Miss Tibbles Interferes

by April Kihlstrom

  Under ordinary circumstances he would never have considered speaking of such intimate things with anyone, much less a young lady. But somehow Miss Hawthorne wasn’t like other young ladies. She did not fall into hysterics nor hang upon his every word. Instead she spoke with sense and with sensibility. She entered into his sentiments even as he entered into hers, and as he talked, William felt some of his own pain ease. It was almost with a sense of wonder that he realized they had reached Mr. Hawthorne’s house, for it seemed much too soon.

  The couple Colonel Merriweather had hired greeted them at the door and then left them alone to find the keys. It did not take long. They were where Miss Hawthorne expected them to be, in her father’s study.

  She would have left at once to return to the museum, but William stopped her with a gesture. “May I,” he asked hesitantly, “look through these books a bit? And perhaps glance at whatever it was your father was working on?”

  “Why?” she replied, clearly taken aback by his odd demand.

  William colored up, feeling unaccustomedly clumsy. “I, er, that is to say ... In the short time that I knew your father. Miss Hawthorne, I came to respect him greatly. I should like to know better who he was, and I can think of no better way than through the books he chose for his library and the papers he wished to write.”

  She hesitated a moment, but then she nodded. “Of course. I understand. I have often felt the same. That his books and papers reflected precisely who he was, I mean. I shall leave you alone and go speak to Mr. and Mrs. Dearborn. They have been very kind to me and to have stayed in the house to take care of it while I have been gone, and I wish to thank them.”

  It was William’s turn to say, “Of course.”

  He waited until she had left the room and then began to rapidly go through the drawers of her father’s desk and the papers that lay on top of it. When he found nothing useful there, he began to pull books from the shelf at random and flip through them to see if anything fell out. To his great disappointment, nothing did so.

  He heard her footsteps coming down the hallway, and by the time Miss Hawthorne came into the room, he was seated once again behind Hawthorne’s desk, holding a pamphlet in his hand. She smiled at the sight of it.

  “Pure sensationalism, Papa used to say. As if we could possibly know for certain how they lived in those days,” Miss Hawthorne said tartly.

  “And yet, your father spent his life trying to make his own guesses on that score, didn’t he?” William countered.

  She nodded, and a look of distress crossed her face. He felt an ogre for causing it. And yet he had to know, had to ask more questions of her.

  “What did your father plan for the museum?” he asked. “What was his vision of how things could be?” Now the smile Miss Hawthorne gave him was a far brighter one. “Papa said the trustees would soon arrange to build a new and larger home for the collections. It was his wish that more scholars could come and study what we have. Indeed, he meant to go to Egypt himself to collect more artifacts, for that was his particular favorite area of interest. For the moment, at any rate. His interests were apt to change with every new discovery. 95

  Papa, I sometimes think, was interested in the entire world and everything in it.”

  William paused in the act of looking through a stack of papers on the desk. “Your father was going to go to Egypt?” he asked. “Had the museum agreed to send him?”

  Miss Hawthorne looked away and bit her lower lip, as though sorry she had spoken so freely.

  “Is something wrong?” William asked.

  At first he thought she wouldn’t answer him, but then she took a deep breath and said, “No. My father, it seems, had set aside some money and invested it so that there would have been enough for him to go.”

  William stared at her, and he knew his jaw hung open. He had seen how shabbily both Hawthorne and his daughter dressed. He had heard Hawthorne complain about minor expenses. Certainly he had never given any indication that he had sufficient funds saved for something like a journey to Egypt. So that was why Miss Hawthorne wore a new dress today. Clearly she had gotten access to the funds!

  He must have spoken aloud, for Miss Hawthorne flushed. And then she surprised him. There was almost an air of defiance about her as she said, “Papa left enough to provide quite nicely for me. It was far more than I would have ever guessed he had saved. And I have no notion how he did so, even with the investments that were made for him. Certainly he never told me about any of it. But now the money is mine, and I need not live quite so penuriously as he chose to do.” William carefully eased himself up and moved to stand next to her. “When did you find out about the funds? Do you know where they came from?”

  Miss Hawthorne smiled sadly and shook her head. “I have already said I do not. Indeed, I only know about the money at all because Mrs. Merriweather suggested I consult my father’s solicitor yesterday to discover my circumstances. She was worried, you see, that I might need to earn my way, and thought it best I know as soon as possible. And when I saw Papa’s solicitor, he told me about my inheritance. He said something about investments, but I do not know what sort they might have been.”

  William drew in a deep breath. “So you are a wealthy young lady, after all.”

  “You say that as though it makes a great difference,” Miss Hawthorne said sharply. “Does it matter so much to your opinion of me, sir?”

  He shook his head. “No. But I cannot help thinking it makes a very great difference to you, Miss Hawthorne. You will have your choice of suitors and of futures, in a way that you would not, if your father had left you destitute, as I half expected he might have done.”

  She unbent a trifle, then. “That is very much what Mrs. Merriweather has said to me,” she admitted reluctantly. “But it is something I have not yet become accustomed to, and it feels very strange.”

