Straw in the Wind (24 page)

‘My sister, Marianne Thornton,' she said out loud. But what of the other one, Charlotte Hardy? Would she prove difficult to know?

The temperature dropped suddenly and the storm hit them without warning, a squall of hailstones flung with some force by a gust of wind.

Serafina checked that all the doors and windows were secure, then went upstairs. Lightning zig-zagged out of the sky and snicked about the boiling clouds. She stood on the stairs landing and allowed the fury of it to explode around her. Outside, the limbs of the trees thrashed and cracked and the sky was flooded with great flashes of light. It was a magnificent sight – strength against fury.

There was a cracking noise upstairs. Serafina went up the rest of the stairs at a run. The door to Diana Milson's room stood open. She could smell the stale dust from the top of the stairs and her nose wrinkled. It offended her.

The room itself seemed the same, only different . . . the difference was something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Finch Leighton stood at the window. He wore no jacket, just a waistcoat over his shirt. ‘Serafina?' he said without turning round.

She smiled at this uncanny ability of his to sniff people out. ‘Is your headache better?'

‘It's gone, thanks to you.'

‘I heard something crack.'

‘Yes, so did I. Tiles have fallen off the roof, I expect. I'll have someone investigate it when the storm has passed.'

‘It's cold. I'll get your jacket for you.'

‘No, leave it be. Oscar ate too much at the farm and has fallen asleep in the chair. Besides, I like to feel heat and cold against my skin and imagine what's causing it.'

‘You don't need much imagination for this storm; it's so full of rage that the thought of the elements losing control so completely is awe-inspiring.'

‘So, you think the elements are governed by reason?'

She smiled. He was in the mood for one of their discussions. ‘I know nothing about science, but I imagine it's like getting in a temper. You can take so much tension and if it's not expressed it builds up until there's no room to contain it all, then it just bursts out of you.'

‘Then again, the same thing can happen with joy, or love, only the end result is different, and can be just as spectacular.'

‘Are you saying that love and hate are the same emotion?'

The next flash of lightning showed a smile on his face. ‘I wish such emotions could be explained that easily. It's the anniversary of Diana's death today.'

She didn't know quite what to say except, ‘Would you like me to leave?'

‘Tell me about this room that I've turned into a shrine, Serafina, and don't spare my feelings. I know you'll be honest.'

She gave a small huff of laughter. ‘Are you sure you want me to be honest?'

‘I'm positive.'

‘This room is not a shrine. To my mind it's a tomb you visit when you know you're beginning to forget your late wife and feel guilty about it. You need this room to use as a stick to flog yourself with.'

‘Like a penitent? That's too harsh a judgement. You have no idea how I feel.'

‘Perhaps, but I think Celia deserves better than being expected to take second place to a memory.' Tears pricked her eyes and she said quietly, ‘You told me once that you liked the poetry of Edgar Allan Poe. Do you know the poem called
The Dream
?'

‘In visions of the dark night I have dreamed of joy departed, but a waking dream of life and light hath left me broken-hearted . . .'

She took up the next verse.
‘Ah, what is not a dream by day, to him whose eyes are cast on things around him, with a ray turned back upon the past.'

After a short silence he said, ‘Come here, my dear, and forgive me if this seems too familiar.'

When she joined him he reached out, and, locating her face he very gently ran his fingers over it, tracking through her tears and following the contours of it. When he'd finished, his hands fell to his side. ‘How does someone as young as you possess so much wisdom? You cry for me, yet you want me to abandon the last sight that my eyes remember seeing, and embrace . . .? How do the last lines of that poem read?'

‘You know how they read.
What could there be more purely bright in truth's day star?
'

‘And Celia is my
truth's day star
, even though she resides in my darkness. You're right, Serafina. When the storm has abated we shall rid the house of Diana's ghost, and you can scrub her away so she can no longer mock me. Everything must go. Her bed and bedding, her clothes and her portrait, chairs, and ornaments. I shall give her jewellery to Jane . . . she has long coveted it.'

