Aunt Sophie's Diamonds

by Joan Smith

  “I am very grateful you let me in on it. I’ll do my bit with the shovel and—should we not take a crowbar to pry open the casket?”

  “Will it be nailed shut?”

  “It is the custom, I believe.”

  “How vexing. Gabriel said he would take care of the tools, but I bet he doesn’t know we shall need a crowbar.”

  “Let us take one along, just to show him how wide awake we are.”

  “And if we can’t find one, we’ll take the axe.”

  Claudia recoiled slightly at the picture conjured up of them chopping through a wooden coffin, possibly right through to the contents thereof, but she didn’t demur an iota.

  “I can get away quite easily,” Luane said, “but perhaps your mama will check your room at a late hour?”

  “No, she won’t.”

  “Good, I didn’t really think so. Does she like you at all?”

  The startled exclamation this question called forth was coughed away. “Yes, in her own way. She is not an effusive person.”

  “She was effusive about the jewelry. She means to get your emerald ring from you.”

  Claudia looked in wonder at this artless girl with the knowing mind of a woman, and not yet the guile to conceal it. “She shan’t get it,” she said.

  “I have been thinking of a famous stunt, cousin, only I daresay Hillary won’t let us do it, he is such a prude.”

  “A prude! That is certainly not the word I would have used to describe him.”

  “He was only showing off yesterday and a little today. He is really very straight and stiff, and never lets me or Gab do anything at all. He acts satirical like that sometimes when he doesn’t like people.”

  “I see,” Claudia answered, marveling anew at her companion’s blunt speech.

  “I don’t mean you. It is Jonathon and your mama. He doesn’t like them because of the way they neglected Sophie, then came pacing down the minute they heard she was dying.”

  “Yes, now where shall we meet, and at what hour?”

  “I’ll take the livery to your room after dinner. You get dressed and slip downstairs around eleven. Agreed?” She stuck out a little hand, like a man, and gave a violent shake to Claudia’s hand.

  “Agreed.”

  “I'm glad I decided to let you come.”

  “I’m very grateful,” Claudia said, hiding a smile at this condescension. “By the way, what was the stunt you mentioned?”

  “I should love to give you the paste emerald ring, and let your mama take it back to London. She’d not likely ever know the difference, and then wouldn’t be pestering you for the real one.”

  “You don’t begin to know mama. The first thing she’d do would be to take it and have it evaluated.”

  “I suppose she would. Hillary said she was sharp as a tack.” On this flattering speech, the cousins returned to the house.

  Chapter Six

  Two very different sorts of dinners were suffered through and enjoyed by the inhabitants of Swallowcourt and Chanely respectively. While Captain Tewksbury and Mrs. Milmont were settling in for a hand of piquet and Claudia and Luane were chatting quietly in a corner with Miss Bliss, Sir Hillary and Gabriel sat over a glass of ale, discussing the day’s events and particularly the will. “Do you plan to marry Loo within the year?” Hillary asked.

  “I always intended to marry her as soon as I was through college—well, and as soon as I have some means of supporting her of course.”

  “I’m sorry if it was my influence that caused you to put it off at Christmas. You both seemed so young.”

  “We neither of us wanted to when Sophie started her pushing. There’s nothing like being told you must do something to make you sure you don’t want to do it.”

  “There’s no guarantee that your marriage to Luane is the event she refers to in the will. Unless you are determined to have her, I shouldn’t do it on the expectation of inheriting. Not do it just for that, I mean.”

  “No, no. That has nothing to do with it. It would put us in easier circumstances, of course, but I can get a position of some sort. Lots of the fellows plan to do so. What do you think I should apply myself to, Uncle?”

  “A seat in Parliament eventually, but you’re a bit young for that yet. A few years as secretary to some member would be good experience. I’ll speak to some friends. I can tide you over financially till you’re in a better paying job.”

  “I can’t take any more from you. Paying for my education . . .”

  “At the moment you’re my heir, cawker. A fine skint I'd look, with the pair of you begging on a street corner while I live the high life in my various mansions.”

  “It goes against the grain.”

