The Body in the Garden

by Katharine Schellman

  “All I know of you,” Ofelia continued, her voice shaking with emotion, “is that you murdered a man I have cared for since childhood. Believe me when I say it will be my pleasure to shoot you.”

  “Ofelia, no,” Lily said urgently, suddenly cold with dread. When she had instructed Ofelia to wait for Miss Harper, and to be armed, she had intended that, between them, they could subdue the woman until Jack returned and a constable was fetched. She had not counted on the girl taking matters into her own hands. “This was not the plan. Put it down.”

  “She killed Augustus.” The girl was shaking, her eyes bright with anger and tears. “She killed him—”

  Miss Harper made her move in a sudden lunge. Ofelia screamed in panic as Isobel grabbed the pistol, trying to wrestle it from her. The gun clattered to the floor as they grappled, Isobel swinging her knife wildly toward the girl’s unprotected face and throat.

  Lily raised her arm and fired.

  The report echoed deafeningly through the small room. Though Lily had fired directly into the ceiling, both Isobel and Ofelia flinched, falling apart as they tried to see who had been shot. The momentary distraction was enough. Lily threw her now-empty pistol aside and lunged to grab Ofelia’s. Isobel Harper moved at the same time, but Lily was quicker; she kicked out, her foot connecting solidly with Isobel’s shoulder. The other woman rolled away, grunting in pain as Lily stumbled to her feet, pistol clutched in her hand.

  And then there were shouts all around them, bellows echoing from both the side passage and the front hall, people running into the room. Someone was calling Ofelia’s name—Sir Edward Carroway, Lily saw with confusion, running in from the hall and seizing her, checking for injuries—and someone was grappling with Isobel Harper, wrestling the knife from her hands. Someone grabbed Lily’s shoulder and pulled her around; without thinking, she brought the gun up and found herself pointing it at Jack, who backed away very quickly.

  And then there was silence, almost as deafening as the confusion had been, broken only by the sound of muffled sobs as Ofelia cried into Sir Edward’s shoulder. Two men—one of them was Simon Page, Lily realized with a start—held Isobel Harper’s arms behind her back. Miss Harper was very pale and breathing heavily, her gaze darting around the room as the truth of the situation slowly dawned on her. She was caught.

  Breathing as heavily as Isobel, Lily turned back to Jack, her stunned mind latching on to one question. “Where did you come from?”

  “The magistrate’s office.” He was panting too. “Luckily, Mr. Page was on duty and took me seriously when I said you were about to have a visit from a murderer. Are you hurt?” He was looking her over from head to toe. “We heard a gunshot.”

  “I fired into the ceiling.” Lily hoped it didn’t sound like a stupid thing to have done. She looked up at the hole in the ceiling, shaking. “I shall need to have that replastered.”

  “Never mind the damn ceiling. What happened? Why was—” Jack broke off, at a loss for words, and made a sweeping gesture that took in the entire room, from Miss Harper to Ofelia, still tucked in the protective circle of Sir Edward’s arm. “What happened?”

  “Mrs. Adler told me her plan to lure the real murderer out.” Ofelia spoke too fast, her voice shaking. “If she saw you chasing after another man, Captain, Miss Harper would think the house unprotected. Who was he?”

  “Her brother, apparently. Not part of this business.” Sir Edward had not let go of his intended, and she turned to look at him for the first time.

  “What are you doing here, Neddy?”

  “Making sure you are safe, of course. Hartley’s boy fetched me.”

  “But what …” Jack trailed off, his gaze returning to Miss Harper. “I realized too late that you were planning something, and I knew you must be using yourself as bait. But I did not expect her.”

  “I did.” Lily took a deep breath. “Miss Harper is our mysterious third conspirator.”

  “She killed Lacey?” Mr. Page demanded.

  “She killed all three of them.” Lily laid aside the pistol, her voice growing more steady. “Mr. Finch, Mr. Lacey, and of course, her uncle.”

  “Her own uncle,” the second Runner repeated, disbelieving. “Why?”

