‘Thingummy-bob? ’ repeated Billy in exasperation.
Lil just shrugged.
‘Then there was Lord Beaucastle’s butler, and a lady’s maid who had accompanied Miss Montague. Miss Whiteley wasn’t sure of either of their names.’
‘Well, surely it must be one of the servants then – the butler or the maid,’ said Billy, slamming shut the notebook as if the case was already closed. ‘After all, debutantes are rich, aren’t they? So they wouldn’t need to go stealing anything.’
‘That isn’t what Miss Whiteley thinks,’ said Sophie. ‘She believes that one of the other debutantes might have been envious of the attention that Lord Beaucastle had been paying her. She said they were all jealous, and that one of them might have taken the brooch to stir up trouble between her and Lord Beaucastle.’
Billy looked slightly disgusted. ‘This is beginning to sound like something from an awful romance novel,’ he said.
‘Well, awful or not, we’re going to work it out,’ declared Lil. ‘She said she would pay us ten pounds if we get the brooch back for her.’
‘By gum!’ said Joe. ‘This detective lark’s all right, isn’t it?’
‘If we could earn that – even split between us – I’d have something to keep me going until I get another part,’ said Lil, happily. ‘And a new frock too, perhaps!’
‘Did you believe her – Miss Whiteley?’ Joe found himself asking them both suddenly.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Did you think she was telling you the truth? Not spinning you some tall tale?’
Sophie thought for a moment. ‘She didn’t give us any reason to doubt her.’
‘I didn’t like her very much,’ added Lil, bluntly. ‘She seemed stuck-up and spoilt. And she was rather rude. But I did believe her.’
Billy had opened his notebook again. ‘Was there anyone else at all that could have taken the brooch?’
‘Miss Whiteley didn’t think anyone else could have gone into the room without being noticed,’ said Sophie.
‘Then it’s the maid or the butler,’ argued Billy again.
Joe shook his head slowly. ‘You’d have to be off your head to do that,’ he said. ‘Think about it. Working in a posh house, you’re in clover. You aren’t going to do anything to risk losing your place. All right, I suppose you might get the odd housemaid who’d risk filching a bit of silver, or a butler who’ll half-inch a bottle or two from his master’s cellars. But that ain’t the same sort of thing at all. And even supposing you were in desperate need of a few quid, there’s got to be a dozen things you could nick from such a grand place that would be far less noticeable than some fancy lady’s brooch with a great big diamond in it.’
‘That’s true,’ said Sophie, nodding.
‘What’s more,’ said Joe, warming to his subject now, ‘if you did nick it, you’d be in a pickle then, wouldn’t you? Because it’s recognisable, this brooch. It’s not going to be easy just to pop along to any old jeweller’s shop and sell it. They’d have too many questions. You’d have to know a good fence.’
‘Whatever do you mean, a fence?’ asked Lil, curiously.
‘A middleman,’ explained Joe. ‘Someone who’d buy it off you and then sell it on, make it look legit. With something like this brooch, they might even take it to pieces and sell off the stones. I used to know a couple of fences, and that’s what they did sometimes, if they came across something a bit flashy.’
‘Well, if you know them, maybe we could go and talk to them,’ said Billy, excitedly. ‘We could find out whether anyone’s sold them the jewelled moth!’
‘Not a chance,’ said Joe. The words were out of his mouth even before he realised he had spoken. He was taken aback by how forceful he sounded. Trying to speak lightly, he went on: ‘You can’t just go and see a fence and ask them what they’ve been buying and who they bought it off. They’d have a fit!’
What he did not say was that there was nothing on earth that would persuade him to go back east. He knew he wouldn’t last two minutes over there, not now he’d crossed the Baron’s Boys. Besides, now he was someone else altogether – a respectable sort with a clean shirt and shined boots, who could stroll along the riverbank on a summer evening, perhaps even in the company of a girl like Lil. He shot her a quick glance, suddenly wishing he hadn’t opened his mouth and started on about fences and nicking things.
But Lil was talking away, not seeming to have noticed that he had fallen silent. ‘I think we should talk to the debutantes first,’ she was saying.
