by Joan Aiken
‘Welcome, welcome, your ladyship!’ said Frinton. ‘You are looking very well, if I may say so!’
Ignoring this, Lady Catherine glanced about her with a touch of her old discontent.
‘Where is everybody?’ she demanded. ‘Oh, I suppose they are inside,’ and she ascended the steps. Pronkum followed her closely, carrying a dressing-bag and a small bundle wrapped in striped satin.
Once inside the main entrance hall, Lady Catherine gazed about her a second time in dignified surprise.
‘Where is everybody?’ she asked again.
The Collinses were there, with Maria. And Lord Luke was there, wearing an anxious expression.
‘Where is my nephew FitzWilliam? Where is Anne? Where is Mrs Jenkinson? Where are the Delavals?’
‘We are so rejoiced to see you back, dear Lady Catherine,’ hastily began Mr Collins with a whole series of bows, and Lord Luke said:
‘I have to tell you, Catherine—’ when suddenly the maid Pronkum let out a piercing shriek.
‘My lady’s diamonds! Where are they? They’ve gone!’
‘Nonsense, Pronkum! What can you mean?’
‘They were just here! I laid ’em on this marble table – and I went out to the carriage to get my lady’s cloak-bag – and when I come back, they was gone! Gone! Just clean gone!’ And she burst into hysterical laughter.
‘No, really, this is too much!’ exclaimed Lord Luke angrily. ‘Those wretched diamonds are nothing but trouble. I wish to heaven, Catherine, that you had never acquired them! Let a search be made. They have probably been knocked to the floor by one of the fellows bringing in the bags.’
A diligent search was conducted, in and around the coach, up the front steps, throughout the entrance hall, in and behind the marble furnishings and statuary. No diamonds were forthcoming.
Then Joss said:
‘Look at the dog.’
For Pluto, contravening all prohibition, had followed Joss in and glided like a black-and-white fish among the legs and skirts of searchers.
Pluto was standing beside Smirke and had his nose raised, like a pointer, towards the tails of Smirke’s rusty black jacket.
‘We’ll just take a look in those tail pockets, Smirke,’ said Lord Luke with unusual sharpness and decision.
‘Oh, sir! You can’t mean—’
‘Take a look, Muddle and Verity.’
Briskly, despite Smirke’s protests, the two men did so, and drew forth the striped satin bundle.
Pronkum had hysterics all over again.
‘Oh, the wretch! Oh, how could you, you monster!’
‘You had best call the constables, Frinton,’ said Lord Luke wearily.
‘Yes, my lord,’ agreed Frinton, deeply shocked. But Smirke made a sudden dash and ran out through the open doors into the driving rain.
Joss said, ‘I’m wholly sorry the dog came in, your ladyship; but anyhow, seems he made hisself useful to ye at the last. I’m here to give in my notice, my lady, and say goodbye, for I’m off to – to stay with relatives in Wales.’
He ducked his curly head and nipped out between the double front doors almost as fast as Smirke had done.
‘Dear me!’ said Lady Catherine. ‘Garden-boys giving notice? What next? What are things coming to? This is most singular – most irregular!’
‘Best come into the saloon and sit down, Catherine,’ said Lord Luke. ‘For there is much to tell you.’
‘But first,’ said Charlotte Collins, ‘let me take your hat and pelisse, my lady, and I feel sure you are in need of a little refreshment.’
Her tone was anxious, solicitous. It held a touch of commiseration.
‘Where, pray, is Mrs Jenkinson?’
‘I am afraid she has left your service, Lady Catherine.’
‘Gone? But why? And where?’
‘She – she began to feel her age. Those headaches from which she suffered so—’
‘Headaches?’
‘She sent you her humble apologies, my lady. She will be writing a letter of more complete explanation and apology as soon as she is settled.’
‘Settled? But where? Where has she gone?’
Charlotte said, ‘She has gone to live with relatives in Wales. Will you not sit down?’ Lady Catherine sat down in the saloon as suggested. A tray with wine and rout-cakes was put beside her. She sipped a little wine and her bewildered gaze swept round the room.
On the mantelpiece opposite her was a large portrait of Anne, life-size, sitting with a cat on her lap. One corner of it was unfinished.
‘How did that get here? Where did it come from?’
‘I imagine you recognize the style, Catherine,’ said Lord Luke. ‘It was by Desmond Finglow. His last picture. Anne has left it for you.’
‘Left it? What can you mean? Where is Anne?’
‘She has left a letter for you,’ said Lord Luke. ‘Here it is.’
