‘Waiguo Ren . . . Lord Beaucastle . . . the Baron,’ said Dad, slowly. He wiped his forehead with his handkerchief. ‘I never would have believed it.’ He turned to Sophie, Billy and Lil, who were still gazing at the old scrapbook. ‘It’s hard to explain to you now,’ he said in his soft voice. ‘But what you have to understand is that being a guardian at the temple in the village where I grew up – well, it was the most important of responsibilities. It was not just a job: it was a sacred duty. My father – Mei’s granddad – he was a sort of head man in the village. People respected him; they looked to him to show them what was right. I know he often thought about what had happened: how they had been tricked by Waiguo Ren; how the temple had been destroyed; the loss of the diamond. He regretted it terribly. But even I had no idea that he was working to find the diamond all this time.’
‘But if he knew all this – why didn’t he tell us? Or do something about it?’ asked Mei, wonderingly.
‘Well the Baron is dangerous. What power would one old man have to stand against him?’ Dad flicked through the notebook. ‘Maybe he was trying to gather his evidence, biding his time . . .’
‘Maybe he was trying to protect us,’ said Mum softly. ‘I just can’t believe that Waiguo Ren was here – all along.’
‘Except he wasn’t,’ said Song, suddenly.
The others looked at him in surprise.
‘The Baron had never tried to move into China Town before, had he? Not until Granddad died. It was only then that he sent his Boys in and started threatening and making demands.’
‘Do you think he knew about Granddad?’ asked Mei incredulously. She turned to look at Dad. ‘Could Granddad have been somehow – holding him back?’
Dad shook his head, mystified.
Song was leafing through Granddad’s notebook. ‘It’s obvious that there’s a lot going on here that we don’t know about. It’s so much to take in.’ He looked curiously down the table at Sophie. ‘What do you plan to do now?’ he asked, directly.
Sophie looked around at the others, and then back at Song. ‘We don’t know for sure,’ she admitted. ‘We have a friend, a private detective, who we know is trustworthy, and who is working with Scotland Yard against the Baron. We want to tell him what we have discovered, but he’s away at present.’ She paused, and then went on, as though she was thinking as she was speaking: ‘I suppose what we really need to do is to find some sort of proof that Lord Beaucastle is the Baron – some evidence that we can give to our friend Mr McDermott when he returns. If Scotland Yard had some firm evidence, then they could actually arrest the Baron and his men – and put a stop to them.’
Beside her, Lil nodded eagerly. ‘Yes! And perhaps you could help. If the Baron is moving into China Town, you might be able to help us gather evidence we can use to prove who he is.’
Mei was conscious that Mum and Dad were exchanging glances. After a long moment, it was Dad who spoke.
‘There is no doubt that you have found out something very important. We would like to help, and we wish you the very best of luck. But we can’t risk more trouble with the Baron. We have talked long and hard about this with our friends here in China Town. The stakes are too high. The Baron could ruin us, take our homes and livelihoods and harm those we hold dear. We dare not stand against him. I hope you understand that.’
‘But – but what about the diamond?’ Mei burst out, unhappily. ‘If we could get it back – it would help us. It could protect us against the Baron and the Baron’s Boys!’
Dad shook his head slowly. ‘If you would carry a message to this young lady, to tell her the truth about where the diamond came from, we would be in your debt,’ he said, inclining his head to Sophie and the others. ‘But I beg you, please do not mention our names. If she’s to marry the Baron, she might tell him of our involvement.’
Lil opened her mouth as if to protest, but Sophie put a hand on her arm. ‘We understand,’ she said softly. ‘Thank you, Mr Lim, Mrs Lim. We should go now – it’s getting late.’
‘D’you think we could borrow the notebook?’ asked Billy, gently touching the pages.
‘We’ll translate the notes for you first,’ said Song. ‘It’s the least we can do.’
A few minutes later, they had said their farewells and were walking towards the place where Mr Lim had told them they would be able to find another cab.
