Wiles of a Stranger (6 page)

“He can sleep in tomorrow. There is nothing to get up for,” she added grimly. “Major Morrison does not arrive till afternoon.”

This blatant and public admission that the only pleasure the morrow offered her was the arrival of another gentleman caused Mr. Beaudel to smile deprecatingly. I was sorry I had looked at him.

“It is a pity Algernon decided not to join us for the spring holiday,” he said to her. “He would liven us up. We have great times when Algernon is here.”

This was easy to credit. A young man of twenty-odd years would be of definite interest to Stella, who was not above flirting with a six-year-old child, and her butler.

“My brother is gone to visit Sacheverel for the holiday,” Lucien explained to me. “I wish he had taken me with him.”

“He is bound to drop in on his way back to Cambridge. It is hardly out of his way at all,” Beaudel consoled him.

“He was here for Christmas,” Stella reminded them. “It is only right he spend some time with his maternal relatives as well.”

It struck me as decidedly odd she would not be more eager for the company of a young gentleman, but she sounded peevish at the very mention of his name. I wondered if she had come to cuffs with him.

“It is hardly the same thing. Glanbury Park is his own home, it belongs to him,” Beaudel remarked.

“Yes, he is not reluctant to remind us of it,” she answered sharply, confirming my suspicion.

“Well, shall we have that cocoa?” Beaudel said heartily, to smooth over the incident.

Lucien and I drank ours up quickly. The very mention of Algernon Beaudel had put Stella in a pucker, and she was poor company. But before we left, she roused herself to a smile.

“Time you were in your bed, rascal,” she said, giving Lucien’s cheek a pinch. “We don’t want this guy’s pretty complexion fading from late nights.”

He pushed her hand away, disliking the childish treatment. “Good night Aunt Stella, Uncle,” he said, with a proper bow, then he reached for my hand, the first childish move I  had seen him make. “I hope you have a good night,” he added over his shoulder, as he accepted their wishes for a good sleep.  Wiggins was hanging about the hall, trimming the lamp wicks.

“Good night, Miss Stacey,” he said, with a bold smile. “The servants are having a cup of tea in the kitchen, if you’d like to join us. We haven’t had much chance to become acquainted.”

“Thank you, but I am busy right now,” I answered, hurrying past. I disliked his bold stare, his flashing black eyes. I also disliked his listening at doorways, for I was convinced those lamps had been trimmed to death.

“I do wish Aunt Stella would not pinch my cheeks,” Lucien grouched as we mounted the stairs. He was fatigued with his late night.

He got into his nightshirt with no help from me, feeling himself much too old to require any assistance. “Miss Little used to listen to my prayers,” he said, coming to my door when he was dressed for bed. “Would you like to, Miss Stacey?”

“Very much,” I told him, arising. I sensed what he really wanted was someone to tuck him in, and was happy to oblige. He might put on the airs of an adult, but beneath it he was still a little boy, an orphan at that, who had lately lost the person closest to him.

My true business at Glanbury Park was not lost sight of amidst this outcropping of altruism. “I expect you miss Miss Little,” I said after he had said his prayers, naming her last in his requests for God’s blessing on his loved ones.

“Yes, she was very nice. I liked her,” he told me, crawling in, and surreptitiously dragging a well-worn stuffed toy under the blanket, so I would not see it.

“How long was she with you?”

“Only half a year. Before that Mrs. Glammis was my nanny, but she left when Uncle Charles got married. Algernon hired her in London, Miss Little I mean.”

I wondered if Mrs. Glammis had not rubbed along with the new bride. To question a child was not a thing I would ever do only to satisfy vulgar curiosity, but to save my father, I would do a good deal worse. “I suppose you have known your Aunt Stella for a long time, have you?” I asked.

“No, only since she came here. Uncle Charles met her last autumn at Tunbridge Wells, where he went for his gout. It was very romantic. They fell in love at first sight, and got married inside of two weeks. Aunt Stella told me all about it.”

“How nice.”

“Yes, I think she is nice. She is very pretty, and she plays with me. Algernon didn’t like it. He said Sacheverel didn’t like it either, but they didn’t make me move away. Algernon said they might. He was angry at Aunt Stella for turning off some of his old servants, you know, who had been with him for ages, since we came back from India. He told her not to turn off anyone else.”

