Newt's Emerald

by Garth Nix

  Lady Badgery applauded as the sketch slowly faded back to a charcoal drawing.

  “How much?” she asked. “Pirate and Diana, ready by Tuesday evening.”

  “Four hundred guineas,” said Signor Fraticelli, without a moment’s hesitation.

  “Done,” said Lady Badgery. “Thank you, signor. You may go.”

  “At once, Lady Badgery,” declared Signor Fraticelli, with a deep bow that almost brought his forehead into violent conflict with the edge of the table. “I must immediately begin my creation!”

  He collected his sketches and his box of drawing implements, threw a violently yellow cloak over his shoulders and stalked from the room, narrowly avoiding a collision with Mary, who was bringing in Truthful’s boiled eggs.

  “He’s actually Dutch you know,” said Lady Badgery. “Name of Kloppers. Known him for years. Nevertheless, a great artist in his chosen field.”

  “But why pretend to be Italian?” asked Truthful.

  “People expect it, and pay more,” said Lady Badgery. “There is a lesson there, Truthful. People adopt other personas for many different reasons, and there are more about than you might think.”

  “I’m sure,” said Truthful, tapping her egg with a spoon in a desultory fashion that made no impact upon the shell.

  “Do you regret your own masquerade as the chevalier?” asked Lady Badgery bluntly. “Though the Emerald has not yet been retrieved, it does seem likely that your efforts have seen to it that it will be, and the vile Plathenden will be brought to justice.”

  Truthful put down her spoon.

  “I don’t regret it,” she said slowly. “I did what needed to be done. I even enjoyed some of it. But there are . . . aspects I would wish have turned out otherwise. I fear . . . I fear great-aunt, that I allowed myself to become too attached to Major Harnett.”

  “A handsome young man of considerable address, an adventure together, you barely out of the schoolroom,” said Lady Badgery. “It is not to be surprised at, no, not at all.”

  “He made me an offer,” said Truthful, addressing her egg rather than her great-aunt. “Because he said he had compromised me. But I asked him if he really wanted to marry me and he said no, he didn’t want to marry anyone, and then last night I discover he is already betrothed and has been for some time.”

  “I see,” said Lady Badgery, frowning. “I wasn’t aware he had made you an offer and in such unfortunate terms! However, people do not always say what they really mean, and things are not always as they seem. In the case of Major Harnett—”

  “Let us not speak of him,” interrupted Truthful forcefully. “I know I have been foolish. I shall not think of him, or of any man! When the Emerald has been regained I will return to Newington Hall and stay there!”

  “Hmph,” said Lady Badgery, but even this monosyllabic expression was not without compassion. “Well, as you wish, Truthful. Shall we stay home this afternoon, or venture out?”

  “Home,” said Truthful. She took up her spoon again and fairly shattered the top of her egg. “Please let us stay home and be quiet.”

  “Very well,” said Lady Badgery. “I will instruct Dworkin to deny us to all callers.”

  ++++

  This instruction kept Dworkin busy, for there were very many callers, most of them gentlemen wishing to visit Truthful. However, one caller would not be denied, and made such a fuss of insisting upon entry that Lady Badgery herself came down to see what the commotion was about. Discovering it to be Mister Stephen Newington-Lacy, she allowed him to be an exception and sent him on his way upstairs to see Truthful, who was reading The Ladies Monthly Museum in her own small parlour.

  She shrieked as Stephen entered without knocking, dropped her magazine, and rushed to embrace him.

  “Stephen!”

  “Now, now, no need to carry on,” said the young man in disgusted tones, fending her off. “Anyone would think I was come back from the Indies with a leg missing.”

  “You were kidnapped,” said Truthful.

  “Oh, not for above five minutes,” said Stephen. He laughed, his eyes sparkling. “But they were such slow-tops! Imagine not gagging me, so I could talk to the horses! They were happy enough to mount the gutter and overturn us, and then Charles’s men were there and two watchmen came up, and before you know it, the boot was on the other foot! Though I am loathe to admit that one of them did escape. Not the one I held, I assure you.”