There was a whiff of sulphur in the air. A vicious slash of lightning speared to earth and was followed by a crash and flying sparks. Everything rattled. It brought a small scream of fright from Serafina.

Finch jumped, then he sniffed. ‘I can smell burning, and wonder if this is a message from beyond the grave. Are we both being roasted on the devil's spit?'

‘He can go and stick his fork in someone else or he'll get a kick in the seat of his britches,' Serafina said shakily. ‘As for the lightning strike it's merely coincidence. We agreed that we don't believe the elements are governed by reason . . . remember.'

‘I'll allow myself to be governed by the fact that the storm is a random act rather than Diana's ghost displaying its displeasure, then.'

It was revealing that he unconsciously referred to the devil rather than connecting his former wife with heaven.

A prolonged rumble of thunder set off a harmonious hum around them as she gazed out of the window, and there was a muted jangle of noise, of metal jiggled in the drawers, wood rubbing against wood and the crystal in the lampshades offering up a melodious tinkling tune. Her palm pressed against the window glass absorbing the vibrations as she looked outside.

The ground was covered in a thick mush of ice, except for around the oak tree.

‘I think the oak tree was struck. The tree seems to be intact, but the trunk is scorched and there's smoke coming from it. There's steam rising from the ground, too. The heat must have melted the hailstones.' Her glance went beyond the tree. ‘The seat has been thrown across the garden and it resembles firewood.'

Oscar came in, carrying Finch's jacket. ‘Ah, there you are, sir. You'd better put this on since it's become quite cold. The oak tree has been struck by lightning.'

‘Thank you, Oscar. After the storm has passed over would you help Joseph and Thomas check for any damage. I think we've lost a few tiles . . . check the attics for leaks and we'll put containers to catch the water.'

‘Yes, sir.'

‘And Oscar, we're going to clear out this room and remove my late wife's portrait from the drawing room downstairs, since I want the future Mrs Leighton to feel welcome in her new home and secure in her role as mistress here. I'd be obliged if you'd give the ladies a hand. I'll want it done before Serafina is claimed by Mr Chapman and goes off to discover herself.'

It was an odd way of putting it, but true on both counts, Serafina thought. She
was
hoping Adam would claim her and that she would discover herself. For a moment she allowed herself to imagine the moment when she met the man Adam thought was her father, and a little chill went through her. If only she was as self-contained as people seemed to think she was.

What if this sea captain didn't like her and he denounced her as an imposter? If he did there would be no sisters and she'd be sent away and forgotten about. No, not forgotten, because the abandoned infant had always been a skeleton in their family closet. Adam would then look for another young woman to fit into the family mould – and that might be her friend, who was dead and buried as Mary Fenn. Did her childhood memories really belong to her, or did they come through Mary during the childhood games they played, when being a mysterious orphan had seemed so romantic?

Would Mr Leighton allow her to come back here? And what about Adam . . . he might decide she was not worth knowing after all? How could she stay here when Adam was bound to visit his sister often . . . and with each visit her heart would break into a thousand pieces?

Panic hit her again and her heart began to pound.

What her eyes had seen and ignored before, suddenly came to the forefront. Diana Milson's diamond ring was missing from the table and the bracelet and pendant were gone.

‘Mrs Leighton's jewellery?'

‘What about it, Serafina?'

‘The jewellery . . . have you moved it, sir? The ring, bracelet and ruby pendant have gone.'

He reached out to explore the empty spaces, his touch so delicate that he didn't even disturb the dust. ‘I haven't moved anything . . . when did you last see it?'

‘The last time I was in here . . . when you told me not to come in here again.'

‘And you haven't been in here since?'

‘No, sir.'

‘Are you sure? Oscar found the key to this room in my bedside table. I was going to ask you about it; I thought you must have been in here, even though I told you not to.'

‘No, and it isn't my key. I keep that in that little treasure box you gave me.'

He shook his head. ‘Are you sure?'