“I expect he was sorry to lose the old family butler,” I asked leadingly.

“Yes, he was especially angry about Wiggins. I don’t know why really. Wiggins tried very hard to be nice to him. I heard Aunt Stella tell him to be.”

“Was Aunt Stella nice to Algernon?” I prodded.

“At first she was, but in the end they didn’t even speak to each other. She took dinner in her room the last night he was here. I hope Algernon comes to see me. And I hope he doesn’t make me go to live with Lord Sacheverel too. I fear that is what they are talking about, why Algernon went to him now. I like it better here. Grandpa Sacheverel is very old.”

“It is cozy here,” I agreed, smoothing the blankets, and reaching to brush his hair from his forehead, as I watched closely to see if he disapproved of this maternal gesture. He looked suddenly very young and vulnerable, with his big dark eyes peering at me questioningly.

“Miss Little liked it,” he said.

“I wonder why she left.”

“She didn’t say,” he told me, lowering those long lashes to hide his eyes, but not before that sly look had crept back into them. I was certain he was hiding something.

“Lucien, if you know anything about her disappearance, it would be wrong to hide it. You know something, don’t you?”

“I don’t know where she is.”

“Do you know anything about her going, anything at all?”

“I knew nobody harmed her, Miss Stacey, if that is what you are worried about. I knew she was going. She came and said good-bye, and told me not to worry, that’s all. She told me not to tell. It was a secret.”

“Did she have a fellow? Is that it, she ran off with him?”

“She didn’t have a lover. I told you so already.”

“You should tell your uncle what you know.”

“I can’t break my promise. If you tell them, I’ll say you made it up, and then you’ll have to go away. I’m sorry, but I promised Miss Little.”

“Why did you tell me then?” I asked, angry at being bested  by a child.

“Because I like you,” he said simply. “And I didn’t want you to worry that anything bad would happen to you here. Miss Little said...” I looked, waiting expectantly. “She didn’t say so exactly, but she kind of hinted I could tell you.”

“Me? She couldn’t know I would come here.”

“The girl who took her place she meant, whoever she should be.”

“Oh,” I said, disappointed. “Better go to sleep now, Lucien. We’ll have to start lessons tomorrow.”

“Miss Little used to kiss me good-night,” he said, as though it were a matter of the greatest indifference to him whether I did the same.

I kissed his cheek, and he smiled at me sleepily. “Good-night, Miss Stacey,” he said, yawning. “What is your name, by the by?”

“What?”

“Your first name. Miss Little’s name was Cecile. What is yours?”

“Oh. M-Mary.”

“I thought it might be. It says M. D. on your writing case. What is the D for?”

“The case was a present from my aunt. She had a spare. Her name was Mary too. Mary Daniels,” I said, with a quickening of my heartbeat. “When did you look at my things?”

“While I was in your room with you. You had it on your desk. I wasn’t snooping. You sound angry, Miss Stacey. Are you angry?”

“No, of course not.”

“I hope Algernon won’t take you in dislike. He will soon be coming home to stay, you know. This is his last term at university.”

“I see no reason why he should.”

“No, because Aunt Stella didn’t turn Miss Little off. And even if she had, it wouldn’t be your fault. Good-night, Miss Stacey.”

“Good-night.” I left, to dash back to my room and look for other telltale signs that I was an impostor.

I found none, but I put that writing case in a drawer, and covered it with linens, in case anyone should decide to pay me a visit.

Chapter Five

There was a great deal to think about after I closed the door of my blue room and achieved solitude. Accepting Wiggins’ offer to go to the kitchen for tea occurred to me, but I had enough information to sort out for one night. Anything to be learned from them must wait until morning.

The one zircon amidst the diamonds was my most outstanding discovery. Beaudel did not recognize it for what it was, or he would not have selected it for examination. His brother, Sir Giles, had been an expert, and certainly he had not bought it in error. No, someone had put it there, and if that same someone had not removed a genuine one-carat stone at the same time, I would be much surprised.