‘But how?’ asked Sophie, furrowing her brow. ‘What possible reason do we have to talk to a debutante? Unless, perhaps, any of them come to Sinclair’s – we might speak to them there, I suppose.’
‘Oh, I’ve got a better idea than that,’ said Lil, looking pleased with herself. ‘Do you remember how I went undercover in the Marble Court Restaurant, when we were trying to find out about Sergeant Gregson and the Baron?’
Billy was heard to mumble something that sounded rather like, ‘I wouldn’t exactly call that undercover,’ in a low voice.
Lil ignored this and went on. ‘Perhaps that’s what we should do this time?’
‘Go to the Marble Court Restaurant?’
‘No, silly! Go undercover! ’ Lil’s eyes gleamed. ‘Do you know,’ she went on thoughtfully, ‘I’ve always thought that I would make a rather excellent debutante.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
Safe in her bedroom, behind the screen of the curtain, Mei took out the piece of paper with trembling fingers. She had torn it from the newspaper and put it in her secret hiding place, under a broken floorboard beneath her bed, with her other treasures: a book of Chinese fairy-stories that Uncle Huan had brought her back from one of his trips; her collection of pebbles and smooth glass that she’d gathered along the river at low tide; a little carved jade ornament that had once been Granddad’s; and a curved white shell. Shen and Jian had never found the hiding place; even Song did not know about it – it was hers alone. She did not know exactly why she had felt the need to hide the newspaper, but some instinct had made her feel that it was important, precious, full of the same kind of magic she felt when she held the jade ornament in the palm of her hand.
Now, she smoothed it out and looked at it again. She had already done this so many times that the paper was becoming thin and soft from handling, yet she could not stop re-reading it, gazing again at the blurry photograph, squinting at the little dark smudge at the neck of the young lady’s gown.
There could not be two Moonbeam Diamonds – there simply could not. She gazed at the young lady’s face. Who was Miss Veronica Whiteley? How had she come to be given the Moonbeam Diamond? However had it ended up in the society pages of the newspaper – part of this peculiar world of balls and tea parties and fashionable gowns? And what about the diamond’s curse?
There were so many questions she almost did not know where to begin. The most important one of all was what she should do with the newspaper now. Her first thought had been to take it straight to Dad, but when she had gone down to him, for once, he had been in no mood to listen. He was distracted: since the meeting, he had been poring over the shop accounts book from morning until night. When she had tried to show him, he had simply said, ‘Not now, Mei,’ and paid no attention at all.
As for Mum, she was busier than ever. She dashed about like a whirlwind, working energetically on restoring the shop; but she was out of the house a great deal too, often slipping off to Mrs Wu’s with a covered dish in her hand, or hurrying over to the Eating House to speak to Ah Wei. Left behind to look after the twins or cook the supper or wash the dishes, Mei knew that this was no time to try and talk to Mum about anything.
That only left Song. He worked long hours at the Eating House, but that evening he was at home. The twins were in bed, and Mum and Dad were working in the shop. Mei made up her mind, and a moment later she had started down the stairs, the cutting clasped tightly in her hand.
She found
Song in the back room, making dumplings. He had always had a passion for food: he took his job in the Eating House very seriously, and cherished ambitions to become a fine cook one day. His dreams reached far beyond Ah Wei’s and China Town. Once or twice, when he had been in a pensive mood, he had talked to Mei about the great hotels and restaurants of London’s West End, and what it might be like to work there. He had made Granddad teach him everything he knew about Chinese dishes, and pestered Uncle Huan to bring him back unusual spices from foreign ports, or to describe the exotic dishes he had tasted on his voyages.
That was one of the things about Song, Mei thought now, as she sat at the table and watched him carefully shape the dumplings: he had always been so certain about things, whereas she never really felt certain at all.
She sat quietly, waiting until he had finished with the dumplings and had tidied everything away, knowing he would not be able to concentrate on anything else until he was done.
Then, at last, she handed him the cutting.
‘What’s all this?’ asked Song, looking baffled.
‘Look,’ said Mei, trying to contain her excitement. ‘Read it. See what it says here. It’s the Moonbeam Diamond, Song.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘The Moonbeam Diamond! The diamond from the temple in Granddad’s village. The diamond that belonged to our ancestors, that protects our family. The diamond that Granddad watched over, until it was stolen by Waiguo Ren. It’s here – here in London!’
