Not that her help was much needed. Lady Walter, in the midst of her new foray into the world of Tory politics, had become a capable hostess—and what she might miss, her housekeeper would not. Instead, Lily played a breathless game of hide-and-go-seek with John and Francis, who were five and three, respectively, and who possessed more energy than should have been possible in such small bodies. Toward the end of the game, Serena returned and watched fondly from the door of the family parlor.
“That is quite enough for today, my darlings; you will wear Mrs. Adler out.” She gathered them to her with a laugh. “Mama has guests arriving, so you must go back to the nursery and play with nanny.” This prompted a chorus of complaints, but Serena swiftly silenced them with the promise of a surprise waiting upstairs.
“What is their surprise?” Lily asked, dusting off her gown as John and Francis raced out of the room with excited yelps.
“Gingerbread,” Serena said. “I know I spoil them, but I cannot help myself.”
“They are such dears; no one could blame you for it.”
Serena gave her friend a sympathetic look. “There is still time for you to have your own.”
“Perhaps,” Lily said thoughtfully. Without Freddy by her side, the thought of children had receded from her mind. At first she had mourned the loss. Now she was unsure she wanted that life at all. But she didn’t know how to explain that to Serena, who was so happy in her own family. “For now, I quite enjoy yours. All of the fun and none of the responsibility.” A loud crash echoed from upstairs. “You see?”
“Oh dear.” Serena sighed as Francis’s wail followed the crash. “If he’s making that much noise, he’s either perfectly fine or dying. I should go see which. Will you be all right by yourself for a few minutes?”
“Perfectly. Off with you.”
Lily shooed her friend out and looked around the room for some way to occupy herself. There were plenty of books, and one of that morning’s papers was thrown carelessly over the back of a chair. But she was drawn back to the open door, where, across the hall, she could see Lord Walter’s study.
She wanted to let things alone for the day, but with Serena upstairs and the servants busy with their preparations, it was unlikely anyone would notice where she went for at least a few minutes. And if she was going to snoop, better to do it when Lord Walter was out of town. The opportunity was too good to let pass.
Before she could persuade herself out of it, Lily slipped out of the drawing room and into the study.
She eased the door shut behind her and surveyed the room. It was a beautiful, heavily masculine space, with crowded bookshelves taking up most of the walls and a large desk presiding at one end. In front of the fireplace, two chairs faced each other at a comfortable distance, a table with several decanters to one side. Most of the volumes, Lily could see as she glanced at the shelves, showed signs of wear—Lord Walter was not the sort of man to collect books for show.
With its owner gone from town, the whole room was dim and chill, the fire unlit and most of the curtains drawn. That was good, Lily thought. If no one was bothering with the fire or the drapes for a few days, she was less likely to be interrupted.
She intended to begin her search at the desk, but a stack of papers tucked under one of the chairs caught her eye. Whatever had been left there was likely what Lord Walter had been dealing with immediately before he left town. That was where she would look first.
Lily paged through the sheets carefully, preserving the order so that everything could be left as she had found it. The first letter was from Lord Walter’s estate manager, detailing concerns about the roofs of several tenants’ homes in light of the heavy spring rains. Perhaps that was what had taken him so abruptly from town? Lily couldn’t fault him for that—and surely a man who took such care of his dependents couldn’t be involved in anything worthy of blackmail?
That was wishful thinking, Lily knew, though she held on to the thought through several more pages of estate matters. But another letter, tucked between the pages of last autumn’s agricultural yields, made her thoughts grim again.
Sir, my most humble apologies for the disturbance you have suffered—I can only beg your indulgence & state with conviction that it happened without my knowledge or my approval. I made clear to every constable under my purview that the case was to be dropped, exactly as we discussed. I can assure you that Mr. Page has been reprimanded & that I have made it clear to him what he risks should he approach you—or any of your servants or, Heaven forbid, Lady Walter—again.
