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Bloody hell! Philip had waited an hour and then cooled his heels for another half an hour, and his temper grew as his patience dwindled. He’d trusted her to meet him.
In truth, he was surprised, given their last encounter, that Beryl had let him down. She seemed to understand the importance of the necklace and of his returning it to Buckingham Palace, which was only ten minutes as the crow flies at the opposite end of St. James’s Park.
Apparently, she’d only been teasing him about giving it back.
Fuming, tired of looking at the ugly pelicans, which Leo found utterly mesmerizing, even more annoyed by the happy families coming to see them, Philip finally returned to his carriage.
Now what?
It was broad daylight so he couldn’t return to her room and confront her. However, he also refused to wait until nightfall. Philip decided to settle on the civilized hour of three o’clock, when visitors sometimes appeared unannounced. Too late for lunch, too early for dinner, unexpected guests couldn’t be accused of dropping in for a free meal.
At the stroke of three, he knocked on Lord Angsley’s front door, grumbling a little to himself. She had better be home and she had better be prepared to see him.
When a sweating, harried butler came into view — sweat on an unflappable London butler’s temple! — Philip knew something was terribly wrong.
Before he could announce himself, the man opened wide the door, revealing chaos. A maid was weeping by a potted fern. Next to her, a youngster was doing the same. A policeman paced the marble floor, and loud voices could be heard from a room to the left.
Suddenly, that door opened, and a woman, obviously Beryl’s mother by the resemblance, came running out, sobbing into a handkerchief and disappeared up the stairs, followed by another maid who was plainly trying to console her.
Philip’s heartbeat quickened as he stepped inside. When out of the same room came a constable, followed by Lord Angsley, who was followed in turn by his nephew, the Earl of Cambrey, whom Philip had met once before a few years prior, he could see why the butler was sweating. Trouble was afoot.
The policeman stopped pacing and every eye turned to Philip standing in the foyer, feeling as out of place as a mizzenmast in the middle of the House of Lords.
“What has happened?” he asked, his gut telling him the answer before her father did, for the one person he’d come to see was not evident.
“My daughter is missing.”
At his words, the maid cried harder.
But it was the Earl of Cambrey who approached him, his gaze fixed on his.
“What are you doing here? What part do you play in this?”
Two reasonable questions which deserved answers.
Before Philip could begin to figure out what to say, Lord Angsley spoke up, “He is the ship’s captain who rescued Beryl from the Chinese pirates.”
The earl’s glance didn’t waver. “He is also the brother of the man who died crashing his vehicle into mine.”
“What?” Lord Angsley exclaimed.
“Extraordinary,” muttered the constable.
Christ!
“That’s hardly important now,” Philip pointed out. “What has happened to Beryl?”
“Beryl, is it?” Cambrey asked, scowling. “You call my cousin by her first name. You didn’t answer my questions.”
Philip’s mind was whirling, yet he kept coming up with the same thought: Chui-A-poo.
“Are you involved in this, Captain?” her father asked, his expression grim.
“In a way, I suppose I am. I’m here because your daughter took something from my cabin, something very valuable. She was supposed to meet me today to return it. When she didn’t, I came here.”
“I see,” Lord Angsley said, sounding defeated.
The constable clucked in disapproval.
“Well, I don’t bloody see,” the earl intoned, his voice harsh and accusing. “Why would she take something from you, and how did you arrange to meet her? And why would that make her disappear?”
Lady Angsley had reappeared at the top of the stairs, and her sobbing joined that of the maids.
“May we retire to your parlor?” Philip asked.
The constable looked at Lord Angsley, who looked at Lord Cambrey, who nodded and turned on his heel. Philip drew a deep breath and followed them. He’d rather hoped Lady Angsley with her tragic sobbing, which only increased his abject dread for Beryl’s safety, would remain upstairs. Instead, she hurried down and trailed in behind them, thankfully without the crying maid or child.
