He held his ground; Ariel had to give him that. Indeed, he straightened to his full height and even managed a wry smile. “I can see,” he told Mrs. Merriweather, “why you were such an effective governess to my cousin. She didn’t stand a chance, once you came upon the scene, did she?”
“No,” the older woman agreed tranquilly, “and neither do you. So you may as well stop wasting our time and tell me the truth.”
But before he could answer, Ariel stepped between Stanfield and Mrs. Merriweather.
“I am certain Captain Stanfield has a perfectly good explanation for his behavior,” she said bravely.
“I am certain he does,” the former governess agreed. “The only question is whether he means to tell us what it is. The truth, Captain Stanfield!” she repeated.
He sighed. “Very well, I thought to try to find out something on my own about your father’s death, Miss Hawthorne. And about Tom’s.”
“Why not leave it to the Bow Street Runner, Mr. Collins?” Mrs. Merriweather asked suspiciously.
“Because he does not seem to be succeeding. Nor do I think Mr. Collins will ever put any effort into discovering who killed poor Tom. Your father’s death he will perhaps investigate thoroughly, Miss Hawthorne, but not Tom’s. And I happen to think his life mattered, too.” Suspicion warred in Ariel’s breast with a desire to hug the captain for his concern about Tom. And since that was unthinkable, she stepped back and forced herself to say, “Well, and what have you found? And why hide from us?”
He looked at her then, and it seemed there was both honesty and pain in his eyes as he said, “I did not want you drawn into this, Miss Hawthorne. As for what I have found”—he paused, then seemed to force himself to go on—“I believe I have found evidence that someone is systematically looting artifacts from the museum. In some cases, I believe they may be replacing the originals with clever imitations in hopes that the thefts will go undetected that much longer.”
Mrs. Merriweather began to tap her foot. “Have you any proof of this? And if so, just how did you discover it?” she demanded.
Captain Stanfield seemed to choose his words with care. He looked at Ariel. “Er, your father’s keys did not precisely disappear. I took them in hopes of being able to return and investigate on my own, after hours. I looked in some of the storerooms and have seen some things that I cannot believe are genuine.”
Ariel wanted to believe him. With the loss of both Tom and her father, she badly felt the need for something, someone to hold on to and believe in right now. Mrs. Merriweather was clearly more cynical, and in any event, made of far sterner stuff.
“You had the keys,” the former governess said. “And you say that you wished to investigate after hours. Does that mean that you encountered Tom unexpectedly? That perhaps you were the one who killed him?”
“No!”
Captain Stanfield’s shock and indignation seemed genuine. For the first time, Mrs. Merriweather’s suspicions of him seemed to waver. “But you were here that night?”
“I meant to be,” Stanfield admitted. “But another matter required my attention and I did not make it to the museum until morning. You saw me when I arrived. And though we did not discover his body until later, the Runner, Mr. Collins, is convinced that Tom was already dead.” He paused and looked Mrs. Merriweather straight in the eyes. “That is one of the reasons why I feel such a responsibility to discover who killed Tom. If I had come when I intended, perhaps I could have prevented his death.”
Mrs. Merriweather held out her hand. “Give me the keys,” she said.
He shook his head and backed away.
“As proof of your good intentions,” she persisted.
“No. I need them.”
“Need them for what?” a voice asked from the doorway behind all of them. Then, “Marian, what the devil are you and Miss Hawthorne still doing here? I thought I told you both to go back to my aunt’s house! What are you still doing here, bothering the poor boy this way?”
13
For a moment, all anyone could do was gape at the colonel. He came forward and stared hard at Captain Stanfield. “I suppose you work for Thornsby,” he said, and it was not entirely a question.
“Andrew?” Mrs. Merriweather said with some uncertainty.
“Who is Thornsby?” Ariel asked, feeling as though her head were spinning, but determined to know the truth.