Yr. obedient &ct,
Philip Neve, Presiding Magistrate
Great Marlborough-street Magistrate Court.
Lily, faced with the disheartening reminder of Lord Walter’s bribe to the magistrate, had to read the letter through twice before the full meaning of it sunk in: Mr. Page, the Bow Street constable, had approached Lord Walter in what she had to assume was an attempt to continue investigating. He had been so unimpressed—so scornful—that day in his office when she had told him Mr. Neve had been bribed. But apparently he had listened enough, or cared enough, to try a second time.
Not that it amounted to much, it seemed. Lord Walter must have gone straight to Mr. Neve, who had promptly ended the whole thing once again. And if Bow Street persisted in taking no action, then solving the murder still fell to her. Jaw set with determination, Lily set Mr. Neve’s letter aside and scanned the next paper.
G.C. & I thought it best you know before your meeting with Lord C.—he has expressed his reservations regarding various contracts you approved. You have G.C.’s backing—but Lord C. has a great deal of influence & no love for our politics, even in this time of war—though of course we all unite in abhorring the Bonapartist inclinations of S. Whitbread et al. Perhaps a reminder of that will encourage Lord C. to curb his disapproval regarding the contracts? Yrs, A. Harlowe.
It was only half a page, the sort of thing dashed off by a man in a hurry, and Lily scowled at its lack of specific information. Andrew Harlowe, as secretary to a member of the House of Lords, was well known in political circles, and he and his employer often worked closely with George Canning—G.C., certainly—though Lily suspected Margaret’s husband was becoming more Whiggish in his politics than the conservative Tory leader might approve of. Lord C. was likely Lord Castlereagh, the foreign secretary and Canning’s rival. As foreign secretary, Lord Castlereagh did not have much reason to look into contracts concerning shipments to British soldiers, which Jack’s informant at Lacey and West had said were Lord Walter’s purview. So was Castlereagh’s disapproval a simple matter of political jockeying? Or was Lord Walter involved in something more sinister that the minister has uncovered? Something worthy of blackmail?
Lily sat back on her heels, frowning in thought. From Miss Oswald’s explanation of the options open to a shipping agent, and Jack’s additional military insight, it seemed clear that whatever treason their murderer was involved in, it was too small in scale to truly disrupt the war effort. That was good for the conspirators—they were less likely to get caught. It also meant the aim had to be profit rather than politics. And there had never been any indication, after all, that the Walters lacked for money.
Lily’s thoughts felt lighter as she put Andrew Harlowe’s letter back among the other papers. It was not as thick a stack as it had first appeared; underneath was a volume of The Mysteries of Udolpho, and Lily couldn’t help smiling, picturing the serious, conservative John Walter indulging in an evening of sensational novel reading. She was about to set the whole pile back when an edge of paper, peeking out from between the book’s pages, caught her eye.
She hesitated only briefly before letting the volume fall open, then drew in an unhappy breath as she scanned the paper. It was undated and ripped in half, but the content was clear enough—a gentleman’s vowels in the value of five hundred pounds, owed to a Mr. Benjamin King, the sort of marker a man would give to a moneylender or in promise of payment on a gambling debt. The bottom half, with
the signature of the man owing, was torn away. But across the top was scrawled a note that the debt had been paid in full by Lord John Walter, signed by both parties.
Lily tucked the promissory note back in the book, feeling grim as she replaced it, along with the rest of the papers, back under the chair before rising and hurrying back toward the door. Her mind was racing, but she didn’t have time to think through the implications of what she had read before she was distracted by the sound of voices on the other side of the door. She hesitated, then pressed her ear against the wood.
“… word that his lordship is expected back this evening.” Lily recognized the voice as belonging to Serena’s housekeeper, standing just on the other side of the door. “His study will need to be aired and the fire laid as soon as her ladyship’s guests …”
Lily didn’t stay to hear anymore, glancing swiftly around the room as she slid away from the door. Her eyes landed on a curtain that was half pulled back, revealing a door she hoped would lead onto the terrace. Moving as silently as possible, she eased the door open and slipped outside.
