“Lord Finch has been called to his conservatory, a
broken pipe or some such nonsense. He’ll be out with his orchids all night.”
“But I need a writ from the magistrate if we are to see this done right.”
“There’s no need for the writ, Mr. Holmes,” Lady Finch declared. “Leaving her betrothal is one thing, but we have a more serious crime at hand. I want this girl arrested for thievery.”
“Thievery?” Jemmy and Amanda both burst out.
“Amanda is no thief,” he continued, taking her by the arm and pulling her behind him.
His mother’s eyes widened at his familiar use of her name, but she said nothing on the subject. Instead she continued to address Holmes. “Arrest her, I say, for she left my home with the Finch Diamonds. The girl is a thief.”
Amanda’s hands went to her throat, pushing back her blue pelisse and revealing the glittering evidence that convicted her more quickly than a hired jury.
But Jemmy could also see that from the surprise on her face she’d completely forgotten she was wearing them.
“Oh, my lady, I’m no thief. It’s just that I was in a hurry and—”
“Bah!” Lady Finch said, now in complete high dudgeon over the matter. “I will not listen to your excuses. Not only are you breaking your bargain, you also decided to take advantage of my generosity and steal from me.” Her hand fluttered over her forehead, and she wavered on her feet, until Holmes rushed forward and helped her into a nearby chair. “The ball is ruined. My good reputation lost. I’ll be the laughingstock of the ton.”
“Don’t you think you are putting on the brown a bit, Mother?” Jemmy said. “Amanda panicked is all, bridal nerves and such. She’s more than willing to go on with the ball and the match, but that’s hardly possible with her in jail.” He slanted a glance in his mother’s direction and could see her military mind working over how best to salvage her fête.
“My lady,” Holmes protested. “This is but another dodge. Your son is an accomplice, and under the law should be jailed as well.”
“That would be demmed inconvenient, sir,” Jemmy told him, “for I’m slated to dance the first set with the lady.”
Amanda looked about to add her own protest to the plan, but outside in the hallway, a trio of voices rose that seemed to strike her dumb.
“I told you, Cedric, we would be late. Now we won’t be announced properly,” came the strident tone of a very vexed lady.
Unlike everyone else, who turned toward the door, Jemmy watched Amanda, and with each word argued outside, she grew paler and paler.
She knew these people.
“Demmed waste of money,” an older man with a gravelly voice complained. “First that charlatan from London you insisted I summon, now running down here, and for what? Why, it’s a wretched crush in there, Marianne.”
The anxious and whiny voice of his wife rose in pitch. “All the better to find Regina a match. With all the young men here, think of what we’ll save if we can arrange an understanding tonight and not have to go to London for the Season.”
“Mother! You promised I would get a Season!” wailed the obviously unhappy Regina. “I will not be bartered off like some—”
“Bah!” Cedric complained. “You’ll be wed, gel, and when I say. Now we’re here, aren’t we? I see no point in leaving, especially since I’ve gone to the expense of driving all this way—not until we’ve seen what prospects are about. Make for a tidy savings if we got rid of you tonight.”
“Oh, no!” Amanda whispered, so softly that Jemmy doubted anyone else heard her. But she recovered from her shock quickly and spun around to face the constable. “Take me to jail,” she demanded. “I confess everything. I was trying to escape being matched and I was trying to steal these diamonds. Now I demand to be taken to jail, right this moment!”
The only person not gaping at her was Esme, who smiled as if suddenly everything was going as she’d planned it all along.
Holmes, having gathered his wits back together only too quickly, appeared more than happy to comply, while Lady Finch looked positively murderous.
Jemmy took one glance at the set of Amanda’s jaw and knew she’d rather go to jail than face whatever awaited her in the ballroom. Or rather, whoever.
But how could he allow it? Lock a dying woman away for the night? What if something were to happen to her? If she became ill, or worse…He wasn’t about to leave her to meet her fate alone. “Mr. Holmes,” he said, “if you are going to arrest Miss Smythe, then you must take me as well, for I have aided and assisted the lady in her plans to escape.”
Holmes rubbed his hands together in delight at having yet another confession dropped into his lap, but that didn’t stop him from looking to Lady Finch for confirmation.
After all, she was the magistrate for Bramley Hollow in everything but name.
She waved her hands at her son. “Oh, take him as well, Holmes. And good riddance. A night in jail might bring them both to their senses.”