I turned to the maharani again. “Did you know about the scheme to retrieve the diamond?”
She pressed her lips together in an expression of disapproval, but I had a sense she was not entirely displeased. “Not at first. Anjali was supposed to be staying at the Hall as the guest of her schoolfriend, and Bhairav was meant to join her for a visit. It was not until I announced my intention to come to London that Bhairav broke down and told me the truth.” She looked complacently from one grandchild to the next. “I am exasperated with their flair for melodrama, but a sense of theatricality is not the worst thing if one means to spend one’s life in politics.”
“What now?” I asked Anjali. “Will you give up your studies into galvanism?”
“One of the best ways for India to demonstrate her worth is to develop new technologies and means of production,” she said coolly.“There is nothing more political than the ability to take care of one’s own people.”
The maharani rose smoothly and the rest of us followed suit. She shook hands with Harry. “I believe your motives were not good, and I think your character is entirely defective, but that is not our affair. On behalf of my family, I apologize for any inconvenience you may have suffered.”
He gaped but recovered his composure swiftly. “Thank you, Your Excellency,” he murmured.
She extended her hand to Stoker. “Mr.Templeton-Vane.”
Stoker kissed her hand and she moved to me. “Miss Speedwell.” Her mouth twitched a little. “I recognize in you a similar spirit to my granddaughter. I think you might well have become friends under a different set of circumstances.”
“I hope, if it is not too presumptuous, she might consider me one now,” I said.
Anjali smiled and shook my hand. “Good-bye, Miss Speedwell.”
Anjali even shook hands with Harry, who had the grace to look abashed. “I am sorry if I distressed Effie. She is a nice girl, all things considered, and I hope she did not take it too hard.”
Anjali laughed. “Effie? She never believed you for a second. She is the only one who knew the moment you arrived that you could not be Jonathan.”
He stared at her in astonishment. “But how?”
“Ask her yourself,” she said, lifting her chin. “I am finished answering the questions of Englishmen.”
We left, collecting a wide-eyed J. J. from the foyer as we went. We hurtled down the stairs and she whisked us into the linen closet again. She scribbled notes on her cuff until Stoker gently plucked the pencil from her grasp.
“You cannot write any of it,” he reminded her.
“Blast and damnation,” she began.
“But we have something better for you,” I promised her. “Come tomorrow for tea and we will tell you everything you want to know about a fiendish villainess who swindled thousands out of the cream of Brazilian nobility.”
Her eyes widened and she looked at each of us in turn. Harry gave her a miserable sigh. “Very well. Yes. Come to tea and I will tell you whatever you want to know. Print it all.”
J. J. tweaked his moustaches and sent us on our way.
As we settled into a hackney for the drive back to Bishop’s Folly, I felt oddly deflated. “I do not like it,” I said, my brow furrowing.
“What? The mystery of the ghostly light on the moor is solved, the diamond has been returned to its rightful owner—”
“And Harry Spenlove will soon be taking his leave of you,” Harry put in lightly.
“But Effie Hathaway is still at the mercy of a family who respect neither her abilities nor her ambitions,” I protested.
“She has got the last laugh,” Stoker reminded me. “She carried out a criminal enterprise under their noses.”
“Rather too well,” Harry protested. “I might have done hard labor because of that little harridan.”
“She is unhappy,” I said simply. “And she is likely to be for the rest of her life.”
Stoker and Harry and I were still gently bickering about Effie Hathaway when we returned to the Belvedere. There was a strange sense of unfinished business about the whole matter, I decided, and it seemed odd to realize how much had happened in only a few short days.
“Shall we sleep here again tonight?” Harry suggested. There was something boyishly hopeful in his tone, and when I looked at him, he blushed a little. “It’s just that, I mean to leave by tomorrow night. The longer I stay, the likelier that Isabel will find me, and I’d just as soonnot have that happen. And spending the night here felt... matey,” he finished. “I haven’t had that in a while, you know.”
I looked at Stoker, who shrugged. “I will fetch the aguardiente,” I said. We took a bottle of the heady stuff to the snuggery, where we settled in with the dogs. It was both reward for the successful conclusion of an investigation and anaesthetic for our various injuries. Bruises and swelling had begun to set in, and we were soon nodding over our cups.
