To Trust a Thief (3 page)

Min smiled and thought quickly. The idea might be completely harebrained, but it had merit. “Well then, consider yourself temporarily affianced.” She held out her hand, intending to seal their deal with a handshake.

Instead, Arthur turned her hand over and pressed his lips to the back. “It’s much more appropriate to seal a betrothal with a kiss.”

Min’s stomach flipped and her hand tingled where Arthur’s lips had touched her skin. The sensation wasn’t unpleasant, far from it, but it did make her uncomfortable. Arthur was her friend. Period.

She pulled her hand from his. “Yes, well…we’d better find whatever it is your grandmother hid up here before someone finds us skulking in the book stacks without a chaperone. We’d be in a fine mess then.”

She turned from Arthur’s smug smile and knelt to examine the bottom shelf. “I think we missed this one.” Min removed each book, plunging her hand into the dark space behind every one. She took her time, wanting to be perfectly composed before she faced Arthur again.

She removed the last book on the shelf, but this time when she reached into the space behind it, her fingers met a wad of fabric.

“Arthur!”

He dropped to his knees beside her and she pulled out a small bundle wrapped in a piece of yellowed linen. Min unfolded the material and withdrew a large silver locket. She laid it on the palm of her hand, admiring the engraved design. Vines flowed along the border, encircling a ring of star-shaped hoya blossoms. At the center of the locket sat a large pearl surrounded by a dozen smaller pearls.

“Arthur, this is exactly like the locket the mystery woman in the portrait gallery is wearing!”

“Mystery woman?”

“The woman with no nameplate. According to a book I read, Edward Courtland, the man who supposedly lost the Courtland necklace, had a mistress. His falling-out with his wife is the reason the necklace was lost in the first place. And his mistress supposedly wore a locket just like this one. She was never seen without it. Don’t you see? If the locket is real, then the story must be true. The treasure really does exist!”

“Treasure? What are you talking about?”

“The treasure! The Courtland necklace.” Min hurriedly filled him in on all the details, excitement flooding through her. “There’s a portrait in the gallery of Lady Courtland wearing the necklace, and just across from it is a portrait of the mystery woman wearing
this
!”

“She’s wearing a locket like this?”

“Yes! Where on earth did your grandmother get this?”

“Only one way to find out,” Arthur said, helping Min to her feet. “I think we’d better talk to Grandmother.”

“What about Mr. Smythe?”

“We’ll get you back in time. Or he’ll just have to reschedule.”

Min smiled, ignoring a fleeting flash of guilt, and hurried after Arthur.

Chapter Four

Mrs. Carmichael ran her hands across the locket’s surface, over and over again. She had greeted Min and Arthur with a feeble smile, though she’d been obviously delighted, and relieved, when Arthur had announced their (pretend) engagement. But once they’d pulled out the locket, her mind had turned elsewhere.

Arthur’s grandmother was tiny, almost drowning in the numerous pillows and comforters upon which she lay. Her ancient hands shook as she popped open the locket. Min leaned forward so she could see the portrait inside. What she saw surprised her.

The portrait had been trimmed down so it consisted of only one eye and brow, looking through the locket as if the man had been turning away at the moment the painter captured him. The lashes were short and sparse. Faint wrinkles creased his skin at the corners. The deep brown of his iris pulled Min into its depths, the color still vibrant even though it was obviously very old.

“An eye portrait?” Min asked. “I didn’t realize people had exchanged these in the past. I mean, they’re all the vogue now, but this portrait must be decades old at least. I wonder to whom the locket belonged.”

“Anne Benton,” Mrs. Carmichael answered.

“Who?” Arthur asked.

“Anne Benton.” Mrs. Carmichael turned it over, exposing the back. At the center, in the same spot where the pearls graced the front, was a small square engraved with the initials AB. “The eye portrait is of Edward Courtland, the father of your aunt’s late husband. This locket was worn by his mistress.”

“But how did you come by it?” Arthur asked.

“I stole it.”

“Grandmother!”

Min bit her lip to keep from smiling at Arthur’s shocked tone. It was always hard to imagine one’s parents or grandparents doing anything untoward.

Mrs. Carmichael shrugged her frail shoulders. “Oh hush. I didn’t take it until after the poor woman died. She certainly wasn’t going to miss it.”

“Yes, but
why
did you take it, Mrs. Carmichael?” Min asked.

“For this.” She inserted the nail of her pinkie under the flayed flap of the portrait and carefully pried around the circumference until she was able to free it from the locket. “There we are.” Mrs. Carmichael lifted out a thinly folded square of paper.

“What is that?” Arthur asked, taking the paper from his grandmother.

He unfolded the delicate sheet. The yellowed page was sturdier than it looked, but he took care not to handle it more than necessary. Once the paper was completely unfolded, Arthur laid it out on his hand. The ends curled slightly over his palm. Random shapes and chicken scratches flowed from edge to edge, though the paper was so thin Min could see the contours of Arthur’s skin through it.

There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to the sketchy lines at first. But as Min continued to stare, a few landmarks took shape.

