The Tremlett Diamonds

Front matter

VOL. I. I NEW LIBRARY NOVELS. UNDER SEALED ORDERS. By Grant Allen. 3 vols. A LONDON LEGEND. By Justin H. McCarthy. 3 vols. THE TREMLETT DIAMONDS. Ky Alan St. Aubyn. j2 vols. BEYOND THE DREAMS OF AVARICE. By Walter Besant. 1 vol. THE MINOR CHORD. By J. Mitchell Chaitle. i vol. HIS VANISHED STAR. By C. Egbert Craddock. 1 vol. ROMANCES OF THE OLD SERAGLIO. By H. N. Ckei.li.v. 1 vol. VILLAGE TALES AND JUNGLE TRAGEDIES. By B. M. Ckoker. 1 vol. MADAME SANS-GENE. By E. Le^elletier. i vol. MOUNT DESPAIR. By D. Christie Murkav. 1 vol. THE PHANTOM DEATH. By W. Clark Rlsskll. i vol. THE PRINCE OF BALKISTAN. By Allen IMvakd. i vol. London: CHATTO & WINDUS, Piccadilly. BY\<L ALAN ST. AUBYN AUTHOR OF 'a fellow of trinity,' 'the junior dean,' 'the old maid's SWEETHEART,' ETC. IN TAVO VOLUMES VOL. I. IL o n 9 0 it CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY CONTENTS OF VOL. I. CHAPTER -AQ_ I. THE GIFT OF THE BRIDEGROOM - - 1 II.

GOTHAM - - - - - 19 m. blue-eye's aunt - _ - - 38 IV. THE BOW-EOOM - - - - 56 V. EDITH DARCY'S DREAM - - - - 66 VI. THE GUNNING DIAMONDS - - -84 VII. AT THE STORES - 101 VIII. A TIRESOME VISITOR - 116 IX. A PRIVATE DETECTIVE - - - - 134 X. AN OLD WORCESTER HOWL - - - 152 XI. DORA'S HONEYMOON - 163 XII. A STRANGE TASK - 182 XIII. WHAT WAS HE DRIVING AT? - - - 200 CHAPTER

Chapter I. The Gift Of The Bridegroom

It had been a very busy day : it was the eve of Dora BelleAv's Avedding. There had been so much to do. There is always so much left to do on the last day. There were the trunks to pack — the trunks that the bride was to take away with her on her wedding journey — the wedding presents to arrange, and the prepara tions for the morrow to complete. Dora Bellew set out the wedding presents herself; she Avas very particular in arranging them. There were a good many to arrange. vol. i. They had been pouring in for a week past ; some had only arrived that day. One, the very last, arrived on the eve of the wedding, just as she was giving a finishing touch to them — putting the last pair of salt-cellars in their place. ' It is very tiresome,' she re marked plaintively, ' so many people sending duplicates.' She had had at least a dozen pairs of silver salt-cellars and six sets of tea spoons, and every variety of afternoon - tea table.

The last present that arrived was from the bridegroom. It was not a salt-cellar, or a set of teaspoons, or an afternoon-tea table. Dora's fingers trembled as she opened it : the parcel had been brought into the room where she was arranging the wedding presents, ready for the guests to admire them on the morrow. They could not help admiring them ; it was a lovely lot of presents for one girl to receive. Edith Darcy, one of the bridesmaids — the principal bridesmaid — Avho was helping to arrange them, thought she had never seen anything so lovely in her life. There was only Edith in the room Avhen Dora Bellew opened the parcel from her lover. She opened it slowly, with trembling fingers — she did not know why they trembled ; they had not trembled when she opened the other parcels — and Edith watched her Avith sparkling eyes. ' It's — it's — what is it ?

