“If I were interested in scandal, I should have shouted the rumors at the next rout party, not gone to the Runners.”
Miss Harper blushed. “I do not doubt your goodness, Mrs. Adler, but in such a matter, you must understand—”
“That you have a great deal to lose.” Lily sighed. “I know. And hope you will believe me when I promise that I’ve no intention of saying anything publicly. Not unless it is required of me at the trial, which I hope to God it will not be.” She made a face. “I should hate to be part of such a spectacle.”
“As should any lady,” Miss Harper agreed. “A clever mind likes an audience, but to speak at a public trial—!” She shuddered. “I hope it will not come to that for either of us.”
“Your uncle’s actions will come out in the trial, though. They must. Otherwise no jury will believe that Mr. Lacey had a cause for willful murder.”
“I know. But the next session of the assizes is not for six months, and that is enough—”
She broke off abruptly, but Lily recalled Miss Harper’s first failed engagement and understood. “That is enough time for your engagement to Mr. Kettering to be formally announced. You’ll not be able to marry, of course, until your year of mourning for your uncle has passed. But if the formal announcement is made, Mr. Kettering will not be able to cry off when the news comes out.”
Miss Harper looked away, but she nodded all the same. “Do you think me heartlessly mercenary, Mrs. Adler?”
“No.” Lily pitied the other woman. “I have never known what it is like to be penniless, nor to be dependent on a man who has done such terrible things. I cannot fault a woman who wishes to escape that fate.”
“So you know everything, then.” Miss Harper’s sigh was shaky enough to make her whole body tremble. “The war, the money … But you will say nothing?”
“I will say nothing. Life with your uncle has been filled with enough suffering, Isobel, and there is more yet to come when Mr. Lacey’s trial begins. I do not have it in me to add to it.”
Miss Harper said nothing, merely nodded and gathered herself together, standing. Lily, her heart aching with sympathy, stood also and showed her out.
But sympathy did not stop her mind from working, and there was something in Miss Harper’s performance that made her frown—for a performance it had been, at least at the beginning, when Miss Harper had wanted to find out how much Lily knew.
Lily rang for a servant, pacing the room thoughtfully until Anna appeared. “Excellent, you are just who I wanted to speak with,” she said without preamble when the maid appeared. “Would you say your cousin Jeremy knows most of the gossip about Mayfair families?”
It took Anna a moment to get over her surprise; clearly, the question was not one she had been expecting. “Jeremy, ma’am?” she asked. “In the general way of speaking, if he doesn’t know it, no one does.”
“Excellent.” Lily stopped pacing, but her thumbs still tapped together thoughtfully. “When will you see him next?”
“At services on Sunday.”
Lily nodded. “I need you to ask your cousin what he knows of the Kettering family.”
“Are you curious about anything in particular?”
“Their finances. And about the elder son, Christopher.” Lily fixed Anna with a pointed look. “And I hope I do not need to tell you to be discreet about asking.”
“Of course not, ma’am.” Anna started to say something else, hesitated, bit her lip, and finally said, very carefully, “I’ve never known you to take much interest in gossip, ma’am.”
“Only when I need to. And this time I think it might be important.”
Anna’s brows drew together. “Mrs. Adler, are you mixed up in something … unwise?”
Lily laughed shortly. “Most likely, Anna. But not the sort of unwise you’re thinking of.”
“I’m thinking, Mrs. Adler, that you’ve been acting odd of late. And there was that burglar who broke in here—with a pistol; I saw you searching for it that night—and you meeting secretly with the captain and that Miss Oswald. And that awful shopkeeper who said you stole something from him, and that man from Bow Street last evening …” Anna stopped abruptly, looking concerned that she had said too much. “I don’t mean to be impertinent, ma’am. Only I’m worried.”
Lily pursed her lips. “I’ve never been able to sneak much by you, have I, Anna?”
That made the maid grin. “No, ma’am. Not for years.”
“Well then. What would you say if I asked whether you thought I could solve a murder?”
