Aunt Sophie's Diamonds

by Joan Smith

  “I have no proper mourning clothes either, mama,” her daughter said hopefully.

  “My dear, so far as I can see, your grandma dresses you in half-mourning all the time. You haven’t a bright stitch to your name, and that gown that you are wearing is close enough to gray to make no difference.”

  “It used to be blue,” Claudia explained.

  “Well it is gray now. What time do we leave, Captain?”

  “As soon as you’re all dressed.”

  “I’m not going,” Luane announced. “Gabriel, what are you and Sir Hillary doing?”

  “Nothing,” Gabriel answered, looking to his guardian.

  “Why don’t you ride along and escort the party?” Hillary suggested. “The carriage will hold the captain and the three ladies, and you can go mounted.”

  This plan pleased everyone except Jonathon but, as the King’s highway was free to all citizens, he could not well prevent Gabriel from going along.

  “Why don’t you come, Uncle?” Gab asked.

  “I have some business in the village.”

  “Aren’t we going to the village?” Claudia asked.

  “No, we are going to Maldon,” Loo told her. “Sir Hillary is going to Billericay—it is only two miles away, and is just a little place. Maldon is bigger.”

  The gentlemen left, and the ladies went to prepare themselves for the trip.

  Luane was happy to be having an outing with Gabriel, Mrs. Milmont in alt to be going to dinner at Chanely, and Claudia very excited indeed to be doing anything festive. Marcia came into her daughter’s room, demanding to know whether Claudia had gloves to protect her emerald, and to ask whether she ought to wear the pearls—much too dressy, of course—or risk leaving them behind.

  “Wear them under your gown, mama.”

  “Why, so I shall, an excellent idea. Yes, and I have had another excellent idea, too, my dear, and tell me what you think of it. You recall Mr. Blandings, that nice gentleman we met at Bath two years ago?”

  “The big man with dark hair? I remember him.”

  “I daresay you didn’t know, for I haven’t mentioned it to you, but the fact of the matter is, he has become very particular in his attentions to me over the past two years. Yes, indeed, he has several times hinted he wants to marry me, only he is not quite . . . not to say he isn’t a gentleman, for he certainly is, and loaded with money too.”

  “Why don’t you have him?” Claudia asked.

  “The fact of the matter is, he got his money in trade—owned an ironmongery, but in Somerset, so far away no one need know. But marrying him was not the idea I had in mind, though I might very well . . . What I meant was, I shall ask him here.”

  “Here?” Claudia asked, stunned at the ineligibility of the scheme. “What on earth for?”

  “To steal the diamonds for us. What could be better? He will know precisely how to open up the steel chest. It will be like opening a hat box for him, for he is so clever, especially with metal. Someone will take them before the year is up. You may depend on that. Already young Gabriel has been after them, and the captain would have, too, if he hadn’t been busy trying to steal the tiara. That was very bad of him, was it not? And hardly worth his while, I should have thought. But if they are to be stolen by just anyone, we might as well have them as not. They were given to Sophie by her great aunt, Lady Mary Withers, and she was my great aunt too, and it seems to me if anyone is to get them, it ought to be me.”

  “If Mr. Blandings is so rich, mama, you shan’t need them, and really Luane had nothing.”

  “Pooh, she has the tiara, hasn’t she? It is extremely valuable, very likely, and besides, the necklace will be yours eventually, so I should think you would be willing to help us.”

  “Help you!”

  “Help Jerry—Mr. Blandings and myself, to steal it.”

  “Oh, mama, I could not!”

  “What a gapeseed you are. I should have known more than to expect you to lend yourself to anything the slightest bit irregular, with the way your grandma Milmont has raised you, like a blasted saint, but at least you must be quiet about my plan.”

  “How do you plan to account for asking him here?”

