Read A Thief Before Christmas Online
Authors: Jennifer McGowan
A Thief Before Christmas (2 page)
Clodpole Bailey?
Theodore cleared a seat on the bench for me, and I cast a wary glance to the knot of magistrates who stood at loose attention throughout the room. They were tense but not focused. They had not yet found their mark. Or mayhap they did not have a villain at all to chase, but were hoping one would spring out of the woodwork.
James was making his way over to us as Theodore eased me onto the bench, disrupting two half-drunken men to tuck me up against the wall. I looked at Theodore with renewed appreciation. He knew I was the one with the goods. He wanted me safely away from being accosted by outsiders, but also held tight, unable to escape. From the look on his face as he approached, James realized it, too.
“Clodpole, well met!” Theodore announced as James set our mugs of ale on the table. “Miss Eunice here was just telling me of your success. How can I help you celebrate a very merry Christmas?”
James's smile was all teeth, and I wondered at it. Was he truly put off by his associate's joking address? How well did these two men know each other? I did wish Theodore would simmer down, in any event. His braying voice would be remembered by one and all, even in such a throng as this. Then the two of them cast me a glance, and I smiled, ready to play my part.
“Of course, I deserve a bauble or six.” I shrugged, still faintly aghast that we were going to perform this transaction under the very noses of the magistrates. “An' we have the money. How many options shall I have?”
I saw James give the signal to Theodore, and the dealer's eyes widened with appreciation. “An' you have the money,” he said staunchly to James. “I could offer you
six
lovely jewels, all worth our new Queen-to-be's ransom.”
Six. I nodded, contemplating that as James helped to clarify. “Then they shall be your largest six, for we have a great deal of money, my friend.” He said the last words pointedly. “A
great
deal.”
“Allow us to put my goods to the test, then, shall we?”
And this was the most delicate part. We three thieves, hemmed all around by noise and crooks and lawmen, were about to lay money and jewels down on a broad board of a table for the entire world to see.
It made a certain sort of sense. Who but an honest man would do business in the open? Still, I felt my fingers twitch as I tucked them under the table, freeing the first of the jewels from my waistband. Because there was an additional complexity to our plan: We needed money from Theodore, butâin our guises as money-flush craftsmen looking for a pretty bauble or sixâTheodore was ostensibly selling us
his
jewels. We had to look like we were buying stones from him, not trading him a pile of stolen jewels for his coin. A sleight of hand was necessary to make this all work, and it was a tricky one at that.
The transaction proceeded with the precision of a dance. Theodore and James shook hands to commence the negotiations, with James neatly palming a handful of coins that he then cast out over the table. I, exclaiming at the potential danger of losing our hard-earned shillings, made a great show of gathering up the coins, even as Theodore hastened to help me. As we did so, my double-palmed jewels of amethyst, emerald, ruby, and sapphire traded hands neatly, until, at the end of the game, there were six lovely stones lined up on the table in front of Theodore, and a neat stack of coins in front of James and myself.
Master James began to glower credibly at all and sundry, a righteous merchant protecting his money even as he sought to purchase baubles with it. And I, at length, professed myself quite unable to choose among the stones; I had to have all six. James and Theodore haggled a bit more, with James obligingly adding more to the pile of coin, and Theodore, regretfully, pocketing one of the precious jewels.
One down,
I thought.
Just as we were about to finish the transaction with our final misdirection, a shadow fell between us. We looked up with broad and relieved smiles, though all of us to a one were doubtless sweating streams. I certainly was.
“An odd place for a business exchange.” The oily magistrate breathed stale ale over us, but in truth we were doing nothing wrong. I tried favoring the man with a sweet smile, but before I could fob him off, Theodore sighed lustily and reached for the man's hand.
What in the . . . ?
Only a seasoned criminal would have noted the exchange of coin between the two, and I fought to keep my brows in place, though they both wanted to climb my forehead in a mad dash to see which would reach my hairline first.
