by Clare Jayne
“That is where my friend, McDonald, is useful,” he said with a grin at the young man in question, who wore matching red silk coat and breeches with a red and gold striped waistcoat. “He is acquainted with Lady Exton’s family and he can also introduce me to McCrieff.”
“I do not recall that name,” Ishbel said, confused.
“McCrieff is the Duke of Lothian.”
“He is quite a gambler but that is a long way from accusing him of a scandalous robbery,” McDonald said. He had a distinguished air but plainer features than his two friends.
“We will make no accusations without a great deal of proof,” Mr MacPherson promised.
“And where do you intend to get such proof?” Mr Chiverton asked.
Mr MacPherson remained silent, clearly having no answer for this, so Ishbel said, “Whoever the thief is, they must sell the necklace so we need only find who bought it and match that description with the person we suspect. Alternatively, someone might have seen somebody in Lady Tinbough’s bed chamber or with the necklace and not realised the significance of what they saw.”
Mr MacPherson smiled at her while his friends looked thoroughly taken aback by her speech, although she did not know why since it was all very obvious. Mr McDonald raised a quizzing glass to one eye to study her, which she disliked, so Ishbel was almost glad when the music started.
She placed her gloved hand in Mr MacPherson’s as they stepped forward to take a place among the other dance couples. The problem with the minuet was that each couple performed their moves alone while everyone else stood about watching them so, if one did not do the dance well and Ishbel had not exaggerated her lack of skill, then everyone in the room would observe it. It was also far too long, so there was plenty of time to drag out the embarrassment.
At least Mr MacPherson could not tell how damp her palms were within her gloves although, from the reassuring look he gave her, he could feel the slight shaking in her hands that she could not quell. She focused her attention on him – instead of the sea of frowning faces – and began to move the steps, not letting herself think about anything but doing her part correctly. A couple of times her heeled shoes caused her to wobble and misstep but, as the music came to an end, she felt with relief that she should have done a lot worse. As she looked from Mr MacPherson’s cheerful face to the room ahead of her, she caught sight of Harriette, who was watching her with an annoyed expression and shaking her head. Ishbel’s confidence plummeted.
Mr MacPherson led her back to his companions when Mr Chiverton at once said, “Would you allow me to claim a dance later, Miss Campbell?”
Horror made her speak without thinking: “Mr Chiverton, you could not be so cruel to me!”
He laughed, amused rather than offended by her reaction, his two companions also smiling, so she was able to breathe again. “Since I have no wish to cause you distress, I will of course retract my request,” he said, “but I hope you will at least believe me when I say that MacPherson did not exaggerate your beauty. Your presence here tonight makes the entire evening more enjoyable.”
He certainly liked to employ the same false flattery as Mr MacPherson and, while she normally disliked the suggestion that her only purpose in a room was to look attractive, Mr Chiverton did not leer at her or speak in the intimate manner she had disliked in the past. Indeed, she could see the same amiable nature in him that made him wish to be kind to her as existed in Mr MacPherson and she found herself liking him.
“Shall we start talking to Lady Tinbough’s visitors?”
“Certainly,” Mr MacPherson said.
“But in the most tactful way possible,” Mr McDonald stipulated.
“Of course, my friend,” Mr MacPherson agreed.
They made their way through the crowd, past a group having an intelligent-sounding conversation on whether there would be a civil war in France which she would have liked to listen to. They finally reached a generously-proportioned middle-aged woman whose round face and narrow eyes were reflected in the features of four of the young men and women around her. Ishbel thought the group resembled a mother duck surrounded by feathered or, in this case, frilly ducklings. Mr McDonald made the introduction to Lady Exton and, by good fortune, Mrs Abbott’s unmarried daughter was also with the group so that was four of Lady Tinbough’s visitors all together.
“I believe we have an acquaintance in common,” Mr MacPherson remarked to Lady Exton and, when she raised an eyebrow in question, he went on, “Miss Campbell and I had the pleasure of calling on Lady Tinbough earlier today.”
