The debutantes code, p.26
The Debutante's Code, page 26
“Uncle Bertie, this is Duke Heinrich von Lowe, of Brandenburg. We have attended several social events together, including the opera and the past Monday’s hunt, though I confess it seems a long time ago that we were on horseback together. So much has happened in the interim.”
Uncle Bertie looked the duke over, shook his hand, and turned away when Marcus asked him a question.
“Did something happen at the Hunt Ball? Was Mr. Swann not there to see after you?” The duke’s brows came down.
“Oh, he was most attentive and helpful. It’s just that we received word that my parents’ house was broken into, and the detective accompanied me back to London to see to things. It’s been a rather long week, what with checking to see what might have been stolen and helping our staff who had been injured.”
“Thievery again? I had no idea London was such a lawless place. Many of the social events I have attended have also been the target of lawbreakers. It is most displeasing. Nothing like that would be allowed to flourish in my family’s territory. We take a rather stern view of outlaws, and the punishments are most severe.”
Juliette tapped her fan in her palm. “There does seem to be a rash of events, doesn’t there? I wonder who could be behind it all?”
“Whoever it is, I hope that Detective Swann gathers them up soon.”
Lord Gravesend and his wife moved around the room, and Juliette admired the lovely jewels twinkling around the lady’s neck. Peridot was an unusual stone for a parure set, which in Juliette’s eyes made them all the more beautiful. And Lady Gravesend’s dark-green velvet gown accented them beautifully.
She twisted the garnet ring on her own finger, remembering her mother wearing the Thorndike sapphires. Thankfully, the thieves hadn’t been able to open her father’s safe. Though she was certain they had come for the jade dragon, they would not have been able to resist such a prize as those sapphires.
When would she see her mother wearing them again? Were her parents really all right, working to some plan of their own? And how would she feel when she saw them again? Why couldn’t they at least send word? Uncle Bertie and the Duke of Haverly seemed unconcerned. Was it because they knew something she didn’t? And could she spend a lifetime working for the government and keeping secrets from some, sharing them with others, and having to decide which was which? Would she ever be required to keep secrets from her parents? And eventually from her husband? Where was the line one would draw between truth and lie? Her mother had always urged her to honor God and be truthful. How did one keep secrets and still be truthful?
“Shall we go in to dinner?” Lord Gravesend asked.
Then began the ritual of pairing up according to rank. Lady Gravesend had clearly prepared and matched dinner partners quickly. Lady Juliette found herself on the arm of a Lord Highsworth, who was at least thrice her age but pleasant. When they were seated, she found herself across the table from Duke Heinrich.
Down the way, Charlotte, as the ranking woman present, sat beside their host, and Juliette studied her. She was an agent for the Crown, but only since her marriage. With an ease Juliette envied and wondered if she’d ever acquire, the duchess conversed with Lord Gravesend.
By the time the third course had arrived, Juliette wondered if they would ever get to the germane topic. She responded to her dinner partners and ate the food, but all the while she pondered how to get her hands on the code fragments in this very room and elsewhere in the house.
“I understand you captured quite a prize recently,” the Duke of Haverly said. “Congratulations. A first folio from the Bard himself.”
Lord Gravesend swelled a bit. “I never imagined I would get it, but when the opportunity to purchase arose, I couldn’t say no.”
“I was so happy for him,” Lady Gravesend said. “He’s admired the works of Shakespeare for as long as I’ve known him, and though he’s collected rare manuscripts for years, the Shakespeare folio is the crowning jewel of his library.”
“Speaking of jewels, yours are stunning,” Charlotte said. “Most becoming. Are they family pieces?” Though she knew they were not.
“Oh, no, they were a gift from Harold, a sort of thank-you for supporting him in buying the manuscript.” Lady Gravesend touched the necklace and beamed down the table to her husband. “He’s always spoiling me. These came from Austria, I believe.”
“Where did you unearth the Shakespeare manuscript?” Uncle Bertie asked. He raised his wineglass and took a long drink.
