The Grand Sophy (28 page)

“In that event,” said Sophy, “I shall certainly go to Bow Street, because I am persuaded they will not believe there, any more than I do, that it was stolen. If you have not got it, you must have sold it, and that means you may be prosecuted. I inquired of a most respectable jeweler only this morning what the law is with regard to pledged articles.”

Mr. Goldhanger, revolted by this unwomanly knowledge of the law, cast her a glance of loathing, and said, “I have not sold it!”

“No, and it was not stolen from you, either. I expect it is in one of the drawers of this desk, together with the bond, for I can’t imagine why you should have bought such a handsome piece of furniture, unless it was to lock valuables away in it. And it may even be that you keep a gun of your own in it, so perhaps I should warn you that if you pulled the trigger quicker than I did, I left a letter at my home to inform my parents precisely where I had gone to and what my purpose was.”

“If I had a daughter like you, I would be ashamed to own her!” said Mr. Goldhanger, with real feeling.

“Nonsense!” said Sophy. “You would probably be very proud of me, and would have taught me how to pick pockets. And if you had a daughter like me she would have scrubbed your floors for you and washed your shirt, so you would have been a deal better off than you are now. Pray do not keep me waiting any longer, for I am quite tired of talking to you, and, indeed, have found you a dead bore from the outset!”

Mr. Goldhanger had been called a villain, a bloodsucker, a cheat, a devil, a ghoul, and innumerable other hard names, but never had anyone told him that he was a dead bore, and never had any of his victims looked at him with such amused contempt. He would have liked to have closed his long, bony fingers round Sophy’s throat and choked the life slowly out of her. But Sophy held a gun, so instead he unlocked a drawer in his desk, and sought in it with a trembling hand for what he wanted. He thrust a ring and a scrap of paper across the desk, and said, “The money! Give me my money!”

Sophy picked the bond up, and read it; then she put it, with the ring, into her muff, and withdrew from this convenient receptacle a wad of bills and laid it on the desk. “There it is,” she said.

Mechanically, he began to count the bills. Sophy rose. “And now, if you please, will you be so obliging as to turn your chair round with its back to the door?”

Mr. Goldhanger almost snarled at her, but he complied with this request, saying over his shoulder, “You need not be afraid! I am very glad to see you go!” He added, quivering with fury, “Doxy!”

Sophy chuckled. Fitting the key into the lock and turning it, she said, “Well, I really believe I would rather be a doxy than a turnip dressed up in a sheet to frighten silly boys!”

“Turnip?” repeated Mr. Goldhanger. “Turnip—?”

But his unwelcome guest had gone.

XII

HUBERT WAS on his way upstairs to his room that evening when he met his cousin, coming down from the schoolroom. She said, “Hubert! The very person I wanted! Wait, I have something for you!” She then went into her own room, and came back in a minute or two, looking mischievous, and said, “Shut your eyes, and stretch out your hand!”

“Now, Sophy, is this something horrid?” he demanded suspiciously.

“Of course it is not!”

“Well, you look as though you meant to hoax me,” he said, but he obediently shut his eyes and held out one hand. Sophy placed his ring and his bond in it, and told him he might now open his eyes. He did so, and suffered so severe a shock that he dropped the ring. “
Sophy
!”

“What a careless creature you are!” she remarked. “Don’t neglect to burn that silly piece of paper! I very nearly did it myself, for I am sure it would be just like you to leave it in your pocket, but then I thought you would like to see for yourself that it really has been recovered.”

He bent to pick the ring up. “B—but, Sophy, how—who— how came this into your hands?”

“I had it from your Mr. Goldhanger, of course.”

He gave a gasp. “Had it from— You did not go to that old devil’s house! You
could
not have done so!”

“Yes, I did. What should stop me?”

“Good God!” he ejaculated. He grasped her wrist, and said sharply, “Why did he give it up to you? Do you tell me you paid him the money I owed him?”

