Page 29 of Miss Morton and the Missing Heir (A Miss Morton Mystery #4)

W hen Caroline entered the jewelers’ premises, there was no one to greet her, so she rang the bell on the counter.

The shop was almost entirely empty of merchandise, and Caroline wondered what had happened to the once preeminent jewelers in London.

While she waited, she looked out of the window at the heavy traffic trundling constantly up the hill.

There was a gentle cough behind her. “May I help you … miss?”

Caroline turned to find a young man looking down his nose at her. “Good afternoon, I was hoping you might help me with a damaged earring.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Repairs can be managed for most trinkets at any shop, miss.”

“I believe this item might have been purchased here.”

“Are you here on behalf of your employer?” His skeptical expression made her feel angry all over again.

Caroline raised her chin. “I am here because I mistakenly assumed you might assist me with a query about a piece of jewelry that came from your workshop. But if it is too much trouble—”

“Might I intrude, Mr. Brown?” An older gentleman came up alongside the first man and bowed to Caroline. “Am I correct that I am addressing Lady Caroline Morton?”

“Yes, sir.”

He smiled. “I thought I recognized you. I’m Mr. Spindler. I had the pleasure of meeting you and your mother at Morton House, my lady. I believe your father commissioned a special necklace for you on the occasion of your coming out in society.”

“That’s correct, sir,” Caroline said. “I do hope my father paid for it.”

Mr. Spindler winced. “I suspect he did not,” He waved his hand at the barren shelves. “Hence our current predicament. No one of worth comes to us anymore. They all go to Garrard, but we still offer repair services.”

“Then you might be able to help me.” Caroline took out her handkerchief and unwrapped the damaged earring. “There is a hallmark visible on the back. I was hoping you could identify the piece and whether it came from your workshop.”

Mr. Spindler raised the loupe he wore around his neck and examined the mangled earring. “I can see our unique maker’s mark stamped clearly in the gold, so it did come from us. The rest is harder to read, but if I give the piece a good clean, I might be able to decipher more.”

“That would be most helpful, sir,” Caroline said. “And, unlike my father, I will pay you for your time.”

After leaving her address with him, she exited the shop and returned to Half Moon Street in the carriage.

Mrs. Frogerton would be very interested to hear that the earring was from the Rundell workshop.

Mr. Spindler had detached the note from the metal parts and given it back into her care.

Curious now to see if she could decipher anything further, Caroline peered at the cardboard, using her gloved finger to brush away the soot.

“ To my darl …” she read out loud. “To my darling who?”

She turned the card over and noticed part of what appeared to be a heavily embellished letter M .

“M for Mary?” Caroline wondered.

It seemed likely that at some point Mr. Brigham had given his wife some rather expensive jewelry and had probably reclaimed it in his hour of need.

Caroline’s father had freely plundered his wife’s jewelry box when in need of funds and had never replaced any of the valuable family heirlooms he’d stolen without thought.

Caroline had taken to hiding the very few pieces she had left in the nursery because she knew her father would never look there.

Despite her care, when her father died, everything had been taken to pay his debts anyway.

She’d saved her mother’s pearl necklace and a silver bracelet only by sewing them into the hem of her gown before the bailiffs arrived.

Theoretically, those pieces might belong to the Morton estate, but she had no intention of giving them back.

In truth, she’d given Susan the bracelet to take to America as a memento of their mother.

Caroline reflected on how much she had changed since her father’s death.

She’d once believed losing her fiancé and her social status was the worst thing that could happen to her.

Accepting a job as a paid companion rather than living on her aunt’s charity had been her first act of rebellion, and she didn’t regret it.

She’d learned to stand up for herself and not allow others to dictate how her life would progress.

Of course, being employed by Mrs. Frogerton was a blessing—one she’d appreciated from the start and had come to value greatly as time passed.

Mrs. Frogerton had encouraged her to step outside the narrow confines of being the sheltered daughter of a peer and embrace her independence.

Standing up to men like Thomas Scutton and Mr. Potkins would never have occurred to her before her change in circumstances, but now she almost relished the opportunity to set them straight.

Her mother would’ve been horrified to see her oldest daughter behave so boldly. …

The carriage drew up in front of the familiar facade of the Half Moon Street house, and Caroline stepped down from the carriage. The front door opened as she approached, and Mr. Jenkins bowed to her. “Welcome back, miss.”

