The Treasure of Ecarte Island

There Goes A Tenner

After Lord Borameer's masked ball, the thought of quitting The Season did actually cross Daphne Piermont's mind. Her parents owned a quaint lakeside chateau in Blyden she could be off to without too much fuss.  It was her promise to continue as Dietfried Baugainvillea's eyes and ears, however, that kept her from sneaking away and was, therefore, present and accounted for at Baron Haussmann's annual military gala.
         Not only were her minders, the Devereux's, unaware of the threat Daphne endured at the masked ball, but were also ignorant of her weapon, if needed, for protection. Actually, it was no more than a hat pin, but one she kept hidden secured against the length of her lower right leg.
Daphne had even practiced at retrieving it quickly from beneath her skirts, but sincerely hoped there would be no need for its use.
The gala celebrated the brave lads of the 123rd battalion that had been stationed in Leiden during the war. Leidenschaftlichen uniforms of all ranks were in every direction, but to Daphne it was sorely missing Captain Baugainvillea in his gloriously decorated naval white tunic.
For the most part, Daphne spent most of her time waltzing with the various veterans as well as keeping an eye on Avoria Devereux. It was not as if Avoria was exactly Daphne's charge, but Daphne still felt responsible for her, this being the young girl's coming out Season. If Avoria was anything like Daphne herself had been at that age, Lord and Lady Devereux could use all the help they could get.
At the moment, Avoria was waltzing with a slight man out of uniform looking to be somewhere in his late thirties with the unfortunate countenance not unlike a skinny weasel. Avoria, being brought up a proper young lady, never let her expression of delight slip from her face.
Daphne was pleasantly conversing with an elderly former lieutenant over a drink, when a familiar scent reached her nose. It wafted off a passer-by and it caused Daphne to stop in mid-sentence. She quickly turned to catch the owner of the strong cologne only to see the back of his head as he walked toward a cigar smoke-filled gambling parlor of the ballroom.
"Anything the matter, my dear?" asked the former lieutenant.
Daphne apologized and finished her thought when Avoria and 'the weasel' came to them.
"Daphne, Lieutenant," Avoria acknowledged them, "May I present Sir Honore Beaufort."
"Ah, yes! Sir Beaufort!" greeted the Lieutenant, then said to Daphne, "You may find, my dear, that there are many a lady wearing a Beaufort family cut gem upon their fingers here tonight."
"Is that so?" commented Daphne, "Happy to meet you, Sir Beaufort."
Honore Beaufort, kissed Daphne's offered gloved hand. "Lady Daphne, the Lady Avoria tells me of your close association with Captain Baugainvillea, just the man I most needed to meet." He scanned the ballroom, "And where might he be lurking?"
"Unfortunately unable to attend tonight." Daphne lamented.
"A pity," said Beaufort, "Had questions of the real estate opportunities on Ecarte Island."
Daphne's heart gave a little leap, but was careful to not show her reaction on her face. Instead, she decided to calmly and politely delve further.
"Ecarte Island? I am aware of the Captain's familial connection with the area, but your interest in real estate there simply escapes my imagination."
Sir Beaufort chose this moment to sip his drink, then cleared his throat. "Well, I find it to be quite serene. Don't you?"
"I've never had the pleasure to visit Ecarte. I am assuming you have taken a recent excursion?"
"A brief one, actually. I journeyed there with my widowed aunt to consult with a children's clothing designer of all things!"
"Ah! Yes! The talents of Ms. Geneva Callie are renown."
"Indeed." Beaufort replied. He then turned his attention back to Avoria as the orchestra began another waltz. "May I have another dance, Lady Avoria?"
Avoria politely accepted, and together they excused themselves.
The lieutenant excused himself , as well, leaving Daphne alone to happily ponder the telegram she'd be sending to Dietfried as soon as the next morning. She strolled, about, oblivious to those about her, absently fanning herself with her elaborate tasseled fan when she heard gay laughter from the nearby gambling parlor apart from the formal gambling parlor and lots smaller.
Daphne stopped and peered through swirls of cigar smoke to find a table of not only men, but women, too. It seemed the women were actually the players while their men (not necessarily their husbands) placed the bets. There was even a couple of older women flippantly slipping off one of many jewels from about their wrists, fingers and necks to place in the betting circle.
Everyone had had plenty, if not too much to drink, hence the laughter, hence the betting of jewels possibly worth thousands. . .
Daphne approached the table, immediately recognizing the card game the group was playing. Laurie had taught it to her years ago when they had began their engagement, when subjects for conversation were rather few in number, but it was the one activity they found most amusing. They had even played enough with others to learn strategy and a bit of card counting.
