The Attenbury Emeralds

by Jill Paton Walsh

  Harriet shuddered at various vivid recollections from the passenger seat, and said nothing. Peter patted the back of her hand where it rested on his forearm, as if he could sympathise. The two walked on in companionable silence for a while. They reached Hyde Park Corner. Peter said, ‘Would you like tea at the Ritz? Just because I married you shouldn’t put an end to flamboyant assignations.’

  ‘Will there be real Darjeeling tea?’ asked Harriet.

  ‘Certainly there will. The world has not yet gone to hell in a handcart. And delectably thin cucumber sandwiches. Do say yes, Harriet, I’m freezing in the open air. Be like Great Anna whom three realms obey.’

  ‘Gladly, my lord,’ said Harriet.

  ‘I always think I have been behaving somehow ridiculously when you call me that, my lady,’ said Peter.

  They ordered tea with cucumber sandwiches, and maids of honour, and settled comfortably at a corner table with a glimpse across the terrace to the trees of the park.

  ‘It almost seems as though the war never happened, here,’ said Harriet. ‘It’s a good place to tell me fairy stories about the world before.’

  ‘Before the war?’

  ‘Before I met you.’

  ‘Where was I?’

  ‘You had unmannerly departed without taking leave of the then Sergeant Parker.’

  ‘I asked him to lunch with me the following week. To talk about Athanasius, you understand. But I learned from him that the person who had shopped me to Inspector Sugg was the wretched girl Jeannette. She had warned him when he tried a second time to bully her into confessing that every word he said was being overheard by his betters. He had the linen room locked immediately, though too late.’

  ‘So Charles kept quiet about you. I’m glad. What happened to Jeannette?’

  ‘Attenbury bailed her on his surety. And my mother found her a job with an elderly cousin, in need of companionship. One of Uncle Paul’s many ramificating relations. And in France. Out of the way of English spite.’

  ‘What about her young man?’

  ‘Joined her in France. Don’t know how they fared in the war. Must ask my mother. She’ll know.’

  ‘So have you been pals with Charles ever since?’

  ‘Pretty much. It was very occasional at first. Then as I got involved in more cases, and he got involved with my sister it took off to the heights at which you see it now.’

  ‘Before we get to more cases, I surmise that there must be more to the famous first one you are telling me about. Because your account so far makes it fall rather short of the sort of thing that makes a man renowned as an apprehender of jewel thieves.’

  ‘Sorry. Lack of refined narrative skills, I fear. Before I left Fennybrook, I told Claire Attenbury that the “paste” necklace in her jewel box was actually the real one. But, alas, the king-stone that had gone missing was also the real one. I have to say that those Attenburys were very offhand about the whole thing. None of them actually liked the king-stone much. The rivière could always be sent to Cartier’s and adapted to be worn without it. It was still a spectacular showy thing. And there was insurance money; made me quite cross with them.’

  ‘You wanted to know who had taken it? To be certain. To have cleared it up.’

  ‘Of course. And then a strange thing happened. One evening, about, I suppose, five weeks after the house-party, when everyone but me had stopped worrying about it, I imagine, except poor Sugg whose superiors had presumably given him a flea in his ear, Bunter came up to me in the library, and presented me with a card from Mr Nandine Osmanthus. Might he take up a few minutes of my valuable time? Of course I had him shown up.

  ‘Bunter fetched drinks, but Osmanthus demurred at speaking with Bunter present. He would be grateful for a word with me privately. Well, I don’t like Bunter left in the dark. It seems to me to be uncivil to imply that a fellow’s manservant might not be discreet. We had an arrangement, Bunter and I, in which on a nod from me he would withdraw, and then stand behind the section of the bookcase which was a disguised door through to the drawing-room. He could hear every word from there, and it was useful when I wanted his pin-sharp memory. He was as good as a secretary taking dictation without having to write it down.

  ‘So when the visitor had a drink in his hand and had settled in the best armchair, I gave Bunter the nod. And Osmanthus embarked on his errand. A lot of pleasantries first – wonderful flat, fine show of books, glad to see a good piano – that sort of thing. Take that as read.

  ‘I offered him sympathy over his having been arrested, and on having his premises searched, and hoped it had not been too unpleasant an experience.