  “I have it all thought out. He lives in Essex, you see, that is just what is so convenient about it. He’s bought a country seat near Colchester and is setting himself up as a country gentleman, though he hardly ever goes there. And if he should be driving from London to Marcyhurst—that is what he’s called his place, after me of course, Marcia . . . Well, as I was saying, if he should be passing by, what more natural than that he should stop off to say ‘how do you do’ to me? Then we have only to arrange a little invitation, and I’ll say I’m lending you my carriage to return to Devon, so he will have to wait and take me back to London.”

  “But he was coming from London to Colchester.”

  “Well, the other way around then; what’s the odds? He will have an excuse to stay over, and there you have as neat a scheme as you could care for.”

  Claudia was overcome at the complexity of it all and wished to eliminate the whole. “Sir Hillary has hired a guard for the grave. I can’t think you will succeed with your plan.”

  “A guard? My dear, have you forgotten Mr. Blandings is over six feet tall? And a bruiser, too. He will knock over any guard with one hand tied behind his back, and could lift the steel casket out of its hole all by himself.”

  “Jonathon will not invite him to stay. Indeed it is already a great deal for us to be staying so long.”

  “No, he and the captain are good friends. I see a deal of Jonathon in town, you must know. We were all together at the play only last month, and the two of them frequently dine at my place. Besides, Jonathon will do as I tell him, now that I know he tried to steal Luane’s tiara. And another thing, Claudia, Jerry has taken the absurd notion that you are not my daughter at all, but only a stepdaughter. I can’t imagine where he got such an idea. But in case he should mention anything about it, you might just tell him you call yourself my daughter since we are so very close, but really you are your papa’s daughter by his first marriage, and that is why you are staying with your Devon grandparents.”

  “And also why I am twenty-four?” Claudia asked with an innocent gaze not quite authentic.

  “Your age need not come into it.”

  “Yes, mama. When do you expect Mr. Blandings to arrive?”

  “I have just written the letter and will post it in Maldon today. He should have it tomorrow and, if I know Jerry, he will dash down here immediately.”

  “How nice,” Claudia said in a dying voice, and turned to the mirror to adjust a very plain navy bonnet over her brown curls.

  She then went to Luane’s room and disclosed the whole story to her, urging her to get her diamonds as soon as possible, for Mr. Blandings was a giant who could pull the steel box out of the earth with his bare hands.

  “We must do it tonight—or tomorrow at the latest.”

  “We’ll talk it over with Gab and Sir Hillary tonight.”

  “Yes, and I should prefer you not tell them about mama’s plan.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she’s my mother.”

  “They’ll think it’s Jonathon we’re afraid of.”

  “Yes, and he will be after them, too, since your tiara is safely out of his reach.”

  Chapter Eight

  The trip to Maldon was a pleasant variation in the dull lives of the young ladies on the expedition. Mrs. Milmont, too, derived some pleasure in driving a sharp bargain on a piece of very nice black lace that would lend her mourning weeds an elegant touch, and found a fine white satin rose that trifled with the rules of mourning without quite rupturing them. No purchases of any significance were made by the two younger girls, both with their pockets to let. Claudia’s handsome allowance was only a fiction, and of Luane’s there was not even a fiction; she had a guinea a month while her aunt lived, and nothing upon her death. When Sir Hillary spoke of her having some little m
oney from her mama to pay for her chaperone, he planned to pay for it himself. Marcia very nearly bought her daughter a pair of black gloves, till she remembered she had a similar pair at home in London that she could send her when she got back to town. She would have them then for Devon, and wouldn’t be going anywhere to speak of while at Swallowcourt. She pointed out quite a few handsome articles she would have liked to buy Claudia but for this sad, sad mourning that was upon them. No point in buying her the bonnet with the primroses, for she couldn’t wear it, and very likely it would be out of style by next year.