She was just in time. She had barely shut the door and taken a deep breath before a voice called out to her.
“Lily!” It was Margaret Harlowe, just coming out onto the terrace, arm in arm with Isobel Harper. “Goodness, what are you doing snooping about?” Lily stared at her, unable to come up with a quick reply, and Margaret laughed. “Only my joke, dear. Did you come out to enjoy the fresh air after all that rain and mizzle? Sadly, there aren’t many blooms to see in the gardens yet, but they are always worth looking at, don’t you agree?”
“Serena’s gardener is truly a maestro,” Lily managed at last, still off-kilter and distracted by what she had read in Lord Walter’s papers.
“Would that she could find as competent a nursemaid,” Margaret said with a pitying look. She and her husband had two children as well, both girls, and employed a small army of servants to mind them. Margaret was a careful parent, and firm in her insistence that her daughters be well educated. But neither she nor Mr. Harlowe had any intention of curbing their social lives in service of their domestic concerns. “She is occupied with some minor catastrophe in the nursery, it seems. Again. Isobel said she had never seen the gardens. Shall we make it a party of three while we wait for the others?” She frowned at the sky. “Or do you think it will rain?”
“Perhaps you would show us around?” Miss Harper asked. Her voice was quiet and polite, but there was something too intense in her gaze, and it made Lily uncomfortable. Perhaps the other woman had grown awkward in her conversation in the last few years, she thought, trying to be generous. After all, Margaret had said Miss Harper hadn’t been seen much since she was jilted and was now trying to be more friendly and approachable than she had been in their schoolgirl days. Lily could certainly understand feeling out of place—her return to London had left her feeling quite adrift herself, and unlike Isobel Harper, she had several close friendships, as well as her growing bond with Jack and Miss Oswald, to buffer her against discomfort. “Unless,” Miss Harper continued, her quiet voice cutting into Lily’s thoughts, “you would rather not. After coming so close to the …” She hesitated. “After the incident the other night, I could understand you wanting to stay far away from where it happened.”
Margaret shuddered. “Goodness, I’d not thought of that.”
Lily had to force a smile, suddenly uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation. “As far as I know, I left the terrace before anything untoward happened,” she said, as lightly as possible. “I’m afraid I should have no idea if we were near where it happened or not.” The first statement was not strictly a lie, but the second certainly was, and she hurried on, wanting to change the subject. “Besides which, I think Margaret is right; it looks as if the rain will be upon us again at any moment.”
Margaret glanced at the sky and sighed. “What a bother. I had hoped the sunshine would last more than a few hours. No matter, though.” She smiled as she turned their party back toward the house. “Did I tell you, Mr. Harlowe and I have begun the search for a governess? Kitty is nearly at that age, though how that happened, I simply cannot fathom …”
Lily followed the two of them inside. But she couldn’t help glancing back at the gardens as they went, until she noticed Miss Harper looking at her curiously. Summoning a smile, Lily turned her eyes resolutely toward the house and joined in Margaret’s chatter, trying to push thoughts of murder and political secrets from her mind.
* * *
The former students of Miss Tattersy’s Seminary for Young Ladies had grown into a variety of situations—some of them young matrons, one companion to a wealthy aunt, others settled into a life of either content or resigned spinsterhood.
After the first murmurs of sympathy, no one showed any inclination to dwell on the subject of Freddy’s death, for which Lily was grateful, though one newly married young woman avoided her company, as if widowhood might be catching. Lily held back both prickling tears and sharp words, choosing not to be offended, and settled instead into friendly conversation with Margaret and the former Mary Forsythe, who showed no embarrassment over her unfashionable marriage and spoke amusingly of her husband and three children.
