"And you made the mistake of putting those vineyards in Venice,” I reminded him.
"Ah, you remember that faux pas. I was hoping you had not noticed it."
"Did you never plan to tell us who you are, Andrew?” I asked. “When both Barry and Margaret were dead, surely there was no reason to keep quiet."
"I have wanted to tell you forever, but I could not find the marriage certificate. Without that, I felt very little claim on your friendship-a mere by-blow. You would be ashamed of me. I hoped that setting up your studio might provide an excuse to search Barry's room. I knew he had the certificate, for he showed it to us once at Lindfield. Margaret was touched that he had kept it all those years. Then yesterday Steptoe got in touch with me. He had seen me in Lindfield. The scoundrel had been spying through Barry's belongings when Barry was still alive, and saw the marriage license. Barry interrupted him before he had time to read the bride's name. Steptoe has been searching for it ever since, but he could not find it.
"He knew Barry met me in Tunbridge when he was supposed to be in London. He never spotted Margaret. She kept pretty close to the house. I don't believe Steptoe ever figured out what was going on. Being a thief himself, he suspected only financial chicanery, but there was nothing illegal in Barry selling the jewelry he brought home from India. A fine emerald necklace, a sapphire ring, a few other pieces. Margaret sold the diamond necklace herself, and claimed it was stolen, to avoid questions. Barry dealt with a different jeweler."
I missed a golden opportunity to hold my tongue and said, “Mr. Bradford, at the Kashmir Jewelry Shop.” Weylin gave me a questioning look, but Andrew spoke on.
"That is right. I see you have been investigating, cousin. Margaret and Barry wanted to see me comfortable in the world. They preferred to arrange all the transfers by cash, to be rid of the complications of a will, which was bound to cause trouble. I did not urge them to do it. Money is not important to me. I don't need much, though I daresay I shall set myself up in a little higher style now that you folks are acknowledging me. Anyhow, I agreed to pay Steptoe a hundred pounds if he could find the marriage license."
"I wonder why Steptoe left without finding it,” I said. “It is unlike him to walk away from a hundred pounds. He must have assumed Barry destroyed it."
"I wager he did not leave empty-handed,” Weylin said.
"He did not take the silver or any jewelry at least."
A little later, Mary came bobbing into the saloon to say Mama was arranging the blue room for Mr. Jones, and did I know what happened to the little blue and white jug that used to sit on the bureau. It was gone.
"No, I have not seen it, Mary.” Saint Brodagan has a heavy hand. In her new state of grace, she would no doubt confess to having broken it, if asked nicely. I said to Weylin, “That is the little jug like the Ming vase you thought I was trying to steal at Parham. I mentioned it to you."
"Ah yes, the Ming vase made in Italy.” Then his smile stretched to a wicked grin. “Steptoe! That is what he ran off with! He mistook it for a genuine Ming. I knew he had not gone empty-handed. He will be disappointed when he tries to hawk it."
Borsini-I must remember to call him Andrew-was smiling softly. “Preparing a guest room for me?” he asked. “Then she is willing to acknowledge me?"
"Willing and eager, even though she is unaware of that wedding certificate,” I assured him. “She has bought sateen for new curtains for your room."
"You will have uphill work trying to pry Andrew loose from Mama,” Weylin warned. “He is a prime favorite there, too."
Mama soon joined us, and the story was gone over again. She was completely enthralled with her new nephew.
"I always felt there was something in Borsini-did I not say so, Zoie? I always felt-but it was those 'signoras' that put me off a little. You must call me Aunt Flo, Andrew. Come and tell me if you like the blue room, or if you would prefer your papa's octagonal tower. Zoie can have her studio in another room."
Knowing my keen interest in my studio, Andrew said at once that blue was his favorite color. I heard him assuring Mama as they went toward the staircase that he was never comfortable in an odd-shaped room.
"It seems we have found a new cousin, Weylin,” I said. “How did your mama take the news?"
"Mama was as nearly happy as I have ever seen her. Also Bubbums. He is broadening his snacks to include paintbrushes. Mama was not so surprised as you may think. She always thought there was some mystery to Margaret's hasty marriage to Macintosh. At the time of the so-called miscarriage, she began remembering a little gain in weight before the wedding, and what was called at the time a nervous stomach. But ladies, you know, did not discuss such things. Andrew is to be a cousin from Ireland, as we do not wish to jeopardize his inheritance by broadcasting the bigamous nature of Margaret's marriage. Morally the money is Andrew's. That is good enough for me."
"It was kind of him to pretend he did not want my studio, was it not? He knows how much it means to me."
"It is a shame a fine painter like Andrew does not have a studio, though. We have a nice, bright corner room at Parham that would take very little work to convert to a studio."
"Weylin! You are not going to steal him from us entirely! We found him first!"
He rose and sat on the sofa beside me. “You misunderstand me, Zoie. The corner room at Parham would make a fine studio for you.” A lazy light danced in his eyes, and his lips moved uncertainly.
Until he made his intentions clearer, I was obliged to misunderstand him. “It would be inconvenient for me to have my studio at Parham and live here. Much better to have it where one lives."
His arm moved along the sofa, to dangle over my shoulder. “True. I daresay we could find you a bedroom as well, move you in bag and baggage. The only little difficulty is that you would have to share the bedchamber with me."
"Are you not afraid I would make off with your Chinese porcelains?"
"What is mine is milady's,” he murmured, placing his hand on my shoulder and turning me to face him. “My vases, my home, my name…"
The words blurred to a hum as his lips seized mine. I closed my eyes as his arms folded around me, crushing me to him. I was overcome again by the magic of the moonlit garden. A strange confusion of emotions whirled through my brain. It was all mixed up with Andrew and the sad tale of Barry and Margaret, and with leaving Mama to begin a new life at Parham. How could Margaret have let the man she loved sail away from her? My heart swelled within me, filling me with an unknown rapture, which must have been love. I knew I would follow Weylin to the ends of the earth, if that was what he wanted.
We did not hear Brodagan come in. She can move quietly when she wants to. The first intimation that we had company was a discreet cough. We flew apart in guilty haste, to see her staring at us. With her misshapen jaw, it was impossible to know whether she was smiling or frowning.
"Brodagan, you should be in bed!” I exclaimed.
"So should you, from the way the pair of you are carrying on,” she replied. “Them chits from Parham can go home now, your lordship. I don't need any help but my Mary and Jamie. I'll not let an aching jaw detour me from my duties to my ladies."
Weylin, awake on all suits, knew the way to cozen her. “I wish you will let them stay a few days, Brodagan. They do not get the sort of training they need at Parham. It takes a masterful woman like you to trim the chits into line. You had best go and see they are not moping over a cup of tea. You know what servants are."
"Aye, when the cat's away, the mice will play. As soon as melady comes down, I'll get a collar on your chits, melord.” She stood straight as a door, glaring at us until we drew a few inches apart. “Well,” she said impatiently. “Do you have something to tell me?"