Late for the Wedding

by Amanda Quick

  He straightened and stood gazing out into the night. “Bloody hell, Lavinia, I am not even sure where to start.”

  “Why don’t you begin by telling me why you took that ring from Fullerton’s night table.”

  “Ah, you noticed that, did you?” Tobias smiled a little. “Very observant. You are making great progress in acquiring the skills of your new profession. Yes, I took the damned ring.”

  “Why? You are no thief, sir.”

  He reached into his pocket and took out the ring. For a moment he examined it in the light of the candle. “Even if I were inclined toward thievery, I would not have willingly pinched this particular bit of jewelry. I took it because I am quite certain that it was left there for me to find.”

  Ice melted slowly down her spine.

  She walked to where he stood and looked at the ring on his palm. In the flickering candlelight she could make out a miniature gold coffin. Tobias opened the lid with the edge of one finger. A ghastly little death's-head stared up at her from a bed of crossed bones.

  “A memento-mori ring,” she said, frowning slightly. “They were quite popular in past eras, although why anyone would want to be constantly reminded of the inevitability of death is beyond me.”

  “Three years ago, an aging countess, a wealthy widow, and two gentlemen of means died in a series of what appeared to be accidents and suicides. One afternoon I chanced to engage my friend Crackenburne in a discussion of the events. It occurred to me in the course of the conversation that, in each case, someone had gained substantially from the unexpected demise.”

  “You refer to inheritances?”

  “Yes. In all four cases. The end result was that several large fortunes, a couple of sizable estates, and a title or two changed hands.”

  “What struck you as odd about that? Such things happen when wealthy, titled people die.”

  “Indeed. But there were other aspects of the deaths that aroused my curiosity. The two suicides, for example, seemed unlikely to me. Crackenburne, who is always in the know when it comes to the affairs of the ton, was not aware that either of the two men who died in that manner suffered from melancholia or desperately ill health. Neither had sustained any recent financial losses.”

  “And the accidents?”

  “The aging countess went through the ice that covered a pond while out taking a walk on a cold winter afternoon. The wealthy widow fell down a flight of stairs while alone in her house one night. She broke her neck.”

  There was a short silence. Reluctantly Lavinia looked toward the place where it seemed Fullerton had made a frantic attempt to avoid the fall that had killed him.

  Tobias followed her gaze and nodded once. “Indeed, her death was not unlike Fullerton's.”

  “Continue, sir.”

  Tobias resumed his slow pacing. “Crackenburne urged me to look into the deaths. Discreetly, of course. No suggestion of murder had been implied, and none of the families in question would have welcomed one.”

  “What did you discover?”

  “In the course of making some inquiries into the demise of the widow, I learned that her housekeeper had found a very unpleasant item of jewelry near the body.”

  Apprehension made her palms grow cold. “A memento-mori ring?”

  “Yes.” Tobias closed his hand tightly around the ring. “The housekeeper had served her employer for many years and was positive that the ring was not part of the widow’s collection of jewels. When I investigated the two suicides, I was told that similar odd rings had been found in the libraries of both men. Neither man’s valet recognized the ring.”

  She was suddenly keenly aware of the slight chill in the night air. “I begin to perceive why you are so concerned about Fullerton’s death.”

  “A fortnight after I began my inquiries, there was a fifth death. An elderly peer had apparently taken an overdose of laudanum. But this time I learned of the suspicious suicide almost immediately, thanks to Crackenburne’s connections. With his assistance, I was able to get into the house before the body was removed and study the bedchamber where the man had died. I found the ring on his desk. But that was not all I discovered.”

  “What else did you learn?”

  “There was also some mud on the windowsill. It looked as though someone had climbed into the bedchamber that night, perhaps to tamper with the laudanum. In the garden below the bedchamber, I discovered a scrap of fine black silk that had snagged on a tree branch. I eventually located the shop where it had been sold and got a description of the man who had purchased it.”

  “Brilliant work, sir.”

  “Other clues came to light.” Tobias paused. “I will not bore you with the rest of the details. Suffice it to say that one thing led to another and eventually I identified the killer. But he realized that I was closing in on him.”

  “Did he flee the country?”

  Tobias put one foot on the low stone wall and braced his forearm on his thigh. He appeared to be lost in whatever he was looking at on the dark horizon.

  “No,” he said eventually. “He considered himself a gentleman who had challenged me to a lethal duel of sorts. When he perceived that he had lost, he chose to put a pistol to his head.”

  “I see.”

  “I found his collection of memento-mori rings together with his journal of accounts detailing the crimes stored in a hidden safe in his study.”

  “Good heavens, he actually kept a journal of accounts?”

  “Yes.”

  “What of the rings? Why did he leave them at the scenes of his crimes?”

  “I believe that the rings were his signature, his way of taking credit for the murders.”

  She stared at him, appalled. “You mean he signed his horrid deeds the way an artist signs a painting?”

  “Yes. He took pride in his skills, you see. Obviously, he could not risk boasting openly in his club, so he settled for leaving a memento-mori ring among the victims’ possessions.”

