The Case of the Missing Cross

by Felicia Rogers

  “I think your plan is genius.”

  ****

  “So my father has acquired a jeweled cross said to have preceded Lady Sybil’s and which perhaps is the original, perpetuating the rumor that the Grenville cross is a potential forgery,” repeated Hesper as she paced her parlor.

  “Yes. And you can’t possibly play up the rumor enough,” insisted Justin.

  “I understand.”

  “And your father knows we will be watching from the Judas hole in his library?”

  “Yes. He wants to catch the thief as much as everyone else.” She stepped closer and clutched his lapels. “Except for me, of course. I’m determined to retrieve my brooch. It was my most prized possession.”

  Heat flushed his face. The sound of something clattering against the glossy floor made him twist around, but by the time he’d broken his horrified stare at Hesper and turned, no one was there.

  Hesper cupped his cheek and pulled him back around to face her. She tiptoed as if to kiss him, but he stepped away and she stumbled forward. Her eyes widened, a mix of hurt and anger, so he pretended her forwardness never happened and further explained the plan.

  ****

  Magnolia’s heart pounded against her chest as if trying to escape. Hesper had clung to Justin in an intimate embrace and yet he hadn’t pushed her away. She’d whirled away from the open doorway so fast she’d dropped her reticule and had to hope he wouldn’t investigate while she’d slipped back and snagged it. Half of her had hoped he would, using the interruption as an excuse to get away from Hesper’s embrace.

  But he hadn’t.

  It was her worst fear realized. Justin’s feelings for Hesper remained intact.

  The door to the library shut, and Magnolia lifted her eyes. She’d hidden away, giving him time… giving her time. A book lay open on the table before her. She’d grabbed it, and opened it, and stared at it, but couldn’t remember what it was. Had she turned a single page?

  Justin strode across the library carpet toward her. “There you are. Miss Rotherham is all set.”

  “I bet,” she said between clenched teeth.

  “Um, yes, well, the house will be empty except for us and—”

  She placed her finger across his warm lips. “Later,” she mouthed.

  Justin seemed to understand her meaning, that perhaps they were being listened to. He nodded and said in a cheerful voice, “Let’s be off, Miss Quinn. There are a million things to do before the ball tonight.”

  “Oh, I disagree. There are a million and one.”

  They laughed extra loudly as they escaped from the house. Magnolia wondered if she’d ever laugh naturally again.

  Chapter Eight: Unexpected Theft

  As expected, Phebe Joysey’s ball was well attended. Hesper Rotherham did a superb job cornering people, both those in their circle and out of it, and describing the jeweled cross now in her father’s possession, and further punctuating her words with her father’s bravery at leaving the house unattended.

  “The house has been overrun with rats! Dreadfully unsanitary beasts. We’ve had to acquire housing for the servants for a full sennight while the ratcatchers do their job!”

  Everyone asked questions, especially regarding the protection of family treasures. Those not interested in stealing his wealth, it seemed, were interested in protecting their own. Hesper confidently patted each questioner and laughed. “My father knows how to guard his treasures. Don’t you worry.”

  Judging from the various scowls aimed Hesper’s way, no one considered her final words particularly helpful, neither the honest people, nor the thief.

  Magnolia sipped at a glass of sherry. Over the rim of the glass, she winked at Justin. He was in a heated debate with Mr. Filbee over the validity of his past win at cribbage. Justin appeared to need saving but part of her wanted him to suffer a bit more. Hadn’t she suffered over his affection for Hesper? Wasn’t she still?

  He turned his shoulder to Mr. Filbee and his cronies and mouthed Help me. Setting her glass aside, she made her way through the crowd. No matter how she tried, she could never refuse his direct requests.

  While she approached, movement near the wall caught her eye. Tyrrel was leaving the group surrounding Hesper. How had she missed seeing him move in for the news?

  Magnolia changed direction and followed. They had assumed Tyrrel’s first action would be to confirm Hesper’s statement. Then at a future ball, he would make arrangements to snaffle the cross. But as she hastened to follow Tyrrel, she realized they’d been wrong. He wasn’t waiting; his bold steps left the ball behind and crossed the entry to the side door.