  It had been the captain’s hope to let the ladies fend for themselves during the shopping spree and meet them for lunch, but as Gabriel made no move to leave, he stuck with them as well, jostling elbows with Gab in an effort to walk beside Luane. Mrs. Milmont put him to good use, however, by ladening him with her purchases and later sending him off to post her letter. Claudia, used to no more than a weekly visit to a very dull local village, thought she had a marvelous time and was inordinately pleased when her mama bought her a yard of blue ribbon, that she might not go back to Devon completely empty-handed. The captain had not thought to include Mrs. Milmont and Gabriel in the luncheon treat when he had initially made his offer, but as they were there and he had enough money, he paid up without complaining and even urged Luane, though no one else, to have some fruit after she had already consumed a full meal and two cream buns, and he was positive she couldn’t hold another bite. She fooled him and accepted a nectarine that cost a shilling. He consoled himself that it oftimes took a sprat to catch a mackerel, and the number of bits of rubbish Tuggins had rounded up to take to be pawned would see him through till quarter day.

  As if one singular outing were not enough to enliven the dullest week, which this one was not by a long shot, Claudia had still the dinner at Chanely to look forward to when they got back to Swallowcourt. Her mama, looking very fine with the black lace over her shoulders, the white satin rose tucked into the neck of her gown, and the pearls worn over the whole, came into her room to check her ensemble before leaving.

  Plain. The girl looked decidedly plain. She did her no credit in the eyes of Sir Hillary Thoreau, on whom she was desirous of making a good impression, for he could catapult one to the heights of society if only he could be brought round the thumb. She had her own woman in to see what could be done with the hair, of a natural curl but no particular style. She pulled it back, and it looked better, but there was no passing Claudia off for anything but a young lady in her twenties with such a do, and so it was again pulled down round her cheeks. The loan of her own violet shawl also proved unsuitable as it clashed with the pale blue gown, which was to be gray in the evening light. So Claudia went to dinner looking like an upper-class servant to her mama’s majestic matron. It was some slight consolation that Luane looked very little better. A navy serge suit was what she considered suitable for evening wear. She explained that her “good” dress was pink and she couldn’t wear it because of Sophie’s death.

  The captain, who had come to Swallowcourt in his dashing curricle and pair, had had Sophie’s ancient traveling coach scrubbed up for the trip to Maldon, and this was again the means of conveyance to Chanely, since there were five of them to go. Miss Bliss was invited as well. Whatever the deficiencies of toilette and transportation, there was nothing lacking in the house and feast prepared for them. Candles burned in all corners, dispelling the gloom of a dismal March evening, and the fires in the grates took that nip from the air that sank into the bones at Swallowcourt. Mahogany furniture glowed richly, and the sheen of silver candelabra flickered welcomingly, to be taken up in the mirrors and multiplied.

  “How very charming!” Marcia said to her host in a gushing manner.

  “Thank you,” Sir Hillary replied. “But you have seen Chanely before.”

  “Oh, yes, after the funeral, but that was afternoon. It looks much better at night. There is something so romantic about candlelight.”

  He looked at her elaborate get-up and at Claudia’s near rags, and the familiar sneer settled on his features. “I have often observed elderly ladies prefer candlelight,” he answered and turned to make the others welcome before she had time to recover. They were taken to the Blue Saloon and seated, and Marcia immediately began hinting for a tour of the other parts of the house.

  “I thought you would all like a glass of wine before dinner—after your drive,” Hillary suggested, turning a deaf ear to her hints.

  “We can have a glass of wine any old time, but it is so seldom we get a chance to see Chanely,” Marcia insisted.

  He put his hand on the bell to call for wine, then suddenly reconsidered, and said, “Am I correct in assuming you would like to be shown around, Marcia?”

  “I’m sure we would all enjoy it.”

  “Miss Bliss is familiar with the house, as are Luane and the captain, but perhaps Claudia . . .”

  “She would love to see it,” Marcia answered unhesitatingly, without a single look toward her daughter.

  With the host thus forced to absent himself from the majority of his guests, the party was off to a poor start till Luane decided to join the tour, which brought Jonathon at once to her side.

  “Well, Blissful, you might as well join us,” Hillary said, and she too arose and tagged along with them.

