The Butterfly Conspiracy

by Vivian Conroy

  “Anne told me so often,” the old woman said, “Miss Merula is different from the others. Miss Julia doesn’t see me. But Miss Merula does.”

  “Julia does see the servants, too,” Merula protested, but inside she knew Julia mainly saw them as convenient presences to do chores for her and make her life easier. She doubted if Julia had ever wondered how they lived, what they did on their days off, or what kind of future they had. To defend her cousin, she said, “Julia has just led a very sheltered life, and she can’t imagine how it would be outside of that. But she is never cruel to the servants.”

  Mrs. Lamb nodded. “I heard from other families whose girls are in service that the mistress beats them with a ruler on the fingers when they are too slow. One girl broke her hand and couldn’t work any longer. But that is not the mistress’s problem.”

  She sounded bitter.

  Merula said, “Aunt Emma would never beat anyone, let alone a girl.”

  “Still, she wouldn’t agree to Anne going out at night,” Mrs. Lamb said. “You make that possible, and Cook. I’ll help you. No matter what the police are after.”

  She nodded firmly. “But my house is too small for all these men.” She cast them a disapproving look. “Back there’s a warehouse for wood. You can sleep in the attic. Lord or no lord.”

  Raven made a mock bow. “I’m much obliged.”

  A knock sounded at the door. They all froze. Merula’s heart seemed to skip a beat, then thundered on.

  Mrs. Lamb went to the door to ask, “Who’s there?”

  “Me, Mother. Who else?”

  Mrs. Lamb opened the door, and Anne stepped in. Seeing Merula, she raised her hands to her face and cried, “Miss Merula! I was just thinking about you. Wondering how you were.”

  “I need a place to stay, Anne,” Merula said quietly, “and your mother has let us in. How is Aunt Emma?”

  “At first she was in bed, crying all the time, but today she let a lawyer come. Heartwell listened at the door to hear what they were talking about.”

  Mrs. Lamb shook her head in disapproval. “Butlers always think they’re entitled to know what their masters are involved in. But they’re no better than other servants.”

  Ignoring her mother’s comments, Anne continued, “Heartwell came to the kitchen afterwards, and he told us, after Cook asked him several times, that the mistress was certain Lord Havilock was involved in the death at the lecture and that the lawyer had told her it would be hard to do anything about Lord Havilock because he had powerful friends and wasn’t easy to touch. He even suggested that the master should plead guilty to the charges and hope he would not be condemned to die.”

  “What?” Merula clutched her hands to her chest. She felt queasy. “Plead guilty of murder? Of course they will never let him live. How could they if they believe he killed a lady? Will this lawyer not do anything else? How about Newbury and the others who have a claim against Foxwell to get specimens back? If they take legal action, surely that must prove that others had a motive to murder Lady Sophia.”

  “I don’t know anything about that,” Anne said with sad eyes. “After the lawyer left, the mistress cried her heart out. She even talked about leaving London.”

  “Fleeing the scandal.” Merula understood. “But if she leaves, it will be as if she also believes Uncle Rupert is guilty.” She stared at Anne. “Does she believe that?”

  Anne shook her head. “I don’t think so. Miss Julia does not believe it for certain. She asked me to tell you something.” Her sad eyes acquired a glimmer of hope. “I’m so happy you are here, Miss. Now I can tell you right away. Miss Julia didn’t want to write it down so I could give it to you. She said that it should not become known widely.”

  Anne hesitated.

  Merula said, “I’m sure none of us will talk about it unless we have to, for the case.”

  Anne nodded. “She said to tell you Mr. Foxwell does not have money of his own. That he lied about that. She was quite cross about it. And she cried too. I don’t know what for.”

  For seeing her hopes dashed that Foxwell had honestly liked her, Merula thought. Julia was smart enough to work out that if Foxwell had lied about his fortune, he had also lied about other things.

  For a moment, Merula thought of Miss Knight, the companion, and Foxwell’s tale to Julia that the woman had wanted a relationship with him but not he with her, naturally.

