The Masque of a Murderer (32 page)

Lucy shivered. Briefly, she felt sorry for the woman standing before her.

The moment passed, though, as Esther Whitby continued, her voice cold. “He had taken everything away from me, and left me with
nothing. Nothing!
So I killed him.”

Sarah was staring at her in horror, having not moved since the accusations began.

“That’s right!” Esther cried, completely undone now with emotion. “I slit that damn bastard’s throat when he was sleeping! Then I carted him off to Houndsditch in his own cart! I dumped him there, among the vermin and the rats and all manner of foul things.” She spat at the searcher. “
That,
dear Granny, is why I stopped calling myself Posy and became Grace Little. And I turned to the only thing I knew how to do. Selling my body for a few coins.” She angrily brushed away a tear and faced them all defiantly.

“So the truth finally comes forth,” the searcher said, a deep chill to her voice. She seemed unmoved by the circumstances that brought about her son’s murder. “I always knew you had killed my dear Edgar.”

“
How
did you know?” Esther asked, sounding almost petulant. “I thought of everything!”

“I had come by to see him when I saw you put his body in the cart. From then, I began to watch you, follow you. I could not let you out of my sight.” She sniffed. “Saw you take up with that cathouse, too. I know that’s where you met
him.
” She pointed at Gervase. “Posy had you wrapped up in her finger from the day you met her.”

“Don’t call me Posy!” Esther Whitby shouted again.

“Oh, it is true. Anything you bid this man to do, he did. Isn’t that so?”

“I knew she wanted to try her hand at being an actress, so I was the one who brought Basil Townsend to her. She is everything to me,” Gervase admitted, looking at Esther with adoring eyes. To Lucy’s disgust, the false Quaker smiled back at him, with the air of a princess bestowing a favor on a witless suitor. Clearly she was still trying to use his adoration to her advantage.

“She would see you swing!” Lucy burst out, unable to stomach the man’s obvious devotion to the murderess.

Esther ignored her and turned to Sarah. Her earlier pretense long dropped, her countenance was now sneering. “That’s where I met Jacob, you know,” Esther said. “At the brothel. Although he came to me so full of spirits—and not that tiresome Spirit he spoke of later, either. He did not even remember me when we met again at the plays.”

“That is how Julia Whitby recognized you,” Lucy said, watching Sarah sink further against the carriage. “She had seen all three of you before.”

“I suppose,” Esther sniffed.

“After Basil Townsend was murdered, and you found your way to the Beetners,” Lucy said, slowly sorting it out. “That is when you became Esther Grace.”

“The Beetners were certainly helpful in that regard,” she said snidely. “Mrs. Beetner had it in for me, so I knew it was a matter of time.”

“So you slit all their throats and claimed that they had been killed in the plague,” Adam said.

“And then you took up with Jacob Whitby,” Lucy concluded, feeling a pang as Sarah’s face blanched again.

Esther snapped her fingers. “He had been so besotted with me when he met me as Esther Grace. I knew I would have no trouble convincing him to marry me.” She laughed, a surprisingly musical sound. “I knew he had become a Quaker. So I sought out Deborah, since I knew that her aunt—the famous mute Ahivah—had made her take up that dratted conviction, too.”

Sarah, who had long been silent, wailed, “Why marry Jacob? Thou couldst not have loved him?”

Esther made a contemptuous sound. “As if I’d ever be tied to a Quaker. Oh, he’d been amusing enough before he gave up his ‘lustful ways,’ as he said. That marriage was not even legal. Just a bunch of nonsensical declarations. That’s not to say we did not live as husband and wife.” Here she looked spitefully at Sarah again.

Sarah flushed and looked away.

“Then he went and gave away his family’s fortune. Gervase and I had expected to get something for our troubles. I was so angry when the Whitbys cast him off.”

“So you were cuckolding him?” the magistrate asked sternly.

Esther shrugged. “He was the foolish one.”

“Why?” Sarah wailed again. “Jacob loved thee so very much! He was trying to protect thee! He made me promise to protect thee, too!”

“Jacob was in the way,” Esther said, standing up. “I did not need him. I did like being with the Quakers, though. Only Deborah and Gervase knew of my past, and the Quakers shielded and protected us in a way that no one else could have done.”

