Page 4 of The Stolen Sparkler
Eleanor shook her head. “None. The jewelry box was locked, and the key was in its usual place. I don’t understand how the necklace was taken.”
One obvious suspect clearly stood out. “Does your maid know where you keep the key?”
“No. I ask Martha to leave the room whenever I open and lock the jewelry box.” She pointed toward a nearby shelf. “I keep the key inside that vase.”
Not a safe place. The maid could have easily figured it out. Even as I pondered that thought, my mind raced with possibilities. “Who else knew about the necklace?”
Eleanor bit her lip. “Besides my cousins? The servants. It’s common knowledge as it’s part of the family lore. But none of the staff would have taken it,” she asserted. “They are loyal to the core!”
Even a loyal servant could be tempted to steal a valuable piece of jewelry. But it wouldn’t do to suspect any of them until I had more facts. “Who else arrived before I did?”
She blushed. “Stephen. He arrived shortly after my cousins.”
“What about your aunt and uncles?”
“Uncle Martin won’t be here until Saturday. Uncle Wilford has a chest complaint, so neither he nor my aunt will be attending.” She didn’t seem particularly upset about their absence. I, on the other hand, rejoiced. It meant there would be fewer suspects.
I paused to consider her words. Stephen could be a possible suspect. Maybe the pressure from his father had become too much for him, and he’d settled on this strategy to cry off from his engagement. It had not been made public after all. Only Eleanor, her father, and now I, knew. It would be an easy thing to end anengagement that, in the eyes of the world, had never begun. It was an interesting theory I would need to explore.
“What about the staff?” I asked. “Has anyone new been hired recently?”
Eleanor nodded slowly. “We took on a new housemaid last month. Her name is Lucy. But . . . I can’t believe she would be involved. She’s been so diligent and sweet.”
I filed that information away for later. “I’ll need to speak to her, just to be thorough.” Indeed, I would need to talk to the entire staff. The idea seemed daunting given the short time frame we had.
“I don’t want to accuse anyone unfairly,” Eleanor whispered, wringing her hands.
I squeezed her shoulder gently. “We won’t. But we must be methodical if we’re to solve this.”
I came to my feet as my mind whirled with potential leads, possibilities, and questions. The missing necklace, the looming engagement announcement, the Marquis of Burkett’s disapproval, the new housemaid—it was all connected somehow. And time was of the essence. The ball was but a few days away.
Eleanor nodded, her hope returning with the certainty in my voice. “Thank you, Rosalynd. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
I smiled softly, my mind already calculating the next steps. “We’ll find it. And you will wear that necklace on Saturday. Mark my words.”
Needham Hall, with all its festive cheer, was now a stage for a growing intrigue. I had little time, but I would uncover the truth. The necklace was the key to Eleanor’s future—and I would not allow it to slip away without a fight.
CHAPTER 3
THE DUKE'S ARRIVAL
THE EARLY MORNING MIST clung to Needham Hall as my carriage rolled up the gravel drive. The reason for my presence was a rather simple one. Needham had summoned me here to discuss a measure that would soon come before the House of Lords.
In recent weeks, my mind had been consumed with political matters. So many, they had commandeered my life. You’d think I would wish to avoid more of the same. But strangely enough, I’d found myself anticipating this weekend. Why? I had no idea. Maybe it was the pleasure of seeing an old friend. He didn’t visit London often enough.
But even if I’d wished to cry off, I wouldn’t have done so. I couldn’t say no to Needham, not after everything the man had done for me. Years ago, in the wake of a deeply personal tragedy, Needham pulled me back from the brink of despair. The debt I owed him was one I could never fully repay.
As the carriage came to a halt, my valet, Roberts, leapt down to open the door. As I stepped out, my eyes took in the array of festive decorations adorning the manor’s façade. Garlands of holly and ivy were draped along the railings, wreaths adorned with scarlet ribbons hung on every door, and the scent of pine lingered in the crisp air. Years past, I would've enjoyed such a vision, not so much anymore.
A footman appeared from within the manor to escort me inside. I followed him without delay, my strides purposeful as I crossed the threshold into the great hall. The manor bustled with activity as servants rushed about to complete preparations for the upcoming Christmas Ball. Yet, even amidst the hustle, something felt off. The energy in the air was strained, as though a shadow had fallen over the household.
“Your Grace, this way,” the footman said. Acknowledging his prompt, I followed him through a series of corridors toward the familiar room I’d visited more than once—Needham’s study.
As I entered the space, I found my old friend standing by the hearth, gazing into the crackling fire.
“Needham,” I greeted him, in a calm and steady voice.
The earl turned, his face pale and drawn while offering a weak smile. “Steele. Thank you for coming.”
