Aunt Sophie's Diamonds (22 page)

She went downstairs and found her mama and Jonathon seated in the Crimson Saloon playing cards. Miss Bliss had not returned belowstairs.

"Has any company come while I was away, mama?” Claudia asked, knowing her mother was on tiptoe for the arrival of Mr. Blandings.

"Not a soul, and I might as well have gone to Chanely with you as not,” her mother replied angrily.

"Who was you expecting?” Jonathon asked suspiciously.

"No one,” Mrs. Milmont snapped. “Why should I be expecting anyone?"

"Seemed to me you both sounded as though you expected somebody to be arriving."

"No such a thing. It is only that Mr. Blandings knows I am here, and if he happened to be going to London from Marcyhurst, he might pop in to say ‘how do you do',” Mrs. Milmont admitted. “Tell me, Claudia, what did you do all afternoon at Chanely?"

"We played chess."

"Played chess!” her mother scolded. “Was there ever such a slow top as this girl. Such a fine opportunity to make yourself agreeable—not that Sir Hillary is not a good deal too old for you, of course—but there is no need to bore the man to distraction. What had you for dinner?"

Claudia enumerated a list of appetizing dishes that made Marcia wish more than ever she had joined her daughter for the feast.

"We
had mutton again,” she complained. “We must do better than that, Jonathon, when we return Sir Hillary's hospitality."

"You forget he was here last night to dinner."

"Don't be a ninnyhammer,” Marcia said sharply. “It would do you no harm to be on terms with Sir Hillary. You will be looking to make a good marriage now that you are a man of property, and you might meet all the heiresses at his London mansion if you buttered him up a little. Now that you have this property, you are not so ineligible, for even if it is a shambles, no one need see what it looks like. If you nab a girl with a good dowry, you can bring the place to rights."

This called to Jonathon's mind that Miss Milmont had a fine dowry, of unspecified proportions. Luane wasn't worth bothering about with her one little diamond, but someone had to get the load of blunt, and who was to say it wouldn't be Miss Milmont. “Would you care to give
me
a game of chess, Miss Milmont?” he asked.

"I have already had two games today,” she pointed out.

"Dull old game anyway,” he replied, relieved. “Would you care to see how I've arranged Aunt Sophie's room, now that I am moved into it?” he plunged on, having decided to amuse her in some manner.

She didn't look much interested, and her mama playfully slapped him with her fingers, saying he was a naughty boy to be trying to lure little Claudia away alone with him. “Run along and have a look, Claudia,” she added, now that she had given Jonathon a hint that he was to be naughty. It was hard getting such an unwise daughter settled.

"Very well, but let's hurry back,” Claudia said, “I want to be here when Sir Hillary brings the others back."

They went upstairs, and she observed a room unchanged from the morning but for the captain's brushes and personal paraphernalia decorating the dresser in place of Sophie's, and his polished boots standing in the corner, instead of Sophie's sewing basket.

"It's very nice,” she said, but without much enthusiasm.

"I've moved the clothespress over a couple of feet, you see, to make room for this chair with the hanger built onto the back. Be dandy for hanging up my jacket at night. Saves rooting around in that big old clothespress. Found the chair in one of the guest suites. Always liked those chairs. Clever idea."

"Very clever. Shall we go back down?"

"This room is really very fine,” he continued. It was the best furnished room in the house. “Pretty good window hangings, and a new curtain to the bed lately, I think. I like the golden satin cord draws on the window curtains. A touch of class, you know, that twisted satin."

"It's very elegant. You must be quite comfortable here. It is a pity the rest of the house is in such decay."

"As to that, a couple of thousand would put it into shape. Your grandpa—does he live in a good style in Devonshire?"

"The house is fine, but grandpa is a bit of a skint with his money. He saves a great deal,” she replied.

Such tidings were music to Jonathon's heart. The girl must be worth a bundle. “And you've lived with him like a daughter, as you might say?"

"Yes, I am considered a daughter, since he has none of his own. Grandpa and I are very close."

"The devil, you say.” Every phrase she uttered raised her to a higher pinnacle of eligibility. “He will make some provision for you before he goes, no doubt."

