"Aunt Louisa,
you must come to the point," said Lady Rowena firmly. "You scolded me
for dancing with Brayleigh last night and ordered me not to do so again. I
believe you should at least tell me why."
Louisa Belmont
stirred nervously and peered at her niece over the rim of her teacup. She was a
thin lady of rather indeterminate age who wore a look of perpetual worry on her
face. This look had not eased any since she had taken charge of Rowena, who she
found to be sweet and loving, but regrettably headstrong.
"I told you, he
is not a suitable partner for a young lady such as yourself," she
answered, as firmly as she could.
"Nonsense."
Rowena buttered a piece of toast and then looked up, a martial glint in her
eyes. "I haven't encountered Brayleigh before, but I know that his family
is ancient and his wealth is staggering. He is invited to all the best houses. There
is no reason why I shouldn't be polite to him."
Louisa's hand shook
as she placed her teacup back on its saucer. "It simply won't do. Brayleigh
is a man about town. He shows no interest in marriageable young women. If you
are seen with him it will cause unpleasant talk, and as for his dancing with no
one else last night--well, the sort of speculation that will give rise to would
be most disagreeable."
"I thought it
was rather an honor to have him show such partiality," countered Rowena. "I
had the distinct impression that many ladies present were jealous."
"That is as may
be, but you would hardly want to draw such undesirable attention to yourself. You
are here to find a respectable husband, not entangle yourself with a
disreputable rake." Louisa looked down the long, highly polished table at
her husband, who was attending to his breakfast with deep concentration. "Jonathan,
do tell her that she must mind me."
Lord Belmont looked
up from his eggs and fixed Rowena with a watery blue eye. "Listen to your
aunt, Rowena," he muttered.
Rowena laughed. "I'll
listen if you'll give me some sort of reasonable explanation, Aunt Louisa. Indeed,
I don't mean to be disobliging, but I sense a mystery here. Lady Jersey
approached me last night and made a number of comments about Brayleigh that
left me totally at sea."
Lady Belmont gasped
and clasped her hands in front of her thin bosom. "What did she say? Goodness,
we are ruined. I told you that man would stop at nothing, didn't I, Jonathan?"
Rowena blinked at
this response. "I knew there was more going on than you had told me. Whatever
is it about Brayleigh that so alarms you?"
"What did Lady
Jersey say?" repeated Lady Belmont anxiously.
"She said that
it was not at all odd that I seemed to have captured the attention of Lord
Brayleigh, as he doubtless wished to add more Arlingby belongings to his
collection." Rowena took a bite of her toast. "I had no idea at all
how to respond. I felt a complete fool."
"Oh, my heart,"
announced Lady Louisa, clutching her handkerchief between bloodless fingers. "Whatever
shall we do? All the
ton
will be speaking of this now. I had hoped it
was decently buried."
"So there is an
intrigue," said Rowena cheerfully. "You must tell me all about it,
Aunt Louisa, or I shall positively encourage Brayleigh the next time I see him."
Louisa moaned. "Rowena,
please be sensible. The man is thirty-five and very experienced in the ways of
the world. He has had a long string of mistresses and his manner of amassing
his collection is infamous. Nothing is safe if he wants it. Surely you cannot
wish to associate yourself with such a man."
"But even
Brayleigh must marry sometime," observed Rowena airily. "Perhaps I
will see if I can catch him. He is both wealthy and fascinating, and I would be
the envy of all the ladies if I succeeded." She smiled at her aunt
teasingly, but her head was full of the very masculine attractions of Lord
Brayleigh. Her waist still seemed to tingle where he had touched it the night
before.
"You'd best tell
her," growled Lord Belmont suddenly. "If she doesn't hear it from a
gossip, she'll nose it out herself. The chit's too curious for her own good."
"Precisely."
Rowena smiled dazzlingly at her uncle. "You see, Aunt Louisa, you have no
choice."
Lady Belmont heaved a
sigh, and then frowned at Rowena. "If I tell you, will you promise to stay
away from Brayleigh?"
