The Curiosity Keeper (14 page)

Jonathan waited for Penelope to leave before turning back to Miss Iverness. He lowered his voice. “After this morning, I can understand your need for urgency. You can stay at Kettering Hall, our family home, tonight, and then tomorrow we can visit the school, which is not far away.”

Miss Iverness’s shoulders seemed to relax at the words, and for the first time, he noticed her lips curve into the slightest hint of a smile.

Jonathan had not planned for them to leave for the country until the following day. But why should they not? He had been unsuccessful in retrieving the ruby and would need to develop a new plan. And getting home earlier meant he could get back to his work that much more quickly.

Leaving Miss Iverness to rest in the parlor, Jonathan headed for the stairs but stopped when he encountered Winston in the vestibule.

“We have changed our plans and will be leaving for Kettering Hall later today. Miss Iverness will accompany us. Please make the appropriate arrangements.”

Winston bowed in compliance, but not before Jonathan noted the fleeting expression on his face. The butler had been part of their London home for as long as Jonathan’s memory would stretch. But whereas he felt he could trust Abbott at Kettering Hall, it was no secret that Winston’s loyalty skewed toward Ian Gilchrist, not Jonathan. He no doubt had firm opinions about what he had observed in the house yesterday and today—including
Miss Iverness’s condition when Jonathan first brought her to the house—though he would never express them in earshot of the family.

Jonathan chose to ignore the manner in which the old man looked down his long nose, his bushy eyebrows furrowed in disapproval. How Jonathan hated this game of innuendo and judgment. Of perceived rights versus perceived wrongs, propriety and impropriety, who belonged in society and who did not. Did not the Almighty judge mankind on a different scale?

Once satisfied that the butler understood his directions, Jonathan started up the stairs to gather his own belongings. Penelope met him halfway.

“This has gone too far, Jonathan.” She hissed the words through clenched teeth, her blue eyes wide with indignation.

Jonathan continued up the stairs, his hand gripping the thick oak railing. He did not respond—partly because his decision had already been made, and partly because he knew well his sister’s tendencies. She relished a good argument.

He would not give her one.

Penelope followed him closely—so closely, in fact, that he felt the swish of her skirt on the back of his boots. “Have you lost your senses? Hasn’t our family had enough of scandal and gossip? It is clear that this woman is in some sort of trouble. Did you see how fidgety she is? She is involved with the wrong sorts of people, and possibly up to her neck in criminal activity. Spending the night here was one thing, but inviting her to Fellsworth and Kettering Hall is another matter entirely.”

Jonathan paused on the landing and turned to her, employing every ounce of self-control to remain calm. “Camille Iverness
is the closest link we have to the ruby at the moment. So I would prefer to keep her close. Do you not agree?”

“I think you are overestimating her knowledge of the ruby,” she sniffed. “I do not think she knows a thing about it.”

“Perhaps she does. Perhaps she does not. But you know this as well as I: either we get that ruby back or Father loses everything. Which means you have no dowry, as you yourself mentioned not twenty minutes ago. If taking the woman with us to Kettering Hall gives us even half a chance of learning more about the ruby, then I am eager to do so. And if we can help her escape an untenable situation by doing it, all the better.”

“Mark my words, Jonathan, you are inviting trouble.” A flush rushed to her cheeks as the words tumbled from her mouth. “And what of Mr. Darbin? Surely he would not agree.”

“Keep your voice down. I will send word and apprise Darbin of these developments. But I could not care less if he agrees or not. Kettering Hall is not so far should he desire to visit and discuss the matter. And he is certainly welcome to continue searching for the stone without my direct help.”

Penelope grabbed his arm to stop him when he turned to leave. “So you do not care what this will do to our reputation?”

“On the contrary. My intention is to prevent further damage to our reputation. But if I may say so, you care far too much for such things.”

“Well, someone in our family needs to, and if I am the only one who will pay heed, then so be it.”

Jonathan expelled his breath. “There is nothing improper in what we are doing.”

“Nothing improper!” she cried. “You bring an injured woman
to our house—a stranger, I might add. You implore her to stay the night, escort her home in the wee hours of the morning, and then invite her to accompany us to Kettering Hall? No, there is no scandal in that at all.”

“My mind is made up.” He shrugged matter-of-factly and resumed climbing the stairs.

“Father will be furious,” she shot back, following on his heels.

He stopped short. “The only thing that will infuriate Father is if we—if I—fail to recover the ruby—to cover debts he foolishly secured with
your
dowry money.”

Penelope threw up her hands in mock surrender. “Well, dear brother, you surely know what is best. I will just sit back and keep my mouth closed.” She pointed a finger toward his face. “I just want you to know right now that I claim no responsibility in this whatsoever.”

“You must trust me. Miss Iverness is hardly a threat to any of us. And even if she knows nothing about the ruby, we will surely be doing her a service. Do we not have an obligation to help one who is injured and in danger?”

“Tsk. You and your sentimental ideals. You will adopt any stray kitten, any sad child—anyone. Perhaps it is time that you concern yourself with your family and leave the rest to fate.”

He pressed his lips together. Arguing with her would get him nowhere. “We leave for Kettering Hall shortly. See to it that you are ready.”

With determined steps he continued to his bedchamber. Behind him he heard Penelope’s exasperated huff, then her retreating footsteps.

Penelope’s opposition to the prospect of taking Miss Iverness with them did not surprise him. In fact, his sister was probably
right. Taking responsibility for a penniless young woman with unsavory connections was surely the last thing his family needed.

But no matter how hard he tried, he could not free his mind from the image of Miss Iverness, frightened and embarrassed yet unconquered, determined to make her own way in the world. Nor could he forget the cruel tone of James Iverness’s voice.

