Lord Corsair by Sydney Jane Baily

Author:Sydney Jane Baily [Baily, Sydney Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Medieval
Published: 2019-04-15T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

“ST. PAUL’S CATHEDRAL?” Beryl considered aloud, but then she thought of a better place. “No, St. James’s Park. Duck Island. My mother knows I love to go see the pelicans. I’ll be there at one o’clock tomorrow.”

Was it silly she couldn’t wait for time to pass until then?

“And you will bring the paper to prove recovering the necklace was your charge from the queen?” she insisted.

“The letter of marque states I’m sanctioned by Queen Victoria. It doesn’t mention the necklace.”

“I see.” Was he playing with her?

Philip shook his head. “I don’t care for the doubtful tone to your voice, nor your frown.”

Reaching toward her, he caressed her forehead, smoothing it.

“I can prove it was my mission,” he added. “Listen, and I’ll say this as briefly and plainly as possible, and then I had best be off before I compromise you and we have to marry.”

She shrugged, maintaining a placid expression when inside, her heartbeat had sped up at his words. What if they had to marry? Would he be upset at the prospect?

For an instant, she thought it would be fortuitous if one of her parents happened along. Then she considered the shame and how it would disappoint them. And, of course, there was Arthur.

Sitting up in bed, she clutched her satin counterpane to her chest, watching his eyes follow her movements. How would he prove the necklace was not simply pirate booty he’d happened upon in China?

“Tell me,” she urged, “and then, as you said, you must go.”

“The gray pearls in the necklace previously belonged to Queen Marie Antoinette, and they were smuggled to England by Elizabeth, Countess of Sutherland, the wife of a British diplomat. The queen of France intended for the countess to keep them only until she escaped The Temple where Marie Antionette was imprisoned with her family, or until loyalists triumphed over the revolution. However, a year later, the queen was headless and could no longer use her jewels. Naturally, the Sutherlands kept them.”

“How sad,” Beryl said, and she meant it.

Philip shrugged and continued his tale. “Years ago, the Sutherlands used some of the French queen’s pearls to create a necklace for one of their brides. The current duchess was at the palace, performing her duties as Mistress of the Robes for our queen. At a state dinner attended by ambassadors to the Qing emperor, she wore the necklace, removing it later that evening in her room at the palace. And that was the last she saw of it.”

“Someone pilfered it from the palace,” Beryl mused, trying to imagine such audacity. “And because the emperor’s emissaries were visiting, naturally, you were sent to China to look for it.”

“Exactly. As you can imagine, the Duchess of Sutherland wants her necklace back. Any of Marie Antoinette’s jewels are rare, at least in England, though she managed to send the rest to her sister, Marie Christine, in Brussels. Queen Victoria is upset on behalf of her lady-in-waiting, naturally, but more than that, she is angry at someone following the Manchus’ orders to steal from Buckingham Palace.

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