Guess, Dora, before you open it !' she cried gaily, as Dora came to the last wrapping. ' It's another case of spoons,' Dora said, Avith a laugh — rather a nervous laugh. ' Oh, it can't be spoons ; it's too long.' ' That's the case. It's something in a case. I'm so glad it's in a case! I love things in cases!' Still she did not attempt to open it. ' It's a very long case,' Edith said reflectively ' it might be ' ' Fish - carvers !' the bride-elect suggested solemnly. ' Nonsense ! He wouldn't send that sort of thing ; it's something to wear.' Edith was quite right— it was something to wear. It was a lovely diamond necklace. When the case was opened it seemed to fill the room with light. Dora gave a little scream of delight, and Edith held her breath. It quite took away her breath to look at it ; it Avas something like a necklace !

Not a row of single stones, but a beautiful necklace Avith pendants, and loops of diamonds, and a lovely centre ornament in the form of a thistle. Captain Tremlett had had the old family diamonds reset for his bride, and the setting of the necklace had been his own design. The thistle had something to do Avith the arms of the family. ' You never will be able to Avear this, Dora,' Edith said presently, as she held the necklace up to the light. 'Why not? Why shouldn't I wear it ?' Dora asked, pouting. She couldn't understand Edith's objection. ' Oh, there's so much of it ! You Avould look like an idol.' She was angry with herself the moment after she had spoken. She couldn't think why she had said such an unkind thing about Captain Tremlett's present to his bride. ' Why should I look like an idol V asked Dora in an injured voice, putting the beautiful shining thing back into its velvet case. ' It was only fun, dear.

I don't know why I said it. You would look lovely in it. Try it on — you must try it on.' Dora took it out of the case rather unwillingly, and Edith clasped it round her Avhite throat. It Avas a beautiful slender white throat, and a plump, soft, creamy neck. Dora Bellew had the loveliest Avhite skin in the world, and the beautiful necklace gleamed upon it as it had gleamed and glistened in its white velvet, case ; it did not lose any brilliancy by its change of surroundings. This is saying a great deal. It is not every woman's throat that sets off a diamond neck lace. ' It looks lovely, dear !' Edith said, kissing her. ' How proud he will be to see you wear ing it !' ' I don't know,' Dora said with a sigh, looking at her reflection in the glass critically. ' I think there is too much of it.

I shall always feel like an idol when I wear it — like that image of Buddha, the fat, grinning bronze thing in the hall.' She took the necklace off, and put it back into its case and closed it. It shut Avith a spring, rather a hard spring to close. ' Why don't you leave the case open like the rest V Edith asked. ' Oh, I hate to see it open ! It reminds me of Buddha. Perhaps, if I don't see it, I shall forget all about it when I wear it.' Everybody admired Captain Tremlett's beautiful present. If anyone thought it was too elaborate for so youthful and petite a bride, he held his peace. There was a houseful of wedding guests, uncles and aunts and cousins, and they all agreed that it was a most beautiful gift — a quite magnificent wedding gift. The diamond ornaments and the more valu able articles of jewellery among the presents were carried upstairs at night, and locked away in Mrs. Bellew's fire-proof safe.

There was a fire-proof safe, almost as large as a room, built in the wall of her dressing-room, Avhere she kept her valuables, and where the silver things belonging to the house were locked up at night. Dora's wedding presents had a separate locked cupboard to themselves. Edith helped her carry them upstairs, and stayed behind to lock the door of the safe, while Dora Avent in to say ' Good-night ' to her mother. It was a long ' good-night ' — her last at home ; she did not knoAv how hard it Avould be until she came to say it. She was going away on the morrow ; the old home-life Avas at an end. A new life was opening before her — a new life with new ties. She was going out from the old tried love and shelter to the new and the un tried. No wonder that she could not tear herself aAvay. It was quite late before Dora fell asleep that night ; she had so much to talk about to Edith, who slept with her.

