Diamonds and Deceit (At Somerton)

by Rasheed, Leila

  “I think I’ll go for a walk,” said Sebastian at once. “A pleasure to see you, Huntleigh.” He went to the door, and as he stepped out, turned to raise an eyebrow at Rose. Rose knew what he was thinking, and couldn’t summon up a smile to answer him.

  Alexander glanced at the chair. “May I sit down?”

  “Of course,” Rose said awkwardly. She wished he would simply leave, and not give her the pain of this conversation. She crossed to the bell. “I shall ring for tea. It’s a long drive from London—no doubt you are thirsty.”

  “Oh, don’t bother with that.” He waved a hand dismissively.

  “Very well.” Rose returned to her chair. She seated herself upright on the very edge, painfully conscious of the contrast with the last time they had met.

  “I think you know why I’ve come here,” he said. There was a note of excitement in his voice, and he quickly got up and strode about the room. “I never thought I would be a married man, but when you meet the right woman, it seems natural, doesn’t it?” He waited for her reply.

  Rose did not respond. She did not trust herself to speak calmly.

  He went on, sounding awkward, “I know I said I’d never do anything so conventional, but that is why we are so perfect for each other—you are anything but conventional, Rose.” He laughed. “My father would be turning in his grave if he knew I were to marry a housekeeper’s daughter.”

  Rose flinched.

  Alexander, not seeming to notice, went on. “I thought we could get married in Paris, then travel down to the south of France—see the places where the Impressionists painted, then on to Morocco, perhaps. We needn’t invite anyone unless you’d like to.”

  “Excuse me,” Rose said, interrupting him. She was astonished at his arrogance. “I think you neglected to say something.”

  Alexander looked startled, then he smiled. “Oh—of course. If you’d like me to do it the usual way.…” He got up and knelt on one knee in front of her. With what Rose thought of as a mocking flourish, he bowed, and said, “Lady Rose, will you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage?” He reached into his pocket and drew out a blue velvet box. He opened it, revealing a diamond ring set in an intricate white gold band. It was like a star in a blue velvet night.

  “Pretty, isn’t it?” he said. “From the parure. Will you marry me, Rose?”

  Rose could control herself no longer. She started to her feet, trembling with anger and sorrow. “No. I will not.”

  Alexander stared at her in astonishment. Slowly he got to his feet, as she went on.

  “Your self-confidence—your condescension—is breathtaking. Did you not for one moment entertain the idea that I might not accept you?”

  Alexander slowly put the ring back in his pocket. “Well—honestly, Rose, no I didn’t. I thought we understood each other.”

  Rose tried to calm herself, to speak reasonably. “And I thought that you loved me.”

  “I do!”

  “No, Alexander. You are not seeking to marry me for love, but for hate. Hatred of your father.”

  “I beg your pardon! How can you assume you know what I think, what I feel?” He sounded angry now too.

  “I heard what you said to Lady Emily.”

  “Lady Emily!” He sounded astonished. Rose, infuriated, opened her mouth to speak again, but he interrupted her. “Do you not realize that if you do not marry me, there will be no way out for you? Rose, for your own sake, for the sake of your reputation—”

  “How dare you assume that I would marry you for that reason alone!” Rose could not hold back her fury.

  “But—”

  “I won’t marry just for reputation’s sake. And I am not merely a convenient way of rebelling against your father. I would not marry any man on those terms, and I will not marry you.”

  She pushed past him and ran from the room.

  “Rose,” Georgiana said, as she came out of the music room. “Did you see if the post has come yet—” But Rose hurried past her, a handkerchief pressed to her eyes. Georgiana’s voice died away, and she watched in astonishment as Rose ran up the stairs. A few moments later she heard a door slam.

  Georgiana stood where she was, uncertain what to do. Part of her wanted to go after Rose, but a more urgent voice told her to go downstairs and see if Michael had replied to her letter. The instant she had posted it she had regretted wording it so harshly; but as the days passed she had decided she had not been half unkind enough. Priya, alone, pregnant and in London, was in the worst possible situation. The more she thought about it, the more furious with Michael Georgiana became.