  ‘“These things happen,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

  ‘“And Inspector Sugg’s men did not find your own jewel and mistake it for the stolen one? I was afraid that might happen.”

  ‘“The Maharaja’s jewel is in a place of safety,” he said.

  ‘I said I was glad of that.

  ‘Then he said, “I had an unexpected visitor yesterday, Lord Peter. And what he told me has worried me very much. Oh, yes indeed. The short and the long is that I don’t know what is to be done. I would like your advice.”

  ‘“My advice is free and freely given, old chap,” I said, in what I hoped was an encouraging tone.

  ‘“You see, Lord Peter, although I am used to mixing with the highest class of people in my own country, I am not intimately acquainted with the way things are done in English aristocratic families. Not at all. So you see, I am at sea, afraid to put my foot in it as they say. But –” and here he raised his voice, and slapped the arm of his chair emphatically with the hand not holding his port – “it does not seem right to me! That poor young lady!”

  ‘“What poor young lady?” I asked him.

  ‘“The young Lady Charlotte, of course,” he said, sounding surprised.

  ‘“Start at the beginning, won’t you, Mr Osmanthus,” I said. “Who was the visitor who perturbed you so?”

  ‘“It was Mr Reginald Northerby,” he said.

  ‘“Aha,” said I. “And what did that gentleman want with you, Mr Osmanthus?”

  ‘“He wanted to sell me the king-stone from the Attenbury emeralds!” said Osmanthus.

  ‘“Did he though? And what did you reply to him?”

  ‘“I told him that my master, the Maharaja, wished to acquire not merely the stone itself, but good title to it. He would have nothing to do with trafficking in stolen goods. Not at all; not in any way at all. But, Lord Peter, Mr Northerby replied to me that the stone had not been stolen. It would be his to dispose of as soon as his marriage to Lady Charlotte took place, and he merely wanted to advance by a few weeks the transaction. The stone would be handed over in exchange for a cash-down deposit of a fraction of its value – should we say one-third of the money? The rest to be paid when the sale could be completed. There was a condition however. That was that the arrangement between us must be secret, and must remain so. Any leak of information would result in the sale being aborted, and the stone would then be put beyond our reach. In short, he would make sure that the Maharaja never acquired it.

  ‘“Lord Peter, I was thunderstruck!”

  ‘I was pretty thunderstruck myself.

  ‘“Lord Peter, what am I to do?” he asked me.

  ‘“He gave you to understand that he had the stone?”

  ‘“It was in his pocket, Lord Peter. He showed it to me.”

  ‘“I take it you sent him packing?”

  ‘“Oh, yes indeed!”

  ‘“I don’t quite see what the problem is. Are you asking me if you should go to the police?”

  ‘“I could go to the police. Then the stone would be returned into the hands of a family who have said they would never sell it to my master. Or I could sit on my hands, as you say, and wait for the marriage to take place, and then attempt to buy the stone. From the new owner. I take it that after the marriage Mr Northerby would be the owner?”

  ‘“I think the emerald
s are heirlooms, Mr Osmanthus. Lady Charlotte would still be the owner.”

  ‘“But young brides will do what their husbands tell them? As in my country they would…”

  ‘“Hmm,” I said. “An English woman might not be reliably subservient. But in the early months of a marriage, perhaps…” I was thinking aloud.

  ‘“I have come to ask you, Lord Peter, if you think I should tell Lord Attenbury who has got the jewel. Or do you think I should keep quiet while the young lady marries a thief? If I had not been strictly instructed to play above board in every way, I could of course arrange for the jewel to be taken from him by a cut-throat in a back alley. But the matter of the young lady’s future happiness and honour would be unresolved.”

  ‘“Why are you telling me all this?” I asked. “Since it imperils your chance of buying the jewel from Northerby.”

  ‘“There is the young lady to consider. I would like to leave it in your hands,” he said. “It is very clear you are a trusted friend of the Attenbury family. You will have the ears of his lordship. You will know best what to do.”

  ‘“Thank you,” I said. “I will think about it.”