Edith was to be her bridesmaid on the morrow, and she was staying with the other Avedding guests in the house. When she grew tired of her own concerns, she talked about Edith's, or, rather, yawned over them : they were not so interesting as her oavii. ' I suppose you will be married before we come back, Edie ?' she said sleepily. ' I don't know, I'm sure. Derek wants it to be in October, Avhen he gets his leave. We could go abroad for the winter ; but I don't see what Ave could do when we come back. We couldn't ahvays live abroad, and we have not enough money between us to begin housekeep ing Avith. We should have to take a flat, if we began in the very smallest way, and it would have to be furnished. Sometimes I think I will give it all up. It isn't fair to Derek, such a boy as he is — he is five years younger than I am — to let him in for the care and worry of it.

When he ought to be enjoying himself like other men, taking life easily, he'll be tied up to an old woman — I feel quite an old woman sometimes — and have the cares of a house and family. Poor Derek ! If I loved him as he deserves to be loved, I should let him go.' There were tears in Edith Darcy 's A^oice and on her pillow as she spoke of her lover and the sacrifice he was making for her sake, but she was speaking to unheeding ears. Dora had fallen asleep. Dora Bellew was married the next day. It was rather a gloomy wedding, in spite of all the gay preparations that had been made for it. The guests had to drive from a distance. Nunwell was five miles from the nearest town — the nearest town was Hereford — and those who drove over in open carriages got wet through before they reached the church.

It rained without a break the whole day, a gray, dreary autumn day, with the wet west wind beating against the church window-panes, and the rain coming down on the roof all through the service. Dora could hear the monotonous drumming of the rain on the roof of the chancel, and the patter of the rain-drops on the leaves of the trees in the churchyard outside, all the time she was kneeling before the altar. She heard the mournful drop, drop, drop, above the solemn words of the service and the responses of the bridegroom, like a dreary refrain. The church was damp and cold, and she shivered in her white, as she stood before the altar with the n bridegroom's hand clasping hers. He Avas a big, heavy, dark-browed man, and he did not smile upon her once all through the service, as a bridegroom should have done.

Everyone remarked that he was looking distinctly un amiable. Something1 had gone Avronc, and he was letting off" his sulks and his ill temper upon the poor little white-faced bride. Everybody agreed that it Avas a very great match for little Dora Bellew ; there was not a girl in the county that would not have jumped at Lionel Tremlett, and yet very few envious glances were cast at the bride as she walked in her lace and orange-blossom down the aisle by his side. He let someone else put her in the carriage, and he got moodily in beside her, and drove back to the house with the window down all the way — he would not have it up — and his AArhite-gloved hand on the sill, with the rain drifting in. He did not speak a word to the little trembling bride on the way back from the church, and she sat shivering in her wedding finery, Avith great splashes of rain drifting in on her satin goAvn, and the tears, which she could not keep back, dropping silently on the bouquet of orange-flowers in her lap.

Everybody agreed that the bridegroom Avas behaving like a bear. There was a reason for his behaving badly. Dora had disappointed him — she had slighted his wedding gift. He had expected her to wear the diamond necklace which he had had mounted to his own special design as a Avedding ornament, and she had left it at home. She hadn't even taken it out of the case : she had brought it doAvnstairs on the morning of the wedding-day, and put it among the rest of the presents, but she had not opened the case. No one but Edith had noticed that the case was not opened ; she remembered that unfortunate allusion to Buddha when she noticed it, and held her peace. No one had suggested that Dora should wear the necklace at her wedding : it would have looked dreadful on that chilly, depressing morning to have gone to church blazing hi diamonds.

The bridegroom had noted its absence, and he took it into his head to be sulky about it. He had often been known to be sulky with other people, but he had never been sulky with Dora before, and his sulkiness on this particular occasion did not seem to bode well for her future happiness. It AA-as really a great match for her. She could not expect to have everything ; there are drawbacks to every lot — drawbacks, and compensations. Captain Tremlett was the head of the faniilv. It was an old county Jamil v : the Tremletts had come OA*er with the Conqueror, There were branches of the family all over the county — Mrs. BelleAAhad been a Tremlett ; but the head, the aeknoAvledged head, old Sir Bourchier, liA-ed in great state at Castle Hill in the northern division of the county, and Captain Tremlett was his only son.

