Lord Edward's Mysterious Treasure

by Lillian Marek

  Ned’s voice was calling her. It seemed to come from a great distance. She kept running.

  “Stop it, Marguerite. You have to stop.”

  An arm—Ned’s arm—wrapped around her and pulled her hard against him. She looked around and realized that she was outside now. The wind whipped her hair free of its pins and strands lashed her face and her eyes. The hair in her eyes must be what was causing the tears.

  He pulled her close to him and held her head against his shoulder with one hand while the other gently rubbed her back.

  “Stop that,” she said, her voice muffled against his coat. “You are treating me like a small animal. A pet.” But she did not lift her head. She could feel his smile against her hair. Was that possible?

  He did not remove his hands, but he allowed her to pull back enough to stand by herself while he studied her face. “You are feeling more yourself, then,” he said.

  A foolish remark. Who else could she be?

  She tried to turn away, but he turned her face back to him. “It cannot be a surprise,” he said. “You suspected… we both suspected.”

  “But suspecting isn’t the same as knowing. So long as it is just suspicion, there is always hope.” She closed her eyes. “And until I told you, you did not even suspect.”

  “Marguerite…” He tightened his hands on her shoulders. “Did I suspect that she was trying to poison Tony? No, of course not. But did I think that there was something wrong with her? At first I thought she was just childish, but recently—yes, I began to think there was something seriously wrong about her.”

  “Childish, yes. Delphine is such a child. She may not have realized how dangerous these seeds, this corn cockle, could be. Such a silly name, corn cockle. How could she think it deadly? She may have thought the seeds would just make people ill.”

  She opened her eyes to see Ned looking at her with pity in his eyes. She hated pity, and lifted her chin, which made him smile.

  “That’s better,” he said. “Now think back. When her uncle died, how did she react? Was she horrified? Frightened?”

  The memory came back—Delphine looking up from her needlework when her mother came to break the news. “Then he cannot make me go back to the school,” she had said with a smile, and went back to her needlework.

  “No.” Marguerite drew the word out. “No. She was not horrified. She was not even upset. How could we not have noticed how strange that was?”

  Suddenly she was furious, at she knew not what. “How could we not notice?” She began to beat on his chest with her fists. “Why didn’t we notice? Why didn’t we see that something was dreadfully wrong?”

  Ned’s hands rested gently on her shoulders, and he didn’t even try to stop her. He just let her beat away at him until she collapsed against him in tears. “You said it yourself. You all thought she was childish, just as I did. No one would be likely to think anything else. No one would want to think anything else.”

  They began walking. She felt so safe walking with his arm around her shoulders. It was frightening how safe it felt. She did not want to think about how soon it must end, how soon they would have to part, so she put her arm around his waist to be closer.

  “The next thing we must do,” he began.

  She straightened up, not having expected the farewell to come so soon.

  “The next thing we must do,” he continued, “is to see if there are any more bottles of tonic floating around.”

  “Tonic?” That was not what she had expected, and her confusion made her feel a bit stupid.

  “Yes. Dr. Fernac may have some on hand, and Tony may have an extra. If the tonic is something the good doctor frequently hands out to patients, the housekeeper may have a few bottles tucked away in the pantry. We can’t assume any of them are safe so we need to get rid of any we find.”

  She stopped, and he looked at her in surprise. Formality. She needed formality. There was no other way she would be able to say what she must say. He would not say it himself, but it must be said. “Lord Edward, this is very kind of you, and I can never thank you enough for the help you have given me, but I think it is time for you to leave.”

  “Leave?” He seemed confused. Did he not realize that she was setting him free?

  “Yes, leave. You have found the treasure for your friend, and he is safe now. No more harm will come to him. You need have no worry on that score.”

  He folded his arms and shook his head at her. “You really are the most ridiculous creature, Marguerite. You left out the most important thing of all.”

  Now she was confused. What had she forgotten?

  “You forgot your promise to marry me.” He took her arm to lead her into the house. “Now we need to get to work and find tonic and then see if your little cousin has a cache of those blasted seeds hidden anywhere.”

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Ned had taken charge and she had let him. Marguerite was not entirely sure how this had happened. She should not have allowed it—that much she knew. Delphine was her responsibility, not his.

  But it was so much easier when he stepped in. If he asked Tony for any extra bottles of tonic, Tony just handed them over without demanding an explanation. When he asked the housekeeper, she immediately retrieved her bottles from the pantry and gave them to him. Even the doctor said nothing other than that he had no bottles at the chateau.

  If she had asked, she would have had to say—what? What reason could she possibly have given for wanting the bottles? Would any excuse have been believable? But all Ned had to do was ask. Was it because he was an aristocrat? Or because he was a man? Or, perhaps, because he was Ned, and they all knew him well enough to trust him.

  But Tante Héloise—Marguerite could not believe it.

  When they reached Delphine’s room, the older woman had just stopped out into the corridor where Horace was waiting, as if on guard. She held up a hand. “Hush. I have just gotten her to sleep.”

  Leaving Horace by the door, she led them into her own room before she questioned them. “What has happened? She was quite hysterical when I found her, and I could get no sense from her. She seemed to think the treasure had been stolen?”