“Is that… Is that a map?” Min asked.

“Ah,” Mrs. Carmichael said, patting Min’s hand, “you’re a smart one. You’ll make an excellent wife for my boy.”

Min gave her a hesitant smile.

“Yes, my dear girl. It most certainly is a map.”

“To what?” Arthur asked. “I recognize a few of the buildings at the Thornmont estate, but…all these scratches and markings…what do they mean?”

“There is another piece of the map, but I was never able to find it.” Mrs. Carmichael lay back against her pillows with a tired sigh.

“To what does the map lead, Grandmother?”

Mrs. Carmichael turned her faded blue eyes to her grandson. “It leads to the answer to all your problems, my boy. The Courtland necklace.”

Min sucked in a shocked breath, excitement tingling at the base of her spine. “So the legend is true.”

Mrs. Carmichael nodded. “I’ve seen the necklace with my own eyes. I’ve touched it, even worn it for a few seconds when no one was looking. It’s real enough.”

“But no one has seen it for more than sixty years,” Arthur protested. “According to the story Min read, Edward Courtland stole it from his wife in revenge for his mistress’s death, though most assume the Courtlands just sold it off a piece at a time.”

“The Courtlands didn’t sell the necklace. If they had, your aunt would hardly need to take in students, that’s for certain,” she said to Min. “And Mr. Courtland certainly didn’t steal the necklace from his wife. What was hers was his. He’d have been stealing from himself. What kind of sense does that make?”

“So who took the necklace?” Arthur asked.

“Your grandfather.”

“What?” Arthur jumped up. Mrs. Carmichael remained silent, her steady gaze focused on Arthur until he calmed down enough to resume his seat on the edge of her bed.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “If Grandfather took the necklace, then where is it? Why is there a map leading to it?”

Mrs. Carmichael burrowed herself deeper into the pillows, her face showing a faint strain. “Your grandfather was always an impulsive man. Never planned for anything. An idea would grab him and he’d be off, no thought of the consequences.” The fond smile that graced her old lips faded a bit when she turned her gaze to her grandson. He obviously shared some traits with his grandfather…and Min doubted Mrs. Carmichael enjoyed seeing them in Arthur. She patted his hand and continued.

“One night, instead of returning the necklace to Mr. Courtland’s safe as he was supposed to, your grandfather took it. He brought it home, hid it under our mattress. He had such grand plans. We were going to run away. He wanted to buy me a villa in Italy and treat me like a queen. It’s hard to resist a man who says such things to you.” She winked at Min.

“But we needed money to travel, and to get set up. So he pried out one of the gems, intending to sell it in London. Then, the night before he was to leave, Miss Benton died. Mr. Courtland went crazy with grief. Your grandfather had to postpone his trip for several weeks. So he moved the necklace to a safer hiding place and drew a map to it in case anything happened to him. He thought it would be safer if he were the only one who knew the whereabouts of the necklace. If I didn’t know, I couldn’t be made to tell. Or maybe he just didn’t trust me not to run off with it in his absence,” she added, chuckling. “Though he did almost tell me where the second half of the map was hidden.”

“How did he ‘almost’ tell you?”

Mrs. Carmichael stroked the locket. “Miss Benton and Mr. Courtland had been very much in love. The eye portraits they kept of each other were their most prized possessions. Your grandfather put half of the map in the locket. The other half is on the back of the second portrait.”

“So you do know where it is.”

“Not quite. Mr. Courtland always kept the portrait of Miss Benton’s eye in a silver frame on his nightstand. After her death, he kept her locket right beside it. Since I was an upstairs maid, and your grandfather was Mr. Courtland’s valet, we both had access to his personal belongings. We thought something he cherished so much would be the safest place to put the maps. And if they were ever discovered, they’d be untraceable to us. But about a week or so after Miss Benton’s funeral, the framed portrait and the locket disappeared.

“I found the locket a few weeks later, under a chair in the far corner of Mr. Courtland’s room, as if he’d thrown it against the wall. I took it, and hid it in the library where it would be safe. We never discovered where the second portrait had gone. Your grandfather was going to draw a second map, but he died before he could. I never came across it again, though I never really searched for it.”

Mrs. Carmichael’s eyes grew sad. “My husband was killed before he could make it home with the money he’d made from selling the stone. He was found stripped bare, nothing on him.”

“But you’ve always told me Grandfather died of influenza.”

“I didn’t want you, or anyone else, to know the truth. And I didn’t want anyone searching for the jewels. That necklace is cursed. It was a curse to the Courtlands and a curse to us. If it hadn’t been for that necklace, we’d have grown old together, content and peaceful. Instead, your grandfather was murdered and I was left a widow at twenty years old with your father to raise on my own.”

“You were never tempted to find it?”

“No. I’d lost enough because of it.”

“Then why tell me now?” Arthur asked.

His grandmother raised a trembling hand to stroke his battered face. “That necklace led to your grandfather losing his life. But finding it might help save yours.”

Min sat in Arthur’s parlor and watched him pace back and forth in front of the hearth. He finally sat with a thump beside her on the sofa.