Song laughed shortly. ‘Mei, don’t be silly,’ he said. ‘It’s just got the same name, that’s all. It’s a coincidence.’
‘But maybe it isn’t. Remember Granddad always said that Waiguo Ren was an Englishman. It would make sense that he would bring the diamond here, to London, wouldn’t it?’ Mei’s eyes widened, before she went on. ‘It could be why Granddad first came here! What if he came to London to try and get the diamond back?’
Song stared at her for a moment, and then his face softened. ‘I know you miss Granddad,’ he said quietly. ‘We all do. But this – this is just make-believe.’
‘No, it isn’t,’ said Mei stubbornly. ‘What are the chances of another stone – as rare and special as this – having exactly the same name? It’s the same diamond, I know it is. And we could get it back! ’
Song pushed the article aside impatiently. ‘And how would you do that, exactly?’ he demanded. ‘Are you planning to go waltzing up to this young lady, and just say: “Excuse me, miss, but please can we have our diamond back?” Don’t be ridiculous. Even if it is the Moonbeam Diamond, it doesn’t belong to our family any more. It’s gone. It was taken years ago, before you or I were even born. This young lady is hardly going to care about some old story, is she? It’s her diamond now.’
‘But . . . it was stolen!’ protested Mei. ‘It was taken from a temple – a holy place. That isn’t right. Besides, there’s a curse on it. She most likely doesn’t know about that. It says here she was given it as a gift – what if something terrible happens to her? She ought to know.’
‘And you’re going to be the one to tell her?’ Song snorted. ‘Mei, you can hardly work up the courage to step outside China Town! How on earth are you going to manage to find some rich young lady you’ve never met before and convince her to give you a priceless diamond? You’d never have the pluck.’
‘I thought maybe you could help me . . .’ said Mei in a small voice.
‘And even if I did, what then? She wouldn’t listen to anything we have to say. Look at her, Mei. She’d laugh in our faces!’
‘But what if she didn’t? Don’t we at least have to try? What about Granddad – and – and honouring our ancestors? Granddad said that protecting the diamond was our family’s duty – our destiny. It’s important,’ Mei went on, blinking back tears now.
‘Don’t you understand?’ Song’s voice was exasperated. ‘None of that matters. Look, if Mum and Dad don’t find a way to pay the Baron’s Boys what they’re demanding from us, we’re finished. The others are in the same boat too. Didn’t you hear what happened to Mrs Wu’s son? They broke his arm in three places. They aren’t sure he’ll ever be able to work again. This is really serious .’
‘But the diamond is supposed to bring us luck, isn’t it?’ said Mei, her voice wavering but determined. ‘It’s supposed to protect us. Granddad always said so. If we could get it back, it might protect us against the Baron’s Boys!’
‘Grow up, Mei,’ said Song, shortly. ‘It’s time you stopped believing in fairy tales. Granddad is gone now and you need to wake up.’
As if to put an end to their conversation, Song crumpled the article in his hand, and threw it on to the fire before Mei could stop him, turning the last remnant of Granddad’s story to ash.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘Are you certain that this is a good idea?’ asked Sophie, for at least the dozenth time.
Lil smiled beatifically at her reflection in the looking glass, as she tilted her hat to a better angle. ‘Of course I am. It will be fun – rather like acting and, after all, I am an actress. I shall simply be playing the role of the perfect debutante.’
The two girls were in the deserted mannequins’ dressing room at Sinclair’s department store. The dress shows were over for the day, and the other mannequins had left, but Lil had stayed behind to dress for a different performance altogether – going undercover as a debutante at a tea party at Miss Whiteley’s house.
Sophie stepped back to survey her friend as she stood in front of the looking glass. There was no doubt at all that Lil looked like the perfect debutante. Her hair, which had already been carefully coiffured by Monsieur Pascal, the hairdresser at Sinclair’s, for that afternoon’s dress show, was a heap of beautiful glossy curls, and the delicate lace frock she wore was immaculately white. It had been borrowed from a rack of gowns in the mannequins’ dressing room. Sophie had been rather doubtful about this, but Lil had been adamant that no one would notice. ‘Look around – there must be hundreds of frocks in here. I promise you that no one will ever miss one, especially just for an afternoon.’ With the final addition of a hat wreathed in flowers and a pair of white gloves, Lil looked every inch a lovely young debutante.