Theodore had a magistrate in his pocket? Well, this was good news indeed.
“I canna thank you enough for your kind protection,” Theodore said, his voice at least two octaves higher, and he seemed to shrink in upon himself. “'Tis a terrible thing that all of England is overrun with cutpurses and thieves, but at least here in Leeds we are protected, an' I thank you for it.”
“Of course, good sir.” The magistrate's grin was equally toothy, even as I saw him finger the coin in his hand, no doubt trying to gauge its size. Well, I had seen it: The magistrate would be buying a fat Christmas hen, for certain. Master James, for his part, lolled back and away, casually quaffing his ale. When the magistrate turned his gaze to me, I did my best to look winsome and stupid. This appeared to do the trick, as the little man straightened and nodded to us, then turned to scowl at the occupants of our neighboring tables. The message was clear:
These people are under my protection. Stay away.
“Friend of yours?” drawled James as the magistrate thumped off.
Theodore shrugged. “After a fashion. I've learned that a double layer of lies often nets you more than twice the protection.” He glanced down then frowned as he noted that one of the jewels was now gone from the table. “Wot's this?!”
“Your
protection
is costing me time,” James said to him. “So our price just went up. Now, we've other places to be. Is it a fair deal?”
Theodore puffed his lip out, but I knew the value of the stones we were offering him, and he did too. He would make a tidy margin if he had buyers for the jewels. Which he no doubt did.
“Ah, very well,” he muttered. “Let me just get your pouches.”
That was the signal for the ending stage of the dance. For, of course, we weren't actually buying the stones from Theodore; he was buying them from us. Still, if anyone was watching, we needed to keep up the ruse that we were prosperous merchants purchasing pretty baubles after a particularly good year. So, by the end of this exchange, we must look as if we had jewels for our troubles while Theodore had money in hand.
Thus the game began. And, as ten identical pouches were opened and monies and stones placed within, then were passed around, then passed again, then were tucked away and out of sight, well . . . who was to know into wh
ose pocket went the precious gems, and into whose pocket went the coin?
We chatted then but briefly, each of us swallowing great draughts of ale. Then we stood to take our leave.
And that's when the screaming started.
CHAPTER THREE
Someone had turned us in! It was the only explanation.
My stomach plunged as I joined Master James and Theodore to throng toward the door with the other curious tavern-goers, the magistrates at the fore. Though the Golden Rose acting troupe was very good at picking pockets, even we were not perfect. There was always the risk of a mark getting jostled or a particularly shrewd nobleman realizing that he was somewhat lighter in the linen. Not too often, though, truth to tell. Other than Tommy, the members of the Golden Rose chose our targets carefully. We needed to, to keep our hands attached to our bodies.
I glanced to the side as we pushed through the crowd. I could see the fear pinching Master James's eyes even as it ate at my nerves, but we'd both been trained too long and too well to betray any overt concern. We were good at thisâwe were good! What had happened?
I tried to remember the gawkers in the crowd whose pockets I'd rifled on my way into the inn. None of them had stood out as particularly bad marks.
Penny-pinchers we avoided, even though some held enough coin in their pockets to feed us for a month. Still, those men had an eerie way of knowing when a stray coin had just left their person. The obviously gullible we avoided as well. Someone would take their money eventually, but we didn't need to be the ones to ruin their day. Women were fair game, and children besides, but only the markedly affluent among them. One, because they had better jewels, and two, because they were often distracted, delicate members of the gentry class who'd just as easily lose a bauble as have it lifted.
But the scream that rang out over the courtyard of the Horse and Pony was not that of a delicate lady . . . but a fat, brawling matron who easily weighed fifteen stone.
“Get away from me, you vicious beast!” she howled, beating the neck of a wild-eyed horse, the animal's snout lifting up and away even as its rider fought to control the animal. Beside them, a slender slip of a woman tried to control the wailing shrew.