  He was leaving right now.

  Polidor Tyrrel descended the veranda stairs and entered the manicured gardens. Shrubbery cut into shapes mimicking Greek gods and goddesses stood in sharp contrast to the ultra-conservative, unadorned brick town house. The Joyseys had been said to hold conflicting tastes and as Magnolia snuck after Tyrrel, she finally understood the statements.

  Hiding behind a hawthorne replica of Zeus, Magnolia watched. Tyrrel closed the garden gate and headed toward a waiting carriage. The bay horses stamped their forefeet with impatience; they were fresh and ready to go.

  What was she to do? Return to the ball and secure Justin? Find her own transport and race to the Rotherham town home? Or wait?

  As she struggled for an answer, the door to the carriage opened, pushed from within. Tyrrel leapt in and the door began swinging shut. Before it quite closed, Magnolia made out a pair of gleaming Hessian boots, the latest fashion in London.

  So she’d been right. Tyrrel did have a partner.

  ****

  Astonished, Justin watched Magnolia’s change in direction. Had he somehow angered her unintentionally? No— she was following Tyrrel.

  With much difficulty, he excused himself from Liam’s clutches and followed his partner. When she hid behind Zeus, he hid behind Aphrodite — wonderful symbolism, that — and kept his eye on Tyrrel as well as Magnolia.

  Wonder if she realizes she gnaws upon her lip when she concentrates?

  Justin’s heart hammered when Tyrrel jumped into the carriage. He had to focus on the task at hand. But strangely enough, the matched bay horses remained still, tossing their heads and mouthing their bits. The driver held the reins and a running footman stood at their heads with a lit lantern.

  Moments passed. Then Tyrrel exited the carriage, the bay horses and their running footman finally trotted off, and Tyrrel strode toward another carriage. Justin recognized Tyrrel’s own, his footman holding the door open, before he vanished inside.

  Now was the time for action.

  Careful not to give away his position should the footman or driver look around, he snuck toward Magnolia. He laid his hand upon her shoulder and she sucked in a hard breath, as if for a scream. Quickly he clamped his hand over her mouth and whispered, “It’s me.”

  She calmed but still trembled in his grasp.

  She must have been concentrating entirely for his touch to startle her so. Poor Magnolia; hoping to calm her, he cupped her chin and stroked his finger over her quivering lip. Her eyes widened, her shaking stopped… and his began.

  He quickly lowered his hands to his sides and cleared his throat. “We must secure horses if we plan to catch Tyrrel.”

  Her eyes widened again and she sucked in another breath, this time in an I-can’t-believe-I-forgot gasp. With a practiced motion, she gathered her skirts, holding them aloft, and ran toward the stables. Justin trailed behind her.

  Several guests had arrived on horseback, it seemed, and a line of resting horses, girths loosened and nosebags in place, stood tied to posts outside the stable block. Magnolia slid to a stop beside the first one — not the one with the sidesaddle — and yanked the girth tight. The horse snorted, head rearing up, ears alert, and without glancing at the nosebag, she thrust her foot into the stirrup, swung astride, and kicked the horse’s flanks.

  She galloped from the stables while Justin fought
to follow her lead — except the first horse he grabbed wore the sidesaddle. No, not even for Magnolia. He ducked around that horse, tightened the next one’s girth, mounted, and galloped behind her.

  Only a few carriages traveled the road during the dinner hour, each preceded by running footmen with a lantern or flaming torch. That made spotting Tyrrel’s carriage amazingly simple and hard to avoid, while leaving them enclosed in the night.

  They cantered along the back route, arriving at the Rotherham town house moments before Tyrrel’s carriage rattled to a stop outside the stable mews. Through the servants’ basement entrance, up the stairs, and into the library they ran. They had to reach the Judas hole before Tyrrel realized he’d been fooled. Magnolia’s chest rose and fell in quick, taut breaths. Justin would have offered comfort if they weren’t so pressed for time.

