Chapter 6
Chapter Six
SNOW FELL IN RAGGED WISPS OVER THE BLACK rooftops and cobblestone streets, dressing the town of Inveraray in a foamy white cape.
It fluttered over the gray, choppy waters of Loch Fyne, dancing upon the chilly air before it kissed the frigid water and disintegrated, and piled in frothy layers upon the elaborate hats of the ladies and gentlemen walking through the frosty streets, making them look as if they were balancing enormous cakes upon their heads.
Jack stamped his feet, vainly trying to restore some heat to them.
The boots Genevieve had given him were far too big and the snow had seeped through the worn leather, soaking his stockings.
He wished he had thought to stuff some newspaper in them.
He could not remember ever having a pair of shoes or boots that fit him well.
Over the years he had utilized a variety of techniques for either filling up the excess, covering cracks or relieving blistering pressure.
A cushion of newspaper would have made his boots more comfortable and had the added benefit of increasing their insulation.
Their previous owner had obviously not spent much time standing about in the freezing wet snow, he reflected irritably.
He would have preferred not to do the robbery on such a miserable day.
Fresh snow had the distinct disadvantage of leaving a trail of footprints, particularly if one tried to escape down a previously untrod lane.
It also reduced the number of people milling about and shopping, which would make it difficult for him to lose himself in the crowd once the jewels were safely in his pocket.
Unfortunately, a delay in their plans was impossible.
According to Simon, the bank had insisted upon payment immediately.
Genevieve and Haydon had arranged to meet with the bank manager that very morning; therefore, the children had been excused from their regular studies.
Jack had quickly offered to take them out for a walk in the falling snow, a suggestion that Oliver, Doreen, and Eunice agreed to happily, thinking it would enable them to get their own work done without having all the children getting in their way.
Jack did not mention that they would be going to Inveraray’s main street.
If anyone questioned their presence while they were there, he could easily explain that they were merely enjoying the Christmas decorations adorning the shop windows.
“There’s an old man and his wife in the shop now, looking at a pair of silver candelabra on a table,” reported Grace, returning from her stroll past Mr. Ingram’s window. “Mr. Ingram is helping them.”
“Are they anywhere near the jewelry case?” asked Jack.
Grace shook her head. “The table is at the front of the store.”
“Can we go inside now?” Jamie had been amusing himself by forming little mountains of snow with his boots and then pretending to be a giant and crushing them flat. “I’m cold.”
“Jack said we had to wait until the store was crowded with people,” Annabelle reminded him.
“But we’ve been here forever, and there are never more than one or two people in the shop,” Jamie complained. “Mr. Ingram should try selling something better than all that old stuff—like cups of hot tea and chocolate.”
“Why don’t we go to the tearoom and have something to eat?” suggested Simon. “I’m hungry.”
“You’re always hungry,” teased Charlotte.
“We can’t go to the tearoom—we haven’t any money,” Annabelle pointed out.
“We could go back home and ask Oliver to give us some,” said Simon.
“Oliver’s not about to give us money for tea when we’re already at home,” argued Jamie, scraping together another mountain with his feet. “He’ll just make us sit in the kitchen and eat something that Eunice has made.”
Simon’s mouth began to water. “Maybe she’s made some treacle scones.”
“We’re not goin’ home,” Jack said firmly, “until we’ve done what we came to do. Now pipe down and pay attention.”
The children obediently quieted.
“Mr. Ingram is havin’ a bit of a slow day, so we’re going to have to go ahead with our plan with just that old couple in the store. Does everybody know what they have to do?”
They nodded.
“Good. Make lots of noise as you go in—we don’t want Mr. Ingram to think you’re tryin’ to sneak about.
I’ll come in by myself a moment later. Grace will keep watch for me while I get into the case.
The rest of you do whatever you have to do to keep Mr. Ingram’s attention away from me.
The most important thing to remember is, if anything goes wrong and I’m caught, all of you get out of there as fast as you can.