“Aah, yes.” Lady Exton studied him with more interest, such a connection apparently making him more eligible. “Do I know your family?”
“Lady Morrelly is my aunt.”
“Yes, of course. I thought I had seen you with her. I have the greatest respect for that good lady.”
Mr MacPherson smiled and Ishbel could see them never getting to the point if she did not intervene now. “We were shocked by what had happened to Lady Tinbough.”
Lady Exton looked doubtfully at Ishbel, as if not entirely sure that she wished to know her. “What do you mean?”
“Have you not heard? She has had a valuable emerald necklace stolen within the last couple of weeks.”
“How unpleasant,” Lady Exton said.
One of her daughters added, “She must be furious. Where was it taken from?”
“Her bedchamber.”
“Did the thief break in at night?” The daughter was wide-eyed at this thought.
“No, there was no break-in,” Ishbel said, watching everyone’s reactions. “The thief must have been someone who works at the house or a visitor.”
“A tradesman,” Mr MacPherson said quickly and Ishbel realised she had come too close to making an accusation. “We wondered if any of you might have spotted someone unsavoury acting in a furtive manner.”
The younger women shook their heads while Lady Exton said coolly, “If we had seen anything of the kind then we would have informed Lady Tinbough at the time.”
“Of course,” Mr MacPherson agreed and, before Ishbel could say that they might not have understood what they saw, he changed to a different topic of conversation, then he and Mr McDonald led Lady Exton’s unmarried daughter and Mrs Abbott’s daughter onto the dance area.
Mr Chiverton was standing off to one side, talking about horses with Lady Exton’s son, leaving Ishbel alone amongst the ladies who were viewing her with the disdain she had long since grown accustomed to. Lady Exton’s haughty attitude made it difficult to believe she would commit a theft and the expensive clothes her whole family wore suggested no lack of money so Ishbel could think of no reason for any of them to commit the crime. Perhaps if she got to know more about them she might find a motive.
“Are you enjoying the season so far, My Lady?” she asked.
“Somewhat,” Lady Exton said, “but I always find these public balls to be over-crowded and full of a less than desirable type of person.”
The cut was unmistakeable so, with burning cheeks, Ishbel excused herself on the pretext of wanting to get something to drink. It was not entirely a lie as the Assembly Rooms were hot so she was thirsty but she still felt as if she were surrendering before having discovered anything useful and had failed Mr MacPherson. At this rate, they would never get anywhere with the investigation. Questioning people was not nearly as straightforward as she had imagined.
A servant handed her a glass of ratafia and she thanked him and took a sip, the sweet taste fortifying. Mr MacPherson had said he knew the Duke of Lothian so that left Mrs McRae and her daughters and it was up to Ishbel to find a way to question them.
She sought out Harriette who was talking with several of Edinburgh’s wealthiest married women but broke off to glare at Ishbel. “Have you frightened off Mr MacPherson already?” she asked and her acquaintances looked amused.
Refusing to show that the barb had affected her, Ishbel said, “Are you acquainted with a Mrs McRae?”
“Yes, of course.” Ishbel should have realised that Harriette knew everyone in society. “Why?”
“Would you introduce me to her? It is in connection with that matter you asked me to look into this morning.”
“Very well.” She gave her friends a look that said Ishbel was a useless child who needed to be looked after every second as she told them she would return shortly. As Harriette led her through the crowds of talking people all dressed in the finest silks and velvets, the orchestra adding to the noise, she said, “What are you up to?”
“Mr MacPherson and I are doing as you bid us,” Ishbel snapped, wanting nothing more than to give up on the whole enterprise. “We are trying to discover who stole the necklace.”
“If you think Mrs McRae or her daughters are responsible then you are vastly overestimating their wits.”
“They might have seen the theft without realising it.”
Harriette gave a wry smile. “That is entirely possible – I am sure a great deal happens around them that they fail to comprehend.” She raised her voice and said, “Mrs McRae! How pleasant to see you here. Have you met my cousin, Miss Campbell?”
