Diamonds and Dreams (3 page)

Goldie nodded, set Runt back on the ground,
and dried the last of her tears on her apron. “From what I
understand, Big, these villagers miss havin’ their duke. Aunt Delia
wrote that there’s been a Ravenhurst duke livin’ up there in that
duke mansion for some five hundred years. Now the only one up there
is that Dane Hutchins. That estate manager fella. He’s not the
duke, so—”

“Well, judging by the way he struts around
here, you’d think he was the damn Duke Ravenhurst himself,” Big
commented. “You should have seen him yelling at some of the farmers
the other day, Goldie. He had them scared to death of him, and he
thought their terror was funny! And I have to tell you, Goldie, I
don’t like the way he watches you.”

She waved away his words. “Oh, Big, he
stares at everybody. Maybe that’s what an estate manager is
supposed to do. We’ve never seen one, so we really don’t know how
they act. But the fact remains that there’s no duke up in that
mansion. It kinda breaks up the tradition, I reckon, and Mildred
Fickle said that traditions are sorta like the Ten Commandments to
the English.”

She stared at the huge, rambling manor house
again, remembering snatches of what she’d read in Delia’s diaries.
“Everybody doted on the duke when he was little. See that tree
house in that tree over yonder? It was his. The village men built
it for him. I’m gonna climb into it one of these days. Anyway, Big,
I guess havin’ the duke back would mean the world to these
folks.”

“But Goldie, you don’t know the man! How can
you—”

“I told you I’m gonna find someone who looks
like him, and make him into a duke.”

Big tried to subdue his rising vexation and
worry. “Goldie,” he said, his voice deceptively calm, “this is
never going to work.”

She lifted her face to the sky and closed
her eyes for a moment. The sunshine heated her cheeks and her
determination. “I gotta try though, Big. It’s like that expression,
‘I’m damned if I do, and I’m damned if I don’t.’ If I don’t
try
, Uncle Asa’s gonna get us run out of Hallensham. And if
I
do
try and get caught, we’re still gonna get run out. So
why not try? Y’know I’ve been movin’ around with Uncle Asa ever
since Mama and Daddy died. Big, I’m just plain weary of it. I want
to
belong
someplace. This is such a purty little village,
and I
am
part English, so it’s right for me to be here. And
Big, if I
do
get away with my plan and convince the
villagers that the duke is our friend, we won’t ever get sent away.
We’ll have found a place where we can fit in and be happy for the
rest of our days.”

Big almost choked on the compassion he felt
for her.
A place where we can fit in.
He wondered if that
would ever happen for her. “Goldie,” he whispered, “I—”

He broke off at the sound of hoofbeats.
Looking up, he saw Dane Hutchins cantering toward them upon a fine
horse. “My, but we’re having some grand company this morning,
aren’t we?” he asked sarcastically. “Here comes God.”

“Miss Mae,” Dane greeted her as he reined in
his horse.

Big stared up at the overweight man. “What
the hell do you want, Hutchins?”

Dane kept his gaze on Goldie. “Inform your
uncle I am here.”

“You got an appointment?” she asked,
shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun as she peered up at
him. “I heard English folks
always
make appointments before
comin’ to visit. Y’see, I had this friend named Mildred Fickle.
Mildred knew everything about—”

“Cease!” Dane thundered.

“Now wait just a damn blasted minute!” Big
responded. “Don’t you talk to Goldie that way! You—”

“We don’t say
cease
in America,”
Goldie decided to tell Dane. “Well, maybe some folks do, but most
of us just say
shut up
. ‘Course, even if you told me to shut
up, I wouldn’t. I’d shut up if I knew I was bein’ ugly to you, but
I haven’t said anything to have to shut up over, so—”

“Where is your uncle?” Dane asked, his tone
suddenly much less strident. He reached up to his snowy neckcloth,
touching the glittering stickpin there, then smiled at Goldie.

Big scowled. The man was strange—angry one
second, and sweetness itself the next. Very odd. “Asa is sleeping,
if it’s any of your business. Now what do you want?”

Dane ignored Big altogether. “Your uncle’s
behavior in the pub last night has come to my attention, my sweet.
There are people here who are not inclined to accept the three of
you among them.”

“You’re not real popular around here
either,” Goldie dared to inform him. “And I’m not your sweet
anything.”

At the slight stir of the breeze, Dane
hurried to smooth his hair. “Is my hair mussed?” he asked
worriedly.

