To Catch A Thief (Saved By Desire 2) (10 page)

What on earth had she done to him? He had kissed women before and they had never had this profound effect on him. Yet here he was considering asking her to become a part of his, well, his sort of new life. Had he already made the decision to return to Briggleberry on a permanent basis? He hadn’t even realised he had but wasn’t all that perturbed about the possibility now that he considered it more closely.

Shaking his head in disbelief, he turned his attention back to the room, just in time to watch a scene unfold that would give him plenty to think about later.

Delilah suddenly spilled her tea. “I am so sorry,” she gasped.

Pearl suddenly launched out of her chair and rushed off to fetch something to clear up the mess.

“I am not feeling very well,” Delilah moaned theatrically. “I have the most frightful headache.”

Jeb almost smiled at the sceptical look Sophia threw at her aunt, and suspected from the somewhat calculating look in Delilah’s eyes that there was nothing wrong with her. Why did she want to leave? He glanced around, but could see no reason for Sophia’s aunt to want to go so soon after her arrival.

Not convinced for a second that she was ill, Jeb watched Pearl flutter around their guest, trying to blot the mess. Willing to play along to see what happened, he raised no objection when everybody took the opportunity to offer their excuses and leave. 

Sophia stared at the bag in her lap and mentally cursed when she realised that Delilah was already halfway out of the door.

You cunning witch,
Sophia thought spitefully and turned her attention to the hairbrushes.

Now more determined than ever that Delilah wouldn’t keep the hairbrushes, or anything else she had stolen, Sophia looked for somewhere to leave them.

In the end, the problem was resolved far easier than she had expected. The usual hustle and bustle of the guests collecting their coats, saying their goodbyes, and making their way out of the front door caused temporary chaos in the narrow hall.

“I have forgotten my shawl,” Sophia declared suddenly to nobody in particular.

Once the Squire had stepped outside, and the Harvells were busy saying their goodbyes to the rest of the guests, Sophia hurried back into the sitting room and quickly dropped the brushes into the empty coal scuttle beside the fire. Heaving a mental sigh of relief that she was finally rid of them, she collected her ‘forgotten’ shawl and left the house without a backward look.

“You will never do that to me again,” she declared coldly once she had caught up with her conniving relative. “You are scandalous, and the most self-centred creature I have ever had the misfortune to meet. Right now, I sincerely wish I was not related to you.”

She saw Delilah look at her and open her mouth to speak, but something on Sophia’s face must have warned her to mind what she said because she remained mute all the way home. Instead, she continued to throw occasional worried looks at her niece and the bag she carried. It was evident she wanted to ask if the brushes had been returned but didn’t.

As soon as they walked in through the front door, Sophia stalked straight upstairs and slammed her way into the room. As far as she was concerned, she was going to return the trinket boxes Delilah had stolen from the Hutchinson residence, mainly because she liked Jeb. The rest of the items in the box were Delilah’s concern. If anything else disappeared at any of the other social engagements Sophia attended, or the items remained in the house unreturned, then her thieving aunt could deal with the situation she had brought upon herself.

As soon as the Squire’s ball was out of the way, Sophia was going back home and was never coming back to Framley Meadow ever again. She had tried everything to become better acquainted with her aunt but it was clear that Delilah was an unknown entity who didn’t want familial connections, and had no respect or consideration for anyone other than her own pursuit of pleasure.

In spite of her heartache, and the sad knowledge that whatever might have blossomed between her and Jeb Hutchinson was now going to go nowhere, Sophia knew deep inside that it was for the best. Losing him was inevitable once it became known that Delilah was a common thief. It was better to let go now before her emotions became any more engaged in him. Wasn’t it?

Later that night, after a rather bountiful dinner with his father, Jeb made his way to the tavern. He was aware that the workers had yet to find any trace of Tabitha, and had called the search off for the night now that it was too dark to see. However, he wanted to find out if anyone new was in the area, and if anyone else had noticed a new arrival loitering around the village.

Maybe it was his Star Elite experience lurching into action, but he felt it was strange that Sophia had seen this stranger at the same time that Tabitha had vanished. It would lie heavily on his conscience if he didn’t look into it and someone else disappeared.

Given the amount of time this seemingly innocuous young lady had been gone, her fate looked increasingly dire. At some point, he suspected her body would be found, and it would be evident she had been murdered. With that in mind, the sooner he could start his investigation into what happened, the better chance he stood of finding whoever was responsible so he could bring the matter to a conclusion.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here, Everson,” Jeb drawled as he approached the bar where his father’s man of business stood sipping the remains of a pint.

“Evening,” Everson replied. It wasn’t that he was surly, just uncommunicative.

