Garth Nix - Newt’s Emerald

“What I don’t understand,” said Harnett, oblivious to this sally, “is these Newington-Lacy cousins. Why head off to secure a replacement gem instead of searching for the stolen one? Their leaving looks suspicious in the extreme.”

“Adventure!” interrupted the General. “Remember when you were under twenty, Charles? Any excuse to escape to adventure was welcome. Why you took it yourself, joining the colours.”

“Oh,” said Truthful, suddenly seeing her cousins’ eagerness to help as less unselfish concern and more simple high spirits. Or indeed, the effect of spirits . . . she hadn’t mentioned the rum punch to the General and Major Harnett.

“Not that it doesn’t do them credit,” said General Leye. “Brave lads. But they didn’t think it through. Neither did Lady Truthful. Now, we rule out the cloud-catcher or smoke-devil. Nothing of that sort could even touch an objet de puissance like the Emerald! That would have been a bit of misdirection from someone. Easy enough to swirl a bit of cloud about, don’t need much talent or power for that. No, there has to be a human agency at work and as always, I suspect a fairly obvious one.”

“An obvious one . . .” said Truthful, her voice faltering.

“Lady Truthful has been too trusting. I fear she suffers from a blindness common in the well-bred. Plain as the nose on your face.”

“Blindness,” mused Harnett, a lock of his dark hair escaping to fall across his brooding forehead. “Yes, yes . . . I see.”

“You mean you know what happened to the Emerald?” asked Truthful. “After simply hearing my, that is my version of Lady Truthful’s story?”

“I have a very good suspicion that must be tested,” said the General, leaning toward the fireplace to firmly stub out his cigar on the head of a bronze firedog. He settled back in his chair and said, “Those of higher rank do tend to forget the servants, both for good and ill. Too used to paying them no mind. Not sensible, for many reasons.”

“You mean . . .” faltered Truthful.

“The maid. Agatha. Only possible person. Don’t believe anyone else could have entered in the short space of darkness. The Emerald was knocked to the floor when the table went over. It must have been picked up when Agatha brought the lamp in. I expect she curtsied, did some bent-over truckling or something similar?”

“Agatha!” said Truthful, stunned. In hindsight, it was obvious, of course, once the magical intervention was discounted. The dropping of the smelling salts, her voluminous dress billowing out as she knelt, covering the Emerald, so she could pick it up with her left hand while fetching the smelling salts with her right.

“But Agatha has been . . . Lady Truthful’s maid since she before she was twelve! Seven years!” she exclaimed. “What could she do with the Emerald anyway?”

“Certainly couldn’t sell it,” replied the General, reaching across to pour himself another brandy from the decanter on the side-table. “She would be very unlikely to have the contacts of a proper jewel-thief. She probably stole it for someone else. Given the Emerald’s properties, it’s more than possible she had been waiting to steal it for seven years. Who did she work for before she came to Lady Truthful, d’ye know?”

“No,” said Truthful, who really didn’t know. A second later, she realised that would be the only possible answer the chevalier could give. Looking back at the General, she saw the twinkle in his eye again, and with a sinking heart she knew that he had penetrated her disguise, but wouldn’t give her away if she were clever enough to keep up the deception. Harnett didn’t appear to have noticed, and the General was enjoying pulling the wool over his young colleague’s eyes.

“Pity,” said the General. “I would investigate this Agatha closely, and her past employers. Is she still with Lady Truthful? She hasn’t run away, or disappeared?”

“No, she is still there,” replied Truthful, thinking back to the last time she’d seen Agatha, and her surprise entrance into Lady Badgery’s room. Had she been listening at the door? Probably, she decided, as she thought back over the years of their association. Agatha had never been close to her, not like Parkins was to Lady Badgery. Strange, thought Truthful, that this had never crossed her mind before. Agatha had always been there, cantankerous and difficult, though generally efficient. But she had never shown any kindness or given the slightest hint of affection. Now, as Truthful thought of just how much Agatha had been an accepted part of the background of her life, she realised she knew very little about the maid, her true character and her private life. Or what she might have been before she came to look after a little girl of twelve.

“I suggest that she be questioned immediately,” continued the General. “I am sure Major Harnett will be willing to assist you.”

“Certainly!” exclaimed Harnett, as if he had been waiting for his cue. “I shall be delighted. To tell the truth, I shall welcome an opportunity to meet Lady Truthful, if all that is said about her beauty is true. Mind you, most recognised beauties have too much pride and ice bound up in their looks. I daresay Lady Truthful’s just another of those! What do you think, de Vienne?”

“I don’t believe so, ” replied Truthful, her back stiffening. Was she a proud beauty? Were people really talking about her like that?

“I heard she cut Trellingsworth in the Park the other day,” continued Harnett. “Cut the poor fellow dead. Just acted as if she hadn’t seen him. I mean, Trellingsworth is a fool, but to cut him like that! The man won’t recover for a week. She must be the very devil for haughtiness.”

“Now, now, Charles,” said the General, seeing Truthful staring at Charles as if she was about to either burst into tears or brain him with the poker. “You’ve embarrassed the poor chap. Remember Lady Truthful is his cousin!”

“What’s that matter?” asked Charles. “My sister’s an out-an-out harpy and I’m the first to admit it.”

“Perhaps Lady Truthful really didn’t see Mr Trellingsworth,” said Truthful, which was, in fact, the case. “The Park is full of trees, and Mr Trellingsworth does tend to wear a very, very disguising shade of green.”

Charles opened his mouth to answer, but the General smoothly interrupted before he could begin.