Anna’s eyes grew wide. “I would say …” She swallowed. “I would say, ma’am, that if any lady of quality could, it’s you.”
Lily smiled faintly. “I hope that is true, Anna. And I hope I am simply overthinking things. But to be sure, I need to find out what Jeremy knows of the Ketterings. Can you do that?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Excellent.” Lily’s smile grew. “I shall even throw in an extra half day for you next month. But remember,” she cautioned. “Discretion.”
The maid curtsied. “Yes, Mrs. Adler. Always.”
CHAPTER 25
Though she did not want to mix in company, Lily was even less inclined to sit at home, where she knew she would feel as though someone were watching her. The Walters were holding a small evening party, and Margaret Harlowe and her husband, blissfully unaware of both murder and mystery, had offered to call for Lily in their carriage. It would do, she decided, for a distraction, and would hopefully be a chance put things back to normal between her and Serena.
Lily stretched as she emerged from her bath, trying to shake away the tension between her shoulders. “The gray silk tonight, Anna.” Wrapping the robe that Anna held out around herself, she went to her dressing table and began to brush out her hair. “But only if you had time to mend the tear in the petticoat. Otherwise, the lavender-and-gold will do.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the gray silk, ma’am. I looked and looked for that tear, but the petticoat was right as rain, far as I could see. Nothing ripped at all.”
Lily paused, hairbrush still half raised. “I found at least three inches of lace torn off.”
“I don’t mean to argue, ma’am, but you can see for yourself.” Anna held out the gown. “There’s nothing wrong with the petticoat.”
She was right. Lily stared, puzzled by her mistake and wondering why an undamaged petticoat left such a sinking feeling in her stomach. It meant something, but she couldn’t quite …
Lily sat up abruptly. “Anna, do you remember which reticule I carried that night?”
“The night of the Walters’ ball?” Anna didn’t ask why she wanted to know; she was far too used to the quick jumps Lily’s mind made. “The silver-and-black one, ma’am.”
“Fetch it for me. See if there is anything inside.”
Lily continued brushing her hair as her maid rummaged in the wardrobe. She didn’t want to draw any conclusions until—
“Well, if that isn’t the prettiest thing!”
Lily set down her brush and turned from the mirror. “What is it?”
“Fancy that, ma’am.” Anna held the piece of lace Lily had found next to the dead man’s body, a curious expression on her face. “It’s quite fine, but it didn’t come from your gown. Someone else must have suffered a tear. Lord, I don’t envy trying to mend that rip!”
“No, I am glad it was not my gown after all.” Lily fingered the delicate ruffle.
“Is everything all right, Mrs. Adler? That bit of trim isn’t important, is it?”
“No.” Lily frowned. Something was making her uneasy. “I cannot think why it would be …” She stared at the fabric in her hand, trying to catch the idea fluttering at the corner of her mind, but was interrupted by the chiming of the clock from downstairs. “Goodness, is that the time?” The Harlowes would be calling for her soon, and she still needed to dress. Lily tucked the matter of the lace in the back of her mind to examine when she had more tim
e.
She had just finished dressing, and Anna was setting the final ribbon in her hair, when Carstairs cleared his throat from the doorway. “Beg pardon, Mrs. Adler, but there are visitors here to see you.”
Lily turned in surprise. “Carstairs, you know perfectly well I am expected at the Walters’ at half eight.”
“Lady Walter sends her apologies.” He held out a folded card with Serena’s monogram on it. “The viscountess is unable to entertain this evening and begs her guests’ forgiveness for the late notice. And I thought that you would wish to see the two gentlemen.”
“Two gentlemen?” Lily frowned over her friend’s note. Serena was normally so energetic, but this was several bouts of ill health within a single week.
“Yes, ma’am. Captain Hartley and the gentleman from Bow Street.”
“Oh! I shall see them immediately.” Lily hurried downstairs, concern about Serena set aside. Jack and Mr. Page would not have called unless they had news, especially not together. Judging by the grim expressions that greeted her in the drawing room, it was not good. Too impatient for polite inquiries, Lily asked bluntly, “What happened?”
