The Mammoth Book of Best British Crime 7 Part 22

I soon found young Stourton at my elbow. There was an inner room, kept for a select few, he whispered, evincing no surprise that a man seen but two hours ago leading his sister into the dance should now be indulging in ludicrously high play. But he had dipped too deep to make rational judgments about anything. He did not even demur when I pumped him full of the expensive but throat-burning brandy I was now persuaded to buy.

Despising myself, I turned the conversation to his sisters. Like a man seeing a far distant sh.o.r.e with but a thin spar before him, he seized my arm and began to extol their virtues, displaying an imagination quite creditable in one so far gone.

"But Miss Honoria-" I shamelessly interrupted a disquisition on the eldest. "Tell me about her."

He raised his eyes to the heavens. "d.a.m.n me if she isn't quite in the basket." He belched. "Shouldn't have said that. Forget it."

"Of course. Do you mean that she has behaved without discretion?"

"Fine discretion getting yourself in the family way!"

I did not have to feign my shock and horror. Such a lapse is not uncommon amongst country lads and la.s.ses, though I have tried most strongly to discourage such behaviour. But for a gentlewoman to betray herself truly, I was appalled.

"And the man in question-?" I prompted, as if he were one of my flock.

"Would marry her, but for one thing." He rubbed his fingers to suggest a fat dowry.

"But does her mother her father-?"

"No, no! Of course not."

"Her condition will manifest itself ere long," I pointed out.

"And that's the devil of it. Antoine has slipped out of the country things were getting a bit hot for him when they discovered how he loaded the dice. When he returns, I make no doubt that he will make an honest woman of her egad, I shall call him to account if he does not even if I have to buy the marriage licence myself!" he concluded, with an air of positive generosity, which he rather spoilt with another belch.

"So you need to win tonight," I said, "and win well."

He shook his head. "I've cash in hand, never fret. If only I can run Antoine to earth."

"I'd heard that you were about to be hauled into a debtors' prison," I said.

"Aye, so I was this far from the Marshalsea." He held his fingers a hair's breadth apart. "Or following Antoine to Geneva. But I had a plan. And d.a.m.n me if it didn't work rather well."

"And what was the plan?"

He peered at me hazily. "Tell you what, if you're ever dunned, I'll tell you then. Until then, mum's the word." And that was the last I got from him.

To my amazement and horror, it was soon all about town that I was dangling after Miss Honoria. Since I had spoken to the young lady no more than one could achieve in a country dance and also knew her true position, I suspected that the origin of these rumours was none other than Lady Grenfell herself.

"I take it that you do not find these rumours likely to entice you into her family?" Mama asked, as I squired her to the Royal Academy.

"On the contrary, they raise horrible suspicions."

She narrowed her eyes. "Against whom?"

I flushed. I had not revealed even to her that Miss Honoria might be enceinte. "About Lady Grenfell's truthfulness," I answered at last.

"You mean in the matter of the diamond necklace?"

"Exactly. I simply cannot believe that a family up to its eyes in debt buys a diamond necklace. Champagne, yes, a necklace, no. And Lady Grenfell's shone like new, did it not?"

She nodded.

"Mama, which jeweller does her ladys.h.i.+p patronize?"

When I indicated to John Bridge, of Messrs Rundell and Bridge, that I wished to speak with him on a matter of some delicacy, he glanced with amazement at my clerical garb, worn for the first time in London, but swiftly returned to his usual calm and pleasant demeanour, inviting me into his private office.

"In fact, it is not a matter of some delicacy," I corrected myself, "but of the utmost delicacy secrecy, indeed."

He bowed. "You have my word, my lord-"

"Parson Campion," I corrected him. "I am not here on family business. I am here to enquire about the purchase of a diamond necklace."

"You know that I may not betray secrets," he demurred.

"I do indeed. Neither may I, in my calling, though the two are somewhat different. But I believe that someone has been punished for a crime he did not commit. May I ask you if anyone has recently bought a diamond necklace to replace a lost one?"

He responded to my smile, with a courteous one of his own. "It is I am pleased to say an all too regular occurrence. But I do keep records: perhaps if you gave me a definite name I might check? But please do not ask me to do more than confirm an absolute truth. I dare not point you in anyone's direction!"

I held his gaze. "Mr Bridge, did Lady Grenfell purchase a copy of her stolen diamond necklace?"

"Sir, she did not."

My mother heard the news with interest. "But Almeria was certainly wearing a necklace remarkably similar to the lost one. Indeed," she added reflectively, "it positively glistered."

