“Well, there you have it,” Mr. Belvedere said. “I mean—I’m dreadfully sorry, Lady Marston. But you all heard the woman—It could’ve been anyone, seaman or gentleman.”
Mrs. Scott’s fine brow furrowed as she studied Lady Marston. “Do we know when the jewels went missing? Did you notice them this morning, ma’am?”
“I don’t recall, but I am certain I would have noticed if they were missing. I noticedat oncewhen I opened it tonight.”
Minnie came forward meekly. “We didn’t open the box this morning, ma’am. You used only a shawl, a gold ring—from the drawer, you see?—and the onyx comb. For none of them did I open the main compartment.”
“Of course. Then it was yesterday evening?” Lady Marston confirmed
Minnie’s eyes went round. “Oh, yes, ma’am! And I canswearit was present then, for I moved it aside to tuck in your garnets.” She managed to stifle another sob. “I’m so stupid; I ought to have thought of that.”
Lady Marston’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Then it may have been taken any time in the past day. I do not think anyone is above suspicion.”
Anne looked concerned while also suppressing a yawn.
Captain Wentworth frowned. “I daresay a search must be undertaken again, but Anne is tired, and I don’t feel fresh myself. It is weary work to begin such a thing near-on midnight. And…” His lips quirked. “Few of us are fit to be seen.”
Everyone shifted a little, having temporarily forgotten their state ofdishabille. Mr. Belvedere even winked at Mrs. Scott, who turned her chin away from him and pulled her shawl a little more tightly over her hastily buttoned dress.
“I propose,” Captain Wentworth went on, “that we search tomorrow. No nook or cranny exists now that will not exist then, and I do not relish the idea of searching in the dark! Unless whoever took Lady Marston’s necklace hascast it to the void—”he gestured to the sea and Lady Marston huffed in shock and displeasure— “then it will be just as possible to discover it on the morrow. Will you accept this, Lady Marston?”
“I cannot like it, but you make a good point about the light.” Her jaw was tight; her teeth grinding. “But I suggest whoever took my jewels, if they be in this room, return my amethysts lest I bring charges against you in Lisbon!”
There was a somewhat anticlimactic silence, broken only by Minnie’s sniff.
“Er—I have only one addendum,” Mr. Belvedere said. “Since I am the main suspect, I really feel you ought to search my cabin now. And fiend seize it—myself, too, I suppose.” He rose andbegan to undo his wrist cuffs. “This is all a dashed hum, but I’ll truly be in the suds if you all turn against me now.”
“You will hardly strip down in front of the ladies,” Wentworth said.
“Ha—of course not. I’m bold as brass but not tap-hackled.”
The captain gestured to his own cabin. “Sir.”
Richard and Sir Mark searched Mr. Belvedere’s cabin while Captain Wentworth and Captain Smythe made sure that there was no necklace secreted about Mr. Belvedere’s person.
“Should we search my cabin also?” Mrs. Scott put in quietly. “Iamthe only other person with a single occupant cabin.”
“I hardly think so,” Anne said. “I cannot imagine you would steal from your own—from Lady Marston. But thisisan unhappy development. I do not like to think of someone so desperate in our midst.”
“It is quite silly, too,” Caroline said. “They ought not to make a stir before Lisbon! It would’ve been much wiser to wait until we were in port, would it not? Then they might take the amethysts and disappear on the continent. Now they have given us at least a week or two to search!”
Sophia smiled tiredly. “You would be a cleverer rogue than our mystery thief, Mrs. Fitzwilliam. You have the mind for it.”
The ship rocked a little more than any of them expected and Caroline and Anne both grabbed at the dining table. Sophia’s shoulder thudded into the wall, and she laughed breathlessly. “I’ll just go back to bed then—if I’m not needed. Goodnight to you both!”
9
Sophia Scottdidhave her own cabin, and she was genuinely thankful for it. To have even a tiny space that was solelyher own, was quite blissful. There were no rude stares, no quiet sneers, and no stern commands that could follow her here.
She might lie in bed with her lantern lit for however many hours of the night she wished. She could throw off her covers on a warm night, and no one cared. She could read her few precious novels by Mrs. Radcliffe in the wee hours, and no one was there to tell her how irresponsible she was. Nor did she have to rise hours before dawn to work. There was not much todoonboard this ship,and she appreciated the sheer luxury of it all. Her education and parentage gave her a lady’s tastes and sensibilities, which the last few years of her life hadnotsupported. That was her own fault, but the return to a life of ease was greatly valued.
She had been widowed a little over six months ago, but she was not particularly tragic about that either. Her husband was not the worst of men, but he had not improved over the past seven years. And his work had been such that a short life-expectancy was the norm. He was—although she had not beenwith him at the end of his life—better off dying from a bullet wound than in gaol or at the end of a noose at Newgate. Thenubbing cheat, he would’ve called it.
She had met and married Jem after she had run away from school, when she was sick of being one of the “Marston by-blows.” In retrospect, her running away had been reckless beyond belief, and she was lucky she had not suffered a far worse fate. She had been lucky to fall in with Jem Scott, even though he did have a temper to match his Scottish background. At any rate, he had married her when she turned eighteen, and in his own way, looked after her.
But she did not want to think about Jem. The problem—among themanyproblems that assailed her at present—was that shedidhave some experience with thievery. She would never let it slip, but every now and then a turn of phrase came perilously near exposing her. She’d spurned her upbringing (in those days), and she’d learned to pick-pockets and play like a card shark. She didnottake Lady Marston’s amethysts, but she feared suspicion might fall on her anyway.
Sophia finally slept, but a nightmare rendered her last sleep—just at dawn—abortive.
