Today's Embrace (26 page)

“You're too easy on the tribes,” Harry Whipple said with disgust. “Trying to make excuses for 'em. Any of 'em would as soon kill Brewster as look at him. Anyhow, who do you think would want to murder Lord Brewster? Certainly none of us. But the savages? They'll strike anytime, anywhere. We've confiscated the assegais, so they used a club.”

“You're likely to be right about Tom Willet,” said Retford. “It was not a lion that got him, but probably an induna. A leader could still have had one of their weapons buried somewhere.”

Darinda felt the tension in the room. There was a ripple of unease as the others glanced about the bungalow. Darinda saw her grandfather reconsider his earlier decision of blaming Major Tom Willet's death on a lion.

“Whipple, I want more of the troopers on duty to avoid trouble. I want a strong show of force. We'll ride to Jube's kraal tonight. I want to know where he's been. That includes his impis. All of them. I don't care if they're asleep or not. Get them up! We'll talk to them. I'll join you and the others on the road in thirty minutes … Darinda, my dear, I want a few minutes alone with you before I leave. Captain Retford will see you back to the house. Parnell? Come with me, my boy, I have good need of you!”

Parnell looked a ghastly color. He seemed to be worried about more than Anthony's death. Was he fearful Julien might discover he'd been the one who'd sent a letter to Anthony, bringing him here to Bulawayo … to his death?

Darinda did not look toward Captain Retford again until the bungalow began to clear. Did she see a bit of displeasure in the set of his jaw?

“I find it difficult to believe anything this wretched could actually happen to Anthony,” Peter said with a shake of his head. “Come along, Arcilla, my dear. This has been dreadful for you.”

Peter left with Arcilla for the house, and Whipple and the police hurried off on horseback to round up more troopers. Within a few short minutes, Darinda was left alone in the bungalow with her grandfather.
Captain Retford must be waiting outside
, she thought.

Julien strode up to her and enclosed her in a grandfatherly hug. “I'm sorry you were the one to have found him. Wretched business! But whoever did this to Anthony will pay severely!”

She could readily see the deep emotion he felt. She understood better how attached he'd been to Anthony. Her conscience smote her.
He bullied Anthony, no doubt of that, but he loved him. Ryan is wrong—Grandfather would never do anything to bring Anthony harm, regardless of the rebuke he might have brought from Capetown about the Matopos expedition
.

“Grandfather,” she whispered, “Anthony was found under the wait-a-bit tree just up the path—did Captain Retford say anything about that to you?” She glanced toward the open windows, with curtains shuddering in the breeze, not that she expected Ryan would ever eavesdrop.

“Wait-a-bit?”

“The name of the tree … You know, where I discovered Anthony's body … Captain Retford didn't tell you?”

“Oh? What was he to tell me?”

“Well, perhaps it's not important, but it could be.” As she explained, his fingers tightened on her shoulders. An odd leap of fear reflected in his one eye.

“Witchcraft,” he repeated. “It's possible, Darinda. By the time we've dealt with Jube, we'll know what they're up to.”

“What are you going to do?” She remembered Ryan's concerns.

“Leave it to Harry Whipple.”

Julien paced the room. She watched him, wondering.

“Is there something more you wanted to tell me, Grandfather?”

“Yes.” He stopped his pacing and turned toward her. “What happened tonight is just the beginning of trouble. I need your help, my dear.”

Her senses were alerted. He needed
her
help. What better words could she possibly hear, though they came on the heels of dark and ugly tragedy?

“Grandfather, of course I'll do all I can to assist you. Has it to do with the loss of Anthony?”

He waved a hand doused with diamonds. “Never mind Anthony right now. I must talk to you about the Boer war. A matter has arisen of some concern.”

Mention of the possibility of war between England and the Boers was not what she'd expected. He glanced at her, and she noted the thoughtful glint in his eyes.

“It's necessary you stay in Bulawayo indefinitely, Darinda. I'll need you here with me.”

She'd had no intention of leaving, but she was pleased to hear her grandfather admit he needed her.

“You won't mind, my dear, will you? Captain Retford will prove an interesting conversationalist—and a gold mine of information for our cause.”

