The Case of the Missing Cross Page 2

  “Virgil, please bring the tea tray.”

  “As you wish, my lady.” The butler quit the room. Lady Sybil sighed deeply and studied her well-manicured fingernails.

  After tea cups were handed around, Justin could hold his silence no longer. “Lady Sybil, forgive my presumption, but the longer we wait to hear your tale, the further away the culprit can run.”

  The implication spurred Lady Sybil’s tongue into action. “A fortnight ago, I attended a ball at Fareweather Hall in honor of Miss Eudora’s twenty-first birthday. I was in company until the wee hours of the morning. It seems that, in my absence, a letter arrived, penned in my hand and giving my servants the evening off. My butler, Virgil, questioned the missive but after reading it several times over, he was finally convinced it was legitimate. The servants left to pursue their own pleasure and the house was locked.

  “When I arrived home later that evening, tired from the revelry, I was forced to open my own door.” Her inflection expressed the horror of such an event, and Magnolia rounded her mouth. Lady Sybil shook her head. “This led me to search the house for my servants. They were not to be found, however, so I prepared myself and retired to bed.”

  “You didn’t send your driver to find the servants?” Magnolia asked.

  Justin delighted at her growing interest. But again he kept his response well hidden.

  Lady Sybil sighed. “I fear not. Of course I had already sent the driver and footman around to the stable with the horses, and once I was inside and aware of my empty home, I was too weary to secure their assistance.”

  “So when did you discover the cross was missing?” Justin leaned forward and planted his elbows on his thighs.

  “The very next morning, when I questioned Virgil about the servants’ absence. He explained the letter and showed it to me, and I studied it thoroughly. The note had indeed been penned by me but was several years old, and I’d forgotten I’d ever written or kept it. The thought that someone had scoured my desk drawers and discovered it caused me the gravest fears. I insisted the servants bring out all my precious possessions. Everything was present, but then I remembered the cross. A quick glance in my late husband’s safe revealed the worst. The cross was gone!”

  Magnolia laid her hands demurely upon her lap, a sign she planned to discover the truth. Justin smiled. Her gesture brought back old memories of investigating the woodland behind his father's estate in search of his mother’s bonnet. She had sat on a smooth stone, folded her hands just so, and questioned objects and passing creatures as if they could have answered her.

  Her tone remained warm and social. “Mr. Blakemoor has shared scant details, so I must ask. What is so important about this particular cross?”

  “Oh!” The good lady’s eyes widened, as if in shock. “I thought all of Bath and London knew of my cross. Apparently not.”

  Magnolia’s cheeks reddened, as if properly scolded, and Justin wished he'd explained further to save her embarrassment. He would not be so remiss in the future.

  Lady Sybil sipped her tea and then set the cup aside. “The cross was carried during the Third Crusade as a holy icon, but after Richard the First returned to England it was lost. Two hundred years ago, during an excavation of an old church in Greece, it was discovered and retrieved by the Roman Catholic Church.

  “The cross passed through several hands before a private collector purchased it to display at a museum, but before it could be presented, the cross was stolen. This was how Lord Grenville happened upon it. Before he perished, he sought a museum able to secure it for public viewing, but everyone feared it being stolen again, and now I have done just that.” She dropped her head into her hands.

  Her story didn’t exactly match what he’d heard elsewhere — although fifty years of history was being summarized. Justin wanted to ask for more details, but Lady Sybil’s shoulders shook and he couldn’t bring himself to interrupt her grief.

  Magnolia’s caring instincts were underdeveloped, but she did scoot closer to the elderly gentlewoman and pat her back in an awkward manner. “There, there.” She stared at him over Lady Sybil’s shoulder, perhaps hoping for assistance, and perhaps questioning the discrepancy between Lady Sybil’s explanation and his own.

  Lady Sybil lifted her head and dabbed a handkerchief to her cheeks and eyes. “So, will you accept the challenge?”

  Without hesitation, Justin blurted, “Yes.”