‘Of course, I'm sure . . . it was there an hour ago when I read the letter inside it – one that Mr Chapman brought me from Marianne Thornton. Shall I fetch it?'

‘No . . . Oscar will.'

It pained Serafina that he didn't trust her to fetch it herself and although she could understand it, a lump filled her throat. She tried to keep the hurt from her voice when she said, ‘It's amongst my books on the shelf, Oscar.'

He was back a few seconds later with the box. Serafina opened it. ‘Here's the key to the room, here's the note, and there's the purse you gave me with the money in . . . my wages from Reverend Pawley.'

Serafina looked on, bewildered when Oscar opened the embroidered purse, and said, ‘The purse contains two of Mrs Milson's handkerchiefs, with her initials embroidered on them, and there's something hard inside them.'

He shook the handkerchief open and the ring tumbled back on to the table, nearly settling into the same spot from where it had been taken. A flash of lightning found its core and sent a myriad of cold gleams twisting from its heart as it rocked back and forth.

If it had a heart, Serafina thought morosely. She'd read somewhere that the diamond was the hardest natural substance known to man. Serafina's own heart plunged suddenly, as though a void had opened up underneath her. Her hand sought out the bedpost for support and she whispered, ‘You think I stole it, don't you?'

Finch Leighton gave a tired sigh. ‘I don't know what to think at the moment.'

Serafina couldn't think of anything convincing to say, except, ‘I didn't put the ring there, and I'd like to point out that my money has gone. Only three of us knew that the money was in there.'

‘Is the tortoiseshell jewellery box still there?'

‘Yes, sir . . . and so are the pearls.' She shrugged. ‘I've never looked inside the box, so I don't know what's in there.'

‘There's an inventory in my late wife's desk drawer,' Finch said, and he opened the drawer and took out a satchel with papers in. He handed it to Oscar. ‘Damn and blast it to hell, Oscar! Nothing like this has happened before. I shall have to ask the constabulary to investigate.'

Oscar suggested limply, ‘Perhaps it was a jackdaw.'

There was a flare of hope in Serafina, then it fled and she said miserably, ‘I doubt if a jackdaw would have wrapped the ring in a handkerchief, flown into my sitting room and placed it inside a purse in the secret box. Besides, how would it have got in, when the window here has been closed tight all this time?'

‘She's right. It was taken from this room and placed there. But where is the rest of the jewellery?'

There was a moment of charged silence, then Finch said, ‘As soon as the storm dies down you'd best go and fetch the constables, Oscar. They will want to take statements from the staff and search some of the rooms. They will soon get to the bottom of it, no doubt. In the meantime you'd better go and find something to do, Miss Finn. Oscar and I will go through the inventory and make a list of anything else that might be missing.'

‘I didn't take that ring . . . I promise . . . I wouldn't do anything like that.'

‘I haven't accused you, but you must agree that someone did, and that the affair does have to be investigated. In the meantime get on with your work. Hand Oscar the key to this room if you would, then leave us.'

The joy seemed to drain from Serafina as she left.

The house was plunged into an atmosphere of gloom when it was discovered that there was more of the jewellery missing; several rings, a gold snake bracelet with a ruby eye that went with the pendant, and several brooches and earrings.

They were all interviewed, including Giles, Jassy and Oscar, and the newcomer, Thomas. A search was made of their belongings. Nothing turned up.

Serafina was singled out for special attention, and the constables didn't seem that interested in the fact that her money had been stolen too, until Mr Leighton suggested, ‘It's possible that the ring slid off the thief's finger after he'd stolen the money, when he was padding the purse with the handkerchiefs.'

Finch Leighton spent an hour or so shut away with the constables, while Serafina gnawed on her nails. She had a feeling that she was about to be arrested and charged.

Instead, she was called in, and a stern-faced constable said, ‘I believe we have enough evidence to charge you with the theft of the jewellery, Miss Finn. However, Mr Leighton has decided not to press charges at this time. We will still be pursuing evidence, so if you have anything to tell us I suggest you do so now, and save us a lot of work.'