Bees in the Butterfly Garden (The Gilded Legacy)

by Maureen Lang

  Meg saw on Geoffrey’s face that he did indeed believe his mother’s words. Still, he hesitated. He looked at Meg, then at his mother.

  “Of course you can’t go through with marrying her,” Evie said. “It would mean turning your back on everything! On Nomi! Your father! Me and Pindar!”

  “I believe I do have to think this over,” he said quietly. Then he turned back to Meg, allowing his gaze to meet hers for a fleeting moment. “I’m terribly, terribly sorry, Miss Davenport. I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me.”

  In spite of his mother’s fierce scowl, Meg brushed the side of Geoffrey’s face. “There is nothing to forgive, Geoffrey. You’ve made the right decision.”

  She watched him walk quietly from the room, his mother following with her chin held high, leaving Meg alone with Evie.

  The look of triumph Meg expected to see on the girl was strangely absent. There was even a glimmer of guilt there, if Meg wasn’t mistaken.

  Perhaps there was hope for her yet.

  37

  Every time I get caught, it’s the same old thing: they ask me questions I don’t want to answer. Why don’t they just show me to my cell and forget the wasted interrogation?

  Maisie “Mad Doll” McCready

  Code of Thieves

  Meg went to the stairway, intent on staying in her room until Claire returned from her errand. What Evie had done might be understandable, even justified—hadn’t she only wanted to spare Geoffrey from Meg’s dishonest clutches?—but facing her wasn’t getting any easier.

  Before Meg went very far, the front door swung open and Claire called to her.

  “Meg! I just saw Mrs. Mason fairly pushing Geoffrey back home. Was he here?”

  Meg turned but did not descend the few stairs she’d mounted. Jude had come in beside Claire and was just removing his hat after setting aside a package and his walking stick.

  “He was here, but he . . . left.”

  “He made a visit so early in the day? It’s barely past noon!”

  Though Meg did not look at Evie, she saw the girl emerge from the parlor and slink by on the stairs, evidently on the way to her own room. “The Masons heard about the theft.”

  Claire climbed two of the bottom stairs, her eye on her sister. “They couldn’t have arrived home any sooner than last night! Did Evie tell them?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Meg said, grabbing Claire’s hand even as Claire hoisted her skirt as if to march up the remaining stairs in Evie’s wake. “The news was bound to travel anyway. Everyone on the block saw all of the police activity.”

  “That’s no excuse!” Claire said. “She didn’t have to help speed the news along.”

  Meg cast an imploring look at Jude, who stood uncertainly at the foot of the stairs.

  “Please come with me, Jude,” Meg said when Claire broke free. “You have such a calming effect on Claire. I don’t deserve her defense and I don’t want to be the cause of an argument.”

  It took no more than a moment for Jude to sprint up the stairs along with Meg. They were in time to see Claire emerge from Evie’s bedroom, leaving the door ajar, then burst into the aviary.

  “Evie!”

  Only the squawk of several birds answered.

  Evie stood near Pindar’s cage, but the bird wasn’t in it. He was on his favorite perch, Evie’s shoulder.

  “You will apologize this instant for causing trouble between Meg and the Masons,” Claire demanded.

  “I didn’t! She did that herself.” She stroked the belly of the bird. “I only made sure they knew about details their own staff couldn’t provide just yet.”

  Meg stepped closer to Claire, who had stopped not two feet from Evie. “She’s right, Claire. The Masons would have refused all contact with me once they learned the truth—learning what my father did would have been enough, let alone the rest.”

  “No one needed to know any of that. She made matters worse!” Claire’s anger wasn’t cooled, either by Meg or by Jude’s presence. “We’ve never encouraged gossip, and she’s done that with pure and selfish malice, in hopes of ending Geoffrey’s interest in Meg.”

  “Claire,” Jude said gently, “Evie might have wronged Meg, but it’s Meg’s choice to be angry or not, isn’t it? Not yours?”

  “But Geoffrey was Meg’s best chance at happiness!”

  “No, he wasn’t!” Evie said, so loudly that the bird on her shoulder fluttered his considerable wings. One of them hit the edge of his cage, sending it swinging.

  “Put that awful bird in its cage, Evie,” Claire said.

  “No, I won’t.” Evie took a step backward, but she must have lost her balance from the bird fairly bouncing on her arm. She nearly fell, catching herself on the bar that held Pindar’s home.

  “Another prank,” Pindar said. “Pretty bird. A prank.”

  Then he hopped from Evie onto the top of his enclosure.

  “No, Pindar!”

  Evie reached for the bird, but as she did, the entire metal structure crashed to the floor, the racket sending off immediate cackles and screeches from a dozen other creatures in various cages only half-visible in the verdant room.

  Flapping nearly two feet of wing, Pindar refused to go down with his cage. He latched on to Evie with his beak. First he used her sleeve to pull himself upward to her braid, effectively swinging toward his open stand, which sat close to the window and well away from the fallen hardware.

  With a cry and a hand to her pulled hair, Evie seemed relieved to be free of the large bird. Then she turned and flew at her sister, stopping almost nose to nose. “See what you’ve done! Go away, all of you!”

  “How is this my fault?” Claire demanded. “I didn’t know the cage was so precarious. We’ll have someone fix it or bring in something bigger. Not that Pindar is ever in it.”

  “Leave here!” Evie shrieked like one of her birds, her color high, eyes filled with anger. The birds around her refused to be quieted, joining in the pandemonium. “All of you! This is my place, and I don’t want any of you in it.”

  “Just a minute now,” Jude said, bending over the fallen mess. “Here’s the reason the cage fell, Claire. It was holding weight it was never meant to hold—not along with the bird, at any rate.”

  “No!”