  “It’s bound to, but we weren’t all born shod and hosed, Gab. Thank your stars you have some family. That’s what families are for, you know.”

  “Some families. That Mrs. Milmont is a rum touch, ain’t she, Uncle?”

  “You’re too kind in your choice of words.”

  They talked on in this manner till ten, with never a sarcastic or nasty remark leveled at Gabriel. Sir Hillary was fond of his charge, and in fact considered him as something very like a son. He had felt alone, though not lonely, in the world after his father’s death ten years previously, till he had been saddled with Gabriel. He was always fond of Gab’s mother, his cousin Anita, and though he wasn’t the closest relative, he had taken the boy willingly. By insensible degrees he had regulated his life so that it revolved around his cousin. He made it a point to be home at Chanely when Gab was on holiday, and for his racier friends not to be. He took a more than avuncular interest in the boy, but was determined not to be so bound to him that he interfered unduly in his life. He and Loo were a good match—were as at home with each other as an old married couple despite their youth. Odd their relationship had developed along these lines rather than as brother and sister, but Gab was just enough older so that Loo had always adored him.

  As the hands of the clock circled past ten, Hillary and his nephew both began stirring restively. Gabriel was waiting till his uncle mentioned retiring, failing which— and ten-thirty was pretty early for him to go to bed—he must start yawning himself. Hillary was wishing Gabriel would invite him along on the diamond hunt. He half hoped he wouldn’t, too, for he supposed it behove him to put a damper on the scheme. He was ninety-nine per cent sure Gabriel meant to go and ninety-eight percent sure Loo would be with him, but hadn’t even a suspicion that Claudia would be along. Added to this, he was about ninety per cent plus sure Jonathon would have a go at the grave-digging. Yes, it would be an interesting night, one way or the other.

  Gabriel was not happy that Miss Milmont was to be of the party and risked sounding out his uncle on the girl. “How does Loo’s cousin strike you—the Milmont girl?” he asked.

  “As not quite a girl,” was the sardonic reply.

  “What do you mean? Of course, she’s a girl.”

  “Oh, she was once, no doubt of that. I didn’t take her for a man in disguise.”

  “Well, do you think she’s old?”

  “Older than seven,” he answered cryptically.

  “She seemed quite young to me, but older than Loo, of course. I meant though, do you think she’s trustworthy?”

  “She hasn’t had any opportunity to inveigle herself into the will. Never met Sophie till two minutes before she cocked up her toes and wasn’t aware there were diamonds in the case, or so she told me. I am inclined to believe her.”

  “I didn’t mean that exactly,” but what he did want to say proved difficult to put into words. “Do you think she would do Loo a mischief if she could?”

  “I don’t see how she could, unless she is attempting to set up a flirtation with yourself and alienate your affections.”

  “She certainly isn’t doing that! I don’t think she’s much interested in men, do you?”

  “No, she’ll turn into a fine maiden aunt in another decade. Be just the one to lend a hand with your houseful of b
rats. You want to be nice to her.”

  Gabriel smiled at his playful rejoinder and then began yawning, stretching, and exhibiting all the gestures associated with the onset of sleepiness.

  “If you’re turning in already, I’ll go to my study and go over some accounts,” Hil said. This would give Gabriel privacy to sneak out of the house, suitably attired in some old dark clothing, and also be an excellent vantage point from which to watch his ascent to Swallowcourt, as the study windows looked in that direction. Not knowing Loo had found a different escort in Claudia, he assumed Gab would go to get her. He became impatient when half an hour had passed and still no dark figure was seen going up the bill.

  Surely he isn’t letting her come all alone, he thought to himself, then slipped quietly up to Gab’s room to ensure that he was in fact gone. The bed was empty, of course. Now how the hell did he slip past me? Going quickly to his own room, he dressed silently and swiftly in dark clothing. Knowing the night to be chilly, he threw a long black cape over the outfit, grabbed a hat, and went to the stable. He was not in the least surprised to see Gab’s mount gone, but wondered whether he ought to go directly to the graveyard, or head up towards Swallow-court. Getting such a late start, be went directly to the graveyard. He tethered Lady, his bay mare, at the gate, and went silently on foot towards the east side, where Sophie had that same morning been interred.