"Yes, some provision will be made for me,” she agreed, and thought it none of the captain's business that the likeliest provision was for her to remain on with his son and his wife, as a teacher to their children.

He said no more as he piloted her back to the Crimson Saloon, but he kept a firm hold on her elbow all the way down the stairs, as if afraid she might slip through his fingers. Still Sir Hillary had not returned.

"Wouldn't surprise me too much if the pair of them had slipped off to tie the knot,” Jonathon said. Money and marriage were at the top of his own mind, and Gab might have thought a single diamond worth marrying.

Claudia stared at him in horrified fascination. “Do you mean they might be getting married?” she asked.

"Why not? She's a devilish hurly-burly girl, been hot for Gab ever since she landed in here, and does just as she pleases with him, too. Wouldn't surprise me in the least."

"Mama, do you think it possible?” Claudia asked.

"Certainly not. We are all in mourning, and besides, Luane is a minor. They would require a special license."

A commotion at the door diverted their attention. Claudia dashed to the hall to see the pair of miscreants, looking like two puppies caught with their paws in the bacon bowl, being led in by a scowling Sir Hillary.

"Thank God, you're back!” Claudia shouted, running to her cousin and throwing her arms around her. “We were so worried about you! Jonathon thought you were run off to be married. What on earth happened to keep you so late?"

Luane looked sheepishly at her guardian, and said, “Nothing,” in a small voice.

"Well they might be ashamed to own up to their conduct,” Hillary said. “We shan't regale the whole company with the tale, but I shall tell you before the others join us, Claudia, and you decide how much of it is fit for the others ears. They drove to Maldon and sold Aunt Sophie's stuff..."

"Oh, and I got fifteen pounds, Cousin!” Loo inserted, rallying from her shame, “for they took the whole lot, the old black gowns and all, that I planned to give away. Only fancy that. And you should have sent your old cracked vase with me, for I daresay I could have got a guinea for it. I swear the fellow was a Johnny Trot, wasn't he, Gab?"

"He hardly looked at the old clothes,” Gab reminded her. “It was the silver-chased traveling case and that little opal pendant on a golden chain that he gave you the money for. I didn't know you meant to sell it. It was worth more than he gave you, I think."

"You sold Aunt Sophie's opal pendant for fifteen pounds?” Hillary asked, his anger mounting.

"It was only a trinket,” Luane defended herself. “It cannot have been valuable, or she would have had a replica made."

"It was worth a lot more than fifteen pounds! A beautiful thing,” Hillary said aside to Claudia.

"Poo, it was a dark old thing,” Loo asserted.

"Yes, a
black
opal is likely to be dark. So that explains the wonderful bargain you drove with the Johnny Trot at the shop. What else did you give him?"

"The rest of it was just junk,” Gabriel answered. “I made her keep Aunt Sophie's hunter watch, Uncle,” he offered as a palliative, and he handed the watch to his guardian.

"I'll put it away, before she exchanges it for a cream bun,” he replied, sticking it into his pocket.

"But this transaction cannot have taken you so long,” Claudia said. “What has kept you till this hour?” It was nearly ten by this time.

"What must the gudgeon do but go spending her untold wealth the minute she got her hands on it,” Sir Hillary resumed his tale.

"What did you buy?” Claudia asked, with more interest than censure.

"All sorts of things, but Sir Hillary is keeping them for a punishment.” She tossed her head at her guardian to accompany this speech.

"A green straw bonnet with coquelicot ribbons is the
pièce de résistance,"
he informed Claudia. “Quite appropriate for a Christmas comedy at Covent Gardens. The rest is of a similar inappropriateness for a young girl in mourning. And how you came to permit that piece of folly, Gabriel, passes my comprehension."

"She hadn't meant to wear it right away, uncle,” he explained.

"Not now or ever, if she wishes to continue under my protection."

Claudia gave her cousin a silent, sympathetic look.

"To get on with their spree,” Hillary continued, “it was already coming on dark when the shops closed and the money was gone..."

"I still have ten whole pounds left!” Luane charged righteously.

"Then they thought it
might
be a good idea to head for home, which they did,” Hillary said with a warning look at Luane.

"That is not so very bad, Sir Hillary,” Claudia began soothing him in a conciliating manner.