‘We understand? ’ repeated Lil, rather crossly. ‘Well, you may understand, Sophie, but I certainly don’t! They’ve just left us to sort everything out on our own.’
‘It’s different for them,’ said Sophie, shaking her head. ‘They want to protect their family. It’s dangerous.’
‘Well it’s jolly dangerous for us too!’ pointed out Lil, rather indignantly. ‘Look at us now, wandering the streets of the East End at goodness knows what time of night. One of the Baron’s Boys could quite easily jump out at us at any time!’
It was perhaps unfortunate that it was at that moment that Sophie felt a hand fall upon her arm. She jumped in alarm, but almost at once realised that it was only Mei’s brother Song.
‘Wait,’ he panted breathlessly, still gripping her arm. ‘Stop. I wanted to tell you – we’ll help you, Mei and me.’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked, taken aback.
He fixed her with serious dark eyes. ‘Never mind what Mum and Dad said. We’ve made up our own minds. We want to help with this. We want to finish Granddad’s work and help you stop the Baron. Just tell us what you need us to do.’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
At last, the long meal drew to an end. At Beaucastle’s discreet nod, the ladies rose, leaving the gentlemen to their port and cigars.
‘We’ll join you in the drawing room presently,’ said Lord Beaucastle to Veronica.
‘Excuse me, I must go to the powder room,’ she whispered to Isabel, darting away from the group of ladies before her stepmother had chance to object.
An unsmiling footman directed Veronica down a long corridor. As soon as she had turned the corner, she let out a long, trembling breath of relief. She felt tense and agitated in ways she couldn’t even explain. She couldn’t stop thinking about the strange things that Henry Snow had been saying to Lord Beaucastle and the even stranger way that he had responded.
‘May I help you, miss?’
It was Lord Beaucastle’s butler. She hadn’t heard him coming, and now he had happened upon her, standing by herself in the middle of the corridor.
‘I – I’m looking for the powder room,’ she said awkwardly.
‘Please, follow me.’
He escorted her silently down the corridor, and pointed to a door, bowing to her with exaggerated politeness. Veronica felt very glad to slip inside and close the door firmly behind her. She didn’t much care for Lord Beaucastle’s butler, with his cadaverous face, silly little moustache and obsequious manner.
Alone once more, she tried to order her thoughts, glancing at her reflection in the looking glass on the wall. Her imagination was running wild, she told herself; she was simply nervous about her betrothal. And that was natural enough, wasn’t it? She carefully rearranged a hairpin, admiring the way that the lamplight gleamed on her red-gold hair. The moth brooch sparkled in the light, and she touched it with a fingertip. It seemed full of secrets: as if it possessed some mystical power that might at any time be released.
She ran her hands over its richly textured surface. It was so strange that the brooch was still here and yet Emily had gone. Could it really have had some part to play in her death?
Emily had certainly had secrets. She had stolen the jewelled moth, after all. She had been a criminal. She’d had another hidden life, which she kept secret from all around her.
Could it be that Lord Beaucastle had secrets too?
Veronica’s thoughts kept sliding back to that strange conversation about the mines. Something about it was jarring, a wrong note struck on the piano in the middle of a melody. For the first time, she felt as though Lord Beaucastle might
not be quite sincere. It was almost as though when he had made that toast, he had been acting the part of the amiable, generous gentleman, struck by the charms of a young lady.
If there really was something suspicious going on – if any part of Miss Taylor and Miss Rose’s silly tale was true – then surely there would be signs of it, she told herself. There would have to be evidence here in Lord Beaucastle’s home. She could find out for herself, she thought suddenly. She could seek out some proof of what they had told her – and if she found nothing, well, she would know that they were wrong. Then she could forget all about Miss Taylor and Miss Rose – yes, and Emily too, she thought guiltily. She didn’t want to think about criminals and stolen jewels and dead bodies any longer – she just wanted to get on with enjoying her first Season, her coming-out ball, and the announcement of an engagement so impressive that surely everyone would be talking about it.
