The Body in the Garden

by Katharine Schellman

  “Calm down,” he murmured. “Jem hid me in time.”

  Lily glanced at Miss Oswald. “Jem is the boy?”

  “I assume so. I told him to sneak the captain out the back.”

  “Good lad, that one. Raised in the Dials.” Jack nodded approvingly, wobbling a little before regaining his balance. “Quick head on his shoulders. Not enough time to sneak me out the back, but he hid me in the closet. And that, ladies, is how we got him.”

  “For God’s sake, stop dancing around it and tell me what happened!” This time Lily did not bother to hide her glare behind her program, not caring what the residents of other boxes might think of their conversation.

  Jack grinned. “They have more money than they should, to begin.”

  “How do you know?” Lily demanded.

  “Lacey said the firm just bought two ships. Not common for a shipping agent, that.”

  “No,” Miss Oswald put in confidently. “Ships are monstrously expensive, especially for such a small firm. They’d not have enough capital for ships in the normal line of things, unless the contracts from the War Office were shockingly grand.”

  Jack shook his head. “I saw the orders; they were large but not that large. But beyond that …” Jack leaned forward. “The general has a ledger of papers that is particularly intriguing.” Quietly, he described what he had seen in Mr. Lacey’s office, explaining about the missing shipping logs that corresponded with the government contracts. “I am sure he was taking them without Lacey’s knowledge. He’d not sneak around like that, otherwise.”

  “He was holding it when he came in,” Miss Oswald added. “The gray ledger, I mean. I saw it. And Lacey did not bat an eyelash at it, which means he must not know what it is.”

  Lily let out a shaky breath. “Thank God the general did not see you in there.”

  “Oh, he nearly did.” Jack grimaced. “Left my gloves and hat out when I hid. Stupid of me. All worked out, but it was a near thing. Hence the drinking.” He shrugged the matter off with a wry look. Though Lily suspected it had been more dangerous than he was willing to let on, she didn’t press him. He had made it out safely, and that was what mattered. “But we have him, ma’am. The general is our man.”

  “He must be,” Miss Oswald agreed. “But then, why was Lord Walter bribing the magistrate?”

  “Keeping the constables away from his family.” Lily sighed, feeling weak with relief to know, at last, that Serena’s husband was not a murderer. “Just as wealthy men with political ambitions have always done. He must have been worried that a drawn-out investigation by Bow Street could reflect poorly on him and wanted to make it go away.”

  Jack nodded. “Not the most honorable thing, but nothing much out of the common line of things either. You must be glad to know—”

  “A glass of wine, ladies?” Major Hastings’s voice made all three of them start, and Lily noticed out of the corner of her eye that Jack nearly lost his balance before dropping quickly into a seat. A servant with a tray of glasses began handing them around. “I apologize for taking so long; what a crush it is out there!”

  “I hope it was not too dreadful, sir,” Lily murmured as she accepted her own drink, wishing the errand had taken him twice as long. Still, she could admit to herself that it was for the best. If their private conversation had lasted any longer, the gossips might have begun to pay attention. So she put her social face back on and nudged Miss Oswald to do the same. “Did you see anyone of note while you were gone?”

  The major immediately began describing two politicians who had nearly come to blows during the promenade. Lily exchanged a glance with Jack and took a long drink of wine. Murder, unfortunately, would have to wait.

  * * *

  Worn out from her nervous day, Lily went straight to bed after the theater. But she couldn’t sleep, still uneasy over the danger into which she had sent her friends. The fire had been banked and burned down, but the drapes hung open a little, letting a dim spill of moonlight into the room. She had become accustomed to the noise of London, but tonight there was an odd silence that left too much space for her mind to fill.

  Sighing, Lily, threw off the covers. If she could not sleep, she would read. Surely a bit of Evelina or The Italian would prove distracting enough. Shrugging into her dressing gown, Lily padded on slippered feet toward the door, grateful for the unseasonable warmth that kept the floors from being too chilled.

