Valley of the Ravens

by Nancy Buckingham

  “Sarah,” she began diffidently, “is it really true what Nadine says about you and Mr. Smallbridge?”

  “What does Nadine say?” I countered.

  “She says—she says it’s quite evident that you return his interest. She says she is never wrong about such things. And Aunt Thirza agrees with her.” Ginny looked at me wistfully. “I never expected you would be going away again so soon, Sarah.”

  “I am not going away, Ginny. Mr. Smallbridge means nothing to me—indeed, I do not like him very much. I certainly have no intention of marrying him.”

  Ginny regarded me uncertainly.

  “It’s the truth, I promise you. Anyway, how could I leave Farracombe now that I am to become your tutor? I am looking forward to that. Aren’t you?”

  “Yes, Sarah.” But there was a note of doubt in her voice.

  “You and I will be able to learn from each other,” I went on cheerfully. “I am quite sure there are some things you know more about than I do, Ginny. I always found algebra terribly difficult. And embroidery—I have never in my life done anything as beautiful as the smoking cap you worked for your father, for instance, and—”

  I stopped abruptly, realizing I had said the wrong thing. Ginny had begun to show slight interest, but now her face crumpled.

  “Papa never wears the smoking cap,” she said in a small, tight whisper. “I don’t believe he has once put it on.”

  “Oh well—gentlemen are like that, I’m afraid, Ginny. They stick to their old habits and never try anything new. I remember my papa wore the same top hat for ages, until I told him I was ashamed to be seen out with him.”

  Hoping to send her to bed in a happier mood, I chatted for a few minutes about other matters. But inwardly I still fumed at Uncle Joshua’s cruelty to poor Ginny. When she left me, I decided on a sudden impulse to go along to his room and let him hear my views.

  “Come in!” he called irritably, in answer to my knock. “Oh, it’s you, Sarah. Well, you can’t talk to me now, I am just about to retire. Rudd is preparing my bed for me.”

  “This will only take a moment,” I insisted.

  “Well, what is it?”

  “I have just been talking to Ginny. Do you realize how deeply you have upset the poor child by seeming to spurn her birthday present?”

  He said nothing, but glowered at me angrily, his gentian-blue eyes smoldering. I confess I felt a little intimidated.

  “If you would just put the cap on from time to time,” I begged, “it would please Ginny out of all proportion. Don’t you understand, Uncle, how desperately she longs for your affection? She is ready to love you so very much, if only you would be a little kinder to her.”

  “How dare you,” he stormed. “What right has a chit of a girl like you to come bursting in here, trying to tell me how I should behave to my own daughter? I’ll thank you to look to your own affairs, Sarah, and leave me to deal with mine.”

  Yet, for all his apparent rage, he could not conceal the faint smile I had seen before. Uncle Joshua was actually relishing this encounter.

  “I cannot bear to see poor little Ginny made so unhappy,” I rushed on recklessly. “I think it is downright wicked to treat your daughter as you do. One day— one day you will be made to pay for it.”

  I scarcely knew what I meant by that. I suppose I wanted to hurt him, as he had hurt Ginny. But his malicious smile only deepened.

  “Clear out, girl,” he snapped, “and allow me to get to my bed.”

  For a moment I stood my ground, staring at him furiously. But I realized there was nothing I could do or say to move his stony heart. As I returned to my room I was already regretting my outburst. I had done no good, and might even have made things worse. Moreover, I asked myself uncomfortably, had my anger been solely on Ginny’s behalf? Or had I perhaps seized upon this chance for a display of righteous indignation because of Uncle Joshua’s attitude toward me and my family?

  I went to bed and slept fitfully, waking to a lead-gray morning that was oppressive with low cloud. The air felt humid and breathless.

  While Thirza, Ginny and I were at breakfast together, Jerome entered the room. Since he was normally in the estate office by this hour, we all looked up at him in surprise. His face was grave, and I noted that the furrows on his cheeks seemed to be etched more deeply.

  For an instant his eyes met mine before he looked quickly away.