“Oh, don’t give that a thought! I happened to have five hundred pounds by me, and you will pay me back sometime, I expect. There is no need to look so shocked, you silly boy!”

“Sophy, I cannot bear it!” he said, in a strangled voice. “Besides, he lent it to me at fifteen per cent per month, and I know well he would never have parked with my bond for a penny less than was his due! Sophy, tell me the truth!”

“I have done so. Of course, he did not like it very much, but he was obliged to do what I wanted, because I told him I should go to Bow Street if he refused. I think you were very right about him, Hubert! He is probably in league with every thief in London, for the instant I made that threat I could see how uneasy I had made him, so very likely he does not at all wish to be brought under the notice of the magistrates.”

“Goldhanger allowed himself to be frightened into giving up these things?
Goldhanger
?” he said incredulously.

“Well, what else could he do? I told him it was nonsensical to suppose that anything very dreadful would happen to you, if the whole matter was laid bare; and he knew that if I did go to Bow Street he would never be able to recover a penny of his money.”

“
You
with that slimy villain! Were you not afraid, Sophy?” he asked wonderingly.

“No, not a bit.” She added apologetically, “You know, I haven’t the least sensibility! Sir Horace says it is quite shocking, and most unfeminine. But, to own the truth, I thought Goldhanger was a ridiculous person. I was by far more afraid of El Moro! He was one of the guerrilleros and a dreadful rogue! He and his men broke into the house one night when Sir Horace was away—but never mind that! People who are forever recounting their adventures are the most tedious persons imaginable!”

“Sophy, he might have done you some mischief—!”

“Yes, but I had my pistol with me, so he very soon thought better of that notion!” she explained.

“Sophy, Sophy, what am I to do?” he exclaimed.

“Nothing. There is nothing left to be done. I must go, or I shall be late for dinner. Don’t forget to burn that paper!”

She vanished into her room, cutting short his stammered thanks and protestations, and since he did not see her alone again that night he was unable to repeat them. He was engaged with a party of his own, but his friends found him in an unconvivial mood. His thoughts were, indeed, in a sad turmoil, and although his relief at being rid of his debt to Goldhanger had been at first overwhelming, it was succeeded, as soon as he had had time to think the matter over, by a most uncomfortable feeling of guilt. That Sophy, a mere female (and younger than himself) should not only have paid off his debt, but should also have visited on his behalf such a person as Goldhanger, made him squirm in his chair. Blue Ruin did little to clear his intellect, and when he sought Berkeley Square in the early hours of the morning he was no nearer a solution of this new difficulty than he had been at the start of the evening, the only coherent thought in his head being that in some undiscovered way he must instantly pay his cousin five hundred pounds.

Mr. Rivenhall returned from Leicestershire on the following day, arriving in Berkeley Square at a somewhat infelicitous moment. Jane Storridge, whose vigilance Sophy had not sufficiently taken into account, had not only discovered that the diamond drops were missing from her mistress’s jewel case, but had raised such a hue and cry in the servants’ quarters that Mrs. Ludstock, the housekeeper, felt herself called upon to inform Lady Ombersley that while she was sure she did not know what servants were coming to these days she would take her dying oath that none of the maids under her control had touched Miss Sophy’s earrings; and, further, that anybody might be pardoned for thinking that a lady’s maid worthy of the name would take better care of her mistress’s valuables than Miss Storridge seemed to suppose was necessary. With the gist of these remarks Dassett also wished to be identified, and so pregnant with unuttered offence was his manner that Lady Ombersley became quite flustered, realizing that she stood upon the brink of a domestic disaster. She sent for Jane Storridge, and Mr. Rivenhall arrived in time to hear the end of a dialogue between the three servants so icily civil, so bristling with veiled innuendo as to terrify poor Lady Ombersley. Before he had the opportunity of demanding an explanation, Sophy herself came in, in her walking dress, saying that she and Cecilia were going out to do some shopping, and had her aunt any commissions for them? Lady Ombersley greeted her with relief, and at once asked her why she had not disclosed the loss of her earrings.

