Wrede, Patricia C - Mairelon 01 (18 page)

           
"Marianne
is far too innocent to think of such a thing, and Frederick Meredith was
clearly too shatter-brained to mention it," Lady Granleigh replied.
"You should have talked to him yourself, Jasper, instead of leaving it to
Marianne."

           
"That
was your idea! You were the one who said Meredith would tell more to a pretty
face. I never liked the idea of letting my fiancee empty the butter pot over
that nod-cock, and so I told you."

           
"Miss
Thornley isn't your fiancee yet, Jasper, and you'd do well to remember that
before you take that tone with me," Lady Granleigh said. "If you want
my help in winning her--and her fortune--you will have to earn it. I must point
out that so far you have been precious little help."

           
"How
do you expect me to help when you ruin everything I try to do?" Jasper
waved his arms indignantly. "I was about to get rid of that fellow so we
could go ahead with your precious scheme, only you stopped me."

           
"You
were about to make yet another muddle, you mean." Lady Granleigh shook her
head. "Really, Jasper, sometimes I despair of your intelligence. Don't you
see that Mr. de Mare's presence changes everything?"

           
"No,
I do not," Jasper said. "If we could just persuade him to go
away--"

           
"He
would remember us, and when the platter was found, he would connect us with its
reappearance. That could be very awkward for us."

           
"Well,
what do you think we should do?" Jasper asked in a sullen tone.

           
"We
shall give Mr. de Mare the platter," Lady Granleigh answered serenely.

           
"What?!"
Jasper all but shrieked the word, and
both Mairelon and Stuggs turned interested eyes in his direction. Jasper
scowled back at them and lowered his voice. "Amelia, have you gone
mad?"

           
"Do
you want to have Jonathan Aberford lurking about
Bramingham
Place
for the remainder of our stay?"

           
"No,
but--"

           
"Can
you suggest some other way we might be rid of him?"

           
"We've
already been over this, and you know I haven't. But you just told me a minute
ago why we can't give this de Mare fellow the platter!"

           
"I
explained why we cannot simply leave the platter here for Mr. Aberford and his
friends to find, as we had originally planned," Lady Granleigh corrected
him. "If you had been listening, or thinking, you would have understood.
Presenting the package to Mr. de Mare is another matter entirely."

           
"I
don't see how. He's bound to remember us, and you already said that that would
be awkward."

           
Lady
Granleigh sighed. "The platter is well wrapped, tied up, and addressed to
Mr. Jonathan Aberford. If we tell Mr. de Mare that a young man, whom we took to
be one of Henry Bramingham's friends, gave us the parcel in town and asked us
to deliver it here, it will not matter whether he remembers us. Once they
discover that the platter is a forgery, Mr. Aberford and his friends will look
for the mysterious young man, if they look for anyone at all. You and I will be
mere innocent go-betweens."

           
"And
how are you going to explain it if anyone asks why Miss Thornley was prying
into Meredith's business?"

           
"I
shall say that she finds him interesting," Lady Granleigh replied. She
frowned slightly. "I shall have to see that she continues to spend time in
his company for the next day or two. After that, it will not be thought
wonderful if she tires of him."

           
"Interested
in
Meredith
?" Jasper snorted. "That won't fadge, Amelia.
Nobody
could be interested in that simpleton."

           
Lady
Granleigh gave him a cold look. "Are you hinting that I will not be
believed? I assure you, no one will think twice about it. Mr. Meredith is no
more foolish than most young men, and Marianne is no less so than most girls,
so it is quite plausible."

           
"Yes,
but look here, Amelia, how am I supposed to pay court to Miss Thornley if
you're forever telling her to talk with Meredith?" Jasper said hastily.
"I don't like it."

           
"I
did not ask you to like it," Lady Granleigh said. "I simply wish you
to refrain from interfering. Keep quiet, and let me talk to Mr. de Mare."

           
"Amelia--"
Jasper was too
late,
Lady Granleigh had turned and
started back toward the hill as she finished her sentence.
"Friday-faced
harpy!"
Jasper muttered, so low that Kim almost missed the words.
He raked his fingers through his hair, patted his cravat, and smoothed the
front of his coat, then started after his sister.

           
Lady
Granleigh reached the foot of the hill and raised her chin to study Mairelon.
"Mr. de Mare," she said as Jasper, still glowering in disapproval,
joined her, "you have an honest face, and your reasons for being here
interest me. Are you by some chance acquainted with Mr. Jonathan
Aberford?"

