The Glitter and the Gold (Endearing Young Charms Book 7) Read online

  “But rich,” pointed out Mrs. Bidford caustically.

  “I do not blame the Woodwards for concentrating on money,” announced Lady Denham. “Marriages are not made in heaven, as we very well know. One must look to the future of one’s homes and estates.”

  And the loveless ladies clustered about her over the tea tray nodded wisely.

  Lady Varney said, “They will be cut everywhere. That goes without saying. And that poor creature, Martha Grimes, who is making a cake of herself over that army captain, will never raise her head again. The best thing she can do, the only decent thing to do, is to take herself off to foreign parts.”

  “Foreign parts” for a lady was the equivalent of a pearl-handled revolver left discreetly on the study desk for a disgraced gentleman.

  “One could forgive them for tricking La Woodward and that cur, Bohun. But to pretend to be wealthy!”

  There was a murmur of approval. Mrs. Bidford clenched her hands on her gown, for her gloves were a trifle worn—and in order to “do” the Season and keep up a good front, it had been necessary to go in for many distressing and petty economies. She had a sudden flash of sympathy for the Deveneys.

  “I might call on them,” she said airily.

  “Who?” exclaimed Lady Varney. “The Woodwards?”

  “No, the Deveneys.”

  “Why?” demanded Lady Denham awfully.

  “They are at least interesting,” drawled Mrs. Bidford, with fashionable languor. “It is all really very amusing when you think of it. Besides, I am desperately curious to hear their excuses.”

  “They will not receive you,” said a plump matron, Mrs. Dark.

  “Oh, I think they will,” said Mrs. Bidford. “I am sure the poor dears will be glad to see anyone.”

  “As one of society’s most fashionable leaders,” intoned Lady Denham, “it is my place to call on them and tell them what I think of them.”

  “Well, really,” said Mrs. Bidford huffily, “my reasons were to be kind.”

  Lady Denham fixed her with a cold stare. “They are not deserving of kindness. That would only make it look as if society were condoning their disgrace. No, I shall go. In fact”—she rose to her feet—”I shall go now.”

  Lady Varney’s eyes lit up with malicious amusement. “My dear Lady Denham, not one of us here is going to let you face them alone. We will all go.”

  “So much for packing,” said Fanny sleepily. “I am going to be good. The sooner we are out of here, the better for Miss Grimes. No, do not try to stop me.” She collected her underwear from the floor beside the bed and put it on, then pulled on her crumpled gown. “I will wash and change as soon as my conscience is easier, and it is not going to be easier until we are packed.”

  The sun shone into the room and lit on a dusty brass-bound trunk in the corner. “What is this?” asked Fanny, going over to it.

  “Oh, that,” said Sir Charles. “That’s the Spanish woman’s papers.”

  Fanny gave the trunk a tug to try to move it toward the center of the room. “It is very heavy.”

  “It weighs a ton, my sweeting, and is no doubt full of ledgers every bit as brass-bound and locked as that trunk.”

  “Can I see inside?”

  “Why, my Pandora? Can you read Spanish?” “No, but you said you could. It might be very interesting.”

  “And stop us packing.” “Just one peek.”

  “Very well. I have the key somewhere.” He got out of bed and stretched his naked body.

  “Hardly on your person,” said Fanny, with a giggle. “Do put some clothes on. Where did you get that dreadful scar.”

  “A saber cut at Corunna,” he said, pulling on his small clothes. “Now, where did I put that key? Must you look inside now, Fanny?”

  “Yes!”

  He went to a trunk and fished inside, and at last produced an oilskin packet and carried it over to the bed and shook it out. Various objects fell on the bed cover: a tinderbox, several seals, a nail buffer, and a brass key.

  “That is it. You are going to be very disappointed.”

  He knelt down and fitted the key in the lock and turned it. He threw back the lid. Across the top was a gold silk shawl embroidered with silk scarlet roses. It had a deep fringe. Fanny snatched it up. “How beautiful!” she cried. She stood up, swung it about her shoulders, and did a pirouette.

  “Fanny,” said Sir Charles in a hoarse whisper. “Come here.”

  She went to him and knelt down beside him.

  They both stared into the trunk.

