A Collector of Hearts (8 page)

“I was certain it was to do
with politics,” said Caroline. “I thought someone was trying to assassinate the
prince. Perhaps I should have gone for the more basic idea. Simple greed.
Someone is trying to steal the Cariastan Heart. But how did you know something
was going on? I’ve only just worked that out myself, and I had good reason. You
only met me in the lane and what? You decided something was going on. Is it me
you don’t trust? Because of my parents?” Caroline felt her heart drop. Despite
everything Aunt Millie had taught her, she realised that the fear had always
been inside her. That she would be judged on her parents’ behaviour. She had
simply pushed it aside, trying to be sensible about it. Unfortunately she was
quickly coming to realise that other people were not sensible about such
things. They mattered. Or, she thought to herself, perhaps only Blake’s opinion
mattered. It was true that she did not care a jot what Mrs Oakengate or others
thought. She despised herself for needing Blake’s approval, yet realised sadly
that she did.

“I trust you, Caroline.” She
could not see him, but she could feel his warm breath on her face. “All I ask
is that, for now, you trust me. Please.” He put his hand on her shoulder, and
she had to admit she liked the feel of it there. It was a comforting weight,
which made her feel protected.

“Why can’t you tell me
everything?”

He reached up and stroked
her cheek. The sensation of being alone in the dark with him, feeling his
touch, almost destroyed her equilibrium. “You could end up getting hurt, and I
want you to be safe.”

           
“I can take care of myself.”

           
“I don’t doubt it, but it would be nice if you let me
take care of you a little too.”

           
She sensed his mouth close to hers and fought the
compulsion to find his lips with her own. She did not put up much of a fight.
Seconds later he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. They clung together
in the dark. Caroline savoured the sheer sensuality of having every sense but
one’s sight. The taste of his lips, the feel of his silky hair beneath her
fingertips, the aroma of his body, the sound of his breathing in rhythm with
hers. She knew then that she was in love with him. She also knew that he would
break her heart, but for that moment she did not care. She would gladly follow
him anywhere and worry about the consequences afterwards.

They arrived in the cellar,
which in daytime was illuminated by the light from a high window, looking dusty
and sheepish, the spell having been broken. “I’d better go and find Mrs
Oakengate,” said Caroline. “She needs to be warned about the Cariastan Heart.”
She began to walk away, but Blake pulled her back for one last kiss.

           
“Be careful, my love,” he said. “Don’t go doing anything
brave whilst I’m not there to protect you.”

           
“Then you’d better come with me, because facing Mrs
Oakengate requires an act of courage all of its own.”

           
“Sadly,” he said, smiling, “I’m not quite that brave. Go
on, I want to look around down here for a while and see if I can find anymore
clues.”

           
Caroline walked towards the cellar steps then stopped.
“There is one thing that’s bugging me.”

           
“What is that?”

           
“Why is someone coming to our room at night, whilst we’re
there? Surely it makes more sense to search it when we’re out, as they did
today.”

           
“Except that during the day they have to come through the
kitchens to reach the cellar door. They’d be seen by the servants.”

           
“Why not today?”

           
“With Stephens out of action, it’s all hands on deck for
the ball tonight. The kitchen was empty when I came through it.”

           
“Did you pass anyone on your way to the kitchen?”

           
“A few guests were milling around the hallway, some were
in the drawing room.”

           
“I wonder what other rooms lead into the secret
passageway.”

           
“I don’t know. Perhaps we should come back tonight, when
everyone is busy dancing and find out for ourselves. Is it a date?”
          

           
Caroline smiled. “Well, it’s not up there with a movie,
dinner and dancing, but it’s a start. It still doesn’t make sense to me.
Whoever it is risks being caught in our room. Each time I’ve been awoken.
Though … we’ve both been really tired last thing at night. I think someone
might have drugged us.”

           
“Yes, that’s possible. It should have put you out of
action.”

           
“But I managed to wake up.”

           
“And you’ve seen Lady Cassandra. Has it occurred to you
that the person is dressing up as our resident ghost? That way if anyone sees
her – or him – they think they’ve seen the ghost. The fact that they disappear
into the panelling helps to solidify the effect.”

           
“Except that Lady Cassandra warned me about Stephens. And
the night before last she warned me there was danger.”

           
“She did? You never told me that.”

           
“Because I thought you’d laugh at me. That’s why I was
down here this morning. She woke me and said ‘Stephens’. Unless our crook has a
conscience and didn’t really want to hurt him.”

           
“Do you believe that?”

           
“No. But it’s the only rational explanation, Blake.”

           
“It could be your subconscious. You sense there’s danger
and …”

           
“My subconscious pulls Stephens’ name out of a hat as the
person most likely to be knocked out?”

           
“When you put it like that, I agree it sounds unlikely.”

           
“I really do have to go,” said Caroline. Trying to work
out the connotations of it all was giving her a headache. “Lunch will be served
soon and if I’m not there, Mrs Oakengate is apt to get cross.”

           
“When this is all over, Caroline, we’ll run away
together.”

           
“Will we?” She was delighted to know he thought that far
ahead. At least beyond a brief flirtation on Halloween weekend.

           
“Oh yes.”

           
“Why do we have to run away? Can’t we just be together
anywhere?”

           
He took her hand and kissed her palm, sending a shiver
running through her. “No. I want you all to myself with no other distractions
or responsibilities.”

