Wrede, Patricia C - Mairelon 01 (28 page)

           
"Then
he didn't follow me at all!" Kim exclaimed, remembering how frightened she
had been by Jack's unexpected appearance at the inn in Ranton Hill.

           
"No,
but it was as well that you kept out of sight," Mairelon said. "Think
of the trouble we'd have had if Laverham had arrived a few days earlier than he
did."

           
Kim
shuddered.

           
"Richard,"
the Earl of Shoreham said. His tone was mild, but Mairelon sighed and returned
to his story.

           
"Just
to
thoroughly confuse matters, at about this time
Freddy Meredith lost the false platter to Henry Bramingham in a game of cards.
Henry knew that his uncle," Mairelon nodded at Gregory St. Clair,
"collected oddities of that sort and proposed to give it to him. That
brought St. Clair down to Ranton Hill posthaste and set off an interesting
round of burglaries at
Bramingham Place
.
Kim and I were privileged to observe most of the parade."

           
"What,
what?" said Mr. Bramingham.

           
"We
hid in your priest's hole," Mairelon explained.

           
"Priest's
hole
!" Kim said, disappointed. "Is that what
it was? I thought it was a spell."

           
"Bramingham
showed it to me last time I visited," Mairelon said. "Next time your
household is roused in the middle of the night, Bramingham, you should remember
to check inside it."

           
"Yes,
but what's this about burglaries?" Bramingham said. "Somebody broke
into the library a couple of nights ago, but--"

           
"Several
somebodies," Mairelon interrupted. "Actually, I believe Renee was the
first, but she recognized the platter for a fake and left it where it was. She
was long gone when Kim and I got there."

           
"I
knew I 'adn't ought to 'ave gone to
London
and left you 'ere with 'er," Hunch said.

           
"It
wasn't my idea!" Kim protested.

           
"I
didn't figure as it was," Hunch said dryly, and Kim blinked in surprise.
Then she grinned at him.

           
"We
were interrupted by Mr. Stower's arrival," Mairelon said with a quelling
look at Hunch. "Stower was interrupted in turn by Marston and Stuggs, who
were interrupted by Jonathan Aberford."

           
"Jonathan?"
Robert Choiniet said, startled. "Are you sure?"

           
"He
has a turn of phrase that is unmistakable," Mairelon answered.

           
"Have
you got maggots in your head?" Robert demanded, glaring at Jonathan.
"Or have you suddenly gotten as bacon-brained as Freddy Meredith? Why in
heaven's name would you try to burgle
Bramingham Place
?"

           
"I
thought it would work," Jonathan said sullenly.

           
"He
hadn't counted on the, er, competition," Mairelon said. "In the end,
Lady Granleigh managed to obtain the platter by as neat a trick as I've seen.
You might consider taking her on, Shoreham; she's got the nerves for it."

           
Lady
Granleigh looked as if she did not know whether to be pleased or insulted by
this remark, and Kim hid a smile.

           
"Lady
Granleigh quickly discovered that her platter was a forgery, which left her in
something of a dilemma. She couldn't return it to the Braminghams without
awkward explanations, but she didn't want to keep it, either. And Jonathan
Aberford was hanging about
Bramingham Place
and making a nuisance of
himself
; if Lady Granleigh
and her brother made any attempts to locate the real platter, Jonathan was sure
to notice. So she decided to give the forgery back to the druids and solve two
problems at once.

           
"Miss
D'Auber and I had agreed to meet this morning near here to compare what we had
each learned. She was delayed"--Mairelon gave Andrew a quick look, and
Andrew smiled wryly--"so I was here alone when Lady Granleigh and her
party arrived. I, ah, accepted the platter on Mr. Aberford's behalf."

           
"By what right?"
Jonathan demanded.

           
Mairelon
looked at him without answering. Stuggs made a peculiar noise that Kim
realized, after a moment, was a smothered chuckle. Jonathan turned very red and
subsided, muttering, and Mairelon turned back to the Earl of Shoreham and
continued his tale.