  Chapter Three: Tyrrel’s Party

  Back in the carriage, Magnolia screwed up her face. “I don’t know what you hope to accomplish.”

  “Why, I hope to find the cross and a collector worthy to house it.”

  “And what of the story Lady Sybil told? She said the cross was stolen before her husband purchased it. Does she believe he purchased it from a thief? Or no? What if we begin the search and it does nothing but tarnish the family name? Hmm? And what leads do you have? An empty house and a retrieved letter?” Magnolia feared for Justin’s sanity. He was sending them on a merry goose-chase — but if she was honest, what else did she have to do?

  “We have plenty! We shall start with those who attended Eudora’s party. Point one, only someone actually present could be certain Lady Sybil wasn’t home. She did say the head butler received the note after her departure. Point two, someone at the party gained repeated access to Lady Sybil’s house. That was how they entered the first time to retrieve the note and the second time to steal the cross.”

  “There were at least one hundred people in attendance at Eudora’s party! How are we to narrow the list of attendees to those who might have had access to the Grenville estate without drawing attention to ourselves?”

  Justin grimaced. “Therein lies the complication, but I do have a solution.”

  “You do?” She should have known. Even when he’d been merely her childhood friend, Justin had always had a plan to enact justice.

  “Of course.” He drew himself erect, as if steeling his backbone. “However, it will require a great deal of sacrifice.”

  And when had that not been the case? She sighed loudly and opened her hand, palm up.

  “You will be required to attend every party among the ton,” he paused, “with me as your escort.”

  She arched a brow.

  “Attendance as a couple will relieve suspicion when we spend time searching the premises together.”

  “Ah.” She fought the blush that threatened to scorch her face. Being seen on the arm of the most charming man in Bath could only benefit her, even if it was an act.

  Justin still babbled. “This way, no one will question our whispered conversations, either.”

  “Agreed.” But her heart hammered against her ribs at the thought of spending so much time with Justin. They were naught more than chums. He delighted in teasing and making her blush, but truly his heart lay elsewhere. Hesper Rotherham had drawn his attention. She wouldn’t be surprised if he planned to ask the headmaster for her hand — which could have been why he’d had the row with Liam Filbee. She would do well to remember that, lest her own heart be crushed.

  “Good.” His lips teased upward as he leaned back against the carriage’s seat and crossed his legs. “At the parties, once we are inside, we will make a list of the guests. Afterward we will discuss them with Lady Sybil.”

  “You are assuming the thief will attend every ball, soiree, concert, and entertainment of the season.”

  “I assure you that I’m assuming much more.”

  While watching his lips, Magnolia chewed hers. “Since other robberies have occurred, it begs the question: why have they not been reported?” She always read the newspapers — and the gossip sheets, of course. And she’d seen no mention of such.

  He shrugged again. “Perhaps the other items, those not reported, were trivial, and perhaps presumed to have been stolen by a servant. My personal belief is that the thieves are working up to a bigger prize — although the crusader’s cross was a big find.”

  “It should help that not many kn
ew Lady Sybil owned the cross.”

  “It would have a few months ago.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “A displaced footman found himself at a tavern, fell into a drunken stupor, and told everyone present of the cross’s existence.”

  Magnolia covered her mouth. “So he might have alerted the thieves!”

  “Precisely!” Justin puffed out his chest.

  Oh, dear. She was beginning to understand. “So we attend the balls, construct a guest list, run it by Lady Sybil, and then…”

  “…then we look for similarities between the other thefts. Such as, were the other houses completely empty? Did the staff receive a letter from their employer dismissing them for the night? It is my firm belief a pattern will emerge and we will find our culprit, and subsequently our cross will be handed to us on a silver platter.”

  “When does the fun begin?” She felt her lips twitch upward and her pulse increase.

  “Tomorrow night,” he said with a lilt of delight in his tone.

