“In what way, sir?” asked Jack mildly, standing up at the magistrate’s approach.
“That attack on the coach,” said Sir Humphrey, so intent on his train of thought that he’d barely registered Charity’s presence. “Didn’t occur to me before, but damned risky business! And for what? To save a stuttering idiot! And why? That’s what I’d like to know. You don’t want to believe any of that nonsense about honour among thieves,” he added, glaring at Jack belligerently.
“I don’t,” said Jack.
“No, well…quite,” said Sir Humphrey. He’d been about to argue the point, and now he was feeling somewhat disconcerted.
“But what do you think we should make of it?” asked Jack.
Charity glanced at him doubtfully. She was afraid Jack was making fun of the squire and she didn’t approve of it. But there was nothing in Jack’s expression or in his tone of voice to suggest he was secretly mocking Sir Humphrey, and in fact he was simply curious to hear the magistrate’s opinion.
“I don’t know,” Sir Humphrey replied honestly. “It doesn’t make sense to me. Nothing that idiot said made sense. But the hold-up isn’t the only odd thing. There are the two break-ins as well. Thieves don’t usually go back to the same place twice—not in my experience, at any rate. And I think we can assume that the man who rescued our prisoner was one of the thieves from last night.”
Jack nodded. Sir Humphrey’s summing up of the situation might be slightly disjointed, but it was far from inaccurate. On the whole, Jack was inclined to think that the magistrate deserved to know the truth—as far as he and Charity knew it themselves—but he was reluctant to say anything without Charity’s agreement.
He glanced at her, a question in his eyes, and when she nodded imperceptibly he said to Sir Humphrey, “We think there may be a great deal more to the affair than just a simple burglary.”
“You mean, you know something?” Sir Humphrey demanded. “What do you know?”
“Nothing very concrete,” Charity intervened suddenly.
She was prepared to tell the magistrate about Jack’s original suspicions, but she still didn’t want him to know that they’d actually found the pendant. She couldn’t overcome the belief that Jack would be in danger if anyone knew the jewel was in his possession, and she wasn’t prepared to let anyone else in on that secret.
“Well, come on! Come on! Either you know something or you don’t,” Sir Humphrey said, looking from one to the other impatiently.
“Perhaps, since Miss Mayfield is so closely involved, it would be better if she explained,” Jack replied, his relaxed expression belied by the intent look in his eyes as they rested on Charity’s face.
He wasn’t quite sure why she was equivocating, but he had every faith in her good sense, and he had no objection to following her lead—at least until he knew what was in her mind.
“Well?” Sir Humphrey stared at her.
“We didn’t say anything at first because it seemed such a foolish idea,” Charity said composedly. “But when Lord Riversleigh questioned the thief last night the man said certain things that seemed to suggest he was looking for treasure—and in our library!”
“Well! I’ll be damned!” said Sir Humphrey after a moment. “Treasure, you say? In the library! Good God!”
“Lord Riversleigh mentioned the matter to me,” Charity continued when Sir Humphrey seemed to have recovered from his initial astonishment. “And of course I said the whole thing was nonsense. But…” she paused ruefully “…we were talking about it just now before you came in and, if it’s true—that they really believe there’s treasure in our library, I mean—it might help to explain what’s happened. The return of the thieves to the same place, and the desperate rescue of the captured man. The first man might have been afraid in case the prisoner gave any information away, so he wanted to rescue him before he could talk.”
“But good God! Treasure in your library!” Sir Humphrey wasn’t really listening to her any more; he was still trying to grapple with the outlandish suggestion about treasure.
“The important point is not whether there is any treasure, but whether the thieves believe there is,” Jack said smoothly.
It was now clear to him that Charity wanted to conceal the discovery of the pendant and, although he hadn’t guessed her true reason for doing so, he was inclined to think it was a good idea.
The callous attack on Owen had made Jack more determined than ever to catch the master thief, and the thief would be far more likely to make a third attempt on the library if he didn’t know the pendant had been found. It wasn’t that Jack didn’t trust Sir Humphrey, it was just that the fewer people who knew, the less likely the information was to leak out.
