by Amanda Quick
Lysons was unusual not only because of his keen interest in British antiquities, she thought, but also because he paid close attention to the oddly fascinating, if somewhat mundane, relics of daily life. She turned to another one of the colored plates and smiled at the carefully rendered drawings of several elegantly shaped pottery bowls.
Tobias looked at Vale. “I’m certain that you are already aware that we are searching for the man who murdered Celeste Hudson. We believe that she stole the Blue Medusa shortly before her death.”
“So you are, in effect, looking for the Medusa on the assumption that the killer now has it,” Vale concluded.
“It is our hope that the bracelet will lead us to the murderer,” Lavinia explained. “It is an odd relic, by all accounts. We thought it would be useful to know more about it.”
“And about those who might have an interest in obtaining it,” Tobias added. “Mr. Nightingale implied that there are some collectors who would pay dearly for it in order to use it to apply for admission to the Connoisseurs Club.”
“Ah, yes, Nightingale. A very enterprising gentleman.” Vale sipped tea and slowly lowered his cup. “Serious collectors interested in gaining admission to the club would know that, as the founder and keeper of the museum, I have a preference for antiquities discovered on English soil. Indeed, I would be strongly disposed to look approvingly on whoever presented such an object to the club’s private collection.”
Lavinia turned away from the beautiful book on the table. “What can you tell us, sir?”
Vale put aside his cup and saucer and got to his feet. “Before I discuss the Blue Medusa, I believe I will show you the club’s private museum.”
They rose and followed him to a door set into the paneled wall on the other side of the library. Vale opened it and revealed a staircase. He led the way up the steps.
At the landing he opened another door and ushered them into a long gallery.
Lavinia saw at once that the shadowy chamber extended the entire length of the great house. The gallery was lined with glass-enclosed cases, tall wooden cabinets, and massive chests of drawers.
Statuary stood in the corners. Ancient vases, urns, and broken bits of columns littered the floor. Half a dozen stone sarcophagi were stacked against one wall.
“This is wonderful.” Lavinia moved to the nearest display case and saw row upon row of silver and gold coins bearing the portraits of ancient Roman emperors, neatly arrayed on black fabric.
Joan went to stand at a case and studied an exquisitely worked gold necklace set with a number of emeralds. “This is a new acquisition, is it not, Vale? I do not recall seeing it the last time I was here.”
“You have not paid me a visit since Fielding’s death,” Vale said softly. “As it happens, I have been away a good deal of the time this past year. I spent several months exploring the ruins of an ancient Roman villa not far from Bath. The mosaics were quite astonishing. I made some colored drawings.”
Joan turned away from the necklace. “I should like to see them.”
Vale smiled. “I would be delighted to show them to you.”
Lavinia saw the silent invitation in his eyes and knew from the way Joan moved quickly to another display case that she had seen it too.
Tobias appeared oblivious to the small exchange. He examined a vase with casual interest and then looked at Vale. “This is the club’s private museum, I assume?”
“Yes.” Vale stroked the carved stone of an ancient altar with a lover’s caress. “Much of what you see in this chamber was found right here in England. It is fashionable to send young men on the Grand Tour to view the glorious ruins of ancient Rome and Greece, but as Mr. Lysons has demonstrated, we have our own rich classical history to explore, do we not? The Connoisseurs are devoted to preserving British antiquities.”
“England was a Roman province for several centuries,” Joan said. “It is reasonable to assume that the ancients left many interesting relics.”
“Indeed. The Romans left us an inheritance in the form of the remains of magnificent villas, public baths, and temples.” He indicated the case of gleaming objects next to her. “And who knows how many hoards of ancient jewelry and coins are yet to be discovered buried in the ground.”
“Few of those hoards are likely to be reported by their discoverers, given the law of treasure trove,” Tobias said dryly. “It is asking a great deal to expect a poor farmer to turn over a cache of ancient gold and silver valuables to the Crown without payment, all so that the objects can be melted down.”