Instantly I saw what had happened, and I relaxed enough to give a short, coughing laugh. The woman's elaborate wigâfeaturing flowers, feathers, and even a few fake birdsâhad somehow gotten too close to the ornate reins of a gentleman's horse and was tangled up in the lacings. The more she tried to pull away, the more she became inextricably linked.
The girl beside her was doing her able best to assist, her small white hands flashing in and out of the woman's headdress, but with every section of hair she freed, another got caught.
Ever gallant, Master James leaped to the fore. I let him go even as Theodore squeaked beside me. “What is he doing? He cannot draw noticeâis he mad?”
Theodore clearly didn't know that, for our grandstanding troupe master, the easiest place to hide was at the center of everyone's attention. And, I suspected, James had a slightly more avaricious interest in the thrashing noblewoman, with her overstuffed velvet gown and thick, ebony cape. This would be something to see.
“Madame, madame!” James boomed. “Pray, calm yourself before you spook the horse!” Unfortunately, his good-natured assistance drew him nothing but fury as the woman instantly turned on the troupe master and proceeded to heap such vitriol upon James that even a few magistrates gasped.
There was nothing for it. I darted beside them both as the woman was focused on James, and palmed my knife from my gown. With a half dozen strokes, I sliced through the ends of the woman's wig and freed her.
“You stupid girl!” she screeched the moment she was loose. “You've ruined my wig!”
I'd expected this, of course. The woman spun away from the horse that now bolted to the left, grateful to be leaving the crazy people behind, while I dropped to the ground, gathering up the scattered scraps of lace and flowers and one very sad-looking stuffed finch that I sincerely hoped had never drawn breath.
“There must be an accounting!” the woman wailed. “You must repay me for ruining my headdress! I demand youâ”
“My lady!” I managed over her caterwauling. “I believe I have gathered up everything you've dropped?” And I pushed the lot of it toward her, shutting her up, as I knew I would with what I held in my hands. For in addition to the woman's bits of finery, I had added one of the Golden Rose's stolen jewels to the mix.
“Oh!” The old bat hiccupped, her demeanor instantly changing when she spied the fine stone. “Well, yes! Yes, of course, this is all mine. Thank you, girl, for your assistance in my time of need.”
She hauled the treasures to her impressive bosom and looked sharply at her companion. “Well, don't just stand there, girl!” she snapped. “You are worse than useless. Tell me you haven't lost anything, since you clearly couldn't manage to actually help me, as is your duty and charge?”
“Forgive me, aunt,” the young woman said miserably, and then I looked at her, too. She was well dressed, though plainly so, no extra shillings spent on ribbons or lace to beautify her dark woolen gown, no Christmas trimmings of bright red berries or rich holly leaves. Her gloves were fine leather, however, and she wore a lovely lace ruff at her neck and a prettily shaped hat atop her flaxen gold curls. Nothing like the monstrous display of the older woman. But it was the girl's eyes I noticed most. They looked almost too large in her face, wide and dusky blueâand were currently filled with panic as she fluttered first to her aunt, then scanned the ground, and then, almost absently, tapped the side of her skirts . . . and froze.
“I will be off then!” I said brightly, though my heart twisted just a bit to see the girl's ashen face as she glanced around desperately. I knew I did not want to be anywhere near when she announced she'd misplaced some bauble or bead. “I'm so happy I could help! Good day, mum!” I shouted this last as I turned smartly on my heel. The magistrates and most of the crowd had gone back into the inn, and I deliberately set off down the snow-packed street, as if I had something very important to do somewhere else.
Master James fell into step with me about forty paces later. We were moving through the craftsmen's district then, and I eyed the pretty little shops, now locked tight against the winter's chill.
“That was neatly done,” he allowed, and I smiled in the growing darkness. I had been improving my thieving skills alongside with my acting ones, and tonight's adventures had displayed both to fine advantage.
“Tell me we kept more than we gave away?” I muttered.
“And to spare. Here.”
I should not have been surprised that the first thing James pulled from under his cloak wasn't a stolen bauble but a meat pie. He shrugged at my laugh. “The crowd was hurrying out the door, and we'd not eaten yet. 'Twas nothing to take it from the serving tray. And it's still warm.”
