These Shallow Graves (40 page)

There was no sneaking into the house unobserved by the time Jo returned from her uncle's.

It was nearly eight-thirty. The household staff were up, and preparations for breakfast were under way.

“I felt a headache coming on and went out for some air, but it hasn't helped,” she fibbed to Mrs. Nelson. “Would you send some tea and toast to my room and let my mother know I'm under the weather and won't be attending church?”

Jo went up to her room and changed into her nightgown. Her mother, having gotten Jo's message, came in about fifteen minutes later to check on her, followed by Katie, who had Jo's tea tray. When Anna had satisfied herself that Jo was not feverish, she left her to rest. Jo ate a bit of breakfast, then closed her eyes. She only meant to nap for an hour or so, but it was four-thirty in the afternoon by the time she woke. She immediately rang for her maid.

“Katie, has my uncle been here?” she asked.

“No, Miss Jo, but he sent word that he intends to at seven this evening.”

Jo was relieved she hadn't missed him. She thanked Katie, then asked her to draw a bath and lay out her clothing. She'd only had a quick bath very early that morning and wanted a long hot soak now. Her muscles ached from the digging she'd done at Darkbriar, and her heart ached from the sorrow of saying her last goodbye to Eddie.

By six-thirty, she was scrubbed, dressed, and neatly coiffed. At precisely seven, the doorbell rang. She walked downstairs when she heard it, summoning the strength she knew she would need to get through the next hour. Her mother would not take what Phillip was about to tell her well.

“Good evening, Uncle,” she said as she entered the foyer.

Theakston was already reaching for Phillip's coat, but he said he wished to keep it on. Jo thought that odd but said nothing, as Theakston was still hovering

Phillip gave Jo a quick kiss on her cheek. “I'll go in to your mother now,” he told her in a low voice. “After I've said what I've come to say, I'll call you in. I assume she's in the drawing room?”

“She is,” Jo said.

Theakston ushered Phillip into the drawing room, and Jo decided to wait for her uncle's summons in her father's study. She left the study door open, and distracted herself from her anxiousness by looking out the bay windows. In the glow of a gas lamp, she saw a figure, slight and hunched, near the servants' entrance to the Cavendishes' house, which was kitty-corner to her own. It was Mad Mary. The door opened and Mrs. Perkins, the Cavendishes' cook, handed her a small bundle. Mary dipped her head, then hurried to their stoop. She sat down, opened the bundle, and greedily started to eat.

“Jo? Are you there?” Her uncle's voice carried up the stairs.

Jo hurried to the drawing room. Phillip held the door open, then closed it behind her. Her mother was sitting on a divan clutching a handkerchief. Her eyes were red and swollen. She was trembling.

“Oh, Mama,” Jo said, her voice breaking. She sat down next to her.

Her mother took her hand. She looked at her searchingly, then at Phillip. “I don't believe it,” she said. “I
can't
believe it. It's not true!”

“Jo, your mother is having a bit of difficulty with what I've told her. Would you repeat the story for her? Start at the very beginning.”

“Yes, Uncle,” Jo said. She sat down next to her mother and told her everything, starting with her trip to the
Standard
to give Mr. Stoatman her father's bequest.

Anna listened, shaking her head at times, pressing her handkerchief to her eyes, murmuring the word
no.
It was dead silent in the room when Jo finished. The only sound was the ticking of the grandfather clock.

Phillip was the first to speak. He turned to Anna and said, “Do you see now? It's just as I told you.”

Jo was so glad he was here. She was grateful for his calmness and his strength. She could not have done this alone.

“It's dreadful,” he continued, looking at Jo's mother. “A shattering thing to face, especially after all you've been through. But I told you, Anna. All along, I told you. You wouldn't believe me. Do you now? Do you finally see? Our poor, dear Jo has lost her mind.”

“What?”
Jo said, laughing in disbelief. “For goodness' sake, Uncle Phillip, what are you saying? I haven't lost my mind!”

“Josephine, please,” said Anna tearfully. “Think about the horrible things you just told us you've done … walking the streets at night with strange men, going to morgues and houses of ill repute, digging up a
corpse
—” Her voice broke. She struggled to regain her composure. “It's obscene!”

Jo felt the first pricklings of fear run up her spine. “But, Mama, it was all to find out the truth about Papa's death,” she said.

“And when, exactly, did you do these things? When?” her mother asked.

“At night, mostly. Sometimes during the day.”

“At night? That is a
lie,
Josephine,” her mother said. “I check on you at night. I have since you were a tiny girl. And every night since you came home from school for your father's funeral, you have been in bed. Sound asleep.”

