The guard shook his head. “No one woulda been allowed in wiv that.”
“Hence the food,” Lily pointed out. “And, I imagine, a large bribe to prevent the basket being searched too thoroughly.”
“But why leave it here?” Jack crouched down next to her.
“Nowhere to conceal it.” Lily held out a hand so he could help her to her feet. “The guard would have been suspicious if the food were not left behind. So there was no choice but to leave the pistol as well.”
“The coat would have muffled the shot somewhat, but not overmuch,” Jack said, glancing at Mr. Lacey. “Anyone in the corridor would have heard it.”
The Bow Street officer nodded, his expression grim as he dusted off his hands and stood. “So several bribes, most likely.”
“Is there any way to discover who was on duty earlier?” Lily asked.
He grimaced. “I can ask. But there aren’t always records of such things, and if more than one guard was bribed … well, none of them will be much inclined to talk. It isn’t as if the police have authority over a prison.” He took the bundle from her and turned the pistol over, then abruptly moved closer to the candle to inspect it. Lily and Jack exchanged a puzzled glance as Mr. Page held out the weapon. “Do you recognize it, Mrs. Adler?”
“In fact I do.” Lily could not keep the surprise from her voice as she pointed to the crest stamped on the underside of the barrel. “I last saw it in a drawer of General Harper’s desk. And it was not there after he was shot.”
Mr. Page nodded, his face grim. “Well, we know what Mr. Lacey wanted to tell you.”
Lily shivered. “There is a third conspirator in this business. And whoever it is, he has silenced the two men who could name him.”
* * *
Even though she had been the one to discover Hyrum Lacey’s body, Lily found herself set aside and sent back home while Jack went with Mr. Page to give evidence to a Bow Street magistrate. She understood why, but it irked her to be out of the action, without any way of knowing what was being done. Worse, it left her feeling vulnerable once more. With Mr. Lacey behind bars, she had felt free from the memory of that figure standing over her bed, pistol drawn and ready to fire. But with Lacey himself murdered, how could she feel safe?
A restless night left her with the continued sense that she was missing something important. It was not until she had spent half an hour pacing around her sitting room that Lily remembered the scrap of lace on her dressing table.
She spent several minutes turning it over in her hand. If there had been a lady in the garden that night, someone other than her … Clenching the lace in her fist, Lily went to her writing desk, intending to send a note to Mr. Page.
Or perhaps it was nothing. Lily set aside her pen, frowning. The person who had attacked her outside her home had certainly been male, perhaps someone else from Lacey and West, or a man from the general’s army days. There was nothing definite to say a woman was involved. The bit of trim could have been torn from one of Serena’s dresses days before the party. It might have nothing to do with Mr. Finch’s death at all.
That, at least, she could learn without much trouble and with the added benefit of a little morning exercise. Ringing for Anna and her pelisse, Lily set out toward the Walters’ town house.
Only to find, when she arrived, that the household was in a frenzy of packing, the servants dashing up and down the stairs and a number of trunks already stacked and waiting. The poor butler, when he met her in the hall, looked as harried as she had ever seen him—though for him that meant merely the addition of a few tight lines around his mouth and an air of resignation added to his normally stoic expression.
“Oh dear.” Lily eyed the controlled chaos behind him. “I don’t suppose Lady Walter has a moment to spare?”
Reston bowed. “She asks that you come up to her rooms, Mrs. Adler, if you would be so good. I’m afraid that the downstairs parlors—” The lines around his mouth tightened a little more, and his sigh was one of deep forbearance. “As you see, we are in a bit of disarray.”
“Of course.” Anna already having gone to the kitchens to wait, Lily followed Reston up to the second floor. There she found Serena still in bed, propped up amid an ocean of pillows, wearing a peevish expression.