He pulled out another for himself, and we devoured them in short order. In our line of work, you learned quickly to eat when food came to you; you never quite knew when it might again. James, as usual, was quicker than I was and already trailing his gloved hands through the snow to rid them of any vestiges of pastry as I popped the last of the pie into my mouth. By the time I'd fished out my own much-mended handkerchief, he had another prize to show me.
“Oh!” I gasped. “It's exquisiteâand of far greater value than the jewel I gave to the woman to still her tongue!”
“I thought so as well, though you did well to give what you did. That bauble you flipped the old crone will keep her cackling for days; it's bigger and grander than the one I stole from her, at least to the untrained eye. I suspect her husband or whatever poor soul is keeping her in finery will not notice that he is down one fine jewel and up one not so fine, but that is of no account.” He tossed the stone to me, and I caught it. “Providence provides,” he said.
“Providence provides,” I agreed.
We were nearing the Cock's Crow Inn, where we'd agreed to house Meredith and Matthias in anticipation of their Christmas baby. And now we could even pay for their rooms. Cheery light poured out of the windows, and the promise of heat and sleep was tempting. Still, I stayed Master James with a touch of my hand.
“Would youâwould you mind reading something for me?” I asked.
He eyed me curiously. “Read something? Whyever for?” He paused under one of the torches lighting the entryway. I pulled him just inside the door but not into the main hall. No need for us to freeze while he carried out my mad request.
I pulled out the letters I'd been carrying in my skirts and unceremoniously thrust them at James. He frowned more deeply. “What are these?”
“Letters, I should think,” I said tartly. “Iâ I wanted your help to read them, in case there were words I didn't know.”
“But where did you get . . . ?” He suddenly made the connection. “Tommy's letters? But they're worthless!”
“Not to their owner. Look at that, here. Those are wear marks. The writer had been carrying around these things in his pockets for who knows how long! Who does that?”
James furrowed his brows. “But why do you care?”
“Why do you not?” I asked, exasperated. “The letters could mean nothing at all and be little more than kindling. But what ifâwhat ifâoh, I don't know. What if they're the last remaining letters from a loved one? Or instructions on how to find a hidden treasure? Orâ”
“Meg!” James was laughing now, and I felt my cheeks redden. “I would never have taken you for a romantic.”
“Oh, leave off,” I grumbled. “If you'll not read the letters, I'll find someone else toâ”
“No, no. You've quite piqued my curiosity. But here, first off, the seals are of two different houses. This one I know, because we pass it every day.” He held out the crisper letter, its edges only faintly worn. The waxed seal bore the emblem of a sheep. “Master Dobbs and his house have made their money in the woolen market for the past generation, and their business is only expanding. There is money in that holding; I mark it plain. The other one”âhe moved it, and both of us caught the faint scent at the same timeâ“well, that's interesting. That's a letter from a woman, unless I miss my guess.” He blew out a long breath, considering. “Of course, she'd have to belong to one of the local homesteads, and a right rich one, besides, for her father to give her leave to learn how to write.”
“Are you just going to speculate, or can you not just read the letters?” Far from being slaked by Master James's guesses, my irritation was increasing. Why should a lady of breeding and quality
not
be given the right to learn how to read and write? What was the point in keeping such skills from someone who had the coin and time to master them?
“Patience, patience,” James gibed back, but he unsealed the first letter and handed it to me while he opened the second one wide.
I looked down at the lovely penmanship of the letter I held. The looping strokes of a deep, black ink, delicate and feminine and somehow intensely urgent. I wondered what secrets they held, but even as I squinted down studiously, James's soft chuckle had me glancing up again.
“Well, this is almost embarrassing,” he murmured, his eyes darting over the page. “Poor fellow has it so bad, heâ” Something stopped him then, and he looked down at his letter sharply, then over to mine.
“Give me that,” he said.