Mrs McRae and half a dozen young women curtsied to Harriette and Ishbel in a flustered manner and Mrs McRae asked Ishbel in a feathery tone, “Are you enjoying the ball, my dear?”
“Yes, thank you,” Ishbel said with a smile, sorry for inflicting Harriette on the group and discomforting them all so thoroughly. “I had the honour of meeting an acquaintance of yours earlier today: Lady Tinbough.”
This name brought more worried expressions but Ishbel could not tell if this was guilt or simply that they found Her Ladyship nearly as intimidating as they found Harriette.
“I have not seen Lady Tinbough tonight,” Mrs McRae said.
“I believe she might still be dealing with the blow of losing a very valuable emerald necklace. It appears to have been stolen.”
They reacted, as the first group had, with some excitement at this piece of interesting gossip. Ishbel could discern no sign of guilt in them.
“Perhaps Deacon Brodie has escaped his prison cell to commit more dreadful crimes,” one of the daughters suggested and got a frown from her mother.
“I fear this was no masked thief,” Ishbel said. “No lock was picked so the thief must have either been working in the house or been a visitor to it.”
“I presume you are not suggesting that I or one of my children might have been responsible for such a thing,” Mrs McRae exclaimed angrily and there was a shocked silence.
“No, of course not. I just...”
But the group had already turned away, refusing to converse further with her.
Harriette shook her head and led Ishbel away, saying, “Did none of the countless dictionaries you possess define the word tact? You were supposed to find a necklace, not accuse everyone Lady Tinbough has ever met of the crime.”
“We are doing our best,” Ishbel insisted.
Harriette’s expression made it all too clear what she thought of their endeavours.
Chapter Eight
“EWAN, THIS is the Duke of Lothian,” McDonald said. “Your Grace, may I introduce Mr MacPherson, Lady Morrelly’s nephew.”
Ewan bowed and smiled politely as he studied the impoverished Duke, who was the only person they knew of so far who had a reason to steal Lady Tinbough’s emeralds. He was a well-favoured gentleman of around thirty with black hair and dressed in the highest quality of clothes of a peacock blue colour. The Duke nodded to him, took a swallow from what smelt like a glass of whisky and said cheerfully, “Aahh, yes, I knew your father slightly. Fearsome fellow – I expect he kept you in line.”
“True, but I imagine it did me no harm,” Ewan responded, recalling his father’s stern nature and criticisms but reminding himself also of his strong sense of honour and duty. He had been an almost impossible man to please and had seemed to think he would live forever, never teaching Ewan anything about running an estate. It had been a difficult and lonely time after his death and Ewan’s sister’s departure to London with her new husband, but he thought he had managed his new job fairly responsibly. Focusing his mind on his current duty, Ewan said, “I had the honour of another introduction today – Lady Tinbough.”
“Is she here?” The Duke looked around. “I thought she had another engagement?”
“I met her earlier today when she mentioned...”
“Inderly!” The Duke called out, waving over a thin, pale young man who approached them with a much older man. “Is your mother here tonight?”
So this was Lady Tinbough’s son. The meeting could be a useful one, Ewan thought.
“No,” Viscount Inderly said, “she is attending a musical evening at Lady Corchester’s home.”
“Oh, I thought you saw her here?” The Duke said to Ewan, looking confused. The slight slurring of his words suggested he had had a good deal to drink.
“No, I met her at her residence. Lady Huntly had asked if her cousin, Miss Campbell, and myself would look into the theft of Lady Tinbough’s emeralds,” Ewan explained, glancing at the Duke who had no obvious look of guilt or other reaction to the words.
“Why on earth would my wife involve you in a purely domestic business?” demanded the man with greying hair who had joined them with the Viscount Inderly.
“Lord Tinbough?” Ewan guessed. “I am not sure whether or not we can help solve this but Lady Huntly merely wanted to offer assistance to her friend. I am an acquaintance of the family.”
