Wrede, Patricia C - Mairelon 01 (25 page)

           
"Aren't,"
Mairelon said without thinking. He blinked. "Aren't we?"

           
"Well,
Dan don't--doesn't have his guns any more," Kim admitted. "That's
something. But we still haven't found that platter. The real one, I mean. And
we ain't--aren't going to with this lot of Bedlamites muddling everything up
proper."

           
"Ah,
yes; thank you for reminding me," Mairelon said. He glanced around, then
took two steps sideways and reached under a chair. He straightened and held up
the vine-covered silver sphere that Dan had used to focus the spell he had cast
on Kim. "You don't happen to see the other one, do you?"

           
"It's
next to Mr. Aberford's foot," St. Clair said. Mairelon gave him a sharp,
suspicious look,
then
retrieved the second sphere
without comment. "I do hope you aren't planning to repeat Daniel's lunacy,
Merrill," Lord St. Clair went on. "Not only was it an uncomfortable
and dangerous bit of sorcery, it was pointless as well. I doubt that you could
do any better."

           
Mairelon
raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly. "You think not?"

           
"Richard,
don't be a fool!" Andrew said.

           
"It
matters not at all," Renee announced. "For that annoying person with
the pistols was not
so
altogether unsuccessful as you
think. Look!" She pointed toward the fireplace.

           
Kim
blinked, not understanding; then she saw the silver shimmer on the hearthstone.
Mairelon immediately lost all interest in St. Clair. "Well, well!
Andrew--no, you'd better keep hold of Laverham. Aberford and Marston, then;
come and lend a hand."

           
It was
not quite as easy as that; Jonathan had first to be extracted from the rest of the
cords on his wrists, and Jasper only stood and glowered until Lady Granleigh
poked him and pointed eloquently. It took the three of them longer than Kim
expected to find the notches in the edge of the stone and pry it out.

           
Mairelon
reached down into the gaping hole and lifted out a familiar-shaped bundle. Kim
held her breath as he pulled the canvas wrapping away and took hold of the
silver handles.

           
"The Sacred Dish!"
Jonathan breathed.

           
"Is
it another fake?" Kim demanded, unable to bear the suspense.

           
"No,"
Mairelon said. He looked up with a broad smile. "This is the real Saltash
Platter."

           
There was
a long silence while everyone stared at the heavy silver tray. Then Lady
Granleigh swept forward.

           
"I
believe that belongs to my dear friend, Mr. Charles Bramingham," she said.
"It should be returned to him at once."

           
"By you?"
Mairelon's tone was polite; too polite.

           
Lady
Granleigh lifted her chin. "Certainly," she replied without blushing.

           
"No!"
Jonathan Aberford leaped to his feet and planted himself between Mairelon and
Lady Granleigh. "The Sacred Dish belongs to the Sons of the New Dawn! It
will not leave this house!"

           
"No,
no, really, Jon," Freddy protested. "I lost it to Henry at play; told
you
that ages
ago. So it doesn't belong to the Sons.
Doesn't belong to this Charles person, either, if it comes to that.
It's Henry's."

           
" 'Ere
," said Stuggs, "somebody give me a
'and with this cove afore 'e breaks 'is arm accidental-like."

           
Kim
grinned malevolently at Jack and crossed the room to retrieve the cord that had
been used to tie Mairelon and Jonathan. She tossed it to Stuggs, who snatched
it out of the air and had his grip back on Jack's arms before Jack realized he
had missed a chance to get free. Kim grinned again to hide her unease and
kicked a broken chair rung out of her way. Between the chair Freddy had
smashed, the window Dan had broken, and the table Kim herself had overturned,
walking across the room was becoming decidedly hazardous. Kim retreated to the
back wall, where she could see everyone without getting in the way.

           
Lord St.
Clair looked up from the platter at last and turned a cool, thoughtful gaze on
Renee d'Auber. "So you were lying," he said.

           
"But
of course," the Frenchwoman replied with a Gallic shrug. "I did not
at all like that person with the pistols, whom I hope Monsieur Andrew is
holding very hard. Why should I not lie to him?"

           
Dan
lunged, almost breaking free of Andrew's hold.
"Salaude!"

           
"What?"
said
Freddy.
Lady Granleigh stiffened in outrage, from
which Kim deduced that whatever Dan had said was disrespectful, if not actually
shocking. Stuggs and Jack Stower wore identical expressions of bafflement,
while Robert glanced warily at Renee. Andrew was plainly appalled, but Mairelon
seemed to be holding back a smile. St. Clair was watching everyone with an
expectant air, like a cat waiting for the right moment to pounce.