  “Thank God you realized what he was about and put a stop to his career.”

  “The entire affair was hushed up, of course. There was never any direct proof of murder, and none of the wealthy families involved wanted to invite the scandal of an investigation.” Tobias’s voice hardened. “I have often thought that if I had paid closer attention and acted more quickly, I might have saved some lives.”

  “Rubbish.” She went to stand directly in front of him. “That is quite enough of that sort of talk, Tobias. I will not have you blaming yourself because you did not solve the case immediately. It sounds as if no one even realized that people were being murdered until you put the pieces of the puzzle together. Obviously you identified an extremely clever killer who would no doubt have continued to murder indefinitely if you had not stopped him.”

  Tobias clenched his hand very fiercely around the ring and said nothing.

  “Did this man commit murder merely for the sport of it?” she asked. “Or did he have some crazed motive?”

  “There is no doubt but that he did it, in part, for the money,” Tobias said. “He took fees for each of the deaths. The transactions were all neatly recorded in the journal of accounts, complete with the dates of the deeds and the amounts he had received. He was quite careful to protect his clients. Their names were not written down. Evidently they, in turn, never knew the identity of the man they had hired to do cold-blooded murder.”

  “A professional murderer for hire,” she whispered. “What a truly appalling way to make a living. You said this man was a gentleman?”

  “Indeed. He possessed excellent manners, an eye for fashion, and a good deal of charm. He was well-liked by both men and women. He never lacked for invitations. Belonged to two or three clubs. In short, he moved freely in Society.” Tobias looked at the little death's-head. “That was his hunting ground, you see.”

  “Hunting ground. What an unpleasant turn of phrase.”

  “He found his clients and his victims in the polite world. He had nothing but disd
ain for ordinary footpads, thieves, and murderers. He did not consider himself a common criminal.”

  “Yes, well, as we have discovered, sir, there are any number of criminals born into respectable circles.” She paused, concerned more than ever by his haunted mood. The events of that case three years ago had obviously been very personal for him. Her intuition flared. “Tobias, were you acquainted with this person before you learned that he murdered people for money? Did you consider him a friend?”

  “There was a time when I would have trusted Zachary Elland with my life. In fact, there were occasions when I did precisely that.”

  The stark admission told her everything she needed to know.

  “I am so sorry.” She touched his shoulder. “How terrible it must have been for you to discover the truth.”

  “It was our bloody friendship that kept me from seeing the truth for so long.” The hand resting on his thigh tightened in a gesture of self-disgust. “He counted on that connection. He used it in the vicious game he played with me. He even pretended to help me investigate the killings.”

  “Tobias, you must not talk as if you failed. You solved the case.”

  He paid no attention to her. Instead, he gazed out over the moonlit woods beyond the gardens. “Crackenburne introduced us. He had been watching Zachary at the gaming tables because he knew that we needed someone skilled at cards for a particular investigation. He also sensed that Elland had the sort of temperament that would make him useful as a spy. Zachary enjoyed taking risks.”

  “I see.” She kept her hand on his shoulder, trying to give him some wordless comfort. “I still do not understand why all this concerns you so intimately, Tobias.”

  “I regret to say that I may have been the one who was responsible for setting him on the path that led him to become a murderer for hire.”

  “Sir, that is outrageous.” Shocked, she gripped his shoulder very tightly. “You cannot possibly mean that you are to blame for the fact that your friend became a killer. That is utter nonsense.”

  “I only wish that were true. But the fact of the matter is, the first entries in his journal were dated shortly after he and I began to work together.”

  “Tell me what made you conclude that you had a hand in turning him into a killer.”

  “I was his mentor. I taught him his craft as a spy. I was the one who gave him his assignments.” Tobias exhaled deeply. “He certainly had an aptitude for the work.”

  “Go on.”

  “On his second assignment, there was an incident. I should have paid more heed.”

  “Describe this incident,” she said crisply.

  “I had set him to follow a man we suspected of having a direct link to a ring of traitors. According to Zachary, his quarry spotted him and pulled out a knife, intending to murder him. Zachary told me later that he was forced to defend himself. He killed the man and got rid of the body in the river. At the time there was no reason to question his version of events.”

  “Pray continue.”

  “Zachary acquitted himself well in that investigation and was eager for more of the same sort of work,” Tobias said. “Crackenburne’s highly placed friends in the government were extremely pleased. The death of the traitor certainly did not bother them. I was told to give Elland other tasks.”

  “Were there more such deaths?”

  “One more that I was aware of. Again, Crackenburne’s friends in the government agreed that it was a clear case of self-defense, and since the man who died was a killer himself, no one shed any tears. There may have been two other such incidents. I will never know for certain. Zachary did not admit to them, and no one wished to conduct an investigation.”

  “Because the deaths were convenient for the government?”

  “Not only that, they resulted in the acquisition of vital French military and shipping intelligence.” Tobias hesitated. “I have often wondered if Zachary acquired a taste for the business of murder during that time when he served as a spy.”

  “But what happened after Napoleon was defeated the first time?”