  His eyes accustomed now to the gloom, Hillary surveyed the gothic scene before him. The trees, still thinly leaved, formed a black skeleton background at the yard’s edge. A wind came howling down from the north, flailing the branches. The stones and marble grave markings erupted from the earth at irregular intervals, like ghosts rising from the dead. Sir Hillary was not a fanciful man, yet the hair lifted on the back of his neck when a fox barked in the distance—three eerie howls.

  He had spoken to Fletcher about a guard, but he noticed that the man had not yet assumed his duties; the grave was not guarded. Concealing himself behind the granite slab of some long-gone gentleman by the name of Alexander Coughlin, he peered over toward Sophie’s last resting-place.

  Then he heard the soft sound of metal being judiciously applied to loose earth. He recognized Gab instantly with the shovel, while Loo stood lookout for other comers. There was no moon, and if she had missed his own careful approach, she might have missed the captain as well. Hillary took it upon himself to help her observation. After looking around, he returned his intent gaze to the scene before him. He now saw that there was a third party present—a tall person in trousers. Surely to God they hadn’t invited Jonathon and left himself out! He took an angry pace forward, then stopped as a soft, feminine voice came from the shadow he had thought to be Jonathon.

  “It’s my turn now, Gabriel. I wish you had brought two shovels. We shall be here half the night.”

  “I’m winded,” Gab replied and handed the shovel to Miss Milmont, the possessor of the soft voice. She began digging away like any man. She tired pretty soon, and Gabriel took over again. For half an hour they dug away, while Hillary watched in silence from his place of concealment. He disliked that a third party had been brought in. During his vigil, it occurred to him that Gab’s questions about Miss Milmont had been because she was to join the dig. Oh, yes, and that’s why he hadn’t seen his nephew go up to Swallowcourt, too.

  The lid of the coffin was finally unearthed. He could hear the harder slap of the shovel against the wood when this happened. There was some excited discussion among the group, and Miss Milmont handed a crowbar to Gabriel.

  “I told you the lid would be nailed down. Now aren’t you glad you asked me? Just think if you got this far and had to turn back for lack of a crowbar.” The squawk was clearly audible when Gab succeeded in prizing off the lid. Some other sound seemed to occur as well—some half-human preternatural sound, as of a banshee howling.

  “Good God!” Gabriel shouted loudly.

  “You cannot mean someone’s beaten us to it!” Miss Milmont answered.

  “No, there’s a steel box welded shut under the wooden coffin. No wonder she seemed to weigh a ton.”

  “Oh, the wretch!” Loo complained, but Miss Milmont went into a very girlish fit of giggles, and Hillary too found himself stifling a laugh into his fist.

  Getting herself under control, Miss Milmont said in a matter-of-fact voice, “What a bother! We shall have to return tomorrow night with a welding torch. I expect we should fill back in the earth, in case someone happens to come by tomorrow.”

  “Damnation!” Gabriel exploded, and began to shovel. “Whoever heard of such a stunt. Burying yourself in a steel box, sealed shut, I think she was crazy.”

  “It was to protect the diamonds very likely,” Miss Milmont told him.

  “I don’t see how we are to get a welding torch here,” Gabriel complained on. “What we ought to do is take the coffin along home, and open it there in the stables, then bring it back tomorrow night.”

  “That odious Sir Hillary would not let us use his stable for Aunt Sophie,” Miss Milmont answered unhesitatingly, and Thoreau’s eyebrows rose in the darkness. Odious, am I? “But a steel coffin would be too heavy in any case,” the soft voice went on. “And we didn’t think to bring a carriage—only our mounts. As I may very likely have to carry Casper home on my back, I don’t see how it can be contrived.” Lord, had she pulled that sluggard of a Casper all the way from Swallowcourt?

  “It can’t, of course,” Gabriel agreed. “The six of us men today could hardly lift it. Well, what a waste of time!”

  “I was never so gammoned in my life,” Miss Milmont agreed mildly.

