That Infamous Pearl (26 page)

Rowena paced up and
down the library, eying Alaric nervously. He looked up from the book he was
reading and watched her as she moved back and forth across the room, realizing
that it had been an incredible relief to him to finally discuss the anger that
lay between them, and to find that he might not be estranged from her forever.
The wound that had been opened by her lies was partially healed now, and he
felt a glimmer of hope that all would be well. But he needed to tread
carefully. If this was yet another trap, it could prove fatal for him.

"There is no
need for this anxiety, Rowena. I gave you my word to listen to Malcolm, and I
will do so."

Rowena sighed. "I
am sure you will, Alaric. But how do I know he will listen to you? And what if
you do not believe him? I could not stand to see the two of you quarrel again.
This is all the world to me."

Alaric closed the
book and stood up, walking over to her and taking her hands in his. Rowena
closed her eyes, savoring his closeness. She could remember few times that
Alaric had offered her a spontaneous caress unconnected to lovemaking.

"I am already
half-convinced that you are right," he said soothingly. "You were
very eloquent on your brother's behalf. And I should not take Marguerite's word
over yours or anyone else's. Even a flighty fellow like Malcolm may be more
reliable than she is."

"Malcolm is not
flighty," protested Rowena. "He is rash, and heedless perhaps, but he
means well."

"I will not
comment on the materials the road to hell is constructed with," murmured
Alaric, squeezing her hands gently. "Your brother and I have a difficult
past behind us, but I believe I can set it aside for your sake, and for the
sake of solving this troublesome mystery. All that is necessary is that he be
willing to do the same thing."

"I am sure he
will be," said Rowena, though even to her own ears her voice sounded
uncertain. Malcolm, she had learned, was inclined to be headstrong.

Ferguson opened the
door and paused when he saw his master and mistress standing so close together.
With a gentle smile Alaric set her aside, and Ferguson bowed.

"A gentleman is
here to see you, my lord. He says his name is Bates." Ferguson managed to
convey the distinct impression that he did not believe this for a moment.

Alaric suppressed a
smile. "Send him in, Ferguson. We are expecting him."

Ferguson bowed again
and exited, and a few moments later Malcolm appeared in the doorway. He wore
the same brown wig that he had been sporting in Green Park, and Rowena had to
stifle a giggle at his appearance, for it had slipped slightly and his own
blonde hair could be seen underneath it.

"Come in,
Malcolm," she said hastily, coming forward and taking his hand. He smiled
and gave her a brief hug, and then turned towards Alaric with a challenging
look.

"Good morning,
Brayleigh," he said.

Alaric stepped
forward and extended his hand. "God morning, Arlingby. Or should I say
Wroxton? You are the new Earl."

A certain tension
seemed to go out of Malcolm. "Since my father's unfortunate death last
year," he answered. "That is one of the reasons I returned to
England."

"That and the
news that your sister had married the devil, I gather," said Alaric.

Malcolm stiffened. "I
was concerned, naturally. I had no reason to think that you meant anything but
harm to members of my family."

Alaric raised an
eyebrow. "You always were rash, Wroxton. Did you really think I had been
plotting for twelve years to increase your misery by marrying your sister?"

"I think you
were ripe for any sort of mischief that might hurt me or my family."
Malcolm's voice rose as he spoke.

"You delude
yourself. I have had a great many things to think of in the past twelve years besides
you and the Arlingbys. Vengeance has not been a consuming passion of
mine--though it would seem to have dominated your life. What a pity."
Alaric sneered slightly.

"Damn you,
Brayleigh. I came here because Rowena assured me that you would be reasonable.
I see that you have fooled us both once again. No doubt the magistrates will be
coming to arrest me at any moment. I knew I should not have trusted you."
Malcolm's hands clenched into fists and he took a threatening step towards
Alaric.

"Stop it this
instant!" Rowena's voice cut through the ominous atmosphere of the room
like a knife. "I have no idea what the two of you think you're doing, but
this is utterly ridiculous. Can't you spend two minutes together without
quarrelling?"

Alaric tore his eyes
from Malcolm's angry face and turned towards Rowena. Her face was flushed, and
her spine alarmingly straight. She looked as though she would quite happily
tear them both to shreds. The tightness around his mouth disappeared and he
smiled slightly.

