Chapter 25 Amelia
Amelia
Tom stood slowly, looking from brother to brother, while they looked around the room in bafflement.
“Damn,” the brother nearest Amelia said, nodding at Connor. “Is he shot?” He looked at Tom. “Did you shoot him?”
“No, I didn’t shoot him,” Tom said. “Duncan did.”
“Duncan shot his own son? And who shot Duncan?”
“Nobody did. He got…” Tom glanced at Amelia. “Knocked out.”
“The hell is going on here?” said the other brother, the taller one, in the gray overcoat. What did Tom say his name was—Rhys? And the other one—the balding one in the blue puffer—was Griffin.
“I could ask you two the same question,” Tom said. He’d lowered the rifle, but he wasn’t putting it down.
The brothers shared a guilty glance.
“Could you all put your damn weapons down,” Amelia said, her hands damp and sticky with Connor’s blood, “and get this poor guy a blanket? He’s shivering.”
No one moved.
“Tom!” she said. “Stand down. These two weren’t involved. Well, not with the body.”
“Body?” Griffin said. “What body?”
“You too!” Amelia said to the brothers. “Rifles down! I’ve had quite enough of guns aimed in my direction today. One of you go and check on Duncan, would you?”
Tom gazed at her in astonishment. Even she was a little surprised at her boldness.
It was almost an out-of-body experience, this resolve she suddenly had to take charge.
But she was sick of being pushed around.
Sick of being the victim, the scared one.
“I think I can shed some light on what’s going on here,” she explained, looking at the Pritchards.
“What these two were doing in the abbey—and it wasn’t anything to do with your grandfather’s body, Tom. ”
Tom warily placed the gun on the floor and took off his coat.
“His granddad’s body?” Rhys said. “The bloke who disappeared years ago?”
“Lie down, mate,” Tom said to Connor, who was fighting to sit up.
“Relax.” He dropped to his knees beside Connor, covering him to mid-chest with the coat.
“Can I take over?” he said to Amelia. She shuffled aside.
Tom was ex-military—he would know first aid for bullet wounds.
She carefully transferred her very bloody coat to him.
“Dad,” Connor said weakly, reaching out.
“He’s okay.” Tom lifted Amelia’s coat for a second to look at the wound, and rolled Connor slightly to check his back. “Just knocked out.”
“How bad is it, Tom?” Connor said. “Hurts like a bitch.”
“Looks like it’s gone through your shoulder. You’ll be okay.” Tom’s voice strained as he lifted Connor and rearranged the coat to cover both wounds. “I’ve got you, mate.” Amelia could hear several layers of emotion in Tom’s voice.
“Who the hell are you, anyway?” Griffin said to Amelia, warily putting down his rifle, and gesturing at his brother to do the same.
“I’m Tom’s … houseguest.”
Tom raised his eyebrows. “Houseguest?”
“Rhys and Griffin were looking for something,” she explained, “and I think I know what it was.”
In the distance, multiple sirens wailed.
“Someone called the police?” Tom said.
“Well, Rhys did, but ages ago,” said Griffin, kneeling before Duncan and checking his pulse.
“Like, yesterday. We told the sergeant we’d heard gunshots and a big crash and your phone was off and your house was deserted and we couldn’t find you, but she laughed and asked if we’d been into the …
salmonella juice? She said you were just tripping! ”
“You came after us with guns!” Amelia said.
“Hang on now, we only went and got the guns because we were freaked out by all the gunshots and couldn’t find you. And you were the ones firing at us!”
“What?” Tom said. “When?”
“Last night! When Bungo took off, and we were trying to find him. You were taking potshots at us in the woods. It was bloody scary!”
Tom groaned. “I thought it was you guys shooting at us. Must have been Duncan, thinking you were us.”
“You tried to break into our house! And you stole our bloody quad bike and crashed it!” Rhys said.
He took off his coat and bunched it up under Duncan’s head, as Griffin moved the man into recovery position.
“We were worried about you. We didn’t know what the bejesus was going on—still don’t.
We heard gunshots again just now, and the air raid siren started up, so we thought we’d better come back.
We tried the sergeant again but didn’t get an answer. ”
Connor weakly raised his hand. “I told Xanthe to call the police, as soon as she got into coverage.”