  “I’m afraid something very unpleasant has happened,” he said. “During the night the display cabinet in Father’s room was broken into. The Edinburgh Porringer is missing.”

  * * *

  Chapter 7

  The Edinburgh Porringer was the most valuable piece in Uncle Joshua’s collection of antique silverware. It was known that he prized it above all else. Since no evidence could be found of any forcible entry, the inevitable conclusion was that the theft had been committed by someone in the household. A feeling of mistrust and suspicion infected everyone, and the servants went about their tasks in a very subdued mood.

  In a vain attempt at normality we gathered as usual in Nadine’s room before luncheon, but there could only be one topic of conversation.

  “My father-in-law is most anxious to avoid any unpleasant scandal getting around the neighborhood,” Nadine told us. “The servants have all been warned not to gossip about this unfortunate affair.”

  “Such a ridiculous hullabaloo!” Oscar exclaimed derisively. “The wretched thing is only worth a few hundred at most, and the old boy can easily afford the loss.”

  “Oscar,” his sister rebuked him. “Please be silent.”

  He shrugged carelessly and glanced at me. In his eyes I saw a gleam of amusement—and a sudden, jarring shock ran through my body. Oscar believed that I was responsible for the theft.

  Oscar’s opinion was of little importance to me. But was this, I wondered in dismay, what everyone else believed, too? I looked in turn at Nadine and Thirza, and both of them glanced away. Bleakly, I recalled that when Jerome had broken the news to us this morning, he, too, had avoided my eyes.

  “You suspect me, don’t you?” I cried impetuously, without pausing to consider. “You think that because I am Felicity’s sister, it must be I who stole the porringer?”

  Too late, I realized that I should not have said it in front of Ginny. I heard her sharp catch of breath and saw the look of shocked bewilderment on her pale face.

  “Don’t be dramatic, Sarah,” said Nadine sternly. “Why should you be suspected more than anyone else? But it is an unfortunate fact that someone in the house must have taken the porringer. Let us hope the thief is quickly discovered, so we can all rest easily once more.”

  The day continued sultry, but the threatened rain held off. After luncheon I decided to go riding as usual, feeling a desperate need to get away from the unpleasant atmosphere for a little while. Ginny was nowhere around, and I eventually found her closeted in her own room, gloomily staring out of the window.

  “Shall we get changed for our ride?” I asked.

  “No, thank you, Sarah,” she answered in a stiffly polite voice. “I don’t feel like riding today.”

  “Are you sure, Ginny? This is just the sort of weather to get a good blow in the fresh air.”

  She shook her head and stared down at the floor, and I realized unhappily that even my relationship with Ginny was being affected by the theft. I felt bitterly hurt, and wished to heaven that I had held my tongue in Nadine’s room. But I could not unsay those impetuous words. I would have to wait until the truth emerged, until the thief was discovered.

  I returned to my own room, and took my riding habit from the big mahogany wardrobe. Glancing out of the window I noted that the clouds seemed to have drawn closer, and the light was very poor, but having told Ginny that I was going to ride, I felt determined to go. I changed hurriedly, fumbling with the buttons, and snatched up my riding crop from where I’d laid it on the bed. In my haste, it slipped from my hand and went slithering under the bow-fronted chest of dra
wers.

  Muttering with annoyance, I stooped to retrieve it. I found the crop at once, but I paused there, my eye caught by something shiny farther back under the chest. Puzzled, I tried to rake it out with my crop, but the object was more solid than I’d supposed. Eventually, I had to crouch down and reach under with my arm. The instant my fingers touched the cool, chased-metal surface I knew what it was. The missing porringer.

  For a fleeting second I actually felt a sense of elation that the mystery was solved. Then horrified understanding came down on me. My heart thudded painfully as I drew the antique vessel from its hiding place. There could be only one explanation—the porringer had been hidden in my room quite deliberately, in the certain knowledge that it would be discovered by a housemaid when the carpet was next given a thorough brushing.