"I apologize, my
dear. It seems that your brother brings out my worst instincts. I am afraid it
was always this way."

"You should
apologize to Malcolm, not to me. He is a guest in our home, and he deserves to
be courteously treated."

Alaric looked faintly
taken aback, but he turned to Malcolm and smiled slightly. "Rowena is
right. You deserve better. My apologies, Wroxton."

Rowena turned to her
brother, who looked startled and suspicious. "And you will apologize as
well, Malcolm. You came in here looking for a fight, and it is hardly
surprising that Alaric obliged you, under the circumstances."

"Dash it,
Rowena, how can you stand it? The man acts as though he's royalty, ordering
everyone about--"

"That's enough,
Malcolm. I asked you to apologize, and you will do so. Alaric is no longer the
same man you knew twelve years ago. The two of you need to forget this
ridiculous competition you have indulged in and begin to behave as the adults
you supposedly are."

Malcolm stared at his
sister. "Lord, Rowena, when did you become such a termagant? You were such
a quiet little girl. I'd say your husband needs to take you to task. You can't
talk to us like that."

Alaric grinned and
offered his hand to Malcolm again. "You see, Wroxton, I am quite
henpecked. Do you think I would have saddled myself with a shrew like that for
any reason except my own desires? I believe the two of us need to work
together, if only to prevent her from riding roughshod over us."

Malcolm took the
proffered hand and shook it, still giving Rowena a dubious look. "I
apologize, Brayleigh, for my hasty words. It was wrong of me to presume you
meant me harm."

"And I apologize
for my remarks. It is difficult for me to remember that we are supposed to be
friends now. I will try to do better in the future."

The men stopped and
looked at Rowena, who nodded approvingly. "That is much better. I believe
that we can progress from here."

"Please sit
down, Wroxton," said Alaric, indicating a high-backed chair and moving
towards a low table where a crystal decanter and tray of glasses awaited. "May
I offer you some brandy?"

"Thank you."
Malcolm took the glass and drained it in one gulp. "I never thought I'd be
in this house again. Do you remember the last time I was here?"

"Vividly. You
threatened my life, I believe, and I responded by telling you to go to the
devil." Alaric took a sip of his own brandy and settled into a chair
across from Malcolm.

"Which I did,
unfortunately. I've lost twelve years of my life, Brayleigh. You can hardly
blame me for being bitter."

"It is a pity
that you wasted your hatred on the wrong person. I did not kill Ingram."
Alaric raised his eyes and looked directly at Malcolm. "It is necessary
that you believe that before we go any further. I will not have you abusing
Rowena's trust in an attempt to pin his death on me."

Malcolm's eyes
narrowed. "I would never hurt Rowena in such a way. And how do I know that
you are not doing exactly what you suspect me of? I have no guarantee that you
did not marry Rowena in an attempt to lure me back here and turn me in."

Rowena sighed
audibly. "It seems the two of you will simply have to forget your past
suspicions. I have no trouble believing you both to be innocent. Why cannot you
each make the same assumption?"

Alaric surveyed her
over the top of his glass. "We lack the habit of trust, I believe. It is
one of your most charming qualities, my dear, but Malcolm and I have been put
through a great deal in the past, and we each believed the other to be at
fault. That is a difficult thing to dismiss."

"You will have to
trust one another," said Rowena flatly. "Or, you will have to trust
me when I tell you that each of you is innocent. Will that suit you?"

Alaric looked at her
consideringly. "Very well. I will take your word for it, Rowena. If you
say Malcolm is innocent, I will believe you, despite the evidence to the
contrary."

Malcolm gaped at him.
"You are taking Rowena's word for it? Brayleigh is accepting the judgment
of another?"

Alaric rose and
brought the brandy decanter over to his chair, and poured both himself and
Malcolm another glass. "You see, Rowena has wrought a remarkable change in
me," he murmured.

"I'll say she
has. Are you in love with her, Brayleigh?" Malcolm took another sip of the
brandy and fixed Alaric with an accusing eye.