Stella and Wiggins were at the tip of my list for suspects. She knew where they were kept, knew as well where the key was kept, very likely. Between the two of them, they would have no trouble tampering with the jewels. If they had pilfered one, it was not unlikely they had pilfered more than one. This gave an explanation for the oddity of my father being accused of having stolen eleven stones, when only five were found in his pocket. They had taken that opportunity to conceal their theft. That telltale one zircon must have been left behind by accident. It would be nervous work, opening the safe. Such an oversight could easily occur.

Beaudel struck me as an honest-seeming man, but it was impossible to judge on so slight an acquaintance. He could be bilking the boy more easily than anyone else. He was sole executor and guardian of the jewel collection, so far as I had been able to discover. It was only natural, however, that Algernon, only a few months away from coming home and taking over his inheritance, would take a keen interest. His altercations with Stella showed him to be a man who looked out for his own interests, and surely those of his young brother as well. Whoever was performing the mischief, he hadn’t much longer to do it.

I saved the most important of my concerns for the last. I still had not been in touch with my father, nor done much to free him. I wrestled with possible courses for some time. When I looked at my watch, a lovely little ladies’ hunter watch given me by Papa on my sixteenth birthday, I saw I had forgotten to wind it. It still said seven-thirty. The upsetting of my routine had allowed the regular hour to slip by without winding it. There was an elegant long-case clock in the saloon downstairs. I would nip down and set my watch by it. I picked up the lamp by my bedside and moved quietly into the hallway, to avoid disturbing the sleeping house. All was dark and silent, the occupants and servants settled in for the night, although it could not be much past ten thirty.

It was an eerie sensation, to be descending into the pitch blackness of an unfamiliar place, with only a small circle of pale light around me. When I reached the bottom, I had the feeling of a presence there, a human presence. I cannot explain what caused the feeling—I did not actually hear any sound, smell any human scent, or detect any sign of a body or movement. It was that sixth sense of which I am convinced we are all possessed that alerted me to company. I expected to see someone, Mr. Beaudel or a servant, and looked around without encountering anyone, however, and half convinced myself I was wrong, when I detected from the corner of my eye a moving patch of light. The corner of her gown had caught the glow from my lamp. The satin picked it up, caused a shimmering that alerted my eye.

You may imagine my shock to see, sitting in a chair in the dark, Mrs. Beaudel, still dressed in her evening gown, with her hair up. “Oh!” I gasped, as the lamp trembled in my hand, nearly falling. “You startled me, ma’am. Are you—are you all right?”

“All right?” she asked, and laughed warily. “Yes, I am perfectly all right, Miss Stacey. Sorry if I alarmed you. I often come downstairs at night when I cannot sleep. I dislike to disturb my husband. He needs his rest, as older people do,” she declared, in a tone of irony. “And what brings you downstairs at such an hour?”

“My watch has stopped. I forgot to wind it. I came to check the hour,” I said, holding my watch up for confirmation.

“How careless of you. We would not want our dear Lucien in the hands of a careless governess. You won’t let it happen again, will you, my dear?” she asked, in a tone not far from menacing, which was an inordinately harsh attitude for a simple oversight. Clearly, Madam did not like to have anyone prowling the house at night.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” I said humbly.

“The time is ten-thirty. You can set your watch in your room. Run along now,” she said impatiently.

I did as she ordered, but her surly impatience was a strong hint she was expecting company, and did not want me to see Wiggins. I was still awake at midnight, and did not hear Madam come upstairs.

Hired as a governess, I had of course to perform the duties of one. In the morning I took Lucien to the schoolroom to begin his studies. After lunch, Beaudel came to us and said he was going into Chelmsford, and asked if Lucien would like to go along for the trip. There was obviously some real love for the boy included in Beaudel’s makeup.

Here was my chance to get to the inn and discover whether Mr. Kirby had arrived in town yet. There was a possibility too of discovering some news of my father. I used the pretext of requiring a few things in town, and received permission to go with them;

We were let off at the main intersection, Lucien and I, to do my “shopping.”

“I have to run on down to the jail,” Beaudel explained, throwing me into a spasm of curiosity. “It has to do with this van Deusen fellow who stole the diamonds. I shan’t be long. I’ll leave the carriage at the Stag and Hounds stable, and you can meet me there. About an hour should do it.”