The Masque of a Murderer (28 page)

At the Whitbys’ door, Lucy raised her fist and struck forcibly at the oak panel. She expected resistance, but instead, to her surprise, the door swung open. Startled, Lucy stepped back, looking behind her at Adam, who was heavily supporting his father on his arm. “How odd,” she said.

Then she found herself pricking up her ears, having caught a strange sound from deep within the interior of the house. It sounded like a terrible weeping, an inarticulate lament that sent shivers up her spine.

“That cannot be praying,” Lucy said, cocking her head. There was no exultant quality to the voice—someone sounded in genuine distress. “Something is wrong.”

Scarcely stopping to think, Lucy went inside. She half expected the magistrate to reprimand her for her bold entry; instead, she found that Adam and the magistrate were directly behind her.

“Let us pray that it is not Sarah,” she heard Master Hargrave mutter to his son.

They moved in cautiously, peering around and seeing no one.

“Upstairs,” Lucy said, moving down the corridor to the stairs.

“Lucy!” Adam said, grabbing her arm. “Let me go first. Please. We do not know what we will find.”

Lucy pressed against the wall so that Adam could ascend the stairs before her. Still, she stayed directly behind him, shuddering a bit as the weeping grew louder.

When they reached the top of the steps, they paused. Lucy pointed to the second door on the right, which was ajar. “That was Jacob Whitby’s chamber,” she whispered. “I think the crying is coming from in there.

Moving swiftly, Adam moved to the chamber door and knocked sharply. The crying abruptly stopped.

Squaring his shoulders, Adam pushed open the door. “What in the world—?”

The magistrate and Lucy moved in then, flanking him on either side. As Adam had done, Lucy could only stare, trying to understand the strange tableau before them.

Ahivah was kneeling on the floor beside Jacob Whitby’s bed, cradling Deborah in her arms. The old Quaker’s white clothes were stained with red, and it was clear from her heavy panting and tear-stained cheeks that she had been the woman they had heard crying.

“Is she dead?” Lucy asked, regaining her senses.

Ahivah just looked at her, a distant expression on her face, clearly in shock.

Lucy knelt beside Deborah and listened to her chest. “She lives,” Lucy said to the others, relieved.

She began to look at the still woman more carefully, trying to determine the source of the blood on Ahivah’s dress. “What is wrong with her?” Lucy asked Ahivah.

The mute woman pointed a shaking finger at a heavy iron candlestick that looked to be covered with blood, which was lying overturned on the floor. “Was she struck with that?” Lucy asked, gently removing Deborah’s cap. “On the head? Who did this to her?”

Ahivah threw up her hands, a moan her only response.

“Let us see if anyone else is here,” she heard Adam say in a low voice to his father.

The two men left the bedchamber, and she could hear them cautiously checking the nearby rooms.

Lucy ran her fingers lightly through Deborah’s hair, exploring a red matted clump on the back of her head. “This seems to be the wound,” she said, looking at her reddened fingers. Without waiting for an answer, she took a small cloth from atop the small table by the bed and pressed it against the woman’s head. She was grateful that she had not needed to tear a strip from her own petticoats; she had ruined several underskirts that way. Indeed, the flow of blood was already subsiding.

“Let us lay her down,” she said gently, taking a pillow from the bed and placing it gently under Deborah’s head.

As she did so, she heard a scuffling in the hallway and several shouts. The next instant, Adam and the magistrate hauled an old woman into the room, each holding her tightly under one arm. Lucy recognized her immediately.

“The searcher!” she cried. “Sadie Burroughs! The one who told Julia Whitby about the murder at the theater! The one who sketches the murder victims!”

“Indeed,” the magistrate said grimly. “Do you know what happened here?”

Mrs. Burroughs tried to break free, but Adam still held her tightly by her forearm.

The magistrate drew himself up. “Did you have something to do with this assault?” he asked sternly. “I demand that you answer me. At once!”

The searcher gave him a surly gaze. “I did not,” she replied. “I can guess who did, though. That woman you call Esther Whitby.”

“Where is she now? Where is my daughter, Sarah? Do you know?” the magistrate asked, trying to keep his calm.

The sound of people running heavily up the stairs kept the searcher from responding. The next instant, Theodora and Sam Leighton appeared breathlessly in the doorway. Seeing the magistrate, they both stopped short, identical looks of shock appearing on their faces.