To Caroline’s disappointment, there was no sign of any luggage piled in the hall indicating that the Scuttons might be moving out.

As Mrs. Scutton was prone to take offense, Caroline could only wonder what was stopping her from leaving.

She untied the ribbons of her bonnet and took it off as she walked up the stairs.

Perhaps the Scuttons were still packing. She’d been away barely an hour.

She decided to go into the drawing room to assure Mrs. Frogerton that she had successfully accomplished her mission.

“Good afternoon, ma’am, I—” She stopped speaking, as she noted the Scuttons were flanking Mrs. Frogerton’s chair.

Mrs. Scutton came forward. “Caroline? Thomas has something to say to you.”

“I wish to apologize unreservedly for my behavior earlier.” He swallowed hard. “My mother informs me that I was ill-mannered and ungrateful to both you and our hostess.”

Caroline’s gaze flicked to Mrs. Frogerton, but for once she could gain no insight from her employer’s usually expressive face.

Mr. Scutton took her silence as a reason to keep talking.

“I am a man of deep passions, my lady, and when I come to … care about someone, those emotions sometimes get the better of me. I have already apologized profusely to Mrs. Frogerton, who has been gracious enough to accept my request for forgiveness. I pray that you will do the same.”

“My needs are secondary to those of Mrs. Frogerton, sir,” Caroline replied. “If she has forgiven you, I can only do the same.”

“I will ensure that Thomas minds his manners until we move into Morton House, my dear,” Mrs. Scutton said. “And if he offends you again, please do come and tell me.”

Mrs. Frogerton nodded. “Then that’s all settled. Caroline, would you order some tea?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

To Caroline’s relief, both the Scuttons left the room, and she didn’t have to converse with them further. She sat opposite her employer, who was looking rather thoughtful.

“I wonder why dear Mr. Scutton felt the need to apologize?” Mrs. Frogerton asked. “Earlier, he seemed quite willing to be cast out onto the street rather than moderate his views.”

“Perhaps he has the good sense to listen to his mother,” Caroline suggested. “Morton House is in no fit state to receive them yet, and I doubt Mrs. Scutton would care to move into a hotel.”

“I suppose that makes sense.” Mrs. Frogerton sighed. “Now, how did it go with the jewelers? Did they recognize the piece?”

“Yes, they recognized their unique maker’s mark on the gold,” Caroline said. “Mr. Spindler said he would contact me when he’d cleaned the earring and assessed the value of the repair.”

“That at least is good news.” Mrs. Frogerton said as the tea tray was brought in. “I still can’t imagine why anyone would be so careless with a piece of jewelry as to throw it on the fire.”

“Perhaps that person was in a hurry, ma’am,” Caroline said. She took out the piece of card that had been attached to the earring back. “I managed to decipher a small part of this message.” She handed it over to Mrs. Frogerton. “I assume the item was a gift from someone.”

“It looks like an ‘M’.” Mrs. Frogerton confirmed Caroline’s observation. “Perhaps for Mary?” She sighed. “I doubt it’s worth mentioning to Inspector Ross at this point. We’d better wait until your Mr. Spindler gives us more information about the earring.”

“Yes, I don’t think Inspector Ross would consider this relevant to his investigation,” Caroline agreed. “Have you heard from him at all?”

Mrs. Frogerton chuckled. “You know the best way to summon Inspector Ross, lass. Just ask him. He’ll come here for you.”

Dinner was a subdued affair with both the Scuttons on their best behavior. None of the topics Mrs. Frogerton introduced seemed to interest them, and eventually even she gave up and talked to Caroline about Dorothy’s latest letter.

“She seems to be enjoying the west country, although she complains about all the visits to the Lingards’ extended family they have to make.”

“Society honeymoons can last for months, if not years, if they go abroad,” Caroline said. “I’ve known couples to return home with their first child on the way.”

Mrs. Frogerton chuckled. “I can’t imagine Dotty’s face if that happened to her. I suspect she means to return to London and become known as a great society hostess before she settles down and has her children.”

“That would seem quite in character,” Caroline agreed.

The butler came in and bowed. “Inspector Ross is asking if you’d see him, ma’am.”

“Then send him in.” Mrs. Frogerton gestured with her fork.

Caroline set down her wineglass and turned to the door as Inspector Ross came in.

He bowed briefly and turned his attention to the Scuttons. “I’m pleased to inform you that we have Albert Brigham in our custody.”