  “So stupid of him!” she exclaimed to herself as she went downstairs.

  “E-excuse me, my lady.”

  Georgiana turned as she heard the timid whisper. She hadn’t even noticed Annie standing in the hallway. It was so surprising to be spoken to first by a housemaid that she didn’t answer right away. Annie glanced left and right, then moved toward her.

  “I’m sorry, my lady—but I have a message. From Master Michael.”

  Georgiana took a step toward her at once. “From Michael?” she said in an undertone. “But why has he spoken to you? I don’t understand. Where is he? Is he coming home?”

  “He is home, my lady. He asked me to let you know he was outside, in the kitchen garden. He didn’t want to come inside, for fear—”

  “The coward!” Georgiana exclaimed. Annie shook her head.

  “No, my lady, please—I wanted to speak to you before. I think I know what happened, Miss, to Priya. And it wasn’t Master Templeton. He swears it and I believe him.”

  Georgiana looked her keenly, but Annie seemed distraught enough to be telling the truth.

  “Then who—” She hesitated. She was aware that she had already hinted at far too much about Michael and Priya’s relationship, and she was wary of giving more away.

  “My lady,” Annie whispered, twisting her hands nervously in her apron strings, “I have to tell you, for it’s been weighing on my conscience. Priya said something to me before she went to London. She was afraid, so afraid, and I just—” Annie broke off, looking desperate with remorse.

  Georgiana turned cold. “Afraid of what?”

  “Of Sir William, my lady.”

  “Oh no,” Georgiana whispered. A wave of guilt swept over her. She should have known—she should have seen it. She was responsible for the staff. Could Priya have been hiding this secret all along? And Michael—she had promised him she would look after Priya.

  “I must go out to him,” she said aloud. She turned to the door, leaving Annie standing where she was. Almost at a run, Georgiana hurried down the corridor and out into the courtyard, without pausing for her hat or gloves. When she saw the gate to the kitchen garden standing open, she broke into an outright run. She caught the wrought-iron gatepost and swung round it, almost into Michael’s arms. They gazed at each other, Georgiana breathing fast.

  Michael was the first to speak. “I have to go to London, to look for her. I only wanted to see you to swear it wasn’t me. I haven’t slept since I got your letter, I came at once.”

  His face was white and dirty, streaked with tears. There were smudges of oil on his Eton uniform.

  “I couldn’t go to the house for fear of being caught and sent back to school. I’ve been lurking about here for hours until I found Annie.” He went on, his voice shaking with passion. “She told me about William. I’ll kill him.”

  “Michael,” Georgiana began, frightened because she could see he was serious.

  “You must tell me where he is.”

  “Michael, no.” Georgiana was surprised by the authority in her own voice. She faced Michael commandingly. “What we must do is find Priya. That’s the most important thing. William can wait.”

  “You’re right.” He ran a hand through his hair, leaving grease marks. “I’ll go to London at once. Annie says she talked of going to look for a boat back to India, among the lascars in the East End.”

 
He turned away and began walking through the bushes in the direction of the road. Georgiana followed him, hurrying through the bushes, twigs and grit getting into her thin shoes.

  “Wait—but how will you get to London? And—how did you get here?”

  Michael turned to her, a thin smile touching his lips for the first time. “I stole a beak’s car. Headmaster’s, actually. Not really stole—I’ll bring it back.”

  “Michael!” Despite her worry about Priya, Georgiana was scandalized and delighted. “They’ll expel you without a doubt.”

  He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except finding Priya—and killing William.”

  Georgiana caught his arm, frightened by the determination in his voice. “You must let me come.”

  “You?” Michael shook his head. “I’m sorry, but you’d be no use. Besides, your chest is bad. You’d catch your death of something in the East End, and your father would never forgive me.”

  Georgiana swallowed her pain at his harsh voice. There was no sense in arguing now. Priya needed them. “Nonsense—my chest has been better for months now. Besides, if she’s going to the lascars, you’ll have to talk to them to find out about her. I don’t suppose you speak a word of Bengali.”

