“No, nothing so grand as that.” Arthur smiled. He came over and leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. “How do you feel today?” he inquired gently.
Leona hesitated then said, “Very well. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, it’s been a hard time with all this business about Crinshaw’s murder, and I worry about you.” He pulled a small chair up beside her and asked, “Do you think you could handle a bit of good news?”
Leona looked at her son and smiled slightly. “That’s been rare enough in this house. What is it?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking lately about myself. I know I haven’t been the kind of son that you wanted. I know I showed great weakness when I just gave up after my wife died. That was not manly of me.”
Leona reached out and touched her son’s cheek. “You loved her very much, didn’t you?”
“You know I did. She was my whole life, Mother, and when she went away it was like I couldn’t function.”
“I know well enough what that’s like.”
“I know,” he said. “You felt the same way about Father, didn’t you?”
“I loved him with all my heart. Except for you, I gave him more love than anyone else.”
The two sat there silently, and finally she shook her head as if to clear it and asked, “Well, what’s the good news you’re talking about?”
“Ever since Crinshaw died, something has been bothering me. He died so suddenly, and whatever plans he had he’ll never complete them now. I got to thinking about myself and my life and my painting. And I’ve made a decision.”
“You’re going to take up your career again?”
“Yes,” he said. His voice was eager, and his eyes were glowing with excitement. “I had no idea I had so many paintings. They’re stuffed everywhere in my studio. There are over a hundred and fifty of them. Some of them are not much, just beginner’s things. I’ve kept every painting I ever made, except those I gave away. But some of them are very good, and you know Hershel Townsend told me once that if I ever wanted to have a show, he would have it in his gallery. I’ve written him a letter, Mother, and told him I would like to have a show, and I know he’ll be agreeable.”
“Why, that’s wonderful, Arthur,” Leona said. She lifted her head and looked at him with something like pride in her eyes. “That would make me very happy indeed if you would come out of the shell you’ve been in.”
“Well, I have been in a shell, haven’t I? It hasn’t been fair to you nor to Gervase, and she’s been faithful to stay close to me. And I want to promise you this. No more heavy drinking.”
“There’s a good son,” Leona said warmly. “Now, why don’t you help me up to the attic. I’d like to see all those paintings.”
“Some of them you’ve never seen. You think the stairs would be too much for you?”
“Not with you to help me.” Leona got up out of her chair and took Arthur’s arm. The two of them left, and soon they were climbing the stairs.
He moved very slowly with his left arm around her waist and his right holding her arm, and as they ascended, he said, “I’d like very much to make you proud of me, Mother.”
“I am proud of you, Arthur. I always have been.”
The horse rose in the air, clearing the large log that had fallen across the riding path, but as he came down, he faltered and dug his front hooves into the ground so suddenly that Trevor was caught unprepared. He shot over the big bay’s head and turned a somersault, landing flat on his back. He saw the horse looming over him and feared that he would be trampled, but the hind hooves struck not one foot from his head, and he lay there for a moment weak with relief.
“Trevor! Trevor, are you all right?”
Trevor got to his feet and saw that Gervase, whose mount had cleared the same obstacle easily, had reined up and was coming back. She came up to him, and her eyes were wide. “Are you all right, Trevor?” she asked, her voice tense.
“Oh, yes, I’m fine. Just a clumsy oaf is all.”
“That was a hard fall. I’ve taken many like it myself.”
Trevor looked ruefully at the big bay named Pilot. “Pilot,” he said, “you’re a bad ’orse.” Then, changing his mind, he said, “No, you’re not.” He went up to the bay, held his hand out, and the bay nosed at it and nibbled at his fingers. “You just ’ad a bad rider.” He petted the horse on the neck and said, “No more jumping for me.”
“You frightened me to death,” Gervase said. “When I saw you go down, I was afraid Pilot would land on top of you.”
“So was I. You know, I always ’eard that your whole past flashes before you when you think you’re about to die.”
“Is that what happened?”