Succinctly, Philip explained about his mission for the queen and how Beryl assumed he was a pirate and thus liberated the jewels from his cabin. Even more briefly, he said she’d agreed to meet him to return the necklace.
No need to mention scaling the outside of the house like a ship’s mast.
“A necklace?” her father said. “I suppose that has something to do with why this was left on our doorstep.” He drew from his pocket the gold chain with the green stone, which Philip had last seen in Chui-A-poo’s hands.
He felt the blood drain from his head as the man passed it over to him.
“I hadn’t seen it since we were in the Orient,” her father added.
“I last saw it in the pirate leader’s hands,” Philip admitted. “He — or most likely, his men — have abducted her.”
He said the words calmly, knowing in his gut Chui had sent men halfway around the world to reclaim at least one treasure. Or perhaps both.
The Earl of Cambrey made an exasperated sound. “I’ve had about enough of you and your family! You got her caught up in this mess.”
Philip could see it from the other man’s point of view, but he was wrong.
“Beryl’s traipsing across China is what attracted Chui-A-poo, the pirate. To him, she is an exotic western beauty. He wants her for his wife.”
Lady Angsley cried out in denial.
“However, he also wants the Duchess of Sutherland’s necklace, which, as I said, I had in my possession and Beryl took. Do you have any idea where it is?” Philip asked her father.
Lord Angsley shook his head.
“Did they take her directly from your home?” Philip asked, wondering if anyone had seen how he’d entered from the back alley and had done the same.
“No, Captain,” said Lady Angsley, speaking her first coherent words. “My daughter went to visit her friend Miss Blackwood this morning. Our driver dropped her off. When he went back for her, he found out she’d never made it inside her destination.”
She hiccupped back another sob.
Philip could only imagine how her mother would have reacted had she been in Stanley when Beryl was kidnapped the first time.
“Was there anything else on your doorstep?” Philip asked. There had to be a message as to how Chui-A-poo wanted the necklace delivered.
“Beryl’s necklace was wrapped in white silk.” Lord Angsley’s voice was rough with emotion, and he shared a private glance with Philip, both men understanding China — one as a diplomat, one as a privateer. The use of the somber, threatening white, indicating purity and death, was no accident.
“He doesn’t want her hurt,” Philip assured her parents.
Though Chui-A-poo might want the necklace more than he needed another wife, in which case—
“There was also this, tied to her necklace.” Her father handed a piece of rice paper to Philip. “It made no sense until you told us she has the duchess’s necklace in her possession. My nephew had it translated on the docks by midday,” he added, nodding toward the earl.
Philip studied it. Underneath words in Peking dialect, written in a wavering script, it read, “Captain bring pearl necklace to ship. Dawn.”
“I suppose you are the captain they refer to,” the Earl of Cambrey said, his tone beyond irritated.
Philip nodded slowly. “And I suppose I am to meet the kidnappers on my ship.” With the candlestick and the cat for support!
“Perhaps we can all hide on board, overpower them, and get my daughter back,” Lord Angsley suggested.
The constable made a scoffing sound. “I can send policemen to the captain’s vessel,” he suggested.
Philip narrowed his eyes and tapped his chin. “I cannot imagine they will bring her to my ship. She’s hidden somewhere, probably Pennyfields or Limehouse Causeway,” he said, thinking of the two dockside areas with the largest populations of Chinese.
“How will we ever find her?” Lady Angsley asked, standing and wrapping her arms around herself for comfort.
The earl had been silent throughout their exchange. “I believe I can locate her.”
They all looked at him. “There is one thing that motivates most people,” Cambrey declared. “Money. Luckily, I have a lot of it. Moreover, I have some experience with a substance the Chinese both love and loathe — opium.”
