A Collector of Hearts (13 page)

“Doesn’t Stephens know about
you?” asked Caroline. “Surely he would have told his son.”

“No one knows. My mother’s
heart was broken in two when my father threw her over. So when the Cariastan
government turned her into a myth, she decided she would rather be one. All the
staff here know is that my mother fell in love and married abroad, and that her
husband discarded her. She gave me her maiden name – my grandfather’s name.”

“What do we know about Jack
Henderson and his wife?” asked Caroline. “It seems we’ve missed them out of our
deliberations completely. Count? You were invited this weekend, so I assume you
know them.”

“I invited myself, Miss
Conrad. When I heard his Royal Highness was going to be here, I came to sound
him out, to see if he was suitable to take over Cariastan. I contacted Mr
Henderson to ask if that might be possible, playing on my friendship with Mrs
Oakengate, and hinting that I may be willing to finance one of Mr Henderson’s
future productions.”

“Jack Henderson said the
embassy contacted him to ask if the prince could attend,” said Caroline. “But
that can’t be true, can it? And I was just thinking how odd it was that Jack
also dressed as a Harlequin tonight, though I’m not sure how that fits in. Did
he know what you would be wearing, Blake?”

“No, not at all. I just
grabbed a costume from an old dressing up box we have in the attic. So that’s a
dead end.”

“If only it had not been a
costume party,” said the Count. “It is confusing that no one wore their own
clothes.”

“Oh!” Caroline jumped up off
her chair and stood in the middle of the ballroom. The mirrors were still set
around it. “I remember seeing my reflection in one of the mirrors as I danced
with Blake, and thinking it didn’t look quite right. I couldn’t work out what
was wrong with it. I suppose I just assumed it was the natural distortion
caused by the mirrors. But now I think I’ve got it. Blake wasn’t in the
reflection, and I was standing in a different position.”

“That’s because you saw the
other Lady Cassandra,” said Blake, standing up and joining her. “The impostor.
There are far too many around here for my liking.”

“Yes, there are. It’s odd,
but the term smoke and mirrors kept coming into my mind, and I think that’s
exactly what this was.” Caroline moved around the dance floor, trying to
recreate her dance with Blake, in an attempt to find the mirror she had seen.
“It’s this one!” She went to a mirror on the left hand side of the room, and
stood in front of it, before turning and looking at the room, then back at the
mirror again. “What parts of the room does this mirror pick up? The band. I
could see them through it, and a little of the wall to the side of them. And
those tables. Those in that corner…where …” Caroline ran across the room to the
cupboard from which Stephens had taken a sweeping brush. She opened it and
lifted out a bag. “I know who it was now. The one person who wasn’t wearing a
costume tonight. All she had to do was slip into the closet whilst no one was
looking and put on this!” With a flourish she pulled out a green velvet dress,
a black cloak and a red wig.

“Well done, Sherlock,” said
Blake, smiling. “Erm …now you’ve got the answer could you tell us?”

“The prince, our impostor,
doesn’t really have to do anything, apart from be waiting, in his highwayman
costume with his swag bag. He’s supposed to be a prince, so no one is going to
ask to search him, are they? My guess is that his father, Stephens, told him
about the secret passageway years ago, or maybe he found it himself when he
stayed here, but didn’t know every room it led to. The dizzy blonde, dressed as
Marie Antoinette, says she is going to powder her nose. It’s the most natural
thing to do at a party. She would probably have used the cloakrooms near the
cellar if I hadn’t revealed the entrance to the mirror room. That’s better for
her, in terms of not being noticed. I remember the day after we got here,
Stephens found her in the kitchens. She said she’d got lost, but perhaps she
hadn’t. I was sure I saw someone behind me in the mirror that day.”

“So she was heading for the
cellar, or coming back from it,” said Blake.

