A Collector of Hearts (11 page)

           
“No,” said Mrs Oakengate. “We’re not going to do that.”

           
“Why ever not?” asked Blake. “Someone has stolen a
priceless jewel. Your priceless jewel. Why on earth would you not want the
police involved in retrieving it?” There was something in his eyes that
Caroline could not fathom. As if he knew something he was not telling. He
almost seemed to be challenging Mrs Oakengate.

           
“I have my reasons,” said Mrs Oakengate. “And those
reasons are none of your business. Now, Caroline, I ask you once again, give me
the Cariastan Heart back and you will be free to leave here.”

           
“With everyone thinking I’m a thief,” said Caroline. “I’m
sorry, Mrs Oakengate, but that’s not good enough.”

           
Count Chlomsky stepped forward, and took Mrs Oakengate’s
arm. “Dear lady, why don’t you tell the truth about the Cariastan Heart?” He
spoke quietly, so that only Mrs Oakengate, Caroline, Blake and Jack Henderson
could hear.

           
Mrs Oakengate’s mouth opened in an expression of shock.
“What do you know about it?”

           
“I will leave it to you to tell the truth, to Miss Conrad
alone if you prefer. Then, if she has it – and I do not believe she has.” He
bowed slightly to Caroline. “She will be more than happy to hand it back to
you.”

           
“Very well. Caroline, come with me.” Mrs Oakengate swept
up the stairs, with her head held high. Caroline hesitated, before following
her.

Mrs Oakengate sat on the
edge of her bed, playing with one of the sequins on her dress. Once again she
looked old and frail. Caroline almost felt sorry for her, until she remembered
that Mrs Oakengate had branded her a thief.

           
“Well?” Caroline stood with her arms folded.

           
“You can be rather frightening, you know, Caroline,” said
Mrs Oakengate. “I’ve never been afraid of my companions before. I’ve always
managed quite well to bully them into submission – until they rebelled. And
they always rebel in the end.” Her face assumed a wistful look. “You have never
been afraid of me, and that makes me afraid. I don’t have the control I used to
have. Do you understand what that does to a woman like me, who has always had
things her own way? I’m not only older and less pretty than I used to be, but
I’m no longer a force to be reckoned with in any other way. It reminds me that
one day I will be completely helpless and therefore at the mercy of an
unscrupulous companion. Even more terrifying is that I now wonder if that day
has arrived already.”

           
“I’m not a thief, Mrs Oakengate, and if righteous
indignation makes me frightening, then I don’t feel I have any apology to make.
Count Chlomsky said you knew the truth about something. What is it?”

           
“If I tell you, then I will lose all the control I have.”

           
“No you won’t. You’ll just have told the truth. That
should empower people. Though I understand that around here, it’s not always
the case. There are so many secrets in this house. And not just yours.”

           
“Very well, I’ll tell you. I’m no longer a very wealthy
woman, Caroline. I used to be. My husband left me well provided for, but I live
… lived … too well, forgetting that I neither have a career or a husband to
support me anymore.”

           
“I don’t understand. What has this got to do with
anything? Is it an insurance scam? Is that what you’re telling me? Did you
arrange to have the Cariastan Heart stolen in order to get the insurance?”
      

           
“No, good Lord. I would never do anything like that. The
truth is, as Count Chlomsky seems to have realised – he was sitting close to me
tonight so I daresay he was able to tell – Oh well, you might as well know. I
sold the real Cariastan Heart many years ago. The one I was wearing tonight is a
fake.”

           
“A fake!”

           
“Yes. A fake. It’s worth no more than a couple of hundred
pounds as costume jewellery. If that.”

           
“But surely the sale would have made the headlines,” said
Caroline.

           
“Not if the buyer wanted to keep it private, and so was
happy for me to pretend I still had it. It was an ideal remedy for me. I don’t
even know who bought it. The sale allowed me to keep my status as the Heart’s
owner, whilst the money I got from selling it has funded my lifestyle and
should, if I am sensible – which I’m sure you know I am not – keep me into my
dotage.”

           
“I see. I had no idea, Mrs Oakengate, really.”

           
“So now you know that, will you give it back to me?” Mrs
Oakengate’s voice had lost its imperious tone. Caroline began to understand why
it meant so much to her to be the Heart’s owner and keep the secret.

           
She once again felt sympathy for the elderly lady sitting
on the bed. She shook her head, sadly. “I honestly don’t have it, Mrs
Oakengate. I don’t know who does. But I think you do. There’s something going
on. At lunch today…”

           
“That was just me being a bit silly. I realise now that
I’ve been mistrusting the wrong people. It’s certainly nothing that I would
want to trust to your confidence.”

           
“I did not steal it, Mrs Oakengate. I’ve hardly left your
side since the lights went back on. Where do you think I could have hidden it?
I have no pockets and I assure you this bodice is far too tight to hide a
pendant the size of the Heart.”

           
“That man you’ve been chasing all over the place. Blake
Laurenson. He disappeared for a while. He could have gone to hide the diamond
somewhere. He’s the sort of handsome devil who talks women into such things.
Like your father.”

           
“He did not talk me into stealing the Cariastan Heart,
Mrs Oakengate.” Whether he had helped someone else steal it was a possibility
Caroline kept to herself.

           
“Then it appears we have reached an impasse, because I
believe he did. Go on, leave here tonight. I have no wish to see you anymore.”

           
“If I leave it will make everyone believe I am guilty,
and I’m not,” said Caroline.

           
“Whatever you do, I do not want you here, sleeping in the
next room to me. Get your things and give me the key. I’ll sleep better with
the door locked.”