“Mrs. Adler, are you at liberty for the next two hours?” Mr. Page, normally so stoic, was twisting his hat between his hands.
Lily frowned at him, then at Jack. “I am, as a matter of fact. My plans for the evening were just a moment ago canceled. Why?”
Mr. Page hesitated, so Jack spoke up. “Mr. Page needs you to come to Newgate with him. He has asked me to provide my escort as well, as it is not a safe destination.”
“To the prison.” It was the last thing she expected. “What could I possibly do there?”
“Lacey has asked to see you.”
Lily shivered, remembering Mr. Lacey’s cruel expression as he cornered her on the street. “Did he say why?”
Mr. Page and Jack exchanged an unhappy look before the constable spoke. “You won’t be surprised to hear that Lacey denies any involvement in General Harper’s death. He says he does have information to share—but only with you.”
A sick, nervous feeling settled in the pit of Lily’s stomach. But both men were looking at her with such a mixture of worry and hopefulness that she could not bring herself to say no. Instead, she took a deep breath and lifted her chin. “Of course I shall come. If you will give me a moment to fetch a cloak?”
“You should wear one with a hood, and a veil as well.” Jack’s agitation made Lily feel a little better about her own nerves. “It would not do for anyone to see your face as we arrive.”
By the time they climbed into the waiting carriage—one without markings of any kind, which Mr. Page said Bow Street kept for the use of its officers—Lily was swathed from head to foot and totally unrecognizable. The thought gave her some comfort as they rattled through the twilight to Newgate Prison.
The carriage lamps cast a dim glow inside the carriage as they rode, enough to illuminate the expressions on the two men’s faces. Mr. Page looked every inch an officer of the law determined to do his duty, however unpleasant. Jack looked thoroughly dismayed and wasn’t bothering to hide it at all.
“You look as if you have a toothache,” Lily said, nudging him with her elbow in an attempt to lighten the grim mood, which was weighing on her already tightly wound nerves. “I thought military men were supposed to be fond of charging in, ready for action at a moment’s notice and so forth.”
“Perhaps you are thinking of the army,” Jack said with enough dignity to make Lily smile in spite of herself. “But in the navy, one does not make it so far as captain without learning when is the time to charge and when is the time to proceed with caution.”
“And what time would you say this is, Captain?” Mr. Page asked.
Jack glanced at Lily. “Most certainly time for caution. I’d not trust Lacey as far as I could throw him.”
The Bow Street officer grunted in agreement. It was strange, Lily thought, to watch them getting along after the undisguised animosity of their previous meetings. Both were men of action, accustomed to taking charge of whatever situation they found themselves in. And both, she reflected ruefully, had a great deal of pride. That had been obvious as much in their dealings with her as with each other. When they had set that aside, however, they had clearly discovered a great deal in common with one another—and, Lily realized with no little pride of her own, with her as well.
The thought bolstered her nerves as they entered the gates of the prison and alighted, though Lily was still content to stay hidden behind her veil and let Mr. Page handle the guard who came to meet them. She had never understood the men and women who visited the prison for entertainment. A feeling of misery hung in the air, and the smell of too many unwashed bodies crowded too close together made her feel faint. She could not feel sorry for men like Mr. Lacey—those imprisoned and awaiting trial for serious crimes. But many of the prisoners, she knew, were guilty of no more than small theft or petty fraud, and too many of them were no more than children. The thought made her shudder, and she was glad of the support when Jack offered her his arm.
As Mr. Page approached a surly-looking man in something that might once have been a uniform before it became covered in food stains and muck, Jack bent to murmur in her ear, “Lacey had money enough for the State Side; Mr. Page will negotiate a visit. Hopefully they will not charge too highly for the privilege.”
They did not have to wait long; either the turnkey was accommodating or Mr. Page had brought plenty of money. Within a few minutes he was guiding them through the ugly stone corridors, away from most of the noise, to the twelve private rooms of the State Side that those with money could purchase to keep themselves separate from the incarcerated masses. With a surly glance, the guard stopped at the door and informed them, “Only one visitor a’time.”