“No, I was too scared for that. All I could think of was a thousand pounds of ’orseflesh landing on my face.” He saw that she was still afraid, and he reached out and took her hand. “Don’t worry. I’m fine.”
“Let’s walk for a while,” she said.
“All right.” He picked up the reins, held them by the very end, and she did the same. They began to walk down the pathway. The snow lay in thin white ribbons, but the earth beneath was exposed for the most part. The ground had thawed somewhat and gave slightly under their feet. Large trees rose in ranks on each side of the riding path, and since the sun was past the meridian now, they were beginning to cast long shadows on the ground.
“This is really a pretty place, Gervase,” he said. “I’ve never seen anything like it. “
“I’m glad you think so. I’ve always loved it. When my father brought me here, I was too young to know much, but I have a few faint memories of how bad things were for him and for me for a while, of course. But then Silverthorn became a wonderful place to grow up.”
“What about your birth father?”
“He was a sailor. He was killed in action at sea. I don’t know much else about him.”
They walked along, and Trevor finally said, “I’ve been watching Father and Mother since I’ve come ’ere. They’re a ’appy pair. They really love each other.”
“Yes, they do, and you’ve made their happiness complete. I’m so thankful to God that you finally found your right place.”
Trevor suddenly halted and turned to face her. She stopped also, and the two stood still for a moment. She could see the clear resemblance to Edward Hayden in his face, and as always, it gave her a strong sense of satisfaction. She said, “You know, so many things don’t work out in this world, Trevor. There are so many bad endings to stories.”
“’Appy endings come mostly in books,” he agreed.
“But this is like a storybook ending. Here you are, an orphan leading a terrible life, and suddenly out of nowhere, you are found and restored to a loving father and mother who thought you were dead. It’s almost unbelievable.”
“It is to me. I sometimes lie in bed and think that after I go to sleep, I’ll wake up back in that awful ’ouse where I lived in London.”
“No, you’ve found your place.”
Suddenly he reached out and took her free hand with his. It was cold, and he said, “Your ’and is cold. You should wear gloves.”
“A horsewoman can’t wear gloves. She needs to feel the horse through the lines.” She was watching him steadily, and suddenly she smiled at him and said, “Anyway, you’re holding my hand.”
“Am I?”
“Yes, you are.”
“Well, that shows my poor breeding. To ’old a lady’s ’and is something that gentry would never do.”
“Oh, yes they would, and more than that, I’m afraid.”
He tightened his grip and said, “I want to ’ear about all of the young men that you’ve been interested in. Who gave you your first kiss?”
“Jonah Reardon,” she said promptly. “He was thirteen, and I was twelve. He grabbed me and kissed me, and I ran home crying. I washed my mouth off until my lips were sore. I knew so little. I was afraid I’d have a baby.”
Trevor suddenly laughed at her. “We learnt about
life a little bit earlier than that in the Seven Dials district—most of it pretty bad.”
“You’re still holding my hand.”
“It’s from a sense of gratitude,” Trevor assured her. “If it weren’t for you, I think I would ’ave gone back. Father and Mother were nice, but I was afraid that I would never learn to be a gentleman.” He suddenly lifted her hand and kissed it. “First time I ever kissed a lady’s ’and.”
Gervase said nothing for a moment, and then her voice was quiet as she said, “You do it very well, Trevor. You don’t need any lessons in hand kissing.”
“What about other kinds of kissing?”
Suddenly she laughed and struck him lightly in the chest with her fist. “That’s enough of that now. Come along. Get on that horse. We’re going back to the house.” She turned, but he took hold of her arm. “I meant what I said. I couldn’t have stayed ’ere if it ’adn’t been for you.”
“I’m glad you feel that way. Are you still worried about being accused of Crinshaw’s murder?”
“Yes,” he confessed. “I’m still the logical suspect.”
“It will never happen. Come on now. Your life is going to be like a storybook. You’re going to be cleared of all guilt, you’re going to become a gentleman, and one day you’ll be the Earl of Darby. You’ll marry a beautiful princess and have four children, all girls.”