  Michael opened his mouth, then shut it again.

  “Exactly,” said Georgiana in triumph. “But I do. Our ayah was Bengali.” She paused an instant to let this settle in. “You need me, Michael. Now hurry up—let’s go.”

  Ada paused in the corridor, glimpsing Charlotte in the drawing room with Cooper. Charlotte’s back was turned, but Ada heard her saying, “And the guest rooms, are they prepared? I am sure Lady Ellingborough would like fresh flowers in her room, and Laurence I expect will like a room to compose himself for the wedding as soon as he arrives.”

  “I’ll see to it at once, miss,” Cooper replied.

  Ada drew a slight breath of surprise: Charlotte, helping with the preparations? It was unprecedented. Charlotte turned around, and Ada was struck by the expression on her face. Instead of the usual sulky, mutinous look, it was softer, and strangely self-conscious.

  “I’m sorry, I overheard, and…are you really helping? I’m so grateful. It is a lot of work.” She spoke warmly, and was rewarded by Charlotte’s slight blush.

  “I want to help,” Charlotte said awkwardly. She showed Ada the notebook she held. “I was just cataloguing the wedding gifts. You have received a beautiful set of porcelain from Mrs. Verulam.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Ada said.

  Charlotte hesitated. As Cooper moved discreetly away, she spoke in a rush. “I overheard you and the bridesmaids when we were at the church. I’m grateful for your rescue.”

  “Oh…” Ada found herself feeling awkward. It had been such a natural thing to do that she had not thought about it since. “It was nothing. Emily sometimes allows her mischievous spirit to run away with her. I am sure she did not realize the damage her gossip could cause.”

  “Yes, but after we have so often been on…not the best of terms…it was a generous action on your part.” Charlotte seemed equally awkward, and Ada thought with amusement that Charlotte seemed much happier when she was in conflict with others.

  “I…I would like to be a better sister to you, in the future, if you’ll let me.” There was a slight note of pleading in her voice.

  Ada, astonished but delighted, smiled at her. “That’s a very kind and wonderful thing to say,” she said. “Nothing this year has made me happier.”

  “Not even when Laurence proposed?” Charlotte’s voice had a strange half laugh, half sob in it.

  Ada noticed and was puzzled. She forced a smile, and spoke quickly to avoid showing her mixed feelings about her wedding. “I am sorry that this season didn’t bring you joy also,” she said. “I know your mother is very keen to see you settled, and it must be tiring, sometimes.”

  Charlotte shrugged coldly, and Ada had the sense that a curtain had been allowed to fall back. “Oh,” her stepsister said, lightly, “I am used to it.” She turned and walked quickly out of the room.

  Thoughtfully, Ada watched her go. Perhaps Charlotte’s heart was not as ironclad as she liked people to think.

  London

  Michael pulled the motorcar over to the side of the road. Georgiana gazed around them in shock, and covered her mouth and nose. It stank of open sewers.

  “Are you sure this is the right place?” she whispered. The houses around her were half collapsing, slipping down into the mud of the Thames, propped up by shanties and shacks from which barefoot, dirty children peeped. A small crowd had collected at the end of the street, staring at them.

  “This is where they directed us to.” Michael’s face was grim. He got out of the car. “Come on.”

  Georgiana hesitated. She was tired from the long drive. It had taken all day, and she was frightened by the place where she found herself. She almost felt that she had left England and ended up in a foreign country. The green fields of Somerton seemed so far away. But she could not let Priya down now. She had taken responsibility for Somerton and that meant all the staff too.

  She got down and, holding her skirts as far out of the mud as possible, followed Michael across the street and into the shadowy maze of houses. The sun seemed to cut out here, and the faces peering at them from doorways were no longer children, but adults. Georgiana sniffed as she smelled something familiar: roti. She glanced to the side and saw an Indian man crouching inside a house, cooking the flat breads over a small fire. He stared at her with blank curiosity. Georgiana looked away hastily, then remembered what they were there for.

  “Michael.” She pulled his sleeve. “Let me ask that man if he’s seen her.”

