The Pearls That Stayed Warm

Lamplight glowed down the long gallery of Elderwick Hall. Rain whispered on the tall windows, and the smell of beeswax polish hung in the air. In the center of the gallery stood the glass case that had held the Moonrise Pearls for forty years. Miss Prudence Vale, the appraiser from the city, unlocked the case with Lady Honoria's key, lifted the strand, and touched one bead gently to her cheek. Then she set it down. 'Real pearls feel cool,' she said quietly. 'These stayed warm. These are glass.' Lady Honoria Dunmore went very still. The famous pearls — her grandmother's — were gone, and a careful copy lay in their place. The case lock was unmarked. The key cabinet in the butler's pantry was untouched. Nothing was broken, nothing forced. Somewhere, at some time, the real pearls had simply walked away, and a twin had taken their seat. Four people at Elderwick that night knew the pearls, the case, and the keys well enough to matter. One of them knew far more than that.