Crystal Gardens (10 page)

Clarissa drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair, her serious face pinched in a worried expression. “No, that is quite true.”

Lucas surveyed the three of them with a thoughtful expression. “It would be rather extraordinary if you ladies did have some practical experience with the criminal class. That is usually the province of the police.”

“Mmm,”
Beatrice said politely. She sipped her tea.

“Yes, of course,” Clarissa murmured. “The thing is, when you call in the police, you often find yourself dealing with the press. The police have their talents but they are not known for discretion.”

Evangeline cleared her throat. “As it happens, Mr. Sebastian and I discussed that very point last night.”

“When you were standing in his garden dressed only in your nightclothes?” Clarissa’s brows shot upward. “Yes, I expect that you did have a conversation about whether or not to summon the authorities.”

“For heaven’s sake,” Beatrice chided. “This is hardly the time to speak of such matters.”

“Nonsense,” Clarissa said. “Everyone in this room knows the facts of the situation. Evangeline and Mr. Sebastian made the right decision. One can only imagine the scandal that would have ensued if the story had landed in the London newspapers.”

“If the attempted murder had its origins in the incident which occurred shortly after I left my last post, as Mr. Sebastian believes, I doubt that the police would have been of much help in any event,” Evangeline said. “Mr. Mason’s death was just an unfortunate accident.”

“True,” Beatrice said neutrally.

There was a short silence. Evangeline realized that Lucas was once again studying the three of them with keen attention.

“I think,” he said after a moment, “that it is time you told me what it is that you ladies do to make your livings. And in particular, Miss Ames, I would very much like to know a bit more about what happened in the course of your last post.”

Evangeline looked at Clarissa and Beatrice.

“I think we can trust Mr. Sebastian,” Beatrice advised.

“I don’t see that we have much choice,” Clarissa said. “Evangeline’s safety, perhaps her very life, is at stake here.”

Evangeline sat back, cup and saucer in hand. “I did tell you, Mr. Sebastian, that my friends and I work for an agency that supplies paid companions to a very exclusive clientele.”

“You mentioned your profession last night,” Lucas said. “But it has become clear to me that none of you is typical of the sort of unfortunate women who are obliged to pursue that particular career.”

“Really, sir?” Evangeline looked at him over the rim of her cup. “And just how many paid companions have you been personally acquainted with?”

Lucas’s mouth quirked at one corner. “You have me there, Miss Ames. I must admit that you are the first professional paid companion I have spoken to for more than thirty seconds. They tend to be the retiring sort, always sitting in the shadows, working on their knitting or reading while their employers go about their lives. One tends not to notice them.”

Evangeline gave him a cool smile. “Which is precisely why we are so very, very good at what we do, sir. No one ever takes any notice of us when we are at work.”

“And the nature of your work?” Lucas asked.

“We are private inquiry agents,” Evangeline said.

She waited for the inevitable signs of astonishment and disbelief to appear on Lucas’s face. She knew that Clarissa and Beatrice were waiting, too. They were all doomed to disappointment.

“Interesting,” Lucas said. He sounded oddly satisfied. He swallowed some tea and set the cup down on the saucer. “That certainly explains a few things.”

Clarissa narrowed her eyes. “Such as?”

“Miss Lockwood’s comment about the criminal underworld not being your area of expertise, for one thing. You deal in crimes in high society.”

“With the utmost discretion,” Evangeline added.

He smiled. “Obviously, or the firm of Flint and Marsh would have gone out of business a long time ago. Your professional work also explains your daring and resourcefulness last night. It was obvious that you’ve had some experience keeping a cool head when confronting danger.”

“I assure you that we rarely experience actual physical danger in the course of our work, sir,” Evangeline said. “Our employers take great care not to place us in such situations. We are not, after all, the police. Generally speaking, our clients are ladies who want discreet inquiries made into the character and finances of gentlemen who are attempting to become involved with a family’s finances.”

Lucas’s eyes gleamed with icy understanding. “You expose fortune hunters.”

“And those who are not above attempting to defraud widows and spinsters,” Clarissa added.

“But you are correct, sir,” Beatrice said. “One way or another, the business of unmasking fortune hunters constitutes the majority of our commissions. More often than not we are asked to investigate the backgrounds of men who wish to marry either a young heiress or a widow with some money of her own to protect.”

“How do you attract clients?” Lucas asked. “I can’t envision the firm advertising such services in the papers.”

“Mrs. Flint and Mrs. Marsh acquire clients by referral,” Evangeline said.

Lucas was clearly intrigued. “And their employees? How do they find unusual women such as the three of you?”

“In the same way,” Beatrice said. “Word of mouth. Not everyone is suited to the work. It requires a certain … aptitude.”

Lucas considered that with a thoughtful expression. “This aptitude for the work that you speak of. Would it by any chance include a measure of psychical talent?”

Clarissa and Beatrice looked at Evangeline.

“I did tell you that Mr. Sebastian takes the paranormal quite seriously,” she said. She looked at Lucas. “I have a question for you, sir. There were obvious reasons for not summoning the authorities last night. But sooner or later you must report the death. How do you intend to explain a dead man in your gardens to the police?”

“There won’t be any need for explanations,” Lucas said. “Bodies don’t last long in Crystal Gardens.”

L
ucas watched the three women with great interest as they dealt with the news of how he had disposed of the body in the garden. Their shock was plain on their faces. Eyes widened, jaws dropped slightly, teacups froze in midair.

Evangeline swallowed hard. But of the three she recovered first, most likely because she knew how Hobson had died, Lucas decided.

“I see,” she said. “Well, I suppose there is no need to make a fuss over Hobson. He was trying to murder me, after all.”