She stared at him. “Captain Retford? Information for our cause?” She searched his face with its wily smile. His bristly black brow shot up above his eye patch in a characteristic look that was almost an amusing trait.

“Yes, our
loyal
British Captain Retford is a traitor! Surprised, my dear?”

Darinda was bewildered. “Captain Retford—a traitor?”

His smile fled as his eye hardened like glass. “He surprised me, as well. I don't enjoy being made a fool. The man, I believe, is a spy for the Boers. For President Paul Kruger.”

Stunned, she simply stared at her grandfather. For a moment her mind was blank. Ryan Retford a Boer spy?

“You're not afraid of the man, are you?” he asked.

She found her voice. “Afraid? Hardly that, but I don't understand—”

“Splendid, because I want you to find out what he's up to here in
Bulawayo. He doesn't know it yet, but his orders have been changed. He'll be going with me on the Matopos expedition. I'll make it appear as though I trust him. Make him my bodyguard. I'll be trekking there as soon as matters are fully arranged. And I want you, Darinda, to find out what he's up to. Your presence will suit our cause very well indeed.”

She continued to watch him, her confusion growing. The last thing she wanted was to play the spy, and with Captain Ryan Retford. What had all this to do with the family diamonds? The murder of Anthony?
Ryan
, a Boer
spy?
And what for?

“Grandfather, I don't see why any of this is necessary.”

“Make no mistake about it, my dear. The Kimberly Black Diamond is rightfully ours, a family treasure. There is no way I'm going to let it remain buried on the Matopos, wasting away in the dark confines of a grave!”

He reached for his cheroot, struck a match, and lit the end.

“Grandfather, if you don't explain I shall burst.”

“It's necessary you play the spy, my girl, not just for the family, but for England. You're the one person who may have an opportunity to unmask Retford.”

Unmask him …

He looked at her insidiously. “He's as cool a gentleman as I've come up against, and I don't like it.”

“But I thought you actually trusted him,” she said, aghast. “Captain Retford mentioned just tonight that you wanted him to lead your search in the Matopos.”

“Did he? Well, I did trust him until word arrived through Anthony that he's not merely a Boer sympathizer, but working against our plans to aid Uitlanders in the Transvaal.” His countenance darkened with anger. “He's betrayed me. Anthony had proof——a letter Retford had written to the high commissioner in Capetown. I can't go into all that now. Just believe me when I say he poses a threat to the success of our plans.”

Was this true, or was her grandfather exaggerating as he sometimes
did? “What letter?” she asked quickly. “About the expedition to find the Black Diamond?”

“That, too. But I speak of another matter now. A secret plan to aid the Uitlanders. Jameson's Troopers, we call them. Six hundred soldiers to invade Pretoria and help the Uitlanders overthrow Boer injustice!”

She stared at him. Invade the Transvaal!

“You now, Darinda, are another matter. He may appear aloof, but I've seen the way he's looked at you. Now, now, I'm not asking you to commit yourself to Retford. Just be friendly with him. It's information I need, and you can ask the sort of questions that I cannot.”

She was shocked, but should she be? “You want me to spy on Retford?” she asked in a choked voice. “But what can he possibly tell me that's so important?”

“I want to know what Retford knows and what he's up to, whether he's working for Kruger at Pretoria, and what he wants for himself. Has he spoken to you in any way about the Boers?”

“He's said nothing to me about them. And he talks very little about himself.”

“Then learn what his game is. I think you're the woman to do it.”

Was she? Using underhanded tactics hadn't benefited her on the pioneer trek to Fort Salisbury. She'd tried to get Henry Chantry's map from Rogan by using Parnell. When he had failed her, she'd considered using Captain Retford. It embarrassed her even remembering what Retford had said that night in Rogan's camp along the Limpopo River. He'd seen through her tactics almost at once and warned her against them. No, not warned, “lectured” her on becoming a lady of Christian principles. He had dared to suggest she'd have a tendency to be a common thief if she'd been raised on London's East Side instead of being the rich, favored granddaughter of Sir Julien Bley. Though that had infuriated her, later she'd thought about what he said. She still thought about it, in fact.

