said. He smiled at Kate’s questioning look and pressed her hand. “I’m afraid the story will have to wait, my dear. We have more urgent things to deal with, I think. Winston, what were you able to learn about Northcote in Woodstock?”
“Only that he took a room at The Bear very early this morning, and then caught the first train to Kidlington and points beyond,” Winston replied, clasping his hands behind his back, under the skirts of his coat. “He’s sent a telegram to the Duchess, begging her pardon for his sudden departure, which he blames on unexpected business. It arrived just before tea, she said.”
“It was sent from-”
“From London,” Winston replied.
“I take it that Miss Deacon was not with him when he left Woodstock,” Charles said.
“That’s correct. And the stationmaster does not recall seeing a young lady of her description at any point during the day.”
“A young lady?” Kate put in eagerly. “What about a young man?” Winston looked confused, and Kate subsided. “Forgive me for interrupting,” she said. “Please go on, Winston.”
Winston nodded. “I sent a telegram to Cornwallis-West, asking him for whatever information he might be willing to send me. I expect to hear tomorrow or the next day, by post.”
“Ah,” Charles said. “And your visit to the Black Prince?”
Winston put on a nonchalant expression. “Drew a blank, I’m afraid. I met a fellow with a red beard, but he could tell me nothing about the missing housemaid.” He went to the tea table, poured himself a cup of tea, and helped himself to a slice of cake. “More tea, Kate?” he asked, over his shoulder.
“Thank you, no,” Kate said. She turned to Charles. “Missing housemaids? What are you up to, Charles?”
“Bear with me, Kate,” Charles said. “First, I would like to hear what you found when you searched Miss Deacon’s room.”
Winston rejoined them, eyebrows lifted. “Kate searched Miss Deacon’s room?” He sat down in the chair across from them, boyishly stretching out his legs.
“I thought it should be done,” Charles replied, adding, with a hint of a smile, “It seemed more appropriate that it should be done by a lady, in case there was something that ought not be seen by male eyes.”
“There was nothing in the room that should shock anyone,” Kate replied. “And as it turned out, I was there twice. Once to find what was there, and once to find out what was missing.”
“That,” said Winston definitively, “has a whiff of intrigue.”
Kate gave them a small smile. “Her room was exactly as might be expected. Several photographs of admirers, signed with effusive endearments. The usual hairpieces and cosmetics possessed by a young lady in Society. A locked diary, which I did not open.” She reached down, picked up a tapestry bag, and took something out. “And this letter from Northcote.” She handed it to Charles. “It was lying, unfolded, on her bedside table.”
Charles opened and read it. When he had finished, without a word, he rose and handed it to Winston. Winston read it silently, pressing his lips together, until he reached nearly the end, and then began to read aloud.
“ ‘And if you refuse, why then I shall simply carry you off straightaway and the devil take he who tries to stop me-Marlborough or anyone else!’” With an indignant expression, he handed the letter back to Charles. “I guessed as much. Northcote is behind this whole affair. I don’t know what he’s done with her, but he’s clearly no gentleman. No gentleman at all!”
“Perhaps one cannot blame him,” Charles remarked, refolding the letter and putting it into the inside breast pocket of his jacket. “When he wrote this, he seems to have been laboring under the apprehension that Miss Deacon had accepted his offer of marriage, along with the family diamonds.” He smiled. “Although perhaps their conversation in the garden last night disabused him of that notion.”
“In the garden?” Kate asked in surprise. “But I thought Miss Deacon was there with the Duke.”
“Marlborough says that the two of them had a disagreement and that he left her there before ten-thirty,” Charles replied. “I rather imagine that Northcote was watching from an upstairs window, because he joined her shortly after. According to one of the footmen, who happened to witness the encounter, Northcote became rather heated. About twelve-thirty, the same footman saw him fleeing, bag in hand, from the house. He seems to have fetched up at The Bear, alone, and thence at the train.”