“Yes, you’re quite right, of course,” said Sir Humphrey. “But what an incredible notion. I wonder where they can have got it from?”
“I’m rather curious about that myself,” Jack admitted.
“Most unaccountable—treasure, indeed,” said Sir Humphrey. “We’re not used to all this excitement, are we, Charity?”
“No, sir,” Charity smiled at him. “Actually, I think I could do with a great deal less.”
“So could I.” The magistrate’s smile faded. “When I saw Owen…” His words trailed away and his expression clouded as he remembered the painful events of the morning.
He had submerged his grief and worry in a flurry of magisterial activity, and then his attention had been diverted by his sudden suspicion that there was something odd about the whole affair—but beneath his impatience and his bluster there was genuine fear and concern for his son.
“Owen’s very strong,” said Charity gently, taking the magistrate’s hand. “And nothing vital was hit. You know the doctor said it won’t be long before he gets his strength back. Please don’t worry.”
Sir Humphrey blinked, and then focused his gaze on her face.
“You’re a good girl,” he said, patting her hand. “I haven’t thanked you yet, m’dear, and I know you saved him. I wasn’t much help to you. But it shook me, do you see? I wasn’t expecting it, and when I saw him lying there…” He stopped and dashed a hand across his eyes.
He was still standing—somehow it hadn’t occurred to him yet to sit down, or to invite Jack to do so—and now Charity stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.
“Owen’s safe now,” she said. “And Lady Leydon will make sure he gets better quickly. Everything will soon be back to normal.”
“I hope so.” Sir Humphrey sighed. “Well,” he continued more briskly, “what are we going to do about catching the scoundrels? My dear…” it suddenly occurred to him that he’d shown remarkably little consideration for Charity’s sensibilities “…don’t you think you ought to go and lie down? After all you’ve been through, I wouldn’t like to cause you any more distress.”
“I think it would probably be a good idea if Miss Mayfield stayed,” Jack said quickly before Charity could reply. “After all, it is her family home that seems to be at the heart of the puzzle. If you feel up to it,” he added blandly to Charity.
“Certainly.” She returned his quizzical look with dignity.
“Of course she’s up to it,” said Sir Humphrey in-consistently, but with great good humour. “I’ve never yet known Charity overset by anything.”
“Thank you,” she replied, slightly overwhelmed by this tribute.
“Good,” said Jack firmly, and in what he hoped was a decisive manner. He could see that unless they were careful they were going to end up completely side-tracked from the main issue. “But to return to the matter in hand…”
“Catching the thieves,” said Sir Humphrey. “I have a piece of information which may be helpful. Apparently one of the thieves—the prisoner, I think—was shot while they were riding away. That should make it easier to find them. A wounded man is harder to hide than a fit one. I don’t know who shot him,” he added, frowning. “When I questioned them the men were quite clear that one of the villains had been wounded, but none of them seemed to know who had fired the shot. Most odd. It certainly wasn’t me. I would have remembered.”
Jack didn’t say anything. He hadn’t given the men any instructions to keep quiet on the subject and he suspected that either they’d simply found the idea of Charity firing the pistol too remarkable to be believable—or else they’d decided not to say anything to protect her from embarrassment. They all knew her and it was quite likely that they didn’t want to make trouble for her.
“It was me,” said Charity awkwardly, after a brief pause.
“You?” Sir Humphrey looked at her incredulously.
“I was angry.” She looked at him anxiously. She still hadn’t quite come to terms with what she had done, and she was afraid he would think badly of her.
“Well, well.” He gazed at her with narrowed eyes, almost as if he was seeing her for the first time.
Somehow he hadn’t really been surprised that she had dealt with Owen’s injury so competently—but it did surprise him that she had the determination to respond so decisively to their attackers.
