CHAPTER IX

by Wilkie Collins

June twenty-first, the day of the birthday, started off cloudy and unsettled, but by noon, the skies cleared up beautifully.

In the servants’ hall, we kicked off this special day, as we always did, by presenting our small gifts to Miss Rachel. I, as the chief, delivered the familiar speech that has become a tradition. I follow a method similar to the Queen’s opening of Parliament—saying much the same thing year after year. Before I speak, everyone anticipates my words as if they’ve never heard anything like it before. When I finally deliver it, and it turns out to be the same old routine, they grumble a bit but still look forward to something fresh next year. It’s easy to manage both Parliament and the Kitchen—that’s the lesson here.

After breakfast, Mr. Franklin and I had a private discussion about the Moonstone. It was time to take it out of the bank at Frizinghall and place it in Miss Rachel’s hands.

I wasn’t sure if he had been trying to win over his cousin again and faced rejection, or if his sleepless nights were making his already complicated character even more unpredictable. But it was clear that Mr. Franklin wasn’t at his best that morning. He wavered about the Diamond, changing his mind every few minutes. Meanwhile, I stuck to the facts as we knew them. Nothing had happened to justify alarming my lady about the jewel, and Mr. Franklin was still legally obligated to give it to his cousin. That was my perspective, and no matter how he twisted it, he eventually had to agree with me. We decided he would ride over to Frizinghall after lunch to retrieve the Diamond, likely accompanied by Mr. Godfrey and the two young ladies on the way back.

With that settled, our young gentleman returned to Miss Rachel.

They spent the entire morning and part of the afternoon decorating the door, with Penelope mixing colors as instructed. My lady, as lunchtime approached, kept coming in and out of the room, handkerchief to her nose (they were using a lot of Mr. Franklin’s paint that day), trying unsuccessfully to pull the two artists away from their work. It was three o’clock before they finally took off their aprons, cleaned up their mess, and released Penelope, who was worse for wear from the paint. But they had accomplished what they set out to do—they finished the door on the birthday and were quite proud of it. The griffins, cupids, and other decorations were truly beautiful, though so numerous and tangled in flowers and designs that they left an uncomfortable impression in your mind long after you stopped looking at them. And if I mention that Penelope ended her part of the morning by getting sick in the back kitchen, it’s not out of any ill will toward the paint. No! It stopped smelling once it dried, and if Art requires such sacrifices—though she is my own daughter—I say, let Art have them!

Mr. Franklin grabbed a quick bite from the lunch table and rode off to Frizinghall—to escort his cousins, as he told my lady. But we both knew he was really going to fetch the Moonstone.

Since this was one of the grand occasions when I took my place at the sideboard, overseeing the table service, I had plenty to keep me busy while Mr. Franklin was away. After ensuring the wine was ready and reviewing the staff who would serve dinner, I stepped away to gather my thoughts before the guests arrived. A quick whiff of—you know what—and a moment with a certain book I’ve mentioned before helped me relax, both body and mind. I was pulled from what I like to think was not a nap but a daydream by the sound of horses’ hooves outside. Going to the door, I welcomed a group that included Mr. Franklin and his three cousins, accompanied by one of old Mr. Ablewhite’s grooms.

Mr. Godfrey struck me as oddly similar to Mr. Franklin in one respect: neither seemed to be in their usual spirits. He greeted me warmly, shaking my hand and expressing his delight at seeing his old friend Betteredge looking so well. Yet, there was a shadow hanging over him that I couldn’t quite place. When I asked how his father was doing, he replied rather curtly, “Much the same as usual.”

On the other hand, the two Miss Ablewhites were bursting with energy, more than enough to balance out Mr. Godfrey’s mood. They were nearly as tall as their brother, lively, golden-haired, rosy-cheeked girls, overflowing with health and vitality. The horses struggled to carry them, and when they leapt from their saddles without waiting for help, they landed on the ground like they were made of rubber. Everything the Miss Ablewhites said began with an enthusiastic “O,” and everything they did was accompanied by a bang. They giggled and shrieked at the slightest provocation. I called them bouncers.

Amid the ruckus created by the young ladies, I found a moment to speak privately with Mr. Franklin in the hall.

“Do you have the Diamond safe, sir?”

He nodded and tapped the pocket of his coat.

“Have you seen anything of the Indians?”

“Not a glimpse.” With that, he asked about my lady and, upon hearing she was in the small drawing-room, headed there immediately.

Before he had been in the room for a minute, the bell rang, and Penelope was sent to inform Miss Rachel that Mr. Franklin Blake wanted to speak with her.

About half an hour later, as I crossed the hall, I was suddenly halted by a burst of screams from the small drawing-room. I wasn’t alarmed, as I recognized the Miss Ablewhites’ familiar enthusiastic “O.” Still, I went in under the pretense of asking for dinner instructions to see if anything serious had occurred.

Miss Rachel stood at the table, seemingly entranced, holding the Colonel’s ill-fated Diamond. On either side of her knelt the two Bouncers, their eyes glued to the jewel, screaming with delight every time it caught the light. Opposite them stood Mr. Godfrey, clapping his hands like a large child and softly exclaiming, “Exquisite! Exquisite!” Mr. Franklin sat in a chair by the bookcase, tugging at his beard, anxiously glancing toward the window. And there, at the window, was the focus of his concern—my lady, holding the extract from the Colonel’s Will, her back turned to everyone.

When I asked for my instructions, she turned to face me, and I could see the family frown forming in her eyes and the family temper twitching at the corners of her mouth.

“Come to my room in half an hour,” she said. “I’ll have something to discuss with you then.”

