Word of Honour

Aubrey stared at it while he tried to sort out a jumble of emotions. Mostly, he was surprised. He'd been struggling for his father's approval for so long that this tangible sign took him completely unaware. He was humbled, too, by the reality of his connection with the long history of the family that was here in his hand. And, with typical Aubrey perverseness, he was pricked by self-doubt. Did he really deserve this?

The stone was pear-shaped. It sparkled with a fire that came from deep within, a core of ruddy light. Aubrey stroked it with the tip of his forefinger. It felt warm.

'What should I do with it?'

'That's the challenge. Your grandfather had it set in a ring, but found it too clumsy to wear, except on special occasions. Tradition says, however, you can't simply repeat what the previous holder did.'

'I'm going to have it set in a watchcase,' Aubrey said and he blinked. He hadn't consciously come to a conclusion; it had simply popped into his head fully formed. But having blurted it out, the notion seemed perfect. He was conscious of time – having too little, seeing it run away too fast, the pressing urgency of it. Perhaps having a timepiece of his own could be a way of taming it.

'A watch? Novel idea. I don't think that's been done before.' Sir Darius looked pleased. 'We'll arrange for Anderson and Sutch to send someone around. They're excellent jewellers. You can explain what you want done.'

Sir Darius sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers. He smiled.

'Was this some sort of test?' Aubrey asked.

'Only in the broadest possible sense. Each of our family heirs must go through this.'

Aubrey folded his fist over the ruby. 'You didn't.'

'Oh, but I did. I had to take possession of the Brayshire Sapphire.'

'Ah, the mysterious Brayshire Sapphire.' Aubrey had never heard of the Brayshire Sapphire.

Sir Darius snorted. 'There's nothing mysterious about it. It just made a dashed ugly cigarette case look even more hideous. I don't know what I was thinking. I've never smoked.'

Aubrey felt the gem in his hand. It was surprisingly warm. 'Thank you, sir,' he repeated.

'It's yours, Aubrey, as it was your grandfather's. It's something that's been handed down, generation after generation. It reminds you of who you are.'

Aubrey's throat was tight. He swallowed. 'Sir. I'll do my best to live up to the family name.'

'What?' Sir Darius regarded him with raised eyebrows. 'Why, you've done that already, Aubrey, a hundred times over.'

Six

AUBREY HAD MUCH TO THINK ABOUT ON THE journey back to Maidstone, but he forgot it all when he saw the figure waiting for him at the front door.

'George! All's well at home?'

George frowned a little, then gave a slight shrug. Aubrey thought he looked tired. 'Father has an ulcer, the doctor says, and that's a miracle in itself.'

'An ulcer is a miracle?'

'No, the fact that Father actually saw a doctor.'

Sir Darius shook George's hand. 'I'm sorry to hear your father's unwell, George. Please send my regards.'

'I will, sir. He'll appreciate it.'

'And let me know if I can do anything.'

George made a face. 'Oh, sir, you know he won't have any of that. The doctor says he must stop worrying, but that's difficult right at the moment.'

Sir Darius laughed. 'Still the same stubborn William Doyle.'

Harris, the butler, had been standing silently, but at that moment he lifted his fist and coughed into it. This discreet display was followed by an infinitesimal tilt of his grey-haired head in the direction of a table next to the front door. It was piled high with dispatch boxes.

Sir Darius caught Harris's gesture, followed it, studied the tower of officialdom, and groaned. 'Aubrey. George. If you'll excuse me. I have some catching-up to do.'

He took the top three boxes. Harris took the remainder. Together, laden with the affairs of state, they started up the stairs.

Sir Darius stopped halfway. Without turning, he said, 'Aubrey. If you're not seeing the jewellers today, make sure you put the ruby in the safe.'

'Of course.' Aubrey fielded George's puzzlement cleanly and knew something that might brighten his friend's spirits. 'I'll tell you over lunch.'

A few hours later, with the afternoon fully mature and the table a picture of devastation, George sat back and picked crumbs from his chest. Aubrey thought his friend had begun the meal in a distant, abstracted mood, but he'd grown more interested as the story unfolded. Hands laced on his chest, he nodded at Aubrey. 'Magic suppressors, valuable family heirlooms, attempted bank robberies and the reappearance of Mr Clive Rokeby-Taylor. Have I missed anything?'

'No, not really.'

'Right. In that case, it sounds to me that we both need a last bit of relaxation, fun and frivolity, before we go up to Greythorn.'

'You're not anticipating any fun and frivolity at the university?'

'Not me, old man. Watch. Next week I'll have my head down in those books, the model student.'

'That's something I'm looking forward to. I always look forward to a miracle.'

George ignored him. 'But tonight, let's take in a show.'

Aubrey grimaced. He'd been thinking of how he could see Caroline again. Without offending her. Again. 'Why would I want to do that?'

'I've asked Caroline along.'

'A show. Splendid idea, George. What time?'

'YOU'RE SURE SHE SAID SHE'D MEET US THERE?'

The hansom cab ambled along the street toward the theatre district. Aubrey wished that they'd taken some more speedy form of transport. A lightning bolt, for instance.

'No, not at all.'

'What?'

'She said she'd meet me there. I didn't tell her that you were coming.'

'George, Caroline Hepworth isn't a fool. She'll at least suspect that you've invited me as well.'

'She still agreed to come, didn't she? What does that tell you?'

Aubrey stared at his friend without seeing him. His thoughts whirled. Caroline had left for the Arctic with the express purpose of not seeing him, the polar region being a renowned Aubrey-free environment. And yet, here she was back in Albion and after a few days she was already trying to find a way to see him. Or, at least, she wasn't going out of her way to avoid him, which was a great improvement on her project of putting thousands of miles of icecap between her and him.

'Don't jump to conclusions,' George advised. Then he slapped his forehead. 'What am I saying? You've probably leapfrogged a few dozen conclusions while you've been sitting there.'

'Perhaps,' Aubrey allowed.

'Well, don't. Sit back. Relax. Think about how you're not going to make a fool of yourself when you see her.'

'Believe me, George, I'm always thinking that.'