"Ours is a little larger, I believe,” I said, for I wanted to outdo him in something.
"The forgers often make such mistakes, for they do not have the original to work from, but only a picture. What you have, if I am not mistaken, is one of the Italian forgeries from the last century. This original is from the Ming dynasty, circa 1500. It was during the Yuan dynasty that white translucent porcelain with the blue underglaze was first used. This style reached its peak during the Ming period.” His long fingers caressed the vase lovingly as he spoke.
I said, quite at random, “Very nice."
"And very valuable,” he added, carefully returning it to its table. “You ladies are leaving?” His snakelike gaze turned to include Mama in the question.
"We are just on our way out, milord,” she said.
He did not ask why we had come, but those raised eyebrows told me he was wondering, and I mentioned the Book Society. “Your mama was not interested,” I said.
"We shan't send you off empty-handed, miss…” Perhaps the raised eyebrows indicated an uncertainty as to our identity. “Miss Barron,” he said, apparently recognizing us. “We have all sorts of books no one reads. I shall have some sent to Hernefield for you ladies to enjoy."
We had not come hat in hand, begging, but I was so eager to get away that I said, “Thank you,” in a choked tone, and lunged for the doorway, with Mama scampering behind me.
As we left, I heard Lady Weylin complain loudly, “I asked her to send Seeton in. Really, the chit has no manners."
Seeton condescended to get the door for us. “Her ladyship would like to see you, Seeton,” I said, and left with what dignity I could.
"How horrid!” Mama exclaimed, when we were safely out the door. “I never felt so unwelcome in my life. She had the tea tray right beside her, and did not even offer us a cup. Rag-mannered, I call it.” I had not noticed the tea tray. “I don't suppose you managed to drop the diamonds?"
"No, Lord Weylin came too soon. He thinks I was trying to steal that ugly old vase. Did you see the way he glared at me?"
"All the Weylins are excessively toplofty. I felt as welcome as the pox, and the worst of it is, we shall have to come back tomorrow."
"Not I!” The image of Lord Weylin's haughty form rose up in my mind. He was elegantly tall and thin, but with the broad chest and shoulders of the sportsman. That sleekly barbered hair and those disturbingly dark gray eyes would cause a blush for days to come. His proud, sculpted nose and arrogant chin, the lips drawn in a pinched smile, sent a shiver of shame through me.
"I shall never darken their door again. I would rather be arrested for holding stolen goods."
"Well I would not! You must come back, Zoie."
Chapter Four
Mama had a suspiciously convenient attack of rheumatism in her knees that evening. I set out alone for Parham the next morning, again at ten-thirty, as that hour had found her ladyship at home the day before. It was either return the necklace or lock Steptoe in the cellar until we came up with some other plan. He had become so uppity that the matter had to be settled without delay. Once the necklace was back where it belonged, we would send him packing. Let him holler that the diamonds had been found at Hernefield. It was his word against ours, and Brodagan announced that she, for one, was ready to perjure herself in the matter, for she could not draw breath under the same roof as Master Cock o’ the Ashes. The good Lord would not demand it of her.
Mama and I felt that once the Weylins had the diamonds, there would be no legal action taken, even if Steptoe told them of our involvement. Lady Weylin was too lethargic to enjoy going to court, and Weylin would not be eager to alienate an old family like ours, with political connections in the parish.
Lord Weylin had, as promised, sent some dusty old books to Hernefield the afternoon before. There was a preponderance of sermons and reformation tracts by such lively writers as John Donne and Hannah More, a few slender volumes of bad verse by poets no one had ever heard of, and one severely mauled copy of Pamela taken from the circulating library in town. Its condition suggested that her ladyship either read with her teeth, or allowed Bubbums to have his way with the books.
Many of the novels in our circulating library are similarly gnawed. The return date was marked as August 31, 1801. A mere decade and a half overdue. That was my pretext for calling, to return this long overdue library book; included in error with the others, which, presumably, did belong to the Weylins.
Prepared to be shunted into the small parlor, I had decided to shove the curst necklace down the side of the settee, return Pamela when and if I was granted an audience-and I truly hoped I would not be-and leave at once. Seeton recognized me on the second visit.
"Is her ladyship expecting you?” he asked with his usual hauteur, but he let me in.
"No, she is not. Shall I wait in the other room?"
"One moment, please,” he said, and disappeared, not into the Blue Saloon, but down the hallway, leaving me to cool my heels just inside the door.
I made use of the time to examine the entrance for possible hiding places. Unfortunately, the decorations in that area were all statues, and I could not like to hang a string of diamonds around the neck of Zeus. While I was looking about for other hidey-holes, there was a light sound of footsteps, and Lord Weylin came wafting down the staircase. He was turned out in what he, no doubt, considered country style. He wore buckskins and top boots whose pristine condition suggested no familiarity with the great outdoors.
He stopped dead in his tracks and stared. “Miss Barron,” he said, with a formal bow.
"Good morning,” I replied, backing away from Zeus, and blushing at the memory of our last encounter. At least he could not think I would try to slip a six-foot statue into my pocket.
"You have come to see Mama, I collect?"
"Yes, to return one of the books you were kind enough to send to the Book Society,” I said, holding out Pamela.
He looked at it, then lifted his eyes to gaze at me. “You have an aversion to Richardson? A trifle racy, perhaps, but then, you are no longer a deb."
That chronic air of disdain suggested he was seeking out crow's-feet and faded skin, and finding them in abundance. “I merely thought you might prefer to return it to the circulating library, whence it came-fifteen years ago."
"Overdue, is it?” He reached for the book and opened the gnawed cover. “An oversight. Very kind of you to return it. You must go to the library and select a different novel."
"I did not come to beg, Lord Weylin!” Yet if I left now, my job would still be unaccomplished. The library seemed a good place to hide the necklace. “Well, perhaps if you have some novels you are finished with…"
He wafted his hand to indicate the library was down the hallway. I said, “Thank you,” and began to move along. Weylin followed behind to curtail my depredations on his library.
"I must commend you for your endeavors, Miss Barron. It is a good idea for you ladies to keep your minds busy,” he said, in a hatefully condescending way.
"Yes indeed, for we do not all have a dog to keep us occupied,” I replied. His head jerked around to look at me. I ignored it and kept walking.
When we reached the library, Lord Weylin stopped at the door. “You may help yourself to any of those,” he said, gesturing toward a heap of books on a table. “I am discarding them to make room for new books. One must keep abreast of the intellectual life. Philosophy, poetry…” He bowed and left, with a chilly smile.
One quick peek at the discards was enough to tell the tale. Bubbums had been tasting them all-and some of them were fine books, too, with leather and gilt bindings. I took a quick look about the room to choose my hiding spot. The library was just that-a library and nothing more. All the walls were lined with books. There were two tables with chairs in the middle of the room, but I could hardly just lay the necklace on the table. There was a French door leading to a small garden bordered with yews, with a few rosebushes.