Chapter Twenty-One
Lord Chester had slipped into the wood, watching the crowd slowly disperse and return to the house.
Monroe had been rowed to the other side of the lake and was slowly walking round to this side of it.
At least he would be able to slip into the wood unseen.
Though, what they were to do at this point, he did not know.
Finally, the lakeside had gone quiet and Monroe arrived, his squelching footsteps notifying the wood of his approach.
“Why did you sink my boat?” he said petulantly.
“It was not supposed to be your boat. You said his was the boat closest.”
“Closest to the house.”
“Yes, well I thought you meant closest to the wood.”
“I could have won the thing if it were not for sinking.”
“Do you really believe that?” Lord Chester asked.
“A little bit.”
“Well you did not win, or finish, or find any eggs. So, what are we to do now? We are both to end penniless. How are we to live? I cannot live without funds.”
Monroe appeared very thoughtful.
Chester wondered if Monroe was actually having a thought. It was an outlandish idea, Monroe was not generally inclined to thinking, but then one never knew when a miracle would appear.
“I heard something,” Monroe said. “But I do not know if we dare…”
“What is it? What did you hear?”
“Last night, I was outside taking in the air after I was led out of the billiards tournament. Because of my eye. Took a bottle of port out of the drawing room and tucked myself into a little corner to nurse my wounds. I thought the cool air might be efficacious for the swelling. Two footmen who had served at the ladies’ dinner were talking about how it was a very great secret that the eggs contained jewels.
Apparently, the queen spent a fortune on the project. ”
Lord Chester’s nails dug into his palms. Who had got the most eggs, by a mile? Harrelston. Harrelston was poised to walk off with a hefty dowry and a pile of jewels. It was positively maddening. Why should he have them?
Then he paused. Why, indeed, should he have them? Harrelston had the jewels for now, but that did not necessarily mean he would keep them. If they could get their hands on them, they could be sold.
He had no idea what might be the worth of what the queen had put forward, but as it was the queen it must bring in a tidy sum. It would bring in at least enough to tide them over while they were trying to come up with another plan.
In the worst case, it would tide them over for enough time to get his estate in order and back to producing money again.
Once his mother and father, and his horrible grandmother, were out of the way, they could set up shop in Portland Place next season and figure things out from there.
Maybe they could gamble their way back to prosperity.
His life had once felt as if there were endless roads to choose from.
He might go this way, or that way, or change his mind and backtrack to go another way.
All roads were open to him. For months, roads had been disappearing into the ether and now he was left with just one.
Get his hands on those jewels and get out of Kent.
Why not? He could not be caught. Nobody but Monroe even knew he was here.
He paused. His parents knew. They thought he was staying in the house as an invited guest. Still, they would not imagine he’d stolen jewels.
Even if they did imagine it, he would just tell them he’d never gone to Kent.
He’d just used it as an excuse to visit Annie Wister.
Then they would hear it verified that he’d never been there, and that would be that.
They would be disgusted with him, but they would not pin the disappearing jewels on him. Nobody would.
“It’s our only option. We have to get our hands on those jewels. How can we do it, though? Are they in Harrelston’s room? Can you slip in there while the ball is on?”
Monroe shook his head. “He does not have them, two footmen took them. Didn’t you see? They put them all in a sack.”
Lord Chester had not seen that. He’d probably been too busy watching Monroe sink to the depths with his coat on fire. “They’ll probably deliver them to Lady Dudmore’s rooms, or worse, to the queen.”
“Harrelston will not even yet know they contain jewels. My guess is that Lady Dudmore will make some announcement about it at the ball. She’ll bring them there.”
“Then all we can do is observe until we see our moment. I will lurk outside. You keep track of where they are. We must find a moment to snatch them. You can hand them over to me and I will take them back to the inn. They can search the house high and low to no effect. They will be long gone.”
Lord Monroe nodded while wringing out his coattails. “I guess we do not have a choice, though I do not like to find myself a jewel thief. Who knew it would come to this?"
"It should never have come to this, but for other people making things difficult. But here we are, Monroe. Daring men adapt to current conditions. This is our current condition and so this evening, we will adapt.”