Big and Goldie frowned at each other,
neither of them answering, then looked back up at Dane.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” he
asked. “Is there something wrong with me?” He brushed at his coat
sleeves and gave his hair another pat. “Do you have any idea
who
I am?”

“Do you have any idea how little we care?”
Big countered, his question making Goldie giggle.

“I have the power to make you care very
much,” Dane answered coolly, fondling his stickpin again.

“Look, Mr. Hutchins, we know you’re the
estate boss,” Goldie said. “You live in the duke house, dress in
fancy clothes, ride that fine horse...but you’re
not
the
duke, y’know, and we don’t have to treat you like you are.”

“Do not ever say that to me again.”

Goldie stared at the fat, middle-aged man.
She decided he had mean eyes and a cruel mouth. His extreme
calmness made her feel slightly nervous.

“It has come to my attention,” Dane said,
licking his bottom lip, “that you are going to attempt to bring
back Lord Tremayne. Is there any truth to this, my sweet?”

“She’s not your sweet!” Big exploded. “And
you—”

“Answer me,” Dane commanded Goldie.

“Yeah, I’m bringin’ him back.”

Another gust of wind swept through the yard,
causing Dane to glower. “I must return to the house. I don’t like
wind. I don’t like dust either.”

“Why do you live in the duke’s house?” Big
asked.

Dane turned and looked at the mansion in the
distance. “I wish the roses would bloom.”

Goldie cocked her head to her shoulder.
“You’ll have to get out of that house when I bring back the duke.
He won’t let you stay in it.”

Dane looked back down at her. “When do you
leave for London?”

Goldie stared at his smile again. It made
her feel as though ants were crawling on her. “In about two
weeks.”

Dane smoothed his hair once more. “Indeed,”
he drawled. “Then we shall wait and see what happens, shan’t we?
Good day.” He pulled on the reins and sent his horse galloping down
the dirt road.

“Great day Miss Agnes,” Goldie murmured,
fanning dust away from her face. “That’s the strangest man I
believe I’ve ever met.”

Big looked at her and smoothed an unruly
flaxen curl back from her face. “Goldie, forget about His Highness
Hutchins. Tell me the plan from beginning to end with no more
interruptions.”

She heard the quiet resignation in his
voice, and decided to take full advantage of it. “I was up almost
all night thinkin’ it over,” she assured him excitedly. “It’s purty
obvious that this Lord Duke Tremayne Ravenhurst fella’s never gonna
come back here. And I can understand his reasons. His daddy, mama,
and sweetheart all died here, Big. The place would only remind him
of those tragedies. That and the fact that he hasn’t been here in
twenty years...why would he up and come back now? So what I’ll do
is have
my
duke come for just a few hours or so. He’ll talk
to the villagers, and then explain that he has to get back to
London. It won’t be
my
fault that he can’t stay. I’ll have
done exactly what folks want Uncle Asa and me to do by gettin’ him
here.”

With a sigh, Big sat back down, leaning
against the stone wall of the cottage. “But Goldie, you don’t know
what the man looks like. I realize these people haven’t seen this
Ravenhurst duke in years, but they’ll expect to see some kind of
resemblance between
your
duke and the real duke’s
parents.”

She tossed her bright hair off her
shoulders, rose, and ambled around the small yard, kicking pebbles,
picking leaves, and taking deep breaths of the fresh air. “Late
last night, I sneaked into that big ole mansion up there,” she
admitted, staring at the wonderful castle-like estate again. “I
crawled right through the window, and—”

“Good Lord, what if that Hutchins bastard
had caught you?”

She bent to examine a rotten log. “He wasn’t
there. I saw him leave with my own eyes. Dora was gone, too. Did
y’know she’s all the time up there? Maybe she’s his servant.
Besides, Big, I didn’t go in to steal or anything like that. I just
went to see if there were any family paintin’s linin’ the walls.
Rich people do that, y’know. Mildred Fickle said so. Big, in one
closed-up room there were dozens of paintin’s. Dane must’ve taken
’em down and stashed ’em in there. All the portraits had little
brass plaques under ’em that told who the paintin’s were of. The
duke’s mama and daddy were there, and so was he. His name is Marion
Tremayne. His middle initials are W. S., but I don’t know what they
stand for.”