“I can’t believe my grandfather stole the Courtland necklace. The whole bloody legend came about because of him.”

Min sat in silence, allowing Arthur to process everything he’d been told. He finally leaned back against the couch.

“Your grandmother was right about one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“If we can find the necklace, all our problems will be solved.”

“Oh, Min, be serious.”

She grabbed Arthur’s hands. “I am being serious. Think about it. That necklace is worth a fortune. If we could find it, I’d be able to help my father and have enough money to live as independently as I wish, to do whatever, go wherever, for the rest of my life. And you’d have enough to pay off your debts to Lord Rellik.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“All we have to do is find the necklace.” She took the locket and held it up, swinging it slowly before his eyes. “And we are already halfway there. We just need to find the portrait of Anne.”

“Do you really believe we can find it?”

“Yes, I do.” Min watched the locket glinting in the sunlight before handing it back to Arthur with a sigh. “I’d better hurry if I’m going to make it in time to meet my aunt for tea. Perhaps she can shed a little more light on the subject.”

She met Arthur’s excited gaze and smiled.

Min waited in her aunt’s office, her knees nearly bouncing with excitement. Thanks to Arthur, this would be the last time she’d have to endure another suitor being thrown at her, though Arthur wouldn’t come by until later to discuss their engagement with her aunt. In any case, Min would put on a happy face and see if she could uncover a little information before Mr. Smythe arrived.

Her aunt bustled in right as the clock struck four. Lady Courtland was tall and thin, and she always wore high-collared, long-sleeved black dresses. The touches of white lace that adorned the necks and wrists of her garments lessened their severity a bit, but she still appeared to be in a perpetual state of mourning. Which, Min supposed, she was. Though her husband had been dead for ten years, Aunt Laura had loved him very much.

Her thick auburn hair, very similar to Min’s own, was piled neatly in a genteel bun, and her skin was smooth and clear, with only a few soft wrinkles at her eyes and lips to betray her age. She kept her back ramrod straight, walking and sitting with perfect posture. In short, Lady Courtland was the epitome of decorum, grace, and deportment: the perfect role model for a finishing school for young ladies.

Min greeted her with a kiss on each cheek and sat impatiently through the usual inquiries about her health and state of mind. Although her aunt appeared quite severe, she was actually rather friendly and loved to talk with
her girls
, as she referred to the students. She was especially fond of Min, the eldest daughter of her only sister, and seemed even more so since Min had encouraged her to open the finishing school. Min loved that her aunt cared so much, but she didn’t want to talk about herself.

Her aunt glanced at the small watch pinned to her bodice and pursed her lips. “Mr. Smythe is unforgivably late.”

“Yes, dreadful of him.” Min silently blessed him for his tardiness and seized her opportunity.

“Aunt Laura, I wanted to ask you about that portrait in the gallery, the one of the elder Edward Courtland. Do you know much about him?”

“Ah, admiring my late father-in-law, I see. Quite a rake in his day. He really was handsome, was he not? So much like my dear Edward.”

Min smiled. “Very handsome. In fact, there is a painting of a woman in the gallery, hanging near Edward’s. There is no nameplate. Was she his mistress?”

“Very possibly. We cannot be certain, of course. My in-laws had already passed before I met my Edward and it certainly wasn’t something they’d have discussed. But the paintings were made around the same time, so it seems likely.”

“The portrait of his wife, Tabitha, is hanging next to his. She’s wearing the Courtland necklace…”

“Ah, my dear girl. I already know what you really want to ask. And I admire your spirit! You’re not one to sit back and let fate dictate your life as it will. It’s a splendid quality. I wish I had half your mettle. But in this instance, I’m afraid I can’t be of any help. Believe me, if I thought for one second that necklace really existed, I’d tear this place down brick by brick to find it. In fact, my Edward spent several years doing just that. He got caught up in the adventure of the hunt and would have dismantled the whole house if I hadn’t stopped him.”

Aunt Laura reached over and gripped Min’s hand, squeezing it gently. “I know how wonderful it would be to find it. I wouldn’t need my little school, though I find I enjoy it more every day. More importantly, I could help your poor parents. But I don’t believe the necklace is anywhere to be found, if it ever existed at all. For all we know, the gems in the portrait were paste.”

“I suppose you are right.” Min tried to stifle her disappointment and pressed on. “Do you remember hearing of an eye portrait in your father-in-law’s possession? Something in a small silver frame?”

“An eye portrait? No, I can’t say that I have. And I’ve never seen anything of the like in this house. But he passed away many years before I came to live here so I suppose it is possible he owned something of the sort. Though if the portrait was of his mistress, it wouldn’t surprise me at all if it had been destroyed or hidden away somewhere. Remember, my dear, my in-laws’ story was the scandal of their day.”

Min’s heart dropped. It had been silly to hope that her aunt would be able to hand her all the information she needed on a silver platter. And it hadn’t occurred to her that some well-meaning person might have done away with the portrait in order to maintain the family’s respectability. Her chest tightened at the thought. They needed that portrait.