“Indeed.” Vale chuckled. “But rest assured that a good many undeclared discoveries are made on a regular basis, and they go far to ensure a lively market in antiquities for the likes of Mr. Nightingale and other dealers.”
Lavinia examined a series of little enameled bronze brooches twisted into fanciful shapes that made her think of tiny dragons. Then she moved to look at some rings set with engraved stones.
The first featured a red carnelian decorated with the tiny figure of a draped woman. The little cornucopia and steering oar identified her as Fortuna, the goddess of good fortune. The red jasper stone in the neighboring ring depicted another draped goddess, this one winged. She was shown with a small scourge. Lavinia recognized her as Nemesis, the goddess in charge of preserving the balance of good and ill in human affairs and with the task of exacting vengeance.
Tobias lounged against an elaborately carved sarcophagus and looked at Vale. “This is an interesting collection, but I believe you were going to tell us about the Blue Medusa.”
Vale nodded and walked slowly through the gallery. “The bracelet itself is said to be a particularly exquisite example of the ancient goldsmith’s craft. But of even greater interest is the cameo set into it.”
“So we have been told,” Tobias said.
“From what I can determine, the antiquity was found sometime early in the last century. It was handed down through a family that gradually thinned out until only a maiden aunt and her nephew, a boy of about fifteen, were left in the line. One morning many years ago, the aunt’s body was discovered by a maid. The kitchen knife that had been used to kill her was still in her back.”
“Dear heaven,” Lavinia whispered.
“There was no sign of the nephew, and a number of valuables were missing, including the Blue Medusa,” Vale continued. “It seems to have been sold and resold a number of times before Banks eventually found it in a small antiquities shop here in London a year and a half ago.”
“What of the nephew?” Tobias asked.
“As far as I know, he vanished for good. Perhaps he changed his name. Perhaps he died. Perhaps he made his way to America or the Continent. I doubt if anyone searched for him.”
“Even though he was the most likely suspect in his aunt’s murder?” Joan asked.
Vale moved one hand in a flat line. “The boy was not well liked. The neighbors feared him. Evidently there had been some nasty incidents with dead animals and some small fires that were attributed to him. In any event, there was no one who cared greatly about justice for the aunt.”
“We have heard that the cameo is an unusual depiction of the Gorgon,” Tobias said.
“It is not an ordinary representation of Medusa.” Vale paused at the end of the row of gravestones and looked at him from the shadows. “Sometime back I came across an old book that made reference to a peculiar cult that flourished for a time here in England in the fourth century. Arcane societies and secret temples were not unusual in the Roman Empire, especially in the more remote provinces such as England. My studies indicate that a number of them existed here. But this one was quite unique.”
“In what way?” Lavinia asked.
“The cameo includes, in addition to the Medusa figure, a wand or rod. It appears to have been the emblem or seal of the cult’s master, who was both feared and dreaded.”
“Why?” Joan asked curiously.
Vale hesitated and then shrugged. “You will not credit this
, but the old volume indicated that the master practiced an ancient form of mesmerism.”
Lavinia stopped halfway to another display case and spun around. “Mesmerism? In ancient times? But it is a modern science.”
Vale looked amused. “If animal magnetism is, indeed, a real force in the human body, why should it strike you as strange that techniques for controlling it might have been discovered and lost and rediscovered many times over the course of the centuries? Do you really believe that we who live in this enlightened era are the only ones who manage to stumble onto ancient truths? That we are any more intelligent, insightful, or intuitive than those who came be- fore us?”
Lavinia winced. “I take your point, sir. But you must admit, it is odd to consider that some ancient pagan cult here in England may have practiced a science as advanced as mesmerism.”
“Always assuming that it is a science,” Tobias muttered.
Vale laughed softly and turned back to Lavinia. “Odd and deeply fascinating. And, in this case, more than a little disturbing.”