  “The treasure?” Marguerite was taken aback at first. “Ah, yes, of course. It was the treasure that Delphine would have been thinking about.”

  “But is that not what you have been spending all your time seeking?” Tante Héloise sounded exasperated. “What else would upset the girl?”

  Ned intervened then. “Yes, Madame, she would be upset about the treasure. When we found it, it proved to be a medieval reliquary, a wooden bust containing a relic of Saint Mael.” He smiled slightly. “It seems it was the treasure of the town of Morvan, not the family.”

  “Ah!” Tante Héloise was taken aback at first. She had doubtless been making the same assumptions about the treasure as everyone else. Then she shook her head and gave a sad little laugh. “No gold, no jewels—she must have been distressed indeed. It is just as well that I gave her some laudanum. At least she will sleep for a while, and we can hope that she will be calmer when she awakens.”

  “Unfortunately, her disappointment is not the real problem we face.” No one seeing Ned’s face could doubt his seriousness.

  Tante Héloise shrugged dismissively. “Do not distress yourself. I know how to manage her. When she awakens, she may not even remember her disappointment. I will suggest a new way of dressing her hair, or a new trim for a gown, and she will cease to think about the treasure. It is very easy to distract that one.”

  “I am afraid that will not be enough,” he said. “She has become dangerous.”

  Tante Héloise made a dismissive noise, but before she could speak, Marguerite interrupted. “She has been poisoning Tony.”

  The older woman turned in astonishment. “Poisoning…? That is impossible.”

  “I wish it were.”

  “The tonic he has been taking,” Ned said. “Poisonous seeds were added to it.”

  “And you
think Delphine did this? Impossible. How would she even know? She is just a child.”

  Marguerite reached out to touch her aunt’s arm. “Tante Héloise, do you remember when her uncle came? She used to give him his tonic. The symptoms were the same.”

  “But he died. No. No.” The old woman shook her head, but she had grown pale, terribly pale. “She could not do such a thing. You must be mistaken.”

  “I wish I were, Madame,” Ned said, “but the chemist from the pharmacy in the village confirmed it.”

  Tante Héloise seemed to shrink and age right before their eyes. Ned put an arm around her shoulders and seated her by the fireplace. Marguerite added some wood to the fire. They all waited for the flames to catch.

  Tante Héloise broke the silence. “I do not understand how this could be possible. What would she know of poisons?”

  “Corn cockle. It was corn cockle, agrostemme,” Marguerite said.

  “Agrostemme?” Her aunt frowned. “There was a boy, a few years ago…the bread… It was in all the papers. But that was an accident.”

  Ned shook his head. “In flour, it could be an accident. But not in the tonic. Madame, we must search her things to see if she has any more of the seeds.”

  Tante Héloise was staring into the fire. “How could I not have realized?” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I knew there was something wrong. She could be selfish and vain, tiresome…but this?”

  “Madame,” Ned broke in.

  “Yes, yes.” She waved a hand without looking away from the flames. “Do what you will. What you must.”

  The search was not even difficult. Horace remained by the door, not questioning their entrance—he never questioned anything—and Delphine herself was immobile in her drugged sleep. They had barely begun to search when Marguerite found the bottle tucked in the drawer that held the girl’s stockings.

  She held it up and Ned took it from her. He pulled out the cork and poured a few of the seeds into the palm of his hand. They were unmistakable—twisted and covered with tiny prickles.

  “She didn’t even try to hide them.” Disbelief, not fear of awakening Delphine, kept Marguerite’s voice down to a whisper.

  Ned glanced over at the girl, lying so serenely on the pillows. “I don’t know if she truly realized she was doing something wrong.” He put the cork back in the bottle and went to the tall window, which opened onto a small balcony. It looked out on nothing but the sea and space. An odd place for a balcony, he thought, but useful for his purpose.

  He stepped out, and with one smooth motion he threw the bottle far out to sea. Against the gray clouds it was just a dark patch, rising into the air, then descending to vanish silently into the waves.

  It traveled a long distance through the air. So had the tonic bottles that he’d disposed of earlier.

  He was much stronger than she had first thought, seeing him in the loose-fitting garments he seemed to prefer. So much of his appearance was deceptive. He was quiet and reserved, almost diffident, until something more was needed. Then he stepped forward to take charge, to take care of everything and everyone in need of care.

  She could not believe how much she loved him. Would she ever be able to tell him? Would she dare?

  They were on their way to the drawing room when she suddenly realized. “Ned! The seeds, the tonic—they were evidence. Now they are gone. How can I convince people that she cannot be allowed…that she has… The authorities will never believe me. Tony will think I am the one who is mad.”

  “We are not going to involve any authorities and we are not going to tell Tony anything.” He turned her to face him and rested his forehead against hers. “Tony is safe now, but if we tell him she has been poisoning him, we can’t be sure how he will react. He may insist that she be locked up in an asylum. We need to take care of her ourselves. There is no need for authorities. If she poisoned her uncle…”

  She tried to interrupt, but he put a finger on her lips. “If she poisoned him, there is no way to prove it any longer. We have only suspicion. And she has not poisoned Tony—he will be fine now. We will take care of her, and everyone will be safe. Even Delphine.”