Sophy did not start, but a very slight flush rose to her cheeks. She replied with perfect composure, “I have not lost any earrings, dear ma’am. What is this?”

“Oh, my love, your maid says that your diamond drops are gone from your case, and I would not have had such a thing happen for the world!”

Sophy bent to kiss her cheek. “Aunt Lizzie, I am so sorry! It is quite my fault for having been so stupid as to forget to tell Jane! They are not lost. I took them to the jeweler to be cleaned and reset. One of the hooks was a little loose. How foolish of you to have worried her ladyship, Jane, before first asking me if I knew where the earrings were!”

“Cleaned?” cried Miss Storridge. “Why, Miss Sophy, as though I did not take all your jewels to Rundell and Bridge to be cleaned when we first came to London!”

“Yes, but I thought on the night of our ball that those drops looked quite dull,” responded Sophy. “Go away now, Jane; her ladyship has been plagued enough!”

She was aware of her cousin’s eyes upon her face, and a swift glance in his direction had informed her that there was an uncomfortably searching expression in them. However, he said nothing, so she got rid of her maid, ascertained that her aunt had no commissions for her to execute and went off, devoutly trusting that neither she nor Mr. Rivenhall would notice the continued absence of her diamond earrings.

But on the following day, just as she had sat down to a light luncheon with Lady Ombersley, Cecilia, Selina, and Hubert, Mr. Rivenhall walked into the room and handed her a small package. “Your earrings, Cousin,” he said briefly. “I think you will find that they have now been cleaned to your satisfaction.”

For once in her life, Sophy was bereft of all power of speech. Fortunately, he did not seem to expect her to say anything, for he turned away to carve himself a slice of ham and began to talk to his mother, desiring to know whether she wished to spend any part of the summer in Brighton that year. Lady Ombersley referred this question to Sophy. Brighton did not agree with her constitution, but the Regent had made the resort so fashionable that any number of distinguished persons would flock there in June, and if Sophy wished it she would certainly hire a house there for some part of the season.

Cecilia, who had her own reasons for wanting to remain in town, said, “Oh, Mama, you know you are never well in Brighton! Pray do not let us go! I am sure there is nothing more stupid than those parties at the Pavilion, and the excessive heat in the rooms quite knocks you out!”

Sophy at once disclaimed any wish to visit the place; and the rest of the meal was spent in discussing the rival attractions of Ombersley, Thorpe Grange, and Scarborough, with some reminiscences from Lady Ombersley on a summer she had spent at Ramsgate before the Regent’s patronage of Brighton had quite cast this resort into the shade.

When they rose from the table, Hubert, who had been trying unavailingly for some time to get his cousin alone, blurted out, “Are you busy, Sophy? Would you care to stroll in the garden for a while?”

“Thank you! By and by, perhaps! Charles, may I have a word with you at your convenience?”

He met her direct gaze unsmilingly. “By all means! Now, if you wish.”

Lady Ombersley looked vaguely surprised; Selina exclaimed, “Secrets! Are you hatching a plot, I wonder? Shall we like it?

“Nothing so exciting,” replied Sophy lightly. “Merely, Charles executed a commission for me.”

She accompanied him across the hall to the library. She was never one to beat about the bush, and no sooner had he shut the door than she said, without preamble, “Now, if you please, tell me what this means How did you know that I had sold my earrings, and why have you—as I suppose— bought them back for me?”

“I bought them back because I can think of only two reasons why you should have disposed of them.”

“Indeed! And what may they be, Cousin Charles?”

“I have never been permitted to see the bills for your ball, but I have some experience in these matters, and I can possibly guess at a rough total. If that is your explanation, you can want none from me. The arrangement was repugnant to me from the outset, as well you know.”

“My dear Charles, I have a great many expenses of which you know nothing at all! You are being absurd, you know!”

“I do not think that you have any expenses which your father would be unprepared to meet.”

She was silent for a moment. Then she said, “You have not yet told me what is the second of the reasons that occurred to you.”