  Myriads of jewels flashed up at them: the fiery prisms of diamonds, the slumbering blue of sapphires, green glow of emeralds, burning flame of rubies, and the heavy shine of gold, and more gold.

  There was a folded piece of paper in one corner of the box. He opened it and read it.

  Fanny found her voice. “What does it say?”

  “It says, ‘All my worldly goods I leave to Colonel, Sir Charles Deveney, with thanks to him for his bravery, courtesy, and kindness. I told him this contained only papers and family records in case his servants should learn of the worth and steal from him. I go to God. Elvira de Santos y Parva de Castille.’ And her signature is witnessed.”

  Fanny said in a weak voice, “Does this mean we are rich, Charles?”

  “Very rich. Even after we build a monument to our gracious Spanish lady and light candles for her.”

  “Oh, look, Charles. Look at this diamond-and-sapphire comb.”

  “Your curls are still too short to wear a Spanish comb.”

  “Not a bit of it. I fit it here … like so.”

  “Now you look like a princess you ought to be. Here is a diamond-and-sapphire necklace.” He clasped it about her neck. Fanny laughed and took out an emerald brooch and pinned it on her gown. He found a belt with a huge ruby clasp and she stood up and put it about her waist.

  They seemed to have been overtaken by a temporary madness as he fished out more jewels, rings for every finger, bracelets for her arms, more necklaces about her neck, until she laughed and said, “I am so weighted down with jewels, I can hardly move. Take something yourself!”

  He fitted rings on his long, slim white fingers, and then, putting on his shirt and cravat and waistcoat, proceeded to star his cravat with jeweled stickpins and ornament his waistcoat with diamond studs.

  “Now take my arm, Fanny,” he cried. “We will go to Aunt Martha—and just you wait until you see the look on her face!”

  Aunt Martha was looking bleakly at the faces of the visiting ladies, headed by Lady Denham. Those faces showed malice, avid curiosity, and spite. Only Mrs. Bidford looked on her with anything approaching pity.

  “We are come,” said Lady Denham, “to tell Sir Charles and Lady Deveney what we think of their infamous behavior.”

  Mrs. Bidford clenched those soiled gloves again. She looked from Miss Grimes’s haunted face to the faces of the other ladies. Suddenly she said, “I only called, Miss Grimes, to see if there was anything I could do to help, and to tell you that you, and Captain Hawkes, and Sir Charles, and Lady Deveney can expect to receive a welcome from me at my home any time any of you care to call.”

  The other ladies looked at her in horror.

  “I don’t care,” said Mrs. Bidford almost tearfully, for she was wondering whether her husband would ever forgive her when he got to hear of her shameful behavior. “Whom have they tricked? Greedy society. Whom have they shamed? Only one silly flirt who needed a lesson … and one ornament of the Fancy with the morals of a trull.”

  Lady Denham gathered her shawl closely about her shoulders—as if a cold breath of unfashionable behavior should give her the ague. “In all the years I have known you, Mrs. Bidford, I have never seen you behave so badly. No one who wishes to be my friend will ever speak to the Deveneys again.”

  “Good,” said Miss Grimes in a harsh voice. “If no one wants to speak to either of the Deveneys, you may take your leave … and as quickly as possible!”

  The
ladies, with the exception of Mrs. Bidford, rose.

  At that moment the double doors to the sitting room were flung open by a broadly beaming Hoskins—and all goggled at the glittering spectacle that stood on the threshold.

  “Fanny! Charles! Where did you get those jewels?” screamed Miss Grimes.

  Sir Charles’s eyes ranged round the ladies’ faces. “Why, Aunt Martha,” he said. “I am afraid we have been playing with my fortune like two children. What a spectacle we must look. But Fanny begs you to come with us and take your pick of whatever you want.”

  Miss Grimes thought faintly that Charles had tricked some jeweler into lending them a fortune, but her loyalty lay with them and not these ladies of the ton. “How very kind of you,” she said weakly. “These ladies are on their way out. You must not receive them, for they are here to give you some tiresome jaw-me-dead, with the exception of Mrs. Bidford, who stood out against them all with her offer of kindness.”