"Oh yes,
that
appears to be the one sensible notion that occurred to either of them during the entire day. They did not quite complete their journey, however. What must they do but come nine-tenths of the way home, then stop at Billericay, where they are known to everyone, and hire a private parlor for a midnight dinner."

"I expect they must have been very hungry by that time,” Claudia said.

"I expect they might have contained themselves during the two more miles and eaten at home. I can imagine what is being said around the village, the two of them hiring a private parlor, and with Aunt Sophie not yet cold in her grave. Using
my
carriage into the bargain, as though I had given such behavior my sanction. Well, you had better marry the wench after this piece of imprudence, Gabriel, for you have certainly ruined her reputation."

"We left the dining room door wide open,” Gabriel countered.

"It was closed when I entered the inn."

"We only closed it because we recognized your curricle drive up,” Luane told him. “Before that it was open the whole time."

"With half the village gazing in amusement at that frightful red and green hat that is more suited to an actress or lightskirt than a young girl in mourning. I don't know what you were about to allow her to act so, Gabriel."

"She didn't put the hat on till after we were in the private parlor. Just trying it on, you know,” Gabriel explained.

"I wonder she didn't pull off her gown and change that too, in sight of all her admirers."

"No, I only changed my hat and gloves and reticule,” Luane said. “Oh, the sweetest little beaded reticule, Claudia. You will love it. I would have got one for you too, only I bought the blue for myself, and the red was a trifle garish."

Claudia smiled her thanks for this nonexistent present and turned to Sir Hillary, who was shaking his head in helplessness at his charges. “The horses are all right, are they?” she asked, as that had seemed to be his chief concern when he went after them.

"Yes, they failed to put them in the ditch somehow. I have left the carriage standing outside and must go. You tell the others what you think sounds not too bad, Claudia."

"Mayn't I have my parcels before you go?” Luane asked.

"Certainly not! I have no wish to look across the aisle at church Sunday and see that red and green bonnet. And you, Gabriel, will go back to Cambridge tomorrow."

"What about
me?"
Luane asked.

"Well, what about you?” Thoreau demanded.

"My reputation is ruined. You said Gabriel must marry me."

"You must both show some signs of maturity before that time."

"Tomorrow is Saturday, uncle,” Gabriel pointed out.

"I am well aware of it. In that manner you won't have to travel on a Sunday and will be back in time for classes on Monday. You hadn't planned to hang on to her skirts for a month, had you? We'll get rid of you before you cause us any further embarrassment. And you'd better show me a good report at the term's end, or I'll hire you a tutor and you'll spend your summer with your nose in a book."

"May I leave after lunch, and come and say good-by to Loo in the morning?” he asked.

"You'll leave early,” Sir Hillary answered, unmoved.

"It only takes five hours to get there. We can easily be there before dark if we leave around one."

"We
are not going, pup.
You
are going post."

"Oh,” was all Gabriel replied to this, with a hang-dog look at Luane.

"What time does the post leave?” Claudia, hoping for a reprieve.

"Around eleven, I think,” Gabriel told her.

"Surely, Sir Hillary, you will allow him to come to say good-by to Luane. You cannot be so cruel as to forbid that,” Claudia coaxed.

He felt much inclined to forbid it, but when Claudia said, “Please,” in a pleading tone, he changed his mind. “Very well. Come on, Cawker. Time you were in bed.” He grabbed Gabriel's sleeve and turned him towards the door.

Gabriel smiled at Luane in an apologetic way, but she was scowling at Sir Hillary and didn't see him.

"Good-night, Claudia,” Thoreau said, ignoring Luane completely. “Don't waste too much sympathy on this pair of whelps. You will be changing your mind about wanting to be Loo's abigail. I'll come with Gabriel tomorrow and help you prevent their falling into some new scrape."

"Good-night, Sir Hillary,” she replied. She was not happy with his high-handedness and refused to honor him with a smile.

"Are
you
angry with me too?” he asked.

"You are a little hard on them."

"Pudding heart!” he laughed at her. “Some abigail you'd make to the hussy. She'd bear-lead you as she does this cawker. Don't let her convince you I am quite the monster she will make me out. I'm not, you know."