be plenty of time after we have eaten.”
Without further argument Hester went upstairs to the spare bedroom where Daisy had put her bag, and opened itto find her comb and some additional pins. She poked her hand down the side hopefully and felt around. No comb. She tried the other side and her fingers touched it after a
moment.
The pins were harder. They should be in a little screw of paper, but after several minutes she still had not come across it.
Impatiently she tipped up the bag and emptied the contents out onto the bed. Still the pins were not immediately visible. She picked up her chemise that she had changed out of in Mrs. Farraline’s house when she had rested. It was hard to realize that had been only yesterday. She shook it and something flew out and went onto the floor with a faint sound. It must be the screw of paper with the pins. It was the right size and weight. She went around to the far side of the bed and knelt down to find it. It was gone again. She moved her hand over the carpet, gently feeling for it.
There it was. Next to the leg of the bed. She picked it up, and instantly knew something was wrong. It was not paper, or even loose pins. It was a complicated scroll of metal. She looked at it. Then her stomach lurched and her mouth went suddenly dry. It was a jeweled pin, a hoop and scroll set with diamonds and large gray pearls. She had never seen it before, but its description was sharp in her mind. It was Mary Farraline’s brooch, the one she had said was her favorite and which she had left behind because the dress it complemented was stained.
With clumsy fingers she clasped it, and, her hair still trailing out of its pins, she went back down the stairs and into the green room.
Callandra looked up.
“What is it?” She had taken one look at Hester’s face and knew there was something new and seriously wrong. “What has happened?”
Hester held out the pin.
“It is Mary Farraline’s,” she said huskily. “I just found it in my bag.”
“You had better sit down,” Callandra said grimly, holding out her hand for the brooch.
Hester sank into the chair gratefully. Her legs seemed to have no strength in them.
Callandra took the brooch and turned it over carefully, examining the pearls, then the hallmark on the back.
“I think it is probably worth a good deal,” she said in a soft, very grave voice. “At least ninety to a hundred pounds.” She looked at Hester with a frown between her brows. “I suppose you have no idea how it came to be in your bag?”
“No—none at all. Mrs. Farraline said she had not brought it with her because the dress she wears it with had been stained.”
“Then it would seem that her maid did not obey instructions very well.” Callandra bit her lip. “And is also … a great deal less than honest. It is hard to see how this could have happened by accident. Hester, there is something seriously wrong here, but try as I might, I cannot understand it. We need assistance, and I propose that you ask William …”
Hester froze.
“… to give us his advice,” Callandra finished. “This is not something we can deal with ourselves, nor would it be sensible to try. My dear, there is something very wrong. The poor woman is dead. It may be some kind of unfortunate error that her jewelry has found its way into your belongings, but for the life of me I cannot think what.”
“But do you think …” Hester began, hating the thought of going to Monk for help. It seemed so ineffectual, and at the moment she felt too tired and stunned to be up to the kind of emotional battle Monk would engender.
“Yes I do,” Callandra said, yielding nothing. “Or I would not have suggested it. I will not override your wishes, but I cannot urge you strongly enough to get counsel and do so without delay.”
Hester stood still for several moments, thinking, trying tofind an explanation so she would not have to go to Monk, and even as she was doing it, knowing it was
Without further argument Hester went upstairs to the spare bedroom where Daisy had put her bag, and opened itto find her comb and some additional pins. She poked her hand down the side hopefully and felt around. No comb. She tried the other side and her fingers touched it after a
moment.
The pins were harder. They should be in a little screw of paper, but after several minutes she still had not come across it.
Impatiently she tipped up the bag and emptied the contents out onto the bed. Still the pins were not immediately visible. She picked up her chemise that she had changed out of in Mrs. Farraline’s house when she had rested. It was hard to realize that had been only yesterday. She shook it and something flew out and went onto the floor with a faint sound. It must be the screw of paper with the pins. It was the right size and weight. She went around to the far side of the bed and knelt down to find it. It was gone again. She moved her hand over the carpet, gently feeling for it.
There it was. Next to the leg of the bed. She picked it up, and instantly knew something was wrong. It was not paper, or even loose pins. It was a complicated scroll of metal. She looked at it. Then her stomach lurched and her mouth went suddenly dry. It was a jeweled pin, a hoop and scroll set with diamonds and large gray pearls. She had never seen it before, but its description was sharp in her mind. It was Mary Farraline’s brooch, the one she had said was her favorite and which she had left behind because the dress it complemented was stained.
With clumsy fingers she clasped it, and, her hair still trailing out of its pins, she went back down the stairs and into the green room.
Callandra looked up.
“What is it?” She had taken one look at Hester’s face and knew there was something new and seriously wrong. “What has happened?”
Hester held out the pin.
“It is Mary Farraline’s,” she said huskily. “I just found it in my bag.”
“You had better sit down,” Callandra said grimly, holding out her hand for the brooch.
Hester sank into the chair gratefully. Her legs seemed to have no strength in them.
Callandra took the brooch and turned it over carefully, examining the pearls, then the hallmark on the back.
“I think it is probably worth a good deal,” she said in a soft, very grave voice. “At least ninety to a hundred pounds.” She looked at Hester with a frown between her brows. “I suppose you have no idea how it came to be in your bag?”
“No—none at all. Mrs. Farraline said she had not brought it with her because the dress she wears it with had been stained.”
“Then it would seem that her maid did not obey instructions very well.” Callandra bit her lip. “And is also … a great deal less than honest. It is hard to see how this could have happened by accident. Hester, there is something seriously wrong here, but try as I might, I cannot understand it. We need assistance, and I propose that you ask William …”
Hester froze.
“… to give us his advice,” Callandra finished. “This is not something we can deal with ourselves, nor would it be sensible to try. My dear, there is something very wrong. The poor woman is dead. It may be some kind of unfortunate error that her jewelry has found its way into your belongings, but for the life of me I cannot think what.”
“But do you think …” Hester began, hating the thought of going to Monk for help. It seemed so ineffectual, and at the moment she felt too tired and stunned to be up to the kind of emotional battle Monk would engender.
“Yes I do,” Callandra said, yielding nothing. “Or I would not have suggested it. I will not override your wishes, but I cannot urge you strongly enough to get counsel and do so without delay.”
Hester stood still for several moments, thinking, trying tofind an explanation so she would not have to go to Monk, and even as she was doing it, knowing it was
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