Shades of the Past (29 page)

As Vanessa started to move toward the door and take leave of the others, Joan brought the pot of tea to the table.

"Well, Lady Gwendolyn is home at last, God rest her," Joan remarked, filling the cups for her husband and Nanny.  "It was fortunate his lordship's brother was in residence at the time and able to leave immediately for Paris.  How distressing for you to be stranded on foreign soil, alone, and under such sorrowful circumstances."

Vanessa watched her fill the last cup.  "Yes, fortunate indeed.  I've often thought it amazing how little coincidences play so great a part in our lives."

"Madam?" Timmons’s brows rose with a questioning slant.

Seeing that neither he nor Joan had followed her thought, she elaborated.

"Such as the coincidence of Mr. Marrable's being at Sherringham when my telegram arrived.  He'd come only on learning of the shipment of Italian tiles for the fireplace in the Orangery.  Had the tiles not been delivered at that time, he would have remained at the country estate where he'd been summering and not been here to receive my wire."

Timmons clasped his hands in front of him.  "Forgive me, but madam is mistaken.  The tiles arrived
after
Mr. Marrable had already departed for Paris."

Vanessa felt her heart jar in place.  "I don't understand.  Didn't he come to Sherringham to approve the tiles and oversee their installation?"

"Mr. Marrable did spend time at the Orangery, but I am certain it had nothing to do with the tiles as they were still en route."

"Yes, of course.  That is logical."  Vanessa rubbed her forehead, trying to put order to the numerous bits and pieces of information she'd been told over the last weeks.  She moved back to the table and lowered herself onto a chair.

"I am sorry to continue to press this—I am not questioning your word—but it was my understanding Lawrence, Mr. Marrable, received a telegram at Hadleigh Hall informing him of the tiles' arrival from Florence.  In hastening to Sherringham, he missed Lord Adrian's wire stating
he'd
left Scotland for London and that another of the Marrable jewels had been recovered."

A look of unease crossed Timmons's features.  "Again, I fear Madam is mistaken.  Mr. Marrable knew of his brother's journey to London.  The telegram was forwarded from Hadleigh Hall to Sherringham and arrived the day before your own."

A chill of foreboding spiraled through Vanessa.

"I remember it, too."  Joan moved to her husband's side.  "I commented to Mr. Timmons how odd it was to have so much activity at Sherringham after there being none for so very long."

"When the viscount's telegram arrived, I delivered it personally and placed it in Mr. Marrable's hands," Timmons finished.

Vanessa stared at the two, astounded.  She was glad to be already sitting.  If what Timmons said was true, then Lawrence had purposely withheld information of Lady Gwen's death from Adrian.  Why, if not to assure Adrian would be absent from the funeral and lower everyone's opinion of him even further?  Lawrence would also have been able to act in the viscount's place. 

Remembering the brittle look on Lawrence's face and the snide tone of his remark when Adrian arrived at the funeral unexpectedly, Vanessa knew, with a sick heart, she was right.

Nanny, who'd been listening intently from her chair, huffed an audible breath.  "Just like him, that one."

"Like who, Nanny?"  Vanessa rose and crossed to her chair.

"Master Lawrence, of course."  She referred to him as if still a child in her care.  "I see what he was about, trying to get his brother in trouble as he always does."

Vanessa blinked.  Had Nanny read her mind?  Or, more likely, did she simply know Lawrence so well?

"Master Adrian visited me, you know.  Right here, after Lady Gwen's funeral."  She poked a finger at the other chair, indicating he'd sat there at the time.  "He explained how his wire had crossed with his brother's, thus causing him to arrive late. 
Crossed,
indeed."  She huffed again.  "Master Lawrence knew.  He knew." 

Nanny stared into the flames in the fireplace, shaking her head softly.  "So different they are, from even before they could walk.  And Master Lawrence with such a temper!  A dark streak, some would call it." 

She suddenly rolled her eyes to gaze up at Vanessa, concern in their depths. 