  Michael followed her across to the crouching man, who watched them approach with the same wary, emotionless stare. Georgiana licked her lips; for a moment she thought her memory would desert her, and then the words came back to her.

  “Please…girl, my age, smaller than me…pregnant…you have seen her?” she fumbled in Bengali. She tried to describe Priya, her hands working as much as her tongue as she described the way Priya would be dressed, the shape of her face. The man shook his head slowly. Georgiana’s face fell. It was impossible to tell if he did not know, did not understand her, or did not want to understand her.

  “Someone must have seen her,” Michael said. “We must keep looking. A girl like Priya would stand out here.”

  Georgiana nodded. She didn’t say what she knew Michael was thinking: a girl like Priya might stand out and come to harm.

  They made their way down the street, asking everyone they saw. None of the lascars had an answer for them. The children giggled behind them, following them deeper into the slum. Georgiana felt panic rising inside her. How would they ever get out? Would they ever get out? She tried to force herself to breathe calmly.

  Then she spotted something that made her shriek in excitement. “Michael—look!” She pointed toward a pawnbroker’s window. There hung a gray woman’s coat.

  “It’s hers. I know, I’ve seen her wear it when she goes to the village.” She rushed over and fingered the cloth. “See here, I remember this darn. These people must know something!”

  Michael turned to the pawnbroker, who was watching them nervously. “How did this coat come here? We’re looking for a young girl, an Indian girl, who would have arrived in this neighborhood not long ago. She would have been smartly dressed.”

  The pawnbroker shook his head. “We’ll pay for information,” Georgiana said, perhaps too eagerly.

  The pawnbroker smiled, showing bad teeth. “You put your purse away, my dear. This is a bad neighborhood to have money in.” He turned and called into the back, “Rachel!”

  A thin, big-eyed girl came forward from the darkness in the shop. She looked twelve, but Georgiana realized that the girl had to be close to her own age.

  “You tell her, miss. She’s as likely to have seen her as me.”

  “Did you see this lady?” Georgiana q
uickly described Priya to her.

  To her joy, Rachel nodded. “I did, miss, yes. She came and sold that there coat. I gave her a shilling for it.”

  “Where did she go then? Did she tell you what her plans were?” Michael demanded.

  The girl hesitated, rubbing her bare foot along her thin shin. She glanced at the pawnbroker. Then she shook her head. “I don’t know, miss. I’m sorry.”

  “Well, did you see which way she went?”

  Rachel gestured with her chin toward the dankest of the small alleys that led off from the square.

  Georgiana’s heart sank. “Thank you. You’ve been a great help.” She pressed a shilling into the girl’s hand and turned away.

  Michael strode down the alley, then hesitated, and turned back to offer Georgiana an arm. Georgiana took it gratefully. Clutching each other nervously, they went into the darkness.

  There were fewer people here to ask. But at last Georgiana knocked on a door that opened to reveal three Indian men, one with a long white beard and a serene expression, the others very dark and silent.

  “We’re looking for a girl,” Georgiana began without much hope. As she came to the end of her description, the man with the white beard shook his head.

  Georgiana’s heart sank still further. They couldn’t have come all this way, had this stroke of luck of finding her coat, only to have the trail go cold.

  She looked around, not knowing what she hoped to spot. A couple of grubby, peaky little urchins still watched her from the corner. They whispered to each other and looked at her. One advanced, as wary as a city pigeon.

  “Miss,” he began, speaking from a safe distance. “Was you looking for the Indian girl?”

  Georgiana stared at him. She could barely believe what she was hearing.

  Michael recovered first. “Yes, we are. Can you tell us where she is? Have you seen her?”

  The urchin nodded. He rubbed one foot against his shin. “Gizza penny?” he suggested.

  Georgiana fumbled in her purse and handed him a shilling.

  “Cor, thanks, miss!” The urchin’s eyes widened, and he popped the coin in his mouth—not having any pockets. “I saw an Indian girl go in there.” He pointed toward a lumberyard, dank and depressed looking. “She went in that shack.”