Sir Humphrey was always inclined to create comfortable mental images of the people he knew and, when they did something which didn’t fit the character he had created for them, he would often ignore the implications of their action. The habit was too deeply ingrained for him ever to lose it, but, for a moment at least, he did become aware of an aspect of Charity’s character which he had never before fully appreciated. For a moment his reaction was uncertain. Did he approve of her determination—or disapprove of her reckless and unladylike behaviour? But he was usually generous in his judgement of others, and not the man to let knowledge of his own failings sour his opinion of others.
“Well done, my dear,” he said heartily. “You had more courage and presence of mind than any of us.”
“You mean, you approve?” Charity was surprised.
“Well, it’s not quite the conduct I’d expect from a young girl—but courage and quick wits are very important qualities to have,” Sir Humphrey declared. “It’s a pity you’re not a man.”
Charity blinked, and then opened her mouth indignantly.
“I’m not sure that I’d agree with you on that point,” said Jack hastily, frowning at Charity slightly. “But I think we are in danger of becoming side-tracked here. May I be so bold as to suggest that we all sit down, and consider the matter in hand sensibly?”
There was no doubt that his last few words had been directed specifically at Charity, and she closed her mouth and simmered quietly.
“My dear fellow, of course. I’m so sorry. Do sit down,” Sir Humphrey exclaimed, dismayed that he should have proved so inhospitable a host. “Would you like some burgundy, claret, brandy—tea…?” He remembered Charity’s presence.
She started to laugh. “Sir Humphrey, you hate tea,” she said.
“No, no, my dear,” he assured her. “I confess, I’m not as fond of it as you ladies seem to be, but…”
The door crashed open and Lord Travers strode into the room, angrily stripping off his riding gloves.
“I have spent hours cooling my heels waiting for that jumped-up jackanapes and I’m damned if I’ll wait any longer. I’m not answerable to any misbeggoten son of a…” He stopped dead, the colour draining from his face as he saw Jack.
Jack stood up slowly.
“You were saying?” he said. There was no expression on his face, but his eyes were cold, and his voice was quiet and dangerous.
“Nothing.” Lord Travers stared transfixed at Jack.
“What were you saying?” Jack repeated implacably.
“I…I believe my remarks were not addressed to you, my lord.” Lord Travers finally regained the power of speech, and even attempted a casual laugh—but his effort failed dismally.
“Nevertheless, I suggest you retract them,” said Jack. “You would be most unwise to rely any further on my forbearance.”
He paused. There was something terrible in the silent intensity of his manner and, in the silence that followed his words, the only sound to be heard was Lord Travers’s uneven breathing.
“I…I must have been misinformed,” said Lord Travers breathlessly.
“Misinformed?” Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Then you have been discussing the matter with others?”
“I…I mean, I was mistaken,” Lord Travers stammered, seeing another trap opening before him. Later he would writhe with self-reproach at his craven response but now, as he felt the full force of Jack’s anger and contempt, he did not even think of trying to save face. Lord Travers was deeply afraid, and he would have abased himself before Jack if doing so would have preserved him from Jack’s revenge.
“You were mistaken,” said Jack. “Don’t ever doubt it.”
“N-no.”
“Good. And no doubt in future you will remember that I do not care to have my affairs discussed in public.”
“Y-yes, my lord.” Lord Travers looked so wretched that Charity was almost inclined to feel sorry for him. But then she remembered how prejudicial his slanders could have proved to Jack’s acceptance by his new neighbours, and she no longer felt any sympathy for Lord Travers. The gossiping lord was not only a fool who gave no thought to the ultimate consequences of his actions, but he was also a coward at heart, with all the instincts of a bully. He neither could nor would repeat his slanders to their victim, and his fear of Jack reduced him to grovelling imbecility.
For a moment longer Jack continued to look steadily at Lord Travers, then he seemed satisfied, and some of the tension left him.
“I sent you a message that I would be delayed,” he said. “Unfortunately the delay proved to be greater than I had expected. It is no longer convenient for me to see you now. We will postpone our meeting until a future—but not too far distant—date. There are several things we must discuss.”