  “For money, in the end, though that makes it sound simpler than it was,” Lily said sadly, her eyes on Miss Harper’s furious face. “It started with your father’s will, did it not? Of course he expected that his own brother would take excellent care of his daughter. So the money went to your uncle for your care and upkeep, without you seeing a penny, and it was to go to your husband after you married. I expect your father set you up to receive an allowance from the interest after you wed, but until then you were at your uncle’s mercy.”

  “He gambled it away.” Isobel’s voice rose angrily. “The stupid man—horses! And cards. And whores, I have no doubt. Him and Reggie, useless, both of them. I’d no idea it was gone until—” She broke off, shaking. “You do not understand. I did not … I do not need to explain myself to you.”

  “No need,” Lily said. “I believe I can manage. You became engaged to a charming army coronet, and when the marriage settlements were drawn up, you discovered that there was almost no money left. He jilted you publicly—a humiliating experience, I have no doubt—and ruined your chances of making another match by putting it about that you were a practically a pauper. You were forced to remain dependent on the uncle you hated.”

  “He was a weak fool,” Isobel snapped, unable to stay completely silent.

  “But how could she have known about—?” Mr. Page frowned in confusion.

  “About the general’s scheme with Mr. Lacey to profit off the war?” Lily shook her head. “Because it was not the general’s scheme after all.” Miss Harper glared, but there was a look like pride in her eyes. “As Miss Harper said, he was a stupid man. They had to all work together—she needed her uncle’s government contacts, after all, and the shipping agency of Lacey and West—but the idea behind it was all hers. You gave me the key to it, Isobel, without meaning to, though I did not realize it until today. You told me you were going to visit your aunt in Hans Town. Your aunt, Mrs. West, who is a widow.”

  “Lacey and West.” Jack shook his head. “We knew he was dead, so we never concerned ourselves with him.”

  “And with that connection, she was able to pull the scheme together. When I saw Mr. Lacey drop that note in your reticule, Miss Harper, I assumed he was using you to pass messages to your uncle without your knowledge. But, in fact, he was passing it to you. And once we uncovered the scheme, she killed both Lacey and her uncle so they could not reveal her involvement.” Miss Harper said nothing, but her gaze moved around the room to each of the Bow Street officers, and there was panic growing in her eyes.

  “But then how did the Finch fellow become involved?” Simon Page asked.

  “Isobel told him.” Lily turned to Ofelia. The younger woman was shaking visibly, still in the protective circle of Sir Edward’s arm, but her eyes were hard and angry. “You wondered how he could have known about something that was happening in London. But Miss Harper told us she had been to the West Indies with her uncle some years before. She and Mr. Finch struck up an acquaintance and had corresponded ever since.”

  “The unsigned letters were hers?” Mr. Page demanded.

  “She dropped a letter in my home when she came to see whether I suspected her. When my maid found it, I recognized the hand. And then I remembered seeing two piles of letters on Miss Harper’s writing desk the day the general died. One franked by Mr. Kettering’s father, the other in a hand I finally realized was Mr. Finch’s. It took realizing her connection to Mr. West, though, to put together the pieces together.” Lily raised her eyebrows at Miss Harper. “It was most unwise to keep Mr. Finch’s letters after you killed him, Isobel.”

  “Augustus never told me he corresponded with an English lady,” Ofelia said quietly.

  Lily laid a comforting hand on the younger woman’s shoulder, but her at
tention was still fixed on Isobel Harper. “The letter that you showed me, Mr. Page, was when Isobel told him about the whole business, though doubtless she said it was all her uncle’s doing.”

  “Do you not see how absurd this is?” Miss Harper interrupted, speaking too quickly as she looked from one stony face to another. “If I were responsible for my uncle’s scheme, as you insist, why would I tell this Mr. Finch about it?”

