“Benedick’s lot are in quarantine,” Portia advised him. “Measles. They look to be recovered by Christmas, but if they come, Olivia and her family will not.”
I blinked at her. It was not like Benedick to be at odds with any of our siblings. Most of us quarrelled with one another from time to time, but Benedick was usually the only one on speaking terms with everybody.
“Olivia’s children infected his with measles,” Portia explained. “Benedick made some remark about the stupidity of taking one’s children visiting when they’ve come out in spots, and she took it rather badly.”
“I see,” I said, poking at a piece of lamb. “What of the rest of them?”
Portia laid down her fork and began to tick them off on her fingers.
“Bellmont is in London for the little season. He has parliamentary duties and cannot get away. Olivia and Benedick we have spoken of. Nerissa is unwell,” she said with a lift of the brows. I took her meaning instantly. Unlike most of our sisters, Nerissa did not bear children easily. For every healthy living child, there had been a handful of miscarriages. She had adopted the habit of taking to her bed during each pregnancy, and if she was breeding again, we would not see her again until the child was christened.
“Lysander, Plum, you, and I are here, Julia,” she said, nodding at me and continuing to tick off her fingers. “Beatrice is being set upon by all of her husband’s family. They are descending to Cornwallen massefor the holiday, and there is no chance of her escaping them. That leaves only Valerius, and he has not yet made up his mind whether to spend Christmas in the bosom of his family or dosing the lower orders in Whitehall.”
“So many Marches,” Violante murmured.
“Indeed,” Father replied. I did not know if Lysander had informed him yet of Violante’s expectations, but from the kindly way Father was regarding her, I suspected he had. Father adored grandchildren, and the only thing that made him happier than being covered in them was escaping them and spending an afternoon locked in his study while they overran the Abbey like savages.
At least that was one family matter settled, I thought as I stared irritably at my peas. I could not imagine why I should feel so twitchy, so bad-tempered. I could have cheerfully thrown my cutlery at someone’s head, and it was only when the dessert dishes were being cleared that I realised it was because I was frustrated. Luncheon, a lengthy family affair, had interrupted my burgeoning investigation, and what I wanted most, what Icraved,was time alone to puzzle over the pieces I had collected and fit them together.
The coffee was replenished, and I had just made up my mind to excuse myself when Aquinas entered, Morag hard on his heels. Aquinas’ expression was as carefully schooled as ever, but his wiry grey hair was ever so slightly dishevelled, and his cuffs were not shot. Morag looked faintly deranged.
Aquinas made straight for my father, bent to his ear, and whispered. Father listened, then murmured, half to himself, “Good God, not this too.”
He waved a hand. “Tell Lady Julia. Something ought to be done to recover them.” He covered his face with a hand.
Around the table, cups and spoons stilled, conversation halted. Every face swivelled to face Aquinas expectantly. He cleared his throat.
“I regret to inform you,” he began, but Morag interrupted, her bony cheeks hot with indignation.
“Something of great value is missing in this house!” she announced to the assembled company. She paused, glancing slowly around the table, holding everyone’s gaze in a gesture Sarah Siddons would have envied. When she had circled the entire table, her eyes flashing, she lifted her chin and proclaimed, “The Grey Pearls have been stolen!”
THE EIGHTEENTH CHAPTER
All that you meet are thieves.
—Timon of Athens
To say that pandemonium broke out would be an understatement of the grossest kind. Naturally, I blamed Morag.
I rose and took her by the elbow, dragging her toward the potted palm in the corner. “What do you mean by coming in here and making an announcement like a character in a melodrama? What must our guests think?”
She wrenched her elbow from my grasp and folded her arms over her chest. “There is a dead man stinking in the game larder,” she reminded me sourly. “I hardly think a few missing pearls will be the ruin of this house party.”
“He does not stink,” I told her severely. “At least not much.”
A mêlée had erupted at the table behind us. Sir Cedric had apparently tired of holding his temper and was shouting at Father, calling him Fagin and asking what sort of house he kept where innocent men were murdered and ladies’ jewels went missing. Father shouted back, calling him a jumped-up boot boy (a barbed reference to the fortune Sir Cedric made in selling cheap shoes to the working classes) while Hortense and Ludlow were busy coaxing them apart. Meanwhile, Violante was scolding Lysander in her native language in extremely colourful terms if Alessandro’s expression was any indication, and Plum had taken advantage of the pandemonium to cover Charlotte’s hand with his own.
Brisbane left them all to it and joined me. Morag bobbed him a clumsy curtsey, but her expression softened a touch. She would never admit it, but she was fond of Brisbane—for his slight Scottish burr, if nothing else.
“M’lord,” she murmured.
“Morag, always a pleasure,” he said as if he meant it. “When did you notice her ladyship’s jewels were missing?”
“Just now. I went to do her chamber—”
“Youjust nowwent to do my chamber?” I interrupted. As my lady’s maid, it was Morag’s duty to bring my morning tea, help me dress, then tidy the room and prepare my clothes for the afternoon. The fact that she had not touched my room until luncheon was highly unusual.
“I had to tend the wee doggie,” she informed me loftily. “She would only sip at the beef tea. Three trips I made to the kitchens for food for that animal. And then she had to—” She broke off, colouring slightly as she glanced at Brisbane. “She had toyou know,and I took her to the courtyard, only she would not put a paw on the snow. She kept rolling over and staggering until I finally scraped the snow out of one of those great stone boxes and found some greenery. I put her there and she did what nature expects.”