“Yes, my lord.” Lord Travers bowed jerkily and turned to Sir Humphrey.
“Sir Humphrey, I have so much enjoyed my stay, but, I regret, I must…that is, I have urgent affairs…so sorry…very pleasant time…apologies to Lady Leydon…excellent hunting…and must leave at once.” Lord Travers backed out of the room, still talking.
“Well!” said Sir Humphrey, taking a deep breath. “What the devil did you do to him?”
“Nothing in particular.” The sparks of cold diamond fire had left Jack’s eyes, and now his expression was as mild and faintly humorous as always. “I believe you were about to offer us some tea,” he said.
“In a minute,” said Sir Humphrey with uncharacteristic inhospitality. “Now, there has been something odd going on between you and Travers ever since you arrived, and I want to get to the bottom of it. Travers is—was—a guest in my house. I have a right to know.”
“There’s nothing to discuss,” said Jack pleasantly. “Lord Travers made certain…unfounded allegations, which you have since heard him retract. That’s all there is to it.”
“Yes, but—” Sir Humphrey began doubtfully.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Charity interrupted, quite out of patience with both of them. “Lord Travers borrowed money from Jack’s—I mean, Lord Riversleigh’s bank, but because he’s a mean-spirited man he resented having to put himself at such a disadvantage. I dare say telling all those lies made him feel powerful and important—he’s too stupid to realise the consequences until too late. Now he’s gone scurrying home, to try to persuade himself that it never happened—at least…”
She looked at Jack, suddenly concerned. “You don’t think he’ll try to take his revenge in a more…more devious way, do you?”
“Waylay me in a dark alley?” Jack asked. “No, I don’t think he’ll do that. Words are his chosen weapon, and I don’t think he’ll deviate from his custom.”
“But, all the same, I think you should be careful,” Charity insisted.
“That blackguard!” Sir Humphrey burst out, paying no attention to Charity.
It was true he’d already begun to have doubts concerning the truth of the rumours about Jack, and the events of the morning had completely driven his earlier suspicions out of his mind. Nevertheless, it was still a very unpleasant shock to discover exactly what kind of man had been enjoying his hospitality.
“My lord,” said Sir Humphrey with stiff formality, “I owe you an apology. I believed what Travers said and now I see that I have been guilty of gross injustice. I trust that you will forgive me.”
Jack smiled and held out his hand. “You didn’t know me,” he said. “There was no injustice.”
“That’s generous—”
“I think you mentioned tea earlier,” Jack interrupted. “I think perhaps Miss Mayfield…”
“Of course, of course.” Sir Humphrey relieved his feelings by tugging at the bell-pull so vigorously that Charity was half afraid he was going to yank it down.
She glanced at Jack and saw the amusement in his eyes and had to look away before she started to laugh.
* * *
“Well, you’ll live, but you’ll be no good to me for weeks.” The master thief dried his hands on a rough towel and looked down at his henchman irritably.
“I-I-I’m s-s-sorry, s-sir,” the man stammered wretchedly.
“You should be,” Ralph Gideon replied curtly. “Were you questioned?”
“Y-y-y—”
“Did you say anything?” Gideon interrupted sharply.
“N-n-n-no, sir!” The man lay on his uncomfortable bed and looked up at his master fearfully. He really didn’t think he had said anything, but he was afraid of Gideon.
“I hope you didn’t. Dear God! I shall be glad to be out of this place.” Gideon had been about to ask some more questions, but he was suddenly recalled to a sense of his surroundings by the aggravating bite of a flea, and instead he looked round the cheap inn room in some disgust. Then he turned his attention back to his servant.
“Remember, if anyone questions you, we were attacked by footpads on Horsham Common. It happens all the time, I’m told. Do you know who shot you?”
“N-n-n…” At the time Luke had been too preoccupied to turn and look, and now he didn’t understand the gleam in his master’s eyes.
“It was the girl,” said Gideon softly. “She was the one who foiled me the first time. When this business is over, I think I shall turn my attention to taming her.”