“The other thing is,” Monroe said, “the oarsmen who rowed me in were saying how Lady Dudmore had hired them to come back at dawn and collect any eggs left floating in the water.”
Of course! Not all the eggs would have been collected!
“They are all trudging off now, having left their boats on the banks. They don’t know there is a fortune to be found out there.
Go back to the house, get ahold of what Harrelston’s got.
I will take out a rowboat, and Harrelston’s net, and collect what’s been left bobbing in the lake. "
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Beatrix’s costume was not as bad as she supposed it could be.
She was to go as an owl. She had a feathered cape courtesy of Lady Dudmore’s costume room, and Lydia had fashioned two feathery little ears by wrapping her topaz bandeau in a strip of brown velvet and using small brown feathers they bought in the village.
She did not suppose the feathers were from an owl, but it was the best she could do.
She felt rather floaty, as Lord Harrelston had made such a point of asking for the first dance. And asking her father too! She did not know the steps to the Russian Ambassador’s waltz, but she put her trust in Lord Harrelston.
How magnificent he’d been at the regatta. As the other gentlemen were struggling, he’d just sailed along, scooping up eggs with his net. He’d looked positively carefree, as if it was no trick at all.
She was most impressed that he’d made a net. He was so clever and enterprising. Beatrix felt as if there was nothing he could not manage. He could be trusted and relied upon.
Lydia stood back and surveyed her efforts after setting the bandeau in her hair. “It looks surprisingly good.”
Beatrix peeked in the glass. Well, it was not terrible, in any case.
The countess came through the connecting door.
“Are we ready to go down? Your father has left us in the lurch. He was ready a half hour ago and said he desperately needed a glass of claret to recover from the nighttime regatta.” The countess laughed.
“I told him to go down, he’s been very good about things so far that I cannot fault him. ”
The countess was dressed as, well it was not clear. She wore a fur of undetermined origin and her hair was wrapped in a brown velvet turban.
“I can see you wonder what I am supposed to be,” the countess said in response to Beatrix’s stare. “I hardly know and do not care. Let’s say I’m a doe and call it a day. You look charming, Beatrix. Let us hope Lord Harrelston perceives it.”
Beatrix did not answer, but Lydia nodded vigorously.
“Gracious, what is that book?”
Beatrix had forgotten to hide her gothic novel under her pillow. “Oh, that is the book I borrowed from Lady Dudmore’s library.”
The countess picked it up and examined it, reading through the first page. “This is the sort of thing that will give you nightmares. However, you are of an age to decide for yourself.”
And just like that, the shackles of Miss Sprite’s approval of her reading material were thrown off.
It was rather funny that it should happen in such a manner.
After reading the first pages, she was not certain she wished to proceed.
All the longing for a gothic tale seemed less interesting now that she tried it and nobody cared about it.
They made their way downstairs and to the ballroom.
Lady Dudmore had decorated the room to appear as a fanciful wood.
There were tall branches propped against the walls, some with fashioned wool birds perched on their branches.
Only every other of the chandeliers were lit, giving the ballroom the appearance of being in twilight.
The sideboards were covered in brown felt with leaves and grass artfully strewn around the dishes.
Even the orchestra had come ready for a forest ball.
They were all dressed in brown and green with caps sporting a jaunty feather.
As to the food contained on those sideboards, there were more pickled vegetables, which Beatrix supposed were to seem rustic.
Fortunately, there were also the more expected items and a plentiful array of wines, lemonade, and punch.
Contained in this forest of a room were various of Lady Dudmore’s guests milling about in outlandish costumes. Most were on the unattractive side, but for Lady Margaret, who had somehow secured the costume of a swan, she was lovely.
The atmosphere was strange, but it also felt rather romantic.
And then, there he was. Lord Harrelston. He looked a great beast in a rather shaggy fur cloak with two slits for his arms.
“Lady Beatrix,” he said. “Before you inquire, I am a badger, such as you see me.”
Beatrix laughed. “I am an owl. They are supposed to be very wise so I cannot say my costume suitably represents me. I’ve not had enough time in the world to gain a lot of wisdom.”