by Joan Smith
“We’re hoping to raise twenty thousand pounds,” she said.
“All this kept in one place, I hope it’s well guarded,” he said with an air of concern.
“Oh it’s guarded day and night,” she assured him, and mentioned the precautions Black had taken. The footman on duty in the garden came and peered in the window. Seeing Miss Lipman, he felt all was well and went to peek behind the bushes for lurkers.
Vance went to the outer door, looked around the yard, then tried the door. “Locked up right and tight, I see. Not that that would do much good when the door has all these glass panes. Easy enough to break a pane, reach in and unlock the door.”
“Clever of you to think of that, but the door is always guarded. And of course there’s the jewelry to worry about as well. Some lovely pieces we’ve been given. Lady Clare is donating a diamond necklace worth five thousand pounds. Her son was supposed to be having the auction ball, but he was killed in some horrid accident, so she’s donating it in his honour.”
“I don’t see the jewelry,” he said, looking around. “Where is it kept?”
“In the safe with Lady Luten’s own jewelry.”
“I wager her ladyship has some pieces worth a good deal.”
“Oh certainly. Perhaps we should be getting back, Vance.”
“We really should, or the Prancer will be after us.”
“You shouldn’t call him that,” she said, but she said it with an approving smile.
“You haven’t had to watch him prance and caper about as I have. Reminds me of a monkey.”
“Naughty,” she said, slapping his wrist.
He put an arm around her and drew her away from the window, where the footman was keeping an eye on them. “No hurry to get back, is there? Prance said something about rehearsing a love scene.”
“Mr. Corbett!” she chided coyly. “Not here! She might come in at any moment.”
“How about tonight? I can get us a box at the theatre. One of the pages there lets me know when there’s an empty box. Very private. They’re playing School for Scandal.”
“It sounds lovely,” she said.
“Should I call for you here?”
“Of course. I’m not a prisoner,” she said, and led him to the door. “I have to write this epergne up in the book or she’ll scold.”
“She don’t look like an ogre,” he said. “A dashed handsome lady.”
“A dashed lucky one, to have nabbed Luten,” she snipped.
Vance stole a kiss and left. She was busily checking the donations book when Lady Luten arrived a few moments later. “That’s nearly the whole lot,” Miss Lipman said. “Just a painting and two statues to come. And of course Lady Clare’s necklace.”
“We’ll begin writing the thank you notes to the donors this afternoon,” Lady Luten said.
“When are you expecting the necklace?”
“Soon. I’ll write that thank you note myself. It’s the most valuable item, and of course Lady Clare will expect some special mark of appreciation. I should send her a grand bouquet. I’ll take care of that.”
After the rehearsal was over that day, Corinne went into the gold salon to see that no damage had been done. She was annoyed to see Reg had helped himself to various small but nonetheless valuable items from other rooms in the house — and without even asking!
Her good Wedgewood tea set was on a side table, one cup and saucer dangerously near the edge. And what was the bergere chair from her own little sitting room doing in here? Miffed, she went into the hall to inform Evans he was to let her know if Sir Reginald wanted any other items from the house.
“Why, Mrs. Ballard has taken in a few things, a tea set for one. When she asked me to get a chair, I thought you had approved it.”
“Don’t say anything to her. It would hurt her feelings. I’ll speak to Sir Reginald.” Mrs. Ballard would be apologizing for a month if she said anything to her.
As she looked around, she noticed a valuable statue of a horse from the T’ang dynasty was missing from the table in the entrance hall, where it usually stood guard over a large bouquet. Luten had told her it came from an ancient Chinese tomb. She asked Evans if Sir Reginald had taken it.
“Not to my knowledge, Madam. He didn’t say anything to me.”
“If he requires some knick-knack for the play, he can use something less valuable — or bring one of his own trinkets,” she scolded. “He has enough of them. Let us have a look around. No, it’s not here.”
She went back to the gold salon, determined to rescue the statue before it got broken. But after a thorough look around, she could see no sign of it. Really this was too much! She would call on Reg immediately and give him a good scolding. While she was still in a temper, Reg came to call and was shown into the salon.
He took one look at her scowl and said, “You’re working too hard, my pet. I just came to talk to you. I want to give a little party for my temporary cast and wondered if you and Luten would like to attend. And Mrs. Ballard, of course. She’s been a great help to me.”
“Reg, I’m glad you came. I want a word with you.” She pointed to the Wedgwood tea set. “What is that doing here? You know that’s a valuable set. It belonged to Luten’s mama. If anything should happen to it! If it’s just a prop for the play you want, get something from the kitchen, or bring it from your own house.”
“Sorry. Mea culpa. I asked Mrs. Ballard to get a tea set for us and she brought this. We haven’t harmed it. There’s nothing in it, not even water.”
“You easily might have broken it! One cup and saucer were just on the edge of that table. With people milling about it might have got knocked off. But more importantly, where is Luten’s T’ang horse?”
“What — you mean the horse from the table in the hall? I haven’t used it.”
“Well, it’s missing.”
