Crystal Gardens (32 page)

He shoved his shirttails into his pants, savoring the pleasant sense of relaxation and satisfaction that had come over him. A man could become accustomed to this sort of thing.
No
, he thought,
a man could become addicted
.

Evangeline did up the front of her bodice. “The scents in here are quite lovely. I can see why Mrs. Buckley enjoyed her little sideline.”

“Her products were certainly popular with the visitors.” Lucas motioned toward a doorway. “That was her stillroom.”

“My mother had a stillroom.” Evangeline went to stand in the doorway of the adjoining room. “I remember as a little girl I loved to watch her prepare tonics and remedies for sore throats, fever and the like. She was quite skilled. I think in a more enlightened era she could have been a chemist.”

Lucas moved to stand behind Evangeline. He looked into the second room. Moonlight spilled through the window, illuminating a workbench littered with glass beakers, small pots and a burner. A chill of knowing aroused his senses. He heightened his talent.

Dark energy glowed on the workbench and on the floor.

“Lucas?” Evangeline stirred uneasily. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I think I know how my uncle was murdered. She used poison. She concocted it here in this stillroom.”

“Mrs. Buckley?”

“Yes.”

“Are you certain?” Evangeline asked.

“It does explain why she left town in such a great rush and why she never came around for her pension.”

“But why on earth would she murder your uncle after having worked for him all those years?” Evangeline asked. “You said they were lovers.”

“I can’t tell you why she killed him, not yet, but one thing is clear from the energy near the workbench.”

“What?”

“Mrs. Buckley was in a great rage when she distilled the poison.”

I
realize that your relationships with your family are your own business and none of my affair,” Evangeline said. “Nevertheless, I am compelled to offer you some advice.”

“I have the impression that you are frequently compelled to offer your opinion to others,” Lucas said.

“I think of it as one of my more endearing traits.”

“‘Endearing’ would not be the first word that comes to mind to describe that particular characteristic. What is it you feel you need to tell me?”

They were sitting at the table on the terrace, drinking glasses of lemonade that Molly had brought out for them. It was mid-afternoon. Judith and Florence had retreated upstairs. Beth and Tony were in the library. Beth was scouring the household accounts that she had unearthed in Mrs. Buckley’s old bedroom. Tony had found some tools in Chester’s laboratory and was using them to take apart the lantern weapon.

“I am concerned about your strained relationship with Judith,” Evangeline said.

“It is not your affair, Evangeline.”

“I realize that, but you must see that Judith’s primary concern is for her son and daughter. Beth is her priority at the moment because she feels she must get Beth safely married off this year.”

“There shouldn’t be any problem. Beth attracts suitors like flies.”

“Judith has convinced herself that you will deprive your sister of her inheritance after she marries. She also fears that you are deliberately fostering Beth’s connection to Charles Rushton precisely because you are aware of the sad state of his finances.”

Lucas’s mouth curved faintly in a grim smile. “In other words, I will crush Beth’s future and leave her penniless in order to avenge myself on Judith.”

“I do realize that is not your intention,” Evangeline said. She sipped some lemonade and put down the glass. “But you might want to make that clear to Judith.”

“Why bother? She won’t believe me. She thinks I’m mad. She has from the beginning.”

“The two of you certainly got off on the wrong foot all those years ago, didn’t you?”

“There was no right way,” Lucas said, “not for either of us.”

“I don’t understand.”

“No,” Lucas said, “you don’t. And all I am going to tell you is that I won’t let Beth make the same mistake Judith made.”

“The mistake of marrying a much older man because of parental pressure?”

“Something along those lines, yes.” Lucas put down his glass and got to his feet. “I think it’s time to find out if we can get into the third pool room.”

“You are trying to distract me.”

“Is my cunning plan working?”

“It certainly is.” She jumped to her feet. “But it is only three o’clock in the afternoon. You said that most of the garden’s secrets are concealed during the daylight hours.”

“That’s true. But other things are sometimes more clearly revealed.”

She glanced toward the house. “Should we tell someone what we are about?”

“No need. I informed Stone earlier that I intended to go back into the garden today. He will keep an eye on things.”

“You are wondering if the Roman gold is hidden in that third room, aren’t you?”

“You are the one who said that the secrets concealed inside are old.”

“No, I said the energy sealing the entrance is ancient. I have no way of knowing what is inside the chamber because I had nothing to use to help me focus.”

“You didn’t know what you were looking for at the time,” Lucas said. “Now you do.”

“It doesn’t work quite like that. If it did I would long ago have dug up my own hoard of Roman gold, believe me. I thought I explained, my psychical sensitivity is linked to my sense of touch. I need some connection to the object I am searching for, something to help me obtain a focus.”

“Let’s see what we can find.” He walked toward the shed. “But first we’ll pick up a few items that may prove useful.”

The thrill of the mystery whispered to her senses. She rushed to follow him.

“There is only one more thing I would point out, Lucas,” she said.

“I knew it.” He did not pause. “You simply can’t resist this compulsion, can you?”

“Sorry, no.” She collected her skirts and broke into a brisk trot to keep up with him. “The one final point I wish to make is that at least
you have a few relatives to contend with. I can tell you from personal experience that there are worse things than having a difficult family.”

He stopped at that and turned back to face her, comprehension shadowing his eyes. “That would be having no family at all? You may be correct, although there are times when I would disagree with you.”

“Come now, you know perfectly well that you are very fond of Beth and Tony.”

“On occasion.”

She smiled. “I have seen the three of you together. You are quite close.”

He shrugged. “We are family.”

