Replacement Baby

by Mary Ann Smart

  Is Mother really a jewel thief? Will I find her with a room full of jewels? What exactly does a real jewel thief do with the stuff they steal, anyway? Rose wondered. The more that she thought about it, the more than it seemed like some sort of a sort of fantasy. Jewel thieves? Really? The more that Rose thought about the whole situation, the more strange it all seemed. It seemed too fantastical to even be true. Maybe this is stupid. This could be dangerous. They probably have knives and guns. Maybe we shouldn’t go. Maybe we should just leave it to the police.

  “Well, I’d say it’s dark enough,” Lionel commented, glancing over at her, interrupting her thoughts. Rose could see his face in the pale lamplight.

  “I guess so,” she said with hesitation. Her heart was pounding and her face was flushed.

  Do I really want to do this? Rose thought frantically. What if these people tried to kill me? Should I risk my life?

  “Come on,” said Lionel. “If you are sure.”

  “Do you think we are stupid for doing this?” Rose asked him before exiting the car.

  “Probably,” Lionel replied. “I guess we are going to do something completely stupid and careless.”

  “But maybe we will always regret it if we don’t,” Rose reasoned.

  “Famous last words,” Lionel replied with a grin.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Lionel and Rose crept toward the tall blue house in the shadows, avoiding the beams of light from the street lamps. They whispered back and forth as they dashed toward the house. When they reached it, they ducked down behind the black iron fence and hedges, which were in front of the house. They could tell that many lights were on, but thick curtains were drawn over all the windows.

  “Why don’t we go to the back of the house?” Rose suggested in a whisper.

  Lionel nodded. They walked through the next door neighbor’s side yard to reach the back, because the iron fence went entirely around the blue house. They found a short stone wall by an herb garden in the dim moonlight. Rose could smell the fragrant parsley, thyme, peppermint, and rosemary as they walked beside the small, square garden. She and Lionel both hopped on the wall and gripped the spikes on top of the iron fence.

  “Should we hop over it?” Rose asked with hesitation.

  “I don’t see why not,” Lionel responded.

  “Are you sure this is safe?” Rose questioned.

  “Look, Rose,” Lionel whispered to her. “If we are going to do this, let’s do this.”

  “You’re right,” Rose muttered. “I just don’t want to get impaled by a fence.”

  “We’ll be careful, Rose,” Lionel reassured her. “Haven’t you ever hopped over a fence before?”

  “Not that I can recall,” Rose confessed. “I lived a very sheltered life.”

  Suddenly they heard the loud, monstrous bark of a dog. Rose’s heart dropped, expecting to see the dog charging at them from the blue house. Lionel grabbed her hand. But after several seconds, Rose realized with relief that the dog was in the yard of the neighbors behind the blue house.

  Rose and Lionel waited for a few minutes for the barking to cease. Pressing their bodies up against the iron fence and staying in the shadows, they waited with their chests heaving from the frightening sound of the dog. The barking became less and less frequent and finally after about five minutes, it stopped completely.

  Walking by the other side of the garden, Rose found a narrow gate. It seemed to be almost rusted shut, but Rose and Lionel were able to push on it so that it opened a little. The opening was just large enough for them to slide through.

  Bravely, Rose and Lionel crawled toward the house. The reached a door that seemed to go into the cellar. It was an old wooden door, and it seemed to be rotted out at the bottom. They pulled on it and it slowly opened. Thankfully, instead of creaking, the rough bottom scraped against the small cement slab underneath.

  Inside, they entered the dark and musty cellar. There was a lone window, which let in a faint bit on moonlight. Lionel pulled out a match from his pocket.

  Behind them, they heard movement. Then an object fall to the floor with a small crash. Rose and Lionel froze and did not move for several seconds.

  Then they heard a meow sound and realized that there was a cat in the cellar. Once again, they sighed a breath of relief. The cat seemed to be minding her own business.

  “Are you sure we should do this?” Rose asked with caution. “I don’t know if I have the same courage I had earlier,” she confessed.