Caroline wanted to believe
he meant all he said. And for a moment she did. By the time she had found Mrs
Oakengate and helped her to the dining room, reality hit her. He was the
grandson of a rich hotel magnate, and she was not only a servant, but also the
daughter of two notorious spies. What had Mrs Oakengate and the prince said?
That one must stick to one’s own kind. As much as she disapproved, she was
forced to admit they were probably right, to a certain extent. After all, the
prince’s father had married a chambermaid and it had not worked out at all.
Would it work if she did run away with Blake? Or would he soon tire of her, and
find distractions amongst his own class as it was rumoured the prince’s father
had?

           
She sat down to eat her lunch and looked around her. Who
did she really know in this room? Mrs Oakengate, of course. But she would
hardly be trying to steal her own diamond, unless for insurance purposes, and
that seemed a little far fetched. There would be much easier ways to have it
stolen than coming to an abbey in the middle of nowhere for a week.

Anna Anderson, she knew a
little, but even so, Anna had been with Caroline when they saw someone up in
the bedroom window, so that ruled her out. She did not know the actress Anna
worked for at all, but had a feeling the girl would be far too stupid to find
her way through the secret passage.

Neither did she know much
about the Hendersons, though it occurred to her that the cost of hiring the
abbey, and of putting on the week’s entertainment suggested they had enough
money already so did not need to steal the Cariastan Heart. Not that it ruled
them out completely. Sometimes even people with a lot of money wanted even more
of it. And Jack Henderson was looking a bit worried. However, that might be
because the owner had suddenly turned up. It was hard to feel at home in
someone else’s house, especially if one feels the owner might be looking over
one’s shoulder.

Count Chlomsky was a bit of
a mystery, but he had known Mrs Oakengate for many years, and besides, Caroline
could not imagine such an elderly gentleman managing the climb up and down the
steps in the secret passageway.

There were other guests
whose names she had all but forgotten, having had the briefest of conversation
with them, and then only passing comments on the dreadful weather and how
charming their hosts were. It could be anyone of them. A clever burglar would
probably not draw attention to themselves, so may well stay on the sidelines.
The problem was that every one of the guests knew that the Cariastan Heart was
going to be there. It had been reported in the gossip columns.

 
Blake joined them all a few minutes later,
winking across the table at her. She smiled, because she could do little else
when with him. He made life interesting and exciting.

           
“Caroline,” said Mrs Oakengate. “I have a little surprise
for you later.”

           
“Really?”

           
“Yes, I’m tired of seeing you in that plain black satin
thing. I’ve got you something to wear to the masked ball tonight.”

           
“Oh … erm … thank you, Mrs Oakengate.” Caroline was
flummoxed. It was very unlike Mrs Oakengate to show such generosity. Perhaps,
she thought, she had been a little unkind to her employer.

           
“It will be a hoot for everyone,” said Mrs Oakengate.
Caroline liked the sound of that less. She hoped that Mrs Oakengate had not
bought her some silly clown or vampire outfit, but it seemed clear she was not
allowed to ask.

           
“What are you going to be dressed as, Mrs Oakengate?”
asked Anna Anderson.

           
“I shall just come as myself, wearing a mask. I am too
old for fancy dress costumes. I shall leave that to the younger generation. And
you, Your Highness?” Mrs Oakengate turned to the prince. “What shall you wear?”

           
“I shall be wearing my heart on my sleeve for you, dear
lady.”

           
Caroline saw a small smile playing on the lips of Count
Chlomsky, but there was also sadness behind his eyes. He really did have it bad
for Mrs Oakengate. What a pity she could not see it. To Caroline’s mind the
elderly, but courtly, Count was a much more suitable partner for her employer.

           
“I believe, Mrs Oakengate,” said the Count, “that with
your indomitable spirit you should go as Boudicca.”

           
“I did once play her in a production,” said Mrs
Oakengate, smiling. Her smile suggested she was not averse to the Count. “But
we were closed down on the first night. I only wanted authenticity. How was I
to know that having real horses would cause so much trouble?” That was followed
by general laughter around the table, even though Mrs Oakengate did not seem
aware that she had said anything amusing.

           
“You must have lots of stories from your acting days,”
said Caroline. In truth she had heard many of them, but it made her employer happy
to go over them again, especially with a new audience. “Tell me about your tour
in Cariastan.”

           
“Oh that. Well, I was very young then, and playing Nora
in A Doll’s House. We had to change the ending of that for some countries, you
know. The authorities would not tolerate a wife walking out on her husband.”

           
“And then you met my father,” said Prince Henri.

           
“Oh yes. He was so handsome, with his dark hair and …”
Mrs Oakengate stopped and stared across the table, before turning her head to
the prince and searching his face as if she hoped to find something there. She
suddenly looked very old and very confused. “Oh … I seem to have missed my cue.
As we say in the theatre.” Her face was first ashen white, then flushed and
covered in a light film of perspiration.

           
“Are you alright, Mrs Oakengate?” asked Caroline. “Can I
get you anything?”

           
“I’d rather like some water please. Of course, it can’t
be so. No. I’m being silly. My old mind playing tricks on me.” Mrs Oakengate
looked as if she were about to cry.

           
“What?” asked Caroline. “What is it?” She held out some
water, but Mrs Oakengate appeared to have forgotten she asked for it.

           
Mrs Oakengate stood up, but was unsteady on her feet.
Caroline caught her arm. “I’m not as big a fool as people take me for,” said Mrs
Oakengate.

           
“No, of course you’re not,” said Caroline, who felt very
frightened by Mrs Oakengate’s sudden loss of spirit. “What is it? What’s
brought this on?”

           
“If you don’t mind, I should like to lie down now. Will
you take me upstairs please?”