  Fanny unclasped a glittering diamond brooch from her gown, ran to Mrs. Bidford, and pressed it into that startled lady’s hand, exclaiming, “Take this trifle, although your offer of kindness is worth more than any gems.”

  Lady Varney glared at Lady Denham. “You had no right, Lady Denham, to speak for all of us. Why, I was just on the point of offering the Deveneys the hospitality of my home!” The others pressed around Fanny, each shouting above the other with offers of friendship, while Fanny stood in the middle of them, laughing with surprise, a small and glittering figure.

  After the visitors had been got rid of—with some difficulty—Captain Tommy arrived and listened to the chorus of voices telling him about the Spanish fortune. The servants were sent to carry in the trunk and they sat around it on the drawing-room floor, taking out jeweled items, one after the other, until it seemed as if the whole carpet was covered in a blaze of light.

  “You can sell out now,” said Tommy, “and buy a fine place in the country.”

  “I will sell out eventually,” said Sir Charles, “but only when this war is over.”

  “Charles,” said Fanny in dismay. “Of what good is all this wealth if we are going to be separated so soon?”

  “Duty is a hard taskmaster, my love. Tommy knows what I mean.”

  “Oh, well,” said Fanny on a sigh. “We should bank all this. It won’t be of much use to me in Spain.”

  “You are not going to Spain,” said Sir Charles firmly. “Let that be an end of the matter.” “No, we will not be parted,” said Fanny.

  “I am going with Tommy,” put in Miss Grimes. “I can take care of Fanny.”

  In vain did Sir Charles argue and protest. Nothing would move Fanny from her purpose.

  “And what of your parents?” asked Miss Grimes at last.

  “I shall set up a trust for both families,” said Sir Charles, “from which they will receive a quarterly income. They will, of course, be unable to live within it, but it should give us an excuse for keeping them at bay. And now, Fanny, we shall make sure that Tommy and Aunt Martha have a very fashionable wedding.”

  Everyone who was anyone crowded into St. George’s, Hanover Square, on the following week. The tale of Fanny handing over a valuable diamond brooch to Mrs. Bidford had gone the rounds and everyone else was eagerly hoping that the Jewel Heiress, as Fanny was being called, would press some jewelry on them.

  Miss Grimes was splendid in gold satin with some of the famous Deveney diamonds in her hair. Captain Tommy was an elegant figure for the first time in his life in Weston’s tailoring, reputed to be the fastest suit of clothes ever produced. Fanny, in rich cream satin, was bridesmaid, while Sir Charles was best man. There was no question anymore of any of them being in disgrace. Wealth conquered all.

  Fanny recited the wedding vows under her breath, remembering her own wedding. When Miss Grimes had finally changed her name to Mrs. Tommy Hawkes and Fanny walked behind her down the aisle, she looked around at all the smiling faces and was suddenly glad they were leaving London.

  She did not have the new Mrs. Hawkes’s tolerance for the cynical vagaries of society.

  Lord Bohun stood outside, behind one of the church pillars, a hat pulled down about his face, as the wedding party swept past him. Tricked and double-tricked, he thought savagely. If the Deveneys were rich, then what had been their game?

  He had just been to his club and the members had turned their backs on him.

  The silly crowd was cheering the married couple and throwing rose petals. And then as he looked across the road, he saw a face he recognized peering through the curtains of a closed carriage.

  He shouldered his way roughly through the crowd until he reached that carriage. He rapped on the glass with his cane. The glass was let down and Miss Woodward’s beautiful face looked at him.

  “They are a wicked couple,” said Lord Bohun solemnly, “and we have been sorely used.”

  The carriage door swung open. Mrs. Woodward leaned forward and said across her daughter, “You are the only one who understands. We would be honored if you would join us for some refreshment.”

  Lord Bohun ducked his head and climbed into the carriage. Life was not so bad after all.

  That night, Fanny wriggled into a more comfortable position in her husband’s arms. “Something is troubling me,” she murmured.

  “What?”

  “Our newly married couple in the room just along the corridor.” “So?”

  “I cannot imagine your aunt Martha doing anything like this.”

  “What can I do to take your mind off it?” teased her husband. “Something like this … and this?” “Oh, yes, Charles. Do it again!”