Dora BelleAv would be Lady Tremlett one day, and she would be the head of the family. Everybody agreed she was a lucky girl — an awfully lucky girl. Sir Bourchier Avas at the wedding, and the Miss Tremletts, the Captain's sisters. They took no part in the ceremony ; they were not among the bridesmaids; they merely looked on. They could not think what their brother could see in such an insignificant little creature as Dora BelleAv — a doAvdy, plump little thing, with only a soft white skin, and soft broAvn eyes, and a soft purring voice, to recommend her. There was something so soft about Dora, soft and still, that they used to call her ' Mousey ' ■ — ' Little Mousey.' The very last person in the world that Sir Bourchier would have expected his son to choose for a wife was Little Mousey Bellew.

Of course there was the con nection — she was about a sixteenth cousin — all the Bellews in the county Avere connections ; there was nothing to find fault with in her birth. The Bellews, if they hadn't got a penny, were good enough to marry anybody. Sir Bourchier had no fault to find, so far as family went, with his son's choice, but Mousey — he had always known her from a child as ' Mousey' — was not exactly the sort of girl that he would have chosen to sit at the head of his son's table, to bear the weight of the family honours when he was gone. He had had a dreadful haunting fear — it almost amounted to a conviction — that his son would never marry, that there Avould be no descendants to carry on the race in the old line, that the title would go to a distant branch. He was glad, therefore, to welcome any daughter-in-law, and Avhatever his private opinion might be, he Avelcomed Dora into the bosom of his august family Avith stately, old fashioned courtesy.

He unbent so far, Avhen the party came back from church, as to kiss her soft white forehead, and express a hope that she would be very happy, and that he should see a great deal of her at Castle Hill. The two Miss Tremletts followed their father's lead and kissed her damp cheek — at least, they made a peck at it. They were elderly young ladies, and were not effusive. Poor little Dora cried all through the breakfast : she couldn't keep her tears back. She was crying at one end of the table, and her mother crying at the other, Avhile the new son-in-law sat staring at everybody in gloomy silence. He got up from the table as soon as he could ; he didn't wait till the speeches were over; he was in a great hurry to get away. He flurried poor little Dora out of her wits ; he didn't give her time to say all her ' good-byes,' and drove off to the station an hour before the train was due.

He upset everything with his unnecessary haste. The bride's travelling - boxes were fastened down hurriedly, and a lot of things that she Avanted were left out, and a lot of things that she didn't want were put in. Some of the jewellery — the bracelets and ornaments that were among the wedding presents — was put in in a hurry at the last moment. No one knew exactly Avhat was put in, it Avas all done in such a scramble. When the tearful bride had driven away, the guests began to disperse. Sir Bourchier and his daughters were among the first to go. The big lumbering family chariot was brought round, and the head of the family departed in gloomy state. Dora's neAv sisters-in-law had not taken the trouble to look at the wedding presents she had spread out Avith so much delight before they went away.

They did not even glance at the silver salt-cellars or the afternoon-tea tables. There Avas a ton of old silver plate, it was rumoured, at Castle Hill, and they turned up their high-bred noses at little Dora's silver spoons. They did not stop to see the present that Captain Tremlett had sent his bride, the old family diamonds that he had had set in that elaborate necklace. Everybody in the con fusion seemed to have forgotten that unlucky necklace. 12 \TOL. I. What with the rain, and the bridegroom jumping up in that ridiculous way in the middle of the marriage feast, and the scramble to get aAvay, not many of the guests had seen the wedding presents. It was quite late in the day, when nearly everyone Avas gone, that somebody remarked that closed morocco case among the presents. ' Oh, haven't you seen it ?' Edith said ; she was generally showman — there was no one else to go round with the people ; ' it is the gift of the bridegroom.