"You must beware, child.  His dark side rules him at times.  Leads him to do things he doesn't mean.  He even hurt poor Nanny at times, long ago."  She sighed heavily and returned her attention to the fire and lost herself to her thoughts.

Shocked, Vanessa turned with the intent to leave.  She glanced to Timmons once more. 

"You are quite sure of the wire's content—that Mr. Marrable knew his lordship was no longer in Scotland?" 

"Yes, madam.  In fact, Mr. Marrable commented aloud to me about it, saying Lord Adrian had abandoned the Highlands to chase after another of the Marrable jewels.  He viewed it in a humorous light, or so I believed."

Dear God.  What else had Lawrence lied about? Vanessa wondered.  She held a final question, unsure she should pose it or whether she wished to know the answer. 

"Timmons, on the day of the funeral, Geoffrey told me his uncle forbade anyone around the Abbey Ruin, that it was unsafe.  Might you know to which uncle he referred?"

"Yes, madam.  That would be his Uncle Lawrence.  As you know, Lord Adrian departed Sherringham after Lady Olivia's death and took up residence in London.  His brother, Lawrence, was the only one of the family to visit Sherringham, and he did so regularly."

Regularly
—when everyone else stayed away?  The thought struck Vanessa as curious.  According to Cissy, it was Lady Gwen's funeral that had reunited the family at Sherringham after their prolonged absence from the estate.

Why had Lawrence visited with such regularity?  When everyone else had seemingly fled, what continued to draw him back to Sherringham?

»«

Lawrence worked the brick free from the chimneypiece and set it aside.  Reaching into the recess, he drew out a large velvet pouch, then emptied its contents onto the table's top.

He smiled as the mass of jewels flashed and sparkled with the fire's light.  Lifting a large emerald and diamond ring, Lawrence watched it glitter between his fingers.

“A pity we must part, but you require new lodgings.  Not for long.  Just a small while.”

He purposed to conceal the jewels in the wall of the Abbey Ruin, near to where Olivia had been found.  With a hint dropped into the constable's ear, they would be quickly discovered, making it appear Adrian had possessed them all the while, keeping ready access to them.

Of course, there was the matter of the jewels Lawrence had already sold that would require explanation.  He pondered the problem and decided on a simple, plausible account that could be put forth—Adrian had sold the pieces to cast suspicion away from himself.  Further, Adrian had cleverly engaged Scotland Yard, posturing as the wronged party in the crime.  As each item of jewelry came to light, he bought it back, thus returning it to Marrable hands and preserving the family's legacy.

Lawrence smiled.  It was a tidy explanation.  Entirely believable.  The beauty and truth of it all was that he, himself, had received significant sums when he'd sold the jewels.  Adrian, on the other hand, had doggedly located them and purchased them back at his own expense. 

Lawrence's smile widened.  Once Adrian was removed as viscount, the Marrable jewels would be in his possession once more—to keep, or to sell, all over again.  He was not as partial to them as the rest of the family. 

A dull, blackened brooch drew Lawrence's eye and he plucked it from the rest.  The design was the same as the one burned into his hand—a heron with its wings outspread—easily discernible to anyone who examined it closely.  That he could never allow, for then the truth would be out.  He'd not been trying to save anyone in the fiery carriage accident when he'd burned his hand.  He was trying to retrieve the Marrable jewels from the flames—to take for himself.  Foolishly, he snatched this one from the fire without protecting his hand and, in turn, seared its design into his palm.

Lawrence closed his fingers over the scar and the memory of the excruciating pain he'd suffered.

He'd no idea, of course, when he scrambled down the ravine that he would discover the treasured jewels.  He'd known nothing of Olivia's intentions to abscond with them until the moment he found them spilled from a small, broken chest and scattered on the ground. 

His thoughts skipped to the note she'd evidently written him that night.  He’d only learned of it this morning, at the constable's office.  Grealey had then displayed the letter importantly, claiming it to be grounds enough with the other known "facts" for holding and charging Adrian.  Grealey had not the remotest notion that Olivia had actually meant her note for him.

