Songs of Sappho 5
Bound by Fortune
by
Marie-Elise Bassett
An Imprint of
Musa Publishing
Bound
by Fortune, Songs of Sappho 5,
by Marie-Elise Bassett
Copyright
© Marie-Elise Bassett, 2011
Smashwords edition
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All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.
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This e-Book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the names, characters, incidents, and locations within are from the author’s imagination and are not a resemblance to actual living or dead persons, businesses, or events. Any similarity is coincidental.
Musa Publishing
633 Edgewood
Ave
Lancaster, OH 43130
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Published by Musa Publishing, December 2011
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This e-Book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. No part of this ebook can be reproduced or sold by any person or business without the express permission of the publisher.
ISBN: 978-1-61937-925-1
Published in the United States of America
Editor: Annie Seaton
Cover Design: Kelly Shorten
Interior Book Design: Coreen Montagna
Warning
This e-book contains adult language and scenes. This story is meant only for adults as defined by the laws of the country where you made your purchase. Store your e-books carefully where they cannot be accessed by younger readers.
Bound by Fortune
“I want to know what you are doing about the robbery. Jewels do not vanish.” The Dowager Countess Ethelbert’s voice had gone shrill with displeasure.
Normally Hermione Dunnaby would have been annoyed to have her breakfast interrupted with hysterics, but Calloway’s Adventure Tours had failed miserably to live up to its name and so she turned with interest, as did all her dining companions.
The Dowager possessed neither beauty nor grace, but her bony frame was always draped in gems. She had recently been displaced by her son’s marriage which must account for her presence on the tour. Most of the tour members were lesser gentry like Hermione or wealthy merchants like the Appletons.
The Dowager was overdressed for morning in heavy fabric with an elaborate turban wrapped about her head, secured by an emerald brooch. Hermione had come to expect the woman’s absurd insistence on dinner wear in the morning, but the turban was a new touch. The Dowager’s hair was terribly thin, and pink scalp could usually be seen through her coiffure which begged the question why she needed such a large wrapping.
Signore Russo, proprietor of the Venetian inn where the tour group was staying, raised both hands in supplication. “Per favore, Contessa, per favore. I will call the Polizia di Stato but not so loud.”
Mrs. Blakemoor, seated across from Louisa, put down her coffee uneasily. “Did you say a robbery?”
“No, no, a small matter only. Non importanta. Is not a worry,” Signore Russo said.
The Dowager became more shrill at the slighting of her jewelry. “A small matter? My diamonds are a most serious matter.”
“Diamonds!” Hermione exclaimed.
She had seen the Dowager’s diamonds hanging about her neck on numerous occasions; they all had. Repeatedly they had been lectured about the value of the necklace, the clarity of the stones, the unusual yellow color. But hadn’t they also been constantly reminded of the security procedures in place to safeguard the Ethelbert diamonds?
Mrs. Blakemoor must have thought the same thing for she said, “Surely you had them in your safe?”
“And your room is so very high,” Hermione said. The Dowager had the entire top floor with a grand view of the canal. The only way into her room would be through the heavily fortified front door, or a window four floors above the water level, and it was preposterous to think someone came in through the window.
“It was that demmed Magpie,” the Dowager Countess said. “Tell that to your police, not that I imagine a bunch of foreigners can find him when Scotland Yard’s finest have failed to do so. He must have come through my window last night.”
“The Magpie! Impossible.” Mrs. Blakemoor had suddenly paled. Indeed, she looked rather faint.
“Magpie? Scusi, but what is a Magpie?” Signore Russo scratched his head.
“The Magpie isn’t a what, Signore. He is a who,” Hermione said.
“I say, are you all right?” Colonel Fenderly asked Mrs. Blakemoor, his brushy white mustache curled down as he frowned.
“I tell you, it was the Magpie,” the Dowager insisted. She held up a glossy black feather triumphantly. “Look!”
The small group gasped collectively.
For the last decade, a clever jewel thief known as the Magpie had bedeviled Scotland Yard and the members of the aristocracy. This burglar seemed to delight in taking only the choicest jewels from the most difficult locations. He had a special fondness for lofty places such as the Dowager’s window, leaving no trace of how he scaled the heights, as if he had flown there. And always in place of the jewels he left behind his calling card, a magpie feather.