           
Renee
D'Auber raised an eyebrow, looking faintly puzzled.
"Pardon?
Your accent is not at all good, monsieur. If you wish for me to understand, you
should speak the English."

           
"I
think not," said St. Clair. "It might distress the ladies."

           
"You!"
Dan transferred his glare from Renee to the
Baron. "You won't get away with this!"

           
"With what?"
Lord St. Clair asked in a reasonable
tone.

           
"You're
not getting that platter! You've had everything else--the money, the title,
everything--just because you were born on the right side of the blanket, but
you're not getting this."

           
"That
remains to be seen," St. Clair said calmly.

           
"Does
it?" Mairelon said.
"By whom?"

           
"The
Sacred Dish is the property of the Sons of the New Dawn," Jonathan
repeated stubbornly. No one paid him any more attention this time than they had
the last.

           
"Richard,"
Andrew put in uneasily, "you're not going to keep that thing, are you? If
you're found with it--"

           
"--there
are at least thirteen people here who can say that I didn't have the smallest
idea where it was until Laverham there did his locating spell," Mairelon
interrupted. "I'm sure that at least one or two of them would be willing
to say as much in court. Don't be a fool, Andrew."

           
"Ah,
but you might have been acting," Lord St. Clair said with a cold smile.
"I think Mr. Merrill's point is well taken."

           
"You
would," Mairelon said.

           
"They
don't like each other much, do they?" Freddy commented sagely to Robert.

           
"Freddy?"
Marianne Thornley was coming around again, and the sound of her beloved's voice
had caught her attention. "Oh, Freddy, what has happened?"

           
"You
have behaved very badly," Lady Granleigh answered in a severe tone.
"We shall, however, discuss it later, in private. Jasper! We have wasted
enough time. Bring the platter out to the carriage at once. Come,
Marianne."

           
"You
aren't taking Marianne anywhere," Freddy said, stepping in front of the
shrinking Marianne.

           
"Nor
you the Saltash Platter," Mairelon said to Jasper.

           
"Amelia
. . ." Jasper said, waffling visibly.

           
"Really, Jasper!
You're larger than he is," said
Lady Granleigh over her shoulder. "Just take it."

           
"Allow
me to get out of the way first," said Lord St. Clair.

           
Kim
frowned as St. Clair moved farther away from the hearth where Mairelon,
Jonathan, and Jasper stood. She could understand a
gentry
cove not wanting to get involved in a turn-up, but St. Clair hadn't been close
enough to be inconvenienced by a fight. She watched as he crossed the room to
join Lady Granleigh, and saw him stumble as he passed a footstool. Her frown
deepened. Had he scooped something from the floor? She couldn't be sure; he had
turned away from her as he straightened.

           
The sound
of a scuffle distracted her. She turned in time to see Mairelon shove the
handle end of the Saltash Platter into Jasper Marston's stomach. Kim winced in
sympathy as Jasper doubled over with a huff of exhaled breath. Mairelon yanked
the platter back, grabbed the free handle, and brought it down on the back of
Jasper's head. There was a satisfying clang, and Jasper collapsed without
another sound.

           
"Very
impressive," St. Clair said without enthusiasm. Kim looked quickly back at
him, but his hands were empty; if he had picked anything up, he had hidden it
under his coat.

           
Mairelon
turned and flourished the platter in an elegant stage bow. "Would you care
to be the next to try to take it?"

           
"Richard!"
Andrew said, sounding horrified. "You can't go around assaulting peers of
the realm!"

           
"Oh,
really, Andrew, he's only a Baron," Mairelon said irritably.

           
Renee
D'Auber rolled her eyes. "It is not how it must be done," she
declared.

           
"And
giving St. Clair the Saltash Platter is?" Mairelon asked, his jaw
tightening.

           
"I
did not say such a thing at all," Renee said with dignity.

           
Lady
Granleigh turned, her attention momentarily diverted from Freddy and Marianne.
She raked Mairelon with a haughty look that had no apparent effect whatever,
and sniffed loudly. "Lord St. Clair seems an infinitely more proper person
to have charge of that object than you, Mr. de Mare, or whatever your name
is."

           
"Just
so," said St. Clair. "And after all, Mr. Merrill is a wanted man. I
wonder what the Bow Street Runners would make of this little
scene?
"

           
Mairelon's
lips thinned. Jack Stower lurched sideways, whimpering, in spite of William
Stuggs's grip on his arms and the cord Stuggs had knotted around his wrists,
dragging the two of them several feet nearer the door. Jonathan Aberford
shifted uncomfortably and ran a hand through his hair as if in search of the
stocking mask that had been taken from him in the carriage. Lady Granleigh
turned a shade paler and raised her chin imperiously.