           
Caroline had no option but to obey Mrs Oakengate’s
command. She was only able to attend the abbey as Mrs Oakengate’s companion.
She could not be there in her own right. Fifteen minutes later, she stood in
the hallway, with her suitcase at her feet and in her own clothes, having been
divested of her Lady Cassandra outfit. She had made a point of undressing in
front of Mrs Oakengate, to prove she did not have the Heart about her person.

She wondered what on earth
she could do next and wished her Aunt Millie were there to talk to. Millie
would know what to do. If nothing else, she would believe unstintingly in
Caroline’s honesty. With that thought came action. Caroline carried her
suitcase downstairs into the hall. Most of the guests had dispersed, perhaps
having lost the party spirit. A few hardy souls still danced in the ballroom.
She could see others through the open drawer of the drawing and dining rooms,
chatting, presumably about her. Blake was nowhere to be seen.

           
Caroline picked up the phone from the side table, and
took it into the small sitting room off the hall, stretching the cable as far
as it could reach. She shut the door, sat down on the floor and dialled the
operator to request the number. The Haxbys' telephone rang and rang, until
Caroline almost gave up in despair. Then Uncle Jim’s sleepy, but soothing
tones, came on the line. “Hello, who is this?”

           
“Uncle Jim, I’m sorry to bother you so late. Is Aunt
Millie there? I really …” At the point all Caroline’s normal self-possession
crumbled, and she burst into tears.

           
“My dear child, what is it?” said Jim Haxby. “Come on,
tell your Uncle Jim all about it.”

           
Caroline poured it all out between sobs. About Blake,
about the prince, and about the Cariastan Heart having been stolen, with her as
the main suspect. “I’m so confused, Uncle Jim. I want to come home,” she said
when she had finished.

           
“Of course, you don’t even need to ask. Aunt Millie and I
will drive up tonight and be there by the morning. Now you sit tight and I
promise you that everything will be alright.”

           
“Thank you.”

           
“Caroline, did I hear you mention that Count Chlomsky was
there?”

           
“Yes, that’s right.”

           
“Go to him and ask for his help. He’s a good man.”

           
“I rather think he’s on Mrs Oakengate’s side. He’s in
love with her.”

           
“Really? Good lord. That’s a turn up for the books.
 
But I believe the Count is also on the side
of truth. If there’s anyone you can trust in that house, it’s him. Meanwhile, try
to remember everything you can about the other guests. But also about the
people who live in the house. This Blake Laurenson, the staff. Anyone. We’ll go
over it all with you tomorrow and see if we can’t work out what’s going on.”

           
“I will. Thank you Uncle Jim.” She put the phone down and
wiped her eyes. She turned a little, to hoist herself up off the floor, only to
find Blake standing near the fireplace, watching her.

           
“Darling…” he said, moving towards her.

           
“No, don’t,” she said, gulping back a sob.

           
“Is this what I’ve done to you?”

           
“No, you can’t take all the credit.” Caroline stood up,
unsteadily, and wiped away a stray tear. “As you no doubt heard when I was
talking to Uncle Jim, Mrs Oakengate has fired me. I have to leave here, but I
can’t until the morning. So until then, I’d prefer you to leave me alone. It
will be hard enough … hard enough to go as it is.” Her voice cracked, and in an
instant Blake was across the room, taking her in his arms. She tried to push
him away. “I have to go to Count Chlomsky. I can trust him.”

           
“You can trust me.”

           
“No, I can’t because you’ve lied before about who you are
– several times - and I think you’re continuing to lie.”

           
“I’ve told you, it makes no difference to who I am.”

           
Caroline stood back and held him at arm’s length. “Yes,
it does. Don’t you see? If you’re part of this plot to steal the Cariastan
Heart, and you’ve allowed me to be blamed for it, it does make a difference. It
doesn’t matter how badly you feel about it now, the fact is you let it happen.”

           
“I haven’t lied to you several times. I haven’t lied at
all. The only sin I’m guilty of is omission. I did work on a Hitchcock film as
a runner, but a few years back, when I was wandering around the world trying to
decide what to be. I am a political reporter. This year at least, until I
decide I want to be something else. You saw that for yourself in the newspaper.
My grandfather does own this house. Come with me.” He took her hand and led her
to a small bureau near to the window. He reached under the bureau and pulled
something from the bottom. It was a key. Inside the bureau drawer were family
photographs, presumably put away whilst the house was open to strangers.

           
“Look,” he said. “That’s me at the age of ten with my
mother.”

           
“She’s very beautiful,” said Caroline. She could see the
man in the boy who sat proudly next to his mother in the picture in a pretty
Italian garden that she recognised as being to the side of the abbey.

           
“She was. She died when I was twenty-five. There isn’t a
day goes by that I don’t miss her. And this one here, that’s me taken last
summer with my grandfather. You can see the abbey behind us. Look, there’s old
Stephens behind us.” In the picture, Blake stood with his grandfather in front
of the house. They both wore cricket whites, and looked relaxed and happy. The
love between them shone out from the photograph.

           
“Stephens seems to have a knack of ending up in
photographs,” said Caroline, her heart feeling less heavy than it had been.
Here at least was solid proof that Blake had told her the truth about his
family. “He’s in the background of the one with your mother too. Who’s that
with him?” Next to Stephens was a short young man of about twenty.

           
“His son, Ronald, I imagine. If I remember rightly, he
visited that year, but I didn’t really know him.” Both Blake and Caroline
stared at the picture, then at each other. The man was much younger, but still
recognisable.

           
“It’s the prince,” said Caroline. “Oh I’ve been so
stupid!” she exclaimed. “Stephens told me that his son went off to become an
actor, then said something about it only being a bit of fun. Or… even if it was
only a bit of fun. The prince isn’t the prince at all. He’s an impostor.” She
expected Blake to show similar surprise, but he did not. “You already know
that, don’t you?”