Stanfield flushed. He looked as if he wished to be anywhere but where he was. Since that was not possible, he took a deep breath, looked at the colonel, and nodded.
Colonel Merriweather sighed. “I hoped you would come and tell me yourself. I gave you the chance not half an hour ago. But you wouldn’t trust me, would you?”
“If you know that I work for Thornsby, then you know that I could not,” Captain Stanfield replied.
The two men stared at each other again, and this time it was the colonel’s turn to nod his agreement. The two women were not pleased.
“Who is Thornsby?” Ariel repeated, beginning to grow more and more indignant at all these revelations.
“It’s best you don’t know,” both the colonel and Captain Stanfield said at precisely the same moment.
“I suppose you will tell me the same thing?” Mrs. Merriweather demanded of both of them.
The two men nodded, and Ariel could see that the older woman was furious. Well, that made two of them. It was time to let these two men know that they could not continue to prevaricate in such a way.
“If you do not tell me the truth,” she said, “I shall go to the trustees and tell them that both of you are behaving in a most suspicious manner and ought to be banned from the museum premises,” Ariel said, taking a step forward. “And don’t think I am making an idle threat. I have done so before, and they did listen to me.”
Was that approval she saw in Mrs. Merriweather’s eyes? Ariel did not have time to ask. Instead, she continued to glare at the two men. “Well?” she demanded. “Do you mean to tell me the truth, or do I arrange to have you both barred from the museum?”
“If you do so, who will investigate your father’s and Tom’s deaths?” the colonel protested.
“Mrs. Merriweather and I shall do so,” Ariel retorted, not allowing herself to be swayed. “I am certain that between us we can do everything necessary to catch whoever killed my father and Tom.”
That threat worked as the other one had not. Both men began to speak with great haste, and the words seemed almost to tumble over each other.
“Here, now! That wouldn’t be safe! You must leave it to us!”
“You’ve no notion what is going on! The risks you would be taking!”
“We know, er, that is, I think we both know things you and Mrs. Merriweather do not.”
“Marian, be sensible! Tell Miss Hawthorne how foolish she is to say such nonsense!”
Everyone paused long enough to look at Mrs. Merriweather expectantly. She stared from one to the other, then said calmly, “We are waiting, Miss Hawthorne and I, for an explanation. And if we do not get one, I shall go with her to speak to the trustees. And help her to investigate. However much the two of you may wish to keep us out of this, you cannot do so. Neither Miss Hawthorne nor I will allow it.”
The two men looked at each other, not troubling to hide the annoyance they felt. For a moment Ariel thought they were going to blame each other for the situation in which they found themselves. Then they both sighed, and the colonel turned and went out the door. The two women waited. After checking the corridor, Merriweather returned and closed the door so that they could not be overheard.
And then the colonel began to explain. Ariel listened, but took what she heard with some skepticism. For she did not in the least doubt that both men would lie if they felt it would serve their purpose or if they thought they could do so without getting caught.
“We are both, Captain Stanfield and I, here because we were asked to look into a situation at the museum,” Merriweather said. “Stanfield’s, er, superior,
Thornsby, and in my case, Hawthorne, both suspected that someone was stealing artifacts from the museum and wished us to see what we could discover. Is that not correct, Captain Stanfield?”
“Yes, quite correct, Colonel Merriweather, though how you knew about Thornsby—”
“Experience, my boy. Now, Marian, Miss Hawthorne, we believe that the same persons stealing artifacts are responsible for the deaths of Mr. Hawthorne and Tom. Once he sees the artifact, the expert I told you about may be able to give us a starting point for tracking down the thieves.”
“Which artifact?” Captain Stanfield demanded, leaning forward.
Ariel looked at him as if he were a stranger. At the moment, it seemed very much as if he were. She forced aside the hurt and coolly described the statue of the cat, as well as where it was to be found.