All in all, it was a pleasant and entertaining afternoon, and Lily enjoyed none of it. Her thoughts kept returning to her discoveries in Lord Walter’s study. Though she did not want to think it, things still looked grim for her friend’s husband.
At last the clock chimed four, and the guests began to take their leave. Lily hung back a little, wanting to leave alone so she could finally think through what she had learned from Lord Walter’s papers. Unfortunately, she said her goodbyes at the same time as Isobel Harper, who politely offered “to take Mrs. Adler in her carriage wherever she might need to go.”
“How kind of you, Isobel!” Serena beamed with delight. “Of course I should have been happy to have our carriage brought around, but that is ever so much easier.”
Lily, exhausted from making polite conversation when her mind was in such a grim turmoil, cursed silently and briefly considered refusing the offer. But declining would have seemed odd, so, with a smile and gritted teeth, she accepted a place in Miss Harper’s vehicle.
“Where can I take you, Mrs. Adler?”
Lily, still distracted, gave her direction without attending. She let the groom assist her into the carriage as Miss Harper instructed her driver, “Half Moon Street, please, Arthur, and then to Mrs. West’s house in Hans Town.” The carriage seats were plushly padded, and Lily sank back onto hers with a sigh.
“Are you well, Mrs. Adler?” Miss Harper looked concerned.
Lily gave herself a quick mental shake. “Perfectly, thank you, only a little tired. I’m not yet accustomed to the busyness of town life.”
“It must be a change from Hertfordshire.” Miss Harper nodded sympathetically. “What are you finding to fill your time?”
“Oh, any number of things.” Lily wondered what the quiet, proper Miss Harper would say if she knew the woman sitting across from her was investigating a murder. The thought nearly made her smile. To change the subject, she asked, “Did I hear you say you were visiting Hans Town?”
Miss Harper blushed. “You are thinking it an unfashionable neighborhood, perhaps? But my mother’s cousin, who was my godfather, lived on Hans Place. He died several years ago, but my godmother lives there still.”
“How good of you to visit her. I’m sure your duties as mistress of your uncle’s home keep you so busy that it is difficult to find the time.”
She meant the comment sincerely and was surprised at the sharp look she received in response, as though Miss Harper suspected her of sarcasm. A moment later, though, Miss Harper smiled and said conspiratorially, “My brother has mentioned your name several times in the last week, Mrs. Adler. I think he must have been quite taken with you the other night.”
Lily’s jaw clenched, but she settled for saying, as calmly as possible, “I am surprise
d to hear it. We did not speak long.”
“I’m sure you could make an impression during any length of conversation, Mrs. Adler.” There was something dry about Miss Harper’s voice, and Lily wondered what, exactly, Mr. Harper had been saying. How much would a brother be willing to confide in his sister? As an only child, Lily had no basis for comparison, though she had never suspected Isobel and Reggie of being particularly close.
“You are kind to say so,” Lily replied at last, hoping it was the right thing to say. Conversation in London society often went much deeper than what was spoken aloud, and the subtlety was more than she had energy for that afternoon.
She was grateful that the ride did not last much longer. When the carriage pulled to a halt in front of number thirteen, Lily thanked Miss Harper, allowed the groom to hand her down, and then paused, glancing around.
Ever since her unsettling discoveries, she had been on edge, and the feeling now grew stronger. Lily glanced around, trying not to feel nervous. Miss Harper’s carriage was moving off. A young boy was scrubbing the muddy front stairs while Mrs. Carstairs kept an eagle eye on him through the open door. Two workmen cursed amiably as they repaired a window on the next house over. Everything was as it should be. There was no reason for the prickle between her shoulder blades, yet she could not shake it.
The boy was blocking the front door, so Lily changed course and turned toward the side of the house, where the narrow gap between buildings passed the side door and opened into the postage-stamp garden. Still preoccupied, she didn’t notice the shadow that stuck out from beyond the wall.
Someone large struck her, knocking her to the ground.
The Body in the Garden Page 14