  “A clever mind likes an audience.” Lily’s voice was cold as she repeated Miss Harper’s words. “Is that not what you said, Isobel? You were so proud of your cleverness that you had to tell someone. Augustus Finch was safely away in the West Indies, where he could never interfere. Except that he did. His presence in London threatened to expose your family to scandal. And the Ketterings were so close to announcing your betrothal to Christopher. You would have been out of your uncle’s house, finally, living the life you felt he had stolen from you.” She turned to her flabbergasted audience. “Which is why, when she overheard Mr. Finch attempting to blackmail the general, Miss Harper panicked and shot him.”

  “You killed him.” Ofelia’s cheeks were wet with tears, and the fury in her voice made Lily glad that the girl no longer held a gun. “You killed him just so you could have money—!”

  “I did not mean to!” Isobel said, her voice desperate. “Augustus—he came to see me—I’d no idea he was in London! Then I saw him that night through the window—I went out to the garden to find him …” She sagged against the arms that held her, as if she no longer had the energy to protest her innocence.

  “You followed him out to the garden?” Lily prompted her when no one else seemed inclined to speak.

  Isobel nodded. “I overheard Mr. Finch threaten to expose my uncle …” She looked from one stony face to another. “I’d not meant to hurt him, but I could not … I could not bear the thought of being stuck in the general’s house any longer. You have to understand, my uncle was not going to pay him!” Isobel’s voice was becoming frantic. “He laughed at Augustus, and told him to go ahead. He could only ever, ever think of himself. His name might protect him, but what would become of me? I would be ruined a second time. No husband, no reputation, nothing!” She was breathing heavily, her eyes wide and frantic. “Christopher would never want to marry me then, and I would have been stuck with my uncle forever. Forever! After what he did to me—you must see I had no other choice. I had to kill them.” Her eyes traveled over their faces, pleading for understanding. “How could I risk losing everything, again? You’ve no idea what that is like.”

  “You had your life planned out when you were younger,” Lily said quietly. “And then, through no fault of your own, it was taken from you. I understand how that feels. I know how—” She broke off, and when she spoke again, her voice was cold. “But you were not owed that life, Isobel. None of us are. And none of that— none of it—justifies what you have done.”

  Isobel laughed bitterly. “If I had gone after my uncle from the beginning, no one would have been the wiser. But it never occurred to me that I could until—”

  “Until after you shot Augustus Finch,” Lily said. “And having killed already, when we were getting too close to the truth, it seemed the obvious course of action a second time as well.”

  “But Lacey visited that night.” Simon Page frowned. “The general sent all the servants away to keep the meeting secret.”

  “No.” Lily shook her head, eyes still fixed on Isobel Harper. “Mr. Harper told you that the general asked his niece to dismiss the servants for the night. Which she did, but I doubt it was at her uncle’s request. She removed any witnesses, and then she shot him. The story of a secret meeting pointed the finger squarely at Lacey if anyone came poking around. It was easy for her to pretend to discover him the next morning. No one questions a lady in hysterics too closely.”

  “And I suppose she visited Lacey in prison and shot him as well?” Jack asked.

  Lily nodded. “He wanted to tell us something that night. And he was the only one left who could reveal her role in the scheme.”

  “Except for you,” Ofelia said, her eyes never leaving her friend’s murderer.

  Lily inclined her head. “Except, as it turns out, for me.”

  There was silence in the room for a long moment; then Isobel Harper lifted her chin as regally as if she were in a ballroom. “I should like to leave now, if you would be so kind, gentlemen.”

  No one protested.

  CHAPTER 28

  The weeks passed in a blur. The inquest into the deaths of General Harper and Hyrum Lacey, and the reopened interest in the death of one Augustus Finch, sent shock waves through Mayfair society. There were rumors about Lily’s involvement, and for a time she felt something almost like notoriety. But nothing definite was known, and the principle result was that she received twice as many invitations from hostesses who were hoping she would be a scandalous addition to their parties. In that hope, they were disappointed, but the rumors continued.

  It all came back to secrets. There were so many of them in the air, Lily commented wryly to Ofelia one evening, that they practically held up the walls of London’s town houses. The girl, who fortunately had managed to escape such rumors, merely laughed. She did that more now that Augustus’s killer was awaiting trial for his murder.

