The Mermaid in the Basement (6 page)

Sir Osric nodded, and Serafina turned and stared at the butler, Rogers, who had followed them up the stairs. “The butler is the thief.”

Everyone gave her an incredulous look and then turned to face Rogers. The butler’s face turned absolutely pale.

“That’s—that’s not possible,” Sir Osric stammered.

“Has he been with you long?”

“No, the man who had served me for several years died recently, but he came recommended by Sir George Philpot himself.”

“Did Sir George recommend him in person?”

“No, but I had a letter from him that Rogers brought to me, and I know his handwriting.”

“Why, this woman is entirely wrong, Sir Osric,” Rogers said. “I’m not a thief.”

“I’m afraid you’ve made a mistake, Lady Trent,” Sir Osric said.

“The window was broken from the inside. A random thief would have had no idea about your secret safe.”

“But he didn’t know the combination!”

“I thought of the hiding place at once. He is a clever man and would have had plenty of time to find it. Only a person who lives here would know that, and one who had opportunity to find the combination.”

“I didn’t do it, sir. You must believe me, sir!”

“You must have more proof than this, Lady Trent,” Sir Osric said, obviously disturbed.

“Rogers here is a literary man.”

“How do you know that?”

“At dinner while you were talking about writing, he responded to your comments.When you mentioned one he didn’t like, he shook his head. When you mentioned one he did, he nodded and smiled. Also, he’s a Cambridge man, and he’s come into a large amount of money recently.”

“How can you tell that?” Dickens demanded.

“He’s wearing a Cambridge tie, and that’s an expensive new diamond ring.”

“How can you say it’s new?” the reporter, Morton, demanded.

“He’s taken it off more than once. Look at his hands—they’re tanned. If you have him take that ring off, you’ll see that underneath, where it should be white, where the ring would protect the skin from the sun, it’s not.”

The man called Rogers suddenly let out a wild cry, whirled, and dashed out of the room. Everyone began to speak, and Sir Osric dashed out saying, “I must call the police!”

“He can’t get far, Sir Osric. I’m sure the police will get out of him the name of the person who bought your manuscript.”

Charles Dickens, in all probability the most famous writer in the world, came over to stand before Serafina. His eyes glowed, and he bent over, bowing deeply, and said, “I apologise with all my heart,Viscountess.

You are, indeed, a wonder of intellect! A female Auguste Dupin!”

Charles Morton moved closer and offered his accolade. “I think, if you’ll read the
London Times,
Viscountess Trent, you’ll be interested.”

Serafina took her leave soon after that.When she got to the carriage, Givins was waiting. “’Ow was the dinner, Lady Trent?”

As
Serafina stepped inside and leaned back against the leather cushion, she shrugged.“Oh, it was all rather boring—except for the part about the worms and the burglar, of course.”

FOUR

L
ight had begun drawing a faint line across the horizon in the east when Serafina rose. She had passed a restless night, which was not unusual for her. Moving over to the window, she stared outside, and her eyes fell on the tall trees over to the west of the park. They stood in disorganised ranks like a regiment at ease, and already they were laying their shadows on the ground in long lines. She stood there so long that the trees seemed to shoulder the sun out of the way, but then the light came through, and the sun put lambent fingers through the trees, touching the earth with gentleness. She turned from the window finally and began to dress. She knew that Louisa would be along shortly to help her, but she had an independence in her that would not submit to this.
A woman
should be able to dress herself without help
. The thought sprang into her mind, and she smiled faintly at her own foolish ideas.

When she was dressed, she went back to the window again, as if reluctant to leave the sanctity of her room. She knew it would be a warm day, but an April shower was forming in the west. Torn shreds of clouds dragged across a clear azure sky, casting their frail shadows over the land. Serafina was always sensitive to the weather. A dreary day could darken her spirits and cause her to retreat into a shell. On the other hand, a cheerful, sunny day always lifted her spirits.

She turned and left her room, descended the stairs, then made her way to the kitchen. She stepped inside and was pleased with the warmth and good smells that already had begun to fill the room. It was a huge kitchen with a black cooking range big enough to roast half a beef and boil enough vegetables or bake enough pies and pastries to feed fifty people at a sitting. She ran her eyes over the rows of copper saucepans hung in order of size, every one shining clean. Open cabinets held services of crockery, and beyond the kitchen were sculleries, and larders—one specifically for game—and a bake house. There was also a room for knives, the entire laundry wing, a pantry, and a pastry room. Farther on was the butler’s domain, which no human dared enter without fear of offending James Barden.

“Good morning, Nessa.”

Nessa Douglas turned at once and greeted Serafina with a smile. “Good morning, mistress.” Nessa was thirty-three, blonde with sky blue eyes, and somewhat overweight from sampling her own wares. She was a cheerful woman by nature and gave Serafina a bright smile. “You’re up early this morning, ma’am.”

“Can I help you with anything, Nessa?”

“And why would you be doing that, Viscountess? That’s what you pay me for. You do your job, and I do mine.”

“I’d like a cup of tea while I watch.”

“It’s already made.” Nessa moved her bulk quickly around the kitchen and set a large mug of steaming tea before Serafina. “There, that’s your favourite cup. You hate those tiny little china cups.”

“I always say you can’t have a cup of tea too hot or too large.” Serafina sipped the tea and sat there and watched, her mind on something else.Nessa was aware that something was troubling the viscountess, but a servant did not inquire into the troubles of those who lived above the stairs.