  Had he lied about that too?

  Had he first flirted with Miss Knight, perhaps even taken certain liberties, and then dropped her and thought up the missing earring to have her dismissed, removed from the household?

  Some men seemed to think they were entitled to do with their servants whatever they wanted.

  “Did Julia say anything about Miss Knight?” she asked Anne. “Lady Sophia’s companion?”

  “No, not now. But I do know she doesn’t like her. Once, a few weeks ago, she asked Heartwell all kinds of questions about her.”

  “Heartwell knows Miss Knight?” Merula asked in surprise.

  Anne shrugged. “Heartwell seems to know everybody. Miss Julia wanted to know how long she had worked for Lady Sophia and if she was beautiful and accomplished. Heartwell said she played the piano well and spoke French. Miss Julia didn’t like that at all.”

  Merula suppressed a smile. Julia hated French and had never managed to learn to speak it well, although she could read it a little. Julia also neglected to spend time on the piano as Aunt Emma demanded, saying she played well enough not to make a fool out of herself if she was asked to play something at a party. But Aunt Emma reiterated often that Julia could be much better at music or languages if she only invested the time now spent on Regent Street buying hats or meeting with friends to take tea and gossip. Usually oblivious to her mother’s censure of her frivolous pastimes, Julia must now have felt that a simple companion was ahead of her in accomplishments. No wonder she had been cross.

  She asked Anne, “Did Julia see Miss Knight as competition for Foxwell’s favors?”

  Anne shrugged. “It’s not for me to say, Miss. But Heartwell joked to the footmen that Miss Knight was moving up in the world, or at least that she wanted to, and they seemed to think it was very funny.”

  “So maybe she did want Foxwell,” Merula mused.

  Raven shook his head. “She can want anybody she sets eyes on, but the other party has to accept her. And I can’t see Foxwell becoming engaged to his aunt’s companion. Not even if Miss Knight had been ten times more beautiful and enticing.”

  Merula had to agree with him there. “But what if she put pressure on him because of something she knew? Something related to the zoological collection?”

  “Blackmail to get him to marry her?” Raven asked with a dubious expression. “I’d sooner think he would have killed her then, if she was such a threat to him. Besides, she told us freely about his supposed sales from the collection. If she used that knowledge to put pressure on him, she’d have kept it to herself.”

  “I suppose so.” Merula sighed. She smiled at Anne. “Give my love to Julia and tell her I’m doing everything I can to clear Uncle Rupert. Tell her I’ve made progress. Also tell her to be careful. When we met at the exhibition, someone was near us who doesn’t wish us well.”

  Anne’s eyes went wide. “How do you know that? What happened, Miss?”

  “The details don’t matter. Just tell Julia to be careful. And if she can, to persuade my aunt not to leave London. We might be able to clear Uncle Rupert soon.”

  Anne nodded. “That is good news indeed, Miss.” She turned to her mother. “You should be in bed. I’ll get the guests settled in.” She leaned down and kissed her. “You’re cold. Get into bed now.”

  As the old woman shuffled off, Merula said apologetically, “We’re sorry to have disturbed her. But there’s nowhere we can go. The police also turned up at our other hiding places.”

  “They’ll not come here,” Anne said with confidence. “They think there’s disease here. A fever took some
sailors last week. Their bodies have been burned to prevent it from spreading.” She shivered. “I wonder, if they burn your body, if you can still feel it.”

  Galileo said, “It’s an interesting question if there’s sensation after death. When the soul leaves the body, does that mean the body can’t feel anymore? Blood circulation has stopped. Dead bodies don’t bruise. But if that also means that the dead can’t feel anything…”

  “Please stop talking like that,” Merula said. “The poor girl won’t dare walk back to the house later with such talk.”

  Galileo looked hurt. “I’m merely posing it as a scientific problem.”

  Raven said, “Yes, well, pose it at some other time.” He said to Anne, “Your mother said we can’t sleep in this house and must go to a warehouse for wood at the back?”

  Anne nodded. “I’ll take you.” She gestured to them to follow her.