  “And then you simply joined in the search for Lady Plathenden, I collect?” asked Truthful, remembering the short and infuriating message from Harnett to that effect.

  “Lord yes! I had the notion that a hound given the scent of a shoe the escaped rascal had shed in his flight might lead us to their lair. When I mentioned this, Charles asked me to assist in the matter, him not being as conversant with dogs and of course, having no hounds to hand in the city. But I found a ratter name of Toby, with a nose like anything, and he did lead us to a kind of workman’s shelter by the new canal tunnel under Maida Hill. Charles was most pleased. The occupants had fled but there was considerable evidence of their habitation and we hope clues as to other hideaways where Lady Plathenden might be found.”

  “You seem to have made great friends with Major Harnett,” said Truthful easily, far more easily than she actually felt.

  “Oh, Charles is a great gun,” said Stephen, evidently having totally forgotten his first meeting with Major Harnett. “He suggested I stop in here before I go back to get the others, to let you know what is happening and to tell you that he has gone out of town. Following up what we discovered you know.”

  “What do you mean ‘to get the others’?” asked Truthful.

  “Oh, Charles says he has not enough men and needs volunteers,” said Stephen breezily. “I’m sure Edmund and Robert will jump at the chance. We’ll be back tomorrow, I daresay, and we will be sure to call upon you, Newt.”

  “I am glad not to be forgotten amidst all your excitement,” said Truthful tartly. “And where has Major Harnett’s search taken him?”

  “Brighton,” said Stephen. He paused as Truthful gave a visible shiver. “Are you coming down with something?”

  “No, no,” said Truthful. “Go on.”

  “The rogues in the canal-house had several barrels from an inn there, the Black Lion, and Charles said he had seen another larger barrel somewhere else that was also connected with the matter.”

  “Oh,” said Truthful, suddenly recalling the poker-work symbol on the barrel she had been imprisoned in. That could be a lion, squinted at in the right way. “I go to Brighton myself, on Wednesday. Perhaps I will be able to assist—”

  “Best leave it to Charles,” said Stephen. “He knows what he’s about.”

  “Does he?” retorted Truthful angrily. “Do you know where he’d be without my help?”

  “No, I don’t,” said Stephen. “What do you mean?”

  Truthful almost told him, but then that would mean a great many other explanations. Finally she shook her head and sighed. “Nothing, I suppose. But am I to understand from all this hustling about that Lady Plathenden is still not arrested?”

  “Not yet,” said Stephen, fixing her with his keen green eyes. “But is that all that disturbs you, Truthful?”

  “No,” said Truthful honestly. “But it isn’t something you can help with, Stephen.”

  “I do like Charles you know,” said Stephen, unerringly and painfully striking at the point of Truthful’s concerns. “I am sure Edmund and Robert will like him too. I mean he’s not a duke, as we expected, but—”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” interrupted Truthful, her face burning up.

  “Don’t you?” asked Stephen in a very brotherly and unfeeling fashion. “Well, be like that! I must be off. I shall see you soon I expect. Goodbye!”

  With that, he turned on his heel, leaving Truthful feeling very much that she had not carried her side of the conversation at all well, and how difficult it would be if Major Harnett di
d indeed become friends with all her Newington-Lacy cousins.

  “I shall have to go abroad,” she whispered to herself, and her eyes filled with tears. She wiped them away and then suddenly laughed at the absurdity of her own words. Here she was, not two weeks in London, and already figuring herself as the lead player in an affecting tragedy! It was not to be borne. She drew herself up and recalled the words of Nelson that her father liked to declaim.

  “The measure may be thought bold, but I am of the opinion the boldest are the safest.”

  Running away would do no good, Truthful decided. Rather she should take command of the situation, and deny Harnett any opportunity to play with her affections. Going to her writing desk, she took pen and paper and wrote a short letter to him.