“No, I insist on two boys and two girls.”
“Very well, you will have your own way, I suppose.” She laughed and said, “Aren’t we foolish?”
“Yes, it feels good. Let’s go. I’ll try not to fall off on the way back to the stable.”
After his ride Trevor went to his room, cleaned up, and changed clothes. He intended to go down to his parents’ room and spend part of the afternoon with them, but as he was passing Lady Leona’s quarters, the door opened, so he said, “Good afternoon, Lady Leona.”
“Come in. I want to show you something.”
Trevor hesitated, but she smiled and took his hand. “It’s something I haven’t shown anybody in a long, long time.”
Reluctantly Trevor went inside the beautiful room. The walls were covered with a wallpaper such as he had never seen, with figures done in light green and contrasting darker green. The door to the right, he suspected, led to her bedroom. “What is it, Lady Leona?”
“This. You haven’t thought of this in a long time, have you, Leslie?”
Her use of the name Leslie was somehow frightening. He did not correct her, but he was afraid of her mental illness. He once had been taken by a friend to Bethlehem, some called it Bedlam, where the insane people of London were kept. They were treated scurrilously, and many of the gentry laughed as if they were strange animals of some sort. Ever since that day he had been afraid of anyone who showed signs of mental problems, and he felt it especially in this room with this woman.
She went to a small Louis XIV desk and opened the drawer, and when she came back, he saw that she was behaving in a strange manner. “Look, you remember this, Leslie?”
Trevor saw that she was holding a beautiful necklace. The chain was of gold, and there was a large red stone. “It’s very nice, Lady Leona.”
“Oh, yes, it’s very nice.” She seemed to become more agitated. “You remember that you gave it to Edith, and all the time you knew that I wanted it.”
“That—that wasn’t me, Lady Leona.”
She was almost babbling now. “You always loved Edith. You should have married me, but you married her, and it broke my heart. Oh, yes, it did!” She suddenly reached out and grabbed his sleeve. “I found a way to get my revenge after she was dead. She wanted to be buried wearing this necklace. You didn’t know that, did you, Leslie? She told me many times, but when she was finally laid down, just before she was buried, I put another one around her neck, a cheap thing, and I kept this one. It took a long time, Leslie. Finally she was gone.”
The old woman was talking in an incoherent manner, and Trevor was trying desperately to think of some way to escape. Suddenly she pulled at him, and he had to follow her. “Here,” she said, “sit down.”
“Really, Lady Leona, I need to go.”
“Sit down, Leslie. You never had any time for me like you did for Edith, but I’ve got something that you will like.” She turned to a mahogany chest, opened it, and pulled a bottle out with a glass. “Look, it’s that wine that you always loved so much. This is the last bottle that’s left. You always loved it, and Edith did too.” She poured the glass full almost to the brim and said, “I want you to share it with me.”
“I really don’t care for any wine,” Trevor said.
“Here, take it.” She forced the glass toward him, and automatically he took it. “Now, drink it up. We’ll drink to us—to me and to you, Leslie, Earl of Darby.”
With resignation Trevor thought, If I just drink this, I can get out of here. He started to raise the glass to his lips when suddenly the door to the bedroom burst open. Lady Serafina rushed into the room, followed closely by Dylan Tremayne and Matthew Grant.
Trevor rose, and at that moment Serafina was there to take the glass out of his hand. She smelled it and held it out. “It smells of bitter almonds, Grant; almost certainly it’s cyanide.”
Grant smelled the wine and then he had a strange look on his face. “I don’t know how to handle this. The woman’s obviously not responsible.”
“What’s wrong?” Trevor asked. “What do you mean cyanide? Poison?”
“Yes.” Serafina turned and studied the old woman, who had grown very quiet. “We discovered that your husband, Leslie, and his first wife, Edith, were both poisoned. You did it, didn’t you, Lady Leona?”