For a moment he gazed into space, contemplating some vision of his own, then he recollected himself and tossed the towel on to the floor.
“Go to sleep,” he said abruptly. “I have work to do.” He opened the chamber door and went downstairs, and Luke heard him calling for the innkeeper’s daughter to bring him ale.
* * *
Charity opened the door quietly and crept over to where Lady Leydon was sitting beside the bed on which Owen lay. He appeared to be sleeping comfortably, and his mother was sewing with an expression which was almost peaceful.
She glanced up at Charity but, though she smiled, it was clear that her thoughts were elsewhere. She was remembering the long-distant days when she had been the most important person in Owen’s life. Not like now, when all too often his affection was tempered with impatience and even irritability. He was becoming increasingly like his father and, though Lady Leydon knew how important she was to Sir Humphrey’s comfort, she also knew he was very unlikely to tell her so—or to think she needed telling. The magistrate might be prepared to allow Charity a certain latitude in her opinions and actions, but he would have thought it a very strange thing if his wife had been equally independent.
“How is Owen?” Charity asked in an undertone.
“Sleeping. He woke earlier, and I was able to give him some broth,” Lady Leydon replied.
He’d also asked after Charity, but Lady Leydon didn’t mention that. She would lose Owen again soon enough when he was no longer dependent on her, she had no intention of doing anything to bring that situation about more quickly than necessary.
“I’m so glad,” said Charity impulsively. “I was worried earlier—but I was just being foolish. With you to look after him, he’ll soon be well again.”
“Yes,” said Lady Leydon baldly.
It was unusual for her to be so abrupt, even curt, and for a moment Charity was afraid Lady Leydon blamed her for Owen’s injury. She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t apologise for something that hadn’t been her fault, nor could she say that Owen had been shot because of his own hasty temper.
“I shall be sorry to leave Sussex,” she said instead. “You have been such good neighbours to us all these years. I know this isn’t the last time we shall be seeing each other, but I did want to thank you for all your kindness to Mama and me.”
“But you won’t be far away,” Lady Leydon said slightly more cordially.
“Far enough,” Charity replied, surprised that Mrs Carmichael had obviously failed to pass on this piece of information to Lady Leydon. “We’re moving to London, did you not know?”
“I thought you were going to Horsham!” Lady Leydon exclaimed.
“That was our first plan,” Charity admitted, “but Mama never really cared for it. We’re going to London instead. We’re in the middle of making the arrangements now.”
Even as she spoke she wondered why she was telling Lady Leydon all this. With the discovery of the pendant it might not be necessary for them to move at all.
But perhaps she was telling Owen’s mother that she was leaving Sussex because she couldn’t tell Owen that she wasn’t going to marry him. She had never regretted anything so much as she regretted her folly at the party the previous evening. She should never have encouraged Owen to believe they were as good as betrothed, and now, with Owen sick, there was nothing she could do to put her mistake right. She must wait until Owen recovered—and hope that he wouldn’t be too disappointed.
Perhaps the gentlemanly thing to do would be to go through with the marriage—but Charity was too honest to contemplate such a course. In the past she had always believed that love was not necessarily essential for a successful marriage, but now she knew that, for her at least, it was. She wanted Jack, and if she couldn’t have him she didn’t want anyone.
“London!” Lady Leydon exclaimed, interrupting Charity’s thoughts. “I had no idea. We’ll all miss you so much—I know Owen will,” she added significantly.
“Thank you. It will be sad for us too,” Charity replied sedately, trying not to look self-conscious. “But you know how Owen and I are always arguing. You’ll be able to have some peace for a change!”
“No such thing,” Lady Leydon assured her, but there was a warmth in her expression which had been lacking previously. She had suspected that there was more between Owen and Charity than either had admitted and, though she didn’t dislike Charity, she was relieved that her suspicions had apparently been unfounded.
“You must come back and visit us whenever you feel homesick for your old haunts,” she offered generously.