           
"Meanwhile,
Fenton was proceeding with his own plans. He gave or sold the second of his
fakes to Jack Stower and presumably made arrangements to meet with a couple of
other prospective customers." Mairelon glanced toward St. Clair, who did
not react. Jonathan Aberford, however, scowled and shifted uneasily. Mairelon
smiled. "Yes, I thought so."

           
"Get
on with it, Richard," the Earl said. He sounded amused but determined.

           
"You
have no sense of the dramatic, Shoreham," Mairelon complained.

           
"I
have as much as I need," the Earl replied in a dry voice.
"Though I will readily admit that I have not spent the last
few years on a stage.
No doubt it's a grave failing in my
education."

           
"No
doubt," Mairelon said, looking somewhat disgruntled. "Well, Stower
was on the point of returning to
London
with his platter when he spotted Hunch in Ranton Hill. He followed Hunch to our
camp and attempted to take the false platter we had collected; instead, he lost
his own and prompted me to head to
Bramingham Place
to find out what was going on.

           
"I
found more than I expected." Mairelon paused, staring at the far wall, and
something in his stance kept the others from commenting. Then he shook himself
and looked at Mr. Bramingham. "When you get back, you'd best send someone
down to the wood by the Long Avenue. There's a body and two more copies of the
Saltash Platter hidden there."

           
"Richard!"
said the Earl, his voice carrying clearly over the confused babble that broke
out among the rest of the listeners.
"Who?
What
happened?"

           
"The
body was the unfortunate and ambitious James Fenton," Mairelon answered.
"As to what happened, I can only speculate; Kim and I heard the shot, but
we didn't get a look at the man who fired it."

           
"Speculate,
then!"

           
"I
think Fenton had arranged to meet someone in the Long Avenue. Two someones,
actually; he couldn't very well have sold both fakes to the same person. I
think he miscalculated badly--remember
,
he didn't know
that a magician could easily tell the difference between his forgeries and the
real platter. So when he tried to pass off one of the fakes, St. Clair shot
him."

           
"Unlikely,"
Lord St. Clair said into the horrified silence that followed.

           
"Not
at all," Mairelon said with exaggerated politeness. "You, Laverham,
and Aberford there are the most logical people for Fenton to pick as possible
customers for his remaining forgeries. Laverham, or rather, Laverham's man
Stower, already had a platter. Aberford would clearly do a lot to get his hands
on his, er, Sacred Dish, but I doubt he'd commit murder. Besides, if he'd
killed Fenton, he wouldn't have held up Laverham's coach half an hour later,
looking for the platter."

           
Jonathan
jerked. "How did you know
--
"

           
"It's
the only reason you've done anything for the past week," Mairelon said.
"You were supposed to meet Fenton, too, weren't you? How did you find out
that he was hoping to sell the platter to someone else?"

           
"I
heard him bragging about it at the inn," Jonathan said sullenly. "I
didn't kill anyone!"

           
"Yes,
I know," Mairelon said. "You thought you'd save yourself some time and
trouble, not to mention money, and hold up the coach instead of paying
Fenton."

           
"This
is all speculation," St. Clair said. He acted as if he were calm enough,
but there were small lines of tension at the corners of his eyes, and a muscle
in his jaw twitched now and again when he was not speaking.

           
"Not
entirely," Mairelon told him. "A moment ago, you told Laverham and
Stuggs that they couldn't prove anything against you without Fenton, but no one
has mentioned Mr. Fenton's unfortunate demise until now. If you didn't kill
him, how did you know?"

           
"I
was not referring to this Fenton's death," Lord St. Clair said coldly.
"I merely meant that no one knew where he was."

           
"Convince
the Runners of that." Mairelon nodded at Stuggs.

           
"You
were the man he was to meet!" Jonathan said suddenly, staring intently at
St. Clair. "You were the one to whom he would have sold the Sacred
Dish!"

           
Robert
Choiniet rolled his eyes. Lady Granleigh looked shocked. The Earl of Shoreham
frowned. "How do you know?" he demanded.