“But we heard you talking to her,” Amelia said. “You told her what Duncan said to say—that Tom and I had wandered off.”
“That was just because I figured Dad was listening. I took her out of earshot and told her what was really happening, and to get the police here. I honestly never thought he’d try to…
I was calling his bluff. I’m so sorry, Tom.
I’ve mucked so much up. I helped bury your grandfather, and then I saw you carry the load—not knowing what happened to him, thinking it was your fault.
I’m sick of the guilt. I don’t care if I lose everything.
I mean, I care, but… Turns out most of it wasn’t mine in the first place.
I just… Whatever happens to me, will you look after Xanthe and the baby? ”
“Shh,” Tom said. “Of course I will. She’s family.”
“No,” came a feeble voice. Amelia gasped. Duncan’s eyes were open, and Griffin was dabbing a cut on his scalp. He looked near dead. “I’ll go to jail, whatever, but you need to deny knowing anything about it, son. Tom’ll back you up, won’t you Tom?”
“Dad, no,” Connor said, straining to turn. “We need to tell the truth. All of it.” He looked up at Tom. “There was never going to be a good outcome, was there? It’s a bloody mess.”
“What’s done is done,” Duncan said. “What purpose would it serve if you went to jail?”
“Justice isn’t always about serving a purpose.
I work in the law, Dad. Justice is a thing I believe in.
There will be consequences for what I’ve done.
I’ll face that. I don’t have a choice. It’s guilt I can’t face anymore.
” Connor grabbed for Tom, finding his elbow.
“Tom, I know I’ve messed it all up but… See, Eddie, he was my mate.
But you … you were always my little brother. ”
Tom’s eyes watered, which made Amelia’s sting.
“Son, I…” Duncan’s eyes rolled back, and his chin drooped onto his chest.
“Dad!”
“He’s still breathing,” Rhys said, checking. Griffin took off his jacket and laid it over Duncan.
Amelia looked at Tom, in panic. She didn’t care what Duncan had done. She hadn’t wanted to kill anyone.
“You did what you needed to do,” Tom said to her, his voice almost eclipsed by the approaching sirens. “That was quite a blow you delivered.”
“The hardest mineral known to mankind.”
“Huh?”
“That’s what Griffin and Rhys were looking for—the countess’s lost diamond. Am I right?” she said to the brothers.
They exchanged guilty looks.
“I’m not following,” Tom said.
Amelia looked up at the tapestry. The countess looked back, approvingly this time.
“That was the epiphany I had when we were stoned. I only just remembered. You see how the diamond in the center of the countess’s crown looks irregular?
I assumed it was just the pattern of the weave, the way the fibers have degraded and sagged and become misshapen.
But that doesn’t make sense, because everywhere else it’s perfect.
It’s an amazing piece. Wool and silk, with silver-gilt threads.
I wouldn’t be at all surprised if it’s a Paul Saunders, from his Soho workshop.
You can see there’s an Oriental inspiration in the soft definition of the trees.
And do you know how rare it is to have a piece that old that’s still displayed in the spot it was made for?
It’s lucky it’s such a dark room—means it didn’t fade and discolor as much as it otherwise might. ”
“Amelia? The epiphany?”
“Oh,” she said, shaking herself. “Yes. The shape of the diamond in the crown—it’s exactly how it’s supposed to be.
The diamond in the legend, the one that was lost…
It must have been a raw diamond, irregular.
” She met Tom’s gaze. He was still holding Connor’s wounds—the entry and exit.
“What does it remind you of—the shape in the crown?”
He looked up at it, frowning. Connor strained to look, too.
Tom’s mouth dropped open. “Bloody hell.”
“I’m guessing these guys…” Amelia nodded toward the brothers. “… saw the old photo of it in the upcycler’s social media post and knew what it was.” With her free hand, Amelia pulled Tom’s paperweight from her pocket.
The brothers swore in unison.
Tom laughed. “Oh no. You think…? No, that’s just some trinket. My great-great-grandmother found it after the fire—”
“Of 1876,” Amelia finished. “And that may well be the case, but it wasn’t melted glass, fused together in the fire. It was the missing diamond.”
“But that’s way too big for a diamond.”