“Thank you. And when we are settled in London you must come and visit us,” Charity replied, though inwardly she hoped the suggestion would never come to anything. She was grateful that the undercurrent of tension that had seemed to exist between Lady Leydon and herself had disappeared—but she had no desire to pursue their friendship. It would be too awkward.
There seemed to be very little more to be said and so, with one last look at Owen’s recumbent form, she took her leave of Lady Leydon and returned to her bedchamber.
* * *
It was nearly dark, and Mrs Mayfield was still resting after the upsets of the day, but Charity sat quietly in her room, knowing that Sir Humphrey and Lord Riversleigh were already on their way to Hazelhurst, ready to lay the trap for the master thief.
When they had finally managed to discuss the problem of trapping the thief Sir Humphrey had insisted that he take part in the scheme. Jack had tried to dissuade him, pointing out that if too many people were involved the thief was more likely to become suspicious and perhaps not even come.
But Sir Humphrey would not agree to remain behind. He had invoked his authority both as a Justice of the Peace and as the father of one of the thief’s victims—and Jack had made no further attempt to exclude him. He would have felt happier without the magistrate’s presence, but in all fairness he could not deny Sir Humphrey’s right to be involved.
With that decided, they had laid their plans quickly, the only further matter of slight dissension being the number of men they took with them—Sir Humphrey wanted four; Jack didn’t want any. In the end they compromised on two, but Jack was beginning to despair of how they would get so many men into the house unobserved.
He was certain that the thief would be watching the house, if not all day then at least for an hour or two before he made another attempt to enter it. It was for that reason that Jack wanted his party to arrive in the late afternoon before dark. There was a possibility that the thief wouldn’t be watching the house during the day, especially since he already had the problem of finding somewhere to take his wounded confederate.
But if he didn’t return that evening he would certainly be back the next—if he didn’t come during the day. It was unlikely—even with the house apparently unoccupied by its owners, there were still several people about—but it was possible. That was why Jack had arranged for his own servant to be present while he himself was absent. He could rely on Alan to react quickly and effectively during an emergency—unlike Charles, who invariably needed guidance in any unfamiliar situation.
Charity had listened to the discussions quietly. She had made one or two suggestions as to how they could best enter the house unobserved, but apart from that she had taken no part in the arrangements. She had seemed rather withdrawn, but she couldn’t help smiling at the enthusiasm Sir Humphrey displayed for the plan.
“Well, we’ve some time yet before we must leave,” Sir Humphrey had declared at last. “How about a game of piquet while we wait, Riversleigh?”
“Certainly,” Jack had smiled.
“Good, good. I’ll just go and set things in motion, then we can play a quick hand or two.” Sir Humphrey’s eyes had lit up in anticipation as he had hurried off to order his servants to be in readiness later in the afternoon.
It was then, when she had been left briefly alone with Jack, that Charity had spoken. And it was that moment which she remembered now as she sat on the edge of her bed in the gathering darkness at the end of the short winter day.
“You will be careful, won’t you? Sir Humphrey is sometimes too impulsive,” she had said.
“I will act as a restraining influence,” Jack had replied lightly.
“It’s important,” she had insisted. “He’s a ruthless man, this thief. He’ll hurt you if he has to—perhaps even if he doesn’t. And it’s my house you’re defending. If anything happens to any of you—I will feel responsible.”
“That’s nonsense,” Jack had said firmly, a slight frown creasing his forehead as he looked at her. “You aren’t responsible for what he does—or for us. Don’t ever think it.”
“I’m not sure I agree, but, anyway, do be careful,” Charity had repeated as she had heard Sir Humphrey returning.
She remembered her words now, and she couldn’t rid herself of the feeling that she was responsible, and that she should be at Hazelhurst. If her father had been alive he would have been waiting with Jack and Sir Humphrey. It was her home and they were her friends—she should be there.
She came to a decision and stood up briskly. It wasn’t difficult to leave the house without being observed, and once outside she made her way quickly to the stables.