“Perhaps Evans —”
“No, he hasn’t seen it. It’s missing I tell you. If Luten finds out he’ll be furious.”
“Don’t tell him!” he exclaimed. “It’s bound to turn up. I’ll ask the cast tomorrow if they’ve seen it. Or perhaps Miss Lipman knows.”
After a little more wrangling, Reg left, the invitation to his party forgotten, and Corinne went to speak to Miss Lipman, who could tell her nothing. She didn’t even know what horse Lady Luten was talking about. Corinne also consulted Mrs. Ballard, who was similarly unhelpful. In fact, she annoyed Corinne considerably by suggesting she speak to Black. He and Mrs. Ballard had never got along. She thought him encroaching, as he was, and he mistrusted her holier-than-thou ways.
Corinne was so loathe to tell Luten about the horse that she decided to wait one day in hope that it would turn up. But she felt guilty at concealing it from him.
* * *
Chapter 8
Reg took his crew to task the next morning before the rehearsal started. “Attention, people. I have an unpleasant announcement,” he began, and was greeted with a communal groan as his announcements usually involved changes in the script they had memorised. He ignored the groans and continued.
“I am not making any accusation, but a valuable item has gone missing from the house. Very likely some maid has moved it, or broken it, and is afraid to admit it. I want only to ascertain if any of you have any knowledge of it. I shall have a word with each of you in private after the rehearsal. I don’t see why anyone would take it when it couldn’t possibly be sold. The item in question is a Chinese statue of a horse from the T’ang dynasty. It is wearing a red saddle, the paint somewhat faded. You must have seen it on the hall table, beside the vase of flowers. It’s a famous statue. It would be recognized immediately if one tried to sell or pawn it.”
“How horrid!” Chloe said at once. “Why don’t we all have a search for it?”
“Another excuse to be running through the house, Chloe?” Vance sneered.
“Not necessary, Chloe,” Prance informed her. “The staff are looking. Lady Luten has generously allowed us to have our little re
hearsals here, and we must not abuse her hospitality. Now, enough about that. Vance, we shall do the scene between you and Lorraine this morning, the scene where you first propose to her.”
“At what point in the story are we here?” Vance asked. “So difficult, acting from these bits of the script you’ve given us without a copy of the whole opus to judge the trajectory of the plot.”
“Ah, you still haven’t read the book.”
“I’m reading it. I haven’t come to this part yet.”
“It’s in chapter three, page 70, when you can find a few moments from your busy schedule. I want a certain oiliness from you, and muted horror from you, Chloe, but don’t, please, sink into melodrama. Ready?”
When he interviewed them individually after the rehearsal, all three of the actors earnestly claimed their innocence. Chloe seemed a little hesitant. Before leaving she said, “I don’t like to say anything, and I’m sure he’s innocent, but I did see Vance examining that little horse the other day when we were putting on our bonnets and hats in the hall.”
“Indeed!”
“But then, you know, he takes more interest in things like that than the rest of us,” she said, with a troubled frown. “Very likely he was just lifting it to see if it was genuine. I’m sure that’s all it was. You know how he was praising the tea set when Mrs. Ballard brought it in. He has a good eye for things like that. I’m certainly not accusing him, because I don’t believe for one moment he would ever steal anything, even if he doesn’t like you. I mean he’s just jealous of you and doesn’t appreciate this wonderful opportunity you’re giving him. Is it possible he might have misplaced it, put it down somewhere out of the way?”
Prance was not heartbroken to hear that Vance was jealous of him. It was true that Vance, of the three, did seem to have an eye for the finer things of life. He had praised Reg’s watch and often strolled about the gold salon gazing at the pictures on the wall when he was not required for a scene. His interview was the last.
“That lovely T’ang horse!” he said, shaking his head in sorrow when Prance questioned him. “I wondered if it could be genuine when I saw they kept it right in the front hall, where it might easily have been broken or even stolen. It must be worth a fortune. I hope it was insured.”
He admitted he had carefully lifted it up just curious to see if there was any marking on the bottom. He had returned it to the exact spot where it had been standing. “I was wondering why her ladyship practically hides it beneath that awful heap of flowers. It deserves to be featured in a special niche by itself.”
Prance had often thought the same thing. Surely Vance wouldn’t have admitted handling it and knowing it was so valuable if he had stolen it. Prance duly reported to Corinne, even mentioning that Vance had particularly admired the horse and handled it.
“I don’t care for that fellow,” she said. Her opinion was based largely on comments from Prance himself, and from Mrs. Ballard, who didn’t care for him either.
“Neither do I, nor do the others, come to that,” Prance admitted. “He’s rather disagreeable.”
“Couldn’t you replace him?”
“But he’s a superb villain.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
She spoke to Evans and had him remove from the entrance hall any valuable items that would fit into a pocket or reticule. The horse showed up the next day, not in its usual place, but on a table that had been pushed into a corner in the gold salon, which certainly suggested that it had been taken by one of the cast. Prance was quick to point out to Corinne that it might as easily have been done by a servant who lost his nerve and returned it. He didn’t mention, however, that he had told the cast that it could not safely be sold or pawned, so perhaps ...