At their continued stares, the earl shrugged. “Excuse the vulgar discussion, Auntie,” he said to Lady Angsley. “But you all know the wealth to be had over the opium trade. Some Chinese are bitter at how the British seem to be making the lion’s share. They are even angrier at their own coastal pirates helping the English merchants smuggle opium inland against their government’s wishes. Basically, the pirates are betraying their countrymen for coin.”
“And you know some of these bitter Chinese in London?” Philip asked.
Who would have thought the Earl of Cambrey, priggishly outraged by Philip using Beryl’s first name, was familiar with the seedier side of the opium trade?
“I do,” the earl acknowledged. “They also make fine silk, of which my wife is very fond. The money I used to spend on opium, I now spend on what pleases my countess. In any case, the communities are comparatively small. If an English woman has been kidnapped by Chinese pirates and is being held, I can guarantee you half of the Chinamen at the docks know about it already.”
“Regardless,” Lord Angsley pointed out, “it seems we need the necklace. Either to trade or as insurance.”
“I will leave that to you,” Cambrey said and headed for the door. “After all, he’s practically a pirate.” He gestured at Philip. “Finding treasure is his forte. He found the necklace once. I’m sure he can do it again. And I’ll do my best to discover my cousin’s whereabouts. Constable, I suppose you may come with me as there is little for you to do here.”
In their wake, those who were left, looked grim-faced at one another.
It didn’t sit well with Philip to have the Earl of Cambrey out searching for Beryl while he stayed behind. Recalling the moment he’d burst into the pirate captain’s cabin and discovered her the first time, looking beautiful and afraid, he longed to rescue her again. Maybe it was the code he’d discussed with Rufus — saving her life made him feel responsible for her forever.
Rubbish! He loved her!
To wipe away any traces of fear and to kiss her until she smiled again, those were the thoughts distracting him from caring about recovering the duchess’s necklace.
That he might never see Beryl again was unthinkable.
“Her bedroom is the best place to search,” her mother offered.
Would he be invited abovestairs to help?
“I’ll show you the way,” she added.
Apparently, he was. Following her mother upstairs, her father trailing behind, Philip considered the last time he was in her room. He’d had the distinct feeling she had kept the necklace there with her.
Then her words came back to him. I learned about hiding things from my experience on your ship.
“Does she have a trunk or a chest?” Philip asked, as they entered her bedroom.
Her mother shook her head, surveying the empty chamber and looking as though she might start crying again.
“No. She thinks such a thing at the end of the bed clutters the room.”
For his part, Philip couldn’t even look at the bed, not without picturing her laid bare before him, passionate, desirable, satiated. A lump formed in his throat.
Then, they began to search.
Glancing around, he spied the tall wardrobe and thought of his hiding place for brandy. In two strides, he yanked the doors open, confronted with her gowns. Pushing them aside as best he could, breathing in her familiar floral scent, he felt around at the back. But he’d had a shelf in his wardrobe. Hers was full length and overflowing with dresses. Moreover, he couldn’t even see the bottom of it.
And she worried about the clutter of a trunk?
Ignoring her parents who were searching elsewhere, her mother going through her chest of drawers and her father looking over and under furniture, he began pulling out her gowns and tossing them to the floor beside him. When her wardrobe was empty, he was on his hands and knees, feeling around among the dropped ribbons and lace fichus, a misplaced dancing slipper and a few silk stockings, finding nothing.
While her mother rehung the gowns, Philip spent another hour helping her father to roll back the carpet, then to look behind the drapes, and even tore her bed apart. Still, no necklace. Then Lady Angsley began to search inside each of her daughter’s shoes, and her father wondered aloud if they would need to search the entire house, which would take more time than they had.
Running his hands through his hair, Philip considered how she’d taken the necklace off his ship. She’d had nothing but—
The gown!
Soon, he was rummaging through her clothing again, pushing aside brocade and cotton, satin and silk.
“Captain, what on earth—?” her mother began.
“I’ve found it!” Philip said in triumph.
“The necklace?” her father asked.