“Pray, tell us,
why
did you kill Julia Whitby?” Lucy whispered. “She was no harm to you.”

“She was a threat. I could see my
husband’s
sister was going to ruin everything,” Esther said matter-of-factly. “Tell Jacob about my … er, indiscretion at the theater with Basil Townsend. My dear granny told me she planned to tell Julia Whitby everything, but we were not sure if she truly did so.” Here she glared at the searcher. “If she would have just kept her own mouth shut, we would not have had to kill my husband’s only sister.” She threw up her hands. “I tried to warn Julia. I assumed she would understand the warnings!”

“You sent her
A Lamentable Warning
and
The Vision for London
,” Lucy said slowly. “And wrote the word ‘Behold!’ on the top.”

“Obvious if you think about it,” Esther said, sounding cross. “How could we have been more clear? We thought she would keep her mouth shut about what that wretched woman had told her. However, Jacob told me then about his sister’s letter.” She heaved a deep mournful sigh.

Lucy was simultaneously fascinated and repulsed. Did Esther Whitby truly believe that she was without blame? That it was the searcher who had brought Julia’s end upon her?

Esther went on. “Jacob told me what his sister had written. That someone near him was an impostor. Thankfully, the stupid chit did not think to tell him who that impostor was! He said he would go to her right then and there, because he was more worried for me—for my life!—than he was for his own.” She took a deep breath. “So I told Gervase what to do, and he did it.”

“He did it,” Sarah repeated, looking gray. She was starting to tremble, and she had sunk to the ground. “He pushed dear Jacob in front of that cart!”

Lucy went over and knelt beside Sarah. She looked up at Esther. “Then you had Gervase grab Julia Whitby before she could flee to her friend’s house.”

Esther snorted. “Yes, I sent her
The Quakers’ Final Warning.
I ask you, how could it be more clear? I just knew that she would understand the message and flee the house. It was a gamble, that is true.” She chuckled. “That simple girl. So easily led. So predictable! She was as a sheep to the slaughter. We had to find out the extent of her knowledge, you see, and what she planned to do with it.” Then she turned to Gervase, sounding, of all things, indignant. “I told Gervase to scare her. Leave her in the scold’s mask for a while, so she would learn her lesson about speaking of things that did not concern her. Thought it would shut her up for good.”

“She kept trying to scream. She begged me not to put it on her face, not to kill her,” Gervase muttered. “I was not going to kill her.”

“When I arrived, Gervase called out my name,” Esther said, sounding disgusted. “She knew exactly who I was and what I had done. I could not have that. So I ran her through with a knife.”

“I see,” the magistrate said. By his calm and quiet demeanor, they could have been talking about the weather. “Tell me,” he said, “why did you let Sarah come along with you?”

Esther shrugged. “I did not expect her to. I thought she would go along with that nonsense that Joan was spewing, about the good Lord’s admonition that we
walk
to Bristol. When Sarah decided to accompany us, I must say I was surprised.“

“She did so out of loyalty and a sense of duty to you!” Lucy cried. “She believed it was her obligation to protect you.”

“Yes, well, I see that now,” Esther said almost gaily. She climbed back into the cart. “Rest assured, we had not decided what to do with her. We thought about getting some ransom from her—the magistrate seems rich enough, and besides, that would allow us to fulfill our promise to the Lord.” The last was said with great sarcasm. “Or else we thought we could just pitch her overboard during the crossing, and start anew as husband and wife in the New World.” She laughed and flicked the reins. The cart began to move forward. At the same time, Gervase stepped aside.

“We cannot let her get away!” Lucy cried. “She is a murderer!”

Without thinking, Lucy scrambled up on the cart, not heeding the dismayed shouts of the others, and began to try to forcibly wrest the reins from Esther’s hands. Esther pushed back, and the cart lurched forward.

The momentum caused Lucy to fall sideways against Esther. In a sickening tangle of arms and legs, they both fell over the side of the cart. With Esther underneath, they hit the ground hard. Lucy gasped at the great burst of pain from her knee.

For an instant, both women lay stunned. The breath seemed to have been knocked out of Esther, for she was not moving.

From her strange view from the ground, she saw Gervase break past and catch hold of Adam’s horse and swing himself upon the saddle. John began to chase him, Adam at his heels a second later. A strange whistle pierced her ears, although she did not know the source of the sound.