Stanfield let out a sigh of frustration and ran his good hand through his hair. “I missed that one! I must send a message to, er, my superior,” he said. “As soon as possible. He must be informed as to what’s been discovered here. And to the fact that you are now all privy to what I am doing here,” he added wryly.
The colonel’s voice was as cool as Miss Hawthorne’s had been. “Oh. I’ve no doubt he will want to know all about this. By all means send him a message.”
“Never mind that,” Mrs. Merriweather said impatiently. “So far, you have told us very little that we did not already know, or at the very least, guessed. What we should like to know is what happens next!”
“What happens next,” both men said together, “is that you ladies go to Lady Merriweather’s house and stay out of things! Leave the investigation to us!”
Ariel wanted to argue. She could see that Mrs. Merriweather did, too. But it was quite evident that they would not be allowed to do anything useful today anyway, so, with poor grace, she moved toward the door.
Over her shoulder she said, “Come, Mrs. Merriweather. Let us leave these men to their games.”
As though they did not trust them, Captain Stanfield and the colonel escorted Ariel and Mrs. Merriweather ! out of the museum. There they handed both ladies into the Merriweathers’ carriage and the colonel directed his coachman to drive them straight to Lady Merriweather’s town house.
As the carriage pulled forward, Mrs. Merriweather patted Ariel’s hand. “You may as well get used to how men think, my dear. They are forever trying to protect us when they ought to be asking our advice.”
“I do not like it,” Ariel retorted.
Mrs. Merriweather smiled, and it was not a pleasant smile. “I do not like it either, my dear. Nor will the colonel be entirely happy with the results of his decree. But for now, we may as well accept what we cannot change.”
That was all very well, Ariel thought, but it still did not make her happy. She consoled herself by telling herself that at least nothing further was likely to go wrong today. She found, however, when they got to the town house, that she had been mistaken.
Lady Merriweather was waiting and in alt. She seemed scarcely to notice that in one hand she held a novel and on her nose was perched a pair of spectacles even less flattering than Ariel’s. All her attention was focused on the note in her hand.
“My dear,” she said to Ariel, “you cannot know the treat in store for you!”
Ariel stared at her hostess, as much astonished at the sight of the spectacles as by Lady Merriweather’s words. Alerted by the younger woman’s stare, Lady Merri- weather snatched the spectacles from her nose and peered nearsightedly at Ariel and Mrs. Merriweather. She also hid her novel, the latest rage in London, behind her back.
“Sly puss, why didn’t you tell me you were on such terms with Lady Jersey?” Lady Merriweather demanded.
“What terms?” Ariel asked, completely bewildered.
“Such terms that Sally Jersey has chosen to hold a small gathering in your honor tonight! The invitation just arrived this hour past, and I accepted for all of us.”
“But I am in mourning,” Ariel protested.
“You will not be in mourning forever,” Lady Merriweather snapped in reply. “And of all people, Sally Jersey is most likely to remember any real or imagined insult. This is to be a quiet evening; no dancing, no music or other entertainments, nothing more than a quiet evening among friends. Lady Jersey wrote that she has chosen to invite only people who knew your father, Miss Hawthorne. She says that she understands you have not been able to stay at your own home and receive callers who wish to express their sympathies to you, and so she thought she would provide an opportunity for them to do so, at her house, tonight.”
“How kind of her,” Mrs. Merriweather murmured. “I wonder how she knew Miss Hawthorne was here?”
“I don’t know how she knew Miss Hawthorne was here,” Lady Merriweather said with some exasperation. “But it does not signify! What does matter is that Lady Jersey has gone to a great deal of trouble, in a very short time, and it would be foolish to snub her for doing so. And if Lady Jersey thinks it proper for Miss Hawthorne to attend, then it cannot possibly be improper.”
More bewildered than ever, Ariel looked to Mrs. Merriweather for support and advice. “What shall I do?”