The only problem, Sophie thought, was that Lil was simply too excitable to be convincing as a proper society lady. After the disappointment of learning that the show at the Fortune Theatre would be ending, Lil had thrown herself into this new challenge with even more energy than usual, and was fizzing around the mannequins’ dressing room.
‘You’ll have to try and blend into the background,’ Sophie warned her. ‘Don’t draw too much attention to yourself. Be . . . inconspicuous.’
‘I’m not going to start a riot at this tea party, you know,’ said Lil. ‘Remember, I’ve seen hundreds of debs at the dress shows. I know exactly how they behave, and I’ll be as prim as the best of them.’ She paused to practise a demure smile in the looking glass.
‘Just make sure you find out as much as you can about the other debutantes from Lord Beaucastle’s garden party. Even if none of them took the jewel, they might have seen something suspicious,’ Sophie went on.
‘Of course I will,’ said Lil promptly. ‘That’s what I’m there for, isn’t it? I shall be an undercover detective . I say, isn’t it thrilling?’
Yet as she approached the front steps of Miss Whiteley’s town house later that afternoon, Lil had to admit to herself that she was, after all, feeling just the tiniest bit nervous. The house alone seemed designed to intimidate: a great white wedding-cake of a town house on Belgrave Square, one of London’s most fashionable addresses. It seemed to grow larger and larger, looming over her as she approached.
She cleared her throat, straightened her hat, and willed herself forwards, going briskly up the steps that led to the large, black, forbidding-looking front door. She rang the bell with decision: a few moments later, a smart maid came to answer it.
‘Yeeeeees?’ she demanded, haughtily.
‘Er . . . good afternoon,’ said Lil, suddenly realising that she was not at all sure how a debutante would typically address a housemaid. ‘I’m Miss Rose. I’m here for Miss Whiteley’s tea party.’
The housemaid nodded. ‘Please come in, miss,’ she said, holding open the door. As she did so, she glanced over Lil’s shoulder, as though she expected someone else to be there. Lil followed her gaze, but of course, she was quite alone on the threshold.
‘Is your chaperone with you, miss?’ asked the housemaid.
‘My . . . chaperone?’ repeated Lil, confused. Then she realised: debutantes were not allowed to go anywhere alone! She had seen them at the dress shows at Sinclair’s, perpetually accompanied by a mother or an aunt or a married older sister or at least a lady’s maid – and here she was, turning up to a tea party completely unescorted. She felt her face turning pink.
‘Oh – I’m afraid she’s feeling unwell so she sent me on alone. Such a shame she couldn’t come too,’ she said hurriedly, fixing the housemaid with her best demure smile.
‘I’m sorry to hear that, miss.’
Warming to her story now, Lil went on: ‘Yes it’s simply terrible, she came down with the mumps, the poor thing. Awfully sudden.’
‘The mumps, miss?’ repeated the housemaid, looking alarmed.
Lil remembered too late that mumps were dreadfully catching. ‘Of course, it may not be the mumps. It may be something else. And as it happens I was away visiting my grandmama, so I’m not in the slightest bit infectious. Shall I go through?’
She flashed her smile again at the confused housemaid, and stepped purposefully forwards into a showy hallway with a parquet floor, a large chandelier and several paintings in elaborate gilt frames. Still looking bemused, the maid directed Lil towards the drawing room, where Miss Whiteley’s tea party was taking place.
As she stepped through the doorway, Lil saw that gathered together at one end of the large, sunny room were some twenty girls of about her own age, all dressed in dainty pale frocks and strings of pearls. At the other end were a group of ladies wearing more luxuriant costumes – richly coloured gowns trimmed with brocade, and a great deal of expensive-looking jewellery. But in spite of their differences in appearance, both groups – the debutantes and their chaperones – were behaving exactly alike, standing in polite circles, or sitting in confidential groups, sipping tea from gold-rimmed teacups.
The Mystery of the Jewelled Moth Page 6