“Lucy!” she heard Duncan cry out, his voice strangled as he raced toward her. “Watch the cart! The wheels!”

Dimly, Lucy saw that the horses were anxiously pulling the cart forward. Just in time she managed to pull her legs out of the way, although Esther was not so lucky. Lucy heard the sickening crunch as the back wheels of the cart passed over the woman’s legs, likely breaking at least one bone, perhaps more. Esther’s eyes fluttered for a moment, and a small animal-like shriek burst from her lips before she passed out again.

Duncan had reached Lucy and dropped on the ground beside her. “Lucy, are you all right?” he asked. “You were not injured by the cart, were you?”

She swore under her breath, still tightly grasping her kneecap. “Hit my knee when we fell,” she gasped, the pain still coming at her in waves.

To her surprise, Duncan pushed aside her woolen cloak, gently feeling her knee beneath her skirts. “Can you move it?” he asked.

Gingerly, she straightened her leg back and forth. Pain shot through her knee, but she knew it was not broken.

“I will be all right,” she said, looking straight into his anxious eyes. “Thank you.”

“That was a very foolish thing to do,” Duncan said, his hand still on her knee. “Did you truly believe that Esther could have outrun us in that cart, loaded down as it was with all those provisions?”

Seeing him chuckle, Lucy smiled ruefully back at him. “I suppose you are right,” she said. “I do not always think before I act.”

“That may be so. But you are brave.” He pulled her cloak gently into place and stood up.

The sound of a galloping horse made them both look around. “Gervase! He is getting away!” Lucy struggled to get up, but the pain in her knee caused her to sit back to the ground abruptly.

“No, look!” Duncan said, squinting. “The horse has returned without him!” He took a step away from Lucy. “Master Hargrave and his son appear to have taken care of that scoundrel.”

Sure enough, Adam was holding Gervase while the magistrate tied the false Quaker’s hands tightly in front of him. John had captured the horse and was now stroking her nose.

“I am all right,” Lucy called to the others. “What happened?”

Adam approached them. “Gervase did not count on John being able to call back the horse. At that whistle, the horse bucked him off.” He looked at Duncan. “Constable, he is all yours.”

Duncan nodded stiffly and moved to help John tie Gervase inside the cart.

They looked doubtfully at Esther, who was lying still, her body twisted awkwardly on the ground. ’Twas no small mercy that the woman had passed out from the pain, for surely when she awoke, she would be in agony.

Nearby, Sarah was softly crying. Lucy wanted to go to her, but her knee was still throbbing painfully. The magistrate knelt beside his daughter.

“Father, I was a fool,” Sarah said, tucking her hand in her father’s, as if she were still a little girl. “Trusting them in such a way.”

“Dearest child,” Master Hargrave said. “The devil took possession of their hearts, filling them with murderous intentions. Esther Whitby created her own masque—a performance that was truly inspired by all that is base. Lust, greed, and all of the other evils.” He pulled his daughter closer to him. “She was a brilliant performer. No one can blame you for believing the best of others. She manipulated you and made you another player in her masque.”

Sarah looked back at the woman, still unmoving on the ground. “The Lord’s will be done,” she whispered, and Lucy could not help but agree.

The magistrate’s voice grew a bit husky. “Sarah, pray, come home. I swear, I shall never ask you to go against your conscience.”

“Father, I cannot ask thee to harbor a Quaker in thy own household,” Sarah replied, her tears lessening. “Nay, do not be concerned. I shall stay with the Leightons, even as I follow the will of the Lord. I promise thee that I will always be thy own true daughter.” They sat together, right in the middle of the dusty road, shoulder to shoulder.

“Let us tie Esther inside the cart,” the constable said grimly. “This will be a bad ride home, to be sure.”

Before they moved her, John brought over several strong sticks that were intended to brace Esther’s legs.

While the others put the unconscious woman on a makeshift sling, Adam knelt down beside Lucy. “I must say I did not expect to be doing the constable’s duty, Lucy,” he said quietly. His tone was lighthearted, but he seemed to be watching her intently.

“Do not let Lach know, or else he will write a merriment about you. He likes to tease the constable, you know,” Lucy said, smiling. When he did not smile in return, she tried to dispel his worry. “My knee will be fine, Adam,” she said. “Do not distress yourself.”