Andrea Kane (43 page)

“No,” Slayde echoed with a firm shake of his head. “You’re letting your imagination run amok, Courtney. ’Tis impossible.”

“Is it?” she asked in a small, shaken voice. “You’re probably right. I’m probably so overwrought that I’m no longer able to see clearly, so eager to resolve things that I’d stoop to doubting someone Aurora adores—someone I’ve come to consider a friend. If that’s the case, I’ll detest myself when all this is behind us. But, Slayde, we must explore every possibility.” Courtney inhaled sharply. “Suppose Miss Payne did have that meeting with Elinore? Suppose Elinore had a damned good reason not to mention it to your mother? Suppose she offered Miss Payne money, position, Lord knows what else, in exchange for something much more valuable?”

Slayde stared. “The diamond? You think Elinore was after the black diamond?”

“I think whoever orchestrated this scheme was after the black diamond. So, assuming Elmore was guilty, yes, I think she saw a way to acquire that stone.” An agonizing pause. “Not once, but twice. Ten years ago, she was your mother’s dearest friend. For all we know, that was a calculated effort on Elinore’s part, designed to help her learn of the diamond’s whereabouts. When Miss Payne approached her, it provided the perfect opportunity to go after the stone without endangering herself.” That sparked a thought, and Courtney glanced down at the journal, pointing to the March eighteenth entry. “Look. Miss Payne makes mention of your mother’s strongbox of jewels
and
its location, so she obviously knew of both. If she revealed that to Elinore, Elinore doubtless assumed the strongbox housed the black diamond and decided to go after it. I don’t know where she found and hired Armon, but he was perfect for the role she had in mind. She didn’t count on your parents interrupting his robbery. And then, after all that, the stone wasn’t even there. So she resumed her original plan, only now, with your mother dead, she ingratiated herself with Aurora. How hard do you think that was, given Aurora’s need for affection? And all the while Elinore would feel so utterly safe, knowing you were convinced that Lawrence and Chilton Bencroft were guilty.”

A muscle was working in Slayde’s jaw. “Chilton’s mind snapped a month before my parents’ murders. That’s when he and Lawrence burst into my home, shouting their accusations. Of course I thought they were guilty.” On the heels of his admission, Slayde was assailed by Mr. Scollard’s words of advice, resounding as clearly as if he were speaking them now.
Do with your mind what you did with your heart: clear it of the shadows that obstruct your sight. Once you’ve accomplished that, you’ll see what is truly there, not what you choose to see.

Drawing a sharp breath, Slayde met Courtney’s gaze. “The fact is, I was wrong. The Bencrofts weren’t guilty. But I was too blinded by emotion to be objective. I don’t intend to make that mistake again. So let’s follow this theory through.”

Shakily, Courtney nodded.

“What about the second attempt to steal the diamond,” Slayde pursued, “the one that brought you to me?”

“Again, assuming Elinore is guilty, ’twas another perfect opportunity for her to achieve her goal,” Courtney replied. “Aurora was restless, desperate to see the world. You were in India, scheduled to return at what was the height of the London Season. All Elinore had to do was arrange things with her henchmen: Armon would send the ransom notes and make the exchange, Miss Payne would ensure that you hadn’t a clue where Aurora was by seizing the note she left you. Then, Elinore could get her hands on the diamond and no one would be the wiser.”

“But Armon got greedy,” Slayde continued, looking utterly ill. “He undermined Elinore, made the exchange a day early, and fled with the stone.” A pensive pause. “That, however, raises another question. Can you honestly equate the charming woman who takes tea at our home with a ruthless killer? Because whoever hired Armon also shot him down in cold blood. That’s no longer accidental death, Courtney. That’s premeditated murder.”

“I realize that. But, if Elinore is behind this, her entire personality is a façade, and we don’t really know her at all. She’s feigned friendships, dismissed her own responsibility for your parents’ murders, even pretended to mourn them—and to care for their children. She’s manipulated, plotted, stolen, and, indirectly, killed. Could that kind of person commit premeditated murder? I would say yes.”

“She could have taken that shot at you,” Slayde reasoned aloud. “She’d have had ample time to follow us to Somerset, just as she’d have had ample time, upon returning from London and discovering Armon’s subversion, to ride to Dartmouth and kill him. But she had a motive for doing away with Armon. Why would she want to kill you? What would suddenly render you a threat?”