  “You can do it,” Lionel said. “If you want to, that is. If you want to turn back now, we’ll turn back. Logically, turning back is the safe thing to do. But if you are in, I’m in. This is our adventure. If we stay, you need to do this for you.”

  “Yes, you’re right,” Rose admitted, though part of her wished to turn back, go home, and get into her soft, safe bed.

  Lionel lit a match. They saw up ahead a narrow, wooden stairway. They followed it up, careful to make as few creaking noises as possible.

  When they reached a door, they peeked through the large keyhole. The room was dimly lit, but they could see that it was a kitchen. It was empty, so they slowly opened the door and entered. Thankfully, the door into the kitchen did not creak at all.

  The kitchen had a black and white checkered floor and white and grey marble countertops. They silently investigated the room and soon found a back stairway behind a door. It was a spiral staircase. It was probably built a century ago for the servants, Lionel explained in a soft whisper. They entered into the stairwell and shut the door behind them. There was a window somewhere near the top, which was letting in a faint light. Together, they climbed the staircase.

  Inside the closed area of this stairway, Rose felt a little safer and less nervous than she had been out in the more open kitchen area. After climbing up four flights of stairs, they reached another door. They peeked through the keyhole and saw a long, narrow hallway. It was lit with a few wall sconces.

  They opened the door, and again, to their relief, it made no sounds. They crept down the hallway, which was lined with simple doors on both sides. Rose’s heart began to pound as she imagined one of those doors opening at any moment and a person stepping out, discovering them.

  Curious, Lionel peeked into one of the rooms. Inside the room was a simple white iron bed, a cherry dresser, a wardrobe, and a rag rug. He peeked into two more and they were almost identical.

  “It looks like these are the old servant’s quarters,” Lionel whispered to her. “Let’s move on.”

  At the end of the hallway was a door. Again, they peeked through the keyhole. This time they saw a larger, and more elegant looking staircase going down. The staircase had walls on either side, so Lionel suggested that they venture downstairs.

  They quietly plodded across the carpet on the new staircase. Then they reached a landing with another hallway. Sensing that this was a more frequently used floor, they ducked into a room that was behind a closed door.

  Inside the room was a fireplace, an elegant looking leather sofa, a wooden side table, and a small desk and chair. A few paintings of pastoral scenes in gilded frames hung on the wall. A thick green carpet was on the floor. The only light came from a single desk lamp, which had been left on.

  What was curious about the room, however, was that all over the sofa, the side table, and on the desk, as well as on the floor, were various sizes of black boxes. They were stacked in a neat way.

  “Oh,” Rose cried, in a voice too loud. “Wow, oh my. You aren’t going to believe this. I remember these boxes.”

  “What?” Lionel asked curiously.

  “When I was a little girl, after those men would visit Mother, there would be boxes like these in our house,” Rose whispered. “She usually kept them in her study. Once I asked her if they were presents. She snapped at me and told me that no, they were not presents. Then she told me that these boxes were for grown ups only, and that if I ever touched one I would be very, very sorry.”

 
“So what do you think is in them?” Lionel asked.

  “No clue,” Rose replied.

  “Are you ready to finally found out?” He whispered to her, a mischievous grin filling his face.

  Rose nodded, eager to discover the contents of the boxes. She bent down and picked up a box on top of a large stack that was on the floor. The box was not heavy as she held it in her hand. She plopped down on the edge of the sofa and set the box on her lap. As her heart began pounding, Rose slowly pulled off the lid.

  Rose gasped when she discovered what was inside. A gold necklace with large round diamonds all around it was resting inside the box. The jewels caught the light of even the small desk lamp and they shimmered.

  Lionel opened another box, and this time he found an emerald bracelet. They opened several more boxes, each time finding a new piece of jewelry. Rose began to have fun, opening each box and finding what new surprise jewels were inside.