  Outside, no shouts from pedestrians heading home or clamor of passing carriages broke the stillness. Which was why she could hear, very distinctly, the creak of floorboards in the hall.

  Lily paused, one hand on the doorknob, the back of her neck prickling. It could be one of her servants, of course. But none of them would have crept along so carefully, or paused just far enough away to be at the door of the other bedroom. Someone was checking to see which room was occupied. Someone wanted to know where she was sleeping.

  Moving as quickly as she could while staying silent, Lily felt her way toward her writing desk. Holding her breath and straining to hear the footsteps as they resumed their careful progress, she eased open the bottom drawer and closed her hand around the pistol inside.

  The footsteps paused outside her door, and the knob turned with a muffled click. Slowly, the door swung inward, opening toward Lily and blocking her from the intruder’s view.

  Whoever it was, he moved carefully. The curtains were still mostly drawn around the bed, leaving it shrouded and dark. The intruder inched forward. Lily held her breath, trying to make out something, any sort of distinguishing characteristic, but aside from the occasional shape of a breeches-clad leg, the figure was swathed in a dark driving coat that obscured any indication of size and shape. Lily was still trying to decide what to do when the man pulled something from under his coat.

  The light from the windows glinted on the barrel of a pistol, and the sharp click of a hammer being pulled back echoed quietly through the room.

  Lily screamed as the murderer fired at the place where her head should have been and, without stopping to think, swung up her own pistol and fired.

  CHAPTER 19

  The shot went wide—it had been years since she had fired Freddy’s gun, and she had forgotten that it threw left—and the intruder jumped, his own pistol clattering to the floor. The shock ran up Lily’s arm, but she didn’t drop her gun. There was no time to reload, but she had the presence of mind to realize that the butt of a pistol could make a good weapon on its own.

  There was no chance to use it, though. Before the echo of the shot had died away, the intruder was running, yanking the door open even farther as he dashed out. He moved too quickly for Lily, who had to stop to catch the door so it wouldn’t hit her. Stumbling into the hall, she saw him throw himself down the main stairs, boots pounding now that he had abandoned silence in favor of speed. Yelling for her servants, she chased after him.

  She gained the top of the steps in time to see the intruder collide with an unexpected figure. Anna had come running when she heard Lily’s cry for help, and the two grappled until he pushed her down and ran for the passage between the parlor and book-room.

  The side door, Lily realized. He had left it open for his escape. Not caring that she was still in her dressing gown or stopping to think what would happen if anyone saw her running out of her house in the middle of the night, Lily pelted after him.

  She was too late. As she dashed toward the street, hands smacking the stone wall of the house to keep her upright as she rounded the corner, she heard the clatter of hooves. The burglar was swinging astride a horse left just two doors down. All that she could clearly see was the dark tail and white socks of the horse’s hind legs as the rider galloped away.

  Lily cursed and tugged the billowing halves of her dressing gown closed. For an angry, shaking moment, she stared down the street.

  A sudden commotion behind her made her jump, and Lily turned just in time to see Carstairs run out the front door and vault his considerable person over the st
air railing. He was resplendent in a red dressing gown, his entire body coiled for a fight as if he were still in the prime of his boxing days. He scowled down the street in the direction the burglar had gone, then turned to Lily. “Are you hurt, madam?” His respectful tone was so at odds with his behavior that Lily barely suppressed a nervous giggle.

  “He had a horse,” she said instead, then shivered. He had planned well, of course, because he was no ordinary burglar. But she refused to let herself dwell on that fact or to be shaken into panic and inaction. She had a household to calm down.

  Mrs. Carstairs was waiting with Anna in the front hall when they went back inside, and both women turned to her, wanting to know what had happened. Lily thought she managed rather well. After she made sure Anna was unharmed—“Just shaken, Mrs. Adler, no harm done”—no one questioned her story that she had been on her way downstairs for a book when she found a burglar in the act of breaking in, or that there was no need to send for a constable because the bounder was long gone.