Daphne had no idea how much Hilary owed from his gambling shenanigans, but over the last couple of days, she dared to contemplate the implications of him not paying his debt soon. The outlook looked poor on a number of levels.
First of all, there was self preservation. Threats of possible assault anytime, anywhere could not be taken lightly. True, Daphne had talked quite a game at the masked ball, but in honesty, she felt concern, not only for herself and Hilary, but also for Dietfried, and even the Devereux's.
         Secondly, Hilary's reputation was certainly  at stake. Although Daphne could not imagine Dietfried disowning him as heir, seeing Hilary's reputation ruined on his watch would simply be intolerable.
        And last, but certainly not least, was the fact that if Hilary was actually disowned, then why would he be in need of a court tutrice? Not only that, but her parents would not even consider a betrothal between herself and Hilary Baugainvillea if there were no promise of inheritance.
         And without Hilary, she'd be lost to Dietfried's company forevermore. . . which clinched her decision to join in the card game. 
Daphne concentrated on all the strategies Laurie had taught her. With these and a bit of luck, perhaps she could win enough to secretly appease Hilary's debtors enough to, at least, keep his reputation intact, and keep the Baugainvillea's  within her social circle.
          Of course, Daphne had nothing to make an opening bet. The jewelry she wore belonged to generations of Piermont women, and were, therefore, non-negotiable. All she could really put on the table was the hidden hat pin, which just so happened to be topped with a solid gold parakeet, with real rubies for eyes.
         With a great breath, Daphne swiped a drink from a nearby waiter and took a seat recently vacated at the game table.
          The two intoxicated elderly women rejoiced, praising Daphne for joining without the betting support of a man.
          "Now here is young girl with some spunk!" cried the elder of the two, "Making her own way, she is! Now, dearest honey love, what have you to offer the table for our next round? I'm tossing in this black opal brooch given to me by some worthless, lovesick Duke from before the war. What have you?"
           Daphne drew out her weapon hat pin and sat it next to the discarded brooch. These items were soon enough joined by a great number of gold coins, a gold ring set with modest sized emerald, and a goodly pile of bank notes.  Then the round began.
           At anytime during the round one was allowed to take back what they had thrown in, but those at the table only threw in more, such was their inebriated generosity. This was very much to Daphne's advantage. She cleverly put into play all the strategies she could recall while all the others laughed away their good sense. 
           Needless to say, Daphne won back her hat pin, along with all the gold and banknotes. She did not, however, receive in her winnings the high priced jewelry, for in this game, the other fairly good hands were given back what they had wagered.
          "Bah! Let it ride!" shouted the old lady, again throwing in the black opal brooch, as if it were no more than a common chunk of coal.
            Her cheeky attitude rallied the rest of them to flippantly throw in jewelry, their valued amount, no doubt, obscene.  If Daphne could only win by a large enough margin, then the whole lot would go to her alone. If it did not satisfy the debt, then surely it would come mighty damn close.
             The opal brooch had company with no less than a yellow diamond bracelet. It was placed by an uncommonly beautiful, yet cruel looking middle-aged woman who cared nothing but to seek vengeance upon an onlooking lover. The lover's light good humored expression fell into a much troubled one, watching her remove the bracelet he had apparently gifted her and flopping it carelessly on the heap of all the other discarded jewelry.
            Daphne stared at the bracelet. Winning it alone would immediately solve any debt problem. 
              The woman and the jilted lover bickered over this situation until everyone else shouted at them that all bets were closed. In the end, the bracelet remained, practically free for the taking.
             Now was the obvious time to concentrate fully on the tactic of card counting, something Laurie could do with ease, his mind gifted in the science of mathematics. Daphne was quite good at numbers in her own right, but knew if she had not been completely sober, this maneuver would have been impossible for her.
            The high stakes game began, and others from beyond the gambling parlor wandered in, drawn by the extravagant betting pool.  Included among them stood Honore Beaufort, his beady, dark eyes hungrily scanning the loot strewn over the table.
           It took several rounds, and for each one, Daphne feared the owner of the diamond bracelet would have second thoughts and remove the bracelet from the pool.  The now outraged lover kept urging the woman to do just that, but she merely looked at him scathingly and continued to play.
           By the time Daphne held the best hand of cards possible, she had a fairly positive idea of the hands of her opponents. If her assumption was correct, then her hand bested them all by such a margin that she might very well win the entire purse.
            Daphne demurely lifted her hand and tapped the tabletop signaling the end of the game. The conversation immediately stopped and all eyes fell upon her.
          "Show us the hand, dearest honey love!" shouted the elderly lady, "I've only little time left in this world! Show us your hand before I have to leave it!"