Don’t try to help me—understand? Just keep movin’ and go home. ”
Charlotte’s eyes widened. “But Jack—”
“If you won’t swear to me that you’ll do this, we’ll bloody well go home right now,” Jack snapped.
Charlotte dropped her gaze to her wet boots.
Jack instantly regretted his tone. He had to learn to be more gentle with Charlotte, he realized in frustration.
She didn’t have the same confidence and resilience that the others enjoyed.
It was clear to him that she had been deeply affected by the life she had led before Genevieve took her in.
He had no desire to further erode her already fragile countenance.
“I’ll be fine, Charlotte,” he assured her, his voice low and edged with apology. He reached over and tipped her chin up, making her look at him. “Trust me.”
Charlotte stared at him, her gaze glistening with emotion.
He held her chin a moment, staring deep into the swirl of her brown-and-green eyes.
There was fear there, fear and regret and something else that he could not quite understand.
He frowned and studied her longer, holding the delicate round of her jaw in his fingers.
Snow was drifting like goose down around her, forming a lacy pattern on her hat and coat and in the auburn silk of her hair.
A flake settled upon her cheek, an exquisite work of the finest frozen lace.
She seemed more perfect to him in that moment than any of the ladies in the paintings Genevieve had taken such pains to show to him; more beautiful than anything he had ever seen.
Her skin was cool and pale, but there was sufficient heat to melt the intricate snowflake, turning it into a single, silver tear.
And suddenly he understood what he was seeing in Charlotte’s enormous eyes.
Charlotte cared about him.
A slender ray of warmth shot through him.
“Everything is going to be fine, Charlotte,” he said gruffly. He released his hold on her chin to gently brush the silvery tear from her cheek with the back of his fingers. Then he cleared his throat. “I promise.”
“I’m getting cold,” complained Jamie, rubbing his stiff little hands together.
“We’re going now,” Jack decided. “Keep your hats low and your scarves up around your face, so no one gets a clear view of any of you. The snow is comin’ down hard, so people won’t think it strange that you’re bundled up.
When you see me movin’ away from the jewelry case, that’s your signal to leave.
Don’t race out in a pack—go to the door nice and slow, as if you’ve finished whatever you were lookin’ at and are now moving on to another shop.
We’ll meet by the church at the end of the street and go back home together. Does everybody understand?”
They nodded.
“Good.” He swept a critical gaze over them, trying to be certain that there was nothing about any of their appearances that would give anyone pause.
They were all reasonably well dressed, with freshly scrubbed faces and cheeks chilled pink from the cold.
None of them looked like a ragged, starving urchin who might be about to filch something.
“Let’s go, then.”
A little brass bell tinkled cheerfully as the door opened, heralding their arrival.
The six children poured into the shop, giggling and chattering as they made a great show of stamping the snow from their boots and brushing it from their shoulders.
Once they had given Mr. Ingram time to appraise them and realize they were relatively well dressed and were not trying to escape his notice, they each wandered into different areas of the store, so that the shopkeeper would have to keep shifting his gaze to keep track of what each of them was doing.
Jamie went to stare in awe at the gleaming suit of armor that stood guard in one corner of the store, while Annabelle adopted a tragic expression as she studied a painting of a heartbroken young woman cradling her murdered lover in her lap.
Charlotte limped over to a bookcase and became engrossed in several leather-bound volumes that had their titles stamped in gold on the spines, and Simon frowned at a statue of two naked men battling each other.
Why the artist had chosen to have them fight without any clothes on was absolutely beyond his comprehension—he thought they looked ridiculous.
Grace went to the back of the store and made a show of examining a pretty set of blue-and-white plates that had been carefully arranged upon an elaborately carved sideboard, not too far from where the jewelry cabinet stood.
“…and you’re absolutely sure, Mr. Ingram, that these candelabra are from the palace of Versailles?” inquired the bloated gentleman in the black felt hat and enormous overcoat.
His flaccid-faced wife apparently suffered from an equal fondness for rich foods, and had barely been able to squeeze her colossal, crinolined backside into the allotted space beside the polished mahogany table upon which the enormous pair of candelabra were displayed.