  Raven winked at Merula. “You’ll get a bed, I’m sure. For us it will be a hard floor. But at least we’re still free. Take heart, and we’ll continue in the morning.”

  She smiled at him, then, as they were gone, wrapped her arms around herself and sighed. She was bone weary, and her head was full of all the information they had collected over the day. Had Miss Knight been in love with Foxwell? Had she first tried to win him, then put pressure on him somehow? Had he spurned her anyway? Had Miss Knight then killed Lady Sophia with the fan, hoping that Foxwell, as the heir benefiting from the death, would be blamed for it and would be tried and hanged?

  It was a bitter revenge for being rejected, but who knew how bitter Miss Knight had become during her long years of serving Lady Sophia?

  Perhaps the wrongful accusation of theft had driven her over the edge. Had made her decide to punish them both for treating her so shamefully?

  And there was Havilock, with his need to sell part of his collection but the inability to get his prize pieces back from Lady Sophia. His threat to her, referring back to a violent incident in India. A man who liked to assert himself when he felt cheated.

  But how would he have had access to the fan?

  And Foxwell, such a clever manipulator of people, not afraid of telling a convenient lie to get his way. If he had been able to sell off zoological items without Lady Sophia knowing about it, he need not have killed her for money.

  Unless he had grown tired of getting a little here and there and had wanted it all, without having to wait for her natural death. Once Lady Sophia was out of the way, he would also have been free to marry whomever he wanted, without having to endure Lady Sophia’s censure of his choices and the fear that she would disinherit him if he didn’t do what she asked.

  Disinherit … Was it possible Lady Sophia had been about to cut him from her will? Could they find out about that?

  Anne came back in. She frowned. “Can a lord really sleep on the floor?”

  “I’m sure Raven won’t suffer any ill effects from a night or two on the floor,” Merula assured her. “He isn’t spoiled like some others. In fact, I think he quite enjoys this whole investigation.”

  “They say he is a troublemaker. You have to be careful around him.” Anne seemed to want to say more but feel awkward about it.

  Merula smiled at her. “You may speak your mind, Anne.”

  “Your aunt would have a fit if she knew you were here staying with my mother. And traveling in the company of men without a companion. You are not titled, so it doesn’t matter like it would for Miss Julia, who has to marry a duke or an earl, but…” Anne wrung her hands. “It isn’t proper. There will be talk about it.”

  “Anne…” Merula reached out and touched the girl’s arm. “My uncle is in prison. How much talk do you think there is about that? We are just about ruined. I have to do everything I can to prove his innocence. I can’t sit at home with Aunt Emma and wait until somebody else does something. Besides, the police are looking for me too, because of my involvement with the butterfly.”

  “You shouldn’t have brought them to England, Miss. All of these foreign animals. They must stay where they are.”

  “But don’t you want to learn about them? Discover new and fascinating things about them?”

  “Like how they kill people?” Anne shivered. “I’m glad they destroyed the insects with fire. I would be afraid to work in the house knowing they were still there.”

  Merula bit her lip. She couldn’t understand how Anne could want her butterflies dead, but on the other hand, she could understand the servants’ fear of the unknown and of the idea that death had lived so close to them and could have struck out at them as well.

  She said, “Other people are not allowed to burn my uncle’s property, Anne. They should not have done that.”

  “Perhaps not, but they only tried to help us.” Anne looked at her. “I’m sorry for you, Miss, and for your uncle. But if the butterfly killed Lady Sophia, it had to die as well. Like a rabid dog.”

  “It did not kill Lady Sophia. We know how she died. Just not who did it.” Merula held Anne’s gaze. Galileo had been worried Anne could not be trusted. That she had given away information about her whereabouts earlier. She asked softly, “Did you know where I was staying earlier? Did Bowsprit tell you when he asked you to fetch my clothes?”

  “No, he was very emphatic that no one should know. Making himself important, I wager.” Anne looked hurt. “I would never tell anyone where you were, Miss. Not even for money. That newspaper man offered me money, but I said no.”