By the time Serafina had finished her second cup of tea, she had watched Nessa throw together a breakfast with such skill and ease that it seemed a child could do it. Nessa had prepared fresh strawberries, steaks, scrambled eggs, fried potatoes, biscuits, buckwheat cakes, fried bread, and a fruit compote with strawberries, blueberries, and peaches with honey and milk.

“It looks like no one’s going to starve to death.” Serafina smiled. She had a good relationship with most of the servants. Only the butler, James Barden, was stiffly formal with her.He entered just as Serafina rose.He was a tall, dignified man with a wealth of brown hair neatly parted in the middle, and a pair of penetrating brown eyes.“Good morning,Viscountess.”

Serafina said, “Good morning, James.”

“Would you care to go to the dining room, ma’am? I’ll have the breakfast brought in.”

“I’ll be there shortly. I have an errand to do first.”

“Very well, ma’am.”

The viscountess left the room, and as soon as she was out the door, James Barden sniffed. “Seems she’d have more to do than invade the kitchen.”

“Bridle your tongue, Mr. Barden,” Nessa said sharply. “She’s a good mistress.”

“She’s too free with the help,” Barden said. He liked to see the distinction between the family and the servants preserved. He looked over and said, “I think this will be sufficient. I’ll have Rachel take it in.”

The knocking at the door disturbed Clive’s restless sleep. The noise persisted, and finally he sat up and blinked his eyes like an owl brought into the sunlight. “Who could that be?” he grumbled. Slipping out of bed, he pulled on a blue silk robe and went to the door. Opening it, he found Serafina standing there. “What is it, Serafina?”

“I’ve got to talk to you, Clive.” Serafina simply pushed by Clive. He shut the door, then said with irritation, “Couldn’t it wait until after breakfast?”

“No, I’m leaving as soon as I finish breakfast. I’m going riding with David this morning.”

Clive’s fair hair was mussed, and a look of apprehension flickered in his eyes. He cleared his throat before asking, “What is it? You never come here unless it’s to tell me I’m doing something wrong.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

“Well, what is it I’ve done this time?”

Serafina Trent had a direct way of approaching problems. She had heard it said once of her grandfather that he had a way of lowering his head and looking as if he were about to ram it through a solid oak door. There was something of this quality in Serafina as she turned squarely to face this younger brother of hers. Her eyes were fastened on him, and there was a severity in the set of her lips. “You’re making a fool out of yourself with this actress, Clive.”

“Serafina, that’s none of your business. I’m twenty-one years old. I can do as I please.”

“No, you can’t. You’re part of the family, and when one part of the family fails, all of us fail.”

Clive tried to meet Serafina’s gaze but could not. He dropped his eyes and mumbled sulkily, “There’s nothing wrong with my seeing Kate.”

“There’s something wrong with stealing.”

Clive reared back with shock. “Stealing?” he muttered. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the diamond ring that’s missing from the safe.

You took it, didn’t you?”

Clive threw his arms out in a mildly eloquent gesture. “I have to do something to make Kate notice me. And anyway, no one ever wears that ring.”

“So it’s all right to steal from your own family? Is that what you’re saying?” Serafina’s voice was sharp, and she plunged the truth home relentlessly. “Don’t you see what you’ve become? You’ve given up your honour for that woman—who is no more than a harlot if all I hear is true.”

“Don’t talk that way about her! You don’t understand, Serafina.” Clive put his hands before him as if to push Serafina away, and his voice turned to pathetic pleading. “You would never understand my feelings. You don’t
have
any feelings, but I do.”

“I have feelings the same as anyone else.”

“You never show them for anyone except for David,” he whined.“Well, I can’t think of anyone except Kate.”

For a long moment Serafina stood there wondering how to reach this brother of hers. His charge that she had no feelings hurt her, for she did have feelings—much deeper than anyone knew. But it was within her power to control them, and she saw that Clive lacked this ability. “You’ve got to stop seeing her.”

“I won’t do it, Serafina! Now if you’ll leave, I’ll get dressed.”

Serafina put her eyes on him and saw the weakness in his face. “I’m sorry for you, Clive.Any man who would dishonour himself for a woman like that is in poor condition.” She turned and left the room. Clive went over to the wicker chair beside the window and threw himself into it. He dropped his face into his hands. For a long time he sat there, Serafina’s words burning into him as with a branding iron, and he knew that he would hear them over and over again. Finally he arose, thinking,
She
doesn’t understand. She’s never loved anybody except her son.
He slowly began to dress, but dreaded facing the family. “I wonder if she’ll tell them about the ring.”He spoke the words aloud and then shook his head.“No, she’s hard, but she wouldn’t do that.”

The day had passed miserably enough for Clive Newton. As he had known would happen, he could not blot Serafina’s words out of his mind. She had accused him of being a man without honour, and Clive had always prided himself on his honour. He had gotten away from the house as soon as possible after breakfast and had spent most of the day at the club, but late in the afternoon he had begun to drink. Now that the afternoon was closing down, and night would soon be here, he was on his way to the Old Vic. Deep in thought, he walked along the Thames embankment. From time to time he glanced at the steamboats on the river that were crowded with people enjoying themselves,wearing hats with streamers and waving to the shore. A band was playing, and he passed street peddlers selling lemonade, ham sandwiches, and various kinds of sweets.