He was glad Corinne had removed any other tempting pieces from the room. And he would keep a sharp eye on the lot of them, with special attention to Vance, just in case.
Corinne took the horse up to her bedroom for safekeeping.
Black kept himself informed on any unusual doings in the house. It was Lady Luten herself who told him that Miss Lipman had entertained Corbett in the library, when the guarding footman mentioned it. “She knows no one is allowed in there,” she scolded.
Black had also heard about it from the guards. “He seemed mighty interested in all the doors and what not,” he added. “He might want watching. Miss Lipman was out with him last night. I don’t know if she mentioned it to you.”
“I knew she was going to the theatre. She didn’t mention who she was going with.”
“Evans told me ‘twas him. He called for her here, so it’s not like they were trying to hide it.”
She told him about the T’ang horse. “Prance tells me Corbett was interested in the statue,” she said. “It was returned after he questioned them.”
“That lad will want watching. You leave him to me.”
“I’ll speak to Miss Lipman. Let her know no one is to go into the library.”
Miss Lipman adopted an air of injury when she was spoken to and said, “He just carried that big silver epergne in for me. I couldn’t lift it. It’s very heavy. Even Evans was afraid to try to carry it. What was I supposed to do?”
“If anything like that happens again, let me know. I’ll arrange for it to be moved. I understand Corbett took an interest in the safety precautions we’re taking. The doors and guards and so on.”
“Just an intelligent interest, no more,” she said with a toss of her curls. “In fact he mentioned that locking those doors to the garden wouldn’t stop a thief from breaking the glass and unlocking it from the outside. No precaution has been taken in that regard.”
“We can hardly have the doors boarded up. There is an armed guard outside at all times.”
A footman interrupted them to announce a picture had arrived, and Miss Lipman went to attend to it. It was a small Chardin portrait that Miss Lipman had no trouble carrying herself.
When Luten came home that afternoon, he found his wife had gone to her room to take a headache powder. When he went abovestairs to see her he was dismayed to see her looking so pale and worried. “Why don’t you have a lie down, darling?” he suggested. “You look fagged.”
“I feel wretched,” she said, and told him about the T’ang horse. “It’s been preying on my mind. I hated keeping things from you. I didn’t tell you yesterday as I knew you would be angry, and I hoped to find it.”
“And you did, so stop worrying.”
“But one of them must have taken it, Luten. It turned up in the gold salon. And Miss Lipman let that Corbett fellow into the library, and he seemed mighty interested in the donations, and our precautions. If anything should happen to them!”
She felt close to tears. Her usual good humour had completely left her. “I’m becoming a shrew,” she said. “It’s the responsibility of having all those valuable items in the house. And Prance having his crew here certainly doesn’t help. Oh I’ll be glad when this is over.”
“We’ll take a holiday, perhaps that trip to the Lake District we’ve been promising ourselves.”
“Yes, let’s do it. I feel I’ve aged a dozen years since this began.”
“It will soon be over. You’re doing a marvelous job, and it will be a real feather in your cap. Why Lady Castlereagh and the Patronesses of Almack’s will have to look to their laurels.” He spoke on until she was easier in her mind.
“Here am I worrying myself to a thread about a roomful of so-called treasures people are donating because they don’t want them, while you are worried about Napoleon trying to take over the world, and never utter a single complaint.”
“I expect the difference is that Napoleon isn’t billeted on us, right here in the house.”
“How are things going at the House?”
It was Luten’s turn to complain a little, and they both felt better for the talk.
* * *
Chapter 9
Coffen was so bored that afternoon that he had even sunk to reading t
he Morning Observer Black made him buy. He saw Black had outlined an article about the Gas, Light and Coke Company, which meant Black wanted him to read it. Finding it largely incomprehensible, he flung the paper aside and picked up the latest issue of a sporting magazine hoping to find an article on curricles. He felt hard done by to find the featured carriage was the Tilbury. Who in his right mind would drive a two-wheeled carriage? Except a curricle, of course. Different thing altogether.
Not only did he have to do without Black but now Prance — no favorite companion at the best of times — was busy with his play. Only one actress in it and she was engaged. His other chum, Corinne, was always running about like a mother hen tending her new brood when he called on her.
What he wanted was a nice mystery to solve, a murder for choice. So when Black came home and told him that Lady Luten was worried about Vance Corbett, and why, he immediately volunteered to look into it. Black felt guilty about abandoning Mr. Pattle and knew this little caper would please him.
“I thought we might go to have a look about the lad’s flat,” Black said.
“We’ll go tonight,” Coffen said at once. “Night would be the best time. Do you know where he lives?”
“No, but Sir Reginald would know. His rehearsal’s over for I just saw him go home. You could visit him, and while you’re there, see if you can find out what Corbett is doing tonight.”
“I’ll go call on him right now. I wager he has all their addresses in that blue notebook he carries around with him, jotting things in it. He calls it his Shadows book, so it must be full of play stuff. You don’t think he’ll be sore that we’re checking up on his villain?”