Winston looked at Kate. “The diamond necklace Northcote gave her,” he said tersely. “Did you find it in her room?”
“No necklace,” Kate said, shaking her head. “Only the gems we’ve seen her wear-some of them quite fine- and a few others. Oh, and a pouch of odd-looking stones, trinkets, really. They were in the drawer with her diary, rather than in her jewelry box. I doubt that they have any particular value.”
Not sure whether he was surprised or not, Charles turned to face her. “A pouch of stones?”
“Yes. A half-dozen or so, five, perhaps.” She gave him a quizzical look. “They were individually wrapped in tissue.”
“And what did they look like?”
“Like trinkets,” Kate said. “One was a scarab beetle-the sort of thing you’d find in Egypt. The others were of different colors, cut in odd shapes, with carvings all over them.” She frowned. “Are they important?”
Winston’s eyes had darkened and he was leaning forward, urgently. “Charles, you don’t imagine that-”
“Pound to a penny they’re what’s left of the Marlborough Gemstones,” Charles said. “Did you have a look in the Red Drawing-Room?”
“No,” Winston said, between his teeth, “although I certainly shall. But why would she-”
“Gemstones?” Kate leaned over and put a hand on Charles’s arm. “Charles, you must tell me what you’re talking about!”
Charles gave a deep sigh. He took no pleasure in the thought that his suspicions had been confirmed, for it only opened other, darker possibilities.
“I was reluctant to share this, but I see that I must. Friday last, a mysterious woman appeared at the Ashmolean. She brought a leather pouch containing five seal-stones, and asked the curator for an idea of their value. John Buttersworth, to whom she spoke, recognized the stones as similar to those in the Marlborough Gemstone collection, which was sold some thirty years ago. She apparently let it slip that she was an employee of the duchess-the Duchess of Marlborough, Buttersworth assumed.” He paused, adding dryly, “The lady in question was veiled, but according to Buttersworth, who is a connoisseur of such things, she had a classical Grecian nose.”
Winston’s face wore a look of astonishment, and he whistled between his teeth. “I can see our Miss Deacon doing many strange things, but it’s well nigh impossible to imagine her attempting to flog the Marlborough Gems. Whatever for? The lady certainly has funds enough of her own, or so she leads one to believe. Inherited a fortune from her father, I understand. And anyway, those stones, by themselves, aren’t worth much-unless she thinks there are others.” He pulled his brows together. “As well she might, if she hasn’t heard of the auction.”
“I can’t speak to motive,” Charles said, “but it’s not difficult to test the hypothesis. If you’ll have a look in the china box in the Red Drawing-Room, Winston, I’ll see to Miss Deacon’s room.” He turned to Kate. “A locked diary as well, you said?”
Kate nodded. “I could have picked the lock easily, but I decided against it.” She paused. “But there’s more to tell you, Charles. I went back to her bedroom a second time, with the maid, and discovered that a suit of men’s clothing is missing from the wardrobe-brown flannel trousers and jacket and brown boots. I also discovered that Miss Deacon took her small valise from the luggage room.”
“Men’s clothing?” Winston asked in astonishment. “And a valise? But what the devil-”
“A disguise,” Charles said. He grinned, amused. “Perhaps our elusive Miss Deacon has done a moonlight flit with Botsy Northcote’s diamonds.” He raised his eyebrows. “Or perhaps she took the train this morning, after all-not in her gold evening gown, but in a man’s brown suit.”
“Oh, surely not,” Winston said. “I can’t believe-” He stopped. “But why a disguise?” He repeated it to himself, puzzled. “Why a disguise?”
The question, Charles thought, had no answer, at least at the moment. But Kate was going on.
“There are some other things I need to show you, Charles,” she said. She reached into the tapestry bag once again and took out a gold leather evening slipper. “I found this in the boat house, in the bottom of the green rowboat. Not one of the Duke’s boats,” she added with a small smile, handing it to him. “A working boat, in the old