  ****

  Magnolia stood before the full-length mirror. Her blue muslin day gown had a high waist, neat puffy sleeves, and a low square neckline. She scratched her collarbone. A house seamstress had added a lacy chemisette for modesty, which irritated her sensitive skin.

  “Please assist me in changing, Lenoir.”

  The lady’s maid jumped from her waiting stool and rushed to untie the back of the gown.

  In nothing but her stays and pantaloons, Magnolia padded barefoot to her bureau. Gowns of various colors and fabrics stroked her hand as she flipped past them. What should she wear to Tyrrel’s party?

  Her fingers glided over the golden silk, and she paused, but quickly moved past. While the waistline was higher than the blue gown, and it was without the irritating chemisette, the golden gown wasn’t quite warm enough for the weather.

  Even as she continued to search, her mind wandered back to the golden gown. If she grew cold, would Justin offer her his greatcoat? Would the fabric smell of him?

  She palmed her chin and leaned against the bureau. The party was not about impressing Justin or anyone else. She was on a case. A case to assist Lady Sybil Peppercorn, Baroness of Grenville, in finding a lost treasure. How had she let Justin talk her into such an activity?

  Once more she stepped before the mirror. “Lenoir, bring me the golden gown.”

  The lady’s maid grabbed the gown and helped her dress. Once all the golden ribbons were in place, Magnolia twisted from side to side. The sleeves were longer than the blue and the waistline even higher, but it seemed something was missing.

  “What do you think, Lenoir?”

  “Very beautiful, my lady.”

  She sighed. “I like it well enough, if only the material were a tad thicker.”

  “Perhaps we could find a canezou that would match?”

  “Nice thought, but I fear that nothing would match this golden color. However, I believe I will bring one along and leave it in the retiring room. It never hurts to be prepared.”

  A bell rang below.

  “Oh, my, is the hour so late? I must hurry.” She stuffed contrasting material into the neckline and drew on her gloves. Earlier Lenoir had arranged her hair to perfection, so she left her bonnet on its stand.

  “Will I do?”

  “Aye, my lady.”

  “Thank you. Please straighten up my room and then take the evening off. I will be home quite late, I fear.”

  Lenoir curtseyed, and Magnolia strode from her room and down the stairs. The carriage waited on the street. A footman opened the door and she climbed inside. The carriage jerked into motion, and she leaned back and drew in a breath. A smile twitched at her lips. Wonder what Justin will wear? He was a dapper dresser, a feature of his behavior she much admired.

  ****

  Justin sipped at a glass of Chablis and perused the list of upcoming balls. His eyes blurred at the length. Every family seemed to be offering a daughter to the world, or celebrating a life-changing event, or just throwing their home open to all and sundry.

  Tonight’s festivities were at the home of Polidor Tyrrel. His parents had passed in a boating accident and left young Polidor as heir to an amassed fortune. Rumor had it that Tyrrel was ill-equipped for managing an estate. He’d been removed from university and had spent his free time hopping the Continent. If the Tyrrel fortune remained in existence with Tyrrel’s hands at the helm, it would be a miracle.

  Justin stood before the looking glass and tugged at the hem of his coat. The freshly laundered breeches ended at silk stockings and black dancing shoes. The ruffled cravat peeked above his white waistcoat. Curls wafted upward around the nape of his neck.

  Would Magnolia appreciate the effort he’d expended on her behalf?

  The thought of enjoying Magnolia’s company for an entire evening — nay, for many evenings! — brought him immense pleasure. One day he would overcome his reticence and tell her how he felt, but today wasn’t that day. For now he would enjoy her witty banter and help her realize they were better together. Magnolia wouldn’t be satisfied with conventional methods of courtship, where the man asked for the woman’s hand. No, she would need to assume she’d made the choice. But what would it hurt if he helped her see what was clearly before her?

  Keane opened the door. “Forgive me for the intrusion, my lord, but Miss Quinn’s carriage has arrived.”

  “Thank you, Keane. Tell Miss Quinn I shall be right down.”