“The gown she was wearing on my ship. I bought it for her myself.”
Standing up, he hefted its weight, feeling how the hem pulled down beyond the heaviness of the pale green silk skirt.
“I think the necklace is here. It’s sewn into the hem.”
Sliding a knife out of his boot — catching her father’s surprised expression — Philip slit the stitches open. The necklace was suddenly cast upon the Persian carpet, a cascade of diamonds, rubies, and distinctly gray pearls.
Her mother gasped.
Tossing the gown aside, Philip bent to pick it up, holding it before their eyes. Her father whistled at the fine craftmanship and beauty.
“I can see why everyone wants it,” he said. “But it’s nothing compared to my Beryl.”
“Agreed!” Philip dropped it into his coat pocket. “We don’t have long before the sun sets. When we get Beryl back, we still need to dispatch the pirates. If we let them stay, they will only kidnap her again or try to.”
Her father was already walking toward the door. “I appreciate your firm belief we will get her back.”
Philip swallowed. “The alternative, my lord, is unthinkable.”
Lord Angsley led the way downstairs, back into the parlor where, so much like her daughter, Lady Angsley requested tea, and Philip told them how Beryl had demanded tea, sitting on the deck of his ship in the sunshine.
Her mother gave him a watery smile.
“We have only two choices,” her father stated. “We can capture these pirates so this Chui person never hears from them again. Hopefully, he will give up when his men do not return. Or we can kill them.”
Philip considered the tenaciousness of Chui-A-poo, sending a ship all the way to England.
“I don’t think he will admit defeat if he hears nothing. He might assume they never reached Britain. I believe he would try again, and we would never know when his men might appear. Even if we kill them, he will still send more. He has an endless supply in his fleet, I assure you.”
Lord Angsley rubbed his temples. “Then what do you suggest?”
“Truly, I believe you should ask the queen to send men to China to kill him or, at the very least, to request the Qing government help capture him.”
Then, Philip had another idea. “Or, since we’re dealing with pirates, I suppose we could take the measure of his men and see if they will turn mutineer for a generous fee. For enough coin, they might return to China and capture their leader. They could get a reward from us and hand him over to the British on Hong Kong Island for another handsome bounty.”
Lord Angsley steepled his fingers.
“I will consider what you say. As a diplomat, I cannot ask our queen to order his assassination, but paying his own men to turn on him, that’s another story.”
Philip nodded. “They are pirates after all, and it’s the way of pirates to shift allegiance like the sands move with the tides. First, we have to meet with them.”
“And we can’t do so,” her father pondered, “until Beryl is safe.”
A man of action, Lord Angsley penned a letter to the foreign affairs secretary, notifying him of his daughter’s kidnapping and suggesting, as Philip had said, that the queen consider some action toward the pirate leader known as Chui-A-poo.
Sealing this, he gave it to the policeman who still uselessly patrolled the foyer, sending him at once to the Houses of Parliament.
“I should send word to Lord Wharton,” Lady Angsley said, exchanging a glance with her husband.
“Beryl’s fiancé,” her father clarified, though Philip had recalled the name immediately.
What that sallow, namby-pamby gentleman could do to help the situation was beyond him. However, if she were his, Philip would certainly want to know she was in danger. Thus, he sat idly by as Lady Angsley penned a note to Beryl’s beloved and sent it off with the red-nosed maid who managed to dry her eyes enough to do her mistress’s bidding.
Unfortunately, there was nothing more they could do except wait for word from the Earl of Cambrey, knowing all the while, even if they hadn’t found her, Philip would go to his ship at first light and meet the pirates.
Without Beryl, he would have no choice but to hand the necklace over. And then, they might lose both treasures.
Finally, close to sunset, a noise in the hallway heralded Lord Cambrey’s return. Philip was on his feet even before the parlor door was thrust open.
“Any news?” Lord Angsley asked his nephew.
The earl grinned. “I’ve found her!”