  Dear Major Harnett,

  I am writing to wish you all happiness with Miss Gough, whom I had the pleasure of meeting at Lady Mournbeck’s ball yestereve and who informed me of your long-standing betrothal. Given this intelligence, your most obliging offer to me must be considered a momentary aberration born of the unusual nature of our temporary situation. As your official position with regard to the continued pursuit of Lady Plathenden and the recovery of my Emerald means that we will be constrained to meet upon occasion in the future, I must request that any communications between us remain wholly to do with this official matter and shall not stray into concerns of a personal nature. However, I should like to be informed as soon as may be possible on the exact detail of your investigation into my stolen Emerald, where you suspect Lady Plathenden is now and your suspicions as to her future movements.

  Yours etc

  Lady Truthful Newington, at Badgery House

  Sealing her letter with a wafer, Truthful went downstairs and handed it to Dworkin.

  “Have that Sergeant Ruggins send this to his master,” said Truthful. “And I have changed my mind, Dworkin. I am at home this afternoon, and you may admit suitable callers to the Blue saloon!”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Unsatisfactory Correspondence

  Determined to do her best not to languish, Truthful threw herself into a social whirl in the next several days and found that while it did not make her entirely forget Major Harnett, such dissipations as a silver loo party at which she won thirteen guineas; a card party at which she lost three dozen new sixpences; a daily walk in the park; a picnic in Boxhill; and entertaining a constant stream of mainly gentlemen callers did make the time pass more quickly and provided some hint that perhaps at some point in the future she would once again be able to take an unalloyed pleasure in such things.

  A slight blemish was put upon these bright amusements by the continued presence of Sergeant Ruggins and her other guardians, who contrived to accompany her in all outings and were constantly about the house and the Square. A greater blemish marred her enjoyment further in the shape of a belated note from Major Harnett, which did not arrive until the Tuesday afternoon. It utterly failed to reply to Truthful’s own letter, neglecting as it did to mention Miss Gough and his engagement at all and being rather vague about the pursuit of Lady Plathenden and the Emerald, in fact telling Truthful less than she had already gleaned from Stephen.

  Dear Lady Truthful,

  Lady Plathenden still eludes us, but we have reason to believe that she and the Emerald are hiding somewhere in the vicinity of Brighton. I have enlisted the assistance of your Newington-Lacy cousins, among other volunteers, the budget of our own department being not what it was during the times of War. I believe the danger to your person has lessened with Lady Plathenden being out of London, but as I understand you are shortly to remove to Brighton you must continue to be vigilant and your guard shall remain until such time as Lady Plathenden is securely in the Tower. Sergeant Ruggins may be relied on. He is considerably brighter than his appearance would indicate.

  Yours etc

  “He hasn’t signed it again!” said Truthful, throwing the letter down in disgust. “And he has been unkind about poor Sergeant Ruggins.”

  “The same poor Sergeant Ruggins who yesterday you declared was the greatest block alive when he wouldn’t let you out of the house until the suspicious-looking flower-sellers had departed the Square?” asked Lady Badgery. She took up the letter and perused it, while Truthful had the grace to blush.

  The two of them were in Lady Badgery’s bedroom with Parkins, overseeing the packing of the Dowager Countess’s clothes for Brighton, which in practice meant sitting together on the sofa, reading letters and drinking orgeat while Parkins and one of the undermaids laid out various dresses on the bed and Lady Badgery indicated whether she wanted them to be taken on the expedition or not.

  “It does explain why we haven’t seen your Newington-Lacy cousins,” said Lady Badgery. “I wonder if they will be at Otterbrook’s masquerade, since they are in Brighton.”

  “Why would they be?” asked Truthful, surprised. “Sir Robert might be acquainted with the Marquis, but I doubt any of the boys have ever met him.”

  “Perhaps they might run across each other,” said Lady Badgery airily. “I daresay they would have many friends in common.”

  “I suppose them to be incognito, attempting to find Lady Plathenden,” said Truthful. Her brow wrinkled. “I wonder how exactly they are going about the business?”

  “Drinking in the Black Lion I would guess,” said Lady Badgery. “No, no that one, Parkins.”