           
"He
was at the inn; I saw him hanging about while I was . . . following
Fenton."

           
"Hardly
convincing," St. Clair said.

           
"I
doubt that the Runners will have any trouble finding proof, one way or
another," Mairelon said.

           
"Now
that they're looking at the right man," Andrew muttered.

           
"In
any case: St. Clair shot Fenton, but Kim and I interrupted him. Laverham and
Stower interrupted us and brought us here. I presume St. Clair followed us.
Fenton had hidden the platter under the hearth; we found it and had a small disagreement
over its ownership. I expect Stuggs can tell you the rest; he was here for most
of it. And that's all."

           
It wasn't
all by a long shot. Everyone wanted a chance to object, explain, or ask
questions, and it took
all the
Earl's considerable force
of character to keep them more or less under control. Mairelon was no help
whatever; he took immediate advantage of the commotion to dodge past Hunch and
corner Lord Granleigh, whom he began cross-questioning about recent magical
developments at the Royal College of Wizards.

           
After a
few minutes of chaos, Stuggs brought the confusion to a halt by pointing out
that he ought to take his prisoners into town and make arrangements for them to
be transported to
London
.

           
"There's
another one asleep on the box of the coach outside," Mairelon said,
turning his head. "I don't know what he's done, but I'm quite sure it's
something nasty."

           
Stuggs
frowned.
" 'E
ain't a wizard, too, is 'e?"

           
"What,
driving a coach?" Jonathan said scornfully.

           
"No,
he's just another of Laverham's crew," Mairelon said. "Unpleasant
enough, but quite ordinary so far as his skills are concerned."

           
"Still,
that makes four of them," Shoreham said. "
Which is
a bit much to expect one man, however competent, to handle alone.
"

           
"Well,
I could go along as far as the town," Mr. Bramingham offered. "It's
not much out of my way, you know. I can't stop there, though; my wife will be
waiting to hear what's happened."

           
"And
to spread it over as much of the county as she can reach," Mairelon
murmured. "I'm afraid St. Clair is going to be a social outcast no matter
how the trial turns out."

           
"I
should think so," Lady Granleigh sniffed. "His behavior to me, and to
poor Marianne, has been simply unpardonable. If it hadn't been for him,
Marianne would not have run off as she did."

           
Everyone
looked at Lady Granleigh in patent disbelief, including Jasper. Lady Granleigh
stared haughtily down her nose at the lot of them. "Pointing that pistol
at poor Marianne clearly disordered her intellect. I am quite confident that,
had you behaved as a gentleman ought, wiser counsels would have prevailed, and
she would not have dashed off to be married in such a hole-in-the-corner
fashion."

           
"I
congratulate you, Lady Granleigh," Lord St. Clair said after a moment.
"I have never before met anyone with so great a talent for seeing the
world as she wishes it to be."

           
Lady
Granleigh stared through the space occupied by Lord St. Clair as if he were not
there, then turned to her brother. "Come, Jasper, it is time we were
going."

           
"Time
and past," Kim muttered. Mairelon glanced sharply in her direction, but no
one else seemed to hear.

           
"I'll
accompany you, my dear," Lord Granleigh said in a tone that brooked no
argument. "Bramingham's right, we should be getting back."

           
Lady
Granleigh did not look at all pleased by this development (nor did Jasper), but
they had no choice but to go along. Kim wondered whether Lord Granleigh would
give them both a dressing-down in the carriage. She hoped so; the bracket-faced
mort deserved a tongue-lashing and then some for the way she'd been mucking
about in everyone else's
affairs,
and Jasper was no
better.

           
"Now,
then, Stuggs," Lord Shoreham said when the Granleighs were safely out the
door. "You'll want someone besides Bramingham to help with the prisoners,
I think. No sense in taking chances."

           
"We'd
be happy to help, sir," Robert Choiniet volunteered. "That is, if you
think we'd be useful." He nudged Jonathan with his elbow.

