AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Two months prior to their deaths,” Slayde concurred grimly.
Courtney held up the journal and together they read:
I’m growing old. My skin is coarse from scrubbing and my shoulders are stooped from carrying. I came here a young girl, with grand dreams and a romantic heart. Now, I look in the glass and see a bitter spinster with no future and a housekeeper’s wages. The countess is ten years my senior, yet her skin is smooth, her eyes bright. ’Tis easy to see why. She’s bathed in jewels, showered with attention. While I’m alone, without so much as a decent sum put aside for the future. If there’s one thing life’s taught me, it’s that there’s no justice.
Courtney frowned. “Clearly, Miss Payne was a very unhappy woman.”
“Clearly, she still is,” Slayde muttered. “The question is, what did she do about that unhappiness?”
The muffled sound of approaching footsteps reached their ears, and Slayde’s head came up like a wolf scenting danger.
Courtney held her breath, waiting, as the brisk strides grew closer, reached Miss Payne’s bedchamber…and passed it.
/> She sagged with relief. “I knew Mr. Oridge wouldn’t disappoint us.”
“Even Oridge can keep Miss Payne only so long before she becomes suspicious,” Slayde worried aloud, casting another furtive glance at the closed door. “We can’t take that chance. Nor, obviously, can we take the journal with us and risk Miss Payne’s discovering it missing. So, let’s accelerate this process, skip ahead to dates closer to when the murders took place. Maybe she’ll name names.”
Nodding, Courtney sifted through a few short, inconsequential-looking pages, until she came to the page dated 18 March, 1807, which was covered, top to bottom, with writing.
“Let’s try this,” she murmured.
She hasn’t a clue how humiliating it was for me to ask for that increase in wages. And she refused me. She said I was already earning nearly as much as Siebert. Well, that’s as it should be. I work harder than that aged fool. And to further humiliate me by offering me a loan? I don’t need the money; I’ve earned it. Far more than she’s earned her wardrobe of exquisite gowns or that treasure chest of jewels the earl keeps locked away in the library. Well, I know just who to turn to, just the person to convince Lady Pembourne of my worth. The Viscountess Stanwyk. I’ll approach her. She thinks highly of me; heaven knows she’s always saying how invaluable I am, what an asset I am to Pembourne. And the countess respects her opinions. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll talk to Lady Stanwyk. She’ll understand. She’ll help me.
And then just beneath that, dated 20 March, 1807:
She’s agreed to see me tomorrow. We managed to chat for only a few minutes before Lady Pembourne returned to the salon, but the viscountess said she had the ideal solution to my dilemma. And she smiled so reassuringly when she said it. Perhaps she intends to offer me a position at Stanwyk. More money, a brighter future. I can hardly wait.
“This tells us nothing,” Slayde proclaimed, “Other than the fact that Miss Payne is brazen as well as deceitful. ’Tis inconceivable that she’d consider overstepping her bounds by approaching one of Mother’s peers for assistance—her closest friend, no less.”
“ ’Tis equally odd that Elinore would agree to see her. Given the circumstances, I should think she’d have gone straight to your mother with word of her housekeeper’s faithlessness.”
“She probably did.”
“Then why wasn’t Miss Payne dismissed?” Courtney frowned, skimming ahead only to find page after blank page, devoid of any writing at all. “Now I’m truly at sea. If Miss Payne was so enthralled by her upcoming meeting with Elinore, why didn’t she pen the results of the meeting?”
“Maybe there were none. Maybe she came to her senses and never went to Stanwyk. Or maybe Elinore thought better of her kindness and threw Miss Payne out the moment she arrived.” Slayde grasped Courtney’s arm, tugged her to her feet. “Put the journal back where you found it. It tells us nothing but Miss Payne’s motivation, which I could have guessed anyway. Theft is usually motivated by greed. Let’s go.”