  “He won’t come back, in any case.” Mrs. Carstairs sounded almost proud. “Wherever did you learn to shoot, ma’am?”

  “My father,” Lily replied absently; she had reloaded her pistol in a businesslike manner as soon as there was time, much to the surprise of her audience. Wanting to avoid any other questions, she sent Anna back to bed. Mrs. Carstairs, practical and soothing as always, went to make sure that the maid was able to settle in after her fright. All seemed calm at last, and Lily, drooping with sudden exhaustion, was about to dismiss Carstairs for the night and pour herself a stiff drink when a sudden pounding at the front door made all of them jump.

  “What the devil …” Carstairs started toward the door, then hesitated. “Madam, perhaps …?”

  Lily ignored him, filled with something that could have been either fury or frustration. She cocked back the hammer on her pistol and yanked the door open herself, ready to give whoever was there an unexpected welcome.

  It was hard to say who was more surprised, Lily or her late-night visitor. “Jack?” She lowered the pistol quickly. “What the devil are you doing here?”

  They stared at each other for several stunned seconds, until Jack cleared his throat. “Were you going to shoot me?”

  “I very well might have, you idiot man. I repeat, what the devil are you doing here?”

  Jack cleared his throat again, glancing pointedly over Lily’s shoulder to where her very curious butler was watching. Lily sighed. There would be gossip about this all over Mayfair if she was not careful.

  “In or out, sir,” she said sharply. “I’ll not have you standing on my doorstep for anyone to see. I promise not to shoot.” Jack had the decency to look embarrassed as he came inside. “Carstairs, please go over all the doors and windows in the house before you retire. I doubt our burglar will come back, but better to be thorough.”

  “Mrs. Adler, what—” Jack began, but she cut him off with a raised hand and continued to speak to Carstairs.

  “Then have Anna make up a bed for herself in my dressing room. I will appreciate the company tonight, and I don’t want her to be alone after her fright.”

  “Of course, madam.” Carstairs looked relieved that his employer was providing herself with a chaperone.

  “And Carstairs?” Lily waited until she had his full attention. “I am sure I needn’t tell you how unwanted any sort of gossip about tonight would be. Above all things, I require discretion from those in my employ.”

  “Of course, Mrs. Adler.” He bowed. “You may rely on me.”

  “I am sure.” Lily favored him with a genuine smile, which faded as he left and she turned back to Jack.

  Who was watching her with concern. “Are you all right?”

  She sighed. “Book-room.” When he protested, she glared at him. “I have no desire to continue standing in my front hallway, and I want a drink. So you will come with me, and you will explain yourself.”

  She stalked out of the hall without pausing to see if he would follow, but as she went to pour herself a whiskey, she heard Jack close the door behind him. She settled into a plush chair and crossed her arms without inviting him to sit. Jack shifted uneasily as she stared at him, and it was he who finally broke the silence.

  “What happened here tonight? Don’t say nothing, Lily; you had a pistol. And I know there was some sort of commotion—”

  “And how do you know that?”

  He ran a hand through his hair, not meeting her eyes. “I had your house watched.” When Lily merely took a long drink, not saying anything, he continued anxiously. “I had to, Lily; you must see that.”

  “I must? I must see that you needed to invade my privacy, without my consent?” Her voice began to shake with fury. “How dare you?”

  “It was for your safety. Do you have any idea how dangerous what you are doing is?”

  “In fact I do.” Lily moved her pistol from her lap to the table next to her, and the movement was enough to silence Jack. She began to suspect that he was arguing not because he thought he was right, but because he felt uncomfortably wrong. “And what did you intend to do? Politely ask an intruder to leave? Defend me with your walking stick? Cause so much gossip by showing up on my doorstep in the middle of the night that I’d have to leave London entirely?”