           
"Happy?"
Jonathan said bitterly. "Oh, yes, of course, certainly. The Sacred Dish is
gone for good, the lodge is in ruins, and the Sons of the New Dawn will be a
laughingstock. Naturally we're happy."

           
Mairelon
looked at him. "I hardly think one broken window, a displaced hearthstone,
and a couple of overturned chairs constitute being in ruins."

           
"Yes,
we've done more damage ourselves on a good night," Robert agreed. "Do
stop playacting, Jon."

           
"Playacting?
Playacting?
You
don't seem to realize how serious this is! We
need
to consecrate the
Sacred Dish before we can make any more progress in the Mysteries."

           
Robert
rolled his eyes and Mairelon hid a smile. Kim felt sorry for Jonathan. She knew
what it was like to lose something she'd depended on having, even if she didn't
know anything about druids or magic. And after all, it wasn't
his
fault
he'd gotten hold of the Saltash Platter instead of some ordinary silver tray
that no one else would have cared about. A thought occurred to her, and she
said suddenly, "Why'd you pick the Saltash Platter for your Sacred Dish? I
mean, would any old wicher cheat do, or does it have to be this particular
one?"

           
"It
was perfect," Jonathan said sullenly. "It's exactly the right
dimensions, and the pattern has the proper balance of natural form and abstract
design. It took me two years of hunting to find it, and it had to be
stolen!"

           
"Well,
if all you need is something that size and shape, can't you use one of the fake
platters?
There's
enough of 'em around."

           
Everyone
looked at Kim, and she flushed. "It was just an idea."

           
"And
a very good one," Mairelon said. "One of the false platters should
suit you admirably, Aberford. Better than the real thing, in fact; you won't
have to worry about your spells getting tangled up with the ones that are
already in the Saltash Platter and exploding, or doing something equally
unexpected."

           
Jonathan,
who had opened his mouth, closed it again, looking suddenly very thoughtful.
The Earl of Shoreham's lips
twitched,
and Renee
D'Auber put up a hand to hide a smile. Andrew only looked bewildered, and St.
Clair and the other prisoners studiously ignored the exchange.

           
"I
doubt that there will be any fuss over ownership of one of the duplicates,
either," Mairelon added.

           
"I
think I can guarantee that no official questions will be asked," Shoreham
put in. "Provided there is no fuss made at this end, of course. I should
warn you, though, that I can't do a thing about gossip." He glanced in the
direction of the door, where Lady Granleigh and her party had long since
vanished.

           
"Gossip
won't do anything but increase our membership," Robert commented. "We
might even get a couple of fellows who'll pay their subscription fees. That
would please Austen no end."

           
"Yes,
wouldn't it?" Jonathan said, failing to sound anything like as offhanded
as he plainly wanted to. "Very well, we'll do it."

           
"Good.
I have two at my wagon; you can come by this evening and pick one up,"
Mairelon said. "It's just down the road, on the left-hand side as you head
toward the village."

           
"This evening?
But I thought--"

           
"I
have a few things still to do here," Mairelon interrupted, "and it
won't be convenient for you to wait. Trust me."

           
"
Yes,
and your mother was in an awful taking when I left,
Jon," Robert put in. "God knows what she's like by now. She'll have
half the
county out hunting for you if you don't get home
soon, depend
on it."

           
"Oh,
very well," Jonathan said ungraciously. He swirled his cloak unnecessarily
and stalked to the door of the lodge. "I shall wait upon you this
evening," he told Mairelon in portentous tones, and left.

           
"Silly
young chub," Mairelon said, but not loudly enough to be heard outside.

           
Andrew
frowned. "Wait a minute. Didn't somebody say his horse ran off? How is he
planning to get home, wherever home is?"

           
"Oh,
Jon never plans anything," Robert said in a resigned tone.
"Except ceremonies.
He'll probably take my horse. I
think I had better come along with you and Bramingham, after all, Mr. Stuggs. I
can stop in the village for as long as you need help with that lot, and then
borrow a horse to get home on."

