A Conspiracy of Ravens (9 page)

“Things change, St. John. Edward doesn’t love Rupert. They’re not very close brothers. I know he hates to think of Rupert being head of this family. He knows how cold and unfeeling he is.” She came forward and reached up to put her hand on his cheek. “If you would only learn to please your uncle, he might name you as his heir.”

“That’s not very likely.”

“Well, consider that Rupert might die.”

St. John suddenly smiled. There was something unpleasant about this smile, however. He could be charming enough when he chose, but there was a sardonic streak in him that went against the grain for many people. “Wouldn’t it be convenient if a bolt of lightning would strike down both Rupert and Arthur, then he’d have no choice but to make me his heir.”

“That’s no way to talk, St. John!”

“Well, it would take something that startling to get my uncle to accept me as his heir. Poor Arthur is unfit to be head of the family. Edward loves him, but he knows him too well.”

St. John suddenly laughed, put his arm around his mother, and hugged her. “I have it! You know how Uncle Edward dotes on Gervase. I’ll marry her, and he’ll make me his heir to please her. You know how she’s his favourite.”

“St. John, she’s your cousin!”

“What does that matter? She’s adopted, so she’s no kin to me.” Suddenly he shrugged and stepped back from his mother. “I’m going to warn Gervase about that actor that Lady Trent is bringing.”

“I think that might not be out of place. She’s foolish over him, and you know what a foolish young girl can do.”

“Certainly. They’re not like steady young men such as I am, right?” He laughed, turned, and left the room.

Gervase’s maid was putting the finishing touches on her mistress. Gervase had beautiful hair, golden and long, and now done up in a most attractive fashion. She had green eyes and a fine figure. She felt a touch on her leg and looked down at the large cat. “Jeremiah, what do you want?”

“I think he wants to be let out,” the maid said. Della Munson knew her mistress very well. “I don’t know why you like that cat. All he does is fight and bring you dead things.”

“They’re presents. He thinks they please me.” Leaning over, Gervase stroked the blunt, scarred head of Jeremiah and said, “You love me, don’t you, Jerry?”

A knock suddenly sounded, and she called, “Come in. Oh, hello, St. John. My, you look nice. Is that a new suit?”

“Yes, I’ve run up another bill with my tailor. Uncle Edward won’t like that. You look very nice.”

“Thank you, St. John. You can go now, Della. You’ve done very well.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As soon as the girl left, St. John came over and put his hand on her head. “I think I’ll mess your hair up. That bloody actor won’t look at you then.”

“Don’t you dare!” She stood to face him, having to look up, for she was not a tall woman. “He’s such a handsome man, St. John.”

“Of course he is. That’s what actors are: good-looking, shallow people with no brains and no morals.”

“Oh, you’re wrong about that! He’s very smart. He helped get Aldora’s brother Clive free when he was accused of murder. Now you be nice to him.”

“Oh, I’m always nice, and I’ll be especially nice to the policeman. What’s his name?”

“Inspector Matthew Grant. I think he’s in love with Aldora.”

St. John grinned. “Well, that won’t help him. I’ve decided to marry Aldora myself.” He laughed as she stared at him. “The Vis-countess of Radnor can afford to support one penniless and useless husband of a beloved sister, don’t you think?”

“Don’t be mean, St. John. You have so many gifts. Why don’t you finish school and make something out of yourself like Clive? He’ll be an excellent barrister one day.”

“Too much trouble.”

“You’d better be careful. I heard Uncle Rupert telling Edward that he ought to make you go to work.”

“Oh, he sings that sad song all the time. He despises me, but then he despises most people, doesn’t he? Come along. Let’s go down and prepare to meet the guests.”

They walked downstairs together, and he whispered, “There, they’re coming in right now.”

Indeed, Lord Darby and his wife Heather were standing together, greeting the newcomers. He smiled at Serafina saying, “Lady Serafina, your family arrived in good form a short time ago. They’ll be joining us later.” He turned then and said, “And here’s the dear girl. I claim a godfather’s right to a kiss.”