Lawrence returned the charred piece to the niche in the chimneypiece, placing it deep inside.  It mustn't be found to raise suspicions of any kind.

He turned his attention to the other jewels piling the table and began scooping them back into the velvet pouch. 

The authorities and courts must be convinced of Adrian's guilt.  To that end, Lawrence knew he must carefully prepare the evidence.  He'd place the jewels in the wall and alter Auntie's account.  Then he'd play the role of the distressed brother, doing all that he could for the family, while at the same time assuring all progressed to the desired conclusion.

It would be a long, messy affair, no doubt.  Vanessa would require consoling, which he'd willingly provide.  The lad too.  He hadn't wished to hurt his nephew, but there was no help for it.  He couldn't very well reveal the truth of Auntie's letter and name himself as Olivia’s killer.  It was incredible enough he'd been able to think as rapidly and coherently as he had.

Instinctively, in disclosing what information he did, he’d held close to the actual facts, hoping to be convincing.  The only alteration was in substituting Adrian's name for his own, claiming his noble brother to be the one Gwen had seen cause Olivia's death.  Truth was, Adrian had long departed Sherringham before Olivia even came to the tower study.  Lawrence knew, because it was he, himself, she'd sought concerning the matter of Bonnie Beckford.

Laying the velvet pouch aside, Lawrence took up Gwen's confession and examined it carefully.  The lines opened with an apology to Adrian, followed by the revelation of her love affair with Darnell, her confinement in the south of France with her sister-in-law, and the birth of her golden-haired son.  Those pages he'd burn, Lawrence decided.  Fortunately for him, Gwen had chosen to begin her account of the scene she'd witnessed in the tower on a fresh page.

Scanning those pages now, he noted that Gwen had written out his name in full only once.  As ladies often did in their endless correspondence, she employed initials for all the following entries, referring to him simply as "L." 

Again fortune smiled on him.  His full name only appeared on one page, and it was at the bottom edge of the sheet—the sole word on the last line.  That could easily be cropped off.  Adrian's name could then be added at the top of the following page, misaligning the margin somewhat but not noticeably.  The "L's" he'd convert to "A's," incorporating the lower sweep of the letter as a flourish—all still in keeping with Gwen's flowing script. 

Taking heart, he assured himself his plan was completely viable.  He would need to practice Gwen's handwriting and check for "A's" in the pages that could be compared to his altered "L's."  Gratefully, she'd never abandoned using the purply-blue brand of ink favored at Sherringham.  He'd dilute the new ink to make it appear faded, or at least not so fresh, upon the page.  He'd also need a fine-nibbed pen, to match the one used by Gwen.

His course decided, Lawrence returned the pouch of jewels to the cavity in the chimneypiece.  He next collected the papers and separated out those detailing his birth, intending them for the fire.  The remainder he added to the niche along with the photograph.  That he'd not burn—just yet. 

After working the brick back into place, Lawrence carefully remounted the carved, stone plaque bearing the Marrable panther, further concealing the secret vault. 

A sudden shiver took hold of Lawrence, and he realized with a start that the room had grown icy cold.  Though he'd begun a fire in the grate on first arriving, the fireplace proved sorely ineffective. 

It had never been properly tested, of course, especially with the tiles being newly installed following Gwen's funeral.  Tonight was a particularly unpleasant evening and a sure test.  Lawrence could hear the wind rattling the shutters in their casings on the floor below.  He'd attend to any problems with the fireplace another time.  For now, it was adequate to do the work he required.

Taking hold of the brass poker from beside the hearth, Lawrence stirred the fire.  Satisfied, he returned the poker to its stand, tossed the pages from Gwen's confession into the grate, and strode from the room. 

Shutting the door solidly behind him, he concentrated his thoughts on obtaining the needed writing supplies from the manse.  There would be no saving Adrian after he was through.  There couldn't be.

»«

As the flames licked at the sheaves of paper, a volley of wind burst down the chimney, extinguishing the fire and blowing the pages out of the grate and onto the hearth.