Jeb carefully ignored the slight snub and ordered his ale. He waited until it was served before he turned his attention back to Everson.

“I didn’t realise you frequented the pub.”

“Everyone does it,” Everson replied dully.

“How do you like working for my father?”

Everson looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “It’s a job.”

Jeb nodded.

Everson downed the rest of his ale and slammed his mug back onto the bar and turned away.

“I’m off,” he muttered and, before Jeb could say anything else, left the pub.

“Is he always that chatty?” Jeb asked the barkeep wryly.

The barkeep threw a dark look at the tavern door.

“Damned strange, that one,” he grumbled with a shake of his head. “In all the time he has been working for your father, and has come in here for his ale, I have barely been able to get more than two words out of him. He just comes in, orders ale, and then leaves again once he has drunk it. Various people have tried to talk to him, even workers on your father’s estate, but nobody gets anywhere.”

“There is nothing wrong with him wanting to keep to himself,” Jeb reasoned, although could do not see why he would go for an ale in the tavern if he didn’t intend to talk to anyone.

The tavern was the hub of the village’s social scene. Practically everyone went to it at some point, if not to eat then to meet with friends or simply enjoy a pint of ale or two in good company. Still, Jeb couldn’t criticise. When he was tired and needed time to himself to think he often propped the end of a bar up somewhere, and quietly sipped his ale without speaking a word to anyone. 

Although several of his father’s workers were present, they were all deep in conversation, crowded around small tables in large groups. He strained his ears to listen in on their conversation, but they weren’t discussing anything other than Tabitha’s disappearance. Although several theories were put forward as to what had happened to her, it was all purely conjecture. Without a body to prove anything sinister had happened, nobody knew what had happened.

Thankfully, Jeb was left to drink his ale in peace. Although he didn’t do anything to correct it, he ruefully had to acknowledge that he was copying Everson’s rather unsociable behaviour. At the moment, there were more important things on his mind though; like what to do about Sophia.

Should he probe to find out what the discord with her aunt was all about? If it was a family matter he didn’t want to get embroiled in that as well, but it mattered if she was to be a part of his future. However, if the ladies just didn’t get along, did he really want to involve himself?

Wrinkling his nose up in disgust, he turned his attention to the thefts. The thief hadn’t struck again yet, but Jeb knew it was only a matter of time. He suspected they planned to steal something from the Squire’s ball next week. That being the case, Jeb had every intention of being on his toes and catching them in the act.

The evening air was considerably colder than it had been when he had entered the tavern. He tugged the collar of his coat up and hunched his shoulders against the chill, and turned toward home.

The night was pitch-black. So dark in fact that it was hard to see his hand in front of his face, but he was used to working at night and didn’t give it a second’s thought as he made his way down the deserted main street.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t see his attacker until the man landed on his back. Jeb was well trained. The brawl that ensued was brutal and bloody. Jeb grunted when several blows rained down on him with breath-taking accuracy. Gritting his teeth, he returned a series of thumps that made his assailant step back. But not before one heavy fist landed with unnerving precision on the side of Jeb’s jaw. Stars danced behind his eyes. In spite of the pain, he refused to cave in to the need to drop to the floor and surrender to darkness. Instead, he snarled and threw himself shoulders first into the stomach of the man who was now trying to kick him. They hit the ground with a dull thump with Jeb landing on top of the winded man.

With the upper hand, Jeb brutally pummelled the man beneath him. The sound of flesh striking flesh didn’t bother him, and he showed no mercy for several bone crunching moments. Once he was sure his assailant was dazed enough to no longer pose a threat, Jeb pushed to his feet and glared down at him.

“Get up,” Jeb snarled, spitting blood out of his mouth. “What do you want with me?”

Before his assailant could catch his breath and answer, Jeb yanked him roughly to his feet. Using height to his advantage, he hauled the man up until he was standing on tip-toes and struggling for balance, and leaned forward until their noses were practically touching. Jeb didn’t recognise him but suspected this was no random attack.

“Speak,” he growled in a voice as cold as ice.

“Keep your nose out,” the man snapped defiantly in a broad London accent.

“Of what? Who are you? Who sent you?” Jeb shook the man with each question.

“I am a friend of a friend. I have been sent to warn you to keep your nose out of things that don’t concern you,” the man grunted.

“Who sent you?” Jeb persisted.

Inside, he was horrified that he had been followed all the way from London. This man was no opportunistic thief, nor was he local. This man had something to do with Sayers.

While he remained perfectly still, his gaze darted up and down the road. Unfortunately, Jeb knew this man was unlikely to be on his own. He had help – somewhere. Determined to get off the streets before accomplices turned up, Jeb shook his captive roughly.

“Tell Sayers he can go to Hell. You will never stop me in anything I do,” Jeb snarled.