           
Stuggs
nodded and handed him a pistol.
"Right, then.
Move along, now, you lot."

           
"I
think I'd best go with them, at least as far as the coach," the Earl of
Shoreham said to Mairelon as St. Clair, Jack Stower, and Dan Laverham started
toward the door, flanked by Robert and Mr. Bramingham. "Two of them are
wizards, after all, and it wouldn't do for them to take advantage, so to
speak."

           
"You
always were a cautious one," Mairelon told him. "Shall I come and
help?"

           
"No,
no, you've done enough already," Shoreham replied quickly. "And it'll
only take a moment. You stay here." He followed Bramingham, who was
bringing up the end of Stuggs's little procession, out the door.

           
Mairelon
gazed after him with an abstracted air. "Now, do you suppose he was being
subtle, tactful, or merely cowardly?" he asked the window Laverham had
broken.

           
" 'E's
a-doing of 'is job," Hunch said.
"Which you ought to 'ave been, too, instead of breaking into
'ouses and things while I was gone."

           
"That
was
my job," Mairelon pointed out. "Or part of doing it,
anyway, which comes to the same thing."

           
"You
might 'ave got shot," Hunch said doggedly.

           
"Yes,
well, I didn't, so there's no need to go on about it, especially since the main
reason you're so nattered about it is that you missed out on the fun."

           
"Nattered
about it?" said Andrew in a puzzled tone.

           
"It's
one of Kim's expressions," Mairelon said.
"Very
descriptive."
He paused, looking at Andrew, and Hunch closed his
mouth on whatever further comment he had been about to make. "It's good to
see you again, Andrew," Mairelon said after what seemed a very long time.

           
"It's
good to see you, too, Richard," Andrew answered in a low voice. "For
a while I . . . wasn't sure I was going to."

           
"What?
You haven't been listening to Hunch, have you? That business on the
Peninsula
wasn't anything like as serious as he claims."

           
"I
can see that Hunch and I are going to have to have a long talk," Andrew
said with a crooked smile. "But that wasn't what I meant."

           
"Yes,
well, actually I know that, but it doesn't matter," Mairelon said quickly.

           
"It
matters to me," Andrew persisted. He took a deep breath and went on,
"I misjudged you very badly five years ago, and I want to tell you that I
know it now, and I'm sorry."

           
Renee
D'Auber gave a small nod of satisfaction, and a slow grin began to spread
across Hunch's face. Kim felt like cheering, but she didn't dare. She was
almost afraid to breathe, for fear someone would notice, and remember she was
there, and make her leave.

           
"All
right," Mairelon said gently, his eyes on Andrew's face. "You've told
me. Apology accepted. Can we leave it at that?"

           
"You
mean I--you'll--that's all?"

           
"Really,
Andrew, were you expecting me to demand satisfaction?" Mairelon said in
the mildly exasperated tone he used with Hunch and Kim. "A pretty thing
that would be; you are my brother, after all, not to mention that dueling's
illegal. Or did you think I'd throw a fit of temper? I could turn you into a
frog for a few minutes, if it would make you feel better, but I'd really rather
not. It's the devil of a nuisance to measure out all the ingredients for the
powder, and I can never remember the proper endings for the verbs."

           
Andrew
laughed. "I--well, thank you, Richard. Will you be coming home now?"

           
The words
were a question, but his tone made it clear that he expected Mairelon to answer
yes. Kim's heart lurched as she realized just how inevitable that yes was, and
how much it would mean. The Mairelon she knew was an act, a trick to fool the
Runners, and the trick was no longer necessary. He would become Richard Merrill
again, and go back to a
gentry
life she could hardly
imagine. She tried to be glad, but all she could think was that there would be
no place in that life for her. She wrapped her arms around herself and hugged
hard. At least she had the five pounds Jasper Marston had paid her, and the
clothes Mairelon had bought. Maybe Mairelon or Shoreham would give her a few
guineas more for her help with Laverham. It was as much as she had wanted when
she got into this; she couldn't help it if her wants had changed somehow since
then.