“I have some early copies of some of his plays. I love the dramas especially and Hamlet in particular. We saw Hamlet performed last Season, and I was transfixed. That night at the theater, I was approached by a man who works for Turner and Rathbone in Clerkenwell. He said he had heard I was a collector.” Lord Gravesend’s eyes glowed with his passion. “He said he had heard of a folio of Shakespeare’s plays, the 1623 edition, at a book dealer’s in France, and if I was interested, he would send his buyer to the owner with an offer.” He speared a piece of grouse with his fork. “I gave him a generous limit as to what I would spend, and he was able to negotiate a good price. With the rest, he purchased, on my orders, a little something for Hester.”
A “little something” like hundreds of pounds worth of jewels? He must have spent a packet on Shakespeare.
“My countess would love to see the folio. She’s got an affinity for books,” Haverly said. “She’s been through my library in the country and is now making her way through the books at our townhouse. I’ve some rare editions, but nothing as spectacular as a first folio.” He raised his glass toward his wife.
“Of course, if you’re interested.” Gravesend sat up a bit straighter. “I don’t like to bore people with my hobbies, as I know they are not everyone’s taste, but I’d love a chance to show it off.”
Juliette’s muscles eased. If she and Charlotte could find the code, they wouldn’t have to steal the manuscript.
It was the jewels that presented the larger problem.
After dinner, Lord Gravesend led them back to the drawing room, where Lady Gravesend had prepared some card tables. “We’ll begin the games, dear, while you show off your manuscript to those who wish to see it.” She patted her husband’s arm. “Don’t be long.”
Juliette joined Charlotte, her husband, Uncle Bertie, and Duke Heinrich.
Lord Gravesend practically skipped down the passageway to his library. “I’ll have to ask you to wait in here while I retrieve it. It’s too valuable to leave on a bookstand where all can see it.”
Lamps were lit, and the smell of leather and paper and ink surrounded them.
Charlotte went to the nearest bookshelf and trailed her fingers over the spines, as if greeting friends. “This room is magnificent.”
It was, too, with two stories of bookshelves. A gallery led around the upper story, reached by a pair of spiral staircases, one at each end of the room. Library ladders hung from brass rails along the crown molding, and large, comfortable chairs beckoned someone to sink into them with one of the volumes and escape into the pages.
Duke Heinrich took a slow stroll about the library, his hands clasped behind his back. Uncle Bertie followed his movements, and Haverly leaned against a desk, watching his wife with an indulgent smile on his face.
In a few moments, Lord Gravesend reappeared carrying a navy-blue box. “I am thrilled that you all wish to see my treasure. I’ll tell you a bit about it. It was once in The Bodleian Library, but in the 1660s they decided to purchase a newer edition—the third, possibly—and remove this one from the collection. You’ll see,” he said as he set the box on the blotter of the desk, “that there is a hole in the binding where the book was once chained to the shelf. All the books, being so precious at the time, were locked by chains to the shelves, and to take one down, you had to unlock the row.” He opened the flap on the box and revealed a rather nondescript, if large, brown leather tome.
Juliette’s heart sank. She hadn’t realized the book would be so big. How could they search the entire folio in the few minutes they had?
Lord Gravesend removed the book and placed it in a velvet-lined trough. “I had this specially made for the folio. The leather is understandably brittle after so many years, and the binding is fragile.” He opened to the first pages, and a portrait of William Shakespeare greeted them.
Mr. Shakespeares Comedies, Histories, & Tragedies.
‘Published according to the True Original Copies.’
Charlotte stepped forward first. “May I?”
“Of course, with all care.”
Gently she touched the heavy paper that bore age spots and ripples from former dampness. Slowly but rhythmically she turned the leaves. Juliette joined her.
“I love how books are created,” Juliette said, touching the stitched binding that showed in some places, but in reality, looking into the gutter of each page to see if someone had penned a bit of code where the pages met. Charlotte concentrated on the printing itself.