  “I’m not jewelry expert,” Lionel whispered. “But my mom and grandmother have some nice pieces of jewelry, which are family heirlooms. And from what I know, these are some very, very expensive pieces of jewelry.”

  “What do you think we should do?” Rose asked in a soft tone. “I think we should probably go to the police right away. That’s probably better than me facing my fears here. I think maybe we should go now. This place is kind of giving me the creeps. What if they find us here?”

  “I think you’re right,” Lionel replied in a whisper. “Should we go back the way we came?”

  Rose nodded. Her heart was beginning to pound again. What if someone heard them? What if these people were truly dangerous? Rose tried to force herself not to think about these things.

  Lionel peeked out the keyhole of the door and, seeing nothing, stepped outside. Rose walked behind him, clinging to his arm. She was suddenly overcome with fear and clung to Lionel’s arm more tightly. This tall, dark house seemed to ominous, with its dim, empty halls and rooms.

  They walked back up the stairs with small, quiet footsteps. Rose began shaking. In her chest, she could feel her heart racing. It pounded in her head and she began to get dizzy. Noticing that she was upset, Lionel opened one of the doors to the servant’s bedroom and led her to sit down on a lone chair.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked her in a whisper.

  “I don’t know,” replied Rose. She began shaking her head. “I just feel like we are in danger.”

  “You’re just worrying,” Lionel reassured her. “We’ll be fine.”

  Rose nodded, but she was still scared. Lionel put his arm around her and gave her shoulders a squeeze. Rose looked up at him in the moonlight from the window and forced a smile.

  “Here,” Lionel finally said. “I’ve got an idea. I’ll go back down the back staircase and check in the kitchen to make sure the coast is clear. Then if it is, I’ll come back and get you and we’ll leave. How does that sound?”

  “That’s a good idea,” Rose admitted.

  “Good,” said Lionel, reaching for the doorknob to leave. “Now wait here. I’ll be right back.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Once Lionel left, Rose was overwhelmed with a sense of loneliness. She became more afraid as the minutes dragged by. She waited in the dark room, thinking of horrible scenarios. Lionel had been gone for a couple minutes when Rose heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall. He really should walk more softly, Rose thought to herself.

  Relieved that Lionel was back, Rose jumped up from her chair and opened the door to the hallway. She left the room and nearly collided with a tall, overweight older man. He nearly toppled over.

  “What’s this?” he barked at her. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

  “I-I-I,” Rose stammered, in complete shock. Her body was frozen with crippling fear.

  Shaking her head, Rose took two slow steps back. Then she turned to run, but a hand grabbed her forearm, gripping it tightly. Rose yanked her arm with all of her strength, but the hand that held it was too strong.

  The man dragged her down the hall, pulling her by the arm. Rose leaned back with all of her weight and wriggled to get away. The man kept his gaze forward, ignoring her, and gripped her arm more tightly.

  I can’t scream, she thought dizzily. Screaming will draw attention to me from anyone downstairs. Lionel may hear me, but the people in this house would get to me first. I have to get away. I have to get out of here!

  She could see the stairway up ahead, only a few steps ahead. Frantic, she threw her body to the floor, swung her right leg in front of the man’s feet, and swiped into his legs. Falling forward, he toppled forward with a yelp, taking Rose with him.

  Rose’s body was dragged across the floor until it was beside the man, who lay flat on his face. Seizing the opportunity, Rose gave her arm one final yank. Her arm was freed and she jumped to her feet and ran down the hall toward the narrow servant’s stairway, which was where Lionel was.

  Behind her, Rose heard the man plodding down the hall after her. Not wanting to lead the man to Lionel, Rose opened a door to the right and went inside. She quickly shut the door behind her and locked it. Looking around the dim, moonlit room at lightning speed, Rose spotted a small desk. She grabbed the edge of the desk and dragged it across the carpet and against the door. On the other side of the door, she could hear the man struggle with the doorknob.