  William nodded. “So it would, to anyone. Well, you will not need to work at the museum any longer. That must be something of a relief to you.”

  Miss Hawthorne rounded on him then. “Do you think I do 50 for money?” She paused and laughed bitterly. “I have not been paid so much as a halfpenny in all the years I helped Papa at the museum. I am considered a nuisance more than anything else by most of the people there. No, I go because I cannot bear not to do so! And your words only remind me that sooner or later, and I fear it shall be sooner, they will tell me that I am no longer welcome to be there.”

  And then she promptly burst into tears. William felt helpless. Her pain seemed to tug at his own heart. He knew it was not wise, but he could not simply step back and let her cry. Instead, he leaned his cane against the desk and put his good arm around Miss Hawthorne’s shoulders. He drew her against his breast, as he had done once before. To himself he thought wryly that if he had wanted to court Miss Hawthorne, then he was not doing a very good job of appearing the heroic figure to her. But he could not think what else to do except to simply hold her as she cried.

  And, in the end, Miss Hawthorne rewarded him by lifting her head and gifting him with a tremulous smile. She even reached up and placed a gentle kiss against his cheek before moving away. William found himself oddly reluctant to let her go.

  For a moment she kept her back to him, and then she turned and said in a brisk voice that fooled neither of them, “We had best get back to the museum with my father's keys. At least they were still here. The colonel and Mrs. Merriweather will be wondering what has happened to us.”

  “Yes, of course,” he said, though he wished very much he could just stay there, with her, offering her as much comfort as she could or would accept.

  But then, since that wasn’t what he was supposed to be doing, perhaps it was just as well she insisted on going. Certainly William betrayed none of his feelings on his face or in his voice as he went outside with Miss Hawthorne.

  In the carriage, going back to the museum, she worried how long they had been away and whether, perhaps, the colonel would be impatient with them. But perhap
s they were not gone as long as it seemed, for neither the colonel nor Mrs. Merriweather made any comment to that point. Instead, they talked about the artifacts they had sorted through while Miss Hawthorne and Stanfield were gone.

  William scarcely heard them. He was trying to decide how best he could carry out the job he’d been assigned by Thornsby without arousing the suspicions of the others. In the end he simply said quietly, “I am a trifle tired. If you will forgive me, I think I shall go home.”

  When they offered to accompany him out to the street, Stanfield held up a hand. “No, no, I shall be fine. Please go on with the work. As you have said, Miss Hawthorne, we don’t know for how long they shall allow us to do so.”

  But the colonel would not be dissuaded. He walked with the captain, and the moment they were out of earshot of the ladies, William discovered why Merriweather had been so persistent.

  “Have you thought any more about what I said the other day?” the colonel asked.

  “W-what do you mean?” William stammered.

  “I mean, have you decided whether or not you wish to confide in me? You really should trust me, you know.”

  Stanfield stopped and drew himself upright. “I wish I could,” he replied honestly. “I wish I could.”

  Colonel Merriweather stared at him and then gave a snort of disgust. He turned on his heel and stalked away, leaving William alone at the top of the stairs beside the stuffed giraffes that greeted visitors to the museum. Slowly Stanfield began to make his way down those stairs.

  He half expected someone else to come and speak to him, but no one did. William went out the door, across the courtyard, and out the gate. Only when the porter would have hailed a hackney for him, did Stanfield pretend to remember something and go back inside, hoping that any watchers had by now turned away. He kept to the shadows, as much as he could, as he made his way back into the building. When he was certain no one was there to see him, he headed toward the part of the museum that so interested Thornsby.

  12

  The colonel returned to the room where Mrs. Merri- weather and Ariel were working. They seemed to be deep in conversation, and he had to clear his throat quite loudly for them to notice his return.

  “Perhaps it is just as well,” he said, when he had their attention, “that Captain Stanfield has left. Mrs. Merri- weather told me, last night, about the statue of the cat, Miss Hawthorne. I should like to see both it, and the room that contains it, for myself.”

  They made a small procession going through the museum, and Ariel could only be grateful that no one saw them, for she had no wish to answer questions to anyone save the colonel and Mrs. Merriweather. Not when she did not know who had taken the original statue.

  When they reached the room, the colonel took out the spare set of keys Ariel had fetched from home. He unlocked the door, and much like Mrs. Merriweather had done, stood there for some moments just studying the room.

  In a quiet voice, Mrs. Merriweather explained about the footprints they had found and how the room had been unlocked at the time although it shouldn’t have been. Then, like Mrs. Merriweather, the colonel indicated that Ariel should precede him.

  “There may be many such items in this room,” she said quietly, “but this is the one I am most certain of.” As the older couple watched, Ariel lifted the box off the shelf. As she opened it for the colonel she said, “It is a clever imitation of the original, but that one had a flaw right here and this one does not.”

  The colonel nodded his understanding as he carefully took the statue and turned it over and around in his hands. There was a grim look upon his face that only deepened, the longer he looked at the thing.

  As he did so, Mrs. Merriweather asked Ariel, “Have you any notion, my dear, who would take the statue, or why or where it might be sold? I know that you said yesterday that you did not. But I thought perhaps something might have occurred to you overnight.”