Rowena considered the
question. She wrinkled her nose. "I cannot promise that before you tell
me," she said thoughtfully. "But if I think your reasons are good, of
course I will stay away from him. I'm not a fool, Aunt Louisa."
"Your father
allowed you to become far too impertinent," pronounced Lady Belmont. "It
will be the undoing of you yet, Rowena. He should have allowed me to bring you
out when you were eighteen and gotten you decently married instead of keeping
you locked up at Wroxton with him until he died. He could have ruined your
chances of finding a suitable husband, addling your head with all those books
that he was forever studying."
"The story, Aunt
Louisa?" prodded Rowena, refusing to be diverted.
"Very well."
Louisa wiped her mouth and dropped her napkin on the table. "It has to do
with your brother."
Rowena put down her
toast and looked at Lady Belmont, her eyes wide with astonishment. "Malcolm?
But Malcolm has been dead for twelve years."
Lady Belmont squirmed
in her seat. She gave her husband an anguished glance, but he kept his head
down, ignoring both his wife and his niece.
"Malcolm isn't
dead, Rowena. I believe he is alive and living on the Continent."
The delicate pink in
Rowena's cheeks faded. "Alive? Why has no one told me?"
"We all thought
it best to let you believe he died," said Lady Belmont. "After all,
he can never come home, and it is best if he is not discussed. It was such a
terrible scandal."
"Does all of
Society know he is alive?" asked Rowena. "What an idiot I must look."
"Oh, it is often
presumed he is dead," said Lady Belmont reassuringly. "Though there
are stories that he is occasionally seen in Venice or Rome. But he can never
return to England. That is why when your papa died your cousin Felix became the
next Earl of Wroxton. Malcolm is the rightful heir, of course, but the world
has a short memory, until someone like Brayleigh insists on dredging up the
past."
Rowena gave her aunt
a puzzled look. "Forgive me, Aunt, but you aren't shedding any light on
the issue. Why was I told Malcolm is dead, and what does Brayleigh have to do
with it? Did they fight a duel?"
"Nothing so
ordinary, child. Why, a duel would have quickly been forgotten. No, it's much
worse." Lady Belmont's voice sank to a whisper.
"Then you must
tell me, Aunt," said Rowena tartly. "I will try not to faint."
"This is not
something to make light of," complained Lady Belmont. "Sometimes I
think you have no sensibility at all, Rowena. The whole difficulty came about
because of a pearl."
"A pearl?"
"Precisely. A very
valuable pearl from India or some such outlandish place. It is the size of a
walnut, and has been in your father's family for generations. It even has a
name; the Pearl of - well, I cannot remember, as it is all just nonsense. The
legend is that a distant ancestor cut it from the crown of a French king in the
Hundred Year's War. Your grandfather willed it to Malcolm. It never looked like
much to me, but I gather it was quite ancient and very valuable. And so of
course Brayleigh had to have it." Lady Belmont shook her head.
"For his
collection," said Rowena.
"Precisely."
Lady Belmont waved her hands in the air. "That man is mad about rare
objects. I sometimes think it is quite unnatural. What does he do with all of
it, after all? How many musty old paintings and statues can one actually use?"
"I suppose that
depends on how large one's house is," murmured Rowena.
"Well, Brayleigh
Park is a huge pile of stone, to be sure," mused Lady Belmont. "And
yet, a masterpiece in every room? One would think something a bit more modern
might alleviate some of the gloom."
"Aunt Louisa,
you are straying from the point. Did Lord Brayleigh buy the pearl from Malcolm?"
"Oh, Malcolm
absolutely refused to sell it," Lady Belmont assured her. "He was
fond of your grandfather, and the pearl had belonged to the family for
generations. He took to carrying it about with him in a small box he had
specially made for it, just to taunt Brayleigh. It made him furious. And then
one night, when Malcolm was playing in one of those terrible gaming houses, he
lost it to Alfred Ingram."
"Malcolm
gambled?" asked Rowena.
"Well, he was
very young, and all young men are occasionally foolish. He was drunk and had
lost all his money, and he pledged the pearl," said Lady Belmont. "Not
that I am excusing him, of course. Still, he meant to redeem it, and went the
next day to do so. But Ingram refused to give it up. He claimed that Malcolm
had pledged the pearl itself, not its value."