Rather than reply, the man kicked out and landed a knee in Jeb’s groin. Jeb’s curse was bitter as he sucked in his breath. Pain made him instinctively released the man, who took advantage of regaining his freedom to resume his assault. This time, the fight had more ferocity. The rapid series of punches thrown warned Jeb this man most probably spent his youth fighting in streets rather than polite and civil gentleman’s clubs. Jeb had been in this situation too many times though, and knew exactly how to fight with the man’s speed and precision. His down and dirty punches, supported by random kicks, were carefully placed to fell a man. Although the stranger was a worthy opponent, he wasn’t as tall as Jeb, and couldn’t dodge the kicks Jeb landed in his midriff.

After several moments of venting his fury, and aware that the man wasn’t going to give up and leave, Jeb decided to despatch him. He placed several blows to his stomach. It winded him, and gave Jeb the opportunity to deliver one last warning.

“Tell your boss to give me the message himself rather than send his grunt to do his dirty work for him,” Jeb ordered, and landed a heavy thump straight in the centre of the man’s face and watched the man fall to his knees. “Attack me again and you won’t walk away.”

Unfortunately, Jeb couldn’t see him clearly enough in the darkness to know if this was the same man who had been watching Sophia. The height was just about right, but he couldn’t see enough of the clothing to be definite, and his face was encased in shadow.

“Just stop sticking your nose into things that don’t concern you,” the man mumbled.

His threat lost some of its sinister meaning because his voice was muffled by the hand that held his bloodied nose, but Jeb heard him.

“What? Like the girl’s death? You into killing young girls now, are you?”

“What? I ain’t killed no girl,” the man protested.

Jeb swore. “So, are you the thief?”

The man glared at him and didn’t speak.

“Maybe you are. Maybe you are not. Some of my things have been stolen. I have every right to try to find them again, and the person responsible for their disappearance. Maybe I should just take you to the magistrate now. It looks to me like you have something to confess.”

The man looked up at him, and realised he was serious. He began to squirm frantically against the hold Jeb had on him. There was a look of panic in his eye that warned Jeb that he was nearing the truth. This man may not have killed Tabitha, but he had something to do with the thefts.

“If you want to put yourself forward for an arse kicking, that’s up to you, but don’t come to me with your ridiculous threats. Take it back to your boss that he can shove it because I won’t take instruction from some two-bit thug who can’t fight to save his life.” To prove his point, Jeb punched the man in the gut and watched him double over for a minute while he tried to regain his breath. “You accost me again, and I promise the next time you won’t get up,” he snarled.

Before Jeb could demand the name of the man who had sent him, the assailant spat blood at his boots and clambered to his feet. Still hunched over from the pain of his beating, he disappeared into the darkness. Jeb watched him go but made no attempt to follow.

Dizziness made any further altercation too dangerous. His ribs ached, his knuckles were bruised, and he had a cut inside his mouth that was bleeding profusely. It was time to go home.

Now that he knew the thief was still in the area, Jeb had someone to look for and knew that in Framley Meadow, there were few places to hide. He could keep for now.

Pleased that he had scored one for the Star Elite, Jeb resumed his journey home to write a note to Barnaby.

It was time to call in his colleagues.

Sophia stood at the side of the ballroom and tried not to yawn. Even though the place was packed and the music was delightful, she was worried. It was impossible to enter into the joy of the occasion because of the contents of the bag she carried.

She hadn’t wanted to come. She had no previous acquaintance with Mrs Bank’s son, Hubert, and suspected that her invitation to his ball had only transpired because she attended the local’s social engagements. The ball was Mrs Bank’s rather crafty way of avoiding having to entertain everyone in her own home. While she couldn’t blame her really, Sophia really had no interest in being there and was thoroughly bored.

Trying to hide, unsuccessfully, behind a potted plant, she studied the other guests, most of whom she had never seen before in her life and would probably never see again. Of those she did know, none of them appeared to be enjoying themselves much either.

Delilah was currently being swept around the dance floor by the Squire, who evidently would prefer to be anywhere else.

The Harvells relished being able to catch up on any gossip they might have missed, and were busy working their way around their connections.

Mrs Banks was in the middle of chastising her son, Hubert, about something. He now looked like a naughty little boy rather than someone who ran a cotton mill. She watched them for a moment with mild amusement before she allowed her gaze to wander around the rest of the room.

Mavis Arbuthnot stood primly on the opposite side of the room, right next to the drinks table, and glared at anyone who dared imbibe. Sophia couldn’t quite make out if she secretly wanted a drink or intended to put everybody off such vice.

