A Murder at Rosamund's Gate (33 page)

“I see.” Lucas digested this information and then continued. “Now I’ve grown tired of recounting all the acts I did as the Lord’s soldier. I’m afraid, Adam, Lucy, it’s time to give you over to His great embrace.” He pulled out his knife.

Desperately, Lucy seized on a way to stall him. “But Bessie? Why Bessie? You cared about her! We were all friends! You did not know those other girls so well, but Bessie, you knew her!”

Lucas bared his teeth in the semblance of a smile. “’Twas the monster inside me. You said it yourself. The rest, Will, the painter, was easy enough to set in motion.”

He bent close down by Lucy’s ear and whispered, “This time I controlled it all, and this time I was more powerful, more purposeful. I could hardly sleep some nights for how much I enjoyed the prospect of what I was going to do.”

“Bessie! Tell me about Bessie!” Lucy cried.

Lucas carefully traced the line of Lucy’s jaw. She had to will herself not to shudder. “It was the painter’s fault, you know. He dirtied so many girls, but, of course, they were all so willing to be sullied. No virtue, no honor.” Straightening up, Lucas ran his fingers along the stone wall and gazed for a moment at the likeness of St. Peter etched into the stone. “Bessie, like so many of them, fell under his spell. I told her not to pose for him! I warned her. What happened was her own fault.”

“No!” Lucy began indignantly, but a movement from Adam stopped her.

Lucas continued. “Yes, it was. The family was taking supper that night, you know, the night we got into the fight at the pub, and I was resting. She came to my room and actually asked me my advice about her baby.”

“She did?” Lucy asked, shocked.

“Oh, yes, she did. She was eager for my forgiveness and my help. It was all so easy. I told her that I would set everything right with Will. I told her that I had planned to meet him that evening for a drink, and that I would persuade Will to go to the park to meet with her. She was so desperate, you see, wanting to believe that her precious Will still loved her, despite what she had done with the painter!”

Snorting, Lucas continued. “’Twas not so hard later to find her and let her know that Will wanted to see her. ‘Tonight,’ I told her, ‘Will wants to take you to Knightsbridge.’ She seemed surprised, so I said, ‘Yes, Bessie, he wants to marry you. There is one there who will sell you a license.’ For indeed, there are those who presume to marry sinners without posting banns. Not condoned by the Church, of course, but when she asked, I convinced her it was all right, God would understand and forgive. Imagine!”

His hand clenched. “As if the good Lord would forgive such fornication in his name!” For a moment his eyes glazed over. “No matter. I told Bessie to pack nearly everything she had, but to leave some things out, lest Lucy suspect too soon and raise a hue and cry. I had the foresight to write a note, in case she needed to be convinced. ‘My dear Will has written me a letter!’ she said!” Lucas grinned. “Can you believe it?” He could have been commenting on the antics of a fishwife henpecking her husband at the tavern. “Why
do
these girls always have to bring the letter along? I have to admit, I wondered if she would. That’s why I didn’t sign Will’s name.”

Ignoring Lucy’s stare, he continued. “She worried, you see, about stealing the silver at first, but I assured her that Will would be making money soon enough. Then she thought the whole thing a lark, I can tell you that. She had some thought she would pay the magistrate back once her Will set up his own shop.” He scowled, momentarily diverted. “I thought she’d be branded a thief! Instead, they threw the harlot a fine funeral, far better than she deserved.”

Lucy felt a deep wave of sadness flood over her. Poor, sweet-hearted Bessie! “And then?” she croaked, a tear slipping down her cheek.

“The rest was easy enough,” Lucas boasted. He reminded Lucy of one of her mother’s old cocks, strutting about the stone catacombs as if he were king of the hens. His leer disgusted her, yet she could not tear herself away.

“She was quite easy to dispatch. They always are, you see. They expect to see their lovers, of course, but I am their trusted confidante. They allow me to comfort them. They allow me to come”—he licked his lips—“close. You can imagine how angry I was when I realized she had not actually packed everything as I told her to do. And she wore that silly dress! I had to sneak into the room you two shared and pack her satchel, hoping my memory would serve me right. I hid it out back, and then ’twas easy enough to take it to St. Peter’s later.”

“That’s why my petticoat and stockings were missing,” Lucy said slowly. “I could never understand why she took them.”