They were no more than a dozen pages in when Uncle Bertie yawned. “That’s a fascinating book, no doubt about it, but what say we all go play some whist? I’m feeling bold tonight.”
Juliette straightened. They had more than a hundred pages to look through. Why was he rushing them from the room?
“Are you sure?” Haverly asked. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance to view something this special. I’d hate to deprive Charlotte or Juliette of the opportunity.”
“I’m sure. A book’s a book’s a book at the end of the day.”
Uncle Bertie’s ennui irritated Juliette. Was this another of his plots and ploys?
He tapped the blue box the book had arrived in, his fingers moving erratically.
“Of course.” Haverly touched his wife’s arm, and she nodded, regret in her eyes. “Shall we join the others?”
Charlotte stepped back, smiling at Lord Gravesend. “Thank you for allowing us to see your treasure. Perhaps we can visit in the future to enjoy it again.”
Duke Heinrich, who had waited to the side, bowed slightly. “I would like an opportunity, if you please. I will rejoin you in a few moments, ja?”
“Your Grace, why don’t you escort the ladies back for the gaming, and I’ll wait with Duke Heinrich,” Lord Gravesend said. “He can take a look, and then I’ll lock the book up again.”
When they reached the passageway to the foyer, Uncle Bertie said, “The code was on the box, not the book. Under one of the straps. I need paper and pen before I forget it.”
“There’s bound to be paper and ink at the gaming tables to keep score,” Charlotte offered.
They joined the card players, partnering up, and Juliette noted Uncle Bertie tucking a scrap of paper into his coat pocket. They were halfway through their first game when Duke Heinrich and Lord Gravesend reappeared.
“An amazing find. And in fair condition for so old a book.” The duke flipped the tails on his coat out before he sat. “I could have looked at it for much longer.”
Juliette agreed. She played a card, taking the trick, and Lady Gravesend applauded. The diamonds and peridots winked from her wrist, neck, and ears. So near Juliette could touch them.
How were they going to get a closer look?
“I hope you’re ready for this.” Uncle Bertie, clad all in black, guided her through the dark streets.
She did too. Her heart fluttered and skipped as she followed him through twisting mews, keeping to the shadows. Her feet, clad in soft slippers, made no sound, but they ached with cold. Her dress was pure cotton, black as ink, that made no rustle like silk might have, and it absorbed what little light came from the moon.
“I got a rough layout of the house from our visit tonight, but I’ve no idea where Lady Gravesend might keep her jewels. The folio was kept in a secure location somewhere outside the library, a safe or strongbox, so the jewels might be in the same place.” Bertie drew her back into an alcove and pressed his finger to his lips.
Footfalls and the creaking of metal echoed off the cobbles. A circle of yellow light appeared, glowing from a lantern. A night watchman trudged by, his breath puffing out in the cold air. The handle of his lantern scraped and squealed as he walked, his head down.
When he had passed, Juliette let out her breath.
“Most night watchmen are good men, but they fall into a routine and pattern. You can often time it so you don’t encounter them. They see the same buildings and streets over and over, and unless something is quite out of the ordinary that draws their attention, they don’t notice. Boredom and routine are the death of perception and sharpness.” Bertie led the way again.
He’d been explaining and teaching since they’d slipped from their home at two o’clock, a mere hour after they’d left the Gravesend party.
“Three o’clock is the best time for breaking in. The occupants have often retired and are in deep slumber by then. The household staff has cleared away from the evening’s events, and after what would have been a very long day for them, are asleep. Night watchmen are cold and bored and unobservant at that hour, and the moon has waned, so there is less chance of being seen.”
They neared the back of the Gravesend house. “How are we going to get in?”
“I’m going to climb.” Bertie stopped beneath a deep overhang, studying the townhouse. One of a dozen on this street. Each had stables in the rear, with a place for a carriage and housing for grooms and coachmen.