  It was a devious plot to label me as a thief. A fit of trembling took hold of me. I knew without any possibility of doubt that someone in this house was my enemy. Someone wanted me driven from Farracombe in disgrace. With shaking hands, I placed the porringer on top of the chest of drawers and stared at it in dismay. Who could hate me so much?

  I must have lingered there for a long time, while the light in the room grew more somber. Then a sudden gust of wind spattering raindrops against the windowpanes brought me out of my trance, and I knew there was an urgent need to act. Hastily I wrapped the porringer in a silken scarf and, carrying it with the greatest care, I left my room and hurried down the staircase, tugging the bellrope in the hall to summon Metherell.

  “Where is Mr. Jerome?” I asked him. “I have to speak to him immediately. Will he be in the office?”

  “I will inquire, miss,” he said gravely. He departed, to return almost at once. “Rudd informs me, Miss Sarah, that Mr. Jerome is at present with his father.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  I was about to return to my own room to wait until I could talk to my second-cousin privately, but it struck me that a better plan might be to confront Jerome and his father together. Because one thought above all others clamored in my mind—Uncle Joshua had never wanted me to come back to Farracombe. He had made that very clear.

  I became dizzy from excitement, from dread, as my thoughts raced forward on a grimly logical trail. Was it Uncle Joshua—or the obedient Rudd acting on his master’s orders—who had planted the porringer in my room? It made terrifying sense. Furthermore, this might not be the first time he had acted in this wickedly calculating manner. Suppose that Uncle Joshua, when he learned that Felicity was missing and believed to have run away with Ned Tassell, had himself removed the precious pearly necklet from the casket, and then placed the key in my sister’s bedroom? How convenient for him, too, that it should have been Mama who had found the key. With such damaging evidence against Felicity it would have been impossible for my father to stay on at Farracombe and continue the mining project.

  By now I was virtually convinced that I had struck the truth. I walked boldly to Uncle Joshua’s door and, drawing myself up to my full height, I rapped sharply.

  “Come in!”

  Just as last night, when he saw who it was he waved me away irritably. “Jerome and I are busy!”

  “This cannot wait,” I told him. “You see, I have found the missing porringer.”

  I saw their startled surprise. Then in three swift strides Jerome crossed the room to me.

  “Is that what you have there, Sarah?”

  I nodded, drawing back the folds of silk to reveal the silver bowl.

  “I came across it quite by chance,” I explained. “It was hidden in my room, pushed back under the chest of drawers. In the normal course of events it would have been found by one of the maids next time the carpet was brushed—possibly not for several days. That is precisely what someone intended should happen, so that I would get the blame for stealing the porringer.”

  Although I was watching Uncle Joshua intently as I spoke, his expression gave nothing away. With a faint sneer on his lips, he asked, “And how exactly did you come to find it, Sarah? What were you doing groveling on the floor?”

  “I dropped my riding crop, and it slid under the chest. I was bending to reach it when I saw something bright...” I faltered to a stop, seeing the puzzlement on their faces. “I—I was about to go riding, you see,” I added,

  “So you were about to go riding, were you, Sarah?” said Uncle Joshua sarcastically, tugging at his white beard. “I must confess I find it very peculiar that you should enjoy being out on horseback in such weather as this.” He gestured toward the window with the stem of his pipe, and I saw to my discomfort that it was now raining heavily—a steady, drenching downpour.

  “I—I didn’t realize it was going to rain when I was changing,” I murmured feebly.

  He tutted with impatience, holding out his hand. “Give the porringer to me, and let me see if you have done any damage. It is too valuable a piece to play the fool with, Sarah!”

  “But I haven’t—”

  “I suppose,” he continued, ignoring my protest, “that you became frightened when you realized the enormity of what you had done. You decided to give the porringer back, and so you put on your riding habit to lend weight to this ridiculous story of yours.”

  “Father, it is monstrous to suggest that Sarah is a thief,” Jerome objected.

  “I am glad to have someone on my side,” I said bitterly.

  “There is no question of taking sides, Sarah. This matter concerns us all, and for my part I’m only too glad that Father’s porringer has been found, so that we can put it out of our minds.”