It is quite the — the — most magnificent ' She had been trying to open the case — it was rather a hard spring to unfasten — and she stopped suddenly, and the guests Avho had crowded round, and who were Avatching her unfasten it, saAv her face fall— saw the colour drop quite out of it. The case ivas empty !

Chapter II. Gotham

No one knew Avhat had become of the diamond necklace. Had Dora taken it with her ? She had gathered up a few things in a hurry — some gold bangles and a bracelet — and she had left their cases behind her, empty. There was no room in her travelling-trunks for cases. She might have taken the necklace, too, as the bridegroom made such a fuss about it. She might have taken it with her to please him, to wear at dinner for his especial benefit. It was ridiculous to think that it Avas lost or stolen ; there was no one at Nunwell to steal it. The door of the room in which the presents were set out had been locked while the wedding party Avere away at church, and the housekeeper had kept the key in her pocket. It was absurd to make a fuss about it — enough fuss had been made about it already. Most likely the bride had taken it away with her ; and she Avould come down to dinner in it by-and-by.

She was such a SAveet-natured little thing, that she would wear it day and night if she thought the wearing of it Avould give her lord and master pleasure. Mrs. BelleAv made so little of the loss, or rather the disappearance, of the necklace, that she only mentioned it in her letter to Dora in a postscript. When everybody was gone, she comforted herself by sitting down and Avriting to Dora. There were so many instructions she had intended to give her, so much to say that had been left unsaid, that she forgot all about the bridegroom's present until she had finished her letter ; and then she added the postscript : ' Pray let me hear,' she wrote, ' if you have GOTHAM 21 taken Lionel's beautiful necklace away with you ; we are Avondering Avhat has become of it.' Edith Darcy Avent away the next day.

There was nothing for her to wait for. She had seen Dora safely married, and she had cut up the cake ; she had spent the remainder of the wedding-day in squeezing bits of cake into little oblong boxes and Avriting people's names upon them. She was quite sick of the sight of wedding-cake when she had finished. She had made up her mind that if her Avedding did come off, she Avould do AA'ithout a cake. It would be a distinct economy, to begin Avith. She would put a notice in the papers, as people do after deaths, only with a variation, ' No cake.' Mrs. BelleAv smiled Avhen Edith told her of the economy she was planning ; it was the first time she had seen her smile since Dora drove away. ' You Avill have to do Avithout a great many things besides cake, dear,' she said, ' if Captain Stanhope has only got his pay.

I don't see how you are going to live upon it.' Edith sighed. ' It will not be quite all,' she said, hanging her head, and reddening at the mention of her marriage, like a girl in her teens ; ' I have a little of my own, you know.' ' That Avill only keep you in clothes, dear,' Mrs. BelleAv said kindly. ' You will be expected to dress ; you can't economize in dress, what ever else you do. Derek — Captain Stanhope — has to keep up his position in the regiment, and he could not afford to let his wife look dowdy ; besides ■ ' She stopped herself and coloured ; she had almost thought aloud. ' Besides, I am not so young, so attractive, that I can afford to be doAA'dy ?' the girl said quickly, with a thrill of impatience in her tone, her face flushing and her mouth quivering. She had a beautiful tender mouth, rather Avide, and thin, sensitive, scarlet lips ; she could GOTHAM 23 not keep her mouth from quivering if anything moved her. ' I didn't mean that, dear.

You are more attractive than most Avomen. When you have got a colour, when you are excited, you are always the loveliest woman in the room. You Avere handsomer than any of Dora's bridesmaids — everybody remarked it ; but you want to be well dressed. I never knew a woman who paid for dressing more than you do.' This was kindly meant. Mrs. BelleAv Avould not have said anything to hurt the feelings of Dora's friend for the world. Edith had been a constant visitor at Nunwell for the last ten years. Mrs. Bellew almost loved her as a daughter of her own. ' It is very dear of you to say so,' Edith said, Avith something like a sob. ' If you knew hoAv little I have to dress upon, you would only Avonder that I can dress at all — that I am ever fit to be seen. You would cease to be surprised that I look shabby — that I am a disgrace to you all.' Her voice was unsteady, and there was a thrill in it that touched the elder Avoman and brought the tears to her eyes. ' You have never, never disgraced us, darling ; you have always looked lovely !

