“I have eyes.” Emlyn went to close the door, but Gwynnie grabbed it and bent down to examine the lock.
Whoever had picked the lock to get into the room — presumably Renard himself or another man in Fitzroy’s employ — had not done as good a job as Gwynnie would have done. There were scratch marks around the lock in the wood, where they had repeatedly slipped with their choice of tool.
“What is his aim?” Emlyn strode across the room and reached for the stone sill, beneath which the other jewels were hidden. She tapped the stones, which were fortunately still in place.
“We know his aim!” Gwynnie snapped, closing the door and firmly jamming it in the frame. “He intends to make us look guilty. You were right, Ma. I am more valuable to him alive, so he can frame me —”
“Quiet!”
“I will not be quiet!”
“Look out of the window!” Emlyn grabbed Gwynnie’s shoulders and turned her around to face the window. Through the glass, Gwynnie could see two figures walking across the courtyard.
One was Pascal, speaking hurriedly and waving his hands. The other was Tombstone, shaking his head.
“They are coming this way,” Gwynnie murmured. “Well, just as Renard managed to make the jewels disappear, so can we.”
They each reached for the various jewels, gathering them together as quickly as they could. Emlyn reached for the stone slab, her hands fumbling, shifting it to the side. Gwynnie didn’t bother to bind the jewels neatly in linen this time. She just dropped them into the gap as quickly as she could. Collecting the jewels from the pillow, she turned to drop them in too, but suddenly found the ruby-studded hat pin missing from her grasp.
“What is it?” Emlyn asked as Gwynnie turned on the spot.
“I think I dropped one.”
Footsteps outside their chamber revealed they had no more time. Quietly, they replaced the stone in the windowsill. Gwynnie threw herself back on the bed, instantly regretting it for her bruised back complained at the sudden movement. Emlyn moved to their looking glass, adjusting what curls of her hair hung down from her coif, framing her face.
A sharp knock at the door made them both halt. They exchanged a look and Gwynnie nodded curtly. It would hardly be the first time they were searched with suspicion hanging over their heads.
Gwynnie had witnessed a search the day after her mother had returned with blood on her hands. A constable came, claiming someone had been seen coming to their rooms with blood on them. Yet he believed he had been looking for a man. Finding no man hiding in their attic, he’d left again soon after. Gwynnie had stood in the corner the whole time, trying to hide her trembling hands behind her back.
“Who is it?” Emlyn asked, her tone perfectly calm.
“It is I, Mistress Wightham, Master Pascal.” Pascal answered lightly.
Emlyn reached for the door and opened it wide, revealing Pascal standing in the doorway, his hunched form bent forward, with the tall Tombstone towering behind him.
Gwynnie moved to the edge of the bed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something glitter. She glanced down, seeing she had indeed dropped the hat pin. She stood up and placed her boot over the jewel, where it was pressed into the rush matting.
“My apologies for the intrusion,” Pascal said, bending his head to Emlyn solicitously, “but we have received some information. It is nonsense, I am sure, but we are obliged to act upon it.”
“Poor Pascal.” Emlyn stepped toward the magistrate and took one of his hands in both of hers. “You seem in such distress. It worries me to see it.”
Gwynnie chewed her lip to prevent herself from laughing at how easily Emlyn could charm any man. Well, nearly any man. Tombstone sighed with exasperation and walked into the tiny room, striding past Pascal. She began to wonder if there was a reason Tombstone seemed unaffected by Emlyn’s charms. Was it possible that he had no eye for any woman at all?
“Oh, dear.” Emlyn gasped. “I am sure you have a task to do, sir, but is there a reason to barge into our chamber so? My daughter was resting after her hard day.”
“So I see.” Tombstone’s eyes raked over Gwynnie and the position she occupied by the window. She had no choice — she could not move, or she would reveal the hat pin beneath her boot.
“I should explain,” Pascal said. “You have my greatest apologies for this imposition, Mistress Wightham, but we have been informed that some of the stolen jewels have been seen in this room.”
“I beg your pardon?” Emlyn affected perfect surprise. She tightened her hold on Pascal’s hand, her lips parting.
Gwynnie shifted on the spot, frowning deeply, well aware that Tombstone was watching her intently, clearly waiting to judge her reaction.
“It seems to me you are being toyed with, sir,” Gwynnie whispered to Tombstone. “Shall I guess who accused us of such a thing?”
Tombstone looked away and reached for Emlyn’s bed.
“What is this?” Emlyn stepped away from Pascal. “You are searching our chamber now?”
“Again, my deepest apologies,” Pascal said placatingly. “I of course know that two ladies such as yourselves could have nothing to do with any of this, yet we have to act on our information. We must search the chamber, then we shall be done and on our way.”
“But —”
“Let them search, Ma,” Gwynnie said, being careful to keep her tone calm.
“Miting?” Emlyn looked at her. Most people would not have seen a change in Emlyn’s expression, but Gwynnie knew her mother’s face so well, she caught the brief twitch around her eye. It was a hint to the fear she felt, that if they allowed Tombstone to search, he would indeed find the jewels.
“If we refuse, they will believe we have something to hide, will they not?” Gwynnie’s question seemed to settle the matter. Emlyn nodded and moved to sit on the edge of Gwynnie’s bed.
“This is all so very distressing,” she muttered. “Are all the maids’ chambers being searched?”
“No. It is just yours,” Tombstone answered tartly.
He turned Emlyn’s bed upside down. Gwynnie expected him to leave the bedding on the floor, but she was wrong. He replaced the bed and then turned to Gwynnie, gesturing for her to move aside so he could search her bed. Gwynnie nodded and took a step back. Fortunately, the room was so small she could not go far. It meant she could drag the rush matting and the hat pin under her boot with her.
Emlyn was forced to stand, and Pascal took her hand, taking it upon himself to calm her. Emlyn acted up her shock even more, making him sympathise with her.
“Oh, how awful. To think I brought my daughter here, thinking we’d be safe working in a place such as this. And yet suspicion is cast over us. Oh, it is too much. My heart…”