  Justin slid back the tiny door to the Judas hole — it was cunningly hidden as a knothole in the paneling — and stood on a stool. A sliver of the library opened before him, the sides, windows, and door cut off by the hole’s narrowness. All he could see was a wash of moonlight across the carpet, presumably from parted draperies, and the end of the cold hearth with a soft chair before it.

  Directly beside the hearth stood Lady Sybil’s faked cross, in a similar-but-different glass case, this one standing on a carved wooden box instead of a plinth. The gash Magnolia had found had been smoothed with gold leaf and rubbing; a patina of dark paint had aged the gold. Like the glass case, it looked the same, only different. Justin felt certain it would fool anyone who didn’t look closely.

  Magnolia’s gowns rustled behind him, but he ignored her pacing.

  She mumbled beneath her panting breath. “No time, no time.”

  In their safe room, Justin heard the library’s latch rattle. Moments later the lock clicked and the door creaked open. From his poor angle, Justin couldn’t see the door, but he could just make out a long, dark shadow stretching through the moonlight and toward the cross.

  Their original plan had included the constable, present to make the arrest. But Tyrrel’s haste in seizing this “second” gold cross meant the constable was not there and hadn’t even been notified. Justin wrestled over the choice as the shadow approached the glass case. Should they let Tyrrel go, or stop him on their own? Could they?

  Justin narrowed his eyes. Someone new had entered the room, a second shadow stretching toward the first. It could only be Tyrrel’s partner, because Tyrrel crept forward, ignoring the shadow lying atop his own. He lifted the glass case, set it aside, and grasped the bejeweled cross. A wicked smile spread across his lips.

  Excited. The thief was excited, not guilty, not repentant. Enraged, Justin clenched his fists. He should—

  In the library, a hand wielding a candlestick rose, highlighted by the moon’s eerie blue glow. Justin gasped. The hand and arm seemed disembodied, cut off by the Judas hole’s confines, as if a ghost stalked the thief. Then the candlestick crashed down upon Tyrrel’s head with a sickening thump. Tyrrel collapsed where he stood, the cross thudding to the floor.

  Justin gasped again and fell from the stool. He turned to Magnolia, wanting to share what he’d witnessed, but she was gone, and his pulse roared within him.

  Chapter Nine: The Riddle

  Magnolia’s heartbeat thumped wildly in her chest. The cold feel of the candlestick raced up her arm and she dropped the heavy molded brass. It fell beside the counterfeit cross, beside Tyrrel, with a most satisfying thump.

  Matches suddenly flared. Candles winked on around her, from beside the draperies, from behind the freestanding bookcase, from the library’s deepest dark corners. Footmen, the butler, men she’d never seen before, all emerged from hiding, converging on her and on Tyrrel’s immobile form.

  “Magnolia?” Justin whispered.

  She blinked and focused on his worried face. Never before had she injured anyone. The shock of doing so had frozen her until she hadn’t even recognized Justin standing beside her. She squeezed his forearm. Her mind still seemed addled, so she leaned against him.

  For support, of course.

  “What happened here?” the constable asked.

  She blinked again. Where had he come from? They hadn’t had time to alert him. But reasoning through the events of the evening still seemed too difficult. She held her peace while Justin explained.

  “And you witnessed this from where?”

  Justin pointed. “From the Judas hole, constable.”

  The sheriff stroked his chin. “I see that Tyrrel is holding the cross, as if he means to steal it, but–”

  “I did steal it.” A groan punctuated the words. Tyrrel rose on one elbow. “That’s right, I stole the cross. I’m going to sell it and give the money to those with greater need.”

  “So you admit your thievery?” asked the constable.

  Tyrrel shakily gained his feet while holding his head. “I do.”

  Finally Magnolia’s vision cleared. The counterfeit cross lay flat on the decorative Oriental rug, ignored by everyone in the room; after all, they knew it was a fake. Candlelight flickered across it, and across Tyrrel’s face. A knot protruded from the back of his head, clearly visible. She swallowed. She had done that to him. She could have killed him! A gasp caught in her throat.