  “Zachary went back to the gaming tables. He seemed to be doing rather well for himself. Our paths separated. We met on occasion in the clubs, but for the most part we saw little of each other.”

  “Is that when you first heard rumors of mysterious deaths in the polite world?”

  “Yes, I suppose so. But I must admit that the occasional demise of an elderly lord or a rich widow did not arouse curiosity or interest in me or anyone else. I was busy with my career as a man of business and raising Anthony. There was little time to spare for idle speculation. Then Napoleon escaped from Elba and we were once again at war.”

  “And Crackenburne summoned you back to your other profession,” she said.

  “He also summoned Zachary. But this time Crackenburne did not ask me to give Elland his instructions. Elland and I were colleagues of a sort and we exchanged information, but we did not work together.”

  “When did you become suspicious of him?”

  “In the months following the victory at Waterloo, the series of suicides and accidents I mentioned occurred in a fairly short span of time. At that point I was on my way to establishing my new career as a private-inquiry agent. I began to notice some of the similar details of the deaths, as I told you.”

  “And you eventually tracked down Zachary Elland,” she concluded.

  “Yes. In the course of the investigation I showed the death's-head rings to Crackenburne. He remembered old rumors of a professional murderer who had once used the same signature. They called him the Memento-Mori Man. It was said that no one who met him and learned his true identity ever lived to tell the tale. Elland obviously had heard the stories and decided to pattern himself on a legend.”

  “Tobias, listen to me. Elland’s decision to become a professional murderer had nothing whatsoever to do with the work he did for you.”

  “There was a note in the safe where I discovered the rings and the journal. It was addressed to me. In it Zachary said that if I found the letter it meant that I had won. He congratulated me as though I were the victor in a chess match.”

  “Such villainy is almost incomprehensible.”

  “In the note he informed me that I was a worthy opponent. The last line of the letter read, It is the thrill of the hunt that I will miss the most.”

  “He was truly a monster.”

  “I must tell you,” Tobias said in a low voice, “there are times when I can comprehend his passion for the hunt all too well.”

  “Tobias.”

  “There is a very intense sensation that comes over me when I know that I have picked up the scent of the quarry. There is no denying that there is a certain dark thrill attached to the business.” He looked at her across the candle. In the light of flaring flame, his eyes glowed like those of some great beast of the night. “Elland once told me that he thought the two of us had a great deal in common. He may have been right.”

  “Stop it at once, Tobias.” She squeezed his arm very fiercely. “Do not dare to suggest that you and Elland were alike in any way. To take satisfaction in the hunt is one thing. It is your nature to seek answers and to see that justice is done. It is quite another matter altogether to take pleasure in death. We both know that you could never do that.”

  “Sometimes late at night, I have wondered if the difference between Elland and myself is only a matter of degree.”

  “Damnation, Tobias, I will not abide such foolish talk. Do you hear me, sir?”

  He smiled humorlessly. “Yes, Mrs. Lake, I hear you.”

  “I never met your old acquaintance, but I can assure you that you and Zachary Elland are as different as night and day.”

  “Are you quite certain of that, madam?” he asked much too softly.

  “I am absolutely positive of that fact. My intuition, as you well know, is extremely keen.” She wanted to shake him. “You are no killer, Tobias March.”

  Tobias did not say a word, but his ga
ze was disconcertingly steady. Belatedly, she thought about their last case, the one she had privately titled the Affair of the Mad Mesmerist in her journal.

  She cleared her throat. “Yes, well, there may have been one or two unfortunate incidents along the way over the years, but they were accidents, as it were.”

  “Accidents,” Tobias repeated neutrally.

  “No, not accidents,” she corrected instantly. “Desperate acts of great bravery required to save the lives of others such as myself. Most definitely not cold-blooded murder. There is a vast difference, Tobias.” She drew a breath. “Now, then, enough of that subject. Tell me where Aspasia Gray fits into this affair.”

  “Aspasia?” He frowned. “Did I not explain?”

  “No, sir, you did not.”

  “She was Zachary’s lover.”

  “Elland’s lover. I see. That explains a few things, I suppose.”

  “They met in the spring before Waterloo. Aspasia conceived a great passion for Elland, and he appeared equally enthralled by her. They made plans to wed. When Zachary returned to his work as a spy that summer, he used Aspasia’s entrée in Society to obtain access to certain wealthy people. We believe that in addition to using the introductions to gather intelligence, he also took advantage of those opportunities to acquire some of his private clients.”

  “Dear heaven.”

  “One evening Aspasia stumbled onto the truth about how Elland made his living. In her horror, she fled from him. I have often wondered if the real reason he put the pistol to his head that night was not because I was closing in on him but because he had lost the woman he loved.”

  “I find it rather difficult to believe that a killer would have such a romantic sensibility,” she muttered.

  “The odd thing is that, in his own way, Elland’s nature was both dramatic and romantic. He reminded me of an artist or poet who lusts after any experience that will provide him with the highest peaks of emotion and sensation.”

  “Without regard to the price he must pay?”

  “Elland never counted the cost. He lived for the next thrill.”