“Exactly. So at last night’s
party, if she can’t get through the kitchens, she goes upstairs, then down the
secret passageway into the cellar and waits. Anna Anderson, the actress’s
supposed secretary who told me she’s a bit-part actress and, I suspect, the
real brains behind it all. So she slips into this cupboard, changes into the
Lady Cassandra costume, and moves into the ballroom. I saw her in the mirror
and thought it was me. Only no one else notices she’s there because everyone is
in fancy dress, and several people are wearing the same costume anyway,
including Blake and Jack Henderson as Harlequin, a few highwaymen, half a dozen
Marie Antoinettes and goodness knows how many vampires, ghosts and skeletons.
She goes across to Mrs Oakengate, at which point the lights go down – if you
remember Blake, the song had just come to an end – which was no doubt the cue
for the dizzy blonde to turn the lights down. Anna snatches the Cariastan Heart
from Mrs Oakengate’s neck, and secretly hands it to our highwayman who stuffs
it into his bag. Then the lights go back up, and Lady Cassandra dashes back
across the room to the closet, helped by the confusion of the distorted
mirrors, leaving me to carry the can.”

“Genius!” said Blake. “Utter
genius.”

“Yes, they were very
clever,” said Caroline.

“Not them, darling, you.”

“Well, of course,” said Mrs
Oakengate the next morning as Caroline, Blake, Mrs Oakengate, Aunt Millie,
Uncle Jim and the Count sat in the breakfast room, drinking coffee.
 
“I knew the truth all along. I only went
along with pretending I thought it was Caroline in order to let the
perpetrators think they had gotten away with it.”

           
“Of course,” said Aunt Millie, dryly. It had been
wonderful for Caroline when Millie and Jim arrived, both taking her into their
arms. Despite having cleared up the mystery of the Cariastan Heart, she had
still not come to terms with the fact that her own heart was breaking.

           
“And I knew when that Anna Anderson person suggested you
looked like Lady Cassandra that she was up to something.”

           
“Naturally,” said Blake. “And now the police have locked
them all up. It’s really all thanks to you, Mrs Oakengate.” The police had
searched the impostor’s room, and found the Cariastan Heart in the Highwayman’s
swag bag, just where Caroline said it would be. Anna Anderson had broken down
and confessed that she had heard about the party whilst working on Henderson’s
film, and that the Cariastan Heart was going to be there. Remembering that her
friend, Ronald Stephens, had a father who worked at the Abbey, she had hatched
the plot, with Stephens and another struggling actress friend, to steal the
diamond. Ronald Stephens had told his father that his appearance as the prince
was a joke set up by Jack Henderson and that the truth would be revealed on
Halloween.

           
“I don’t seek any praise for doing the right thing,” said
Mrs Oakengate, her head held high. “I am, of course, sorry that I had to upset
you, Caroline.” For the first time her voice held a note of sincerity. “I have
to say you’ve been my favourite companion ever. Much less trouble than your
Aunt Millie.”

Aunt Millie gave a benign
smile.

“But now, I suppose,” Mrs
Oakengate continued, “you’ll be going away with young Mr Laurenson. Or should I
say Prince Henri?”

           
“No,” said Caroline, her voice barely above a whisper.
“That isn’t possible. Blake … the prince … has more important things to
consider.”

           
“I promise you,” said Blake, reaching across the table
and taking her hand, “nothing in my life will ever be as important to me as you
are. Count Chlomsky?” He turned to the Count.

           
“Yes, Your Highness.”

           
“Am I right in thinking that no one but the people in
this room knows the truth about me?”

           
“That is true,” said the Count.

           
“So really, if your Prince Henri were already to have
taken a wife before he is told the truth of his parentage – because of course,
it is highly likely he did not know until you found him – then the people of
Cariastan would think very little of him if he discarded her along the way.
Especially as they have more pressing problems to consider at the moment. I
would need a fortnight at least, after which time, you could make the
announcement of my discovery.”

           
“It seems,” said the Count, looking at his fingernails, “that
my search for Prince Henri will have to continue for a little while longer. I
think it could perhaps take another month. But no longer than a month, mind
you.”

           
“But I thought we’d found him,” said Mrs Oakengate, who
had not quite followed the conversation as well as the others. “Isn’t he Mr
Laurenson?”

           
“Really?” Caroline said to Blake. “You would be willing
do that?”