Feeling quite decisive now, she decided she would look in Lord Beaucastle’s study while he was still in the dining room with the other gentleman. She knew that it was in this part of the house, adjoining the library. Lord Beaucastle had pointed it out to her when he had taken her into his library once to show her some rather dull old paintings and books that he had brought back from his travels and seemed to think fascinating. If there was anything at all untoward going on, she would surely find clear evidence of it there.
She had rather dreaded finding the butler still standing outside the powder room door, waiting to escort her back to the drawing room, but as she stepped out into the corridor, she saw to her relief that he had gone. She set out confidently in the direction of Lord Beaucastle’s library.
It took her a little longer than she had expected to find it, but she saw no other servants on her way. When at last she stepped inside, the room was only dimly lit, and the hushed ticking of the grandfather clock seemed to echo her own heartbeat. She felt a most peculiar combination of fear and odd excitement as she quickly made her way through the shadowy room towards the study door. But on the threshold, she stopped – there was someone talking inside. She recognised Henry Snow’s voice.
‘The man is clearly an utter fool. He hasn’t the slightest idea of what those mines are really worth – or what’s to be found there. We must get hold of them, and quickly. If you look at the results of the latest analysis, you’ll see its potential for use in an incendiary – well, it’s unprecedented. Ten times more powerful than anything we have seen before. It’s extraordinary – if you come through and see my latest experiment –’
‘Not now. I have guests to entertain,’ Beaucastle’s voice was brusque and unlike itself.
‘Tomorrow then? In the morning perhaps?’
‘I have business with my man in Shoreditch. But in the afternoon –’
The voice broke off abruptly. Lord Beaucastle had opened the door, stopping suddenly upon seeing Veronica standing there.
‘Miss Whiteley!’ he exclaimed. For a moment or two, a dark expression rushed across his face – but a second later it had disappeared, replaced by a look of bland confusion. His voice, when he spoke, was much more like the genial Beaucastle she knew. ‘Whatever are you doing here, my dear?’
Veronica thought quickly. She gave a silly little laugh. ‘Oh, I’m so terribly sorry,’ she said, fluttering her lashes and trying to look contrite. ‘But I confess, I lost my way coming back from the powder room – and then I was so fascinated by all the beautiful treasures you showed me last time that I just couldn’t resist taking another peep at your marvellous library.’
‘But this is Lord Beaucastle’s study,’ said Henry Snow rather crossly. He was standing behind Beaucastle, beside a desk that was littered with papers: Veronica glimpsed maps and documents, scrawled with numbers. He was frowning at her with a look of immense disapproval. ‘The library is behind you,’ he finished, pointing behind them from where they had come.
But Lord Beaucastle just laughed. ‘Now, now, Henry,’ he said, ‘Miss Whiteley knows she is welcome anywhere in my home – and to look at my collections whenever she chooses. I’m only too delighted they please her,’ he added, gallantly. ‘Now I’m going to escort Miss Whiteley back to the drawing room and rejoin the party. If you insist on continuing your work, we will leave you in peace – and we can finish this conversation tomorrow.’
There was extra emphasis placed on his final word: Mr Snow did not argue.
Lord Beaucastle offered Veronica his arm. ‘Come along, my dear.’
Veronica did her best to smile obediently, but her heart was racing as they left the room.
Veronica felt like an automaton for the rest of the evening, as she smiled and played cards and went through all the motions of having a wonderful time, until midnight came and at last it was time to go.
‘What a delightful evening!’ exclaimed Isabel, as they travelled home in the carriage.
‘Beaucastle certainly is a fine host,’ agreed Father, looking very well pleased with himself, as if anticipating many such evenings to come.
‘You are a very lucky girl, Veronica,’ said Isabel. ‘My goodness. What a match. Just think how wonderful it will be when your engagement is announced!’ She gave a complacent little laugh. ‘The Countess will never forgive us. I’m sure she was quite determined that poor little Phyllis was going to be the first to find a husband.’
Veronica said nothing. She glanced over at her father, but he was smiling at Isabel’s joke.
