Part 20 (1/2)

Had seen no reason why her life ought not end then and there. But the women of the Agency had proven her wrong. It had been her first lesson at the Academy.

”If you escape,” she told him, ”that fatalism wil be the most dangerous threat to your own life. We'l see a physician about that cut. You can wean yourself from opium. You're not an old man forty-five or fifty? If you desire it, you can make yourself anew.”

He simply shook his head.

”What does that mean? You don't believe me?

You don't want to?”

”You're a brave, warm-hearted young lady. Don't waste it on me.”

So she'd inherited her stubborn streak from her father. Final y, after a long pause, she mustered enough calm to say, ”I understand this is a large and dangerous proposal. You may wish to have time to consider it. I shal return tomorrow to tel you the details of my plan.” After al , she'd need until then to work it out in detail and procure the necessary tools.

”I shan't change my mind, child.”

Child. She blinked back a sudden rush of tears.

”Then you can tel me that again tomorrow. Good-day, Mr Lang.”

Twenty-four.

Thursday afternoon Buckingham Palace When Mary presented herself for duty, Mrs Shaw examined her with a grim eye. ”You don't look much improved stil pasty and puffy. Are you sure you're wel enough? I can't have you drooping about and fainting in Her Majesty's presence.”

”I feel much better, thank you, ma'am.”

”Then you may as wel start with the Blue Room.

Be thorough. I doubt the Tranter chit ever was.”

The Blue Room was general y used in the evenings, before and after formal dinners. On occasion, Her Majesty entertained larger groups there in the afternoon but those were special occasions, of which today was not one. Yet as Mary entered, she thought she heard the second set of doors click shut. She stopped. It was a vast hal , a former bal room that had been converted only a few years earlier into a drawing room, and more likely than not she'd heard only an echo. Yet as she moved slowly down its length, she could have sworn she heard steps hurrying away.

She quickened her pace, glancing from side to side as she went. It was ridiculous to think that someone was lurking behind an ornamental screen or beside a fireplace, but she felt suspicious nonetheless. The door at the other side was indeed not quite closed, which probably accounted for the noise she'd heard: a slight draught would have made the door click as though just being shut.

She turned to begin her dusting then turned back. For caution's sake, opened one of the doors very slowly. Nothing. See? She real y was becoming overly suspicious about things like this. Even if it had been somebody closing the door, it was likely a footman about his work.

Right. Dusting. She selected a high shelf quite at random and began. The most annoying thing about dusting in the more public rooms was the sheer quant.i.ty of delicate ornaments one had to lift, wipe and replace, al in the course of a few running feet of display s.p.a.ce. Perhaps the most astonis.h.i.+ng thing about the thefts, al of which had been from this room, was that they'd been remarked at al . She worked her way clockwise round the room, moving from high to low as she'd been taught.

When she got to the fireplace mantel, she frowned. There was something off, here. Taking a step back, she looked at the array of treasures displayed: an Ormolu clock, a smal antique vase, an idyl ic rural scene executed in Dresden china, various bits of s.h.i.+ning crystal... Yes. The vase was missing its mate, throwing off the symmetry of the mantelpiece display. A quick check of the surrounding area showed that it hadn't been moved to a nearby table or ledge. Most peculiar. As she peered closer, Mary noticed a ghostly pattern in the acc.u.mulated dust of the mantel. There: a circle where the vase should stand, now partly overlaid by a tiny carved-ivory snuffbox.

Mary's scalp p.r.i.c.kled. Had she been seconds from seeing the Palace thief in action? She darted to the doors she'd just closed. Nothing, of course.

And the hal way offered no clues no hastily dropped monogrammed handkerchief, for example.

Had she real y expected such a convenient giveaway? Tempting as it was, she decided against pursuit. By now, the thief might be anywhere in the Palace perhaps even outside the Palace and a smal vase like that could easily be carried in an overcoat or a handbag. She was only wasting time and ignoring the scene in which the theft had been carried out.

She returned to the mantel and looked again at the remaining vase. It was quite likely one of a pair, depicting as it did a cla.s.sical scene: Persephone in the Underworld, clutching her fateful pomegranate.

The missing vase ought to show Persephone reunited with her mother, Demeter. Mary ought to be able to confirm that in the register of household goods. If so, it also revealed one of two possibilities about the thief: either he or she did not possess a rudimentary cla.s.sical education, or he or she had been too un.o.bservant or too hasty to see that the vase was one of a pair. They were worth more as companion pieces than separated.

Honoria Dalrymple remained an unlikely culprit.

Mary might not have considered her at al , but for the night of her subterranean adventure. Even so, there was no incentive for a rich, wel -born lady to steal such relatively paltry items. Dalrymple must be after something else entirely. But al the servants remained suspects. Al except Amy Tranter, of course. And that was the best news to come of this new theft: Amy might have lost Octavius Jones, but she could at least reclaim her job.

After a swift but comprehensive survey of the room, Mary hurried below stairs, found Mrs Shaw and laid before her a concise explanation of what she'd found. Given her history with the housekeeper, she didn't expect praise or instant action but even so she was startled by Mrs Shaw's response.

”Missing, you say?” said Mrs Shaw with a thin smile. ”Are you very sure, Quinn?” It wasn't a question.

”Yes, ma'am. I searched the entire room for the vase.”

”And what makes you so certain it was missing in the first place?”

Mary bit back an impatient I've already told you.

”The mantelpiece arrangement was strange, ma'am.

Uneven.” A parlour-maid wouldn't know the word symmetrical.

”And so you deduced the missing vase.”

”I think so, ma'am.” It was too far out of character to demonstrate knowledge of the story of Persephone's rescue from the Underworld. ”There was a circle on the mantel that was less dusty. It looks like the base of a vase to me.”

”And on this flimsy I hesitate to say 'evidence'

this flimsy tale, you wish me to drop everything and report yet another disgraceful episode to Her Majesty?”

Mary swal owed her temper. ”Isn't there a book, ma'am, that lists al the ornaments in each room? It would show whether there's a vase missing. Or anything else.”

”It wil and I shal consult it in my own good time.”

Mrs Shaw looked down her nose at Mary. ”Not when an irresponsible, half-wild, would-be parlour-maid tel s me to.”

Those adjectives weren't entirely inaccurate, Mary conceded, considering her role from Mrs Shaw's perspective. Al the same, she didn't understand the housekeeper's frosty hostility towards her. And as she would carry that reputation whether she earned it or not, she'd nothing to lose in pus.h.i.+ng the woman a bit further. ”With respect, ma'am, if the vase was stolen, you'd want to report it straight away.”

”But that's a large if, Quinn especial y as I suspect your eagerness for action is because you have your own agenda.”

This was half surprising, half entirely too predictable for words. ”Ma'am?”

”The simplest and stupidest thing in the world for you to do would be to hide a vase and claim it was stolen, thus exonerating your little friend Tranter.”

”I give you my word, Mrs Shaw. I never even thought of it. Please. Search my room, if you don't believe me.”

”A very good idea, Quinn. But it wouldn't be in your room, if you'd taken it.” Mrs Shaw smiled, very unpleasantly indeed. ”You're rather deep, and very sly. I'l not find anything there. But watch your step, my girl: when I sack you, it'l be for very clear reasons. And you'l never work as a domestic again.” And with that, the housekeeper swept from the room.