Alaric blanched. "I
respect your sister greatly," he said softly. "Her opinion carries a
great deal of weight with me."

Malcolm laughed
shortly. "So you haven't changed completely. Still no heart, eh? Well, if
you can trust your wife, I can surely trust my sister. We are in agreement;
neither one of us killed Ingram. What do we do now? Any suggestions, Rowena?"

Rowena jumped. When
Malcolm had asked Alaric his startling question, her heart had begun to pound
in her chest, almost drowning out her husband's reply. She could expect nothing
more than his respect, she thought fiercely. After the turbulent past few weeks
she was lucky to have even that. And she could hardly expect him to admit to
Malcolm that he loved her. But she still felt a sense of emptiness at his
response.

"Suggestions?"
she stammered.

"Now that we are
agreed on our collective innocence, we need to proceed with discovering who is
the real killer," said Malcolm. "You have been thinking about this
far longer than either Brayleigh or myself. How do you suggest we go about
investigating this matter?"

"Yes, enlighten
us, Rowena," said Alaric teasingly. "You have been pestering me about
this since we met. How should we proceed?"

Rowena glowered at
him. "You know very well that I have no plan. It has taken all my wit and
energy to get the two of you in the same room without killing each other. I
have had no time at all to waste on the true culprit."

"It seems that
we will have to begin from the beginning," said Alaric. "If I did not
do it and Malcolm did not do it, then who did?"

"Someone who
wanted the Pearl of Sirsi?" suggested Rowena. "Surely there are other
collectors of antique objects who would have an interest in it."

"Perhaps.
Dennington is a collector, and Yarling has an extensive, though indiscriminate,
accumulation of jewels and precious stones."

"Yarling...I
hadn't considered him. I could see Yarling doing it," said Malcolm.

"Why?"
asked Rowena. "Is he particularly villainous?"

"He's got red
hair," explained Malcolm. "I've never liked red hair."

"Unfortunately,
that is not enough of a reason," observed Alaric. "And I seem to
recollect that Yarling was out of the country twelve years ago, visiting his
Irish estates. He could hardly have orchestrated this crime from there. No, I
think Yarling is not our culprit. And Dennington is far too old; even that long
ago he was confined to a bath chair. He wouldn't make a suitable suspect."

"What a pity. Is
there no one else?" asked Rowena.

"Not that I can
think of," said Alaric. "Most collectors are fairly straightforward
people. They offer to buy something, and if it is not forthcoming they retire
from the field. I am an exception, of course, but even I have never killed to
satisfy my desires."

"Then why would
someone else go to all this trouble?" demanded Malcolm.

"Possibly to get
rid of you, Malcolm," said Alaric. "You will notice that this little
plot worked very well to get you out of the way. Who would stand to profit from
your death?"

Malcolm shook his
head. "I can't think of anyone. I had my share of enemies, but you were
chief among them, Brayleigh, and we have agreed you are not to blame. I had
nothing much that anyone would envy me."

"You were heir
to an earldom," pointed out Alaric. "And now that your father has
died, someone besides you is the Earl of Wroxton."

Rowena's mouth fell
open. "Cousin Felix? Do you think cousin Felix could have done it?"

"It is a
possibility. He was the person with the most to gain from Malcolm's death or
disappearance."

"It can't be
Felix," objected Malcolm. "He's got to be fifty if he's a day, and he's
dead boring. It wouldn't occur to him to do anything so drastic. Besides, he
didn't need the money. He's a rich man in his own right. Inherited a pile from
old great-aunt Augusta."

"Perhaps he
wanted the title," argued Rowena. "And he would have been only
thirty-eight twelve years ago. Perhaps he craved the title, not the money.
Maybe," she said, warming to her argument, "Margaret wouldn't marry
him without a title, or at least the promise of one. He may have been driven to
such a crime in order to win his bride."

"They were
married fourteen years ago, before any of this happened," said Malcolm
bluntly. "I remember the wedding; Father made me go to it. Deuced dull
affair, and the champagne was terrible. Margaret couldn't have been happier
with Felix, title or no title; her family was just barely making ends meet
before she landed him. I'm sure he's been supporting the lot of them ever
since."