  He smiled, and she almost believed that he could make it all come true.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  When Tony cornered them the next morning, it was obvious that his health was no longer a matter for concern. He had been searching for them, and was almost bouncing with delight.

  “Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  Since he had been in Marguerite’s bed, Ned did not want to answer that question, and he didn’t want her to succumb to a fit of honesty and answer it either. But he needn’t have worried. Tony wasn’t interested in an answer.

  “I told the old man what we found, and he was ecstatic. He knew that was what it was all along. Can you believe it?” Tony was striding around the library enthusiastically, paying no attention to his audience. “He knew what it was. He didn’t tell us because he was afraid we wouldn’t search for it. And he isn’t nearly as senile as we thought. He perked up as soon as I told him we’d found it.”

  “That is good to know,” Marguerite said politely.

  “Well, I confess I wanted to shake him when I realized. But he has promised to make up the rest of the funding we need for the steel works, so all is well.” Tony paused uncertainly. “I say, Delphine isn’t going to cut up rough over this, is she? About not having a treasure to restore the chateau?”

  “There’s no need for you to worry about Delphine. She will be fine.” Ned smiled, a trifle stiffly, and squeezed Marguerite’s hand to keep her still.

  “Well, if you’re sure…” Tony’s uncertainty vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “In any case, I need to send a telegram to let Georges know we are set. And then I must go down to the village.”

  Tony grinned. “It seems I can’t just pick up that thing and haul it down to the church. The esteemed patriarch feels that some ceremony is necessary. I must speak to the mayor and the priest so that they can come to receive it from his hands.” Tony rolled his eyes, but did not really seem upset. He was probably too delighted to have his financial worries relieved. “We must all be dressed in our finest, preferably draped in decorations, for the formal transfer—and that includes you. I told him you were the one who started us hunting for rosettes, and he will probably want to present you with some sort of reward.”

  “That is nonsense,” Ned protested.

  “Too late for objections. Your contribution has already been noted.” Tony turned to leave, but paused. “Oh, by the way, this came for you.” He handed Ned a telegram before he left.

  A telegram? To say Ned was startled would be an understatement. He fingered the envelope nervously. Like many people, he thought of telegrams as harbingers of disaster. Why else would someone need to communicate with him so urgently?

  “As you pointed out to me when I was hesitating over my letter, the only way to know what it says is to open it and read it,” Marguerite said.

  The worry eased as he looked at her. She was smiling, and he did not think she had ever teased him before. If she was now that comfortable with him, how bad could the news in the telegram be?

  So he opened it.

  “Ned? Ned?” Her voice seemed to be coming from a long way off. “What is it? Is it your family? Is someone ill?”

  He recovered himself enough to manage a smile. “No, or rather yes. It is my family, but they are well. In fact, my parents have just been in Paris.” He looked at the telegram again and took a deep breath. “And they have decided to pay me a visit.”

  “A visit?” Marguerite lost her smile. “Here?”

  “Yes, here.” He looked uncertain. “They probably plan to stay in a hotel.”

  “Pftt.” She waved a dismissive hand. “That is ridiculous. Impossible. There are no hotels here. I doubt that the village boasts so much as rooms above a tavern. They will stay at the chateau. I will tell the servants. When do they arrive?”


  He looked back at the telegram, just in case he had completely misread the message. He hadn’t. “Tomorrow. They arrive tomorrow.”

  She grew a bit paler, but nodded. “Tomorrow. I see.” She started to leave.

  “Marguerite,” he called. When she turned back to him, he said, “They will love you, Marguerite. You will see.”

  “Did you tell them about me, then?”

  “That we are going to be married? No, I thought that was something that should be said in person.” He did not like her smile—it was too disbelieving, too cynical. But he persisted. “But of course I have told them about you, and everyone else here at the château. It is just that my mother has a habit of jumping to conclusions on very little evidence.”

  “Unwarranted conclusions?”

  “No,” he acknowledged wryly. “She is right more often than not.”

  Marguerite shook her head gently. “Which do you think is more likely, that your parents would come racing here to make the acquaintance of a woman they would welcome as a bride for their son? Or that they would come racing to rescue him from an unacceptable entanglement? No, do not answer that.”

  His increasing panic had nothing to do with the imminent arrival of his parents. She was withdrawing—he could feel it. He grabbed her by the shoulders to pull her to him. She did not resist, but neither did she respond. He had to keep himself from shaking some sense into her.

  “Marguerite, you are going to marry me. You gave your word.”

  He did not think he had ever seen anything as sad as the smile on her face as she pulled back to leave. “We shall see what your parents say.”

  This was the end, then. She had not expected it so soon. She had thought there would be more time. But it was probably just as well. She was starting to depend on him too much.

  When his parents arrived, he would see how impossible it was. She was a musician who played in public concerts, from a family of musicians who did the same. She had charge of a cousin who was clearly mad, an elderly quasi-aunt and a simpleminded servant. She had to earn a living to support all of them.