  Merula widened her eyes. “A newspaper man asking for me?”

  “Yes. He didn’t look like he could write a very good story, though. He was snooping everywhere. I saw him several times when I was out on errands.”

  Merula thought about this. Had someone pretending to be with some newspaper and offering money for information somehow discovered that she was staying with Galileo? Had that same person followed them to Raven Manor? Did it have to do with the mysterious butterfly conspiracy?

  She was relieved that Anne hadn’t know about her whereabouts and could not have betrayed them, not even accidentally. Smiling warmly, she said, “Please believe me when I say that someone wanted to kill Lady Sophia and used an ingenious method to do it. It had nothing to do with the lecture, the butterfly, my uncle, or me. Lady Sophia died at the lecture, yes, but if she had gone to the opera that night, she would have died there and people there would have been suspected.”

  “I don’t understand,” Anne said in a trembling voice. “What killed her then?”

  “Her own fan.”

  Anne blinked. “Her fan?”

  “Yes. I can’t explain it all now, but her fan was treated with poison and Lady Sophia inhaled the poison and died. We have to find out who put the poison on the fan.”

  Anne shuddered. “I had no idea such things could happen. What is the world coming to?”

  Merula gave her an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, Anne. Lord Royston will help me solve it. And perhaps you and your mother and your friends here in the neighborhood can help as well. We are looking for Lady Sophia’s cook. A Mrs. Bridgewater who worked for her at her country estate until about three years ago. She was dismissed after an incident at a party. We’d very much like to talk to her about this incident. It might help us discover who killed Lady Sophia.”

  Merula was not about to reveal they suspected the cook herself of involvement. “If your friends here know Mrs. Bridgewater, it would be very good if we could meet her without her knowing in advance what it is about. We’d like to hear her memories without them having been influenced. You know how it goes. Things in your mind change when others have told you their thoughts about it.”

  “Yes, Miss. I’d be happy to help. Now you must go to bed. You look so tired. I’ll show you where you can sleep, and then I’ll go back to the house. Cook warned me not to stay away too long. She says we have enough trouble as it is.”

  “And so we do,” Merula muttered as she followed Anne to find her place for the night.<
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  CHAPTER 15

  The next morning, Merula freshened up with the cold water in the jug left on the windowsill and made sure her dress looked its best. Going down, she found the room empty and decided to take a look outside. At the butcher’s, the windows were wide open, and a voice shouted from the inside, followed by the sound of a hand striking flesh.

  Merula flinched and hoped it was the man at work with the dead meat, not a living being, least of all a human child.

  She smelled fresh bread and walked down the narrow street to detect where the scent came from. An old woman came walking up to her, laboring with a bucket full of coal. When she was ten feet away, the bucket’s handle broke and it tumbled over, spilling the coal into the street. The old woman cried out, and Merula went over at once to steady her. “Don’t worry,” she said quickly. “I will gather it again.”

  She leaned down and picked up the pieces of coal, putting them back into the bucket.

  The old woman watched her in mute surprise.

  When the bucket was full again, Merula wiped her dirty hands together. Without a handle, it would be difficult to carry. She could lift it and hold it against her, but it would ruin her dress.

  “Let me do that!” a voice called, and a cheeky lad of about fourteen appeared by her side. He gave her an appreciative look and picked up the bucket as if it weighed nothing.

  The old woman pursed her lips. “If you had seen the bucket fall, James Jones,” she snorted, “you would have put as much coal as you could under that shirt of yours instead of helping me gather it again.”

  James pulled a repentant face. “Cold porridge is hateful,” he said, “full of lumps.”

  “Can’t afford no coal again,” the old woman concluded, shaking her head.

  The boy carried the bucket for her, Merula by his side to watch that he didn’t take any from it. As they reached the old woman’s home, no more than a door and a single boarded-up window squeezed in between two bigger houses, the boy put the bucket down in her hallway.

  To Merula’s surprise, the old woman took two coals from the top and gave them to him. “You find some firewood to go with this, James, and then your little sisters can have a warm breakfast.”