With that, she left. It was clear she was grappling with the same dilemma that had troubled Mr. Franklin and me during our meeting at the Shivering Sand. Was the legacy of the Moonstone evidence of her cruel treatment of her brother, or was it proof that he was worse than she had ever imagined? Serious questions for my lady to ponder, while her daughter, blissfully unaware of the Colonel’s true character, stood there holding the Colonel’s birthday gift.

Before I could exit, Miss Rachel, always considerate of the old servant who had been in the house since her birth, stopped me. “Look, Gabriel!” she exclaimed, flashing the jewel before my eyes in a beam of sunlight streaming through the window.

Goodness! It was a Diamond! Almost as large as a plover’s egg! The light radiating from it was like the glow of a harvest moon. When you looked into the stone, it drew your gaze into a yellow abyss that seemed to swallow everything else. It felt unfathomable; this jewel, which you could hold between your fingers, seemed as deep as the heavens. We set it in the sunlight, then shut the light out of the room, and it glowed eerily from the depths of its own brilliance, casting a moony gleam in the dark. No wonder Miss Rachel was captivated; no wonder her cousins screamed. The Diamond had such a hold on me that I let out an “O” as loud as the Bouncers. The only one of us who remained composed was Mr. Godfrey. He wrapped an arm around each of his sisters’ waists, looking back and forth between the Diamond and me, and said, “Carbon, Betteredge! Just mere carbon, my good friend, after all!”

I suppose his goal was to teach me something. But all he really did was remind me about dinner. I made my way downstairs to my team of waiters. As I was leaving, Mr. Godfrey called out, “Dear old Betteredge, I have the utmost respect for him!” He was busy embracing his sisters and eyeing Miss Rachel while he threw that compliment my way. It seemed like he had a reserve of affection to draw from! Mr. Franklin, on the other hand, was a complete brute compared to him.

After half an hour, I showed up in my lady’s room as instructed.

My conversation with her was mostly a repeat of what I had discussed with Mr. Franklin at the Shivering Sand. The only difference was that I kept quiet about the jugglers, since nothing had happened to warrant alarming my lady. When she dismissed me, I could tell she viewed the Colonel’s intentions in the darkest light possible and was determined to retrieve the Moonstone from her daughter at the first chance she got.

On my way back to my part of the house, I ran into Mr. Franklin. He asked if I had seen his cousin Rachel. I hadn’t. He then wanted to know where his cousin Godfrey was. I didn’t know, but I began to suspect that Godfrey might not be far from Rachel. Mr. Franklin seemed to share the same suspicion. He tugged at his beard and stormed off to the library, slamming the door behind him with a force that spoke volumes.

I was undisturbed in my preparations for the birthday dinner until it was time for me to get ready to receive the guests. Just as I was putting on my white waistcoat, Penelope appeared at my side, claiming she was there to brush what little hair I had left and adjust my white cravat. She was in high spirits, and I could tell she had something important to share. She planted a kiss on my bald head and whispered, “I have news for you, father! Miss Rachel has turned him down.”

“Who’s ‘him’?” I asked.

“The committee man, father,” Penelope replied. “That sly fellow! I can’t stand him for trying to take Mr. Franklin’s place!”

If I had had the breath, I would have protested against her disrespectful remarks about such a distinguished philanthropic figure. But at that moment, she was adjusting my cravat, and her emotions were pouring into her fingers. I had never felt so close to being strangled in my life.

“I saw him take her into the rose garden alone,” Penelope continued. “I hid behind the holly to see how they came back. They went out arm-in-arm, both laughing. But when they returned, they were walking separately, looking as serious as could be, and avoiding each other’s gaze. I’ve never been more delighted, father! There’s at least one woman in the world who can resist Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite, and if I were a lady, I would be another!”

I should have protested again, but by now, Penelope had picked up the hairbrush, and all her feelings had transferred to that. If you’re bald, you’ll understand how she sacrificed me. If you’re not, skip this part and be grateful you have something to protect your head from a hairbrush.

“Just on the other side of the holly,” Penelope continued, “Mr. Godfrey stopped. ‘You prefer,’ he said, ‘that I should stay here as if nothing happened?’ Miss Rachel shot back at him. ‘You’ve accepted my mother’s invitation,’ she said, ‘and you’re here to meet her guests. Unless you want to cause a scandal in the house, you’ll stay, of course!’ She walked a few steps away and then seemed to soften a bit. ‘Let’s forget what happened, Godfrey,’ she said, ‘and let’s remain cousins.’ She offered him her hand. He kissed it, which I would have considered crossing a line, and then she left him. He stood there for a moment, head down, grinding his heel into the gravel path. You’ve never seen a man look more upset. ‘Awkward!’ he muttered under his breath as he looked up and headed toward the house. ‘Very awkward!’ If that was how he felt, he was absolutely right. It was awkward enough, I’m sure. And the end result, father, is just what I’ve been telling you all along,” Penelope concluded, delivering the final blow with a flourish. “Mr. Franklin is the man!”

I finally took hold of the hairbrush and opened my mouth to deliver the reprimand that, as you must agree, my daughter’s words and behavior so richly deserved.

Before I could say anything, the sound of carriage wheels outside interrupted me. The first guests had arrived. Penelope dashed off immediately. I slipped on my coat and glanced in the mirror. My face was as red as a lobster, but aside from that, I was dressed perfectly for the evening’s festivities.

I made it to the hall just in time to greet the first two guests. You don’t need to be too curious about them; they were just the philanthropist’s parents—Mr. and Mrs. Ablewhite.