"And all that glisters is not gold!" I quoted the proverb with gusto. More soberly I added, "I fear I have to ask a few questions nay, not of Lady Grenfell herself. Not yet. Now, Mama, if you had to have a copy of a necklace made, to which discreet jeweller would you go?"

"To the one to which you have already been to Rundell and Bridge, of course."

My mother had kindly invited Dr Hansard and his wife to join us in Berkeley Square, engaging to show Mrs Hansard the sights of the town and introduce her to her milliner and her modiste while Edmund and I conferred about our next move. Our dispositions were somewhat hampered by the continued presence in the capital of Miss Honoria, looking more and more unwell.

"If only her wretched lover would return and remove her from the country for good! It cannot be good for a lady in her condition to be embroiled in the scandal that is about to ensue," I said.

Dr Hansard raised an eyebrow. "Women are a great deal tougher than is widely believed," he declared. "But her very situation must be distressing, and a wedding band, put in place by no matter how shady a gamester, might be perceived as preferable to prolonged rustication and separation from her b.a.s.t.a.r.d babe, which is usually the price such unfortunate girls must pay to be rehabilitated into society."

"We have no alternative but to seek out Stourton again. He must have some idea of the young man's whereabouts. He might even be prevailed on to escort his sister to whichever city he has descended upon," I added slowly.

But such an idea found no favour with Stourton. He had no particular reason not to go, but mentioned an engagement with friends, a horse to see to all facile excuses that made my knuckles itch.

"It would be the deed of a generous brother," I urged "When was I ever generous?" he asked with an unpleasing sincerity.

Lady Grenfell was equally unhelpful. Without suggesting outright that Miss Honoria had lost her virtue, we hinted as best we could the reason for her illness. Either her ladys.h.i.+p was indeed ignorant, or whether she was so stupid not to understand our insinuations I know not. But she averred without hesitation that her daughter was not at home, but had just stepped out to a lending library.

At last I could restrain myself no longer. "Lady Grenfell, may I speak to you about the diamond necklace you wore to your ball?"

How did I expect her to react? With a blush of guilt? One of her famous spasms?

Certainly not with an indulgent beam.

"Dear Stourton knew how upset I was when that monster stole it from around my very neck! He had a run of luck at cards or on the horses . . . What a sweet boy, to purchase a replacement for me."

"Sweet indeed," I echoed.

"So what is your latest theory?" Mama asked me indulgently, as we ate an exquisite luncheon. "Do you believe that young Stourton has such a generous spirit as to buy such a gift for a woman with whom he has scarcely been on speaking terms this last five years?"

"No," Edmund replied on my behalf. "On the contrary, I believe she suspected him of stealing it hence her lies under oath to the court. To 'prove' his innocence, he came up with a replacement. Which may not be a replacement at all, but paste."

"Since it glisters," Mama agreed, nodding to me. "So you need to see the necklace again, but more closely. We will invite the family to dine before joining us in our box for the opera. No woman worth her salt would fail to wear her diamonds for such an event. Now what is it, Tobias?" I might have been an importunate seven-year-old tugging at her skirt.

"Would not such an invitation lend credence to this ridiculous rumour about my attachment to Miss Honoria?" I asked stiffly.

"It might indeed. Or it might shock her into confessing that she is . . . betrothed . . . to someone else."

Hansard smiled. "I see only one problem, my lady. How do we get a sufficiently close look at this necklace? It cannot be such an event as you would invite Mr Rundell or Mr Bridge!"

"That does not mean that they cannot give an opinion," I declared. "Mr Bridge will only answer direct questions, not volunteer information. Last time I asked the wrong question. This time I must ask the correct one."

The party never reached the opera, but a fine drama was enacted before our eyes.

It was Miss Honoria or rather her absence, with a trifling indisposition, according to her mama, her eyes spitting fire who provoked what threatened to become an unseemly altercation.

Stourton looked from one cool face to the next, finished his champagne in one gulp, a mistake, as he was already well into his cups when he arrived.

"We have such hope of you two lovers," she announced, with a hard t.i.tter and a smile in my direction. "Do we not, Stourton?"

"I am sure Stourton has no such thing," I declared, incensed. "Stourton knows that Miss Honoria's feelings are engaged elsewhere, and he is in fact about to take his sister to her intended."

"Am I, old chap? I think not."

"I think so indeed," I persevered. "You have a great deal of money at your disposal, have you not? And you might as well spend it on someone who if not precisely deserving is in need of it. And once you have reached Geneva-"

"Geneva!" he snorted. "I learned today that he has fled to Canada! Catch me going there!"