  “You’re coming with me.”

  The constable grabbed Tyrrel’s arm and dragged him from the room, even as he screamed, “I’m a modern Robin Hood. The masses need me!”

  Mr. Rotherham shook his head. “Mr. and Mrs. Tyrrel would have been shocked. But I guess odd things happen when a man flounders for too long.”

  As he emphasized those words, he peered at Justin. Magnolia gathered Mr. Rotherham’s meaning — indeed, everyone in the room must have understood him perfectly. He believed Justin should settle down, probably with his daughter.

  Magnolia’s knees wobbled and Justin caught her, holding her against his side. He half-carried, half-escorted her to a quiet corner and settled her on a velvet settee. She blinked and he was gone, and when she blinked again he returned, offering her a cup of tea. She sipped it, grateful as the warmth surged through her.

  Squatting before her, he clasped her free hand. “You shouldn’t have left the room and crashed the candlestick upon Tyrrel's head.”

  She shrugged and studied the golden-brown tea. There was no answer she could make, since she agreed with him. But hearing his concern cleared more of the fog from between her ears and touched her heart. If only he wasn’t enamored with Hesper…

  “If Tyrrel hadn’t confessed, we might have blown our case.”

  She sipped again, looking coyly over the rim.

  “And you don’t care.” He plopped down beside her. “One of these days, Magnolia…” He didn’t finish, and she wished she could read his mind.

  They sat quietly while she finished the tea and set the cup and saucer aside on a low table. She could think of nothing to say. Was he angry with her? Or just concerned? Was he truly set on Hesper for his wife, or could she possibly — just possibly — change his mind?

  Before she could settle on what to say, Hesper floated into the room, squealing and whirling in a circle. She would have landed in Justin’s lap if he hadn’t stood.

  Her chest heaved. Breathlessly, she said, “They say he broke in.”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you all right?” She grasped the folds of his lapels and stared longingly into his face.

  “Of course.”

  Hesper stepped back and slapped his arm with her silk reticule. “How could you let me worry like that? What possessed you? You should have let him go and we could have caught him next time.”

  “I didn’t catch him—”

  With a rush, her heart and mind settled. Magnolia rose. “Justin, don’t be so modest. You did it all.”

  Hesper humphed and Magnolia slid from the room, passing Mr. Rotherham, who spoke quietly with the constable. She couldn’t make out enough words for them to mean anything, though, as she strolled outsid
e. The cool night air soothed her, and she filled her lungs to the brim.

  If Justin wanted Hesper, then Hesper he would have. And she… she would go home, alone.

  Tyrrel stood between two burly Bow Street runners. “You’ll never find the cross.”

  Suddenly angry, she whirled to face him. “Maybe if you tell me where it is, Lady Sybil will drop the charges.” Everything would have been better if Tyrrel had never started stealing, if he’d never driven Justin to investigate, if they’d never started Justice and Miss Quinn… if she’d never learned to think of Justin in that way.

  Tyrrel threw his head back and roared with maniacal laughter. When he lowered his chin and stared at her, his cold expression raced chills along her spine. “I’ll give you a hint. The cross is everywhere — but nowhere.”

  “What does that mean?”

  She stepped closer but froze when the constable yelled, “Get away from there!”

  She moved, but Tyrrel’s crazed eyes followed her and her heart pounded. What on earth did he mean? If she got closer, maybe she could get him to explain.

  But her next step forward stopped with warm hands clasping her shoulders. Justin whispered, “Come to the carriage.”

  She let him guide her. What were they going to do now?

  ****

  Justin’s worry increased at Magnolia’s continued sullenness. They’d caught the thief, but she didn’t seem happy or satisfied. Had she secretly hoped it wasn’t Tyrrel? If so…

  He reached across the carriage and slipped his hands into hers. “Magnolia, you did well today.”

  That caused her lips to twitch upward.

  No, he couldn’t believe that she liked Tyrrel. She’d not exactly despised the man, but she’d certainly never thought of him in that way. And why would that realization light such a fire in his heart?