           
"Oh,
no," Dan Laverham said softly. He was staring at Lord St. Clair with
single-minded intensity, and Kim had never heard so much hatred in anyone's
voice before. "Not this time, Gregory.
This time, if I
lose, you lose, too."

           
"You
had better think what you are saying," St. Clair replied, frowning.
"In any case, this is not a suitable place for that discussion."

           
"I
have thought," Dan said. "You lied to me before and tried to use me;
I won't make the same mistake again. You call the Runners in, Gregory, and I'll
tell them whose idea it was to nick that bloody platter, yes, and exactly how
it was arranged, too. Shall I tell this lot right now?"

           
"Please
do," Mairelon said.

           
"Don't
be absurd, Daniel," Lord St. Clair put in quickly. "No one will take
your word for anything."

           
"St.
Clair?" Andrew said. "You mean
St. Clair
stole the Saltash Set?
I don't believe it."

           
"There,
you see?" said the Baron.

           
"Not
so fast," Mairelon said. "I want to hear him out."

           
Robert
nodded. "Let him have his say."

           
"He's
a gutter-bred criminal!" St. Clair snapped. "I give you my word as a
peer of the realm--"

           
Dan's
high, half-hysterical laughter cut off whatever Lord St. Clair had planned to
say.
"Peer of the realm!
The only reason you're
the peer and I'm the gutter brat is that our blue-blooded father was too high
in the instep to marry a kitchen maid, though he wasn't above giving her a
tumble."

           
"Good
Lord," breathed Mairelon, looking from Dan to St. Clair. "So that's
it."

           
"This
discussion is highly improper," Lady Granleigh announced. "Marianne,
cover your ears. I recommend that you do the same, Miss D'Auber, though I am
well aware that French persons do not have any real delicacy of mind."

           
Everyone,
including Marianne, was too busy studying the two men to pay any attention to
Lady Granleigh. The resemblance between them was marked. Kim remembered how
shaken she had been by her first glimpse of Lord St. Clair, when she had
thought for a moment that he
was
Dan Laverham, and cursed herself
mentally for not guessing the truth before. But who would have pegged Dan for
gentry
blood, even on the wrong side of the blanket?

           
St. Clair
looked a trifle pale, but seemed otherwise unmoved by the intense scrutiny.
"This does not change matters at all," he said. "Your wild
accusations are clearly the delusions of a mind deranged by jealousy. I am very
sorry you have been subjected to this, Lady Granleigh, but I venture to hope
that you will not hold my father's indiscretion against me."

           
Dan
laughed again, bitterly. "Still wanting to have your cake and eat it, too,
Gregory? You were pleased enough with me as long as you could make use of my
services. You shouldn't have lied to me about the Saltash Set, though. If I'd
known it was magical, I'd never have split it up to sell."

           
"You
'ad this 'ere dish as all the fuss is over?" William Stuggs put in
unexpectedly.
" 'Ow
did that 'appen?"

           
"Fenton
was my man," Dan said, speaking directly to St. Clair. "He wouldn't
have dreamed of cracking a crib without cutting me in. You didn't know that
when you told him to keep mum about it, did you?"

           
"Be
quiet, Daniel," Lord St. Clair said.

           
"Why?
I told you, this time you're going to lose, one way or another."

           
"No."
St. Clair sounded regretful, almost sad. "You may make my life a little
difficult for a time, but even if everyone here believes you, it won't make any
real difference.
Bow Street
won't take the word of a criminal against that of a Baron, and without Fenton
you have no proof of anything you say. There will be rumors, of course, and one
or two houses may shut their doors to me for a time, but nothing more serious
than that. It's one of the advantages of my position, you see."

           
Dan
Laverham growled and lunged again. St. Clair stood quietly, smiling slightly as
Andrew and Robert fought Dan back under control.

           
"There,
you," Robert panted. "Now, before you continue, would one of you mind
explaining why that"--he waved a free hand at the Saltash Platter, then
had to grab Dan's arm again--"is so all-fired important? I'm getting tired
of not knowing what, exactly, is going on."

           
"It's
perfectly plain," Jonathan said. "The Sacred Dish--"

           
"Oh,
stop nattering about the Sacred Dish," Robert begged. "This is
serious, Jon."