Death at the Crystal Palace

by Jennifer Ashley

  Mr. Davis, hearing this news, muttered that he’d better lock up the wine, and hastened down the hall.

  Daniel did not come. I badly wanted to see him, but James stopped in with a message that Daniel had returned to Scotland Yard and was working through the aftermath of the duke’s admission to his crimes. The duke and duchess hadn’t exactly been arrested, James said, which was no surprise to me, but Daniel and his guv’nor were speaking to each of them for hours at a time.

  I realized that Daniel and Mr. Monaghan would use the duke’s knowledge to find others in his organization. They’d interrogate him about who the leaders were and whether other plots were brewing. If the duke feared exposure and accusations of treason, he might be willing to tell all he knew.

  I imagined being the recipient of the icy gray stare of Mr. Monaghan. The duke would confess all just to get away from it, I wagered.

  I was not certain the duchess would be as yielding. The fire inside her had burned long and deeply.

  What would those in the secret society the duke funded do now? I wondered as I worked. Disband and flee? Or try to silence the duke? The last possibility made me shiver, and I worried for Daniel’s safety. These men would blame Daniel for the duke’s capture, and I hoped they never had to know about him.

  I was very busy the rest of that week, as Lady Clifford decided to use her time in London to renew old acquaintances. She had a supper party almost every night, to the delight of Mrs. Bywater, who basked in the company of aristocrats, and the dismay of Mr. Bywater, who preferred quiet and uncomplicated meals.

  Tess and I made lobster pancakes, fish with champagne sauce, soups of Symes’s beans and tender spring greens, roasted lamb and beef, gooseberry tarts, my Antiguan custards, asparagus every way imaginable, strawberry soufflé, and when Mrs. Bywater demanded it, the lemon cake.

  On Wednesday afternoon, Cynthia entered the kitchen in one of her new, trimmer frocks, a spring in her step. She smiled widely at me as she leaned her hands on the kitchen table, right in the middle of a dusting of flour.

  “I know this was your doing, Mrs. H.”

  I looked up from crushing parsley and dill in my mortar, the herbs releasing their pungent fragrance. “What was?”

  Cynthia stood up. She thumped her hand to her chest, leaving a smear of flour on the dark blue fabric. “I would like you to greet Mr. Elgin Thanos’s new assistant for his mathematics lectures.” She spread her arms, her eyes sparkling.

  “Excellent.” I laid down the pestle, forcing myself to remain on my side of the table. It would never do for me to rush around and embrace her. “I am pleased he talked Sir Arthur into it.”

  “He jolly well did. Sir Arthur’s brush with death has made him an agreeable and affable man. He thought it a grand idea to have me help Thanos keep his equations straight. Truth to tell, I imagine he saw what a muddle Thanos started to get himself into at the lecture last week and leapt at the solution.” Cynthia leaned toward me again. “I thank you, Mrs. Holloway. Truly.”

  “I only wished to help,” I said, trying to sound innocent.

  Cynthia straightened up once more, sending me a sly look. “You forget that I grew up in the house of a confidence trickster. You are up to something.” A grin split her face. “But I don’t mind. I am happy to be useful, and to help out dear Thanos. I am glad to call you friend.”

  She swallowed, and my eyes grew moist.

  Before either of us could dissolve into sentimentality, she spun away and ran off, her loose skirts swinging.

  “Well, that is that,” I murmured, and returned to crushing herbs for my sauce.

  On Thursday morning, Mrs. Bywater came to the kitchen to suggest I forgo my day out, as Lady Clifford had more guests coming for supper and card playing. Tess looked hurt, as Mrs. Bywater clearly did not believe her up to the challenge of preparing a large meal by herself.

  But my Thursdays were sacrosanct. I told Mrs. Bywater without flinching that to give up Thursday would mean the end of my employment. Not even the offer of a whole day Monday instead could move me. I saw Grace two days a week—though Mrs. Bywater did not know of the reason for my inflexibility—and that was the end of it.