Rowena's face fell. "Well,
perhaps she began to work on him after the marriage. Perhaps her ambitions grew
grander as time passed."

Malcolm gave her a
pitying glance. "I don't see it, Rowena. Margaret has no more ambition
than a mouse. She wouldn't let Felix come to town after their marriage and
dresses only in gray and brown; not the sort of woman who wants to make a
splash in the world."

"It does seem to
be a weak theory," admitted Alaric. "Though it would have suited us
admirably. Does no one else dislike you, Malcolm?"

"Scores of
people," said Malcolm cheerfully. "But none of them would go to such
lengths to do away with me. Any of the men I knew would have challenged me to a
duel or had me shot by a footpad. Whoever did this went to a great deal of
trouble to concoct a complex plot. Looks like something a woman would do."

"What do you
mean by that?" demanded Rowena. "Are you implying that women are less
bold and more given to deceit than men?"

"Not at all, not
at all. Don't get yourself in a tizzy, Rowena," pleaded Malcolm. "Dash
it all, when did you get so touchy? I only meant that none of the men I knew
would have had that sort of finesse. Took a lot of planning, and a thorough
knowledge of what both Alaric and I were up to, after all."

"What women
disliked you?" asked Rowena curiously.

"None of 'em,"
said Malcolm smugly. "I was very popular with the ladies."

Alaric laughed. "Surely
you had hurt the feelings of one or two here or there," he said. "What
of Melinda Marlowe?"

Malcolm flushed and
glanced at Rowena. "That blew over quickly. And I can hardly see Melinda
Marlowe creeping about with a pistol in an orchard, damn it."

"No, you are
right," said Alaric. "I don't think she would have done it. What a
shame. All our leads are going nowhere."

"What did you do
to Melinda Marlowe?" asked Rowena curiously.

"Nothing,
nothing at all. That is entirely beside the point," said Malcolm hastily. "We
are discussing who may have wanted me dead."

"I think we
should consider another possibility," said Rowena slowly. "What if
the plot was aimed not at Malcolm, but rather at Alaric?"

"What are you
talking about?" asked Malcolm crossly. "It was I who was almost hung."

"Yes, I know
that," said Rowena. "But what if the person who planned this was
meaning to implicate Alaric, and you simply got in the way?"

"What do you
mean, Rowena?' asked Alaric, leaning forward in his chair.

"Perhaps it was
intended that you were to appear to have killed Ingram. After all, you were the
one who had made a great deal of fuss about this ridiculous pearl. It would
have seemed to someone with a grudge against you to be the perfect opportunity.
Perhaps it was intended to look as though you had shot Ingram, but Malcolm
arrived at the wrong moment. As the story was told to me, Malcolm decided to
drive out to Merton on the spur of the moment; how did the killer know to be
there and to shoot Ingram?"

Malcolm looked
surprised. "I hadn't thought of that. I rushed out of the house the minute
I heard you had offered Ingram such a large sum for the pearl, Brayleigh. No
one knew I was on my way there. How could the killer have known I would be
present?"

Alaric leaned back in
his chair and studied the brandy in his glass with a dark gaze. "That is
an interesting question. Because I had an appointment with Ingram to purchase
the pearl that morning, Malcolm. I was supposed to meet him in the orchard at
his house exactly one half-hour after he was killed."

"You were? You
never told me that." Rowena looked surprised.

"It didn't seem
important. The man was dead when I got there. But I'm sure Malcolm wondered at
the time how I arrived on the scene so quickly."

"I did. I
thought you'd come to gloat. It was another reason I was sure you'd killed him,"
said Malcolm bluntly.

"So if the
killer knew your schedule, perhaps he hid in the orchard, waiting for you to
arrive. When he heard Malcolm's carriage, he presumed it was you arriving
early, Alaric, and he shot Ingram. But it was Malcolm who had come, not his
true quarry. Think how disappointed he must have been!" Rowena clapped her
hands, delighted with her theory.

"Not to mention
my disappointment," interposed Malcolm. There was a small pause.

"It's possible,"
said Alaric. "I hadn't thought of myself as the target before, because I
simply believed Malcolm had allowed his temper to get the better of him. But
now there is the distinct possibility that he disrupted someone else's
carefully laid plans."