“This isn’t the time for you to making commentaries on young ladies, Charles. I suggest you go and tell Westingham to bring de Vienne’s carriage around, and you can accompany him to Grosvenor Square and question this Agatha. No time like the present, I always say.”

“But it’s almost midnight,” protested Truthful. “Surely a commotion at this hour . . .”

“Best time,” interrupted Harnett. “She’ll not be expecting it. You can ask Lady Truthful to call her for some reason, and we’ll be waiting to question her. Simple, really.”

“But Lady Truthful will be in bed. She retired early with a sick headache.”

“I’m sure she won’t object if it means we recover the Emerald,” interrupted Harnett again. He stood up and rubbed his hands together, with every sign of someone who is about to enjoy a bracing adventure. “I’ll go and order the coach, de Vienne. I’ll be out the front in a few minutes. General, your servant, sir.”

Then he was gone, almost running out the door. Truthful blinked at where he’d been standing a moment before, then looked back at the General. He winked at her, and chuckled, then burst out into outright laughter, before quieting and wiping his eyes with a red silk handkerchief.

“I’m sorry, my dear,” he said weakly. “I should not let humour overcome me for this is really quite a serious matter. The Emerald is a very powerful talisman, and in the wrong hands . . . but fancy Charles not realising who you are! He told me, ‘There’s something dashed peculiar about that Frenchman.’ Ha ha!”

He started chuckling again, but subsided as Truthful said primly, “I don’t like deceiving people. I had no choice.”

“No, no. You’re doing very well,” replied the General seriously. “I admire your pluck, young lady, not to mention your great-aunt’s skill with illusion. Fixed in that moustache, ain’t it? And Charles isn’t all he says he is either, so don’t let that distress you. I suppose he never had the benefit of knowing your mother, so it’s no great surprise that he thinks you are merely an effeminate Frenchman.”

“You knew my mother?” asked Truthful, completely distracted. She hardly ever met anyone who had known her mother, and since it upset her father to speak of his dead wife, she had little opportunity to hear anything of that dimly remembered figure. “Oh, I see. I am supposed to resemble her.”

“Resemble her!” said the General. “Alike as two peas in a pod, and I can see it even when through that glamour and those clothes. But there’s few folk around who would remember Venetia when she was twenty. She married your father soon after that, and rarely came to London. She never much cared for society, you know. Now, you’d best go and meet Charles and capture your thieving maid. Frankly, I’m surprised she’s still there, even if staying would allay suspicion. Come and see me as yourself, when it’s safely done, my dear — and good luck.”

Truthful nodded, clasped her hand in the General’s briefly in unspoken thanks, and leapt up. The sooner she could confront Agatha, the sooner she could recover the Emerald — and cease her impersonation, which was beginning to embarrass her, particularly hearing comments about herself from Harnett.

Major Harnett and Truthful had little to say during the short coach ride to Grosvenor Square, though the Major did ask her a few questions about the layout of the house, whether the servant’s quarters had windows and the proximity of Agatha’s room to the kitchen door. Truthful answered vaguely and with some shame, remembering General Leye’s words about ignoring servants, for she couldn’t answer, not having ventured into those regions. She was also distracted by trying to work out how to resume her identity as Lady Truthful, summon Agatha, and then reappear as the Chevalier de Vienne.

Unfortunately, no plan of action occurred to her, and she began to fidget slightly, a symptom of a nervous sort of fear, akin to being found out when she had been naughty as a child. However, as the coach pulled up in front of the house, and Truthful looked out, she had the feeling of a reprieve. The whole house was lit up, as if for a party (but no party had been planned) and she could see shadows moving about both the upper and lower rooms. Obviously, something had happened in her absence, for the entire household was awake.

Awake and in turmoil, as they discovered when they entered the hall. Dworkin, the butler, was directing half-asleep servants to catalogue the silver; Lady Badgery’s secretary was disappearing into his study with a large tome that Truthful recognised as an inventory; and Lady Badgery herself was standing imperiously on the staircase, Parkins behind her. Truthful knew that she must be very upset, for though she was wearing her favourite fez she made no move to remove it or herself when she saw Harnett come in behind Truthful.

“Ah, cousin de Vienne,” cried Lady Badgery as she saw them enter. “And this is?”

“Major Harnett, at your service, milady,” said the Major, doffing his hat and bowing gracefully. “May I be of some assistance?”

Lady Badgery looked him up and down with regal consideration, and seemed to approve of what she saw. “You are obviously a man of action, sir, and perceiving action, wish to be a part of it. However, I have already sent a man for the Bow Street Runners, and I fear there is nothing else to be done.”

“But what has happened?” cried Truthful.

“Lady Truthful’s maid, Agatha,” pronounced Lady Badgery, “has drugged poor Eliza, and run off, probably with half the silver!”

Eventually, it was discovered that Agatha hadn’t taken anything other than her own clothes, and had left no evidence to suggest where she might have gone. Accordingly, several Bow Street Runners immediately lost interest and departed, grumbling about false alarms and rude awakenings. A runaway maid was not of the same importance as a thieving maid and a great quantity of stolen silver, and no one mentioned the Emerald.

By three o’clock that morning, the house had quietened again, leaving Harnett, the ostensible de Vienne and Lady Badgery having a quiet conference in the drawing room. Truthful quickly relayed the General’s opinion to Lady Badgery, who seemed unsurprised.

“Thought of her myself,” she said sourly. “But then I never liked her, so I had to take my natural dislike into account, and she was still with Lady Truthful, which lulled my suspicions. Surely she would have run away as soon as she arrived in London?”