           
"He
is the leader of the Company that meets here," Mairelon said cautiously.

           
"Very
good," Lady Granleigh said. "My brother and I are on our way to
Swafflton. A young man in the village requested that we deliver a package to
this place, and we agreed. The package is addressed to Mr. Aberford; presumably
he will know what to do with it. I trust you can see that he receives it?"

           
"I
am quite capable of doing so, madam," Mairelon replied.

           
"Then
we will entrust the package to you. We have spent far too much time on this
errand already.
Stuggs!"

           
"Ma'am."
The large man lowered his eyes as Lady
Granleigh turned to face him, transforming his expression from one of intent
interest into one of bored resentment.

           
"Fetch
the parcel from the carriage at once, and give it to Mr. de Mare, with my
compliments," Lady Granleigh commanded.

           
Kim
frowned as she watched Stuggs nod and walk off. Unless she'd forgotten the
difference between a sharper and a flat, there was something about that cove
that didn't fit. He smelled of the back streets and rookeries of
London
,
and gentry didn't hire servants there if they wanted to keep their silver. If
only she could pike off to the Hungerford Market for a few hours and ask Red
Sal or Tom Correy what they knew about Stuggs! One of them was bound to have
heard something . . . Kim put the thought firmly aside; there was nothing to be
gained by wishing for the impossible.

           
Stuggs
returned, carrying a large brown package. He paused at the foot of the hill,
but one glance at Lady Granleigh set him climbing. Mairelon waited where he was
and accepted the package with a solemn half-bow. Kim, still watching Stuggs
closely, saw a crease form between his eyebrows as he turned and came down the
hill, and realized that Mairelon's bow had prevented Stuggs from getting a good
look at his face.

           
Kim
brooded over the possible implications while Lady Granleigh and Mairelon
exchanged polite farewells. Jasper's concession to good manners took the form
of a curt nod, which drew a glare from his sister and another half-bow from
Mairelon. Lady Granleigh hesitated, looking as if she would have given her
brother a rare trimming then and there, except that she would then have been
guilty of even worse conduct than his. In the end, she turned and swept away
without saying anything, but her lips were pressed together in a manner that
boded ill for Jasper's peace during the coming carriage ride. Jasper followed,
still scowling, and a moment later Kim heard the sounds of the coach departing.

           
Kim let
out a long breath as the noise of the carriage died away among the trees. She
could hardly believe she had gone unnoticed. "Well, well," Mairelon's
voice said meditatively from the hillside.
"How very
interesting."

           
Kim
jerked at the unexpected sound, and her arm grazed the bush in front of her.
Mairelon's head snapped in the direction of the rustle. "Renee?" he
called.

           
"No,
it's me," Kim said, rising. She walked forward, brushing dead leaves from
her coat.

           
"You
were supposed to stay at the wagon," Mairelon said without heat.

           
"That's
what you said," Kim agreed. "I never told you I would."

           
"True."
Mairelon pursed his lips and gazed at Kim thoughtfully. "I can see I'll
have to listen to you more carefully in the future. How long have you been
here?"

           
"Since
right after the bracket-faced
gentry
mort and her
brother came," Kim answered. "I saw them on the road, but I couldn't
hop it fast enough to get here first."

           
"You
didn't by any chance see Mademoiselle D'Auber as well, did you?"

           
"No,"
Kim said with some satisfaction. "I didn't."

           
Mairelon
eyed her sharply,
then
frowned. "It's not like
Renee to be late." He tucked Lady Granleigh's parcel under his arm and
pulled a watch from his pocket. As he glanced at it, his frown deepened.
"Certainly not this late."

           
"Maybe
she saw them two on their way here," Kim suggested, jerking a thumb in the
direction Lady Granleigh's carriage had gone. There was no reason for Mairelon
to get in a taking over Renee D'Auber. She was a wizard, after all; she could
take care of herself.

           
Mairelon
looked up, still frowning. "Yes, that would explain it," he said.
"And it's 'those two,' not 'them two.' "

           
"Those
two, then," Kim said, obscurely comforted by this offhanded correction.
"What are you goin' to do with the platter?"

           
"Platter?"
Mairelon's expression went blank; then
his eyes followed Kim's pointing finger. "Oh, is that what's in this
package?
How convenient."

           
"It's
the cheat they nicked from the library at
Bramingham
Place
," Kim added. "I heard them
talkin'."