“The Sovereign Diamond,” Griffin said. “One of the biggest ever found. Worth forty million quid, at least. There’s paintings of it in the National Gallery that show it more clearly. It’s been lost for centuries. A proper mystery.”
“Wait, how much?” Amelia said. “Are you sure?”
Tom laughed. “You’re pulling my leg, right? All of you.” He looked slowly from Amelia to Griffin and Rhys, and his expression turned serious. “Well, holy shit.”
“We weren’t going to nick it, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Rhys said, checking Duncan’s pulse. “It was a ye olde treasure hunt. A bit of fun to sneak into the old house and find the lost diamond before some arsehole tech bro got his hands on it. We’re not thieves.”
Tom raised his eyebrows.
“Dope growers, maybe, but not thieves. It was just for a lark.”
“You broke into my house!”
“Your front door was unlocked!”
“It’s still breaking in. You sent your dogs after us!”
Griffin laughed heartily. “Bungo and MacWomble? Worst they’d do is sit and look at you until you gave them a snack. You didn’t seriously think we were… You’re mad!”
“You locked poor Bungo up in your chicken coop!” Rhys said. “He was covered in bloody feathers by the time we got to him.”
“But we heard you in the wood, talking about getting money.”
“Money?” Griffin looked confused for a second and then seemed to connect the dots. “We thought if we found the diamond, you might give us a wee finder’s fee, that’s all. I swear it, Tom!”
Tom tsked. “You’ll have to ask the billionaire about that.” He closed his eyes a second. “Bollocks. The diamond—it’ll belong to him.”
“No,” Connor said faintly. “It wasn’t on the register.
The valuers looked right past it, along with the rest of us.
And wouldn’t matter if it was, if it guarantees you the funds to pay off your debts.
The caveat is still there—you can stop the sale.
” His voice weakened. “I think I need to stop talking now.”
“Yeah, take it easy, mate,” Tom said. “Help is coming.”
Tom met Amelia’s gaze with an expression somewhere between what the hell and this changes everything. From the quick tracking of his pupils, she could almost see him recalibrating his future.
“You could stay here,” she said, speaking over the noise of multiple vehicles gunning up the drive, sirens wailing.
But do I want to? his eyes seemed to say.
He had a future laid out, if he wanted it.
A home. A frame to put around his life. Amelia couldn’t help feeling envious.
She’d always known a home was important to her, but it was only now, sitting here with a stranger’s blood drying on her hands, that she realized the absence of a home made her feel like she couldn’t visualize a future.
She couldn’t put her life in a frame, give it edges, boundaries, context.
She didn’t have a setting for her story.
Not a Pemberley, but not even a Barton Cottage from Sense and Sensibility.
A cavernous groan sounded from the floor above them, much louder than the abbey’s regular noises.
Amelia met Tom’s puzzled glance, and then they looked up.
On the ceiling high above them, a crevice split open in the plaster molding, accompanied by a sharp crack.
As Amelia watched, the fissure lengthened, creeping to the center of the ceiling.
A plaster rosette flaked off and smashed to the tiles beside her, pulverizing into dust. Another moan, and the chandelier swayed, its crystal pendants tinkling, sending flickers of reflected daylight around the room.
“Get everyone out of the way!” Tom shouted, as a loud rumbling began.
Amelia dashed to help him move Connor, as Griffin and Rhys did the same with Duncan. Bits of plaster pelted them—roses, sashes, medallions. The rumbling grew into a roar and after one more great crack, the chandelier crashed onto the stairs and collapsed in a smashing, clanging heap.
A cloud of dust and debris swept over them. Tom and Amelia leaned over Connor until it settled.
“Seriously?” Griffin said, as the noise waned. “The bloody chandelier now?”
“Everyone okay?” Tom called, checking on Connor and looking over to the others. He grabbed Amelia’s hand. “And you? Are you okay?”
Amelia couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah,” she said, wiping grains of plaster from her eye. “I’m actually okay.”
Tom stared up in wonder, and Amelia followed his gaze. A huge hole had opened up in place of the chandelier. Through a gauze of dust, the dome at the top of the third story was visible.
“You’re a little late to the party, Miss H.,” Tom said. “But cheers for the thought.”
“Blimey!” Sergeant Kamdar said, arriving in the doorway. She planted her hands on her hips, looking around. “Seems things took a turn for the crazy, around here.”