“Exactly.”

He frowned. “But I see now that I had not considered the matter from your perspective.”

“Does that mean that you will now condescend to listen to my advice on how to deal with Judith?”

He raised a hand and smoothed a few stray tendrils of her hair back behind her ears. The energy of desire stirred the atmosphere around them. He kissed her forehead, a light, glancing, casually possessive kiss that marked her as his in a thousand indescribable ways.

“I will listen, but I will most likely ignore it,” he said.

He moved on to the shed.

She followed quickly. “I was afraid of that. Has anyone ever told you that you are an exceedingly stubborn man?”

“I believe you yourself may have mentioned it on occasion. I recall the word ‘cork-brained’ was employed.”

“I apologized.”

“That does not mean that I will allow you to forget the remark.” He stopped in front of the windowless shed, opened the door and moved into the dark space. When he reappeared he had two pairs of heavy
leather gardening gloves in his hand. He gave her one pair. “Put those on. They’ll provide some protection.”

He went back into the shed while she did as he had instructed. The gloves were far too large and the thick leather made her feel clumsy.

Lucas emerged from the shed again, buckling a wide leather belt low on his hips. Two knife sheaths, one quite large, the other much smaller, hung from the belt. He must have seen the curiosity in her eyes.

“The small blade is for taking specimen samples,” he explained. “The larger one is called a machete. Chester brought it back from one of his botanical expeditions. It can slice through some of the foliage in this place.” He glanced at a nearby curtain of orchids. “At least it could the last time I was here.”

“Too bad we did not have that large knife with us last night.”

“I didn’t take it into the maze because it is of little use after dark. The energy in the Night Garden is so powerful at that time that it is nearly impossible to hack through even something that appears as fragile as a cluster of daisies or a bank of ferns.”

She studied the massive iron gate that guarded the entrance of the maze. “Would it be possible to destroy the Night Garden by day?”

“I think one could make some headway by day but it would be slow going.” Lucas took a key out of his pocket and unlocked the gate. “And I’m afraid that what foliage was destroyed in sunlight would most likely regrow overnight.”

“So quickly?”

“The only limitation on the growth of the plants now appears to be the proximity to the paranormal waters of the spring. That was always true, but for some reason, after centuries, the forces at work around the spring are growing more powerful. I must find the cause.”

She watched the gate slowly swing open, revealing the yawning
green mouth of the maze. “Would it perhaps be possible to use strong chemicals to destroy the foliage?”

“Uncle Chester conducted a few experiments to see if the plants could be destroyed with various acids but none were markedly successful.”

“In other words, you may never be able to destroy the Night Garden.”

“Not with any methods that have been tried thus far.” Lucas entered the dark mouth of the maze. He disappeared almost immediately, fading ghostlike into the shadows. “Watch your step. The same rules apply in daylight as at night. Try not to brush against even the most harmless-looking leaf and, whatever you do, don’t scratch yourself on a thorn.”

She paused at the entrance. The currents of energy emanating from the labyrinth were different in the daylight, more subdued but no less ominous. The waves of paranormal power sparked frissons of shuddery awareness across her senses.

She heightened her talent and moved into the intense, primal energy of the maze. Her senses stirred. The foliage sighed and whispered around her.

“It is as if the plants are sleeping now,” she said.

“But no less alive.”

Lucas used the old key to lock the gate. “I don’t want to risk Tony and Beth trying to follow us. They are both endowed with far too much curiosity and sense of adventure.”

She smiled. “In that they take after their older brother.”

Lucas gave her an unreadable look. “Do you think so?”

“Judith told me that you were the closest thing Tony and Beth had to a father. It is obvious you were a good one. They adore you and they admire you.”

“Judith exaggerates,” Lucas said. “She always does.”

His tone was gruff but he sounded oddly pleased, Evangeline thought. There was a note of satisfaction in his voice, paternal satisfaction.

“You will make a very good father to your own children,” she said before she could stop to think.

He looked startled. “I track monsters and sometimes I kill them.”

“Speaking as a former child, I can assure you that is a fine trait in a father. It’s very reassuring to know that Papa can take care of the monsters hiding under the bed.”

Lucas startled her with a soft laugh. She had the feeling that he surprised himself, as well. He slipped the machete out of its sheath.

“Let us be off,” he said.

Evangeline looked around and was relieved to discover that she could perceive the walls and ceiling of the maze as clearly as she had during the night.

“Oh, good,” she said. “We won’t need a lantern.”

“No,” Lucas said.

He walked quickly toward the far end of the corridor. She hesitated a few seconds. It occurred to her that last night she had been wearing only a nightgown and a wrapper but today she was dressed in a tailored shirtwaist gown and low-cut walking boots. The dress was styled with a fairly trim, narrow silhouette, the bustle small and discreet. The hem ended just above her ankles and there was no dust ruffle to sweep the ground. Nevertheless, she did not want to risk having the draped fabric accidentally snag against one of the poisonous thorns.

She collected her skirts in her gloved hands, pulled the folds more snugly around her legs and followed Lucas deeper into the maze.

The lush, verdant energy of the plant life around her sent frisson after frisson across her senses.

“I wonder if this is what it was like at the dawn of creation,” she
whispered, “when the world was new and awash in the raw power of life?”

“That is a question for the poets, not scientists,” Lucas said. “But I’ll agree that there is a lot of power here. You can surely sense how difficult it would be to destroy this garden, root and branch.”

“Yes,” she said. “Furthermore, I think it would be wrong to do so, even if it is possible. This is a wondrous place.”