by Amanda Quick
“Expensive and very fashionable.” Joan’s expression brightened with understanding. “Of course. Ned told you that the woman was dressed in an old gown and you reasoned that the killer’s boots should have matched the poor quality of the rest of the clothes.”
“Not exactly. What struck me was that a male killer who wore an old, unfashionable gown to hide his gender would likely not invest in a pair of very expensive kid half boots. Indeed, when I saw the murderer in Beaumont Castle that night, he was wearing plain, sturdy leather shoes. Just the sort one would expect a housemaid to possess.”
“The sort of footwear that a man could run in, should the need arise,” Tobias added dryly.
“Very clever of you,” Joan said.
“Then I noticed that Aspasia’s hair was dressed in a profusion of curls and ringlets,” Lavinia continued. “It reminded me that Sweet Ned had also mentioned that his employer’s blond wig had been done in a very simple style with a knot at the back. It suddenly made sense that someone who was not an expert hairdresser would select just such a plain design for a wig meant to be a disguise.”
“Very well,” Joan said. “That explains the impulse to stop by her house on your way home. After all, Aspasia seemed to be safely occupied in shopping.”
Lavinia made a face. “Unfortunately, she had set a pair of street lads to watch me. When they saw me head toward the street where she lived, they ran back and warned her that I was on my way to her address. She always made sure her little spies knew where to find her. She quickly followed me on foot. She saw me talk to the old man in the park and then she saw me disappear down the alley behind Number Seventeen.”
Tobias folded his arms. “At that point, Aspasia, too, acted on impulse. She realized that if Lavinia was sneaking into her house it meant that she herself was now a suspect. She understood at once that she had to get rid of Lavinia and leave the country immediately.”
“So she seized the nearest hostage and tried to use him to take me captive,” Lavinia said. “But instead of an aged, infirm old man, she chose a retired professional killer.”
“What was the Memento-Mori Man doing in the park in front of her house?” Joan asked.
“Obviously he was waiting for her to return home.” Tobias reached into his pocket and removed the death's-head ring he had found at the top of the staircase in Aspasia’s town house. “I believe that he went there to kill her. He was no doubt the one who had the message delivered to the housekeeper inducing her to leave the house for the afternoon.”
“He was waiting for his quarry,” Vale said. “But Lavinia showed up first.”
Tobias eyed Lavinia. “She no doubt complicated matters for him but he seemed quite tolerant about the change in his plans. His ability to adjust his strategy on the spur of the moment was no doubt one of the reasons for his professional success years ago.”
“Where do you think he is now?” Joan asked.
“On his way back to his cottage by the sea, no doubt,” Lavinia said quietly. “I suspect that he only came out of retirement to avenge the deaths of his apprentices.”
“At least that is what he would have us believe,” Tobias growled. “Personally, I would not put any credence in anything he told you, Lavinia.”
She looked at him. “He was an old man, Tobias. And unarmed, except for his walking stick. You could have chased after him and shot him dead yesterday. Why did you let him go?”
Tobias clasped his hands behind his back and gazed out the window into the park. “I think he allowed himself to be taken hostage because he knew you were in that house and Aspasia intended to murder you. His goal was to protect you. By dispatching her when he did, he may well have saved your life. I owed him something for that.”
There was a short silence while they all contemplated the admission.
After a while, Lavinia cleared her throat. “There was one other reason why I gave in to impulse yesterday and went to Aspasia’s house.”
They all waited.
“I was looking for any excuse to connect her to the murders,” Lavinia said. “I never did like that woman.”
The envelope was on the step in front of Number 7 when Tobias arrived for breakfast the next morning. A prickle of awareness tingled between his shoulders when he stooped to pick it up.
He straightened swiftly and turned, searching the street. The only person about other than himself was an elderly gardener industriously clipping a hedge at the corner. The man’s face was shielded by a broad-brimmed hat. If he noticed Tobias’s scrutiny, he gave no sign.
Tobias watched him for a while before he examined the design imprinted in the blob of black wax that sealed the letter. He smiled to himself. When he looked up again, the gardener had disappeared.
He opened the door and stepped inside the front hall.
“There you are, Mr. March.” Mrs. Chilton came toward him, wiping her hands on her apron. “I thought I heard someone on the step. You’re just in time for breakfast.”
“I know. A stunning surprise, is it not?”
She rolled her eyes and waved him off toward the breakfast room. He went down the hall, envelope in hand, and found Lavinia and Emeline at the table in the sunny little chamber.
“Good morning, sir,” Emeline said cheerfully. “What have you got there?”
“A letter that I found just now on your front step.”
Lavinia lowered her newspaper and eyed the envelope curiously. “On the step, you say? I wonder who left it there?”
“Why don’t you open it and solve the mystery.” Tobias took a chair and handed the package to her.
She glanced at it with absent curiosity and then uttered a tiny yelp when she saw the death's-head imprinted in the black wax.
“The Memento-Mori Man must have left it,” she told Emeline while she unfolded the letter. “I wonder what on earth he—” She broke off when a bank draft fell onto the table. “Goodness. A thousand pounds.”
