I felt a prickle along the back of my neck. It could not be so simple. “Why did she not take it with her?”
“Mrs. King took only her portmanteau. She asked that her trunk be sent directly to her hotel and told Cook to tuck the pudding into her trunk before it was sent on. I have her direction. The maid has nearly finished packing her trunk. I meant to dispatch it today.”
I took the parcel from him, pricking my finger on the little sprig of holly Cook had tied neatly to the top. I ripped through ribbons and brown paper until I reached the pudding itself, firm and glistening, a masterpiece of the confectionary arts. The smell of fruit and spices rose from it, perfuming the air with Christmas.
I took a deep breath and plunged my hand into the pudding. Nothing. I pushed further. My heart gave a great lurch when I pulled out a trinket, but it was only a coin, stirred in for luck and prosperity in the coming year. I pushed my fingers into the sticky mess one more time, willing it to be there.
Aquinas said nothing through all of this. He merely stood, serenely, behaving as though it were the most natural thing in the world for his mistress to destroy Christmas puddings.
I pulled out my hand.
“My lady?” he asked. “Did you find what you sought?”
I turned my hand over and opened my fingers. There on my palm lay the largest diamond I had ever seen, winking up at me through spiced crumbs and bits of currant.
“I have indeed, Aquinas. May I introduce the Tear of Jaipur?”
* * *
Had I a better sense of the theatrical, I would have cleaned the jewel carefully and presented it to Brisbane with a flourish and a fanfare. But I knew time was of the essence. No sooner had I shown it to Aquinas than I gathered my skirts in my sticky free hand and dashed down the hall, cursing my corset as I ran, Aquinas hard on my heels. I flung open the door to the study.
“I have it!” I cried. “And her direction as well.”
Father stared owlishly at me over his spectacles, but Brisbane surged from his chair, at my side in a heartbeat. He took the diamond, rubbing at the traces of pudding with his thumb. He sniffed at it, then poked a tentative tongue at the mess.
“Pudding? She had it cooked in a Christmas pudding?” he asked. Emotions warred on his face, disbelief, elation, and a deeply felt satisfaction, I think. Father rose and came to look at the stone, clucking under his tongue.
“It is a very fine thing, when it isn’t covered in muck,” he observed.
I looked at Brisbane. “She told Cook to make certain it was packed in her trunk and sent on to her. Aquinas has the direction. She will not move without the Tear.”
“Unless she feels cornered,” Brisbane said, taking out a handkerchief and carefully pocketing the diamond. “Aquinas?”
Aquinas retrieved a slip of paper from the pocket of his coat. “A hotel in Southampton, my lord.”
“Southampton!” I exclaimed. “She has taken a page from Sir Cedric’s book. She must mean to quit the country as soon as she has the jewel.”
“She will not have the chance,” Brisbane said grimly.
“I will summon the carriage, although I believe the last train to Southampton has already left Blessingstoke station, my lord,” Aquinas put in.
“I need a train to London,” Brisbane corrected. “I must return the jewel for safekeeping before I pursue her.”
I shuddered at his tone. There was a grim determination there I had not seen in him before, and I felt suddenly rather sorry for Charlotte King.
“Ah, in that case, if we make haste, it should just be possible,” Aquinas said, withdrawing quickly to make the arrangements.
“I shall go with you as far as the station,” Father offered. “I must pay a call upon Fly in any event. He will want to know what Scotland Yard has said about the murder of Mr. Snow.” His expression was doleful as he left us.
When we were alone, Brisbane turned to me, his eyes bright with anticipation. “Well done,” he said softly.
The words were simple enough, but in that moment I was acutely aware of his physical presence.
“Yes, well, if I hadn’t happened to fairly run Aquinas down in the hall, I might never have discovered the jewel,” I told him.
He said nothing for a long moment. He merely stared at me, his dark gaze roving restlessly over my face as if memorising every feature. Time stretched out between us, and everything else, the sounds of the Abbey, the urgent knowledge that he must hurry to leave, all of it fell away. I felt stripped somehow. The moment was far more intimate than any of the kisses we had yet shared. I dropped my eyes, breaking the spell.
He stepped closer. “I must go,” he murmured. “I do not know when I will return.”