“You saw Katie. I traded places with her. Several times,” Jo said, becoming more nervous. “Mama, these things are
true
!” She turned to her uncle. “Tell her, Uncle Phillip! Tell her the truth!”

“My darling Jo,” Phillip said, his faced creased with pity, “I told her what I know—that this morning you came to me very upset with a wild and sordid story. And that it was not the first time you'd done so. I foolishly took no action before today, hoping this mania was born of grief and would pass. I was wrong. You've grown worse, not better. Last night, instead of imagining you'd left your house, you actually
did
leave it.”

“But you … you believed me!” Jo said.

“I played along hoping to keep you calm.”

“You lied to me. You said you were going to the authorities,” Jo said, her voice rising.

Phillip shook his head sorrowfully. “Please don't say that, Jo. I didn't mean to. I needed time.”

“Time? For what?”

“To find you the care you need.”

“But I don't need any care!” Jo shouted, her fear growing. Anna and Phillip traded glances, and Jo realized she was only confirming their suspicions by becoming hysterical.

In a quieter, calmer voice, she said, “I assure you that I am perfectly fine.”

“You are a sensitive girl, Josephine, and you have sadly fallen prey to all manner of delusions,” said Phillip. “I, your aunt, your mother, we all tried. We asked you to stop dwelling on dark thoughts. We allowed you to bend the rules of mourning. Encouraged you to see friends. We desperately hoped your engagement would pull you out of your moroseness, but even that has failed to turn you around.”

“You've been acting so strange,” her mother said. “In the carriage on the way to the Scullys'. At the dressmaker's, too. Like your uncle, I didn't want to face what I was seeing. Now I have no choice.”

Jo remembered being at the dressmaker's. She remembered the fearful look on her mother's face when she'd tried to tell her she didn't want to go through with the wedding. And the look that had passed between her mother and her aunt on the way to the Scullys'. It seemed
everything
she'd said or done fed her uncle's conviction that she'd gone mad.

“This is all a terrible misunderstanding,” she insisted, trying to keep her voice level, “but I know how to clear it up. Send for Eddie Gallagher and Oscar Rubin. They'll confirm everything I've told you.”

“I spoke with them both this afternoon, Jo,” Phillip said. “They both said they'd never met you until last night when you approached them on the street, covered in dirt. They also told me they were relieved when Bram appeared and took you home.”

Jo felt as if she'd been struck. “
What?
That's preposterous! It's a
lie
! I've been to Eddie's room several times. Of
course
he knows me!” she said without thinking.

Anna's eyes widened with alarm. “If this gets out, Phillip … if people hear that she's saying such things …”

“I also looked up your private detective—Oscar Edwards,” Phillip said. “There's no investigator by that name in the city.”

“I told you, I—I made him up. I had to. To protect Eddie,” she stammered.

“You made it
all
up, didn't you, Jo?” Phillip said gently.

“Fetch Katie! She'll tell you that what I said is true,” Jo said, relieved to have hit on the idea. Katie's account of Jo's recent activities would certainly corroborate Jo's.

“I've given Katie and the other maids the night off. Mrs. Nelson, too,” her mother said. “Only Theakston's still here, and I'm hoping he's gone downstairs to polish the silver.”

“Why have the servants been sent away?” Jo asked warily.

“Because they listen at doors and then they tell tales. I do not want this all over the city. It's bad enough that Bram knows,” said Anna. Emotion choked her words off. When she could speak again, she said, “God only knows what he makes of all this.”

He found you on the
street
at one in the morning with two strange
men
! It's a testimony to his kind nature and good character that he didn't immediately break off your engagement. He may yet. If Grandmama finds out, he'll have no choice.”

“We hope to prevent this, Jo,” Phillip said “We plan to say that all the excitement of the past few months has led to nervous exhaustion and that we've sent you on a trip to regain your strength.”

Jo felt as if a net was closing around her. “A trip? To where?” she asked.

“Consider it a brief respite,” Anna said. “We'll say you've gone to visit my sister in Winnetka. And when you recover, which I hope will be very soon, you'll come home.”

“But where am I going?” Jo asked, genuinely afraid now.

“Don't worry, Josephine,” Phillip said. “Your mother had Katie pack a few things. Enough to see you through the first few days. We'll send the rest on later.” He stood then, and pulled a small traveling case from behind a chair. Her coat had been folded over it. “Come along now. Put your coat on.”

Jo turned to her mother. “Mama,
please,
” she cried. “Stop this!”

“My poor, darling girl, it's for the best,” Anna said. She turned away and wept into her handkerchief.

Phillip handed Jo her coat. “Please, Jo. Don't make this any harder than it already is.”