  They were conducted through different rooms—library, portrait gallery, various parlors, armaments room, and music room with a compliment for everything from Mrs. Milmont. Sir Hillary then tried to return his guests to the Blue Saloon for their wine, but pointed questions about the chambers abovestairs revealed to him that he was not to get off with showing only the downstairs. With a resigned bow he led them up the grand staircase. They were shown the green guest suite, the blue guest suite, the gold, and the chambers that had been honored long ago by sleeping Charles II—but still the insatiable viewer was not satisfied.

  “How about the part of the house that is being used?” Marcia asked.

  “My guest suites are in frequent use,” Thoreau told her.

  “What a jokesmith you are, Sir Hillary,” she laughed. “I mean your chambers, of course. I am sure you have taken the very best suite for yourself.”

  “I have taken the master bedroom, certainly. Must you see it too, Marcia?”

  “We would not want to miss the best room,” she said coyly, and with his tongue between his teeth, Hillary led them to his own room. His butler was just clearing away the garments shed by Sir Hillary half an hour before and looked up in surprise to see the party being shown in.

  “Surprise, Blicker,” Hillary said. “Company, and you caught with your chores undone.” The valet bowed wordlessly and left with the shirt and spoiled ties in his hands.

  There was nothing extraordinary in the room after all. It was fine, with a huge four-poster bed hung with gold brocade curtains, the replicas of which hung at a pair of windows. There were the usual pieces of furniture: dresser, clothespress, a few chairs scattered about. Mrs. Milmont complimented him with every adjective at her command and then turned, satisfied at last. Luane, who had never been in this particular room, walked around and stopped in one dark corner.

  “Why have you left my jewels here?” she asked. On a dresser stood the replica case.

  “I didn’t bother taking them to the bank,” Hillary told her. “My vault is not a safe place, as we have reason to know, and I haven’t quite decided what to do with them.”

  “You should not leave them here.”

  “Blicker is never far away.”

  She peered into the glass case, then said suddenly, “I’d like to wear my diamonds.”

  “What, with a serge suit?” Mrs. Milmont took her to task. “Entirely inappropriate, my dear. You should look a quiz. You might wear the little sapphire pendant if you wish to dress up. Why, you and Miss Bliss will be twins, for I see she is wearing hers too.”

  “No, I want to wear my diamonds,” Loo insisted.

  “Said you didn’t like them,” t
he captain reminded her.

  “Never mind, they are mine, and I shall wear them. You are wearing your pearls,” she said to her aunt.

  “And I my emerald,” Claudia augmented. “As you have been robbed—I mean deprived temporarily of your tiara, I am sure Sir Hillary will let you wear your ersatz diamonds.”

  “Why not?” Hillary said. He opened the case with the key he had with him and handed her the diamonds.

  They looked every bit as ludicrous as Mrs. Milmont had prophesied, and the sapphire pendant was replaced in their stead.

  “You wear my diamonds, cousin,” Loo said, “I’d like to see them on someone.”

  “No, thank you. They would clash with my emerald ring.”

  “Try them on, my dear,” her mother urged. “Let us see how they will—would look.”

  Claudia put them on and wrinkled her nose in the mirror. “Gaudy!” she declared and reached around to undo the clasp.

  “No, they look nice on you, don’t they, Gabriel?” Loo asked. “An older woman can wear them.”

  Gabriel looked unconvinced, and Mrs. Milmont took up the cudgels in her little girl’s defense.

  The captain wore a considering look on his face. “Give you a bit of dash,” he decreed.

  “Come on, let’s have our wine,” Loo said and turned to leave, so Hillary locked the case, and everyone trooped from the room, Claudia weighted down with the unwanted necklace.

  “Would you care to go upstairs and see the cheese room and attics?” Hillary asked Marcia in a perfectly civil tone, only slightly marred by a half-sneer.

  She detected an edge of irony and declined with yet more compliments on what she had viewed already. They were finally allowed to have a glass of wine, and within minutes dinner was called. Mrs. Milmont had at last the glory of not only being at Sir Hillary’s table, but seated in the place of honor on her host’s right side. She had also the honor, as the meal progressed. of being called first ‘Marcia’, then ‘darling’ as she became ever more officious.