Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

RESTORING THE NECKLACE

A T THE TIME AGREED UPON, the duke and I followed Lord Needham into his study. Once more I was struck by the solemn majesty of the room. The scent of pipe tobacco hung faintly in the air, mingling with the musty aroma of aged books lining the oak-paneled walls. It was a fitting stage for the drama that awaited us—a drama whose tension was almost palpable before we even crossed the threshold.

Inside, the atmosphere was thick with unspoken accusations. Eleanor sat rigid on a chaise, her hands folded tightly in her lap. Her eyes flitted nervously between her cousin Lavinia, who looked as though she were about to deliver a scathing proclamation, and Lord Cumberforth, who stood nearby with a composed yet wary expression. Across the room, Felicity shifted uncomfortably, her gaze fixed firmly on the intricate carpet beneath her feet. By the fireplace sat Lord Burkett, his stern visage as unreadable as a granite statue.

“Good evening,” Lord Needham said to those assembled there, his tone somber. The duke and I took our places near the hearth. While he stood, I chose to sit, both of us prepared to observe before speaking.

“What the devil are we doing here, Needham?” Lord Burkett demanded, his voice brimming with fury, his eyes narrowing in barely restrained anger.

Lord Needham met the outburst head-on, his stance unyielding, his tone as steely as his resolve. “My daughter Eleanor’s diamond necklace has gone missing, Burkett. As you can imagine, it has caused her great distress. But the implications reach far beyond the theft itself. There are deeper truths at stake. They will all be revealed here tonight no matter where they lead.”

"I wonder," Lavinia began, her voice honeyed with venom, "if by deeper truths you mean the unsavory rumors surrounding Edwin." The crimson feathers that adorned her head trembled. She just couldn’t help herself, scandalmonger that she was. "I, for one, refuse to stand idly by while?—"

"Enough, Lavinia," Needham snapped, his sharp tone cutting her off. "This is no time for unfounded accusations."

Unfounded, perhaps, but not forgotten. The tension in the room thickened, and I braced myself for the storm that was about to break.

Just then, the door swung open with a bang, startling us all. Needham’s younger brother, Martin, strode in, his face dark with anger. Trailing behind him was Edwin, his normally composed demeanor replaced by a nervous pallor.

“Martin,” Needham said. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“On the contrary, brother, this is exactly where I need to be.” He glanced at Edwin with a father’s fond gaze. "Edwin has told me everything. I will not have his reputation dragged through the mud by petty gossip and lies. I will not allow my son’s honor to be sullied!” Martin declared, his voice echoing in the confined space.

"Petty gossip, is it?" Lavinia stood, her cheeks flushed with indignation. "Everyone knows the truth, Uncle Martin."

"You know nothing!" Martin thundered, silencing her with a glare. "Edwin is my son, legitimate in every sense. My wife never betrayed me. Her virtue is unimpeachable."

I came to my feet and stepped forward. “Forgive me for what I’m about to say, sir. I only wish to arrive at the truth. A member of your family doubts Edwin’s parentage. How did this misunderstanding arise?” I asked, keeping my tone gentle.

Martin Needham hesitated, glancing at Edwin before speaking. "My dear wife wished to travel to France, the land of her mother’s birth. She was two months before her confinement and in stout health, so her physician approved the trip. But as soon as we arrived in a small French village, her pains started. Edwin was born, healthy but small. My dear Charlotte did not survive. I returned to England a broken man, with my wife’s body in a casket, a babe, and a wet nurse I paid to feed my son. It took me years to recover. I never stopped grieving for her. I saw no reason to discuss such a private matter. I had no idea my silence would lead to such cruelty." His eyes narrowed into slits as he gazed at Lavinia. Anger and disdain for his niece fairly pulsed out of him. “I won’t tell your father what you have done, but you’re no longer welcomed in my home.”

“What I have done?” Lavinia cried out. “Your daughter stole Eleanor’s necklace. What punishment will you visit upon her?”

Felicity’s gaze continued to be glued to the carpet even as the color on her face rose.

“I will deal with her. It will not be pretty.”

“Thank you, Mister Needham,” I said. “I’m sorry you had to relive your pain.”

His eyes wet with tears, Edwin placed a hand on his father’s shoulder. “Father.”

How anyone could have thought they were not father and son was beyond me. They shared the same height, eye color, and aquiline nose.

It took a moment for Martin Needham to compose himself. When he finally did, Edwin led him to a solitary corner where they could quietly converse.

Into the tension-laden silence, a knock sounded on the door.

“Enter,” Lord Needham declared.

The Needham butler strode purposefully into the room. “Begging your pardon, Milord. Lady Burkett wishes to have a word.”

I glanced at Steele, fearful of what she would say.

“Have her come in.”

All eyes turned to the doorway as Lady Burkett swept into the room with regal authority. In her hands, she carried a small velvet bag. The butler left, closing the door quietly behind her.

"Good evening," she announced, her tone brisk and businesslike. “I’m sorry to interrupt but I believe I have something that belongs to Lady Eleanor."

She approached her son’s fiancée, opening the bag to retrieve the missing necklace. The diamonds sparkled like stars, their brilliance undiminished by their mysterious disappearance.

"My necklace!" Eleanor gasped, rising to her feet. "But where—how did you come by it?"

Lady Burkett’s expression hardened. "Among my husband’s possessions," she said, each word a dagger.

The collective gasp was nearly deafening. Lord Burkett shifted uncomfortably but said nothing.

"You have nothing to say for yourself?" Lady Burkett demanded of him, her voice cold as winter frost. "Shall I explain it for you? You orchestrated this theft, hoping to sabotage our son’s engagement. By depriving Lady Eleanor of her dowry, you intended to force Stephen to break the betrothal and marry the heiress of your choosing. Did you not?"

All eyes turned to Lord Burkett, whose stern composure finally cracked under the weight of the accusation.

"I acted in his best interest," he muttered, though his words rang hollow.

“No. You acted in your own interest,” Lady Burkett snapped. “Don’t worry. I won’t air our dirty linen in public, however much I wish to do so.”

“I have no such compunction, Mother,” Lord Cumberforth said, stepping forward to confront his father.

“Best not, dear.” She glanced pointedly at Lavinia. “We’ve already provided enough grist for the mill of the scandalmonger amongst us.”

Lavinia’s face flushed bright red.

Lady Burkett glanced pointedly at her husband. “You’ve interfered enough, Edward. This engagement will proceed, and you will not stand in its way again. Do I make myself clear?"

Lord Burkett opened his mouth, but the fiery glint in his wife’s eyes silenced him.

I stood, sensing the need to move the conversation to a resolution. "With the necklace returned and the truth revealed, I trust we can move forward in peace," I said. "Eleanor, are you satisfied with this outcome?"

Eleanor nodded, her face flushed with relief. "I am."

"And you, Lord Cumberforth?"

He took Eleanor’s hand, his expression tender. "I could not be more pleased."

The butler, with the seemingly perfect timing only the best staff possessed, knocked and entered once more. "My lord," he announced, "supper is served."

As the group filed out of the study, I caught Lady Burkett’s eye. She offered me the faintest of nods—an acknowledgment of a battle hard-won. It seemed the evening, once poised for disaster, would end on a bright note.