  “You have to stop this. You’ve put yourself in far too much danger. If Freddy were here—”

  “But Freddy’s not here, is he? Freddy is dead.” Lily ignored Jack’s sharp intake of breath and barreled on, overwrought and angry and for once not caring who saw. “Freddy is dead, and he is not coming back, so this is my life now. I get to decide what to do with it, and I choose to do something that matters. What right have you to tell me otherwise?” He had no answer, and the silence stretched for several long moments before Lily sighed. “Who did you have do it?”

  Jack started. “What?”

  “Who is watching my home, Jack? I sincerely hope you were not sitting out there yourself.”

  “No, of course not. The boy from Lacy and West, Jem.” Jack laughed shortly, running his hands through his hair again. “I was afraid something like this would happen, so he had instructions to fetch me if he saw anything suspicious.”

  “He ran all the way to the Albany that quickly?”

  “St. James Street. I was at my club. Much closer.”

  “Ah.” Lily let the silence stretch once more, then asked, “Did he see anything useful?”

  Jack looked surprised at the question. “Just heard a commotion. Will you tell me what happened, Lily, or am I too much in disgrace?”

  She considered that long enough to make him shift from foot to foot, but at last she gestured him to take a seat and pour himself a drink as she filled him in on the night’s events. “I told the servants it must have been a common burglar, of course, and they seem to believe it.”

  “It wasn’t,” Jack said, and Lily shook her head.

  “No, it wasn’t.” They were quiet for a moment; then she continued briskly, “I think the best thing would be to have your boy keep watching, as he seems to be good at it. But I want to be clear, Captain, that he is to report what he sees to me, not you.”

  “You intend to keep going.”

  It was not a question, but Lily raised an eyebrow. “I assumed I had made that clear.”

  “Freddy would never forgive me if anything happened to you.”

  “You keep saying that.”

  “I feel responsible—”

  “But you aren’t.” Lily gritted her teeth in frustration, wanting him to understand. “I think about what Freddy would have wanted every day. Would he have approved? Or would he have wanted me to attend parties and teas and mind my own business? Perhaps. But when I close my eyes, I see Mr. Finch, cold and dead and lying in the dirt. I see a stack of money passed to the right hands that means his murderer goes free. I don’t care what that poor boy did or tried to do, that is not right. So if I have the chance to do something about it, I won’t turn my back on tha
t.” She lifted her chin. “I cannot.”

  Jack nodded slowly. “That was the reason Freddy wanted to go into Parliament. To do something that mattered.”

  “I know. And helping him do that would have been my work as well. It can’t be, anymore. I still love Freddy dearly, Jack, but I get to live my life now, as I wish. It is the one consolation I have.”

  Before Jack could reply, they were interrupted by Mrs. Carstairs’s discreet entrance. “Begging your pardon, ma’am. Carstairs has checked all the windows and locks, and Anna has a pallet made up in your dressing room. I wanted to see if you’ll be needing anything else?”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Carstairs. I knew I could count on you to see everything returned to normal.” The housekeeper flushed with pleasure at the praise, which was genuinely meant, but Lily sighed after she left. “If you wanted to change my mind, Captain, a better tactic would have been to suggest that I not put my servants in danger. I’d not have been able to forgive myself if anything had happened to them tonight.”

  “I shall remember that for the future.” Jack stood. “And I shall return to my own home, properly chastened, unless … do you feel safe for the rest of the night? Do you want me to stay?”

  “Oh no.” Lily raised her brows. “I am feeling moderately charitable towards you just now, so you should take your leave before I decide to be angry with you after all.” She stood. “Did Lady Walter procure you an invitation to the Carroways’ ball?”

  “No need, I was already invited. Father knew the family.”

  “Then I will see you tomorrow evening, but right now it is still the middle of the night, and I am going back to bed.”

  “Of course.” Jack bowed. “I wish you a good night.”

  “And Jack?” He paused in the doorway to look back, and Lily’s face softened. “Get some sleep yourself. You look as if you need it.”

  He grinned, unable to hide his relief. “Good night, Lily.”

  * * *