           
"Indeed."
Mairelon took the parcel out from under his arm and studied it. "Why would
Lady Granleigh want to give the fake platter to Jonathan Aberford? And why
deliver it here? He lives in the vicinity; his direction can't be particularly
difficult to discover."

           
Kim shrugged.
"They didn't say."

           
"Mmmm."
Mairelon continued his examination of the
parcel for a moment. Suddenly he flipped the package end for end, tucked it
back under his arm, and started briskly down the hill.
"Time
to be going.
It wouldn't do for someone to get into the wagon while
we're away."

           
"Or
catch us hangin' about here with that thing," Kim muttered, eyeing the
package Mairelon was carrying. As he reached the base of the hill, she fell
into step beside him and added in a louder voice, "There's somethin' smoky
about that Stuggs
cove, that
drove the carriage."

           
"Do
you think so? He's not the usual gentleman's gentleman, I'll admit, but then,
Jasper Marston doesn't seem very good at being a usual sort of gentleman."

           
"I
don't know what his lay is, but he's no flat, that's sure," Kim said
positively. "He pokered up when you said your name was de Mare, and he was
watchin' everything too close. And he wasn't keen to give you that package, no
matter what the bracket-faced mort said."

           
"Wasn't
he, now," Mairelon said "How interesting. You know, Kim, this whole
business is beginning to look extremely odd."

           
"
Beginnin'
to look odd?"

           
"Marston,
who has no reason I can think of to even be aware of the existence of the
Saltash Set, hires the unlikely Mr. Stuggs to run errands and you to find out
whether I have the bowl. Not, mind you, to steal it, but only to discover
whether the thing is hidden in one of my cupboards. He and Lady Granleigh go to
a great deal of trouble to steal a copy of the Saltash Platter from
Bramingham
Place
, in spite of interruptions from several
people who ought not to know anything about it, either. Then when they get it,
they immediately set out to give it to Mr. Aberford, whom Marston, at least,
must have recognized as one of the inept housebreakers."

           
"Maybe
he didn't," Kim said. "And they've had the platter since night before
last. That ain't givin' it back very immediately."

           
"Isn't,"
Mairelon corrected. "The real question is
,
why
would Lady Granleigh want to turn the fake platter over to Aberford instead of
giving it back to Henry Bramingham? Bramingham is, after all, the person from
whom she stole it."

           
Kim shook
her head. "There's no accountin' for gentry folk."

           
"Nonsense,"
Mairelon said firmly. "She must have had some reason. Your Mr. Stower is
another puzzlement
. I doubt that he is in league with Lady
Granleigh, but given Marston's obvious penchant for unusual servants, I don't
think we can rule out a connection there."

           
"He
ain't my Mr. Stower," Kim said. "If he's anybody's, he's Dan Laverham's."

           
"So
you've said. In which case, the question that leaps immediately to mind
is,
is Stower on his own in this or not? And either way, why
is he, or Laverham, interested in the Saltash Set? And how did they find out
about it?"

           
"The
last part's easy," Kim said. "Laverham's got an eye for anything
that'll bring in money, and
London
's
full of coves as would put him in the way of nicking the platter just to get on
his good side."

           
Mairelon
gave her an indecipherable look. "Possibly Hunch will have more to say
about it when he returns from
London
.
Then there's Mr. Aberford, whose desire for the platter is the only one that
appears simple and straightforward. I therefore distrust it on principle,
particularly given Mr. Aberford's, ah, unorthodox attempts to retrieve the
thing."

           
"You
weren't above breakin' into that Bramingham cove's library yourself," Kim
reminded him. "Unless that ain't--isn't--what you meant by 'unorthodox.'
"

           
"
Everyone
broke into Bramingham's library," Mairelon said testily.
"Including Renee.
Everyone who was anywhere near Ranton
Hill, that is. I suppose I should be glad St. Clair didn't arrive until a day
later, or we might have seen him bumbling around with everyone else."

           
Kim
suppressed a shiver "I don't think so. He didn't look like
no
bumbler to me, and for sure he's no flat."

           
"Quite
true," Mairelon said with another sidelong glance at Kim. "I stand
corrected; I've been acquainted with St. Clair long enough to know better. He
would undoubtedly--"

           
Mairelon
broke off as they came within sight of the wagon. A curl of smoke was rising
past the far side of the roof, and Mairelon looked reproachfully at Kim.

           
"I
put the fire out before I left!" Kim protested. "I'm not
sapskulled."

           
"Then
it appears we have company," Mairelon said. His stride lengthened, and Kim
had to skip twice to catch up. "Perhaps Renee has found us, after
all."