  ‘It was tricky one, Harriet. If he went to the police with his story, it would be bound to involve unpleasantness for the family. And I rather agreed with him about young Charlotte marrying a thief. I thanked him for being concerned about Charlotte’s honour; and I suggested that he leave Mr Northerby to me. Would you like more tea, or shall we potter off home?’

  ‘I’ve had enough tea, thank you, Peter. Can we go home via Hatchard’s? There’s a book I’d like to find.’

  ‘Certainly,’ said Peter. ‘Who am I to come between an author and a book?’

  They wandered along Piccadilly together, and as they went they talked of other things.

  7

  Harriet took up the subject again as they drank sherry before dinner. ‘So what did you do about the dishonest Mr Northerby?’ she asked Peter.

  ‘I thought a good deal about Sergeant Parker’s view of things. And I came to the conclusion, very reluctantly, I am ashamed to remember how reluctantly, Harriet, that I had a bounden duty to tell the police if I knew the whereabouts of stolen goods.’

  ‘Why were you so reluctant?’

  ‘Well, for a start I had come to feel very wary of Mr Osmanthus. It was touching, and all that, that he should be so concerned about Charlotte’s welfare, considering that as far as I knew he had never met her. Of course, I could read his message. People of his class, he was letting me know, would stick up for the reputation of people of class anywhere. And the assumption was that I would do the same. Lord Attenbury’s interests would be my main concern; any interest in the wider scene, like the need of society for justice, would be secondary. I would, as he would, wish to preserve Charlotte from marriage to a rogue, but also to preserve her from the shame of having been engaged to a rogue. He expected me to have a quiet word with Northerby, and get the jewel back, and hush everything up. As Charles had so pertinently asked me, whose interests would I act in?

  ‘Well, Peter?’

  ‘I’m afraid I didn’t do anything for a day or two. Paralysis set in. I think, you know, it was the earliest example of that nausea you know all too well. I love the fun of the chase; I had been feeling top-hole all through the uproar about jewels; I had been feeling pretty triumphant at having worked it out. You know that feeling, Harriet – this is what I’m good for, this is what I can do! But when it comes to someone trapped and suffering, someone going to prison, or, worst of all, someone hanging, then I feel as sick as I ever felt ordering men out of the trenches and over the top. So you see, I didn’t fancy doing what I clearly ought to do. I went all pitiful and shaky and went back to bed.’

  ‘For how long,’ said Harriet sternly, ‘did you go to bed?’

  ‘Two days. On the first day my mother dropped in to see me, and talked and talked about the Attenbury wedding, and how peaky she thought Charlotte was looking, and how oddly Lady Attenbury was behaving, when she should have been delighted, and how she, my mother, would have been delighted had either of her younger children shown any sign of doing their duty and getting married like everybody else’s children, and how Gerald had at least got married, even if his choice of wife was somewhat arguable and as I had the whole world to choose from and needn’t be bound by the sort of considerations that obtained for eldest sons, she thought I might have been able to find a jolly chorus girl with a heart of gold to gladden her heart by talking vulgarly at table, and shocking Helen; and how she couldn’t understand what the fuss was about a stolen gem when the Attenburys were dripping all over with jewellery, and could spare a rock or two better than any family in London; it was of course distressing to lose a jewel, but they should count themselves lucky, when there were families all over London who hadn’t got more than one or two jewels, and who really couldn’t afford to lose one.’

  Harriet laughed. And then a shadow crossed her face as she thought of her adored mother-in-law, now very old and frail, and able to rattle on for only half the time she used to.

  ‘After a bit of this, I managed to get up and sit by the fire in my dressing-gown, and have a bite of supper brought up to me. And the next day, I would have been in bed, only Freddy just happened to call by.’

  ‘Good for Bunter!’ said Harriet.

  ‘Yes, indeed. So I dragged myself into a dressing-gown, and staggered through into the library, and there was Freddy waiting for me, stuffing his face with Bunter’s excellent cheese straws.

  ‘“What news on the Rialto?” I said.

  ‘“The usual chatter,” he told me. “But one little morsel will have you pricking up your ears, Wimsey, and that’s that Northerby seems to be in funds. He’s been paying off his debts. One pal of mine has been nearly ill with anxiety because Northerby owes him a chunk of money and he was afraid it wouldn’t get repaid in time to get him out of some hot water of his own. He’s been leaning on Northerby rather desperately, I understand, without result. Then suddenly last week Northerby showed up at his place and paid him off in cash. Dozens of lovely large crisp white fivers. What do you think of that?”

