"Did Reverend Portland sell you much jewelry?” I asked.
"Not a great deal. About fifteen thousand it would come to, in all. The emerald necklace was the best of the lot."
Mama looked as if she had been shot with an arrow. I knew exactly what she was thinking. Barry had turned thief, and had sold his ill-got gains to this unsuspecting man.
I swallowed and said, “Was this recently? I mean did he sell you the jewelry all at one time, or-"
"Oh no, just as he needed the blunt, you know. Our clerics are not well paid. He first came into my shop about five years ago, to sell a diamond tie pin. A dandy piece, a flawless diamond. I had it mounted in a ring and sold it to Lady Montague. I told the reverend if he had any more such items, I would be happy to buy them. He was back in six months with a sapphire ring, then the next time with a ruby brooch."
"Did he ever sell a diamond necklace?” I asked, thinking of Lady Margaret's necklace.
He pondered a moment, then said, “Not a diamond necklace, no. Was he some kin to you, ladies?"
"A cousin,” I said. “We are from out of town, actually. We are trying to trace Cousin Portland. Someone reported having seen him hereabouts. You would not know where he lived?"
"I know it was not right in town,” Bradford replied promptly. “He had a little cottage in the countryside, down toward Ashdown Forest. I was never there myself. He always brought his pieces to me."
"You would not have his address in your account book?” Mama asked. “We are so very anxious to find him,” she added, with a sweet smile that would fool Satan himself.
"I don't,” Bradford answered. “The reverend was a secretive sort of a fellow. I do not mean sly. Pray do not think I am disparaging him. It is just that he kept pretty well to business. If he had not been a man of the cloth, I would have suspected where he was getting all those fine pieces,” he added with a laugh. “But when I dropped him a hint, he told me about his nabob uncle."
"Uncle Barry.” Mama nodded.
"I don't believe he ever mentioned the name. I know from experience that many a fine piece comes from India. If you find your cousin, ladies, tell him I am still open for business."
"Thank you,” I said, and snatched up my sketchpad. We. escaped into the street, trembling like aspens in a gale.
"He was a thief!” Mama gasped. “I am so glad Lord Weylin was not with us."
"At least he did not steal Lady Margaret's necklace."
"He did not sell it to that nice Mr. Bradford,” Mama countered, “but that is not to say he did not steal it. He knew she came to Tunbridge, you see, so he would have got rid of her necklace farther away, in London, very likely. I must be grateful he did not help himself to my poor chips of sapphire, that your papa gave me as a wedding gift."
"We had best get back to the hotel. It is nearly time for lunch,” I said, drawing out my watch to check the time.
"What shall we tell him?” Mama asked, in a frightened way. She meant, of course, Lord Weylin.
"Nothing. We had no luck in finding Uncle Barry."
"I wonder if he discovered anything of his aunt."
We headed back to the hotel, with our heads low, scheming how to hide our disgrace. “We ought to rush straight back to Hernefield, and take these sketches with us,” Mama said.
"I should like to make a detour to Ashdown Forest, and see if we can find any trace of Reverend Portland first."
"Impersonating a minister! That was really too bad of Barry. But not so bad as stealing all that jewelry.” She came to a dead stop. “Zoie! Our wits have gone begging! The money he got from Bradford must be in his house at Ashdown Forest-if he actually had such a house. That might be more lies."
"We have found no trace of him at any of the local hotels. It is worth a try."
"We shall go as soon as we can be rid of Weylin,” Mama declared.
When this was settled, we continued on our way back to the hotel, and lunch with Lord Weylin.
Chapter Eleven
Lord Weylin had not returned to the hotel when we arrived. We went abovestairs to tidy up for luncheon, and make further plans to delude him. I was sorry to cut Weylin out of our adventure. It was not every day such an eligible gentleman crossed my path. Mama had warned me against setting my cap for him; indeed I knew myself he was above my touch, but common sense never prevented a lady from hoping. If he was interested in me, there was nothing to prevent him from following up the acquaintance after we got back to Hernefield. He had said he wished to see my paintings.
Weylin had still not returned when we went downstairs. It was well past the time we had agreed to meet. His tardiness suggested he had found some clue that he was following up. We inquired at the desk whether he had left a message.
The clerk handed me a note. “It is not from his lordship. This arrived with the noon mail,” he said. I recognized Brodagan's broad fist. Mama and I took it to the parlor.
"This will be some tale of woe. Brodagan and Steptoe have come to cuffs very likely,” Mama said, ripping the note open. She glanced at it, gave an angry tsk, and handed it to me.
With amendments to spelling for your convenience, this is what I read:
Steptoe has upped and gone with never a word to a soul. His head never dented his pillow last night, for I used my key when he did not come down this morning and saw it for myself. The creature was still here when Lord Weylin's footman stopped for milady's book of pictures. Steptoe was quizzing the lad at the doorway. It would not surprise me if he has lit out for Tunbridge to do you a mischief. A look before you is better than two behind, milady. Mrs. Chawton has been hounding us to death to know about the Book Society. Mary has got a boil on her nose and looks like a witch. Your servant, Mrs. Brodagan.
"Steptoe!” I said. “Now what can he be up to?"
"No good-that is certain,” Mama replied. “We must keep an eye peeled for him."
When Lord Weylin had still not returned ten minutes later, we ordered wine to pass the time. No sooner was it poured than he came rushing in, full of apologies.
"Did you find any trace of Lady Margaret?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I have been at every hotel in town, public and private. It is a complete mystery to me where she stayed. I begin to think she had a fellow in London, and was pulling the wool over our eyes with her tale of coming to Tunbridge Wells. Did you ladies have any luck?"
"No,” we replied in unison, with suspicious alacrity.
I feared Weylin would notice our wary manner, but he was distracted. It was not long in dawning on me that he was concealing a secret himself. His manner was too hearty and his avowals of how hard he had looked were too strong not to cause suspicion. I feared he had learned Barry's secret, and was trying to hide it from us. If he had made inquiries at the Kashmir Jewelry Shop, for instance, Bradford might have said, “That is odd. I had two ladies in looking for their cousin this very morning.” Our description would leave Weylin in little doubt who the ladies were. But why keep it from us? Was it gentlemanly concern for our feelings, or was his reason darker?
We ordered lunch, and while we ate, I asked nonchalantly, “Did you go to any jewelry shops, milord, or only to hotels?"
His head jerked up. “Jewelry stores? No. Why do you ask?"
He had certainly been to jewelry stores. “Because of your aunt's missing necklace,” I replied with an innocent stare.
"No, there was not time. The best course is for me to make a few inquiries in London. It seems my aunt was not coming to Tunbridge all these years at all. Are you ladies about ready to throw in the towel? I fear it is a hopeless case."
Mama relaxed into a smile of relief. “We were thinking we might as well be getting on home, too,” she said.