The Talisman Ring

‘But it is infamous that they have not told you!’ declared Eustacie. ‘Je n’en reviendrai jamais !’

‘If it’s all the same to you, miss, I’d just as soon you’d talk in a Christian language,’ said Mr Stubbs. ‘What was it they had ought to have warned me about?’

Eustacie spread out her hands. ‘His pistols!’ she said dramatically. ‘Do you not know that my cousin is the man who put out sixteen candles by shooting them, and did not miss one?’

Mr Stubbs cast an involuntary glance behind him. ‘He put out sixteen candles?’ he demanded.

‘But yes, have I not said so?’

‘And he didn’t miss one of them?’

‘He never misses,’ said Eustacie.

Mr Stubbs drew in his breath. ‘They had ought to have warned me!’ he said feelingly.

‘Certainly they –’ Eustacie broke off, startled by a crash in the room above their heads, and the muffled sound of a shriek. Who could possibly be upstairs save Ludovic, she could not imagine, but Ludovic would hardly shriek, even if he had knocked something over in one of the bedchambers.

Then, to her amazement, she heard a door open, and hurrying footsteps approach the head of the stairs. A high-pitched voice wailed: ‘Oh, oh, what shall I do? Oh, Mr Nye, look what I’ve done!’ And down the stairs came a gawky female in a large mob-cap and a stuff gown which Eustacie, transfixed by astonishment, instantly recognized as Miss Thane’s. A shawl enveloped the apparition’s shoulders, and she held one corner of it up to her eyes with her left hand. In her right she carried the fragments of a flagon that had once contained Miss Thane’s French perfume. ‘Oh, Mr Nye!’ she whimpered. ‘Mistress will kill me if she finds out – oh!’ The last word took the form of a scream as the new-comer caught sight of Eustacie. ‘Oh, miss, I beg pardon!’ she gasped. ‘I thought you was gone out! I’ve – I’ve had an accident, miss! Oh, I’m that sorry, miss, I’m sure.’

Eustacie made a strangled sound in her throat, and rose nobly to the occasion. Running forward, she seized the gawky female’s right wrist, and cried in a quivering voice: ‘Wretched, wicked creature! You have broken my scent bottle! Ah, it is too much, enfin !’

The jagged fragments of glass were relinquished into her keeping, and with them, slid into the palm of her hand, a great ruby ring.

Nine

A torrent of impassioned French smote the Runner’s bemused ears. He stared, quite aghast, at Eustacie, who had changed in a flash from a pleasant-spoken young female into a raging virago. She snatched the jagged fragments of glass from the abigail’s hand, broke into English for one moment to implore Mr Stubbs to look at what the wicked, clumsy creature had done, threw the fragments into the grate, shook the abigail, and in French said rapidly: ‘He means to search the house. Have you taken your clothes out of your room? Answer yes, or no!’

‘Oh yes, miss, indeed I took them to Sir Hugh’s room, like you told me!’

Mr Stubbs began to feel sorry for the hapless abigail, whose sobs grew more and more shattering. This suddenly terrible little Frenchwoman seemed to have what he would call a real spiteful temper. Nothing appeased her; he was not at all surprised to see the abigail so frightened; he wouldn’t put it beyond the young lady to box the poor girl’s ears at any moment.

In the middle of this spirited scene Nye came into the coffee-room with Clem at his heels, and stopped upon the threshold, transfixed by astonishment. For a moment he did not connect Ludovic with the great gawky girl, noisily weeping into her shawl, but before he had time to speak, Eustacie whirled round to face him, and poured forth a string of complaints about her supposed abigail. She desired him to tell her whether she had not sufficient cause to hand the girl over to the Law, and indicated with a sweep of her hand the presence of a Bow Street Runner.

Nye, who had caught the glint of pale-gold hair peeping from under the gawky female’s mob-cap, now observed that her left arm seemed in some odd fashion to be wound up in her voluminous shawl. The puzzled look vanished from his face; he came farther into the room, and joined with Eustacie in reproaching ‘Lucy’ for her carelessness. Mr Stubbs, quite overwhelmed by so much loud and confused talk, withdrew to the other end of the room, and mopped his brow. He gazed at Eustacie in growing consternation, and took a hasty step backward when she suddenly rounded on him and demanded why he stood there doing nothing, instead of instantly arrest ‘Lucy.’

‘Oh come, miss! Come, now!’ said Nye soothingly. ‘It’s not as bad as that! The wench meant no harm. I’ll have Clem take up a pail of water and a scrubbing-brush, or we’ll have the whole house reeking of scent.’

‘And in my room!’ exclaimed Eustacie. ‘It is an outrage! It must be at once scrubbed, and I will tell you that it is Lucy herself who shall scrub it, for it is not at all Clem’s fault. Up, you!’

The Runner, seeing ‘Lucy’ driven towards the staircase, heaved a sigh of relief. Mistress and maid vanished from sight; Clem, at a nod from Nye, went away to draw a pail of water; and Nye turned to his unwelcome visitor, and said with a wry smile, and a jerk of his thumb over his shoulder: ‘Them Frenchies!’

‘Unchristian, that’s what I call ’em,’ responded Mr Stubbs severely. ‘I fair compassionate that wench.’

‘She’ll be turned off,’ said Nye with a resigned shrug. ‘That will make the third in as many weeks. Miss has the temper of the fiend, as I know. What can I do for you?’

Above, in Miss Thane’s bedchamber, Eustacie, from whom stifled giggles had escaped all the way up the stairs, sank down upon the bed, and with her handkerchief pressed to her mouth, gave way to inextinguishable laughter. Ludovic, twisting the shawl more securely round his arm, said: ‘Of all the spitfires! I wouldn’t be a maid of yours for any money. Now what’s the matter?’

‘You l-look so rid-ridiculous!’ gasped Eustacie, rocking herself to and fro.

Ludovic looked critically at his reflection in the mirror. ‘A fine, strapping girl,’ he said. ‘But what beats me is how you females ever contrive to dress at all. I couldn’t do up the plaguey hooks and eyes on this gown. That’s why I took the shawl. I don’t care for Sarah’s scent much, do you?’

Indeed, the room reeked of heavy scent. Eustacie raised her head to say unsteadily: ‘But of course not, a whole bottle of it. It is affreux ! Open the window! Those Runners have come for you, Ludovic. What are we to do?’

He had thrust open one of the casements, and was leaning out to breathe the unscented air, but he turned his head at that. ‘How many of them are there?’

‘Two. There is one on guard over the backstairs. I think it is Basil who must have told them to

look for you here.’