  “I should hope they have adopted some more scientific approach,” said Truthful. She took up the next letter and opened it with Lady Badgery’s Turkish dagger. “Here is Doctor Doyle’s report. It seems Father is doing quite well compared with last week mutatis mutandis . . . really I have asked him time and time again not to put these things in Latin. I suppose he means there has been no change. Oh, I do wish I had the Emerald. Then Father would be well, and I could have no more to do with . . . with such difficult matters.”

  Lady Badgery nodded, possibly in agreement. Parkins laid the final dress out, which was greeted with a scowl and a definitively negative wave of the hand.

  “Parkins will see to your dresses now,” said Lady Badgery. “And I shall have a nap. Signor Fraticelli has promised our costumes by six o’clock. We shall dine in tonight, for tomorrow we must leave very early. I do not like travelling in the heat of the day.”

  “Yes, Aunt,” said Truthful dutifully.

  It took little more than an hour for Parkins and her assistant to pack Truthful’s clothes. But when they were done, and dismissed, Truthful went to the locked chest by the foot of her bed and took out several other articles. These she bundled together in a cloak and put at the bottom of the larger case: the shirt, breeches, coat, hat and top boots of a country gentleman; her spare corset; a box with two pocket pistols, powder and shot; and in a snuff box, her ensorcelled moustache.

  ++++

  The drive to Brighton was a pleasant one, but it was not fast. There was no danger that Lady Badgery’s procession would come anywhere near Sir John Lade’s record run from London to the coastal town. In fact, it was a full eight hours after they set out near dawn that Lady Badgery’s modern and comfortable post-chaise-and-four clattered along the Marine Parade. It was followed by two older coaches: the first for Dworkin, Parkins and some lesser servants; and the second entirely loaded or even overloaded with luggage. The whole convoy was accompanied not only by Sergeant Ruggins and his four men on horseback, but also three of Lady Badgery’s grooms.

  Lord Otterbrook’s house was as he described, an extremely large residence four floors in height and a frontage featuring two front doors, with a stableyard and some gardens behind. The house commanded an excellent view across the Parade, the curiously reddish pebbled beach, and the sea beyond.

  Truthful and Lady Badgery were welcomed by the Marchioness, who apologised for the absence of the Marquis, who she said “was somewhere about the town”. After they had seen their comfortable rooms in the “right-hand house” as she called it, the “left-hand” house apparently being reserved for
male guests, she offered them refreshments, which Lady Badgery accepted. Truthful declined, instead requesting that she might be allowed to walk to the Steine and look upon the Pavilion, which she had only glimpsed from the carriage window as they passed.

  This was allowed, a maid being directed to follow her, along with Sergeant Ruggins and one of his cohorts. Truthful quickly supervised the unpacking of her cases, taking care to squirrel away one particular package, and changed her rather dull travelling dress of dove grey muslin for a more fetching promenade dress of pale green with a tall collar, matched with a charming merino coat in a darker shade of green with saffron edges and silver-buttoned epaulettes, topped with a charming straw bonnet adorned with a silver ribbon. Thus equipped to enrapture the gaze of gentlemen and attract the envy of gentlewomen, she went out into the street.

  A strong sea wind was blowing in from the south-west, which threatened the bonnet, at least until they turned into the Steine, where some shelter was to be had from the surrounding buildings, even though it was quite a large open space, indicative of its origins as the green it had once been. Truthful, who had studied her guidebook, noted Steine House, the residence of Mrs Fitzherbert, but she was intent on making her way to the Marine Pavilion some little way off. This appeared smaller to her than she expected, though the large dome of the stables behind it was impressive, and she supposed it would be a grander building when the work that was currently in train was finished. At present there was a kind of iron scaffold going up around the small dome in the centre of the building, and a great many workmen were engaged in making a mess of the ground about the place. All in all, it was quite disappointing.

  However, a view of the Pavilion was not Truthful’s main object.

  “Where would I find the Black Lion Inn?” she asked Sergeant Ruggins, who was as usual surveying anyone who came within ten feet of her with a suspicious gaze.

  “You don’t want to go there, milady,” said Ruggins. He pointed to the mass of closely-set buildings to the south and west of the Pavilion. “In them narrow lanes, anything could happen.”