No one deserved to be treated in such a fashion, and it seemed unacceptable to stand by and offer no help.

Chapter Sixteen

C
amille had thought it would be easier to leave London.

Ever since she made the decision earlier in the day, she had tried to imagine what it would feel like to leave behind the city and everything it represented for a new beginning.

But as she sat in the carriage and watched the recognizable scenery jostle into a strange mosaic of twisted streets and unfamiliar buildings, an unwelcome lump formed in her throat.

Memories rushed her, like fingers reaching out, attempting to hold her in place. Memories of playing in the street and alleys on warm summer days. Memories of rare excursions to parks or markets or the river. Memories of long afternoons in the shop with Tevy and Link for company.

But overshadowing them all was the memory of her father’s harsh words this morning.

Miss Gilchrist’s lady’s maid, Meeks, who was traveling in the carriage with them, had given her a cloak to wear on the journey. Camille clutched the soft wool fabric more tightly around her and drew a deep, steadying breath. Meeks had also been able to clean her gown and mend the sleeve, so Camille enjoyed the small comfort in being dressed in her own garment of modest linen. The rain had returned, dousing the short-lived warmth from the sun, and the damp spring air seeped in around the carriage’s doors and windows.

Miss Gilchrist sat across from her, next to Meeks. She truly was a beautiful woman. Her hair was the same pale gold of Mr. Gilchrist’s, but her eyes were a deeper shade of blue, almost violet, and her chin was delicately pointed. Her traveling ensemble consisted of a deep plum spencer with velvet-covered buttons and a lighter lavender gown beneath. Her smooth, rosy complexion reminded Camille of the porcelain that would come through the shop from time to time.

Camille looked down at her own ungloved hands. Their soft tawny hue bore testament to her mother’s Portuguese heritage. One finger was still stained with ink from working on the books. Could that have been only yesterday? She tucked that hand to her side.

Outside the window, she could see Mr. Gilchrist riding his dappled horse with the dark gray mane. He sat tall and straight, his broad shoulders cutting a handsome figure against the flashing landscape. Camille watched as he urged the animal to a canter and rode out ahead of the carriage, his coat catching the wind and billowing out behind him with each of the horse’s footfalls. Before long he was out of sight.

How different the two siblings seemed to be—Miss Gilchrist, sharp and highly strung, a stark contrast to her brother, whose gentleness and seemingly genuine concern made Camille feel welcome.

The carriage rumbled further away from London, the road now lined on both sides with lush greenery. Camille’s head ached and the jerking movements upset her injury, but the discomfort couldn’t dampen her curiosity about what her new life would be like.

She spoke to break the silence. The Gilchrists would be the
only people she knew in her new town. It would not hurt to attempt to develop a cordial relationship. “I do appreciate your altering your plans to include me.”

Miss Gilchrist tossed her head, her gaze not leaving the scenery outside the window. “My brother was quite insistent about it.”

The words hung icy in the air. Miss Gilchrist had made little effort to hide her displeasure at her brother’s decision, and she made even less of an effort now to show any warmth to Camille. In fact, she could not be more different than the woman who had shown such kindness just the night before.

Camille looked over to the lady’s maid, seeking reassurance or assistance, but the somber woman sat stone-faced, her brown eyes staring straight ahead.

Suddenly, Miss Gilchrist pinned Camille with her gaze. “I trust my brother shared with you what brought us to London.”

Camille stammered, unsure of what to say. “He mentioned he was looking for something that had been stolen, but I—”

“It is a ruby called the Bevoy, Miss Iverness,” Miss Gilchrist interrupted sharply.

The carriage hit a rut and joggled Camille against the carriage wall. “Yes, Mr. Gilchrist told me of such. I believe you mentioned it as well.”

“Even though this particular visit was unsuccessful, he and I hope you will be able to assist us in our search.”

Camille adjusted the cloak around her shoulders. She had known this question was coming. “I do wish to be of help, but as I shared with Mr. Gilchrist, I am afraid my knowledge of such things is limited. I only worked at the counter in my father’s shop. I know very little about his business dealings.”

“Be that as it may, you can surely understand how much we would appreciate your assistance, little or great, in making sure the jewel is returned to my father, its rightful owner. From what I understand, your knowledge of such things could prove invaluable. For you know all sorts of people, do you not? Your connections could well prove helpful in our recovery efforts.”

Camille pressed her lips together. So this was the reason they had been so kind. They needed her help. “If I can be of assistance in returning a piece of jewelry to its rightful owner, then I will be happy to do so, but please do not overestimate my abilities in this regard.”

Miss Gilchrist’s eyes widened. “Oh it is not merely a piece of jewelry as you say, Miss Iverness. It is rumored to possess mystical powers—to bring blessings or curses on those who possess it. Of course, those are just silly legends, but as I am sure you are aware, such folklore attached to any artifact makes it all the more valuable. To be honest, I am a bit surprised that someone in your position has not heard of it. I understand from Mr. Darbin that my father originally purchased the ruby from your father.”

Camille could not help but bristle at the hidden jab. “Who, may I ask, is Mr. Darbin?”

“Do you not know Mr. Henry Darbin? He is the man my brother hired to track down the villain who stole the ruby. He was a very good friend of my late brother, Thomas.”

A sinking feeling rolled through Camille. It seemed she had underestimated the lengths to which the Gilchrists were willing to go to recover this trinket.

Miss Gilchrist’s voice grew sharper. “I hope I do not offend you with what I am about to say, but I thought we should have
a discussion about what will be said when we arrive at Kettering Hall.”

Camille frowned. “A discussion?”

“Of course. My brother told me all about what happened, you poor creature.” Her voice was rich with condescension. “But you don’t want to start off on the wrong foot with the good people in Fellsworth, do you?”