  Breathing heavily, Rose leaned against the desk and looked for a lamp. She found one on a bedside table and reached to turn it on. The room was almost identical to the one she had been in before. Seeing the window as her only exit, Rose ran to it. She pulled back the heavy blue curtains, only to find four floors to the ground and nothing else. There was no ledge and no tree. Shaking her head, Rose backed up and went over to the desk again. Now there was nothing but quiet on the other side of the door. The man had stopped pounding on the door and jiggling the doorknob.

  Rose’s heart was still pounding. What do I do? Should I peek out? Should I run out and hide in another room to throw him off? What if he didn’t leave? What if he’s quietly waiting? Rose chewed on her bottom lip nervously. Why did I do this? Why did I stupidly decide to sneak into a strange house all because I was angry? She rubbed her sore arm, which she was certain was bruised from the tight grip of her captor. The leg that she had used to trip the man also was aching. A sharp pain shot up it. Where is Lionel? She wondered anxiously.

  After about five minutes of waiting in silence, Rose feverishly decided to take a chance and run down the hall to another room. She moved the desk. Then she took several deep breaths and placed her hand on the doorknob. Cautious, she unlocked the door. She peeked out and found the hall empty. Then she shut the door softly and ran across the hall to another closed door. This one was locked, so she went to another one. It opened and she went inside. Shutting the door, she reached for the lock.

  Rose’s heart dropped. This door had no lock. Should I risk going back out there? She wondered. Deciding against it, she noticed the silhouette of a dresser in the moonlight, which was streaming in from a window. She reached to move the dresser, but then heard a footstep outside the door. Desperate, Rose opened the door of a large wardrobe and stepped in, shutting the door behind her. She hid behind several thick coats.

  For the next couple minutes, Rose there were voices in the hallway. Then she heard doors opening and slamming shut. She took a deep breath in an attempt to calm her pounding heart.

  Rose heard the doorknob on the door into the room she was in turn. Then she could hear the door swing open. Two sets of footsteps walked across the floor.

  Please, dear God, don’t let them find me, she prayed. Please make them turn around. Please don’t let them open these doors.

  Suddenly, both doors to the wardrobe swung open. In the moonlight and through the coats, she could see two men. The man who had grabbed her before was there, along with a tall, slender man in a suit with dark, slicked back hair. The large man who had captured her earlier pulled the coats apart. Seeing her,
he grabbed her with both hands, while the other man put some sort of cloth over head.

  Struggling, Rose finally let out a scream. She kicked and tried to scratch, which only made her captors curse in loud voices and grip her more tightly. She continued to struggle as they seemed to drag her down the stairs.

  Then Rose heard a door open and she felt as if she were being dragged into a room. Her body was thrown down hard onto the floor. She tumbled and her sleeve ripped. She let out an agonizing howl of pain. Everything ached, from her head to her arms to her legs.

  The cloth was removed from her head and the man in the suit towered over her as she lay on the floor. His face was as cold as steel, and Rose shivered. She struggled to move, but her body ached from the sharp pain in her arm.

  “Who are you?” the man shouted at her. He had a thick French accent. “What are you doing in my house?”

  “I-I’m sorry,” she mumbled, holding back tears and rubbing her sore arm. “I am in the wrong house. I meant to go next door,” she lied.

  “Lies!” he shouted. “Filthy lies! You’ve come to rob me!”

  Another man in a suit entered, and approached the French man. “Ah, so you have a burglar?” The other man said.

  It was Rodney! The other man was Rodney. Rose gasped.

  Suddenly, Rodney let out a massive laugh. He laughed so hard that he leaned over, his hands resting on his knees. His body was shaking with laughter as Rose stared at him in utter shock.

  “What the devil is so funny?” the French man asked. “Shut up! Shut up, you stupid idiot!”

  “It’s her!” Rodney laughed. “It’s Lisa! It’s Porter’s fake daughter!”

  “What?” The French man said.

  “You heard me, Fontaine!” Rodney said, still laughing. “We’ve been following her all over London, and here she is, in your own house!”