Chapter twenty-eight - Gilbert

"I win again." Felicia crowed triumphant.

Teddy groaned in mock agony even as he moved to clear the sticks and stones from their makeshift gameboard for a rematch.

From his seat leaning against the gravestone, Gilbert's lips twitched into a smile. He couldn't help admiring the resilience of those two. Even after the upheaval of recent events, they could find time and enthusiasm for a simple game of noughts and crosses.

If only he could be so flexible, simply set aside his worries and enjoy the pleasure of watching his little family in the early morning sunlight. If he hadn't failed to protect them, they probably wouldn't have suffered. That was probably why Beatrice was trying her best to ignore his very presence. Not that he could blame her.

He turned his head to watch her, seated on the blanket beside him, little Martine in her lap. The child was playing with her doll while her aunt finger-combed the tats out of her copper curls. It was such a tranquil, domestic scene. He could almost pretend last night had never happened.

Then he caught a glimpse of the white bandages around his wife's wrists and forearms and felt his heart stutter in remembered fear. He had come so close to losing her. If not for being awoken by Martine's nightmare and the consequent search for her missing doll, he might have blissfully slept the night away, never realizing the danger Beatrice was in. Guilt wormed through his chest. Again, he failed to protect his loved ones. Beatrice most of all. No wonder she was giving him the cold shoulder.

She had been forced to rescued herself. He still had trouble digesting that. Not that he didn't consider her capable. He never doubted that she was clever and resourceful enough to engineer her own escape. He had always admired her bravery. But she should never have been put into that situation in the first place. She had needed him and he hadn't been there for her. Narwhal had snatched her away, from right under his very nose. He had been completely oblivious to the danger she faced, kidnapped and held at the mercy of a madman. He felt sick at heart to think of her in that position. It was his responsibility to protect his wife and family, and he had failed. Again.

Gilbert scowled down at his scarred fingers, thinking if he had that rotund merchant here right now, he'd eagerly wrap them around the ruddy bastard's throat and strangle him. How dare the man terrorize a sweet young woman like Beatrice.

"Lourson."

Gilbert glanced up to see Sumter step between the gravestones and into their little area. His friend was carrying a small, wooden chest which he deposited onto the grass at his feet with a sigh. It looked heavy and for a moment distracted Gilbert from the gloomy course of his thoughts.

"Mr. Sumter?" Beatrice whispered anxiously.

Hearing the tremor of fear in her voice, Gilbert wanted to reach out and gently brush his hand over her shoulder intending to offer comfort. But he feared her reaction. She would flinch and instantly freeze in terror. She was afraid of him again and he couldn't blame her. He had failed to protect her and now she abhorred his touch. True, she had slumped into his arms earlier, when they had discovered her in the roadway. But ever since she had settled here in the midst of her family, she had studiously avoided even glancing his way. She spoke very little and never directly to him. Only the children seemed able to garner her attention. Gilbert's shoulders slumped in dejection as he slowly withdrew his hand. Sympathy warmed his friend's gaze as their eyes met over her head and Gilbert shied away from the other man's pity. He didn't deserve it.

"No need to worry, My Lady." Sumter assured her. "Narwhal won't be bothering anyone anymore."

"What happened?" She asked quietly.

"The building collapsed. Must have happened just after you escaped. We found his body under the wreckage."

Gilbert watched Beatrice wilt with relief. At least that was one less problem for her to worry over.

"Good thing too. Saves us all the trouble of delivering him to the gibbet." The former clerk continued.

"I don't understand. Why would Mr. Narwhal hang for kidnapping me?"

"Not just for kidnapping, My Lady. Murder." Sumter confided solemnly.

"Murder?" Beatrice breathed in shock.

Sumter nodded slowly.

"Young Barkley was supposed to be guarding the prisoner through the evening while Sheriff Daimler and his deputy got some rest."

"Oh no." Beatrice covered her lips, her face pinched with horror.

"I will spare the gruesome details but suffice to say Sheriff found the body and rounded everyone up for the manhunt."

"That poor boy." She moaned and Gilbert could see the guilt dragging her under.

He hesitated but an instant. Then reached out and gingerly set his hand over her stiffened shoulder. As expected, she flinched but he waited until she glanced back at him inquiringly before he quickly removed his hand and firmly shook his head.

"Not you." He rasped.

"No, it's definitely not your fault, My Lady." Sumter assured her, correctly interpreting Gilbert's meaning. "If anyone is to blame it should be Narwhal. And perhaps, me."

"You?" Beatrice asked, startled.

"Yes, My Lady. After he saw that ring I returned to you," Sumter glanced significantly at Beatrice's left hand. "Narwhal was desperate to ensure the rest of his treasure was still safely hidden."

Everyone's eyes fell on the box at Sumter's feet. It was obviously an old relic from time long past. Not very big. Just wide enough to cover a man's two hands, the lid flat, the wood old and stained with grime. At one point insects must have gotten to it as there were small holes bored through the edges.

