“It is a deuced odd time for deliveries, I don’t mind saying so,” he muttered as he handed the package over. “But the man didn’t wait for me to say anything. He just shoved the package at me and then left.”
Tahlia snorted as she accepted the package and studied it.
“Who is it from?” Tahlia murmured thoughtfully. She wasn’t really asking anybody but Cecily considered it a question.
“I dunno,'” Cecily replied with a shrug. “Open it and see.”
The rather casual relationship between the three of them was unusual to say the least. But then, nothing Tahlia ever did was normal or fit within the parameters deemed acceptable by London’s standards. It concerned her little, though, given how lowly she considered them to be.
“Nobody in London would care whether I was here or not. I certainly didn’t inform anybody that I intended to return,” Tahlia muttered.
She lifted her brows at Oscar and Cecily who both shook their heads.
“So how did the sender find out I am here?” Tahlia persisted.
Oscar shrugged. “Open it,” he urged. He tucked his hands into his pockets while Tahlia began to tug at the string binding the outer wrapping around the package.
“I wonder what it is?” She whispered as she unfolded the hessian wrapped around a small black box.
Excitement warred with curiosity as she lifted the lid. The first thing she saw was a small white square card which contained some writing. Holding the box in one hand, she tipped the note toward the fire so she could read the scrawling script properly, and read aloud:
To a delightful gem, I hope this pleases you, my dear. Until we meet again. Yours, Bingham.
Tahlia’s excitement evaporated in an instant. She stared at the box in her hand warily. Her first instinct was to slap it onto the table, and instruct Oscar to take it away. Instead, with something akin to foreboding, she carefully removed the lid completely and studied the unwelcome contents.
“Oh, dear Lord,” she muttered in dismay.
“What is it, ma’am?” Cecily gasped when she realised how pale Tahlia had gone. When Tahlia didn’t reply, she peered at the box’s contents over Tahlia’s shoulder.
“Why, ma’am, they are beautiful,” she gasped but then hesitated when she assessed the necklace a little more closely. “Well, they are a bit old, but they are still pretty.”
“No, they are not, Cecily, they are ghastly,” Tahlia argued.
She stared down at the offending jewels in distaste and snapped the lid closed with a resounding thud as she stared at the small card.
“What’s wrong with them?” Cecily asked in confusion.
“Everything,” Tahlia retorted. “It is not the jewels. It is the sender.”
“Do you not like the sender?” Cecily asked without a thought to the fact that it was none of her business. Matters like this had nothing to do with a maid who shouldn’t ask such questions, but she did anyway.
“No, the sender is an oaf. Not only is he old, but he is big, pompous, and should have absolutely no idea I am here,” Tahlia stormed. “Assuming that these come from the Bingham I think I know.”
“Which Bingham is it?” Oscar asked curiously.
Tahlia doubted he would know the man, but told him anyway. “Bingham Montague. He was an old acquaintance of my uncle’s. I didn’t really know him all that well. We certainly were not well enough acquainted for him to consider it acceptable to do something like this.”
Agitated, she stood up and began to pace around.
“I want them gone.” She declared suddenly. “I don’t even want them in the house.”
“Can you send them back so soon?” Oscar asked with a frown.
He didn’t know much about how this kind of thing worked, but suspected that the sender would be deeply offended to be rebuffed so quickly.
“Yes. Package them back up please, Cecily,” Tahlia ordered. She turned to Oscar. “Send them back to Bingham Montague with instructions that the lady-”
Tahlia suddenly stopped and stared blankly at the wall.