  I stoutly declared that Tess would do fine until my return this evening, and to my surprise, both Mr. Davis and Mrs. Redfern agreed with me. Tess wilted in gratitude, and then almost spoiled it by puffing herself up after Mrs. Bywater departed and proclaiming that she commanded the kitchen now. I left her to it, knowing Mr. Davis and Mrs. Redfern would not let her head swell too much.

  I donned my hat and light spring coat and made my way via omnibuses and by foot to Cheapside, and so to the Millburns and Grace.

  “I have a treat for you today,” I told Grace after I greeted her and the family. “We are going back to the Crystal Palace, to see more of its wonders.” It had been a place of tragedy, but I did not want to shun it. With an excited Grace, who was eager to go, I could weave happier memories around it.

  We departed at once and boarded a train to take us south. We rode third-class this time, and I felt much more at home, the conductor brusque but in a cheerful way. We shared our compartment with a good-natured woman and her grown daughter, a young man off to work on the coast, and an older man heading to the Crystal Palace to stroll the park.

  I did my best not to think of failing wheels and carriages twisting from the track as we traveled, and we alighted at the Crystal Palace station without a mishap.

  A man in a work-worn brown coat and cap, with dark hair and warm blue eyes, met us on the platform. My heart lightened as Daniel greeted Grace and me, took my arm, and led us onward.

  * * *

  * * *

  We strolled the vast park for a time, as the weather was fine, before entering the Crystal Palace itself. Sun in a blue sky slanted through the glass building, warming it through.

  “May we look again at the Egyptian Court?” Grace asked after luncheon as we moved down the nave past fountains and vast statues of kings and prominent gentlemen. “I did not see enough of it last time. I want to go to Egypt. I’ve been reading about it in Mrs. Millburn’s history books.”

  “Perhaps one day you will,” Daniel said with enthusiasm. “You could be an archaeologist.”

  I had only a vague idea about how one went about becoming an archaeologist, but Grace looked pleased, so I did not blight her interest with practical thinking.

  Daniel and I led Grace to the Egyptian exhibit and then, when we’d exhausted that, the nearby Greek one. The medieval courts were worth a look as well, so elegant and mysteriously ancient.

  While Grace admired suits of armor, Daniel and I reposed on a bench to keep watch over her. He and I sat very close but didn’t touch each other.

  “Daventry and his wife are making a journey to Rome,” Daniel told me in a low voice. We’d not discussed the duke or the poisoning during luncheon, as we’d been surrounded by other diners, and I’d preferred to keep the conversation cheerful in front of Grace. “Likely a permanent one.”

  I was not surprised. I’d known in my bones that the duke and duchess would never be imprisoned. Arresting a distinguished duke would raise too many questions, but a discreet exit from the country could be attributed to anything, including ill health.

  “Will they be watched?” I did not believe Mr. Monaghan would let them go so easily.

  “They’ll be guests of a man Monaghan trusts,” Daniel rumbled.

  “Which means they’ll be watched very closely.”

  Daniel gave me a nod. “As you say.”

  I studied the carved stone of the false castle courtyard surrounding us. “Who is he, this Mr. Monaghan?”

  Daniel’s lips twitched. “No one I can discuss in a public place.”

  We’d spoken in quiet voices, but yes, anyone could be listening. The statuary and greenery afforded hiding places for eavesdroppers. I’d never though
t about such things before I’d met Daniel.

  “Caleb has kept Tess informed about the poison case,” I said. “Caleb says the barrister might put it to the judge that her mind is unhinged.”

  “It very nearly is,” Daniel said. “I saw her initial interview with Inspector McGregor. Her grief drove her to it, she said. She knew she might harm others in the house, but it didn’t matter to her, as long as Lady Covington sickened and eventually died. She’s confessed all and does not want the bother of a trial, says Inspector McGregor, but her solicitor is being very careful.”

  “I feel sorry for her, but at the same time—she had to be stopped.”

  “Evil is not solved by evil,” Daniel said. “It only expands the problem. And then it never ends.”