Jo's head was spinning. Everything felt completely unreal.
How can this be happening?
she wondered.

When she'd buttoned her coat, Phillip took her by the arm and led her to the front door. As he opened it, she saw his shiny black carriage waiting on the street. Panic overwhelmed her. She tried to break free, but her uncle's grip only tightened.

“Please, Uncle Phillip, please don't do this,” she begged.

But Phillip was adamant. He led her across the sidewalk to the carriage. Mad Mary was walking by as Jo was pleading with her uncle. The woman stopped to stare.

“Move on,” Phillip barked at her.

Mary flinched. She backed away, onto Jo's stoop. Phillip handed Jo's suitcase to his driver, then bundled her into the cab. Jo looked out the window as her uncle settled himself across from her, hoping to see her mother appear on the stoop, hoping she'd changed her mind. But her mother wasn't there, only Mary was. Jo caught the beggar woman's eyes and saw her fear reflected in them.

“Where to, Mr. Montfort?” Phillip's driver asked.

“East, please, Thomas,” Phillip replied. “To the Darkbriar Insane Asylum.”

I'm not here,
Jo thought, squeezing her eyes closed.
This isn't happening.

But it was. She opened her eyes and saw that nothing had changed. She was seated next to her uncle. They were in his carriage, heading to Darkbriar. She was going to be committed. The feeling of unreality became so strong, so dizzying, she thought she might be sick.

Maybe my mother and uncle are right,
she thought.
Maybe I am insane. Isn't that how it is with crazy people? They think everyone else is crazy.
She covered her face with her hands, moaning softly.

Phillip, noticing her agitation, said, “It will be all right, Josephine. I promise you.”

“Will it?” Jo asked.

“Yes, it's only for a short while. Take the time at Darkbriar to heal your nerves and restore your mind. I know you're angry with me, but what else could I do after what Bram told me? After what you yourself told me? That you'd been in morgues and brothels. That you'd dug up a dead man. That Stephen Smith came back from the Amirantes. …”

Jo froze.

But I didn't tell you that, Uncle Phillip,
she thought.
Because I didn't know.

Until now.

The part of Smith's tattoo that named the place where he'd been abandoned had been blotted out by decay. As had the name of the one who'd abandoned him.

Jo knew that the Amirantes, a small cluster of islands in the Indian Ocean, were part of the much larger Seychelles chain. She'd heard Stephen Smith's death referred to occasionally when she was a child, but no one had ever mentioned the Amirantes in connection with it.

How could her uncle know where Smith had been abandoned?

Unless
he
was the one who'd abandoned him?

Jo's heart was slamming. Terror, pure and blinding, coursed through her. She understood now. She saw it all.

Eddie was right. His words, spoken at the waterfront, came back to her.
You better get used to the idea that maybe someone at Van Houten isn't so upstanding. …
He'd tried again to get her to open her eyes, just last night at Stephen Smith's grave. If only she'd listened to him!

Her uncle, her own beloved uncle, was the one behind the wrongdoing Smith had uncovered. Smith must've threatened him with exposure, so he arranged for him to disappear. Maybe her uncle suggested the scouting trip and paid the ship's captain to somehow get rid of Smith. But Smith had come back. And this time, it was Mallon who'd gotten rid of him—undoubtedly at her uncle's behest.

Jo realized something else, too—her uncle didn't really think she was crazy. He was only pretending to, so he could have her committed. Because she'd become a threat to him.

She glanced at him now. He was looking out the window, still talking. Fear, anger, and revulsion filled her heart. Instinctively, she shrank away from him.

“… Why, the story grows more outlandish with each telling,” he was saying. “You must see that. And you must also see the necessity of our getting you help, Jo. Jo?”

He turned to her. His gaze sharpened as he saw that she'd moved away from him, and suddenly there was another expression under his mask of concern—one that was much darker.

Play along,
a voice inside Jo said.
You mustn't let him know you know.

She quickly forced a smile. “I do see, Uncle Phillip. It's just that I'm … I'm so frightened,” she said.

“You don't need to be,” he said. “The sooner you admit your illness and cooperate with the doctors, the sooner they can cure you.”

“Yes. Of course,” Jo said docilely.

Only they won't cure me,
she thought.
They won't get the chance. You'll hand me over to Darkbriar tonight and then he'll come—Mallon. Maybe he'll come tomorrow night. Maybe next week. But he'll come. He'll strangle me and make it look like I hanged myself. Just like he did with Stephen Smith.

The voice inside Jo went silent for a moment, and then it said one last thing.

If you want to live, Jo, you've got to run.