Mrs. Merriweather hesitated, as well she might, Ariel thought. But in the end she nodded slowly. “Perhaps it might be considered not a party but rather just a wish to provide you with some comfort, and in that event, it would indeed be churlish to refuse. If we are mistaken, it will be a simple matter to leave at once. But I confess I am curious to know what is behind Lady Jersey’s kindness.”
“Kindness?” Ariel recoiled from the word. “You call it kindness that she expects me to come and talk with people, some of whom I may not know, when all my thoughts are upon my father’s and Tom’s death? When I wish nothing more than to either curl up in my room alone, or to investigate and find out who did such a horrible thing!”
“Yes, kindness, and you should be grateful for Lady Jersey’s condescension!” Lady Merriweather said sharply.
Ariel looked from one to the other. Lady Merriweather displayed only impatience. Mrs. Merriweather, however, had a thoughtful look upon her face, and Ariel began to waver. Mrs. Merriweather seemed at once to sense the change in her. She reached out, took Ariel’s arm, and gripped it with unmistakable urgency.
“Come, my dear. Let us go upstairs and choose which gown you will wear,” the former governess said soothingly. “Not that the mantua maker had that many to send home with us yesterday, but you will wish to look your best, and you will wish to wear something that clearly signals your state of mind. Be sensible, my dear,” she added when Ariel would have protested further. “You did say that your father did not wish you to go into mourning. If the people Lady Jersey has invited know that, they will be astonished at your impertinence in disregarding his wishes by not showing up!”
“But Mrs. Merriweather—” Ariel began.
Mrs. Merriweather gave her no chance to say more but started up the stairs, speaking straight over Ariel’s voice. “Your deepest blue, I think. Or perhaps the very dark green silk will do. No jewelry, unless there are some ear bobs your father gave you that you have an attachment for? No? Then, as I said, no jewelry. Dark gloves, I think. How fortunate that we went shopping yesterday! Come along, dear. We haven’t a moment to waste.” Ariel looked at Lady Merriweather, who looked ready to ring a peal over her head, then at the former governess, and decided to follow her upstairs. She sighed. There was a time to do battle, but right now she was too tired to fight this one. Besides, she found herself quite curious to know just why Mrs. Merriweather was so in favor of going.
And after all, if she misliked the looks of things when they got to Lady Jersey’s house, Ariel told herself, she would simply find a quiet corner and stay there for the entire evening. And no one was going to change her mind about that!
Upstairs, however, she ventured to ask Mrs. Merriweather, “Why do you seem so eager to go tonight?” The former governess smiled, but it was a very grim smile. “I think it odd,” sh
e said, “that Lady Jersey should go to such trouble for you, and upon such short notice. I cannot help but wonder if someone asked her to do so. If so, I think we may be certain the person will be there tonight and perhaps we may discover why. We may also discover whether your father confided his concerns about the museum to anyone else. And we may see whether anyone shows an unnatural interest in what you may know of your father’s thoughts.”
Ariel nodded. “Yes,” she said slowly. “I see. But why would anyone think that I know anything?”
“We asked questions today at the museum. Perhaps someone even saw us yesterday in the storage room with the statue of the cat. Or perhaps it has to do with whatever reason caused someone to be at your house the day ii3
your father died. Someone, that day, was after something, and that someone may believe that you know where it is.”
Again Ariel nodded. She watched as Mrs. Merriweather went through the new dresses and chose one for Ariel to wear. “Here, this will suit you admirably. Dark enough to not offend the sensibilities of those who do believe in mourning, but not so grim as to offend those who know your father forbade you to go into blacks. And flattering enough to draw Captain Stanfield’s eyes, should he be there, as well.”
“C-captain Stanfield?” Ariel stammered.
Mrs. Merriweather paused and looked at the younger woman. “Yes, Captain Stanfield. You cannot pretend you are indifferent to the fellow, for I have seen how you look at him. And how he looks at you.”
Miss Tibbles Interferes Page 11