  The door closed and he glanced once more in the mirror before grabbing his hat and cane. He descended the wide staircase with his shoulders thrust back. But halfway down, his breath caught. Posed on the landing, Magnolia wore a gown of shimmering gold. White lace decorated the plunging neckline. Her mahogany hair was gathered at the base of her neck in a loose chignon, pearls gleaming in its folds. White gloves reached to her elbows.

  “Chop, chop, Justin! We don’t want to be late.”

  A smile teased his lips. Yes, Magnolia is the woman for me. “Coming, darling.”

  She didn’t even blink at the endearment. No doubt she assumed he meant it in a brotherly fashion, which brought a measure of resentment that he stuffed down and refused to think on. Her brother was not the role he longed to play.

  At the foot of the steps, he planted a chaste kiss on her cheek. How could he stop the horses of his admiration from bolting out of the stables when she looked so beautiful and sounded so sassy? He wanted to grab her and kiss her with quite a bit more gusto than a peck on the cheek, but alas, while they were but friends, the innocent kiss would have to do.

  He clapped his gloved hands together. “We’d best be on our way. Chop, chop.”

  Without waiting for her, he strode ahead to the waiting barouche. She huffed behind him, but he couldn’t miss her soft footfalls as she followed. As they settled within the carriage’s confines, he stifled a smile, satisfied that he’d gotten in the last word and a bit of affection.

  Magnolia asked, “Are we ready?”

  “Yes. I have a paper hidden within the folds of my waistcoat. As the guests arrive, we will list their names.”

  She nodded, and the barouche drove away.

  On the short drive to Tyrrel’s estate, Magnolia fidgeted, tapping her foot and chewing her lip. Had he anticipated her trepidation, he would have hesitated to include her. Or would he?

  “Darling, do be still. No one will accost you at the ball, I promise.”

  Magnolia’s lips twitched upward, but quickly changed course and settled downward. “Father was not happy about my desire to attend Tyrrel’s celebration. Apparently the man’s reputation as a rogue precedes him.”

  Justin squeezed her hand, allowing her warmth to spread over him. “I could have promised your father that you wouldn’t leave my side.”

  “I don’t know that it would have sufficed.” She stared at their clasped hands. A sigh left her parted lips. “Yesterday Father began discussing my unmarried status.”

  “Oh?” He ro
unded his mouth in genuine curiosity. What would he do if Jules Quinn pressured his daughter to marry an eligible bachelor not himself? Why, he would shrivel up and die, and his stomach attempted to do just that at the thought.

  Magnolia looked at him, her intense green eyes searing his soul. “I fear my days of freedom and fancy will draw to a close sooner than I’d hoped.”

  He rubbed her knuckles with the pad of his finger. “Then we shall enjoy them whilst they last.”

  She drew her hands back and folded them in her lap. “I’m afraid your answer is not that satisfying.”

  “Then what if I throw my hat in the ring for your hand? Would that satisfy you?” He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, awaiting his beloved’s reaction.

  She blinked rapidly and slapped him on the forearm with her fan. “Do not even jest about such matters. To get up my father’s hopes on a matter of such import might strain his already suspect heart.”

  He swallowed back his words of confession. Perhaps a discussion with the elderly Quinn was in order. After all, they wouldn’t be required to marry immediately. If Jules knew of Justin’s desire for Magnolia’s hand, it should be enough to stave off any further concern of losing her to another. Although maintaining Jules’s silence would be an entirely different matter. He was the boastful sort.

  “Oh, do stop brooding over my troubles. We have a mystery to solve.”

  Magnolia’s renewed energy was infectious. Before the barouche halted at the Tyrrel town house, both of them were leaning forward and discussing their strategy.

  Chapter Four: The Game

  Guests lined the walk. Justin held out his arm, and Magnolia laid her hand upon his. They sauntered toward the entrance, finally getting a good look at those guests, and Magnolia whispered, “There seems to be quite the sampling of people here tonight.”