  “Very cheering.” I reached to him and squeezed his hand. “Let us speak no more of it. Except for me to admit that at first I thought it quite likely Jonathan Morris was the culprit. Or Jepson. But I’ve come to see she is devoted to Lady Covington, fanatically so.”

  “Young Morris likes to play the ne’er-do-well.” Daniel captured my fingers and twined his through them. “When I saw Thanos yesterday, he told me a story he remembered about Jonathan. A chap Thanos knew at school had gotten into debt with a bad man. Owed the bloke several thousand pounds, and the man was going to send a thug to beat it out of him. Jonathan, a friend of the chap, intervened and paid the debt to spare his friend getting beaten. Jonathan was skint for months afterward. Lady Covington, who thought he’d lost the money on horses, curtailed his allowance for a time, until he won her over again.” Daniel paused. “It takes a generous heart for a man to help a friend like that.”

  I leaned back, enjoying the sunlight washing us, the warmth of Daniel’s hand in mine. “Lady Covington said from the beginning that Jonathan would never harm anyone. I am glad for her that she is right.”

  “It also takes a generous heart for a woman to give up her precious little time to help a lady in distress. To see it through until the end. And to put on a gown and pretend to be a man’s fiancée so he can catch a criminal.” Daniel ran a thumb over my gloved hand, which started a tingle of fire low in my abdomen.

  I spoke quickly to cover my sudden fluster. “I would say I was happy to help you, but I was not. I was frightened every minute I’d be found out. I do not know how you retain your equilibrium in your disguises, my friend. In the end, I could be no one but myself. My true self, the one I’d forgotten existed.” I gave a little laugh.

  Daniel was suddenly closer to me. “I’ll never forgive myself for it.” He glanced at my shoulder where the knife had cut it. “How are you?”

  “I told you, it was only a scratch.” It had hurt badly, and now it itched, but I was not one to give in to physical discomfort. “Bobby cleaned it up nicely. She ought to be a doctor. Or a medic’s assistant, or something of the sort.”

  “Mmm. I believe her family, who can put up with her dressing as a man and smoking cigars, would faint with horror if she took up work.”

  “A waste, if that is true,” I said. “A woman can work as hard as any man. Why shouldn’t we?”

  “Because you are made to be beautiful and to inspire us to goodness.” Daniel turned his wide smile on me to show me he was joking.

  I remembered, however, how he’d gazed at me when I’d appeared in the lovely gowns, as though he’d wanted me to stand still so he could admire me all day. I’d been far too pleased he thought I looked well, but the gowns and high-heeled shoes had been a bit impractical.

  “Absolute nonsense,” I said, but I softened my tone. “There are plenty of comely young ladies in the world, but I don’t notice all the gentlemen rushing into goodness.”

  Daniel chuckled. “Ah, my cynical Kat.”

  “Your sensible Kat. I look at the world as it is.”

  “You do.” His laughter faded, and his eyes grew still. “I am pleased you said your.”

  “Did I?” My heart made a small flutter. “I was practicing good rhetoric. A trick of speech.”

  “Is that all it was?” The amusement had left Daniel’s voice, as had the flirtatiousness.

  I wound my fingers more tightly through his. “No.”

  “I am very glad to hear it, Kat.”

  I decided to say no more. We sat, two upright people watching a young girl study the scenery, but Daniel’s arm touched the length of mine and his warmth covered me more than that.

  I could have sat thus all day. No awkwardness between us, just acknowledgment and acceptance. I was Kat and he was Daniel, as it should be.

  Grace turned and waved to us, her smile wide. She was my world, and with Daniel beside me, it was complete.

  Photo by Silvio Portrait Design

  Jennifer Ashley is the New York Times bestselling author of more than one hundred novels and novellas in mystery, romance, and historical fiction. Jennifer’s books have been translated into more than a dozen languages and have earned starred reviews in Publishers Weekly and Booklist. When she isn’t writing, Jennifer enjoys playing music (guitar, piano, flute), reading, hiking, gardening, and building dollhouse miniatures.

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