No one could tell, to see you, that you had not as much to spend upon dress as other girls. You always looked better than Dora. Poor Dora ! she hasn't the figure to show off anything, as you haA^e. If you put the richest things on her, it does not seem to make any differ ence.' ' Dora has made a very good match, in spite of it ; and I — I am going to marry a poor man with nothing but his pay,' Edith said, with a laugh — a rather tremulous laugh. She went away the next day. She went quite early, before the letters were in. She had to go to the other end of England, and she started by an early train. GOTHAM 25 She had said good-bye to Mrs. Bellew the night before, and Gracie— Grace Avas Dora's younger sister — was asleep when she came into her room in the morning, to kiss her before she went away.

She did not aAvake her ; she left the room on tiptoe, and went softly down the stairs, lest she should Avake any of the sleeping inmates. It seemed to her, Avhen the hall door had closed noiselessly upon her, and the carriage that bore her to the station drove away, that she had stolen out of the house like a thief. Edith had intended, AArhen she decided to start by that early train from Hereford, to stop in town by the way and do some shopping. Her destination was some forty miles the other side of London. She would have to cross from Avest to east ; she would have to drive through London. It Avould not have delayed her to have done an hour or two's shopping in town, by the way. She had a great deal to do, if she were to be married in October. There were frequent trains from the Great Eastern rail way-station to St. Oswald's, and she had plenty of time on her hands.

When she reached town she changed her mind. She had consulted her purse on the journey, and a review of its contents had made her alter her mind. ' It was not worth while,' she reminded her self, Avith a sigh, ' to go and look over a lot of things — a lot of expensive things — and find out, after all, that she had not money enough to pay for them.' She had been thinking of what Mrs. Bellew had said overnight, when they Avere talking about her plans for the future, of the necessity there Avould be, when she was married, to be well dressed — not to disgrace her husband by her shabby clothes. It had been running in her mind all the way — that, and Avhat Mrs. Bellew had said about her looks — and the two together had made her alter her mind, and put off' the shopping that she had planned. GOTHAM 27 • It Avill never do to buy common things, cheap things,' she reasoned, with Mrs. Bellew's words in her ears ; ' they would soon get shabby, the gloss would soon wear otf them, and they would look dowdy.

Whatever else I do, I can never, never wear cheap vulgar finery ! I must wait until I can afford something better.' There was some reason in what Mrs. Bellew had said. Edith Darcy AA-as not a girl — a woman, rather ; she AA-as twenty-nine, if she was a day — to wear common things. Her style of beauty — she had a distinct style in her way. and a certain sort of beauty — wanted careful dressing to set it oft' : it wanted costly stuffs, and rich dark colours, and unusual effects. There Avas nothing namby-pamby about it. She was a pale brunette — not a brown or olive complexioned brunette of the regular type, but one with the clear white, rather thick white, com plexion, that a sudden scarlet colour sets off" to perfection. Her face was quite colourless to day, as she leaned back against the dark cushions of that first-class carriage.

Edith always travelled first-class ; it was one of her whims. She economized in a hundred other ways, but she always travelled luxuriously. She had never been in a third-class carriage in her life. Her hair Avas black — as a brunette's hair should be — rather a rusty black, with red-brown shades in it, like the inner lining of a chest nut's skin, and her eyebrows were thin and dark and well defined, and she had long dark lashes, that veiled the softness, sometimes the hardness, of her eyes. Her eyes were dark — very dark — with a light in them that always seemed ready to flame up if occasion required. They were still, steady, reflective eyes — cold rather than warm — and they were set rather far back, which made her look older than she really was. It was only when she Avas animated, Avhen she Avoke up, that she was beautiful.