“Read the letter,” Emeline said, brimming with excitement. “Hurry, please, I cannot stand the suspense.”
Tobias poured coffee for himself. “Something tells me we have just been paid our fee for the case of the Memento-Mori Man.”
Lavinia studied the elegant handwriting and read the letter aloud.
My Dear Mrs. Lake and Mr. March:
I trust the enclosed draft will cover the fees and expenses for your services in this recent affair. I apologize for the inconvenience and the danger to you both.
I am aware that you likely have some lingering questions. I shall attempt to answer them. It is the least I can do under the circumstances.
You no doubt wonder why I did not take action against Aspasia Gray three years ago. The sad fact is that I never suspected her of murder. Indeed, I accepted the verdict of suicide in part because I knew that it had satisfied you, Mr. March. I was inclined to trust your judgment in the matter.
But there were two other reasons why I was willing to accept that Zachary had put the pistol to his own head. The first was that I knew him very well, having raised him from the age of eight, and I was aware that he possessed the sort of romantical, melodramatic temperament that is sometimes associated with those who take their own lives.
The second reason I accepted it—and I pray you will forgive me, Mrs. Lake—was that at the time it simply never occurred to me that a lady would take up the profession in which I had trained my apprentices, let alone manage to take one of them by surprise. I knew nothing of Mrs. Gray’s partnership with Zachary, of course.
A year ago another of my apprentices prepared to take up the career for which he had been trained. He had grown to adulthood idolizing his brother, and he wanted nothing more than to prove that he was as bold and daring and professional as Zachary.
Shortly after he arrived in London, he went to Zachary’s old lodgings and found a letter in the hidden wall safe. In the course of their apprenticeship, I impressed upon all of my boys the importance of maintaining two safes. Anyone who conducts
a search is likely to be satisfied with the discovery of a single secret hiding place.
“One of my many mistakes three years ago.” Tobias slathered currant jam on a slice of toast. “I found the first safe because Aspasia had made certain that I would do so. But obviously even she did not know about the second safe.”
In his letter to Pierce, Zachary made it clear that he had taken Aspasia Gray not only as his lover but also as his partner. It was evident that he was passionately in love with her, but his training ran deep. As a precaution against her betrayal, he implicated her in the letter. He no doubt intended to send it if he ever had cause to become suspicious of her. But he delayed too long and the letter was never mailed.
When Pierce found the letter in the second safe, he saw only the financial opportunities. When Mrs. Gray returned to London he made plans to blackmail her.
He also sent a note to me, informing me of his discovery. Unfortunately, I was traveling at the time and therefore was not at home when the letter arrived. When I finally received it, I understood the danger and made arrangements to come to London at once. But as you know, I was too late to save Pierce.
I arrived at his lodgings shortly after you and your young friends went in through the back door and found the body, Mr. March. I watched you from across the street when you came out, and I knew at once that my worst fears had been confirmed.
With two apprentices dead after a connection to Mrs. Gray, I no longer had any doubts about the identity of their killer. I went to see her yesterday afternoon and you know the rest.
I regret to say that neither Zachary nor Pierce proved to be well-suited to the business. Zachary developed an unfortunate taste for the darker passions aroused in the course of the hunt and lost sight of the importance of selecting only quarry that deserved to be hunted.
For his part, Pierce was interested primarily in the financial aspects of the business and, while I am happy to say that his early selections were more in keeping with the firm’s goals, I fear it was only a matter of time before he, too, lost sight of the higher purpose for which he had been trained.
But regardless of the outcome, both young men had been my apprentices and I had a duty to avenge them. It is done.
There is nothing left to be said. I shall fade back into my retirement and trouble you no more.
Oh, one more thing: Mrs. Lake, I stopped at the herbalist’s shop in Wren Street as you suggested and was given a very fine tonic. I have every expectation of outliving my doctor. Perhaps I still have time for a few more dreams.
Yours truly,
M.
“Well.” Lavinia refolded the letter very slowly. “I trust that is the last we will hear of the Memento-Mori Man. He didn’t tie up all the loose ends, though, did he? We will never be able to prove that Lady Ferring and her friends Mrs. Stockard and Lady Huxford were among Pierce’s clients, but I cannot say I am entirely sorry about that. One cannot help but admire their fortitude and determination to achieve justice in their own way when it was denied to them by the world, can one?”
“The names of Pierce’s clients are not the only lingering questions the Memento-Mori Man failed to answer, so far as I am concerned,” Tobias said around a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “I’ve still got two more.”
Emeline looked at him. “What are they, sir?”
“First, I’d give a great deal to know whether or not he actually is retired or if that was just a tale he told us to discourage us from searching for him.”
Emeline shuddered. “We can only hope that he is no longer actively plying his trade.”
Lavinia frowned at Tobias. “What is your other question?”
Tobias swallowed the eggs and reached for his coffee. “We know he obtained two apprentices from Mother Maud, but who is to say that he did not take on others? I would very much like to know how many apprentices he trained in all.”