"Or she,"
interposed Malcolm. "I said before that this seemed like something a woman
would do. Marguerite was very angry with you, Alaric. You'd thrown her out on
her ear, saying you'd never marry her, even if she got a divorce from old
Bingham. I'd say she was ready to do anything to hurt you. You should have
heard the things she had to say about you! I certainly was bored with the
subject after a few weeks in her company."

"Lady Bingham!
She is the perfect suspect," crowed Rowena. "She is certainly
spiteful, and I can vouch for her creativity. Do you remember what she and
Voxley attempted to do to me, Alaric?"

"I do,"
said Alaric grimly. "But that hardly makes her guilty. We need more proof
than the fact that she had a motive and we all dislike her."

"I don't dislike
her," said Malcolm frankly. "I have fond memories of, er...our time
together. She made my first few months on the Continent bearable. But that
doesn't mean she doesn't have a vicious streak. I'd hate to be on the wrong side
of it."

"Precisely,"
said Rowena. "And she would have known your calendar, Alaric. Who else but
your mistress would have been certain that you were going to Merton that
morning?"

"She was no
longer my mistress," Alaric pointed out. "Otherwise there would have
been no need for her to get revenge."

"But she knew
the servants in your home, and could have bribed one of them," said
Rowena. "That would have been very easy for her to do, wouldn't it?"

"I suppose so,"
admitted Alaric. "She spent a good deal of time at my house and I did not
make a general announcement to servants that she had been...dismissed."

"There, she must
have done it," said Rowena. "Now we simply have to prove it."

"Therein lies
the problem," said Alaric. "After twelve years it will be difficult
to discover anything at all, much less proof."

"Well, we must
begin somewhere," said Rowena. "I think I should pretend to Lady
Bingham that I am investigating Ingram's murder. After all, she is the one who
brought Malcolm back to England, so she surely knows I will be curious about
it. I will ask her to tell me everything she knows, and perhaps she will say
something incriminating. I have never received the impression that she is
particularly intelligent, and she will hardly think I suspect her."

"No, she will
try to implicate me," said Alaric. "She has been trying to do that
for twelve years now."

"Which is simply
more evidence that she is the murderer," said Rowena promptly. "Why
else would she be so persistent?"

"If she is the
killer, you will do nothing so dangerous as to speak to her," ordered
Alaric. "You are as likely as she is to allow something to slip."

"That is unfair.
I do not have a great deal of experience at conspiracy, but I believe I could
be quite good at it," said Rowena.

"You were not
particularly skilled at hiding your meetings with Malcolm from me,"
observed Alaric. "I shudder to think what you might reveal to Marguerite."

"I am not as
scatterbrained as you believe, Alaric. I hardly think that deceiving Lady
Bingham will be particularly difficult; she believes that everyone is as venal
as she is herself. Unless you believe her intellect to be superior to mine?"

Alaric's lips
twitched. "Of course not. But you are certainly impetuous and headstrong,
and I am reluctant to put you into any type of dangerous situation. If
Marguerite did indeed kill Ingram twelve years ago--and I have to say that I
find it highly unlikely--then she is a person to be avoided. There is no reason
to think that she would not kill again."

"She can shoot,"
said Malcolm suddenly. "I've seen her. Said her father taught her; thought
she should be able to take care of herself. And that's one thing she's always
done."

"There, you see
Alaric? She is surely the guilty party. And unless you can think of a better
plan, we will have to go with mine." Rowena folded her arms across her
chest and looked at Alaric.

"If you think I'm
going to allow you to go to the home of a woman with her reputation, who is a
possible murderess to boot, and attempt to interview her, you are deluding
yourself, Rowena. Malcolm and I would have no way to protect you in such a
circumstance. It is out of the questions. Malcolm clearly is still on friendly
terms with Marguerite, and she will continue to help him because she believes
he is causing me trouble. I think it would be far better if he searched
Marguerite's house for the pearl, which I am sure she would still have. She is
aware of its value, and Marguerite would never throw something away she thought
was valuable. She knows that neither her face nor her bosom will be her fortune
forever; she would be hoarding it against future need."