Yesterday's Promise (3 page)

It was not to be, for a rush of wind invaded the parlor, scattering sheets of music across the piano and down to the floor. An open window? Evy turned to see ballooning brocade draperies reaching to ensnare her.

She remembered now. The morning had been deceptively sunny, and she had opened it a few inches to let in some fresh air.
Oh dear
, she thought,
by now the rain will have blown in and wet the rug
.

She hurried to close the window and was startled by a streak of white that flashed across the black sky, followed by a thunderous boom, then rumblings through the darkened woods of Grimston Way. More rain followed, pounding the pane with fists like mystical goblins riding on the fall wind.

She wondered that her fingers shook, that she reacted so emotionally.
What is the matter with me? I've lived through hundreds of storms
.

The wind swept over the cottage, howling, repeating the word she least wanted to remember at this moment.
Murder
.

Evy had been a small child when Henry Chantry's life was taken. The murderer, who'd managed to get away, still had Henry's blood on their hands. Had the murderer located the Kimberly Black Diamond and escaped with it? The very thought rankled her because her mother had been blamed for its theft so many years ago. By now the perpetrator would be far from Grimston Way—there'd be no reason to stay. Even so, her skin prickled at the thought. Nor could she keep the twins' unlikely words that Henry was her father from churning in her mind.
What if he was?
She paused, letting the implication flutter around in her mind before rejecting it. It couldn't be true—that would make Rogan a blood relative.

Regardless of the silly talk about her mother coming to Rookswood to take revenge on Henry, someone may have done just that, but not Katie—she had died along with Dr. Clyde and Junia Varley at Rorke's
Drift mission station on the day of the Zulu attack in 1879. No one could possibly have survived that onslaught.

Overhead, a floorboard creaked, bringing her back to the moment. Her gaze lifted to the attic.
It's just the dampness, is all
, she told herself.

She remembered what Rogan said before sailing for the Cape. In spite of the authorities' conclusion that Henry Chantry had taken his own life, he suspected otherwise, believing that someone in the extended diamond family may have killed him for more than the Black Diamond. Why
more?
What could be
more
than that rare diamond from the Kimberly fields? The map? Ah yes, there was that. The precious map that Henry Chantry had left in his will to Rogan, promising gold on the Zambezi.

From Evy's limited knowledge of the diamond dynasty family, the shareholders and inheritors consisted of Bleys, Brewsters, and Chantrys. Never was there any mention of her mother's family, the van Burens. Evidently, Katie, under Sir Julien's guardianship, had not been left an inheritance, which meant, of course, there'd been nothing left to Evy. Not that she expected otherwise. Dreaming of diamonds had never been one of her weaknesses. However, she did care deeply about Katie's reputation—and her own.

According to Rogan, who hadn't explained how he knew, some members of each family were in England on the night of Henry's untimely death. All seemed capable of the short trip from London to Grimston Way to meet with Henry…and murder him?

The floorboard creaked again.

Evy snapped from her thoughts and turned toward the ceiling.
Rats?
Ugh… Maybe, but this was a heavier creak.
Footsteps?
Now she was really allowing her emotions to run wild! Her musings about Henry were unsettling her nerves.

She rubbed her arms and glanced around her in the dimness. Maybe she
should
have stayed for supper in the parish hall after all. A bit of company on a stormy evening would have restrained her imagination, but she set aside any notion of returning to the rectory in weather
like this. By the time she arrived, she would be soaked once again, and there'd be plenty of explaining to do, especially to Mrs. Croft, who treated her as if she were her own granddaughter.

Evy squared her shoulders. There was only one way to handle her edginess. If the Hooper twins and Wally could play Scotland Yard, well, so could she.

She walked to the kitchen, where the tea was ready to pour, but instead of enjoying a cupful as she had intended, she went to the pantry. A small table held the oil lamp. There were no windows, only a small vent for the warm months. She struck a match and lit the wick. A flight of steep steps beside the wall led to the attic. Holding the flickering lamp, she forced her spirit to bravery, lifted her chin, and climbed.

The wavering lamplight revealed yellow daisies on the fading wallpaper, which appeared comfortably familiar in a moment like this.

Rain continued to lash the cottage walls. She could imagine a giant standing outdoors with booted legs apart, whip in hand, trying to bring the house down.