He leaned over and kissed Dora on the cheek, and she said, “I’ve missed you, Uncle.”

“And I missed you.”

Serafina said, “Let me introduce your guests. Mr. Dylan Tremayne and Inspector Matthew Grant. This is our dear friend Lord Darby and his wife, Lady Heather, and this is Miss Gervase Hayden and Mr. Bramwell St. John.”

After the brief introduction, Serafina said, “I told you, Lord Darby, about how these two gentlemen were such a help in getting Clive freed.”

“Yes, I was very pleased to hear that, and we’re very happy to have you for the ball.”

Heather smiled. “Your rooms are ready. I’m sure you want to go freshen up before dinner.”

“Crinshaw,” Lord Darby said, turning to a cadaverous-looking man, “will you show our guests to their rooms?”

Matthew and Dylan followed the butler upstairs. He led them down the hall, then opened two doors. “This will be your room, Inspector, and right across the hall will be yours, sir.”

“Thank you very much.” Matthew waited until the butler left and then walked in and looked around. “What a room!” he murmured. “I feel like a blasted impostor. This is not my kind of life.”

“Nonsense,” Dylan said. “Carpe diem! Seize the day, man! Enjoy the food and dance with Dora.”

“I feel out of place. Everyone will be wondering what a grubby policeman is doing here.”

“It’s nobody’s business to go poking their old noses into! Think of it like this: you’re twice as intelligent as anybody you’ll meet here. Just do what I do.”

The workings of Dylan’s mind always intrigued Grant. “What are you going to do?”

“What I always do.” Dylan smiled. “Let’s think of this as a play. I’m expected to be the empty-headed, egocentric actor who’s moving above his station. What does that matter? Let’s just enjoy the food and the ball.”

“Well, that’s fine for you, but I’m no actor.”

“We’re all actors, Matthew, yes? All of us are playing roles all the time, pretending to be something we’re not.” He walked around the room gesturing as if he were on a stage. “Shakespeare hit it right on the head in
As You Like It.
He said:

All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts.

Matthew laughed. “A fine bunch of hypocrites you make us out to be!”

“Not at all, Matthew. I’m only tormenting you. I can play a role like that, but you’re Matthew Grant, an inspector with Scotland Yard. Don’t try to be anything else, and Dora will be very proud of you.”

“I hope so,” Matthew said gloomily. “I’m not accustomed to this sort of thing with rich people.”

“Don’t worry about it. Rich people are only poor people with money, you see?”

“Yes, but money makes a difference.”

FIVE

L
ady Bertha Mulvane would never admit to it, but she had one serious problem—she was totally and completely colourblind. This resulted in a very strange and often almost frightening combination of colours in her attire. She was never willing to admit, however, that others could see something that she herself could not.

The dress she wore to the ball was a particularly leprous grey, and the shawl around her neck was purple—not just a mild purple but a blazing, screaming, shouting purple that clashed with everything else she had on. No one had ever come directly out and confronted Lady Bertha with the truth, for it would have been dangerous saying such a thing to one who believed herself perfectly normal, capable, and even superior in every way. She was dominating now the small group that had gathered prior to going into the ballroom, saying to Lord Darby in stentorian tones, “I must apologize for my family, Lord Darby, and to you, too, Lady Darby. I want you to understand that it was not any of my doings to invite that awful actor fellow and that policeman to the ball.”

Edward Hayden, the Earl of Darby, was accustomed to the antics and blindness of Lady Mulvane. He was perfectly aware that she had no legal right whatsoever to call herself Lady Mulvane, but it made the old woman happy. “That’s quite all right, Lady Mulvane,” he said. “They’ll be interesting enough, I’m sure.”

“Yes, indeed!” St. John, who was standing back slightly from his uncle and aunt, said, “We’re all aware, Lady Mulvane, of the help that these two gave to Lady Trent in the matter of her brother, Clive.”