           
“I would do anything so as not to lose you, darling.
You’re the one thing in my life I never want to have to give up. The people of Cariastan
will love you as much as I do. And if they don’t, damn it, I’ll be the king,
I’ll have them all thrown in jail.” He turned to the Count and said, “That was
a joke by the way.”

           
“I am glad to hear it Your Highness.”

Chapter Ten

Blake stood up and took
Caroline by the hand. “Come with me, I’ve got something to give you.” He led
her from the breakfast room and across the hallway, into the study. Once there,
he pulled a portrait open to reveal a safe hidden behind it.

           
“Here,” he said, once he had opened the safe. “The one
place our thieves never thought to look! I bought this after my mother died. I
don’t know why. On a whim I suppose. To own a little bit of Cariastan.” He held
a small box out to Caroline. She opened it to reveal the real Cariastan Heart,
glittering in a gold setting. She could see then how different it was to the
fake. Anyone viewing them together would know the difference. It sparkled more,
and the diamond was of a much richer quality, not just in monetary terms, but
also in hue and perfection. “I always said I’d give it to a woman who really
deserved it,” he said. “The woman I eventually gave my heart to. So now, my
love, it’s yours.”

           
“Oh, Blake, it’s beautiful, but you don’t have to give
this to me.”

           
“Yes, I do. Consider it an engagement present. I can’t
think of anyone who would look more beautiful wearing it. Will you marry me? Even
though it means we’ll have to go and run a country that nobody has ever heard
of?”

           
“I would marry, even if it meant we had to run a pig farm
in Yorkshire.”

           
“I wish that was an option,” he said, with a hint of
sadness. “Because then we would only belong to each other.” He took her into
his arms and kissed her, holding her for the longest time. “Are you a witch?”
he whispered afterwards. “Are you going to cut out my heart and keep it in a
box?”

           
“Only to keep it safe next to mine,” she whispered back.
“And it will be more precious to me than any jewels. We do belong to each
other, Blake. No matter what happens in the future. Remember that when things
get difficult. I love you, and I’ll always love you.”

           
“I love you, and believe it or not, if Chlomsky hadn’t
agreed to my terms I’d have told him to go to hell.”

           
“No you weren’t.”

           
“You are a witch,” he said, kissing her neck. “You can
see into my very soul.”

           
“Only because it mirrors mine.” She lay her head on his
shoulder. Everything had fallen into place.

Well almost everything. What
she still did not understand was why one of the criminals had warned her off
there being danger, and about Stephens being hurt. She supposed one of the
three had a conscience, though none of them had displayed that when they were
arrested. Perhaps, she thought, as Blake kissed her again, she did not have to
know the answer to everything in order to be happy.

Blake and Caroline walked
down the path of the abbey, hand in hand, followed by Aunt Millie and Uncle
Jim, and the Count and Mrs Oakengate. The mist had cleared, leaving a cold, but
sunny morning.

           
“I knew I’d be without a companion,” Mrs Oakengate was
saying. “It is always such a bother breaking in a new one.”

           
“Not necessarily,” said the Count. “I have a whole month
in which to do nothing but relax and wait for our prince to enjoy his
honeymoon. Would you accept me as your companion? Not that I would want to be
paid.”

           
“Oh yes, Count. I think that would be most satisfactory.”
She smiled contentedly and looked at Caroline and Blake. “It is only right that
I should have some recompense. All my girls marry well, you know. I insist on
it. I think that’s why they call me The Collector. Because I am a Collector of
Hearts.”

           
“Yes, I am sure that must be the reason,” said the Count,
indulgently.

Lady Cassandra watched from
an upper window. She did not mind being misunderstood (even though she had
worked so hard to alert Caroline to the dangers) and neither did she mind Mrs
Oakengate taking the credit for the matchmaking. All that mattered to Cassandra
was the result, in that two people who deserved to be happy were spared the
pain and heartache she had known. She lifted up the two red silk hearts, on
which she had embroidered the names ‘Blake’ and ‘Caroline’, and smiled at work
well done, before putting them into her jewelled box with those of others who
had either worked or lived at the abbey. She smiled secretively and murmured,
“Who says love can only be enjoyed by the young?”
 
Victoria Oakengate would enjoy being a
Countess.