“Lily, is this not the most vexing thing in the world?” the viscountess exclaimed as soon as she caught sight of her friend. “That dreadful man”—she spared a glare for Reston—“would not even allow me downstairs to sit with you! Lord Walter insists I remain here, and of course none of the staff will disobey, no matter how I protest. It is too ridiculous!” She frowned thunderously at the butler, who bowed and withdrew, seemingly unperturbed by his mistress’s ire.
“Serena, what happened?” Lily perched on the edge of the bed. “Are you unwell?”
Serena sighed gustily. “I have told them all I feel perfectly well, but you know Lord Walter.”
Serena’s absence of the last few days, her husband’s protective hovering and reluctance to be away, suddenly fell into place. If Lily had not been so distracted the past weeks, she might have put the pieces together sooner. “Serena, you are not increasing again?”
Her friend blushed. “Yes, I am.”
If Serena was pregnant, of course Lord Walter would want to avoid anything that would cause her distress. And for a man as conservative as he was, accustomed to the privileges of the peerage, that would mean keeping any scandal as far from his family as possible. His bribe to the magistrate suddenly made far more sense, though Lily still could not agree with it.
Serena had continued talking. “And then I made the mistake of telling Lord Walter that I had pains a few days ago. Nothing severe, as I tried to tell him, but of course he sent for Dr. Abernathy. Who suggested, most boorishly, that I be taken out of London and kept in the country until the babe arrives. An early confinement; can you believe it? I shall miss the rest of the season. Lord Walter, the beast, shall come back as often as he likes, of course, but me? Oh no, I shall be imprisoned in that wretched dungeon! And I shall miss Mrs. Winston’s party next Thursday, which is a dreadful shame. She knows all the best gossip, besides being friends with some very scandalous gentlemen …”
Lily could not help smiling at Serena’s description of Lord Walter’s Surrey property—a delightful estate surrounded by acres of rolling parkland and well-tended gardens—as a dungeon. “If the doctor thinks it best, Serena, you must do as he says. You’ve a great deal of energy and overtire yourself too often. If you’ll not attend to your own health, then your husband and your friends must do so for you.”
“Oh, you are far too practical.” Serena grumbled. “I shall do as they say, but only on the condition that you will visit for at least a month this summer. If I am to be imprisoned, I insist on having entertaining company.”
“I promise.” Lily raised her brows. “Does that mean we are no longer quarreling?”
Serena glanced at the door to make sure it was closed. “You know I never hold a grudge, Lily. And I admit that your intentions were good, though you seem to have an absurdly low opinion of mine.”
“Well.” Lily knew she should have let the matter rest, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. “I understand why Lord Walter thought the bribe was necessary, though I still think it wrong. But you were perfectly comfortable flouting the law and allowing a murderer to go free. You would have made the bribe yourself! Can you really be surprised that I disapprove?”
“Of course I was surprised.” And she really was, Lily realized. Serena was not angry anymore, but she was clearly baffled. “Even without my condition, there was every chance of a scandal arising if Bow Street continued their investigation. I would never let that happen to my family, and since we were able to prevent it, why not?”
“Just because you can do something does not mean you should,” Lily said quietly. “The whole point of the new police force is to ensure that everyone is treated equally.”
“Well, we all know that is not
going to happen anytime soon,” Serena said dismissively. “Yes, I see you looking outraged. You can stand on principle as much as you like, but I shall look after my family with whatever means are at my disposal. Would you not have done anything you could to keep Freddy safe and well?”
“That is not the same thing at all,” Lily insisted.
Serena shrugged. “Perhaps not in the details. But women’s lives are precarious, Lily; you know that as well as anyone. Even once we think we are secure and provided for, it all can be taken away from us. What if I had married a cruel man who left me and decided I could never see my children again? He would have every legal right to do so. What if you had no money when Freddy died? You would have had no choice but to return to that heartless shell of a man who calls himself your father. The world gives us precious few choices, Lily. We make what we can of them, but I cannot think of a single woman who would not do whatever was necessary to protect what she built for herself.” Serena raised a brow. “Can you?”