“W-what—?” Theodora sputtered. “What art thou doing here? I hope thou dost not presume to cease our sister Sarah’s mission on behalf of the Lord.” Evidently her view of Ahivah and her bloodied niece was obstructed by the men standing before her. Jutting out her chin, she continued. “I demand that thou dost leave this home at once. Thou art trespassing, and I shall see thee in jail for this.”

“Madam, I can quite assure you,” the magistrate said, “that whilst I did come here seeking my daughter, I only entered your home at the greatest provocation. We heard a great crying from within, and I was deeply afeared for my daughter’s life.”

He moved aside so that Theodora and her husband could see Deborah lying on the floor and the others huddling around her. The couple stared in shock, their expressions probably much like Lucy’s own had been just minutes before.

“What is going on here?” Theodora said weakly, sagging a bit against her husband. “Pray, what has befallen Deborah?”

“That is what we are trying to determine. She appears to have been struck over the head. By whom, we have yet to ascertain,” the magistrate stated civilly.

“Maybe it was him!” Lucy said, pointing a shaking finger at Sam.

“What?” the Quaker replied, his face taking on such a look of honest confused surprise that Lucy almost felt deterred for a moment. “Why on earth would I strike that woman?” Beside him, Theodora drew herself up like a great bear, growling in anger at Lucy.

“I heard you!” Lucy cried. “The other night, when you were speaking to Gervase, outside this very house. You said that you hoped I would not tell the magistrate. What was it you were concerned about?”

Sam looked more relieved, though still a bit angry. He glanced at the magistrate and then looked away.

The magistrate spoke in his dry fashion. “Were you concerned that Lucy would inform me of conventicles that were transpiring in this home?”

Sam nodded.

“But then Gervase said you had dealt with the searcher. That her evil tongue would be stopped. What did you do to her?” Lucy persisted, rubbing her hand down the front of her face. Something was not making sense in her mind. Certainly Mrs. Burroughs had not been silenced, which she had taken as the meaning underlying Sam’s words to Gervase.

Again Sam looked surprised. “I simply spoke to the old searcher. Thou canst see that she has come to no harm. I told her that she was scaring Esther, and in the name of the Lord, I prayed that she would see fit to leave our sister Esther alone. Gervase was there. He knows that I did not touch that woman, I just bid her to hold her evil tongue.” He looked at the searcher, who, to Lucy’s surprise, nodded, seeming to confirm Sam’s tale. He nodded in return before continuing. “She did stay away then, at least for a while.”

“Why did you purchase those tracts from Master Wilson?” Lucy asked, still feeling desperate.

“The tracts?”

“The ones that you sent to Julia Whitby?” At Sam’s bewildered look, Lucy rattled off their titles.

Sam’s brow cleared. “Oh, I purchased them because they feature Ahivah. I thought she might like them. Perhaps someone took them from her.” His hand began to twitch before he tucked it into his pocket.

At the sight of this tremor, another memory flashed into Lucy’s mind. “Your hand!” she said triumphantly. “Mr. Redicker said that a man with a tremor in his hand had come to see him. To pay him off! You were that man, were you not?”

At last Sam bowed his head. “To this last action, I do admit guilt, and shame as well. I paid that clothier money, mainly to help him regain his trade. One look at the man, I could see that the guilt of the accident was weighing upon him heavily.” He sighed and sat down on a wooden bench. “I thought it best for his sake that he put the accident behind him. I thought the searcher might have even fed him the thought that our Jacob had been murdered, for the vicious woman hounded poor Esther mercilessly.”

“Poor Esther?” The searcher spat, the spittle nearly landing on Adam’s shoe. “Poor bitch, is more like it!”

Lucy looked at Sam. “Except Jacob
was
murdered. He
was
pushed. He told me so himself before he passed.”

“Who did it?” Theodora asked sharply.

“I am thinking now it was Esther Whitby,” Lucy said, with a quick look toward Adam.

Theodora shook her head. “That cannot be so,” she declared. “Esther was with us when we received word of Jacob’s accident.”