“My thoughts, precisely,” Lucas said.

Clarissa got her mouth closed. She nodded, satisfied. “Under the circumstances it sounds like a very convenient way of handling the problem.”

“I certainly thought so,” Lucas said.

Beatrice eyed him with some suspicion. “Are you serious, Mr.
Sebastian? You intend for Sharpy Hobson’s body to simply disappear into your gardens?”

“Hobson won’t be the first to do so, Miss Lockwood. The deeper one goes into the Gardens, the more aggressive the plants become. In the maze and the Night Garden, nature works very swiftly, especially at night.”

Clarissa looked interested at that information. “The time of day makes a difference?”

“I have observed that paranormal energy of any sort is often enhanced by darkness,” Lucas said. “But the currents that emanate from the natural forces of the earth are invariably more powerful at night. My uncle’s theory is that sunlight interferes with the wavelengths at the far ends of the spectrum or, more likely, makes it difficult for those of us with some psychical ability to sense those currents.”

“My father also came to the same conclusion,” Evangeline agreed.

Lucas looked at her. You mentioned that your father had an interest in the science of the paranormal, Miss Ames.”

“Yes,” she said. “He possessed some psychical ability himself, you see.”

Lucas did not take his eyes off her. “It is a trait that is often passed down through the bloodline.”

“It is because of his interest in the paranormal that I decided to spend the month here in Little Dixby,” Evangeline said. “In one of his journals he wrote that he considered this region to be a vortex.”

Lucas nodded in a thoughtful manner. “A place where paranormal forces in the earth come together in such a way as to generate a great deal of energy. Fascinating. Uncle Chester was convinced of the same thing. He believed that Crystal Gardens was the center of the Little Dixby vortex.” He paused. “So it was your interest in science that led you to rent the cottage, Miss Ames?”

“Well, no, not exactly,” Evangeline admitted. “I am not especially keen on scientific matters. But when I made the decision to spend a month in the countryside, I recalled what I had read in my father’s journal. I came here seeking inspiration for my writing. I thought the paranormal elements in the area might give me some ideas for my plot.”

Lucas grimaced. “I should have guessed.”

She fixed him with a cold look. “We writers are a sensitive lot, Mr. Sebastian. We are inspired by all manner of things, including the energy in the atmosphere around us.”

“Right. I must remember that in future.”

Her jaw tightened. “What is this about the plants on the grounds of the old abbey becoming stronger and more aggressive? What on earth is happening at Crystal Gardens, sir?”

“Damned if I know,” Lucas said.

It said something about the seriousness of the situation and the fortitude of the three ladies sitting in the parlor that none of them paid any attention to his rough language, he thought. But, then, he had a feeling it would take a great deal to shock the three women from the firm of Flint & Marsh.

Evangeline tilted her head very slightly to one side and narrowed her eyes. “You really don’t know what is happening?”

“I can only assume that my uncle’s experiments are somehow to blame,” he said. “The forces at work inside the walls are generated by an underground hot spring. The waters were sacred to the ancients. When the Romans arrived, they constructed a bathhouse on the site because they were convinced the spring waters had invigorating, even healing properties. Later the abbey was established on the same spot. It was believed that the spring waters enhanced the power of prayer and encouraged religious visions. Eventually, however, the abbey was abandoned. My uncle purchased the property about thirty years ago
and began to conduct his botanical experiments. Still, things appeared to be more or less under control until the past two years.”

Clarissa tapped one fingertip against the rim of her cup. “What sort of experiments did your uncle carry out?”

“He was well intentioned,” Lucas said. “He created a number of hybrids in an attempt to develop plants with various psychical properties. He was searching for new sources of medicine and faster-growing, more productive crops. But at some point, things began to go wrong. The vegetation is taking over. The gardens have become a dangerous jungle. Some areas are almost completely inaccessible.”

“No wonder there is talk of the occult,” Beatrice said.

“In the past two years at least three intruders have managed to get as far as the maze and perhaps all the way into the Night Garden,” Lucas continued. “Uncle Chester could not be certain because the bodies disappeared.”

“Why on earth would anyone take the risk of trespassing into such a dangerous place?” Beatrice asked.

Lucas looked at Evangeline. “Perhaps Miss Ames would like to take that question.”

She flushed, looking rather like a girl who had been caught sneaking out of the house to meet a boy, he thought.

“I was bored and I got curious,” she said with a touch of cool defiance. “That’s the only reason I went into the gardens. I wasn’t reckless. I just did some exploring. I certainly did not attempt the maze.”

“Most likely because it was locked,” Lucas said.

Evangeline’s face turned a brighter shade of red but she pretended she had not heard the implied accusation.

“Miss Ames’s curiosity aside,” Lucas continued, “the chief reason a few adventurous souls have attempted to enter the maze and the Night Garden is the legend of the treasure.”

Clarissa brightened. “Yes, Miss Witton at the bookshop mentioned it today. A hoard of Roman gold is believed to be buried somewhere on the grounds.”

“There is nothing like the prospect of finding a chest of golden objects to attract treasure hunters,” Lucas said. “But for the most part the forces in the Night Garden frighten off would-be trespassers.”

“Those who do get inside are rarely seen again,” Clarissa concluded.

“Generally speaking, no,” Lucas said.

“I have heard the tales of ghosts and demonic forces,” Evangeline said. “But I discounted most of the more dramatic gossip. The thought of people vanishing into the gardens and being consumed by the plants is actually a good deal more chilling than explanations that involve the supernatural.”

Clarissa frowned. “She’s got that look, Bea.”

“Yes,” Beatrice said. “I recognize it.”

Lucas studied Evangeline’s thoughtful expression. “What look?”