  “Yes, yes! Let no more be said about this wretched affair,” Uncle Joshua agreed surprisingly.

  “Does that mean you withdraw what you just said about me?” I challenged him.

  Jerome laid his hand upon my shoulder, murmuring, “Please, Sarah—please leave it. No good can come from pressing my father at the moment.”

  I hesitated an instant, then gave way. “Very well, Jerome. But the matter cannot be dismissed as easily as that. You must see it can’t.”

  He sighed. “Should you really wish to talk about it, then we will do so later on. But if you take my advice, Sarah, you’ll allow the whole unfortunate episode to be forgotten here and now.”

  With a curt nod to each of them, I withdrew in what I hoped was a dignified manner, but I felt utterly dispirited as I went back to my own room. What had I achieved? I wondered miserably. I should have kept to my original intention and waited to see Jerome alone. Then the outcome might have been different.

  Outside my window the rain continued to lash down. Presently, I changed out of my riding habit and, feeling in a restless mood, I went downstairs again in search of company. In the end I ran Ginny to earth in the orangery. She was sitting reading in a basket chair, with her legs tucked beneath her. She glanced up as I entered, then returned at once to her book.

  Smarting under her snub, I began, “There’s good news, Ginny. Your father’s porringer has been found. Everything is all right again.”

  My words failed to have the effect I’d anticipated. Ginny heard me without any sign of interest, and I perceived that her cool manner toward me did not stem solely from the missing porringer.

  “What is it, Ginny?” I asked, taking a chair beside her. “What is the matter?”

  I saw her lips tremble and a tear escaped, glinting as it trickled down her cheek.

  “Why did you lie to me, Sarah?”

  “Lie to you? But I have never lied to you, dearest.”

  “Yes, you have! You said you weren’t going to marry Mr. Smallbridge and go away from Farracombe.”

  “Nor shall I. You must take my word for it, Ginny.”

  “But everyone says you will.”

  “Whom do you mean, exactly?”

  “Everyone. Even Mr. Smallbridge himself.”

  “Mr. Smallbridge told you that I was going to marry him?” I was incredulous.

  She nodded. “I asked him straight out this morning, because Nadine ke
eps talking about it, and Mr. Smallbridge said—he said he had high hopes, and that you’d given him every reason to believe you would accept him.” She looked at me timidly from under her long lashes. “I think he is in love with you, Sarah.”

  “Stuff and nonsense,” I said dismissively. “I must put an end to these silly rumors once and for all.”

  “I asked Jerome, too.”

  “You asked Jerome?” I gasped. “What—what did he have to say?”

  “He looked very stern—angry, almost. He told me he understood from Nadine it was what you wanted, and that you were free to do as you pleased— “ Ginny broke off. “Are you feeling unwell, Sarah? You’ve turned so pale.”

  “I’m all right.” But inwardly I was trembling with fury. “I shall go and see Nadine at once, and insist that she put a stop to this ridiculous story.” I might have added that if Nadine had not encouraged Horace Smallbridge in the first place, I felt sure he would never have thought of me in such a light.

  I went straightway to Nadine’s room, where the lamps were already lit against the gloominess of the afternoon. Thirza was there, too, and my entry startled her out of a doze. Nadine herself was doing her embroidery, a cascade of colored silks spread over her lap.

  She looked up at me with a welcoming smile.

  “Sarah, I am so glad you have dropped in. I have some splendid news for you—the porringer has turned up safely. Jerome came to tell us just a few minutes ago. So all is well again. I know you will be relieved.”

  I stared at Nadine in astonishment. “But I was the one who found it. Didn’t Jerome say?”

  “You, Sarah? No, he said nothing about that.”

  “I discovered it hidden in my bedroom, shortly after luncheon. I immediately took it to show Jerome and Uncle Joshua.”

  “In your room? How very odd!”

  “Yes, it was pushed back under the chest of drawers. Surely Jerome must have explained?”

  “I assure you he didn’t.” Nadine glanced at Thirza.

  “Did not Jerome lead us to suppose that his father had merely mislaid the porringer, and that it had not in fact been stolen at all?”