Lady Catherine read:
My dear Mother,
But the time you read this, I shall be in Wales, living with Mrs Jenkinson in the cottage that my father bequeathed in a codicil to his eldest child. But I am not that child. The person who owns the cottage is Joscelyn Godwin, who was my father’s daughter by Mrs Godwin. She was brought up as a boy by the wet-nurse Petronella Smith, because the pay was higher for boys at nurse; and Petronella loved Joss and carried her off to London. When Joss grew old enough to choose, she could see very well that boys can make their way in the world more easily than girls. But she and I love each other like dear sisters, as we are, and we are going to share the cottage in Wales that my father left Joss, and Mrs Jenkinson is going to keep house for us. You will have to find another companion.
I am sorry to hear from Uncle Luke that you have been having a hard time of it in the West Country. But I hope you are now safe home.
Yours etc.,
Anne de Bourgh
It took Lady Catherine many minutes to assimilate the contents of this letter. Under Maria’s pitying gaze, she seemed to age visibly as she read and thought about it.
She murmured, ‘Joss? The garden-boy?’ in tones of incredulity.
‘Did you know about this?’ she asked Luke. He shook his head.
‘Not until latterly.’
He thought of Anne’s ecstatic programme, which she had divulged to him.
‘We shall get up at six. We shall read Latin – Joss knows it, old Sir Felix taught him – for two hours. Then breakfast. Then literature and French until twelve o’clock. Then we shall work in our garden. We shall have just enough money to live on, if Mamma continues to pay my allowance until my majority. If not, we shall sell produce from our garden. Joss says we shall be able to manage. It was kind of you to give Joss that ten gold guineas. We shall be able to live on that for some months.’
‘Where are the Delavals?’ Lady Catherine asked, as if she needed a respite from thinking about Anne.
‘Ralph has gone to live with Young Tom.’
‘Young Tom, who is Young Tom?’
‘Ambrose Mynges, the younger of the two painters.’
‘How very strange … And his sister? Miss Delaval?’
‘She has returned to her home in Wensleydale.’
‘I thought she planned to visit an aunt in Exeter? Or was that a lie? There have been so many lies told, I begin to feel quite confused. And FitzWilliam? Where is he?’
‘He has returned to Derbyshire. He sent his best wishes and respects.’
‘Ha! I know what value to put on them. That minx will get him. As soon as she knows about Adelaide’s legacy, he is doomed … He would have been far better off with little Miss Lucas,’ Lady Catherine said, half to herself, forgetting that the Miss Lucas in question was standing close beside her.
Maria said, in a gentle tone:
‘Lady Catherine, would you like it if, for a while, I came here to Rosings to take over Mrs Jenkinson’s duties? I am a famous housekeeper, I can promise you – Charlotte will attest to that! When our mother was laid up with the pl
eurisy, I took over all the duties of the house till she was better, and that was a family of thirteen! And I would not be a stranger to your ways. What do you say? Shall I try for a while?’
Lady Catherine stood up shakily.
‘Yes, thank you, Miss Lucas, I think that is an excellent suggestion. We – we shall talk again later. Now, if you will excuse me, I think I shall retire to my room for a while … So much to think about. Lucius!’ She turned suddenly to her brother. ‘I have many things to say to you!’
He quailed a little.
‘Yes, Catherine.’
‘But they shall not be said now. You—’ Suddenly she sounded anxious. ‘You are not going off immediately – not going back to Derbyshire, not just yet, are you?’
‘No, Catherine. Not in the immediate future. Not if I can be of any use here.’
‘Good. I am glad to hear that. I shall come down again in a little while. Then I shall have a bone to pick with you!’
Lady Catherine left the saloon, with Charlotte and Maria following solicitously in her wake.
Lord Luke murmured, ‘At the marriage banquets of the Sicilian poor, the bride’s father, after the meal, is accustomed to hand the bridegroom a bone, saying, “Pick this bone; for you have taken in hand a much harder task…” Deucalion, after the deluge, was told to cast behind him the bones of his mother … To make no bones of a thing is the equivalent of the French “flater le dé…”.’
ALSO BY JOAN AIKEN
The Silence of Herondale
Trouble with Product X
Hate Begins at Home
The Ribs of Death
The Windscreen Weepers
The Embroidered Sunset
The Butterfly Picnic
Died on a Rainy Sunday
Voices in an Empty House
Castle Barbane
The Five-Minute Marriage
The Smile of a Stranger
The Lightning Tree
The Young Lady from Paris
Foul Matter
Mansfield Revisited
Deception
Blackground
Jane Fairfax
Morningquest
Eliza’s Daughter
Emma Watson
The Youngest Miss Ward
LADY CATHERINE’S NECKLACE. Copyright © 2000 by Joan Aiken Enterprises Ltd. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
eBooks may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases, please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department by writing to [email protected].
ISBN 0-312-24406-1
First published in Great Britain by Victor Gollancz, an imprint of Orion Books Ltd
First U.S. Edition: April 2000
eISBN 9781466884694
First eBook edition: September 2014
