Crystal Gardens (36 page)

“Because the law recognizes them as George’s offspring? I am well aware of that. But you know the truth. You can cut them off without a qualm when they marry and tell yourself that you owe them nothing.”

“That will not happen.”

“You have waited all these years to have your revenge on me for the lies I have had to live all these years. Your father was away in Egypt when the twins were born. He never showed in any way that he was suspicious that the children were not his.”

“Father had very little interest in any of his children,” Lucas said.

“True enough. But your grandfather always suspected the truth. I could tell. I’m certain that is why he made certain that everything was left to you.”

Lucas turned completely around to face her. “None of this matters. You can stop torturing yourself with your fears. Within a week after I inherited my grandfather’s estate, I drew up papers to ensure that in the event anything happened to me, you and Tony and Beth would receive the bulk of the family fortune.”

Judith looked at him in disbelief. “Why would you be so generous when you know they are not related to you by blood?”

“Because it doesn’t matter,” he said. “How many times must I repeat myself? Beth is my sister and Tony is my brother. They will always be my sister and brother. I assure you they have been provided for in my will. You have been taken care of as well. Trust me when I tell you that none of you will end up on the streets.”

Judith looked disconcerted. After a few seconds a faint hope lit her face. “I want to believe you.”

“I know you do not think highly of me, but have you ever known me to lie to you or to Tony or to Beth?”

Judith bit her lip. “No.”

“Then, for the sake of your sanity and your nerves, I hope you will believe me now.”

“I do not know how to thank you,” Judith whispered.

“There is no need. You and Beth and Tony are family. That is all that matters.”

“Miss Ames said that you would feel this way.”

A brisk knock sounded on the door. Grateful for the interruption, Lucas went back behind his desk.

“Come in, Evangeline,” he said. “I think Judith and I are finished.” He looked at Judith. “Or was there something else?”

“No,” Judith said. She rallied. “There is nothing else.”

The door opened. Evangeline smiled. “Are you sure I’m not interrupting anything important?”

“Not at all.” Judith gave her a tremulous smile. “I’m on my way upstairs to pack. I have decided to return to London with Florence in the morning. Our maids will accompany us, of course.”

“Leaving so soon?” Evangeline said.

“Beth and Tony find the place fascinating, but neither Florence nor I have ever been comfortable here at Crystal Gardens.” Judith went toward the door. “Beth’s presence is quite sufficient to satisfy the proprieties. If you will both excuse me?”

“Certainly,” Evangeline said.

Lucas hesitated and then made his decision. “Judith, there is one thing you might want to know.”

Judith tensed, wary and fearful again. “What is it?”

“I investigated Bancroft’s death. It may give you some satisfaction to know that the news accounts got it wrong. But, then, that is often the case.”

“I don’t understand,” Judith said.

“Bancroft did not die of natural causes. Someone killed him.”

“Are you certain?” she asked.

“There was never any doubt.”

Judith drew a deep breath. “So I owe a common street criminal for delivering the justice that society would never have given me.”

“That is certainly one way of looking at it,” Lucas said.

Judith raised her chin. “I hope he died in pain.”

“He did. I promise you, he knew fear before he knew death.”

Judith nodded once. A great calm settled on her. She looked both weary and relieved. “Thank you, Lucas. You have given me a fine gift today, one I will always be grateful for, but Beth and Tony must never know about Bancroft.”

“They will not hear of him from me,” he said. “I give you my word. But I have known Beth and Tony all of their lives. I am convinced that they are quite capable of dealing with the truth. In my opinion, they have a right to it. And knowing those two, sooner or later they will discover it, in any event. It would be best if they heard it from you first.

Evangeline looked at Judith. “I agree. Beth and Tony are very impressive, very admirable young people. They are strong enough to handle the facts of their birth. As Lucas said, they have a right to those facts. They will understand why you did what you did.”

Judith sighed. “You know the truth, as well, don’t you? You are aware that Beth and Tony are not my husband’s offspring.”

“Lucas said nothing on the subject but my intuition told me that might be the case,” Evangeline said. “It explained so much, you see.”

Judith was quiet for a long moment. Then she took a deep breath. “Perhaps you are both correct.” She looked at Lucas. “You are right when you say that Beth and Tony are strong. What is more, they owe much of their inner strength and character to you. I can see that now.”

“Do not discount your own courage and your determination to protect your children, Judith,” Lucas said. “Beth and Tony received a great deal of their strong will and character from you.”

Judith gave Evangeline a tremulous smile. “Thank you for encouraging me to speak to Lucas today. I feel as if a crushing weight has been lifted from my heart.”

She went out into the hall and closed the door very quietly behind her.

Evangeline looked at Lucas. “Obviously you were able to reassure her.”

“I did my best. But she has spent nearly twenty years working her nerves into this state. It may take time for her to accept that I have no
interest in avenging myself on her and certainly not by depriving Beth and Tony of what is theirs by right.”

“For her part, as a young woman she must have felt hopelessly trapped with no way out.”

“When did you deduce the truth?” Lucas asked.

“Almost immediately. As I told Judith, it explained much about the past.”

“Your intuition is better than mine, at least in this matter. I had always been certain that she was pregnant when she married my father but I assumed that she had a lover who, for some reason, could not marry her. It took me much longer to realize that she had been raped.” Lucas picked up the sterling silver letter opener and balanced it on two fingers. “Her attacker was an older, married man who moved in society.”

“I’m astonished that she confided such a secret to you.”