  ‘“I think of pawnbrokers,” I said.

  ‘“He could always have had a little help from his father in Darjeeling,” said Freddy doubtfully. “Although as I hear tell the tea traders are having a rather tight time at the moment. Something to do with the weather in the Himalayan foothills.”

  ‘“We don’t know a thing about the circumstances of Northerby senior,” said I.

  ‘“No. Shouldn’t jump to conclusions, I suppose.”

  ‘“What’s a jumped-to conclusion or two between friends?” I said. “But back to pawnbrokers, Freddy. We would be looking for a specialist, I take it? Or a shady one?”

  ‘“Hmm,” said Freddy. “Not quite my field. Never needed the friends at the golden balls myself.”

  ‘“Of course not,” I said. “Didn’t mean to imply…Let’s ask Bunter.”

  ‘“Have you been paying your man so little he might be pawning your silver, Wimsey?”

  ‘“That’s a very good idea, Freddy,” I said. “I’ll take you up on that,” and I rang for Bunter.’

  Matching word to deeds, Peter rang for Bunter as he spoke.

  When Bunter appeared, Peter asked him, ‘Bunter, do you remember that game of hunt-the-pawnbroker that we played in the summer of ’21?’

  ‘I will never forget it, my lord,’ said Bunter.

  ‘Explain to Harriet, will you, while you refill our glasses. And a glass for yourself, Bunter, if you feel inclined.’

  Harriet noticed with a twinge of affection for Bunter that he did not feel inclined. She had long given up trying to convince him to behave informally with them, to understand that the age of iron distinctions between servants and family was over, that the war had obliterated that alongside much else. Bunter was more comfortable maintaining a degree of formality, especially, she noticed, in the drawing-room. If one wanted an inti
mate chat with Bunter, one went to look for him in the butler’s pantry, his own ground.

  ‘Pawnbroking is an arcane business, my lady. It’s one kind of business pawning a working man’s Sunday clothes every Monday to be redeemed on the following Saturday. It’s another thing altogether to be taking in a wealthy man’s goods for a high sum. For that the broker would need to be very knowledgeable, not to risk paying out more than the goods were worth. Because a person does not have to redeem his goods. He can walk away with the money in his pocket and never be seen again. There are only a few pawnbrokers in London who would be able to take on goods of very high value. And then again, you see, my lady, if the goods were to turn out to be stolen, the broker would just have lost the stake. It would be repossessed without repaying him. So one would have to be very careful, unless what one had in mind was passing the job over to the underworld immediately.’

  ‘Surely a pawnbroker wouldn’t like to be a fence for some famous jewel like that emerald?’ Harriet asked.

  ‘People will take risks for large sums of money,’ Peter said.

  ‘There are several ships a day from Harwich to the Hook of Holland, my lady,’ said Bunter, ‘and many expert gem-cutters in Amsterdam.’

  ‘I had rather thought, if I understood it correctly, that the special virtue of that king-stone was the carving; that it would be reduced to nothing special if it were re-cut.’

  ‘It would be reduced,’ said Bunter, ‘to a handful of small stones, of very fine quality pure green, each of which would be worth a tidy sum. Each of which would make a fine ring, for instance.’

  ‘I see,’ said Harriet. ‘So Peter despatched you to find a pawnbroker with a guilty secret.’

  ‘We set a sprat to catch a mackerel,’ said Peter. ‘I reckoned we needed to find a pawnbroker who was willing to take things of very high value. Someone in a position to lend tidy sums of money – none of your two-and-sixpence-till-Saturday people.’

  ‘Although as it turned out,’ said Bunter, ‘they were not necessarily two establishments working at different levels, but one and the same, depending on who came in. The high-value merchants were discreetly working behind windows full of boots, suits and gewgaws. But Mr Arbuthnot mentioning silver gave his lordship the idea; we zipped up to Bredon Hall and borrowed a Tudor jewel from the Dowager Duchess.’