“I do not doubt that doing a favour for your betters seemed a clever move, but there is no mystery to uncover. My wife’s necklace has been mislaid and I am quite certain it will turn up.”
Ewan stiffened at this highly insulting comment on his motives and said, “If you wish Miss Campbell and myself to withdraw our assistance then of course we will do so. Perhaps you could inform your wife...”
Tinbough cut across him: “Do what you like. I have no interest in my wife’s melodramas.” He turned and stalked away, leaving an uncomfortable group behind him.
“I apologise for my father,” the Viscount Inderly said. “He and my mother had an argument tonight but he should not take his bad moods out on everyone around him.” His bitter expression suggested that he too had been subjected to Tinbough’s rage.
“It is of no matter,” Ewan said quickly. “Assuming your family does still want the necklace found, can you think of anyone who might have taken it?”
“No one. The idea of some thief breaking in is preposterous. As father says, it will very likely turn up having been put in the wrong case or something similar. It is kind of you to want to help but I trust you will not waste too much of your time on this.”
“Why would Lady Tinbough imagine you could find a thief?” The Duke asked, puzzlement in his eyes.
“An excellent question,” McDonald said with a meaningful look at Ewan, before suggesting to the group, “Does anyone feel like a game of faro?”
“Yes, certainly,” the Duke said at once. “I am due for a lucky night, I can tell. Shall we refresh our drinks before starting?”
Ewan agreed, hoping that the Duke might let something slip about the emeralds, whether he had taken them himself or seen anyone else, but this idea was quickly thwarted as several more people joined them at their table in the gaming room and the subject turned to the latest gossip of whose wife or husband had been seen with whom. The reaction of both Lord Tinbough and his son that the necklace had never been stolen also made him wonder if he and Miss Campbell were wasting their time. It would be a relief if they were and the necklace reappeared in a day or two’s time, but he found he did not want to stop just yet. The puzzle was a distraction of sorts and it did allow him the opportunity to spend more time with Miss Campbell and find out more about her. She was the real mystery.
By the time the card game ended, it was around two in the morning and Miss Campbell and her family had already left. He was disappointed but he would see her again later in
the day. She had looked enchanting tonight although the surroundings had seemed to leave her self-conscious and shy.
Chiverton, who had spent most of the night dancing, rejoined Ewan and McDonald towards the end of the night just in time to win every round he played and leave the house with them in a cheerful mood.
“We will see you this afternoon at Lord Judston’s house,” Chiverton said as Ewan’s carriage pulled up to collect him.
“I fear not,” he said. “I must interview servants with Miss Campbell about this theft business.”
“Why on earth should you try to find the thief?” McDonald asked, frowning. “You have no possible abilities for such work and you are only succeeding in alienating people.”
It was galling but Ewan could not help feeling McDonald’s assessment was correct. He was blundering about with no idea what he was doing. “Lady Huntly placed the matter in the hands of myself and Miss Campbell,” he tried to explain. “I cannot let Miss Campbell question servants and tradesmen on her own.”
“She should not have to,” Chiverton said. “The necklace stolen...”
“If it was even stolen!” McDonald interjected.
“... Did not belong to either of you so you have no obligations here,” Chiverton continued, ignoring the interruption. “Just tell Lady Tinbough she will have to hire someone who knows how to deal with such matters.”
“We promised to speak to Lady Tinbough’s servants tomorrow – this afternoon, that is. I will meet Miss Campbell as planned and, if we make no progress with that, I will suggest backing out of this venture. If it is difficult for me then it is entirely unfair for Miss Campbell to be charged with such a task.”
He opened the door to his carriage but was stopped by McDonald saying in a tone Ewan took offence to, “I trust you are not courting that young lady.”
“Not at present, but I can think of no reason why anyone should object if I did.”
“None at all, old fellow,” Chiverton said, putting an arm round both their shoulders, and Ewan’s anger faded.
“I simply meant that you could do better,” McDonald said and Ewan glared at him, anger instantly returning. “You saw how gauche she was when dancing and her awkwardness talking to people.”
