Page 55 of The Trick of the Treasure
“Or we could ask Ben.”
“Ben? What has he to say about anything?”
“He can do carpentry. He told me once. His father made him learn practical things so he didn’t grow up useless, like real gentlemen.”
Jemimah opened her mouth and, finding herself speechless, closed it again. At last, she said, “Ben was not on the ship.”
“But he has connections among shipowners and sailors. And he might have managed to swap the chests somehow on the quay. Or perhaps Papa did that to fool the thieves and Ben took advantage by breaking into the strong room that night.”
“You are thinking,” Jemimah said slowly, “that Ben…”
“…sucked up to you to get his hands on the keys and find out exactly when the treasure would be here, so he could steal it.”
“And marry me on the strength of the proceeds?” Jemimah said in disbelief. “Wheredidyou acquire such an imagination?”
“Oh, just observations,” Rachel said modestly. She laughed. “Don’t look so worried, Jem—I don’t believe it either.”
And yet it would, Jemimah thought bleakly, explain Ben’s recent absence. He didn’t need her anymore.
She got up suddenly and threw down her work. Seizing Rachel by the arm, she pointed her at the schoolroom desk. “Finish copying that or Mama will find you out. Find both of us out!”
Rachel sat with a perfectly understandable sigh of boredom. Honestly, what was the poor child expected to learn by copying out endless passages of worthy drivel?
“Perhaps we should go on an outing tomorrow,” Jemimah said impulsively.
“Mama won’t let us go alone.”
“Well, if she doesn’t, and she won’t come herself, we can always take Aunt Aud. Though she will twitter.”
“I don’t mind her twittering. She’s funny with it.”
Actually, she was, Jemimah remembered, as she ran downstairs to catch Mrs. Silver.
Mr. Grey and the workingman were hovering, waiting patiently for Constance to button her coat.
“Oh, Mrs. Silver,” Jemimah said brightly. “I wonder if I might have a word? Good afternoon, Mr. Grey.” She spared him a curtsey, because he was a handsome man even if he was quite old, but kept her attention on Mrs. Silver.
The lady’s brows rose slightly, but she turned to the others, saying, “Go on without me. I’ll make my own way back to the office.” She smiled at Jemimah. “What can I do for you, Miss Lloyd?”
Jemimah led her quickly into the small reception room, where no one would be at this time of the day, and shut the door. And then, although she had meant to inquire about dressmakers, she told her about Ben instead.
*
Constance, who hadbeen looking forward all day, with a rather delightful frisson of anticipation, to dining at Solomon’s house, was now desperate to speak to him. Jenks, the same discreet, lugubrious servant she had encountered the only other time she had been here, welcomed her with a bow and a small smile. He took her coat and hat, then led her up to Solomon’s large drawing room, which appeared to be also his dining room and his study.
It was, she reflected, a comfortable place for a lonely man who had no intention of entertaining. But it was not a home. There were few personal touches, save an oil painting of a ship above the fireplace, and one of lush, sunny countryside on another. She wondered if it were Jamaica. There were no portraits or mementos of any other kind. The intimate round table was set for two.
Solomon himself, elegant in evening dress, turned from the sideboard and came to meet her. The last time she had been here, he had been rather endearingly flummoxed, though he had quickly veiled every expression. Now there was open pleasure in his melting, dark eyes, and her heart gave one of its foolish little flutters.
He took her hand and kissed it, then leaned down and kissed not her cheek but her lips. “I have been looking forward to that all day.”
Her stomach tied itself it knots. There was no doubt this time that she was the one who had lost her bearings, and he the one in control. This was a glimpse into the successful Solomon of the business world, the man who had decided what he wanted and was delighted to be going after it. Against all the odds, he wantedher. And not as the tarnished trophy most other men saw. It was terrifying. It was wonderful.
Tongue-tied, she accepted the glass of sherry he had poured out, and rather desperately reached for what she had been so eager to tell him.
“Ben Devine is competent at woodwork,” she blurted. “I’m not sure what it means, if anything, because I still don’t see how he could have copied the chest in time, even if he had been at the docks to see it unloaded. Nor can I see the point, yet, but I thought it was interesting.”
“Itisinteresting,” he allowed. “And his father does have shipping connections.”