"What a terrible
man," said Rowena calmly. "I trust Malcolm did not allow Ingram to
get away with this?"
"He was
distraught," continued Lady Belmont. "And then he discovered that
Ingram had kept the pearl because Brayleigh had offered to buy it from him at a
value far above its worth. Malcolm was furious. He remonstrated with Brayleigh,
but Brayleigh would not give way. He was set on having the pearl."
"What a fuss
over a bit of jewelry," murmured Rowena. "The matter seems to have
been blown out of all proportion."
"There was
always a rivalry between Malcolm and Brayleigh," admitted Lady Belmont. "Malcolm
was a year younger than the Earl, and eager to show that he was as dashing and
bold. I fear that your brother was sadly hot-headed."
"Do you mean
that he provoked Brayleigh?" asked Rowena.
"Of course not,"
answered Lady Belmont, shocked. "Malcolm was simply over-eager, my dear. And
Brayleigh was as cold as an alpine icicle even then. He made Malcolm sadly
frustrated."
"But how would
Brayleigh buying the pearl from Ingram make Malcolm leave the country? I don't
understand."
"Well, that is
because there is much more to it." Lady Belmont lowered her voice. Now
that she was telling the story she was enjoying the drama of it. "Malcolm
decided to offer Ingram any sum of money he wanted for the pearl. He was quite
determined that Brayleigh should not have it no matter what the cost. He drove
out to Ingram's house in Merton, and when he arrived, the butler told him
Ingram was walking in the orchard. Malcolm went in search of him, and found him
dead, shot through the head, a pistol on the ground next to him." Lady
Belmont paused for effect.
"Why would
Ingram commit suicide when he had so much money coming to him?" asked
Rowena curiously.
"He didn't kill
himself, he was murdered! And of course, as poor Malcolm stood there, the
servants came running up, having heard the shot. They immediately assumed that
Malcolm had fired the weapon, and it looked very bad for him indeed. The
magistrate meant to charge him immediately, and it was all the family could do
to get him out of the country or he would surely have been hung."
"And the pearl?"
asked Rowena.
"Gone! Absolutely
gone. Malcolm swore he didn't have it, and it wasn't among Ingram's
possessions. Whoever has it is the murderer, of course. And Malcolm believed
that Brayleigh killed Ingram for it, maddened by the thought that Ingram might
return it to Malcolm."
"But why would
Brayleigh kill a man to own something that he could never admit to having?"
asked Rowena. "It makes no sense at all. Malcolm may not have killed
Ingram, but I cannot believe Brayleigh would be so foolish."
"But he is a
collector, child," pointed out Lady Belmont. "It is the ownership
that matters, not the ability to show it. He most likely has it locked away
somewhere, and looks at it only by himself, in the dead of night. The man has a
black heart. Now do you see why you must stay away from him?"
"But there is no
proof that Brayleigh killed Ingram," protested Rowena. "The man I met
last night was arrogant perhaps, but hardly sinister. Malcolm might have
disliked him, but that isn't evidence that he killed anybody."
"But there could
have been no motive for the murder except to obtain the pearl," argued
Lady Belmont. "Nothing else was taken. And no one wanted it except Malcolm
and Brayleigh. Unless you prefer to think your brother a murderer, you must
believe it to be Brayleigh."
"Did Brayleigh
accuse Malcolm of the murder?"
"Not at all."
Lady Belmont grew quite animated as she spoke, color rising to her cheeks. "Indeed,
he urged Malcolm to remain in England and stand trial."
"Then he
believed in Malcolm's innocence," said Rowena. "If he was guilty, he
would surely have been overjoyed to let my brother take the blame."
Lady Belmont shook
her head. "You are entirely too trusting, Rowena. If Malcolm has stood
trial he surely would have been hanged. And then there would have been not a
bit of suspicion cast on Brayleigh. But with Malcolm fleeing, at least the
matter hasn't been settled. Even now many suspect that Brayleigh is the true
murderer."