           
Kim, who
had been thinking of Jasper Marston and his sister, or the unpleasant Lord St.
Clair, was surprised and not altogether pleased by this suggestion. She was
even more surprised, but considerably relieved, when they came around the
corner of the wagon and found Hunch feeding medium-sized sticks into a new
fire. A placid-looking roan, presumably Hunch's means of transportation, was
tied to the back of the wagon, chewing quietly on an invisible wisp of hay.

           
"Hunch!"
Mairelon said, stopping short.
"Well, that was always a possibility. You haven't seen Renee around
anywhere, have you?"

           
"
If
you mean that Miss Doo-bear friend o' yours, no, I ain't," Hunch answered.
"Nor I ain't likely to. She's in
London
,
laid up with a chill."

           
"No,
she isn't," Mairelon said, frowning. "She's a houseguest at one of
Mrs. Bramingham's interminable parties. I've seen her myself. I wonder why she
thought she had to pretend she was staying in
London
?
"

           
"You've
seen 'er?" Hunch frowned. "Now, 'ow would you 'ave done that when you
was supposed to be a-staying 'ere out of trouble while I was gone?"

           
"These
things happen," Mairelon said, waving a hand in airy dismissal.

           
"Don't
you gammon me, Master Richard," Hunch said severely. "What 'ave you
been up to now?"

           
"This
and that," Mairelon answered "What did Lord Shoreham have to say? Or
did he send you off without any information? I hope not; I did tell you to
wait."

           
" 'E
'ad a lot to say." Hunch's expression was
grim, and he paused for a moment to chew on the right side of his mustache.
"And I ain't repeating any of it til you tell me what you've been
doing!"

           
"Oh,
we've been keeping busy, haven't we, Kim?"

           
"Don't
go draggin' me in!" Kim said quickly. "It ain't
none
of my lay."

           
Hunch
scowled at Kim,
then
turned his attention back to
Mairelon. "You 'adn't ought to--what 'ave you got there?"

           
Mairelon
shifted the parcel under his arm and smiled. "This? I'm not sure. Kim says
it's the Saltash Platter, but I haven't looked yet to see whether she's
right."

           
"I
never--" Kim gasped, only to be cut short by a look from Mairelon.

           
"Let's
find out, shall we?" Mairelon said, holding the parcel out to Hunch.

           
Hunch
tried to glare at Mairelon, but his eyes kept returning to the package. At last
he took it. With a final glare and considerable muttering, he sat down on the
step of the wagon and began undoing the knots. Kim realized suddenly that Hunch
was just as curious about things as she was, and as little able to resist the
opportunity to find something out.

           
The
strings fell apart and Hunch unfolded the wrappings. A silver platter lay
across his knees, shining even in the leaden sunlight that crept through the
clouds. It was very like the one Kim had glimpsed at
Bramingham
Place
, but she wouldn't have wagered a farthing
one way or the other on this being the same article.

           
"Where
did you come by this?" Hunch demanded suspiciously.

           
"One
thing at a time, Hunch," Mairelon responded. "Let me have a look at
it first."

           
"No,
you don't," said a new voice as Mairelon reached for the platter.

           
The surly
tone was unmistakably Jack Stower's, and Kim's stomach sank as her head
swiveled in the direction of the voice. There was no chance that he wouldn't see
her now. Then she got a good look at him, and froze where she stood.

           
Jack
Stower was standing at the rear corner of the wagon beside the roan. He had a
large sack strapped over one shoulder. In each hand he held a pistol, and his
face wore a forbidding scowl. "I'll have that there wicher cheat, and no
gammon," he snarled.

           
"Just
so," said Mairelon without moving. "Do I bring it to you, or do you
come and get it?"

           
"Put
it on, the ground, there," Stower said, gesturing with one of the pistols.
"Then you and the turnip-pated cove get over by the fire. Hop it!"

           
With
exaggerated care, Mairelon lifted the platter and set it in front of Stower.
Then he backed away, his eyes fixed on Stower's face. "Hunch," he
said without turning, and the dour servingman rose and joined him.

           
Stower
stuck one of his pistols through his belt and swung the sack down from his
shoulder. The coarse fabric stretched and shifted around something large and
flat and rectangular as he lowered it to the ground. Kim stared at the sack in
sudden wild surmise.

           
"Now
you, boy," Stower said, taking the second pistol from his belt and aiming
it at Mairelon and Hunch once more. "You take that wicher cheat
and--Kim!"