Lily, about to respond, froze as her friend spoke, her eyes growing wide and her mind working rapidly. “Serena …”
She had been assuming Augustus Finch had been murdered by the victim of his blackmail. But what if that was not the case at all? What if he had been killed, not by the men he had tried to blackmail, but by someone who was threatened by his mere presence in London? But then, who was the man who had been lurking outside her home—the man following her—the burglar who was not a burglar after all?
Lily pressed the heels of her hands against her eyelids. There were too many secrets to sift through, too many people hiding something.
“Lily? What on earth is the matter? Are you ill?”
Lily had almost forgotten about the scrap of lace in her reticule, but now she pulled it out. “Is this from one of your gowns?”
Serena took the piece of cloth, her expression concerned. “Lily, what—?”
“Did you tear that lace off one of your frocks when you were in the rose walk?”
“Not this time of year.” Serena turned the lace over in her hand. “I find rosebushes depressing without blooms.” Her expression grew suddenly sharp. “You found it in my rose walk? When?”
“The night of your party.”
“The night of the murder.” Serena, for all her affected frippery, was not slow to grasp the implications. “I suppose it is too much of a coincidence to imagine that another secretive conference took place in just that spot.” She scowled. “If I find that this Mr. Lacey of Lacey and West was in my gardens uninvited—”
“Really, Serena, I hardly think his lack of invitation was the most repellent—” Lily broke off abruptly. “Say that again.”
“What?”
“Say what you just said again.”
“I hadn’t a chance to say anything at all, dear; you interrupted me before I made my point, which was—”
“You said Mr. Lacey of Lacey and West.”
Serena frowned. “Was that not his name? Or Tacey or something like that?”
“It was Lacey. Of Lacey and West.” Lily stood abruptly. “I have to go. I am not sorry for expecting the best of you, Serena, but I am sorry for our quarrel. And for interrupting you just now. Both times.” She leaned forward to press a quick kiss against her friend’s cheek. “Have a safe journey. You will write to me when you get to Surrey?”
“I will. Lily?”
Lily paused with her hand on the door. “Yes?”
Serena’s eyes were wide. “Be careful.”
* * *
Lily was glad she had Anna with her as she made her way home—her mind was so preoccupied with all she had to think over that she could barely attend to the matter of finding a coach or telling the driver where to go. But as soon as she walked through the door at Half Moon Street, Carstairs was waiting with news that shook her out of her distraction: there was a boy in the kitchens asking to speak with her.
“I’d have sent the urchin on his way with a swift kick, I assure you, ma’am, but Mrs. Carstairs insisted that I allow him to wait for you.” He scowled. “She said he mentioned Captain Hartley’s name.”
“You did perfectly right in allowing him to stay.” Lily stripped off her gloves and handed them over. “I thank you for it. Now, show me to the boy.”
Mr. Carstairs insisted upon coming along, claiming there was no knowing what sort of swindle the boy would try, and Anna made no attempt to hide her curiosity. Lily sighed and allowed them to follow.
However Carstairs felt, it seemed his wife could not resist feeding any child put before her; Lily found Jem sitting in the kitchen devouring a plate of biscuits and a tall glass of milk. He jumped to his feet when he saw her. “Missus Adler.” He surprised her with an awkward bow. “You said as I was to report t’ you.”
“Exactly right.” Lily sat down and gestured for him to do the same. Behind her, Carstairs cleared his throat disapprovingly, but she ignored him. “And when we have finished, I shall see to it that Mrs. Carstairs gives you a proper supper before you go on your way.”
That won her a smile. “A real lady, you are.”
“What news do you have for me, Jem?” His expression became secretive, and he glanced nervously at the assembled servants. Lily tapped a finger under his chin to bring his attention back to her. “They live here as well and have a right to know if anyone threatens their home. Your news?”