  “It is exactly like Aunt Sophie,” Loo told then both in an angry tone.

  “She sounds a positive beast,” Claudia said, “I am becoming quite happy I never met her till she was at death’s door. And the one look she cast on me was very disapproving, too, now I consider it. She would have liked to light into me for not coming sooner, I bet.”

  “You’re lucky she was dying,” Loo replied.

  “It will serve her well to have the diamonds ripped from her rotting corpse,” Claudia continued.

  “Will it be decomposing already?” Gabriel asked, in a voice trying to conceal the horror he felt.

  “I daresay it will have reached an advanced state of putrefaction before we get the steel box open,” Claudia answered readily and with satisfaction. “Though it is quite cold, and that preserves flesh. In fact, Loo, I don’t know about you, but I’m freezing in this ventilated suit you found for me. Shall we all help replace the earth and go on home?”

  “We might as well,” Loo answered, “but I’ll never forgive her for this. Never.”

  “No more you should,” Claudia replied, and began kicking earth into the hole with her booted foot.

  While he gazed and listened, Sir Hillary was trying to figure out what the young ladies were wearing. Trousers it seemed. He was not surprised to discover Loo in such a prank, but it amazed him that the placid Miss Milmont should have consented to such a scheme, and to enter into the whole with such good humor. He had thought Marcia had squeezed all the life out of her; he was rapidly revising his first opinion.

  The night, already dark, cold, and windy, now took the final step and began to lash the conspirators with rain. “I wish we had another shovel!” Claudia remarked. Failing this, she began pulling the earth into the hole with her bare hands and urged Loo to do likewise, or they’d be there all night.

  Hillary then stepped forward. “Trouble?” he asked, in normal, friendly voice.

  “Uncle Hil!” Gabriel gasped and dropped the shovel.

  “Oh it’s you,” Luane exclaimed, and Miss Milmont just looked, quite unconcerned.

  “As you see,” Claudia answered, “we came to retrieve Miss Beresford’s property but ran into a slight hitch.” The water streamed down her face, plastering a stray wisp of hair over one eye as she spoke.

  Seeing that his uncle was not angry, Gabriel rallied and said, “The worst luck, Hil, the
old fool has got herself buried in a steel box, welded shut, under the wooden coffin. Did you ever hear of such a thing?”

  “I heard the whole from behind a tombstone. Take the ladies home, Gab, and I’ll fill in this hole.”

  “It’s nearly done,” Gab pointed out.

  “Do as he says,” Loo commanded her lover. “I am freezing to death, and so is Claudia.”

  “So am I if it comes to that,” Gabriel retorted. “I’m soaked clean through.”

  Claudia began to sneeze, and a shudder shook her. “Go on, take them home,” Hillary repeated.

  The three prepared to leave, and as they gave Hillary the shovel, Miss Milmont turned and said, “Thank you for your help, Sir Hillary. It is very kind of you.”

  “You’re very welcome, Miss Milmont,” he returned with a nod that sent water cascading from the brim of his hat over his face.

  She sneezed again, and he could see she was trembling. “Better stop at Chanely and give the ladies some dry clothes,” he said to Gabriel. Chanely Hall was about half-way between the graveyard and Swallowcourt. “And something hot to drink. Go in by the library door; I left it on the latch.”

  “You’re a great gun, Uncle,” Gab said, and shepherded his charges off to their mounts. It was a miserable, slow walk in the rain and dark to Chanely, made no swifter nor pleasanter by a recalcitrant Casper, much inclined to dawdle.

  Between the hole being nearly filled before they left and the slow gait set by the ancient gig horse, Sir Hillary reached the stable as soon as the others, and all four went together around to the library door.

  “Now that’s strange,” Hillary said to himself. “I left the door on the latch, but I’m certain I didn’t leave it wide open.” It was open now about three inches, but as there was a rose trellis in the garden to break the wind, the storm was not lashing the door so violently as it might have. He opened it wide on oiled hinges and stood thinking.

  “Shall we consider the mystery indoors?” Claudia suggested, sneezing again.

  “Yes, come in, all of you. You must be freezing in those wet clothes.”