“It’s one thing,” Bertha sniffed, “to be involved with the frightful people on stage and even worse the criminals that the inspector is forced to deal with, but to bring them into a proper society shows a lack of feeling.”

“Well, Gervase was quite taken with Mr. Tremayne when she saw him in a play. She doesn’t ask for much, and it was the least I could do. And, of course, when Lady Trent invited the inspector, that was enough to tell us that they would be perfectly acceptable guests.”

They looked up to see the two men in question approaching them, and Edward said, “You two are all settled, I take it?”

“Yes, Lord Darby, we are,” Dylan said pleasantly. “Very gracious of you to allow us to come. Not many men of your station would welcome a lowly actor and policeman to a ball.” As soon as he said this, Dylan saw every eye go to Lady Mulvane, and she made an expression as if she had just swallowed a toad. Her face turned almost as purple as her dress, and Gervase, who was part of the group, said, “Did you choke on something, Lady Mulvane?”

Lord Darby changed the subject and asked Dylan what had happened to the superintendent of Scotland Yard who had been convicted of the murder for which Clive had been accused. “He’s being deported to Australia for life,” Dylan said. “Sorry for him, I am. I’ve been to see him several times.”

Rupert, who had been standing off to one side watching the scene carefully, spoke up. “Well, it’s regrettable to see justice not done. He should have been hanged, of course.”

Dylan shook his head. “I feel sorry for the man. His life is ruined.”

Rupert snorted. “He should have been hanged. He would have been if he had been a working man.”

Gervase was looking up at Dylan, and she asked, “What do you say to a man who’s faced such ruin?”

Dylan shrugged. “To someone who’s lost everything there’s only one comfort, and that is the Lord Jesus Christ.”

The remark seemed to cast a net of silence around the group. Serafina was amused. She herself was accustomed to Dylan’s outspoken religious beliefs, but she saw that Darby and his wife and the others were rather stunned by it. “You’ll have to get used to Mr. Tremayne’s brand of religion. He’s quite outspoken about it. I expect he’ll wind up as a Methodist street preacher one day.”

St. John was standing beside his mother, and he suddenly changed the subject. “You might have a case to solve here, Lady Trent.”

“Whatever do you mean, Mr. St. John?” Serafina asked. “And don’t take my reputation as a detective too seriously. Inspector Grant here is the one who is adept at catching criminals. I was just lucky in one or two cases.”

“What sort of case would be in a setting like this?” Dylan asked with surprise.

“Why, you probably haven’t heard about it,” St. John said, “but Lord Darby was fired upon by someone. The bullet narrowly missed him.”

“Is that true, Sir Edward?” Serafina asked, turning to face him. “I never heard about it.”

“Oh, there was nothing to it. I was out in the woods, and there were other hunters there. You know how far a rifle bullet can carry. It could have been half a mile away. He missed a shot, missed all the trees, missed me, too, by a goodly margin.”

“Not all that goodly,” St. John argued. “The bullet came within a few feet of your head.”

Darby simply laughed. “It was just a hunter in the woods,” he said. “Shall we go in?”

The party entered the glittering ballroom where chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their crystal facets winking in the barest movement of air. Lights burned from the gas brackets on the walls. Diamonds sparkled from the throats and arms and hair of the women, and reflected light glanced off the polished tables and on silver and in glass. Already there were many people there, and the musicians who were ensconced at one end were playing a sprightly tune.

Gervase at once went to Dylan and said, “You’ll discover that I have very few social graces, Mr. Tremayne. I’ve always thought it rather evil that a woman has to wait until the man asks her to dance. Therefore, would you dance with me?”

“I totally agree with you. Men and women are equal in all respects.”

“I hope you remember that, Dylan,” Lady Trent said sarcastically. “There have been times when I have felt you were not quite so sure of that dictum.”

“Nonsense. I’m always on the woman’s side. It will be a pleasure to dance with you, Miss Gervase.”

As they went to the floor and began to dance the waltz, she said, “You’re a better dancer than I am.”