Chapter 32
Three days later they walked through the large park to the remote, overgrown area where Tobias had long ago established his private retreat. They spread a blanket on the grass in front of the old Gothic ruin and unpacked the picnic lunch Mrs. Chilton had prepared. Sunlight slanted, warm and dappled, through the leaves of the trees.
Tobias examined the array of small savory pies, pickled vegetables, cold chicken, hard-cooked eggs, cheeses, and breads as he opened the bottle of claret. “Mrs. Chilton has outdone herself.”
“She always does where you are concerned.” Lavinia reached into the basket and removed the package wrapped in paper and string and handed it to him. “This is for you. To celebrate the conclusion of the Memento-Mori Man affair.”
He looked at the package with a decidedly bemused expression. It occurred to her that, although he had given her several gifts, this was the first one she had presented to him.
“Thank you,” he said.
He took the package from her hand and opened it with such exquisite care that she suddenly wished she had found something far grander and more expensive to give to him.
But when he got rid of the paper and string and held the lamp in his hands, the pleasure she saw in his eyes told her that she had made the right choice.
He examined the intricately worked relief. “Alexander cutting the Gordian knot.”
“I thought of you immediately when I saw it in the shop window.”
He lowered the lamp and looked at her. “I shall treasure this, my sweet.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
He poured claret into two glasses and handed one to her. She cut two slices of one of the pies and arranged them on the plates together with some pickled vegetables, chicken, and eggs.
They ate and talked for a time. When the meal was finished, Tobias leaned back on his elbows and drew up one knee. He looked at her.
“It would seem that love is in the very air these days,” he said a little too smoothly. “Anthony has made it clear that he and Emeline will soon announce their engagement.”
“It was inevitable. They are made for each other.”
Tobias cleared his throat. “It is also very apparent that Dominic and Priscilla are enthralled with each other.”
“Indeed,” she murmured. “Priscilla’s mama is quite pleased. Dominic has charmed her.”
“Yes, well, I have it on good authority that marriage involves great risks for a woman.”
“Mmm.”
He hesitated. “Is that how you see it?”
She stilled in the act of replacing an empty plate in the picnic basket. For some reason it was suddenly very difficult to order her thoughts. Her pulse started to race madly.
“It involves risks for a man as well,” she said cautiously.
“Perhaps, but not quite the same sorts of risks.”
“No, I suppose not.”
There was a short silence.
Tobias cleared his throat. “I have been given the impression lately that our current arrangement may not set the best example for Emeline and Anthony.”
“If they choose to disapprove, that is their problem, not ours.”
“Well, that is certainly one way of looking at the matter.” Tobias drummed his fingers on the blanket. “Anthony mentioned the other day that if you and I shared Number Seven Claremont Lane, he and Emeline could move into my house.”
“Tobias, if you are hinting that we should get married merely for the convenience of Anthony and Emeline, I must tell you—”
“No.” His jaw tightened and his eyes heated. “I am suggesting that we get married for my sake. I had intended to wait until the ship in which I have an investment returns, but I cannot put this off any longer.”
She stared at him, feeling trapped and breathless. She had spent the past few weeks wondering what she would do if he asked her, and now the moment was upon her.
She licked her dry lips and swallowed. “Oh.”
“I do not have a great deal to offer you, but I am not entirely destitute. In addition to the house that I own, I have some other, small
er investments that I have made over the years. The private-inquiry business seems to be getting somewhat more reliable of late, possibly because I now have you for a partner. I cannot give you diamonds and private carriages, but we will not starve nor will you lack for a roof over your head.”
“I see.”
“I love you, Lavinia.” He sat up slowly and reached for her hand. “I have come to dread going home to my lonely bed. I want to spend my nights with you. I want to sit by the fire with you on cold winter evenings and read by the light of my new lamp. When I am unable to sleep at three in the morning because I cannot stop thinking about a case, I want to be able to wake you so that we can talk about it.”
“Tobias.”
“I am asking you to take the risk of marrying me, my love. I swear, I will do everything in my power to ensure that you never regret it.”
She twined her fingers tightly with his. “Tobias, you misunderstand. I think everyone misunderstands. Yes, marriage is a risk for a woman, but I do not fear marriage to you. Rather, I am afraid that you are the one who would regret such a close and unbreakable alliance.”
“How can you even suggest that?”
“I am so very different from your beloved Ann. From all accounts she was an angel, good and kind and sweet-tempered. I cannot possibly take her place.”
His hands enclosed hers. “Heed me well. I loved Ann, but she has been gone a long time. I have changed in the years without her. If she had lived we would no doubt have changed together, but that was not to be. I am now a different man in some ways. I seek a different kind of love. I am hoping with all my heart that you can say the same after all these years without your beloved poet husband.”
Joy flowed through her, pure and clean and certain as the sun that warmed them.
“Yes. Oh, yes, my love.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth. “And, yes, life has changed me also. Tobias, I must tell you that until I met you, I never dared to dream that love could be this rich and deep and wonderful.”
He smiled and slowly, deliberately, pulled her into his arms. She was intensely aware of the strength in his hands and the certainty in his eyes. The summer day was as perfect and clear and dazzling as an exotic gem lit by fire.