“Why do you say that?” Joan asked sharply.
Vale resumed his stroll through the relics of the past. “According to the book, the master used his mesmeric powers, which were said to be drawn directly from the stone itself, in dark ways. From what I have been able to discern, the cult was founded on fear, secrecy, and great mystery.”
“Medusa was an obvious choice as a symbol of such an unusual cult, in that case,” Joan observed. “After all, in the legend, she could turn a man to stone with her gaze.”
“More than a symbol.” Vale paused meaningfully. “As I said, the cameo in the bracelet was considered the actual source of the priest’s power. The members believed that the only person who could control it was the one who was imbued with a natural talent for drawing the energy from the stone.”
A solemn silence fell on the gallery.
Tobias shattered the uneasy quiet with a humorless smile. “I trust that your interest in the Blue Medusa is purely scholarly in nature, Vale. I would not like to believe that a man of your education and experience of the world places any credence in the supposed mystical powers of an ancient cameo.”
Lavinia saw Joan frown and glance quickly at their host.
But Vale looked amused. “I assure you, March, I have no use for metaphysics, especially those of a rather unpleasant, long-dead cult. But it never ceases to amaze me how often seemingly intelligent, educated people do fall under the spell of old legends and strange beliefs.”
“And the Blue Medusa offers that enticement?” Tobias asked.
“To some, yes.” Vale walked to a nearby cabinet and removed the iron ring on his left hand. He fitted the small key to the lock and opened the door. “Take this piece of ancient Roman glass, for instance. It is said that men have died because of it.”
He reached inside and removed an intricately carved glass bowl. The object caught the light and glowed a dozen shades of fiery amber in his fingers. Lavinia was riveted. She moved closer to get a better look.
“It’s incredible,” she said. “Was it, too, found here in England?”
“No. I believe that it was brought here from Italy many years ago.”
Joan came to stand beside Lavinia. “Beautiful.”
Vale watched them both with an enigmatic smile.
Lavinia took a closer look at the large cup. Figures had been carved around the vessel in such a way that they stood out from the surface as though attempting to escape the bonds of the delicate net of glass that anchored them.
Lavinia recognized the scene that the artist had caught and frozen in the glass.
“Persephone fleeing Hades,” she whispered. “The Lord of the Underworld pursues her.”
The desperation on the face of the woman and the anguish and loss etched in the god’s features sent a shiver through her.
“It is called the Hades Cup, and some say that it is a dangerous object to own.” Vale smiled wryly. “Not that I believe in such nonsense. Nevertheless, I maintain that I do not actually own the thing. I am merely keeping it safe here in the club’s mu-seum.”
He closed and locked the cabinet door with the tiny ring key.
“I think we have all taken your point,” Tobias said. “Legends develop a strength of their own, and collectors are an odd lot.”
“Indeed.” Vale smiled. “They like nothing better than a good story attached to an antiquity. Some will kill to possess a rare object with a sufficiently compelling legend attached to it.”
Lavinia threw up her hands. “Wonderful. Yet another motive for murder. At this rate, half of London will soon be on our suspect list.”
Eighteen
TOBIAS SANK INTO THE CHAIR ACROSS FROM Crackenburne and reached for the bottle of brandy that sat on the table between them.
“Leg bothering you again today?” Crackenburne asked without looking up from his newspaper.
“It’s not the leg so much as the conversation I just had with a possible suspect.” Tobias tipped the bottle and poured. The clink of glass against glass brought to mind a fleeting image of the Hades Cup. “What can you tell me about Vale?”
Crackenburne hesitated and then slowly lowered the paper far enough to peer at Tobias over the top. “Wealthy. Widowed. Secretive. He’s the head of a very small, exclusive little club of collectors. Writes scholarly papers for the journals. Has a habit of disappearing for weeks at a time to dig up old Roman ruins in the country.”