The two gentlemen exchanged uneasy glances and attempted to argue, but the guard was adamant. Lily took a deep breath. It was time to rally. “Then I shall go in alone, gentlemen, since it was I that Mr. Lacey wished to see.”
Predictably, they protested, but in the end they had to concede that she was right. “We’ll be right out here, and you call for us if anything seems amiss,” Mr. Page said, glowering at the unconcerned turnkey.
“I shall be perfectly well,” Lily said, as much to reassure herself as her escorts. “Hopefully he will say his piece quickly and be done.”
“Prisoner is shackled,” the guard offered with surprising helpfulness. “Stay t’ this side o’ the room. Won’t be able t’ touch ye. Bang twice on th’ door when ye want t’ be let out.” Lily nodded and thanked him, and the guard, apparently having used up his supply of words for the day, grunted in response and unlocked the cell.
Lily took a deep breath and went through, trying to ignore the anxious faces of her companions. The door shut with a dull crash, and the key turned in the lock once more.
The cell was long, narrow, and very dark; only the barest gleam of light struggled through the barred window. Close to her was a table with two candles, one flickering through its last moments, the other unlit. At the other end of the dim space was a narrow bed, and it was there that Mr. Lacey sat, waiting for her. Lily wondered if he had heard them arguing, for he said nothing. She took another deep breath, determined to get the business over with. “I have come, sir. What did you wish to tell me?”
He did not reply, merely waited with his head tipped to one side, still watching her. Lily shivered and, guessing what he wanted, laid back her hood and veil. “There. Now you can see my face, and you know it well enough. But it seems only fair that I should see yours. I dislike this darkness.”
Ignoring Mr. Lacey’s unsettling stare, Lily lit the larger candle, and its comforting glow filled the cell. Feeling more in command of the situation, she settled the candle where she wanted it, pulled out the single chair, and sat at the table. Only then did she turn back to Mr. Lacey, who had watched her in silence the whole time.
She stumbled to her feet and screamed.
Instantly there was a commotion on the other side of the door, men’s voices yelling, a loud thump, the sound of keys and argument. Lily heard none of it. After the first shock wore off, she was silent, staring at the figure on the bed. Mr. Lacey’s head listed to one side, his eyes wide and unseeing, the bloody hole in his chest staining the white linen of his shirt.
“Lily!”
“Mrs. Adler!”
Two heavy male bodies nearly crashed into her as the door finally swung open, and she felt Jack’s hands pull her toward him. Lily shook her head and, surprised by the calm tone of her voice, said, “He is dead. I am sorry I screamed; I was very startled.”
“What?” Neither of them had yet looked toward the far end of the room; they did now, and one of them cursed. Jack’s grip tightened on her arms, and for a moment Lily had the distinct impression that he wanted to drag her from the room. But he let her go a moment later, while Mr. Page yelled for assistance.
The guard provided no help at all, saying that he had only just come on duty and insisting that they leave so he could summon the warden. Ignoring him, Mr. Page leaned over the body.
“Pistol shot,” he pronounced decisively. “Whoever did it got very close.”
“Just like General Harper.” Lily came to peer over his shoulder.
For a moment Mr. Page looked surprised that she would come so near the body; then he nodded. “Very much the same.” He turned to the guard once more. “How could anyone let a visitor in with a weapon?”
“Wouldn’t ’ave.” The man looked nervous. “You need t’ leave. Warden must be fetched.”
“But they would be allowed to bring food.” Lily had caught sight of a basket under the table. “Friends and family may bring food.” Ignoring the dirtiness of the floor, she crouched down and dragged the basket toward the flickering candlelight. In it were two loaves of bread, several carrots and turnips, and a jug of something that smelled vile even with the stopper in it. Lily set them all aside, and even the turnkey fell silent to watch her search. At the bottom of the basket she found what she was looking for: a slim, elegant pistol, wrapped in a man’s coat that had a hole burnt through its layers. She pulled it out, and Mr. Page let out a low whistle.
The Body in the Garden Page 28