She strolled back to where Big sat. “You
ever heard of a man bein’ named Marion, Big? Wonder what his mama
was thinkin’ when she named him that? I reckon maybe she wanted a
daughter so bad, she gave her son a girl name. Poor Duke Marion.
Poor, poor Duke Marion.”

“Goldie, Marion is a boy’s name too.”

She stuck a leaf stem in her mouth and
chewed on it, grimacing at its bitter flavor. “Sounds like a girl’s
name to me. Anyhow, little Marion was only about three years old
when his paintin’ was done, but after starin’ at his parents’
paintin’s along with his, I think I’ve figured out what he looks
like now. He’s gotta be over six feet tall because both his mama
and his daddy looked tall. His hair is black and wavy, he’s got a
strong jaw, high cheekbones, and a long straight nose. I couldn’t
tell too much about his mouth because it was sorta pinched up.
Looked like he was antsy about havin’ to stand there and get
painted. And I wasn’t sure about the color of his eyes either
because he was wearin’ a hat that shaded ’em. His mama had blue
eyes, his daddy brown ones, so I was gonna take my chances and do
eenie meenie miney mo.”

She smiled at the look of dismay in Big’s
eyes and turned to walk back out into the yard again, her hands
clasped behind her back. When she’d traveled a few yards, she spun
around quickly. “But lo and behold, Big, Aunt Della’s diaries say
the duke’s eyes are green! They’re probably a throwback or
somethin’ to one of his kin. That or his mama was messin’ around
with some green-eyed milkman. Mildred Fickle says rich people
always
have lovers. That must be another one of those
English customs. And I think Duke Marion’s real strong too, Big,
because his daddy was all muscle if that paintin’ was tellin’ the
truth. Muscles
are
inherited, aren’t they?”

Big stared into her tawny eyes and shook his
head in exasperation. “And what are you going to do about fancy
clothes, a carriage, and horses? You can’t dress your duke in
tattered clothing, and you can’t have him saunter into the village
with dust all over his boots. He has to dress—”

“I’m gonna borrow some clothes that are
already up there in his duke house. I found some in a closet in one
of those upstairs bedrooms. It was a real dusty bedroom, so I’m
sure the clothes have been there a long time, and they don’t belong
to Mr. Hutchins.”

“If they’ve been there that long, they’ll be
outdated,” Big pointed out.

She stared at him for a long time. “Why do
you have to make so many problems, Big?”

“
Me?”
he asked in utter
disbelief.

She continued to stare at him, her mind at
work on the point he’d brought up. “Hell, Big, beautiful clothes
never get outdated,” she decided out loud. “They stay in fashion
forever. Everybody knows that. And great day Miss Agnes, you’ve
never seen the kind of clothes up there in that house! I was so
excited I almost set ’em on fire when I dropped my candle! Satins
and silks, and some even had gold buttons! Fancier’n anything I
ever saw Amos Hicks back in Shakin’ Pines, Georgia, wear. He—”

“Goldie, you are off of the subject again. I
asked you not to interrupt yourself anymore.”

“Oh, all right, ill-box.”

“And don’t call me that. I’m not crabby,
only impatient.”

She walked back to him, dragging the toes of
her shoes in the dirt behind her. When she reached him, she looked
over her shoulder at the lines her dragging feet had made. “As far
as gettin’ a carriage and horses for the duke...I’m not that far in
my plans yet.”

“What?” Big asked, pretending astonishment.
“You mean there are actually some
holes
in this grand scheme
of yours?”

“Not many, and I’ll fill ’em in later.”

Big fashioned a steeple with his fingers and
laid his chin upon it. “Hole number two, Goldie: how are you going
to get this poor common man you find to
agree
to these wild
plans?”

She patted his shiny bald head. “I’ve got
about five pounds of money. Uncle Asa bought some stuff the other
day, and he told me that people here pay for things in
pounds
. I reckon they have to weigh the money before they
can pay for stuff with it. I don’t know how in the world these
English folks manage to carry more than, say...ten or twelve pounds
around with ’em. Wonder what they do when somethin’ costs over a
hundred pounds? Y’know, Big, now that I think of it, that might be
why the duke’s daddy had so many muscles. A person would
have
to be strong to tote around so many pounds of money.
Anyway, I have a whole pile of silver coins that I figure weighs
about five pounds, and I’ll offer my duke three pounds of ’em for
doin’ the job. I’ve been savin’ all these years, and Uncle Asa
doesn’t know. Don’t tell him.”