The magistrate cleared his throat. “We hope to determine that soon. There are more pressing concerns at the moment. In the meantime, Mr. Leighton,” he said to Sam, who was now looking at them all with a dazed expression on his face. “Pray, I would beg you to be so good as to fetch the constable here, and tell him that we need a physician to attend an injured woman.”

“Right, sir,” Sam replied, unconsciously deferring to the magistrate’s authority. He took off. They heard the front door bang behind him when he left.

The searcher, who had been released by Adam during the last exchange, slowly edged along the wall, as if about to flee. Seeing this, Lucy nudged Adam’s leg.

He stood up and effectively barred the door. “Sit down, if you would,” he said firmly to the searcher. Although his tone was polite, there was an iron quality to his request. “You too, if you would, Mrs. Leighton.”

Instead of taking a chair, Theodora knelt down next to Lucy and took Deborah’s hand. Ahivah had resumed crying, although her moaned lament was nothing like the loud tears that had been pouring forth when they first entered the house.

“First,” the magistrate demanded, “tell me where my daughter is.”

Theodora licked her lips. “Truth be told, I expected them to still be here when we returned from market. Sam and I went to buy some victuals for the long journey of our dear friends. I cannot tell thee what happened in the last hour that brought all this about. Thy daughter, it seems, has been called to the wilderness of the New World. Do not despair,” she said. “Sarah is an instrument of the Lord. As such, he will guide and protect her during their travels.” She glanced down at Deborah, a puzzled look on her face.

“Why did you not go with them?” Adam asked, taking a step closer to her.

Theodora visibly paled, although she kept her chin steady and her back straight. Clearly this was not the first time she had stood tall in the face of authority. “As Sam and I did not receive the calling ourselves, we elected to remain behind. Esther told us that we could keep this house for the Quakers, and in exchange we gave her all the funds we had raised.” Her gaze shifted back to Ahivah and Deborah.

“Where did they go?” the magistrate asked, clearly straining to stay calm. “Please. We must know their plans. I fear my daughter is not safe with Esther Whitby and the others.”

Hearing this, Theodora’s eyes widened. “They went to Bristol,” she replied. “There is a ship departing for the New World at the end of the week.”

Lucy’s heart sank. Bristol was a very great distance away. At least a two-day journey by horse, even longer if the roads were in poor condition.

“Are you certain of this?” the magistrate asked. “We have reason to believe that Esther Whitby is prone to mistruths and lies, perhaps even murder.”

“Before we left, I overhead Esther telling Gervase to hire a hackney cab, and that they could switch horses at a coaching inn. She did not know I was there, so it must be the truth.”

Considering this, Adam seemed to agree. He looked at his father. “Perhaps we can overtake them. They might not have gotten very far. We’ve had some snow and rain. I imagine, then, that they would take the high road. They might have only a few miles’ head start on us,” Adam said.

The magistrate glanced at Deborah, who was still lying against Ahivah, unmoving. “Who struck her?”

The mute woman shook her head violently, tears dripping down her face. She had begun to make that horrible guttural sound again.

“We must revive her before we set out after Sarah,” the magistrate declared, a note of quiet despair in his voice. “She may know something important. Let us hope the physician arrives soon.”

Lucy frowned, thinking about what she had read in Nicholas Culpeper’s book of remedies. “I have an idea,” she said.

Ignoring their mystified expressions, Lucy walked out of the room and entered Esther’s chamber. With a grimace she pulled a nearly full ceramic pot from under the bed and peered inside. At least the dratted woman had left something useful behind.

She returned to the room, carrying the pot expertly so that the contents would not slosh about and soil her clothes. She could not bring herself to look at Adam. When she had served as a chambermaid, she had tried not to carry such offensive items in the presence of family members. Personal bodily functions were rarely remarked upon by anyone except servants, except, of course, in jests and merriments. “I beg your pardon, sir,” she said to the magistrate, “I thought this might help.”

Kneeling down by Deborah, Lucy opened the lid of the chamber pot. A noxious odor filled the room, and everyone except Ahivah turned away, pinching their noses and gagging. Deborah’s eyes remained closed, although Lucy could see her eyes starting to roll back and forth beneath her closed lids.

“She’s stirring,” Lucy whispered.

They all watched the woman. Miraculously, Deborah’s eyes fluttered open. She clutched at her head. “Oh, I have been killed!” she exclaimed.