Chapter Twenty-Five
“This dress is utterly ruined. Most everything else is lost back there.”
Amanda waited while her mother took stock of her situation. They were back at the inn, after a walk through the dark to the waiting carriage.
Leaving the house had taken too long, due to Mama insisting on bringing a valise and checking to make sure her most expensive clothes were inside. Then the field had proved very damp and muddy for Mama’s fine shoes. While on the road, far from Yarnell’s house, Mama had felt safe enough to start a litany of complaints about her lack of comfort and other deprivations.
Now Gabriel had left them alone in Amanda’s chamber, to become reacquainted.
“It is too bad you had to leave so much, but at least you are not facing a noose,” Amanda said. She had changed her own garments so she no longer wore those pantaloons, and her own dress paled compared to her mother’s since she had not brought any of the new garments Gabriel had given her. It annoyed her that her mother was bemoaning the loss of her possessions.
Sitting on the bed, her mother patted the spot beside her. “Sit with me. I want to look at you, and really see the changes in you, Amanda. I recognized you instantly when I looked out that window, but of course you are a woman now, not a girl. A lovely woman. No wonder that handsome man agreed to help you.”
Amanda and her mother scrutinized each other’s faces.
Mama had the same face as the one of her memories, of course. Older, however, and drawn in ways that perhaps reflected the worry of the last few weeks. Humor still lit her eyes and her lips looked just as starkly red. She saw herself in her mother’s face now too, which as a girl she never had.
“I am so proud of you and how well you have risen to the occasion through all of this. Your father would be proud too, that you remembered so much of what he taught you all those years ago.”
“The problem, Mama, is that I am not proud. I did it for you, but I did not like doing it. It came at great cost, more than you will ever know, so I can’t find too much sympathy if you lost a few dresses.”
“I understand, darling. I do. I tried to find another way. I tried to escape myself first. Do not take my mumbling about my wardrobe as evidence of lack of gratitude. I may not know all the costs to you, but I can imagine some of them, knowing you as well as I do.”
She embraced Amanda with one arm. Amanda rested her head on her mother’s shoulders the way she had many years ago. And in that embrace some of the distance created by the years apart fell away.
Her mother patted her head. “That man. Is he one of us?”
“Do you mean a thief? No. Quite the opposite.”
“Please do not say you hired a runner to help you. They cannot be trusted.”
“Not a runner, or anyone hired. A friend.”
Her mother angled her head to look in her eyes. “Is he a lover?”
Amanda felt her face getting hot. This was her mother, after all.
Her mother laughed. “You have done very well for yourself in one way, daughter. I expect you were doing equally well in others. Hence the cost. Forgive me for interfering, especially if my special requests destroyed any plans you had. If you hate me now, it is only what I deserve.”
Before Amanda could think how to respond, a knock sounded at the door. Amanda jumped up to open it and found Gabriel there. “I have sent a late supper up. It should be here soon,” he said.
“Won’t you come in, sir?” her mother called.
He looked at Amanda, who nodded and held the door wide. He entered.
Her mother raised her chin and faced them both squarely. “I am sure you have questions for me. You would be rare souls if you did not, and fairly stupid ones as well. Perhaps we should take care of all of that now.”
* * *
“It was a brilliant plan, but perhaps too ambitious.” Mrs. Waverly began her tale while she and Amanda partook of the meal that had arrived. “I heard about Mr. Yarnell by chance. I was chatting with a man at an outdoor fete in Plymouth, trying to decide how best to obtain his gold pocket watch, when Yarnell walked by. The man with whom I spoke pointed to him and called him an eccentric fool. Well, of course I was intrigued.”
“Of course,” Amanda said.
Gabriel lifted an eyebrow, but said nothing.
“I was told that Yarnell believed there to be hidden treasure on his property. Ancient treasure. Viking, Celtic, early Roman—that sort of thing. He dug looking for it. He and his cousin would spend hours digging these pits, sure they would uncover great riches. Well, the man sounded half mad to me, but not entirely so. I never would take advantage of someone truly mad.”
“Of course not,” Amanda said, as if her mother had just referenced Rule No. 5 of the Thieves Code.
“I devised a simple plan. I did a bit of research on such things and learned what these treasures looked like. Then I had someone make me an object that would pass for such an artifact. It could only be base metal painted to look gold, and paste jewels. I gambled that Yarnell would not know true quality if he saw it, and it was the best I could do.”
“Did you bury it on his land?” Amanda asked.