It was really quite silly to allow her nerves to imagine footsteps from just a few creaks in the attic floor! After all, who would wish to look up there? There was absolutely nothing of value—just some personal belongings from Uncle Edmund and Aunt Grace—certainly not the Kimberly Black Diamond!

The wind plowed against the cottage, threatening to penetrate the weathered planks. The steps creaked beneath her feet, yet she was certain no one could hear her approaching over the noise of the storm.

She reached the final step and lifted the lamp. Standing near the door, she paused to rouse her courage again before stepping up to the small landing. The door whipped open, and she gasped.

A figure, apparently draped in a dark sheet, rushed at her with hands extended. A violent force shoved her and caused her to lose her balance. As she started to fall backward, she reached in vain for a rail that wasn't there. The lamp crashed down the steep steps, and her head struck something hard.

A deep growl of thunder shook the cottage. Lightning dazzled the dark sky. Evy Varley lay in a crumpled heap on the pantry floor, the paleness of death upon her cold, still face.

Henry Chantry's murderer lifted the dark shawl and stepped down the stairs to kick away pieces of the shattered lamp and beat out the flames before they could draw attention to the cottage. With the fire now extinguished and everyone else away at the dinner, there was time enough to search.

The murderer returned to the attic, threw open the drawers of an old parson's desk, and tossed its contents aside impatiently. A stack of envelopes were illuminated by the glow of a candle. One envelope in particular had its edges yellowed with time. It was written in Henry Chantry's hand, addressed to:

It had been sent from:

Then Henry had not been bluffing that night in the office chamber on the third floor of Rookswood. Henry said he had suspected me of taking the Black Diamond from him in the stables
.

But had he told me the truth about Vicar Edmund Havering?

The murderer's mouth twisted grimly.

Yes, and that is why Vicar Havering had to die. Because he finally grew wise enough to look on me with suspicion. He was asking too many questions at Rookswood. But I got away with it, Henry old boy, just the way I got away with silencing you forever. To this good day they still think the old vicar's death in the buggy on that stormy night was an accident. No one had enough sense to notice the wheel spokes had been altered. After that, all it took was a rifle shot from Grimston Woods as the vicar drove by in a hurry to get home in the rain. The horse bolted just as I had hoped. A clap of thunder and a flash of lightning were an added stroke of luck
.

The letter read like a confessional. Yes, Henry had assisted Katie van Buren in taking the Kimberly Black Diamond from its secret hiding place in Sir Julien Bley's library at Cape House. They had intended to travel to the mission station at Rorke's Drift to locate her baby, then leave for England, with Katie going on to America to begin a new life. But when Henry entered the stables, he was struck from behind. After he regained consciousness, both the Kimberly Diamond and Katie were long gone.

The murderer's hand trembled with rage.
Henry deceived me into thinking he named me as the thief instead of Katie! And the message I sent him—he lied to me, saying he had kept it for Scotland Yard, when all the
time I had fooled them all! There was no reason to have fought him… And when the pistol went off—

“All for nothing… Henry had not even suspected
me!
”

In a surge of rage, the murderer crumpled the letter and reached for the candle, then on second thought decided against burning it. The murderer moved from the attic to the steps and looked down into the gathering dimness to Evy Varley's crumpled body.

All for nothing. You, too, could have been spared. If only you had stayed at the church supper as you were supposed to, none of this would have happened. Foolish girl. You always were too adventurous for your own good
.

But now I'm certain I know who is hiding the Kimberly Black Diamond. I will yet possess it. It is only fair. It was meant for glory, and it belongs to me, to us! If I must kill again to have it, then I shall. Too much is at stake
.

The figure went down the steps, pausing again to look down at the body lying on the floor, still looking so fair and innocent.

Then quickly, as thunder rumbled in Grimston Woods, the murderer fled into the raging storm.

Who murdered Uncle Henry?

Rogan Chantry felt calmly convinced the question would find its answer among the extended diamond dynasty members scattered throughout South Africa and England—three families related by marriage, but with little else in common except diamonds…and the greed that surrounded the sparkling gems. Chantrys, Bleys, and Brewsters, all ruled by one man, Sir Julien Bley—sometimes ruthless, always dictatorial.

Rogan sat brooding over the two objects sitting on the mahogany desk in his cabin aboard the HMS
King George
bound for Capetown, South Africa.