“And then your father, with Lady Duxter … No one knew what was going on. So you decided to run. I am very glad you came to me for help.”
“I’d heard you used to be MI5. I never believed the stories, you know. Until now. Is it true you worked undercover at the Vatican as a Swiss Guard?”
“Stanley knew from the start, didn’t he?”
She bit her lip and nodded. “I knew they might be suspicious of him if I upped and vanished. So first, I gave him my permission to tell—if it looked like they, the police, were getting ready to stitch him up for a bum rap or something. Then I decided it was better to tell you everything I thought was going on. Thank you for letting him come stay with me, by the way. It was ever so thrilling, being in a safe house. I’ll write about that, one day.”
A bum rap. What had the child been reading? Owen, having reached a particularly delightful passage in his book, let out a shriek of pleasure.
“You did well, Poppy.”
“But … I am worried about my stepmother.”
“Worried?” She couldn’t be serious. Was this some form of survivor’s guilt? “Surely, she has lost the right for you to worry about her.”
“No, no. I mean … I guess what frightens me is that it took me so long to realize my stepmother was crazy. My father never saw it, either. Is this kind of denseness when it comes to people inherited? Will I go through life as some sort of gormless stooge?”
“First of all, you did start to realize something was off. And you realized it before a lot of professional investigators caught on to her.”
“But my father?”
“Your father was solid as a rock and not given to paranoia and suspicion. I shouldn’t worry, if I were you, but instead honor that solidity and be glad of his positive traits. Besides, you have such a spark of life to you. You are your own person.” He didn’t think it would be politic or necessary to mention that her rock-solid father had a reputation as being one of the dullest men in the history of the world. Poppy was different—perhaps the spark he referred to came from her mother, or it had skipped down a generation from her great-grandparents. He remembered Netta as being nothing if not lively, and Leo had been blade sharp. Poppy would be all right. She was already rebounding from what had been a shocking loss of nearly every blood relative she had had. And the stepmother who should have cared for her was of course no longer in the picture. Thank God.
“How are you getting on over at the Priory?”
“It’s fine. S’okay. Everyone is looking forward to the arrival of the baby.”
Jane had agreed to let Lord Duxter and his wife formally adopt her baby when it was born. Sadly, it would be born in prison, but that had not deterred Lord Duxter. Now that the truth was known he had, not without some trepidation, accepted responsibility for seeing that his child was not sent out to be raised by strangers. And Lady Duxter had shown what she was made of by agreeing to the adoption. Max was coming to appreciate the ties that bound that pair—marital ties much stronger than idle village gossip would have led anyone to believe.
Why had Jane Frost agreed to the adoption—apparently without much hesitation? According to DCI Cotton, she had reasoned it was one way of having a child of her blood attain a certain status in life—a status she herself had aimed for and failed so spectacularly to achieve.
“Lord Duxter seems to think I might have it in me to be a writer,” Poppy was saying, “and he’s doing what he can to help me. Arranging introductions to authors and agents. You know.”
“And Lady Duxter? She is also encouraging?”
“Oh, yes! She’s really rather sweet. I don’t think people realize that about her. She’s been most kind. She said to me more or less what you just said, when I talked to her. About things—you know.”
“What was that?”
“She said Jane had everyone fooled. And that the devil has many disguises. It’s how he gets away with murder so often. Normal people are trusting. Evil people know better.”
Max looked at her, into those sad, sparkling eyes. The awful eyeliner was gone, he noticed. Today she had on only a pale makeup, nearly white, and she had painted her lips ruby red. He was reminded again how much Poppy had lost in her young life—too much, too young. Most would crumble under that strain, become bitter. They might even, in their grief, surrender to the worst of all temptations—the desire to see others suffer as they themselves had suffered. And still, through it all, Poppy had retained that grace. That heaven-sent spirit that Max believed would sustain her.
“Amen to that,” said Max.
ALSO BY G.M. MALLIET
Devil’s Breath
The Haunted Season
A Demon Summer
Pagan Spring
A Fatal Winter
Wicked Autumn
Death at the Alma Mater
Death and the Lit Chick
Death of a Cozy Writer
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
G. M. MALLIET’s Death of a Cozy Writer received the Agatha Award for Best First Novel and was named one of the best books of 2008 by Kirkus Reviews. It went on to earn nominations for Anthony, Macavity, and Left Coast Crime Awards. The first books in the Max Tudor series—Wicked Autumn, A Fatal Winter, Pagan Spring, and A Demon Summer—also were nominated for the Agatha Award. She and her husband live in Virginia and travel frequently to the UK, the setting for many of her stories. Visit her at GMMalliet.com, or sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Author’s Note
Cast of Characters
Epigraph
PART I: ABSENT IN THE SPRING
1. Now You See It
2. May Day
PART II: IN THE CARDS
3. The Fool
4. Strength
5. The High Priestess
6. The Emperor and Empress
7. The Lovers
8. The Star
9. Judgment
PART III: AS IT LAYS
10. Death
11. The Hanged Man
12. The Tower
13. The Magician
14. Temperance
15. Wheel of Fortune
16. The Chariot
17. The Devil
18. The Hermit
PART IV: THE WORLD AND THE FLESH
19. The High Priest
20. The Moon
21. Justice
22. The World
23. The Flesh
24. And Everywhere, the Devil
25. Reshuffle
Also by G.M. Malliet
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
IN PRIOR’S WOOD. Copyright © 2018 by G. M. Malliet. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.minotaurbooks.com
Cover design by David Baldeosingh Rotstein
Cover photographs: landscape © David & Myrtlle/Arcangel; trees © TJmedia/Shutterstock.com
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-1-250-09280-9 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-250-09281-6 (ebook)
e-ISBN 9781250092816
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on 5442, or by email at [email protected].
First Edition: April 2018
In Prior's Wood Page 24