“I could hardly go dig a pit, could I? Nor did I want to. I went to Yarnell, showed him the object, and told him I had bought it off a man who claimed to know where much more was buried on Yarnell’s property and who could get me more if I wanted. I gave the object to Mr. Yarnell and apologized for having bought stolen property. As I expected, he wanted to know about this other man, and the location of the treasure.”
“You made him press you with the request, I expect. You first demurred,” Amanda said.
“Of course.”
“You finally agreed to learn more, and discovered that for a price, the fictitious man would provide the exact location, I assume,” Amanda said.
“Exactly.”
“What went wrong?” Gabriel asked.
Mrs. Waverly sighed. “His oafish cousin Mr. Pritchard arrived to help him. Suddenly my whole plan was in jeopardy. It was time to disappear.” She grimaced. “Only his cousin followed me, and hauled me back, and they threatened me with prosecution.”
“How unsporting of them,” Amanda said.
“Since your plan had not resulted in any actual theft, on what basis did they threaten to prosecute?”
Mrs. Waverly drank a bit of wine. She forced a neutral expression. She did not look at him or Amanda. “Knowing my initial plan was ruined, I confess that before I left his house the last time I helped myself to a few baubles. Nothing significant. He should never have noticed, but that is the kind of person he is. He probably takes an inventory every day just to make sure the servants are not robbing him. Odious little man.” She finally acknowledged the way Amanda glared at her. “A small silver box from the dining room. A little miniature from the small gallery. The image had no value, but the setting was worth at least five pounds. And a very small, very rare manuscript of the Hours from his library that he probably did not even know he owned. As I said, small baubles for my wasted time.”
“Did his cousin find these items in your possession when he caught you?” Amanda asked.
“Yes, regrettably. I did not know Pritchard followed, did I? I would have made sure I did not hold the goods if I had known. They tricked me. It was highly dishonorable.”
Gabriel swallowed the laugh that almost erupted.
“So he had you and had the evidence and most likely even had witnesses for when those goods were discovered,” Amanda said. “When did you mention me?”
“Right when he prepared to send his cousin for the magistrate so he could lay down information. Either I offered him a different solution, or—well, who knew? During our negotiations for the location of the supposed buried hoard, he mentioned having had another such treasure stolen from him. Hence all that digging. So I asked if he knew where the items stolen from him rested now. Things progressed from there.”
Gabriel controlled his anger with difficulty. This woman had all but sold Amanda to Yarnell in order to save herself. He was beginning to regret aiding her release.
“Describe Pritchard and Mr. Yarnell, Mrs. Waverly. And tell us how many servants are in that house.”
* * *
Gabriel paced in his chamber.
The woman resembled Amanda more than he liked. The dark hair and pale skin, the dark eyes and red lips, even their height and bearing reflected their blood connection. That was not what really preyed on his thoughts, however.
Today, Amanda had been her mother’s daughter in more than resemblance. Her skill at climbing that wall and working the lock, her stealth in moving through that house—Amanda the thief had revealed herself today. On the one hand, he could not help but admire her skills. On the other hand, the thoroughness of her training dismayed him.
Even while her mother told her tale, Amanda’s ability to think like a thief had startled him. She had been one step ahead of the story, guessing the next move, supplying half the details from her own imagination. And she had been correct each time. Her training went beyond scaling walls. She thought like a thief and could predict how her mother planned her crimes.
She had admitted her role in those London thefts. He of course knew she had shown both boldness and unusual skills. He had never actually seen it before, nor witnessed her mind working out how such a crime might be successful.
Unfit for sleep, he left the chamber to go below and drink himself numb. As he stepped onto the landing, he saw a familiar blue dress draped over the top step.
Mrs. Waverly looked up at him from where she sat. “She fell asleep on my shoulder. I laid her down and came out here so I would not disturb her. I doubt I will sleep much myself.” She stood and smoothed her skirt, to make way for him to descend.
“You are welcome to make use of my chamber while I am gone,” he said while he passed.
“I wonder if I could say a word or two to you,” Mrs. Waverly said. She twisted her hands together. It was the first time he had seen anything besides overweening confidence in her. “It is about my daughter. I want to explain something.”
He rested against the stairwell wall. “I am listening.”
“I want you to know that she is not by nature like me. She is not truly one of us. I saw how you watched her while we were in her chamber. I saw the expression in your eyes. I fear that you are drawing conclusions about her character that are not accurate or fair.”
“She has it in her to be not only one of you, but one of the best of you.”