When a loud peel of laughter rattled the chandeliers, Sophia turned her attention back to her aunt. There was something about the overly happy expression on her face that was so incredibly false that Delilah looked almost desperate. The Squire certainly did. She watched as he suddenly deposited Delilah at the side of the room the instant the music stopped and disappeared into the crowd without a backward look. Delilah glared after him but, with a sniff, soon turned her attention to another poor soul who was promptly dragged onto the dance floor with his drink still clutched tightly in his hand.

It was safe to say that the last week had been the hardest Sophia had ever had to endure anywhere. The atmosphere within the house had turned into what could only be described as frigid. Her relationship with her aunt had now become so bad that the two women purposely avoided each other. If one went downstairs, the other went up. If one was in the garden, then the other remained indoors, out of sight.

Sophia had thought many times about simply going home and sending Hooky to deal with her instead. Unfortunately, the knowledge that several stolen items were still secreted under the stairs wouldn’t allow her to. She refused to leave the village until Delilah had done the right thing and returned the rest of the hoard, including the several items nestling in her bag. That thought left her to consider the items she carried.

As with the Harvell’s tea last week, Delilah had made promises that she would return the Lord’s trinket boxes and the Squire’s snuff boxes, but at the last moment had refused to carry the bag. She had piously told Sophia that she had been ordered not to take any bags to the social engagements she attended and that included tonight. Before Sophia could take issue with her it had been time to leave, and Delilah had refused to discuss it on the way.

“Well, hello there, Miss Carney. How are you this fine evening?” Mabel Harvell chirruped from her left.

Sophia plastered a smile on her face and turned to the kindly old lady. “I am very well, thank you. How are you, ladies? You look splendid this evening.”

“We are fine, thank you. Have you heard the latest gossip?”

Sophia almost groaned, suspecting the rest of her evening had just been handed over to learning all sorts of titbits about people she hoped never to meet.

“Yes. The strangest thing happened,” Pearl gushed on before Sophia could speak. “You will never guess.” She laughed gaily and nudged her sister. “Shall we tell her?”

“Please do,” Sophia interjected before the ladies lost themselves in their ribaldry.

“Well, those brushes we thought had been stolen, well they were found,” Pearl declared, nodding enthusiastically. “I mean, they were right there in the sitting room. Pearl found them the very same day we held the tea. Isn’t that wonderful? It means that we don’t have to go out and purchase new ones now. It is the strangest thing though because we had coal in that scuttle before people came for tea, but once everyone had gone, there they were, sitting there in plain sight for the world to see. Weren’t they, Mabel?”

“Oh, well, isn’t that lovely?” Sophia replied, feeling slightly sick at having to deceive the ladies.

Their delight was humbling to see. In spite of the risks she had taken, Sophia was glad she had returned the hairbrushes to the sweet old ladies. The Harvells were innocent in all of this and although they had their eccentricities and annoyances, as everyone was wont to have, were harmless elderly ladies who didn’t deserve to be targeted by Delilah’s ruthlessness.

Her aunt’s only saving grace over the past week was the fact that she hadn’t gone to the dressmaker’s to purchase yet another outfit. Instead, she had rummaged through the clothing filled room again and found a ball gown she could adjust. But, as far as Sophia was concerned, it was too little too late because Delilah still refused to return any of the goods she had stolen.

“Yes, I know. I know. We were both shocked, weren’t we dear?” Pearl asked of Mabel.

“Yes, shocked I tell you. It is excellent news.”

“Well, let’s hope that everything else can be found in time,” Sophia murmured absently.

She scoured the room’s guests but wasn’t looking for Delilah, who kept popping into view as she was swung around the dance floor. Jeb had yet to make an appearance, and he was late. She hoped he was alright. Was he planning to attend at all?

“Please excuse me,” she murmured when the ladies had launched into a discourse on the fact that the thefts appeared to have temporarily stopped.

Panic began to build when she realised that sometime over the past couple of minutes, Delilah had left the dance floor. There was no sign of her in the ballroom at all now. Her grateful dance partner was quickly refilling his goblet and gulping the contents down like he had a raging thirst, but Delilah hadn’t moved on to another victim. She had disappeared.

Hoping she wasn’t stealing, Sophia went to find her. En route, she saw Jeb.

Her heart crumbled when she caught sight of him smiling down at a beautiful young woman as they danced around the ballroom. Battling hurt, she struggled to contain the sense of betrayal that swept through her at the sight of him looking at the young woman in the very same way he had smiled at her. An unfamiliar feeling of jealousy swept through Sophia, and that irked her. Jeb had made her no promises and, apart from a kiss or two, had not really shown her any affiliation whatsoever. It wasn’t really for her to feel too downcast that he hadn’t sought her out or asked her to dance. He had no idea how she felt about him, or how much pain she felt at the sight of him with someone else.