          Daphne presented her cards, as did everyone else.  A secret smile touched her lips as a great roar of applause rose from the smothering crowd. She had successfully counted the cards, and, indeed, won the entire prize.
Daphne took up her parakeet hat pin and replaced it along her lower leg, then generously returned much of her winnings, particularly the banknotes. She did, however, keep the jewelry with no one at the table causing any fuss. The bracelet owner merely waved it off, ready for the next game.
Daphne left the table with her winnings in her silk cinched bag, only to be met with the strong smell of cologne just behind her. She turned about quickly to face a young man not much older than herself with hard dark eyes and a heavy brow, his mouth in a perpetual frown.
Daphne defiantly looked down her nose at him. "You were right, sir. I do not know you even without your demon mask."
His brow furrowed, unamused at her finding him out. "Still no Baugainvillea, I see."
"No, so what now? More threats? Is that what your boss instructed?"
The man leaned closer to her and said lowly. "The time for threats is over, my lady. On to punishment."
Daphne sighed, and rolled her eyes, exaggerating the inconvenience of it all. "Just how much does the rascal owe you people, hmm? Because, honestly, if I have to breathe in your cheap rank cologne just one more time, I'd much rather just pay the debt myself!"
The man, now even angrier from the insult, discreetly snatched her elbow. "Yes, but it is far more than you have any right to even know."
"Ah! Lady Daphne!" called an approaching Honore Beaufort, being none the wiser of her situation with the stranger. "I say! Good show at the table!"
Daphne smiled prettily as she felt the grabbing hand of the stranger loosen and fall away from her elbow.
"Sir Beaufort! Just the man I wanted to see!"
"Oh?" Honore replied, a slight flush coloring his hollow thin cheeks. "And how may I be of assistance?" Daphne saw his eyes glance at her silk bag full of items he could very well want a chance to procure.
Daphne placed a hand upon his sleeve. "Perhaps somewhere a bit more private, Sir Beaufort."
"Oh, why, certainly!"
Daphne led the way, then looked back at the stranger. "Well, come along, then."
Honore Beaufort looked at her with a hint of a frown, perhaps hoping to be alone with her in private. Daphne read his expression, "Just a bit of business involving your expertise, Sir Beaufort, if you would."
"Very well," sighed Honore as they convened in a side sitting room with plenty of good lighting.
Daphne opened her silk bag, and fished out the yellow diamond bracelet. "Have you the ability to appraise such an item?"
"Ooo! Yes, I hoped for a closer inspection of this particular piece of jewelry."
Honore brought out of his pocket a jeweler's loupe. He carefully fitted it to his left eye and peered at the bracelet.
"Hmmm," he breathed in such a way that brought a stab of doubt into Daphne's heart. Honore then took the magnifying eyepiece away and said, "Just as I half expected." He held up the bracelet between two fingers as if he were handling a long dead centipede. "It's nothing more than cut glass! Wonder if the lady realized it?"
Daphne's face drained its color as the stranger smirked beside her.
Honore Beaufort gave the fake diamond bracelet back to her, and Daphne could do nothing but slip it back into the bag.
"Now, the real jewel that could be of extremely high value is that black opal brooch! May I inspect it next?"
Daphne spirits immediately lifted as she took out the twice over castaway opal brooch and laid it in Honore's awaiting palm.
He replaced the loupe to his eye and inspected it closely, then turned it on its flat back and read the tiny insignia engraved there.
"Oh, yeeesss!" he said with an almost disturbing sensuous air. He let the loupe drop away from his eye and into his hand. "This is part of the very first black opal collection created by the great jewelry smith Zubin Lietch!" Honore lifted up the brooch. "Bidding for this would start at no less than three quarters of a million!"
"And ultimately go for?" Daphne asked.
Honore swallowed hard, the protuding cartilage in his thin neck working. "I'd say well over two and a half, maybe three million!"
"Hmm, excellent." Daphne replied calmly, taking back the brooch and turning to the stranger, "I shall gift it to you only if we are square. Are we considered square, sir? Yes or no?"
The stranger only gaped at her with wide eyes, but ultimately gave a silent nod.
"Yes, good." Daphne dropped the brooch into the stranger's hand. "Then negotiate with Sir Beaufort here, and steer clear from me and mine. Now, as far as we are all concerned, this little meeting never happened. Agreed?" Both men agreed.
Daphne confidently exited the sitting room. Oh, how she wished she could disclose this event to Dietfried! He would find it ever so amusing! But she knew she could only divulge to Hilary, who will most likely sulk out of embarrassment that she paid his debt.
Damned Hilary Baugainvillea! She thought miserably. If anyone deserves a stabbing with a hat pin, it's you!