Page 143

Ptolemy was lying beneath the table with the unmistakable expression of a dog who had eaten considerably more than his share.

Baines inclined his head and withdrew. He had reached the corridor when Miss Hammond’s uncertain response returned to him. There had been something in her manner which suggested more than simple forgetfulness.

He turned back towards the morning room. Before he could enter, Lady Dunsmore’s voice carried through the partly open door.

“Eleanor, I have told you not to trouble yourself with matters which do not concern you.”

Miss Hammond answered too softly for him to distinguish the words.

“Then kindly remember what I have said,” Lady Dunsmore replied.

Baines stood motionless. The exchange might have concerned any number of domestic disagreements—Lady Dunsmore was perfectly capable of reprimanding her sister for misplacing a shawl or arranging flowers in the wrong vase. Yet he had heard enough to know that Miss Hammond was distressed. Someone had been attempting to implicate her in a conspiracy. Baines turned and strode towards the library. He would send a discreet message to Renforth at the cottage.

Whatever explanation Judith might eventually offer for her absence, he had no intention of waiting to discover it.

For the first time since arriving at Blackthorn, he found himself wishing that Judith would appear merely to scold him for interfering in her affairs. He would have welcomed the lecture—he would have welcomed any indication that she was safe.

The corridors, however, remained eerily silent. Judith had vanished without leaving a word.

CHAPTER 20

Judith had never believed that intelligence and good sense were necessarily found in equal measure. Her uncle possessed a considerable quantity of the former when discussing horses and almost none of the latter when purchasing them. Lord Cranford considered himself an authority upon every subject known to man, although his opinions rarely survived the inconvenience of examination. As for Lady Dunsmore, Judith had long regarded her as a woman whose chief talents consisted of complaining, gossiping, and persuading otherwise sensible people to indulge two thoroughly spoiled spaniels.

It was therefore a most disagreeable surprise to discover that Lady Dunsmore was considerably more intelligent than anyone had supposed. The discovery began shortly after dawn, when Judith found Miss Hammond standing outside the small morning parlour with a velvet case clutched against her chest.

“Good heavens, Miss Hammond. Have you been waiting long?” The older woman started so violently that Judith feared she might drop the case.

“Oh, Miss Finch. I had hoped to speak with you before my sister came downstairs.”

“Then you had better come in.”

Miss Hammond managed a faint smile, but her hands trembled as she followed Judith into the room. The morning was chilly, and the fire had not yet been lit. A thin wash of sunlight entered through the eastern windows, illuminating the faded roses of the carpet and the little writing desk where Judith conducted much of her correspondence.

Judith closed the door. “What has happened?”

Miss Hammond placed the velvet case upon the desk. “My sister wishes me to take this to Mr. Pearce for another repair.”

Judith recognized the case immediately.

“The garnet brooch?”

“Yes.”

“I thought Mr. Pearce had repaired it only last week?” She deliberately gave her reply a tone of enquiry.

“He did.” Miss Hammond twisted her handkerchief. “I fear there is something very wrong, Miss Finch.”

Judith opened the case. The brooch lay upon dark velvet, its garnets arranged around a single pearl. She lifted it carefully and examined the clasp.

It appeared perfectly sound. “Has the fastening failed again?”

“No. That is what troubles me.”

Judith looked up.

Miss Hammond drew a breath. “Yesterday, my sister instructed me to take the brooch to Mr. Pearce. When I asked what was wrong with it, she became exceedingly angry. I thought perhaps I had offended her, so I examined the fastening myself.”

“What did you find?”