“That is true. My husband saw that very early. He began teaching her and she learned quickly. She could work a lock better than I could by the time she was nine. She proved to be nimble and fearless. But . . . she also began to question the why of it. To me more than her father. By the time she was twelve, I could tell that, despite her abilities, she would never do.” She laughed quietly. “One time we came back from a party with a lovely little cameo brooch. Amanda discovered it had a hidden spring and that it opened. Inside was a snip of hair. It upset her terribly that this was not an ordinary bauble, but a treasured one. She argued for days that we had to take it back. You can see the problem, I am sure. A thief cannot be sentimental like that. She can’t go returning brooches if she discovers they contain personal meaning.”
“It was not returned, I assume.”
“Her father left soon after. It would be too dangerous to return it to where it had been. However, since she continued nagging me about it, I took her to the house one night and we tossed it over the wall. Hopefully it was found.”
“Her conscience became inconvenient for you. Is that why you put her in a school?”
“She did not belong with me any longer. She was better off at that school.”
“She would not steal for you so you cast her adrift.”
Mrs. Waverly’s eyes narrowed. “It was a good school full of well-born girls, not a small boat on the ocean. And I had no choice.”
You could have chosen not to be a thief any longer. He did not say it, but her expression firmed as if she heard him anyway.
“I had hoped to see you, but not to talk about this,” she said stiffly. “My daughter never really introduced us. I want to know who you are.”
“I am Langford.”
Astonishment, then dismay. She closed her eyes, shaking her head. “A duke. Oh, Amanda, what have you done?”
* * *
Gabriel found a seat in the public room of the inn and called for some ale. Around him, other travelers and some local men raised a din of high spirits and drunken pleasure. A group of fellows standing near his table enjoyed a hearty camaraderie.
He had drunk half of his ale before they shifted around, permitting a view of the far side of the chamber. Two heads bent near each other, holding a conversation at a table there. He picked up his ale and walked over.
“Why didn’t you send up word you were here, or come up yourselves?” He slid onto a bench next to Stratton while he spoke.
“I would have, but Stratton here has more delicacy. We arrived late, and he thought you and Miss Waverly might be occupied,” Brentworth said.
“Is it done? Was the dagger delivered?”
Stratton shook his head. “It is here. It is not yet in the hands of the man you seek, but still with the one who is carrying it there.”
Gabriel looked around the chamber. “Which one is this Pritchard?”
“He has now gone above. First, he hired the private dining room—”
“Which meant we could not,” Brentworth said. “He also takes the best chambers, which means we cannot.” He gestured to the crowd. “We arrived late enough that there was only one left so we are sharing.” He leaned in. “Do you know how long it has been since I have shared a bed with another man?”
“I don’t know why you are complaining,” Stratton said. “You are the one who snores. Last night, your chamber did not even adjoin mine and I could hear the goose honking all night.”
“Why is he here?” Gabriel interrupted. “He is all but back already. The house is barely half an hour away at most by horse, and that is at a slow walk.”
“As I was saying, he first took the private dining room and ordered an entire joint of beef with all the trimmings. We watched the feast go in along with a bottle of very good wine. Now he is availing himself of a chamber above,” Brentworth said. “It has been like that the whole way. He is living very high, and enjoying it enormously. I think he dallied here until morning so he could enjoy it yet again.”
“Which means it probably is not his money,” Stratton said. “The bills he is getting would make most men swoon.”
“Let that be a lesson for all of us, gentlemen,” Brentworth said. “If you hire a man to engage in nefarious deeds for you, do not allow his expenses to be carte blanche.”
“He may not be eating and drinking on his own shillings, but he was not hired,” Gabriel said. “There is a cousin involved named Pritchard, so this is he.”
“Who told you about him?”
“Mrs. Waverly. We have her.” He described the evening’s adventure, skimming over the details of Amanda’s impressive skills at housebreaking. “She has given me some information about that house. In addition to this cousin who, according to her, is not above violence, there are three other men. They try to be footmen, but are barely passable. She thinks they are men hired mostly to dig for buried treasure.”
“He thinks there is more?”
“He refuses to think there is not more may be a more accurate way to say it.”
Brentworth frowned in thought. “I suppose when we confront him we could bring pistols, but I don’t like it. We are with you, Langford, if you decide it must be that way, but—”
Gabriel did not like the idea of wielding pistols, let alone firing them, any more than Brentworth. Yarnell wasn’t a murderer, and Mrs. Waverly had tried to defraud him.
“Perhaps, we should not go there to confront him at all,” he said.
“Are you saying that after we trailed this fellow across the south of England you are now changing your mind about the whole matter? If so, on the way back you owe Stratton and me carte blanche at the inns.”
“We will complete the plan, only not at Yarnell’s house. We have the dagger here, and the man who carried it,” Gabriel said. “Why not have Yarnell come to us?”