CHAPTER 22
AN EXPERT OPINION
SIR MAYHEW DULLINGHAM seemed as old as a tree, remarkable upon first sight because of his eyebrows. They were not sleek and agile, as Hector’s were, but wiry and ferocious. His eyes were difficult to find beneath such hairy scrawls, and behind thick spectacles as well.
Mr. Pressman helped the old man out of his coat and took his hat, but was shooed away when he offered to carry a small leather valise. James sent a footman to notify Kitty Sivam. She soon arrived with Marjorie, and with a grinning Hector close behind.
“I am most excited to meet an expert of such renown,” he whispered to me.
“How do you know he is renowned?” I said.
“He is a sir!” said Hector. “Rewarded for the power of his brain and not for prowess on a battlefield.”
The Great Hall was populated with more people than I imagined Sir Mayhew Dullingham expected to see, and none of them the person he’d planned to meet. Inspector Willard had also appeared, looking quite puffed up and ready to make a pronouncement. James introduced himself to Sir Mayhew and explained there had been a tragic death, that the police were here, that Mr. Sivam had been called away, but here was Mrs. Sivam in her husband’s stead.
“And the stone, my dear lady?” said Sir Mayhew.
“The stone—” Kitty began.
Inspector Willard could keep quiet no longer. He raised two tightly closed fists, looking like a boxer without puffy gloves.
“Officially,” he said, “the stone is currently in the care of the Tiverton constabulary, as part of an investigation into the crimes committed.”
“You have the—” Kitty Sivam’s eyes watched the inspector’s hand, as if he were a conjurer about to produce a white rabbit. “You’ve found the stone?” she cried. She pounced on him, pulling his fists out of the air. He stepped back and held his arms aloft.
“Madam,” he said, “I must ask you—”
“Where did you find it?” she demanded.
“The stone has been lost?” Sir Mayhew’s voice held a distinct waver.
“Who took it?” said Mrs. Sivam. “I want to know where it was.”
“Under the circumstances,” said the inspector, “the police are reluctant to allow the Echo Emerald out of our care, even for a short time.”
Kitty Sivam had two spots of color high on her cheeks. “Let me see the stone!” she cried. “Have you found my husband too?”
“Have I arrived in a madhouse?” The old gemologist’s eyebrows seemed to tremble as he peered at the inspector, who finally opened his left fist to offer a glimpse of the gem. I stood on my tiptoes to catch a glint of green, as did Hector next to me.
“I’d like it back,” said Kitty Sivam. “Until Lakshay can be here to—”
James intervened. “I propose that we proceed with the appraisal that Lakshay arranged. Surely it will be to everyone’s advantage to know precisely what sort of gem we’ve got here—why the actress took it into her silly head to—”
“The actress?” said Kitty Sivam, her voice high-pitched and furious. “The actress?”
The inspector’s hand snapped shut. James realized his error in revealing the possible culprit and attempted to change direction.
“We do need to know whether it was worth…” He paused again.
What had he been about to say? Was it worth the risk that Annabelle had apparently taken? Was it worth Roger Corker dying for? Was it worth so much that someone (I had trouble imagining Annabelle) had become a killer? Or…was it fulfilling an ancient curse?
Marjorie put a hand on Kitty Sivam’s arm. “It will be best for everyone, dear, if we know its value.”
Mrs. Sivam swallowed hard and straightened her back, seeming to adjust her attitude along with her posture. “Of course.” She nodded to Inspector Willard. “I apologize for my upset. I’m…on edge.”
The inspector passed the Echo Emerald into Sir Mayhew’s open palm. The gemologist sighed, rather like the sigh of someone given a large slice of cake. He squinted through his thick spectacles, lifted it close to his lips and exhaled abruptly. He then peered again at the jewel, his head seeming to jiggle as much as the tremor in his hand.
“Well, sir?” said Kitty Sivam. “What do you see?”
Her voice was soft, but surprising to the old man. He fumbled. The emerald fell from his fingers. All watching gasped together, and then again half a second later when Hector darted with the speed of a hummingbird and caught the gem before it hit the floor.
Sir Mayhew Dullingham jumped, and began a wheezy chuckle. “Splendid,” he said.
It seemed he was about to pat Hector’s head, but accepted the emerald instead.
“If you would be so kind,” he said to James. “I should like two glasses of water and a private place with good light to continue my examination.”
“But—” Kitty began, and stopped at once.
James signaled to Mr. Pressman to arrange for water. James himself would escort the gemologist to a private spot.
“I will have the boy to assist,” said Sir Mayhew.
Excellent work, my friend! Hector shot me a triumphant smile.
The inspector himself planned to stand guard while the gemstone was examined.
Lucy poked me.
“James will take them to his study!” she whispered. “We can watch!”