“Yes, well, she didn’t,” Lucas replied. “My only regret, of course, is that her death hurt you. I did not want to hurt you, Lucy, you must believe that! Since Will was your brother, too, I felt slight remorse over what I had to do. Then I remembered their Philistine ways and I knew I was the trumpet and instrument of the Lord, completing what needed to be done. I was ever so surprised and, to be truthful, somewhat glad, when Adam came under suspicion first. Adam!”

Lucas laughed, the sound echoing oddly throughout the lifeless catacombs. “Even better! Your precious Will would not be injured, and Adam could be punished for the impure thoughts he harbored toward you! For sure, I thought the blood from the ring would prove him guilty, but, of course, that was not to occur. So I renewed my efforts against Will, knowing that it was God’s command that he be smited by the mighty hand of earthly justice.”

“You’re mad!” Lucy cried. “A lunatic!” She spat on the ground. “Monster!”

Lucas turned back. She could see no trace of her old friend on his harsh countenance. “Such ugly words from such pretty lips. Not to despair, my dear, your body will soon match the ugliness of those words you just hurled upon me, when I am through with you.”

He advanced toward her, and she flinched. Behind him, Adam was trying to tell her something. He wanted her to keep Lucas talking, until they could figure a way out. She tried a different tack, trying to sound admiring. “What about Richard? Did you pay him to say those lies?”

The crazed look that so chilled her vanished for a moment. Lucas laughed as if she were a favorite pupil who had pleased him. He reached a hand down to smooth her hair. She accepted the caress, trying not to flinch.

“Richard, that idiot,” he said pleasantly. “A weak mind, to be sure. I only had to buy him a few pints and I, shall we say, persuaded him to remember the story a slightly different way. Then those wretched Quakers got to him.” He sniffed. “Convinced him to see the light or some such nonsense. Worked over his conscience, I’ve heard. What a crock! When he recanted his story, I was quite annoyed, I must say.” He shrugged. “I had taken other precautions, but, it seems, not enough to convince the jury.”

Seeing the strange light return to Lucas’s face, Lucy sought desperately to keep him talking. “Other precautions?” she asked.

“The orange seller, of course.”

Lucy thought back. “Maggie didn’t show up to testify at Will’s trial. She had said she would, that she could prove Will had been with her. I didn’t believe her, though—but I told you I might pay for her testimony.” She stared at him in horror.

“Exactly. When you told me that, I knew I had to make quick riddance of her as well.”

Lucy stared at him. “You killed her, too?”

Lucas laughed fondly. “Well, yes. What had been done to her was never discovered, as far as I know. I strangled her quickly that night, near her home, and dumped her body. St. Giles, you know. So much deadly sickness there, I don’t think the carters thought too much about another body lying in a ditch. She looked, no doubt, to be just another unfortunate soul caught up in the early days of the great sickness. An early victim of the plague, as it turned out.”

The faint din from above was growing louder, and now they could hear a weak battering sound. Lucas sighed. “It sounds like the church has some visitors. Sinners, no doubt, in need of comforting for their wicked ways. I’ll tend to them, and then to you, never fear.”

23

Lucas ran lightly up the stairs of the catacombs. They heard something heavy being dragged in front of the door leading to the chamber. Lucy and Adam looked at each other.

“Why did you come here?” she asked.

He wiped off the blood trickling down his cheek. “Cook came to me. She was worried and told me of your wretched plan. She told me what you had learned about the cloak, what you had tried to tell me last night. I wish to God I had listened to you. She was worried about the reverend, but as I ran to the church, I began to piece together things that had been bothering me about Lucas. I was terribly afraid I was too late, and when I heard you screaming—”

He broke off. Lucy crawled over to him. As he struggled to sit up, Lucy reached around him and managed to tug apart the ropes binding his hands. He flexed his fingers and then began to untie the bonds at his ankles. When they were free, he touched her hand where it lay in her lap. “Lucy, listen to me. I’ve been a fool.”

Lucy sat back on her knees, pulling away from him slightly. She rubbed her hands together. The catacombs were making her body numb.