  Ariel shook her head. “I only wish I had.”

  Mrs. Merriweather then turned to the colonel. “Well?” she asked.

  He nodded. “You are right, my dear,” he said. “This is important. And I know someone who will wish to know about it at once.”

  Mrs. Merriweather did not try to hide her sense of satisfaction. “I knew you would think it important,” she said. “So, what should we do next? Should we look for more such imitations?”

  That gave the colonel pause. He set down the object and turned to her. His expression was stern as he said, “You will do nothing of the sort! You are to go back to my aunt’s house, and I want you to take Miss Hawthorne with you. I shall stay and investigate, but I want to know that both of you are safe! This statue, or rather this false statue, proves that something very dangerous is going on here.”

  “I should have thought that two dead bodies did so already quite effectively,” Mrs. Merriweather countered in a dry, angry voice.

  “Yes, but this explains why. Now go back home. I shall send word of this to someone who will come and look at the statue and know precisely what to make of it,” the colonel said briskly.

  Mrs. Merriweather started to object and then changed her mind. Instead she looked at Miss Hawthorne and pondered the matter for a moment. Long enough for the colonel to become both suspicious and alarmed.

  “Here, now, no more tricks, Marian! You are to go back to my aunt’s house and you are to take Miss Hawthorne with you and you are not to do any more investigating on your own. Have I made myself clear?”

  Mrs. Merriweather reached up and patted her husband’s cheek. “Quite clear, my dear. Miss Hawthorne? Come along. We can do nothing more here, and I suppose we may as well go back to Lady Merriweather’s house.”

  “Ma'am?” Ariel said, with a sense of understandable bewilderment.

  “Marian!”

  The colonel’s voice held a warning. It was distinctly a warning and one that neither lady could mistake. Mrs. Merriweather looked at her husband, a bland expression upon her face. “Yes, my dear?”

  “Straight back to my aunt's house!”

  “Yes, dear.”

  He watched her, clearly distrustful, but he let them both go. Mrs. Merriweather was careful to say not a word until they were some distance from the room, and Ariel took her cue from the older woman. But when they were out of earshot she said, somewhat doubtfully, “Are we going straight back to Lady Merriweather’s house?”

  Before the other woman could answer, they spotted someone familiar at the far end of the corridor. He spotted them at the same moment and tried to slip back out of sight. But neither lady was having any such nonsense. They both began to run down the corridor and were in time to see the tip of a cane just before it disappeared inside a doorway.

  Mrs. Merriweather and Miss Hawthorne looked at each other with grim smiles of satisfaction. Together they slowed their pace and moved silently toward that particular room. Aloud they began to talk.

  “Isn’t it a pity that the colonel wishes us to go home?”

  “Yes, indeed. Do you know, I thought I saw Captain Stanfield, but perhaps I was mistaken?”

  “Oh, yes, you must have been mistaken, Mrs. Merri- weather, for we know he left some time ago.”

  “Yes, quite some . . .”

  At that moment, they stepped into the room and stopped. It appeared to be empty, but neither Ariel nor Mrs. Merriweather was deceived. They could see marks in the dust on the floor. Mrs. Merriweather took up where she had left off.

  “. . . time ago. A pity, for we could have asked him about those things we were not certain where to place.”

  “Er, yes.”

  Ariel spied the tip of his boot just showing past the stack of boxes behind which he must be hiding. She signaled to Mrs. Merriweather and together they crept closer. Together they blocked any possible route of escape.

  “Couldn’t you, Captain Stanfield,” Mrs. Merriweather said, stepping into his line of sight, “explain a number of things? Such as why you are hiding here, when you said you were leaving t
he museum some time ago.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and waited. Captain Stanfield colored up a bright red, but he did not concede defeat easily. “I see you have found me out. I did mean to leave, but then thought that if I could just find a quiet place to rest for a bit I would be able to come and help again, and I would have saved myself the trip to my rooms and back.”

  “Oh, of course. Quite a sensible thing to do,” Mrs. Merriweather said as though she believed him. “Don’t you think so, Miss Hawthorne?”

  Ariel stared at the captain. It shouldn’t hurt this much to see him behave in such an odd way, but it did. She didn’t want to believe him capable of anything infamous, but she could not help but wonder why he was lying to them, and felt hurt that he wished to lie to her. Mrs. Merriweather must know as well as she did that he was lying, and therefore there must be some meaning to what she said. Ariel gamely tried to follow the older woman’s lead.

  “I, yes, of course,” the younger woman said, a bit doubtfully. “Most sensible.”

  “A pity,” Mrs. Merriweather went on, “that I don’t believe a word of it.”

  “Why the devil not?” Stanfield burst out.

  “Because if it were that simple you would not have run away from us,” Mrs. Merriweather said, advancing upon the hapless lad. “And you did run away and hide in here. Not very well, I must say, but the point is that you attempted to do so. It is not your fault that we were more observant than you counted upon. Now, Captain Stanfield, I should like the truth!”