Memory exploded like fireworks. “Dear God,” Courtney breathed.
“I
gave her reason to feel threatened. Just before you and I left for London, I told her I intended to scour Armon’s ship until I found evidence of his employer’s identity. Slayde, no one but Elinore and Aurora were with me when I said that.”

“Hell. Bloody, bloody hell.” Slayde ran both hands through his hair. “No wonder Mr. Scollard kept talking about danger being at Pembourne’s portals, on its doorstep.”

“That’s right. He said that to you yesterday.” Courtney gripped Slayde’s arm. “Yesterday afternoon—at about the same time Elinore was visiting with Aurora. Lord, it all makes sense. Horrible, unbearable sense.”

“Courtney—” Slayde’s expression was haunted. “If you’re right, if all this speculation turns out to be true, I’ve blinded myself to a reality that could have endangered Aurora’s life.”

“Don’t think that way. Aurora is fine. She will remain fine.” Courtney turned, punctuating her claim by shoving the journal back in its spot beneath the nightgowns and shutting the drawer. “Let’s not react until we determine if all this speculation is fact. We have no proof, no confession. We don’t even know what Elinore intends to do with the diamond, if she has it. Obviously, she hasn’t tried to sell it, or she’d be aware that it’s fake. Which she definitely is
not
aware of; only yesterday she told Aurora how delighted she was with your decision to reveal the truth in the
Times,
so that your parents could at last rest in peace.” Courtney felt bile rush to her throat.

Eyes ablaze, Slayde seized Courtney’s arm. “Let’s go. ’Tis time for answers.”

Pembourne was silent as a tomb.

Long after Slayde exited the ballroom, having reconvened the entire staff and shared the real purpose for their earlier writing exercise—right down to describing the document that had provoked it—the servants huddled together, whispering in horror. The fact that one of them was a conspirator to murder was unfathomable.

Miss Payne shrugged into her coat and passed by Siebert, trembling so badly she could scarcely speak. “Siebert, I need some air.”

“I understand, madam.” He himself was sheet-white.

Exiting the manor, she collected the phaeton, disappearing down the drive and through the gates in a cloud of dust.

“That’s our cue,” Slayde muttered to Courtney and Oridge, from where their carriage was concealed by the roadside. “Let’s go.”

Elinore strolled about the garden, admiring her new emerald brooch and contemplating—with a surge of anticipation—the matching earrings that would soon be arriving. It was such a lovely treat to actually wear some of her prized possessions, she mused. So many of her treasures were far too precious to risk removing from their special case, much less don. Treasures such as the countess’s magnificent collection—especially, at long last, the majestic black diamond. She didn’t dare wear that, or any of her dear, departed friend’s gems lest someone recognize them and try to wrest them away. Nonetheless, ’twas well worth the sacrifice. She could still gaze at them each day, watch them sparkle on their velvet bed as they were captured by sunlight or shimmering in moonlight. How perfect they were—unflawed, unrivaled, and—in contrast to all else—immortal.

And they were hers.

A speeding phaeton shattered Elinore’s reflections, and she started, watching it race up the drive and come to a halt before her.

Her eyes smoldered as she saw who the driver was.

“Are you insane?” she hissed as Miss Payne leapt to the ground. “What are you doing here?”

“They know,” Miss Payne panted. “Lord Pembourne and the girl. They know.”

Elinore tensed. “Just what is it they know?”

“They found the sketch. I don’t know where, or how. All I know is they have it, they realize someone at Pembourne helped with the burglary, and they’re about to learn who that someone is.”

“And how are they doing that?”

“Lord Pembourne had all the servants write some words—giving us a fabricated reason as to why. Now, he’s on his way to London, seeking a handwriting expert. He’s going to match our hands with that on the sketch. Once he does, my identity will be known.”

“I see.” Frowning, Elinore stroked her brooch, its cool emerald surface a comforting balm. “How terribly unfortunate.”

“Unfortunate? Our entire lives are unraveling, and you consider that to be unfortunate?”

Elinore’s hand stilled.
“Our
lives?”

“Forgive me—
my
life,” Miss Payne hastily corrected herself. “Lady Stanwyk, you must understand. I can’t go back there. They’ll send me to Newgate. Please—you must give me that job you promised when I first approached you ten years past. I understand why, after Armon killed the earl and countess, I couldn’t leave Pembourne without arousing suspicion. But none of that matters any longer. If I go back, ’tis as good as a death sentence.” A choked sound. “Armon is no longer alive to be persuaded to vouch for my innocence. Lord Pembourne will assume I aided in the murders. I can’t take that risk.”