“Y’ got a scary way of lookin’ at a chap, missus. I been here since Lacey got took and there weren’t no work at the office. And I thought as you should know, missus, there’s still a man watchin’ your house.” He jerked his head toward the door. “He stands on the other side o’ the street, like, in the shadows. Hours at a time, allus at night. Right creepy, it is.”
Lily silenced the nervous murmur that went through her servants with an upraised hand. “You are sure it is a man? Could it be a woman wearing a man’s clothes?”
“Oh no, missus. Fellow had to do his business at some point, didn’t he?” Jem shrugged. “Right up against the wall, plain as day. It’s a man for sure.”
A chill made its way down her back, but Lily kept her expression calm as she continued her questions. No, the man was not always there, but he had been watching for the past three nights and had arrived just after eight o’clock each time. Yes, he had come near the house once, but mostly he stayed across the street. No, he had never tried to enter through any of the doors. No, Jem had never seen the man’s face.
The boy answered each question with a thoughtful confidence that made her trust what he told her. When he was done, Lily nodded to Mrs. Carstairs, who set herself to the task of feeding Jem while Lily went upstairs to her sitting room, lost in thought. She did not realize she was not alone until she heard a throat being cleared behind her.
Mr. Carstairs and Anna had followed her, and they both looked worried. “Mrs. Adler,” the butler asked. “You believe the boy?”
“Completely. The man he saw has, I think, been watching this house for some time.”
“Then what are we to do?”
“He shall be dealt with, never fear. Please tell Mrs. Carstairs that I will be dining at home tonight after all.” The butler looked confused, but her calm manner seemed to reassure him, and he went to do as she asked.
Anna remained in the room; Lily turned to her. “Did you speak to your cousin yet?”
“I did, ma’am.” Anna’s eyes were wide. “He knew … somewhat of the Ketterings, though he wouldn’t swear to any of it as true, there always being so many rumors flying about.”
“And what are those rumors?”
“Seems there’s speculation that all their property is mortgaged to pay the family debts. Mr. Christopher Kettering isn’t said to be spendthrift, but his father and mother are known for …”
When Anna hesitated, Lily guessed, “Outrunning the tradesmen’s bills to keep up appearances?”
“Yes, ma’am.” The maid hesitated again, then asked, “Were you wanting to know about him before you
sent your letter?”
“My letter?” The question caught Lily off guard. “What letter?”
Anna gestured at her mistress’s writing desk. “I found it under a table in the drawing room, but I didn’t like to send it on without your instruction.”
There was indeed a letter addressed to Mr. Christopher Kettering there, as Lily discovered when she went to her desk. She immediately recalled Miss Harper’s visit, the startled way she had upset her reticule and sent its contents flying, the distracted way they had gathered them up while they continued talking. It was unsealed, and the contents were innocent enough—she read it with only a moment of quickly dismissed guilt—but the letter itself sent Lily’s mind racing.
Letters. The letter copied from the blotter in the George Inn, a faded representation of Mr. Finch’s scrawling, careless hand. His belongings scattered around the room … and the pistol, Lily remembered suddenly, the pistol that had been missing when they left.
Mr. Finch’s unsigned letters, from someone who knew of the business that tied together Parliament, the War Office, and a shipping firm engaged in treason. The stack of letters on Miss Harper’s desk, not all of them franked by Christopher Kettering’s father. Ofelia’s shocking letter from Mr. Finch, delivered after his death. Ofelia, who had decided to keep her first engagement a secret rather than risk losing the man she loved.
Mr. Harper, cornering Ofelia in the hallway outside the Walters’ ballroom, only moments after he had driven Lily into the garden where Mr. Finch was shot, not long after Ofelia herself had left those gardens. Mr. Harper, eyeing Lily over his wine, unconcerned by his distraught sister in the wake of the general’s death.
Serena, ready to do whatever was necessary to defend against even a hint of scandal. The world gives us precious few choices, Lily. We make what we can of them, but I cannot think of a single woman who would not do whatever was necessary to protect what she built for herself. Can you?
The Body in the Garden Page 29