“I know that much. I also know that he was a close friend of Fielding Dove.” Tobias took a swallow of the brandy and relaxed into the chair. “Which means that he probably was aware that Dove was the head of the Blue Chamber. Think Vale might have been involved in some of its activities?”
“Never heard anything to indicate that he was connected to that criminal organization.” Crackenburne folded his paper and put it aside. “Which is not to say that he wasn’t, of course. In his own way Vale is just as clever and possibly just as dangerous as Dove was in his time. But I think his interests lie elsewhere.”
“Antiquities.”
“Yes.”
“Do you think he would commit murder to obtain a very special Roman artifact associated with an ancient cult here in England?”
Crackenburne grew thoughtful. “I cannot say for certain. I’ve heard he is somewhat obsessive on the subject of such British-Roman relics. But I will give you my opinion, for what it’s worth.”
“And that is?”
“If Vale did commit murder for it, I very much doubt that you’d ever be able to trace the deed to him. He’s no fool. He would cover his tracks well.”
Tobias turned the brandy glass between his palms. “The murderer we’re after did leave something personal behind. His cravat.”
Crackenburne snorted. “Can’t see Vale being that careless.”
“Unless, of course, he knew that the damned neckcloth would lead us to a dead end. After all, it told us nothing except that Celeste Hudson was probably murdered by a gentleman rather than a poorly dressed footpad.”
Crackenburne shook his head with grave authority. “If Vale had taken pains to leave behind a false clue, you can be certain it would have led you to whoever he wished you to think was the killer. You just said the cravat led you to no one in particular.”
“It led me nowhere and therefore we must assume that Vale is probably not the killer.” Tobias smiled wryly. “The logic is somewhat convoluted, to say the least, but I am inclined to agree. In truth, I never placed too much hope in the possibility that his lordship was guilty. The entire affair is far too murky for such a convenient explanation.”
“Not Vale’s style at all.” Crackenburne picked up the brandy bottle and poured himself a glass. “But there is another reason why I think you can exclude him.”
“What is that?”
Crackenburne sipped brandy with a meditative air. “Can’t see Vale murdering a woman in cold blood. The man’s no saint, of course. I think it’s safe to say tha
t under certain conditions he could be quite dangerous. Not unlike you, to be blunt. But I do not believe that he would strangle a woman to death. Not for a bloody antiquity.”
Tobias recalled the reverential way in which Vale had cradled the Hades Cup in his hands. “Not even if he placed a very high value on that particular antiquity?”
“He’s a shrewd, clever player who generally gets what he wants in the end. But in this sort of situation, I’m quite certain that he would have found other means to his ends.” Crackenburne smiled slightly before taking another swallow of brandy. “Just as you would have done under similar circumstances.”
Tobias watched the flames on the hearth for a time, contemplating what Crackenburne had said.
“Any other news for me?” he asked after a while.
“I did come up with a couple of interesting rumors concerning Gunning and Northampton.”
Tobias cocked a brow. “Yes?”
Crackenburne paused for effect, clearly relishing his moment. “Word has it that the households of both gentlemen may have been burglarized at some point in the past several months.”
Tobias put down his glass with such force that it sounded as if it had cracked on the tabletop. “May have been burglarized?”
“There was no evidence of a housebreaker. No smashed windows or broken locks. Nor is there any way to know precisely when the objects disappeared. Some feel the owners, who are both in their dotage, may simply have misplaced the items in question.”
“What sort of items are we talking about?”
“In the case of Lord Gunning, a pair of diamond earrings that belonged to his late wife. Northampton’s household is missing a very fine pearl-and-emerald necklace that was supposed to have gone to his daughter.”
“Bloody hell. The lady was, indeed, a jewel thief. And I’ll wager her recently widowed husband is in the same line.”
“HOWARD, DO COME IN AND SIT DOWN.” LAVINIA put down the pen she had been using to make notes in the journal and motioned her visitor to a chair. “I believe there is some tea left in the pot. Allow me to pour you a cup.”