“I'm not sure I want to play the spy, Grandfather—”

“Darinda, need I tell you how crucial this is to our success in expanding the frontiers of Rhodesia? Those gold fields in the Transvaal are successful because of British and colonial miners—Uitlanders, if you please. If the Uitlanders rebel against the government of Pretoria—and Jameson and his six hundred ride in to their aid—we could produce a full-scale uprising. He'd soon be ready to talk peace with London. The high commissioner is even now preparing to meet with Kruger and discuss peace. We can't afford to allow a turncoat among us to alert Kruger about Jameson's raid!”

“You're not saying Dr. Jameson's troopers are going to invade the Transvaal—”

“When it happens, my dear, we'll assure an astonished London that we had no previous knowledge of Jameson's plans. Rhodes, too, will maintain his innocence.”

“Does he know?” she whispered uneasily.

Julien waved a hand. “I'm not quite sure, though it's hard for me to imagine Doc doing something on this level without Rhodes's knowledge. But afterward, Jameson would have to say Rhodes was not involved. Rhodes is now prime minister of Cape Colony. The stir would be so great he would need to resign as an embarrassment to Her Majesty.”

Darinda was skittish about muddying her hands in anything of this magnitude. Invading the Transvaal in a plot with the Uitlanders to rise up against the Boer president would bring serious consequences.

“I don't think Captain Retford would tell me whether he knows such a thing is planned,” she said, “nor the name of any who could be passing information to him. Wouldn't it be better just to step away from all this?”

“When you're spying for the future of the Charter Company? We want a monopoly on the gold fields in the Transvaal in the same way we control the Kimberly diamond mines. This is crucial, not for us only, but for England. Would you prefer to have the German Empire sign a pact with Kruger?”

His words cast in the uniform of British patriotism encouraged her. This made it sound more like a noble cause. Still, Captain Ryan Retford was no fool. Could she learn what Julien wanted?

“What if he sees through my efforts?”

“That's what bothers me about Retford. He leads me on a hound's chase after a rabbit that isn't there. But you, my dear, have something I do not—feminine wiles and beauty. Now, now, don't protest. It's true. Though the perfect woman for this task, if I had my choice, would have been Arcilla—”

“Arcilla! That silly goose?”

“She's flirty and without scruples—it comes naturally to her. But she's not the slightest bit malicious and has no interest in politics. That is why I couldn't trust her with this, though I think she would do it if I offered to reward her with a ticket home on the next ship with Peter.”

Darinda couldn't help but smile. “You are an old conniver, Grandfather. But I suppose that's what's gotten you where you are today.”

Julien's eye gleamed. “And you and I, my dear Darinda, are cut from the same piece of cloth.”

She didn't know quite what to think about his comparison. She felt somewhat offended, though she couldn't say exactly why. Perhaps Dr. Jakob's preaching was having an undue effect upon her conscience.

She was pleased Grandfather Julien believed her capable of helping broaden the family dynasty from diamonds into gold.

“I do think that I may be more like you than Anthony was,” she said with a rueful turn of her lips.

He sobered. “Yes, much more so … I made a mistake years ago with Anthony, but that was before you were born. I had thought I could develop him into the right man to take over after me, but Anthony never showed the iron that was necessary to make decisions to benefit the Bleys, Chantrys, and Brewsters. He was sensitive and worried too much, especially toward the end. I couldn't have that—could I?”

Darinda's gaze swerved to meet his one cool, hard eye.

“One must learn to quench one's conscience to get ahead in this
world,” he continued as he poured himself a small, precise amount of liquor in a jigger.

She watched. Somehow it didn't trouble her as much as when Parnell used liquor. Maybe because Grandfather never let it make him vulnerable. He seemed to be in control of how far to go—without getting snared by his sin.

“One should be willing to take the initiative when necessary, regardless of what others may think. Anthony was weak in that way, troubling his mind with what others thought. He worried when he'd given up Evy to the Haverings. And he always seemed to have a guilty conscience about Katie van Buren.”