“No, indeed you can’t.” Elinore’s jaw set. “Nor can I.”

“Then you’ll offer me a position?”

“What good would a job do, you fool? Stanwyk isn’t a sanctuary from Newgate. Bow Street would simply come here, rather than Pembourne, to collect you. Not only you,” she added, her fingers tightening about her brooch, “but me, as well.”

“What shall we do?”

“I’m afraid that to remain in England is no longer an option. The only solution is to leave the country—now.” A delicate frown. “Armon is dead,” she mused aloud. “That leaves only you and Grimes. And Grimes is so unreliable. I did a thorough job of convincing him to keep quiet about the fact that I was forced to eliminate Armon, but he is so easily intimidated. Lord only knows what he’ll tell Lord Pembourne under pressure.”

“In that case, do we dare leave him behind?” Miss Payne asked.

“No. No one can be left behind.” Elinore’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “No one at all.” With that, she gave a firm nod. “Here’s what I want you to do. Ride to Dartmouth and alert Grimes to the situation. Both of you wait for me there. I’ll pack my things and make arrangements for safe passage to the continent. Then I’ll join you. By sunset, you’ll be gone.”

“Will Grimes cooperate—leave England on such short notice?”

A reassuring smile. “Grimes will present no problem.”

Grimes was pacing beside Miss Payne, wiping sweat from his brow, when Elinore arrived. The viscountess climbed gracefully down from her phaeton, pausing only to remove a solitary bag before gliding toward her waiting companions.

“Listen, your ladyship,” Grimes began, “I don’t know what the hell’s goin’ on here. I know you keep me in business. Hell, you buy ninety percent of the jewels I get my hands on—with or without Armon alive to supply them. But the only pirates and smugglers I know are here in England. I don’t have a clue who to connect with on the continent.”

“Why are you bothering to tell me all this?” Elinore inquired. She glanced down to ensure that her bag was beside her, safe, Grimes’s claim reminding her that it would be some time before she secured another fence—certainly one as accomplished and easily manipulated as he. Well, ’twas a small and temporary setback. She had an extensive collection to content herself with in the interim. Why, the black diamond alone could occupy her for weeks, simply admiring its facets, marveling at its incomparable beauty.

Grimes was regarding her oddly. “What do you mean, why am I tellin’ you this? Miss Payne says we’re leavin’ the country.”

“Is that what Miss Payne said?” Elinore raised inquisitive brows. “She was mistaken.” Swiftly, she extracted a pistol from beneath her mantle.
“I’m
leaving the country.
You’re
simply leaving.”

A shot rang out, striking the barrel of Elmore’s pistol.

With a cry of surprise, she dropped it.

Oridge stepped out of the trees, his own gun aimed carefully at Elinore. “I think you’ve killed enough people, Lady Stanwyk.”

“More than enough,” Slayde concurred, striding around to confront Elinore. “If you were a man, I’d beat you senseless,” he ground out from between clenched teeth.

“I harbor no such reservations.” Courtney stalked out from her concealed position, marching directly up to Elinore, who watched Courtney’s approach without so much as batting a lash.

“You’re a monster,” Courtney bit out. “A murderous, cold-hearted monster. Well, this is for Slayde’s parents. For Papa.
And
for the pain that learning of your guilt will cause Aurora.” Courtney drew back her hand and slapped Elinore across the face with all her might. “I hope you and your jewels rot in prison.”

“Rot?” Elinore scarcely flinched, looking more amused than pained. “That’s where you’re mistaken, Courtney dear—you, Slayde, Aurora, and all the other ignorant fools you just mentioned. ’Tis people who rot. Jewels, on the other hand endure.” An odd light flickered in Elinore’s eyes. “They endure forever.”

“C
OURTNEY, WAKE UP!”

One eye opened and regarded the semidark room. “Aurora, what time is it?”

“Half after five,” Aurora declared cheerfully. “Far too late to sleep on one’s birthday.” She yanked off the bedcovers, tugged at Courtney’s arms. “Come.”

“Come? Where?” Both eyes were open now, the final wisps of sleep gradually eclipsed by amusement. “Not even the birds are awake yet.”