“She told me the truth today but I actually stumbled across it five years ago. I picked up some old rumors in the course of a case I was investigating. A young prostitute had been badly abused and nearly killed by a gentleman client. She was not the first. The brothel madam asked my acquaintance at Scotland Yard to investigate. He’d had his suspicions of Bancroft for years but there was nothing he could do because of Bancroft’s status in society.”

“So your friend at the Yard asked you to look into the matter?”

“Yes. I broke into Bancroft’s library and found his journals. He had very carefully recorded the details of what he called his conquests. He did not bother to list the prostitutes he had abused. But the names and descriptions of the women he considered respectable were all there. Over the years any number of governesses, hired companions and young women from families that had no social power had fallen victim to him.”

“You found Judith’s name on the list?”

“Yes.”

Evangeline made a small fist. “I am glad you were able to assure her that he died by violent means.”

Lucas raised his brows. “That sounds a bit bloodthirsty, Miss Ames.”

“Yes, it does, doesn’t it? It was the fact that there was no justice for her all those years ago, to say nothing of the trauma she experienced and the price she paid that has been the real source of her inner turmoil all along, not you and your talent. She fixed on you as the source of her fear because she sensed that you knew her most closely held secret.”

Lucas set the letter opener down with great care. “I did not tell her everything about Bancroft’s death.”

“You told her enough. The important thing for Judith is that Bancroft paid for what he did to her. There was no need to tell her that you are the one who was responsible for his death.”

Lucas stilled. “You guessed that, as well?”

“I know you. I know what you would have done after you found Judith’s name on the list.”

“I made sure that Bancroft understood at the end exactly why he was going to die. He had some difficulty grasping the fact that I would kill him because of what he had done to a woman years earlier.”

Evangeline walked to Lucas and put her arms around him. “You explained things to Bancroft, I trust?”

Lucas folded her close against his heart. “I told him that he had committed a crime against my family and that he was going to pay the price.”

“Of course,” Evangeline said.

T
he dark, seething energy struck Beatrice’s senses like a wave of icy water. She caught her breath and stopped just inside the front hall of the town house. She stared at the foot of the stairs.

“Clarissa,” she said. Shock tightened her voice to a mere whisper.

“What is it?” Clarissa closed the front door of the town house and looked at her. “You sense something? What’s wrong?”

“He was here.” Beatrice turned quickly to face her. “Right here in our house.”

“Who was here?”

“The actor, Garrett Willoughby. This is the same energy I sensed in his dressing room not more than an hour ago.”

The old man sweeping the floor of the theater had demanded a sizable bribe in exchange for allowing them into Willoughby’s dressing
room, but Mrs. Fitch and Mrs. Marsh had made it clear that money was no object in the investigation.

“He must have been watching this house,” Clarissa said. “He would have seen our housekeeper leave to visit her sister earlier this morning. He waited until we left and then he broke in.”

Rage and panic arced through Beatrice, bringing back memories of her dreadful time in Dr. Fleming’s Academy of the Occult. She suppressed the past with an effort of will and forced herself to stay focused on the immediate threat.

“He was searching this place while we were asking after him at the theater this morning,” she said.

“So much for the story that he sailed for America in search of new opportunities,” Clarissa said. “But what did he hope to find here? He obviously knows that Evangeline is in Little Dixby. He sent Hobson there to murder her at the cottage.”

“He must have hoped to find something he could use against Evangeline.”

“But what could that be?”

“I don’t know,” Beatrice said. “But we must find out.”

A great sense of urgency was beating at her. She whirled around, grasped handfuls of her skirts and flew up the staircase. Clarissa followed her.

“For heaven’s sake, have a care,” Clarissa said. “He may still be in the house.”

Beatrice elevated her senses and shook her head. “No, he is gone now.”

They stopped on the landing and looked down the hallway. Beatrice saw the telltale traces of energy on the doorknobs.

“He was searching for Evangeline’s room,” she said. “He found it. He left the door open.”

They walked quickly to the open door and looked into the bedroom. There was no sign that anything had been disturbed. The bed was still neatly made. The wardrobe and the drawers in the small writing desk were closed.

“He was here,” Beatrice said. “I can sense it. He searched this room, I think, but what was he looking for? What did he find?”

“He was looking for her secrets,” Clarissa said.

Beatrice did not question that assessment. Clarissa knew more than most people did about secrets and how they could be used against a woman. She had, after all, been obliged to invent a new life, indeed an entire new identity, for herself.

“Well, he would not have found Evie’s greatest secrets,” Beatrice said. Relief cascaded through her. “I’m sure she was not so foolish as to set them down in her journal. In any event, she took her journal with her.”

Clarissa walked to the desk and started opening drawers. She stopped when she saw Evangeline’s small, neatly organized file of correspondence.

“He found something useful here,” she said.

“But Evie has very few correspondents.” Beatrice hurried across the room. “She has no family or friends, except us.”

“That does not mean that she doesn’t send and receive letters.” Clarissa reached into the file and plucked out a small handful of papers. She spread them out on the desk. “Here is her correspondence dealing with the rental of the cottage in Little Dixby, for example. There is also a note from her dressmaker informing her that her new gown is finished and ready to be delivered.”

Beatrice flipped through some more papers. “I remember this note from the bookshop in Oxford Street letting her know that the new novel she requested had arrived.”

There were several more letters of a similar nature but Beatrice knew
when they found the correspondence that mattered. The dark currents of energy seething on the pages were unmistakable. Clarissa sensed it at the same time.