When they arrived home, Isabel hurried away to take off her gown, but Veronica lingered in the hallway. She felt awfully tired, and longed for nothing more than to escape to the peace of her room, where her maid would be waiting to help her undress and to take down her hair. But she had to say something, before it was too late:
‘Father,’ she began tentatively. ‘May I speak with you?’
‘Of course, my dear.’
He led her into his study and urged her to sit down on a leather chair, pouring himself a glass of port from the decanter.
‘I want to talk to you about Lord Beaucastle,’ she began awkwardly. ‘Father, I know that you’ve granted permission for our engagement – I know that we’re supposed to announce it at my coming-out ball.’
‘At the stroke of midnight!’ exclaimed her father jovially. ‘Rather a romantic scheme of Beaucastle’s, what!’
Veronica gripped the arm of the chair. ‘But – but – I don’t believe I can marry Lord Beaucastle.’ Her father’s face changed: he seemed about to speak, but she blundered on, ‘I know he’s rich and important, but I don’t love him, and I don’t believe he loves me. And that’s not all –’
‘Vee, my dear,’ said her father, using the old baby name that he hadn’t called her for years. He reached forwards and took her cold hands in his warm ones. ‘You know that successful marriages aren’t built on romantic fancies, but on compatibility. Lord Beaucastle is a fine match for you – you need a husband that can guide you. You’re still so very young.’
‘I know!’ burst out Veronica. ‘I’m not ready to be married yet, Father, I –’
‘Remember that as I have no son, you are my heir,’ Father explained. ‘We have to think practically about your future. Lord Beaucastle is a wise man and a good one. I can trust him to take good care of you.’
Veronica pulled her hands impatiently away. ‘But that’s just it, Father! I don’t believe he is! I – I’m beginning to believe that he’s not the man that he appears to be .’
Her father laughed briskly. ‘Nonsense,’ he admonished her, taking a sip of port. ‘Don’t be silly, my dear. Why, I’ve known Beaucastle for years! There’s no finer fellow in London.’
‘But – I heard the evidence tonight for myself, at his house. You have to listen – I think he’s plotting to get hold of the mines. There’s something in them that he wants –’
Father set down his glass firmly. ‘Enough,’ he said. ‘I know you’re used to having your own way. God knows I’ve probably spoiled you more than I should. But this has got to s
top, Veronica. I won’t indulge you this time. Beaucastle has been a good friend to me, and he will be a fine husband to you. You will have everything you could ever want. I won’t let you turn all that down for some sort of – of childish silliness. What do you know of mines and business? This is just a whim.’
‘It isn’t a whim –’ Veronica began weakly, but Father shook his head.
‘Let me be perfectly clear with you,’ he said, leaning forwards. ‘When Lord Beaucastle formally requests the pleasure of your hand at your coming-out ball this Friday, I insist that you say yes.’
CHAPTER TWENTY
‘Being a deb must be simply ghastly,’ said Lil, tucking into her plate of toad-in-the-hole. It was midday, and she and Sophie were back in the Sinclair’s refectory. Not far from where they were sitting, a group of the girls from Ladies’ Fashions were gathered around the morning paper, admiring the ballgowns of the young ladies in the society pages. Lil screwed up her face.
‘Imagine being told who to marry, and not having the tiniest bit of choice in the matter!’ she went on. ‘You know, I always thought it was terrifically unfair that my brother got to go off to university, just because he was a boy, while I was supposed to stick at home doing ladylike things – and then Mother and Father made such an awful fuss about me going on the stage. But compared to Veronica, I think that really I’m jolly lucky.’
Sophie nodded. ‘And we’re all of us lucky compared to Emily Montague.’ She sighed and put down her fork. ‘The more I think about it, the more I am sure that we have to find out what really happened to her,’ she continued, her voice very determined.
‘But how?’ asked Lil. ‘I suppose that the police will have information about how she died – but I don’t know how we would be able to get hold of it.’
The Mystery of the Jewelled Moth Page 13