  Not wanting more public attention, Lily had asked Jack to testify at the inquest on her behalf. He had agreed, but she had not seen him since. After spending nearly every day in his company for weeks, she found herself missing the navy captain. If he had called, she would have apologized for keeping him in the dark about Isobel until the last possible moment. But he sent no word, and Lily was angry with him for avoiding her.

  “He’ll come around,” Mr. Page told her sympathetically. They were meeting in his office on Great Marlborough Street. The same wide-eyed porter from her first visit had taken notes as Lily described her confrontation with Isobel Harper, then left to go report to Mr. Neve, the magistrate, who—Lily was dismayed to discover—was as much in charge of things as ever, with no questions asked as to why he had dropped the case. Lily wondered if that, too, was due to Lord Walter’s influence. If Mr. Page was frustrated by this fact, he never said, though Lily thought she saw him scowl at the magistrate’s private office as he escorted her to the front door. “He didn’t like you putting yourself in danger.”

  “Or intentionally deceiving him,” Lily said, unable to keep the glum note from her voice.

  “Or that,” the Bow Street Runner agreed. “You could have told me what you were planning, you know.”

  “I worried that if too many people were involved, Isobel would suspect a trap. And we had no real proof—even her letters to Mr. Finch proved nothing definite. She had to be caught in the middle of things.”

  “Still, always better to have a second plan in case something goes awry.”

  “I shall remember that for next time.”

  Mr. Page raised his eyebrows as he collected his coat from the porter. “Do you intend there to be a next time, Mrs. Adler? I’d think you would be glad to put things like murder behind you and have your life return to normal.”

  “Oh, of course. I am sure that is precisely what I need.” Lily smiled weakly, wondering what exactly normal meant for her anymore. But she couldn’t say such a personal thing to Mr. Page, so instead she asked, “Is your work finished for the day?”

  “Yes, homeward I go.”

  “To your wife and children?” Lily’s smile was more genuine this time as Anna, who had been waiting for her mistress, joined them.

  “Oh no, I’ve never been married.” Mr. Page grinned at her suddenly blank expression as he held open the door for her. “I’ve shocked you, ma’am. The children are my nephew and niece, but my sister and I have raised them since our brother and his wife were taken from us by an inflammation of the lungs.”

  Lily swallowed, feeling suddenly exposed as they stood on the steps of the magistrate’s office, though no one on the street was paying
them any attention. “My condolences.”

  “Thank you. It was seven years ago, but still …”

  “Yes.”

  Something in Lily’s quiet reply made the constable look at her sharply. “Your husband went the same way?” he asked. When Lily nodded, he said gently, “And my condolences to you, ma’am. It’s a nasty business, that.”

  “It was.” Not wanting to dwell on such an uncomfortable subject, Lily cleared her throat and said, more cheerfully, “I heard that the night watch stumbled upon a most shocking person in Piccadilly the morning after Miss Harper’s arrest.”

  “Ah yes, the gentleman wandering around stark naked and completely unwilling to explain how he had ended up in such a state.” Mr. Page cast her a sideways glance. “How surprising that young Mr. Harper should find himself in such a scrape on the very night of his family’s disgrace. It seems a great many people witnessed his shameful walk to the watch house. And then, of course, his family was in such disarray that it was some time before a friend could be found to secure his release.”

  “How terrible for him to be humiliated in such a manner, on top of all the trouble he will face now his family has been exposed so criminally.” Lily kept her voice carefully neutral. “And of course his financial prospects are quite ruined—who knows how he will support himself?”

  “You needn’t try to sound innocent,” Mr. Page said dryly, but he couldn’t hide his grin. The friendly expression made his otherwise unremarkable face seem almost handsome. “Captain Hartley told me how the whole business came about. Remind me never to cross you, ma’am.” As he hailed a carriage for her—it wouldn’t do to walk from Soho, even with her maid in attendance—the constable gave her an encouraging smile. “And don’t fret too much about the captain,” he advised. “It’s hard on a man to discover a woman doesn’t need his help.”