Leona had been babbling before the trio had entered, but now she had grown very still. She whispered, “She took him from me—but I had my revenge—oh, yes.” Suddenly she blinked and looked around with astonishment. It was, they all realized, another one of those abrupt changes. She was staring at the glass in Serafina’s hand and then turned to look at Trevor. “Trevor, you’re here.”
“Well, yes, you asked me in.”
“Did I?”
Grant said to Serafina, “What can we do?”
“I’m not sure, but whatever happens will not be pleasant.”
“It’s going to be hard on Arthur.”
Grant pulled his shoulders together in an irresolute manner, and his lips grew thin. He said, “Lady Leona Hayden, I’ll have to arrest you for the murder of Charles Crinshaw and also under suspicion of the murder of your husband and his wife Edith.”
The words fell from his lips and a sudden silence filled the room, a heavy, ominous silence. Suddenly Lady Leona said faintly, “I must—I must lie down for a moment. Could I do that, Superintendent?”
“Yes, of course. Serafina, would you help Lady Leona?”
Serafina came forward, took Leona’s arm, and guided her to the door that entered the bedroom. She led the old woman to the bed, and Leona turned and sat down on it. Serafina reached down and lifted her legs and then helped her lie back on the bed.
“I loved Leslie,” she said in a strange monotone, “but he didn’t love me. Isn’t that terrible when you love someone and they don’t love you back?”
“It’s very hard,” Serafina murmured. “You just lie there for a moment and rest while I go have a word with Superintendent Grant.”
“I loved him, and he didn’t love me,” Lady Leona said. Serafina stared at the woman’s face. She had killed three people beyond doubt, and yet there was a pathetic quality to her. Perhaps all mentally unbalanced people have it. Without a word Serafina walked outside. The three men turned to look at her.
“It’s going to be terrible for Arthur,” Serafina said.
“Who’s going to tell him?” Dylan asked.
“I suppose I’ll have to do it,” Grant sighed. “It’s the bad part of being a policeman.”
“There’s no easy way. No matter how he hears it, or who he hears it from, it’s going to break his hear
t,” Serafina said. “He really loves his mother, and I think he was the only thing on this earth that she really loved—except, perhaps, for Leslie and Gervase. Poor, poor woman.”
“Will you stay here with her, you two, while I go tell Arthur, and then I’ll have to go tell Lord Darby.”
Grant turned and left without another word, and Trevor was pale. “I never ’eard of anything like this.”
“You know, I’ve seen death on the battlefield,” Dylan said. “That was bad enough, but somehow it was—I don’t know how to say it—different from the deaths of murdered people, especially those poisoned by one they trusted. I can’t imagine what’s going to happen to her.”
“Will there be a trial, you think?” Trevor asked.
“There’ll have to be some kind of legal action. The woman is guilty of murder.”
“But she’s crazy. Crazy people, they don’t know what they’re doing.”
“The law doesn’t look at it like that, I’m afraid,” Serafina said. Her mind was already working, and she said, “I’ll have to get to Sir Leo Roth. He’s the best barrister in England. He’ll help her if she can be helped.” The three stood there talking for some time in a low voice, and then Serafina said, “I’ll go sit beside her until Grant gets back.”
She turned and walked into the room and at once uttered a cry. Dylan rushed in and looked over her shoulder with Trevor right behind him. They saw Lady Leona Hayden not on the bed but crumpled in a small heap beside her vanity table. There was a bottle before her, a small brown bottle, and Serafina rushed over to it. She smelled it and shook her head. “Pure cyanide! It must have killed her instantly.”
“Shall I put her on the bed, Serafina?”
“No, leave things just as they are,” Serafina said. “Grant will need to make careful notes. She reached out and touched the woman’s silvery hair. “Poor creature,” she said. “She saw what was coming, I think, and couldn’t bear it. I can’t blame her too much.” She rose and said, “I’ll stay here with her.”
A Conspiracy of Ravens Page 28