“Lucy, I would tell myself I couldn’t understand you. Your willfulness—yes, your willfulness—your principled ways, your dedication to justice, and your peculiar understanding of Hobbes, which I’ve heard tell about.” He twisted his lips at the last. “The truth is, I just couldn’t reconcile your notions in a servant. Simply, I couldn’t place you. I’ve let convention and tradition blind me.”

She made a noise, and he raised his hand. “Do you remember that day long ago in the market? When we saw the pickpocket take that poor woman’s worldly possessions? While I rued the lack of a bellman, I just dismissed that woman’s plight as a cautionary tale. But I saw you—yes, I saw what you did. You got that woman’s pocket back, through means”—he smiled at the memory—“of which I no longer approve.”

Remembering the roguish Sid, Lucy blushed.

“I saw you give that pocket back to the woman. Both scrupulous and unscrupulous at once. It made me wonder about my own singular pursuit of the law, and my faith in the purity of our system of jurisprudence.” He smiled slightly. “That’s even why I went to the site of Jane Hardewick’s death, and of Bessie’s later. Because I overheard you saying that if you were a man, you would never let their murderers go free, and that someone must champion the powerless. Your words made me realize how weak I’d been, how I’d hidden behind the law.”

Despite their circumstances, his words warmed Lucy. “You never hid behind the law.”

“I just could never place you,” he continued. “You were clearly a favorite of my father’s, and for good reason, as I came to learn. And when you stood before me wearing that Easter gown, I could only think, ‘These are the eyes I want to wake up to.’ I pushed you away, because I thought that was right.” He raised his hand to her cheek.

As Adam spoke, Lucy found herself lost in his gaze, so close to her. Somewhere, she heard his words, but she recalled herself with a start. “We have to find a way out! Before Lucas returns!”

“In a moment,” he said. She looked up in indignation, only to find her face grasped gently in his hands. He kissed her then, a kiss that grew in ferocity and intensity when she began to kiss him back.

Moments passed. Only when she pitched forward into his lap and they toppled sideways did she attempt to disentangle herself and smooth her skirts.

Panting slightly, she looked around. The single candle that Lucas had left looked to be near its end. “We must get out of here.”

Perversely, despite their danger, she could not help voicing the question that had plagued her for so many months. “What about Judith?” she asked, deliberately not using the title held by her nemesis.

“Help me to my feet,” Adam said.

She put her body under his shoulders and helped him stand. He wavered for a moment but then smiled down at her. Leaning down, he kissed her nose. “Let’s try to find a way out of here, and then I’ll tell you all about it.”

They began to walk, cautiously, not quite steady on their feet. Lucy’s head was beginning to pound. Holding the dying candle aloft, Lucy spied a few more candle stubs in a corner, which she quickly ignited and stuck in cracks in the stone walls. The catacombs opened before them, with great vaults and scattered skeletons, relics of long-dead Catholic saints and great patrons who had donated to the church.

Stricken, Lucy saw that many of the statues did not have heads, their hands raised in supplication to a God they could not see or feel. With a shock, she remembered what Lucas had told her about how the heads had come to be removed. Those that did have heads were balanced precariously—one quick movement could set a heavy marble block tumbling down.

Looking around, Lucy remembered something else Sarah’s tutor had once told them. “I heard tell of secret passageways that had been created for the papist priests. Perhaps we can find them.”

“Yes, I was thinking the same thing.”

Taking her hand, Adam began to feel along the wall. The catacombs stretched out ahead, great ominous shadows shrouding what lay before them and soon, what lay behind them. Lucy began to feel dizzy. Finding another way out seemed near impossible.

“You asked me about Judith,” Adam said conversationally, as though they were strolling along the river. Lucy noticed that he was still scanning the walls carefully, a slight furrow to his brow. “Well, my father had become aware of certain, shall we say, questionable transactions concerning Lord Embry’s shipping line to the West Indies and the Americas. He asked me to see what I could find out, since his hands were tied as a magistrate, and given Lord Embry’s status in the House of Lords and the King’s court.”

“By courting Judith?” she asked, doubt creeping into her voice.

“By
pretending
to court Judith,” he clarified, “but yes. Not particularly gentlemanly of me, I must say. At first, I had no real objections, desiring only to help my father. I just thought I would be one of her string of admirers, which would give me a chance to speak with the family in a more informal way, and see if I could learn anything of interest to report to my father. That changed.”