Doubly excellent! We pretended to scrutinize one of the enormous urns full of festive greenery as Marjorie guided Kitty toward the drawing room. A few minutes on, we sidled out of the Great Hall, with the casual stealth of practiced spies.
How deflating to arrive at the morning room and discover James leaning against the door frame! Lucy glared. He had read our minds—and didn’t he look smug.
“Hello, ladies,” he said. “Going somewhere special?”
“I have misplaced my landscape embroidery,” said Lucy. “I may have left it on the…on the ottoman.”
“Do have a look,” said James. “I can wait.”
I did not imagine that Lucy had ever embroidered anything more than her initial on a handkerchief. I laughed.
“Come on, Lucy,” I said. “We’ve been outsmarted. Let’s go and wait with Marjorie for news about the emerald.”
“But it’s so deadly boring in the drawing room!”
“You could start a new piece of embroidery,” suggested James.
Hector, presumably, was passing a pleasant hour of instruction in gemology, while Lucy and I sat upright on a drawing room chaise, listening to Kitty Sivam mutter and fuss as she paced back and forth across the cabbage roses woven into the carpet.
“But where is Lakshay?” she cried, every third or fourth turn. “It made sense that he might flee to protect his precious jewel, but it makes no sense at all that he should go away without taking it with him.”
Marjorie invented a new soothing remark each time. Lucy yawned or retied the ribbons at the ends of her plaits. And I thought about Hector diving for the Echo Emerald and how not bored he must be just now.
A tap on the door and Frederick came in. He bowed to my sister and glanced over his shoulder to where I saw Stephen hovering.
“Begging your pardon, my lady,” said Frederick. “Due to the police activity, the lamps have not been trimmed on schedule. If the boy could slip in now? The inspector wishes to speak with him again and we do not know when next—”
“Certainly, Frederick, send him in,” said Marjorie, ignoring Kitty’s raised eyebrow. “The servants’ schedules are as upset as everyone else’s,” she explained to her guest. “Perhaps even more so. We must accommodate, for our own comfort.”
Kitty sat, in a rustle of silk, as Stephen came in carrying his basket of lamp-tending tools. Frederick waited at the door, perhaps to prevent any misbehavior on the part of the boy. We sat for a few minutes, diverted by Stephen performing his duties—though if I’d been in his place, the mortification of all eyes on me would have been unbearable!
It was Kitty who cracked the silence by addressing Frederick. “Are you the boy who was acting as my husband’s valet?” she said.
“Yes, ma’am,”
“And were you the one to rifle his drawers and leave the room in disgraceful disarray?”
“Kitty!” scolded my sister.
“No, ma’am!” Frederick colored scarlet. “I found the room that way! The police asked that I wait to tidy while they looked around.”
“The police have searched there too?” said Kitty, disconcerted.
“Yes, ma’am.” Frederick’s voice was quiet but firm.
“Frederick has been with us for many months,” said Marjorie. “He’s becoming a fine footman, aren’t you, Frederick?”
“Yes, your ladyship, I hope so,” said Frederick.
Lucy turned to Stephen. “Why are you being interviewed again by the police? Are you also a suspect?”
Stephen paused in his task, with scissors in midair. “No, Miss Chatsworth, I am as honest as a mirror.”
This made Marjorie and Kitty laugh, while Stephen flushed.
“Why then?” said Lucy.
“I expect they want to hear more about my observations on the subject of boots,” said Stephen. “As I happen to be the one polishing, and I know there were no jewel in Miss Day’s boot last night, because I’d of noticed if—”
“Stephen,” said Frederick, sharply, from his place at the door. “Finish up.”
Stephen ducked his face to his task, while his ears glowed red.
Lucy moved to the piano. “May I play, Aunt Marjorie?”
“I suppose so,” said my sister.
Kitty rolled her eyes and Marjorie rolled her eyes in return, but listening to Lucy plink-plunk her way through a Brahms lullaby allowed us to pass the next many minutes. Frederick escorted Stephen away, and we were back to waiting for news from Sir Mayhew Dullingham.
Happily, James appeared after not too, too long. “Please come to the study.”
“Oh, thank Heaven.” Kitty reached for her shawl.
It was my first time being inside the study, though I had seen a slice of it through the spy-hole. The desk of burnished wood caught a trickle of winter light through leaded panes. Walls of books, a reading chair, a tin of biscuits close to hand. I could live in this one room!
But we were here on important business, and what did it mean that Hector would not meet my eyes?
“Well?” said Kitty Sivam, too eager for good manners.
“Lord and Lady Greyson,” said Sir Mayhew, “and Mrs. Sivam. I shall be brief. It grieves me to inform you that the stone in your possession is not the famous Echo Emerald missing from the statue of Aditi in Ceylon.”
Kitty Sivam gasped and reached for my sister’s hand.
“It is not, in fact, an emerald at all,” said the old man. “It is a well-composed copy, made of glass.”