Bertie pointed to a drainpipe attached to the brick. “I unlatched that first-floor window before we left, and I put a wad of paper into the latch to keep it from closing correctly. I’m hoping that with the late night, the butler didn’t do a thorough check of all windows and doors, and that if he did, the latch appeared locked. When I get in, I’ll come downstairs and open that door. You wait here out of sight, and don’t worry if it takes me awhile. Moving quietly always takes longer than you think. Once we’re inside, we’ll split up and see what we can find. You focus on the downstairs, and I’ll take the Gravesend bedchambers. If you find something you can’t manage to unlock, wait for me to come to you. If you find the folio, obliterate the code. If you find the jewels, pocket them. Whatever you do, don’t go in search of me. And if you hear noise from upstairs, get out of the house and back home. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Whatever happens, you must not be apprehended. Do you understand?”
He gripped her shoulder, his dark eyes glittering.
“I understand.” She clutched the pocket on her cloak where the lock picks resided. “I’ll be careful.”
Slipping away like a mist, Uncle Bertie approached the house, and without making a sound, he shinnied up the drainpipe like a spider. Juliette held her breath as he reached the window. With great agility, he leaned out and raised the sash. It whispered up with the slight creak of wood on wood, and he disappeared inside.
Juliette waited, counting in her head, imagining him creeping along the hallway, down the stairs to the ground floor, through the service areas of the house, and finally to the back door. Then she added more time for stealth. He should be coming now.
Nothing.
She let a few more seconds tick by.
The door remained stubbornly closed. He had said to be patient, that it would take him some time, but it seemed an eternity since he’d entered. Had he been caught? Had he forgotten about her?
At last the door separated from the frame a crack. Relief crashed through her even as tension tightened. She was going to do this. It was real. She, a debutante from a respected family, was going to break in and rob people who had entertained her in their home.
God, how can this be right? I can’t even ask Your protection and guidance, because this feels so wrong.
She eased across the cobbles, looking up and down the mews and seeing no one. Uncle Bertie stood just inside the door, and he closed it but left it off the latch. “Always leave your escape path free in case you have to leave in a hurry. I’m sorry it took so long. The stairs creak terribly.”
They crept through the kitchen. A scullery maid slept on a pallet near the stove. She couldn’t be more than twelve or thirteen summers, and she didn’t move as they passed her.
Up half a short flight of stone stairs, and Uncle Bertie pushed aside the door that separated the service areas from the rest of the house. As Juliette entered the part of the house she had seen earlier that evening, she mapped it out in her mind.
“You find his study, and I’ll head upstairs.” Uncle Bertie edged to the wall, stepping where the treads were the strongest and least likely to creak. Like Juliette, he wore soft shoes that made no marks or sound.
With no candle or lamp, Juliette had to feel her way down the hall. She found a music room and a morning room, both doors standing open. Faint light came in through the tall windows, but it hovered near the glass and didn’t penetrate the corners. She crept on. If she didn’t find a study, she’d come back and examine those spaces more closely. At the end of the hall, she encountered her first locked door.
Kneeling, she dug the ring of skeleton keys from her pocket to try first. If none of them worked, she would use the lock picks. In the War Room with enough light and time, she had become adept at opening the various locks Uncle Bertie put before her, but now, with freezing fingers, tight muscles, and the threat of discovery, her hands fumbled.
Sorting through the keys, she chose one and inserted it. Wriggling and manipulating produced no results, and she moved to the next, shutting her eyes to concentrate. This time the lock opened with such ease, she didn’t realize it at first.
She turned the handle, smothering a shaky laugh and opening her eyes.
The room had two tall windows that looked out on the street. Light from the streetlamp on the corner slanted across a desk, a rug, and a pair of tall chairs set before a fireplace. A screen had been placed before the fire, and the glow from the coals stood out red in the darkness.
Certain her heart had taken up permanent residence in her throat, she tried to swallow. Her father had a safe in the wall. Did Gravesend follow that leaning too? She tried the drawers on the cabinets, each one sliding out easily. Papers in neat files and bundles. A few rolled charts and ledgers.