Courtney shook her head, hanging back. “Slayde, there’s too much here that screams discord. Elinore is the essence of protocol. She’d never agree to a meeting with your mother’s housekeeper. Yet, she obviously did just that—Miss Payne might be cold and greedy, but she’s not delusional. And why do her entries stop here? Don’t you find it a tad coincidental that they break off precisely a week before she becomes immersed in a plot to steal your mother’s jewels? Something had to precipitate her involvement—or rather someone—the same someone who instructed her to draw that sketch and send it to Armon. Whoever that was, Miss Payne would have had to meet with him between the twentieth and the twenty-seventh. Yet, there’s no reference in this journal to any such meeting, or any meeting at all, other than the baffling one agreed to by—” Courtney broke off, all the color draining from her face. “God…no.”
“No,” Slayde echoed with a firm shake of his head. “You’re letting your imagination run amok, Courtney. ’Tis impossible.”
“Is it?” she asked in a small, shaken voice. “You’re probably right. I’m probably so overwrought that I’m no longer able to see clearly, so eager to resolve things that I’d stoop to doubting someone Aurora adores—someone I’ve come to consider a friend. If that’s the case, I’ll detest myself when all this is behind us. But, Slayde, we must explore every possibility.” Courtney inhaled sharply. “Suppose Miss Payne did have that meeting with Elinore? Suppose Elinore had a damned good reason not to mention it to your mother? Suppose she offered Miss Payne money, position, Lord knows what else, in exchange for something much more valuable?”
Slayde stared. “The diamond? You think Elinore was after the black diamond?”
“I think whoever orchestrated this scheme was after the black diamond. So, assuming Elmore was guilty, yes, I think she saw a way to acquire that stone.” An agonizing pause. “Not once, but twice. Ten years ago, she was your mother’s dearest friend. For all we know, that was a calculated effort on Elinore’s part, designed to help her learn of the diamond’s whereabouts. When Miss Payne approached her, it provided the perfect opportunity to go after the stone without endangering herself.” That sparked a thought, and Courtney glanced down at the journal, pointing to the March eighteenth entry. “Look. Miss Payne makes mention of your mother’s strongbox of jewels and its location, so she obviously knew of both. If she revealed that to Elinore, Elinore doubtless assumed the strongbox housed the black diamond and decided to go after it. I don’t know where she found and hired Armon, but he was perfect for the role she had in mind. She didn’t count on your parents interrupting his robbery. And then, after all that, the stone wasn’t even there. So she resumed her original plan, only now, with your mother dead, she ingratiated herself with Aurora. How hard do you think that was, given Aurora’s need for affection? And all the while Elinore would feel so utterly safe, knowing you were convinced that Lawrence and Chilton Bencroft were guilty.”
A muscle was working in Slayde’s jaw. “Chilton’s mind snapped a month before my parents’ murders. That’s when he and Lawrence burst into my home, shouting their accusations. Of course I thought they were guilty.” On the heels of his admission, Slayde was assailed by Mr. Scollard’s words of advice, resounding as clearly as if he were speaking them now. Do with your mind what you did with your heart: clear it of the shadows that obstruct your sight. Once you’ve accomplished that, you’ll see what is truly there, not what you choose to see.
Drawing a sharp breath, Slayde met Courtney’s gaze. “The fact is, I was wrong. The Bencrofts weren’t guilty. But I was too blinded by emotion to be objective. I don’t intend to make that mistake again. So let’s follow this theory through.”
Shakily, Courtney nodded.
“What about the second attempt to steal the diamond,” Slayde pursued, “the one that brought you to me?”
“Again, assuming Elinore is guilty, ’twas another perfect opportunity for her to achieve her goal,” Courtney replied. “Aurora was restless, desperate to see the world. You were in India, scheduled to return at what was the height of the London Season. All Elinore had to do was arrange things with her henchmen: Armon would send the ransom notes and make the exchange, Miss Payne would ensure that you hadn’t a clue where Aurora was by seizing the note she left you. Then, Elinore could get her hands on the diamond and no one would be the wiser.”
“But Armon got greedy,” Slayde continued, looking utterly ill. “He undermined Elinore, made the exchange a day early, and fled with the stone.” A pensive pause. “That, however, raises another question. Can you honestly equate the charming woman who takes tea at our home with a ruthless killer? Because whoever hired Armon also shot him down in cold blood. That’s no longer accidental death, Courtney. That’s premeditated murder.”