"My ring was part of his treasure?"

"Certainly." Sumter assured her. "I found it when I was tallying inventory one day. I recognized the family crest and grew curious. If Narwhal had this one small treasure, what other trinkets did he have hidden away?" Sumter rested a hand on the box. "I followed him one night and watched him putting something under the floorboards of the Hostlers next door."

"What was he hiding?" Felicia asked curiously.

"Everything is inside this box, Miss." Sumter explained.

"Is it a pirate treasure chest?" Teddy asked, his awed gaze fixed on the box.

Sumter chuckled heartily.

"Not quite, but you're close." The man knelt down on the grass and waited patiently as the three children gathered around him.

Beatrice remained where she sat though Gilbert noticed her drawn forward as if she couldn't help herself. She was nearly as keen to discover what was in that chest as the children. As for himself, he really could care less. Nothing that would fit in such a small chest could be so important as to risk life and limb for.

"Sheriff Daimler said I could return this to you."

"Return?" Beatrice echoed in confusion. "But, I've never seen that box before."

"Yes, My Lady. But everything inside belongs to you just the same." Sumter explained patiently. Then he looked to Teddy with a grin. "Or rather it belongs to young Master Teddy."

"Me?" Teddy exclaimed, his eyes bulging in surprise.

"You are the new Lord Smollett, are you not?" Sumter grinned as Teddy straightened his shoulders and puffed his chest with pride.

"What is in it?" Felicia crept closer in a bid to be first to see inside.

Instead of answering aloud, Sumter carefully folded back the lid and indicated the contents with a wave. Curious, they all leaned closer and gasped in surprise, wide eyes locked on the contents. Treasure of every shape and color winked back at them in the early morning sunlight. Precious jewelry, golden chains, diamond rings and bracelets, red rubies, blue sapphires, green emeralds and lustrous pearls of ever size.

"Ooo, pretty." Martine breathed in wonder, reaching out to touch the precious gems.

"No." Beatrice snapped fearfully, snatching the child's arm before her small fingers could come in contact.

"But, why Aunt Be?" Martine asked, batting wide innocent eyes at her aunt.

Beatrice barely even noticed. Her attention was fixed fearfully on that chest.

"It's not ours." Her gaze leapt to Sumter's. "It can't be ours. There must be some mistake. That horde can't belong to us." She insisted.

"But it belongs to you all the same, Missus." Sumter gently insisted.

"But that can't be."

Sumter smiled indulgently as he reached into the pile and slowly lifted out a simple gold chain. Dangling from the chain was a locket of matching gold.

"I think you might recognize a few of these pieces." He presented it for Beatrice's inspection.

Beatrice stared fixedly at the rope of gold, swallowed deep and finally reached out to accept it.

"This was my mother's. I remember..." her voice trailed off, her expression dazed and confused. "But how?"

"Lady Cecilia." Sumter explained softly. "Narwhal took them in lou of payment for her debts."

Gilbert watched as Beatrice swallowed hard. He knew how difficult this must be for her. To see how far the family finances had slid. Her brother's young widow forced to sacrifice her jewelry to repay their debts. Slowly, almost reluctantly, she slid the locket from Sumter's hand. Thumbing the latch on the edge, she gently peeled open the locket to reveal two painted portraits. One of a pretty young woman with blond curls who could only be Beatrice's mother. Looking out from the opposite side was an older man with copper red hair. The same coppery color shimmering in the morning light around her pretty face.

"Ooh," Martine breathed in amazement. "Who is it, Aunt Bea?"

"That's Grandfather and Grandmother." Teddy told her, glancing over his sister's head.

"I remember them. Grandfather loved telling stories and Grandmother would scold him for telling tall tales." Felicia added softly.

"How come I don't remember them?" Martine asked with a scowl.

"You were too little. Just a new baby when they were taken from us." Teddy said quietly.

Beatrice continued to stare fixedly at the two portraits. Gilbert watched her swallow and sniff as she struggled with her emotions.

"But not all these pieces belonged to my mother." She stubbornly pointed out.

"True," Sumter agreed graciously. "But they belong to you all the same. Or at least, they once belonged to one of your ancestors. It belongs to you now." Sumter reiterated, then his eyes met Gilbert's over their heads. "Narwhal found most of it in the cellars of that old castle of yours, Lourson."

Beatrice swiveled around and stared aghast at Gilbert, accusation and hurt in her eyes. Hastily, he shook his head in denial, as completely flummoxed as she.

"I'm certain Mr. Lourson had no knowledge of the treasure." The skinny clerk raced to explain. "He purchased the castle long after Narwhal stripped it bare of anything of value."

Beatrice frowned, her confusion plain as her gaze returned to Sumter.

"But how does that make it ours, then?"

Exactly what Gilbert himself was thinking.

"My Lady, that castle was once the family seat for the entire Smollett clan."