"Well, you will escort your sister there instead. I suggest that you stay there. In fact, if you ever return to this country, you will almost certainly hang."

As we had arranged, Hansard was carefully watching not me or Stourton, but Lady Grenfell. In a moment he was at her side, producing smelling salts and pressing her back into her chair. "Nay, your ladys.h.i.+p please remain seated. I cannot answer for your health otherwise." As he plied the vinaigrette, he most deftly unfastened her necklace.

"Hang? Why should a gentleman hang?" Stourton asked insolently, but with a pallor that suggested he knew exactly why.

"For sending an innocent man to the gallows. That poor wretch whom you identified in court, ma'am, was entirely innocent, as I am sure you know. You recognized your son as he robbed you. What words you exchanged subsequently I can only imagine. But I suspect that you demanded the return of your property as the price of your silence a reasonable request, after all. What mother would want her son to swing? Accordingly, your necklace was returned. As a gesture of remorse, your son had even had it cleaned. It looked very fine. But in fact, Lady Grenfell, your son reneged on the deal. He had the necklace copied." So much had Mr Bridge confirmed. "Indeed, these are but trumpery beads!" Hansard concluded, casting them at her feet.

"Do you now object to Stourton's journey abroad?" I asked. "I cannot think so, because he will of course be escorting you, ma'am. You may have had no hand in the robbery, but you committed perjury of the very worst sort. You sent an innocent man to a hideous death. You deserve you both deserve to be handed over to the law this very evening. But we will be generous where you were not. We will give you till tomorrow night to quit these sh.o.r.es forever, with a written undertaking that you will never return and, of course, why. Go now. I fear our dinner engagement must be cancelled."

"At least poor Honoria will have her mother beside her when she marries," Mama declared sentimentally. "And when she delivers her child."

"I think not, ma'am," Hansard said, staring down at the fire. "You tell me that she has long cried wolf in the matter of her health. So I fear that no one will take any notice at her next spasm or the next but one. But I can tell you that her pulse indicates the most serious of heart conditions. She will not reach Canada if the crossing is rough."

"She would be buried at sea?" I asked slowly.

"In all probability."

"Then truly G.o.d moves in mysterious ways. I thought that we had let the pair off lightly. But now it seems that poor William is truly avenged after all."

SPECIAL DELIVERY.

Adrian Magson.

NUMBER 184, CEDAR Point Road stood in about two isolated acres on a narrow, winding road leading into the hills of North Carolina's southern Appalachians. Out front was a mailbox on a pole, the kind with a little flag so you can see if anything has been delivered. The box had been drilled with an ominous-looking hole.

I thumbed the entry-phone on one of the stone pillars and waited while the insects and heat and silence settled around me like an itchy blanket.

"Yeah?" A reedy voice came from the entry-phone.

"Jake Crompton to see Mr Krasky," I announced, and wondered if they had a fishpond I could throw myself into for a day or two.

"Who?"

"Jake Crompton-"

"No. Who're you after?" The voice sounded testy, as if I'd spoiled an afternoon nap with my d.a.m.n-fool question.

"Mr Krasky. Gus Krasky?"

"Oh. Gus. Why didn't you say so? Are you the guy from England?"

"Yes."

"C'mon in." There was a buzz and the gates began to trundle open on their tracks.

I drove up a curving drive and stopped in front of an impressive plantation-style house with a clapboard front. Twin pillars stood either side of a gleaming black door mounted with a scroll-shaped bra.s.s knocker. The windows of the house were blanked off by heavy curtains, lending the place a deserted, even desolate air.

As I stepped out of the car a man appeared at the side of the house. He was carrying a pair of shears and wore leather gardening gloves. Under his weathered baseball cap he was burned a deep tan and looked about ninety.

"Hey-up, young fella," he greeted me, and beckoned me to follow him. "Gus said you was comin'." His voice was as reedy in the flesh as it had been over the entry-phone. "He's out seein' some people 'n said to wait. I'm Frank."

I told him that was fine, and on the way round the side of the house asked him about the mailbox with a hole in it.

"Bullet hole," he replied shortly. "Dumb kids with a squirrel gun." He gave me a knowing look. "I'm guessin' that don't happen much where you come from."

"No," I told him. "Our kids use Semtex."

We arrived on a terrace bordering a fifty-foot swimming pool. It was overlooked by a double set of french doors beneath a large balcony. It looked like the set of "High Society", where Grace fenced with Frank before opting for Bing.