  Despite Evie’s cry, Jude opened the cage door and reached past old newsprint near the bottom. Then, twisting his wrist to hold it just so, he withdrew a shiny, rectangular object stamped with an embellished letter P.

  A brick of gold.

  38

  When a young lady feels she has been wronged or insulted by a peer, she must first consider the wisest of advice before contemplating her reaction: do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

  Madame Marisse’s Handbook for Young Ladies

  “I was going to return it!”

  Evie pulled her hands close to her chest while sliding behind Pindar, her wide-eyed gaze darting between her sister and Meg. The bird prattled again about a prank, in between loud French words.

  “You took the gold?” Meg asked.

  “I only moved it! It’s mine anyway.” She stole a glance toward Claire. “Partly.”

  “But why? And when?”

  Evie’s breathing had increased rapidly, but even as her gaze still bounced between Meg and Claire, she slowly regained control when neither came any closer. Her hands dropped to her sides. Her shoulders rounded and her head hung low. She came away from Pindar’s perch as if exhausted, then plodded to the nearby chair. Once seated, she covered her face and burst into tears.

  Claire lunged at her, grabbing one of her sister’s wrists. “Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused this time, Evie? We had the police here! We told them we’d been robbed when we hadn’t!”

  Meg stepped closer, taking the chair next to Evie’s, the same one she’d sat upon not long after she arrived, when she’d promised no interest in Geoffrey. She gently touched the grip Claire had on her sister. The moment the two separated, Evi
e covered her face once again.

  “She wasn’t willing to show you any mercy, Meg,” Claire reminded her. “She deserves to be punished.”

  Meg looked at Claire, feeling the first smile in days cross her face. One of affection and admiration, but also sympathy. “Oh, Claire, you’re so eager to be kind to me but just as eager to judge your sister. Why is that, when the two of us are so much alike, Evie and I?”

  Evie slowly uncovered her eyes to look at Meg.

  “We’re both passionate about what we want,” Meg told her. “And clever but not very wise, I’m afraid. We made choices and never considered consequences.”

  “Are you going . . . to give me consequences?”

  Meg shook her head.

  Evie clearly did not believe her. “But when it was my turn against you, I chose revenge.”

  Meg put a hand on one of Evie’s shoulders. “Maybe when you’re older, you’ll be able to extend a little mercy to someone else because of what you’ve done. Because you’ll remember what you’re feeling right now.”

  Claire, still frowning, tapped one foot. “Just why did you take that brick, Evie? And when?”

  Evie sat up straighter, wiping away the last of her tears. “Yesterday.” She glanced Meg’s way again, but not for long. “I wanted her to get in trouble for it, but all I heard you and Nelson say was how innocent she was. She didn’t get in any trouble at all so long as only that silly seal was missing. So I waited in the library yesterday morning, until I could get to the safe without someone seeing me.”

  “And made sure something of value was taken,” Claire finished.

  Evie nodded, looking at the floor. “I only wanted to be sure Geoffrey found out she was a thief. That’s what she wanted to be, so I made sure everyone knew it. Especially Geoffrey.”

  “That would have happened without the added intrigue,” Meg told her.

  The girl looked at Meg, her eyes filled with renewed tears. “No, he didn’t lose interest in you at all. His mother just said he couldn’t have you and his family at the same time. I thought if he really believed you were a thief, he wouldn’t want to love you anymore.”

  She leaned away, sinking lower into the chair and covering her tearful face. Perhaps Meg should have comforted her, having so recently felt the relief of forgiveness herself. But two thoughts stopped her: doubt that Evie would welcome her touch and knowledge that Ian sat in a cell that very moment—because of Evie.

  Nor did Claire offer any consolation.

  Jude, holding the brick, turned it over in his palms. “I’ll see that Nelson adds this to the others.” Then he looked at Meg and said, “I’m sure he’ll want the charges dropped against Vandermey.”

  Meg stood. She wanted to feel hopeful, but if the authorities knew anything of Ian’s general pursuit of illegal gains, he wasn’t likely to be free anytime soon.

  None of that changed another important fact: Meg wasn’t a suitable partner for a thief.

  Not even one she loved.

  39

  My dear young ladies, I remind you that etiquette must be applied to each and every situation. However, never use etiquette to judge, to excuse, or to impress. Most especially, never let such rules be a replacement for the right and wrong you already know in your heart.

  Madame Marisse’s Handbook for Young Ladies

  Claire sent a messenger to Nelson’s office and he was home within the hour, joining Meg and the others in the parlor. Upon learning the whereabouts of the missing brick, he spared no more than a regretful glance upward, where Evie had been hiding in the aviary ever since the discovery.

  He then looked at Meg. “We’ll let our mother and father decide what’s to be done with Evie this time. But right now I have a client to see.”

  “A client?” Meg said.

  Claire, standing next to Meg, put an arm about her shoulders. “If I’m not mistaken, I believe he means Ian.”

  Nelson smiled, then retrieved the hat he’d carelessly tossed aside on a nearby chair and left the house once again.

  “Maguire!”

  Ian looked up from the gruel on his plate. He would welcome any interruption to this meal.

  The burly guard pointed a fist with a plump thumb sticking out of one side. “Visitor. Come with me.”

  Ian followed.

  “It’s your lawyer,” the guard said without looking back at Ian.

  That he had one was news to Ian, although he supposed a lawyer would have been appointed to him. He just hadn’t expected to have one so soon. When he’d confessed his real name and a list of his crimes, he assumed the city would let him stew awhile before inching toward their version of justice. Although to his knowledge he didn’t have a single arrest warrant against him, it wouldn’t take long to connect Ian’s confessions to evidence of crimes.

  But instead of seeing a young, unproven image of inexperience, he once again found Nelson Pemberton. Ian stopped, not even bothering to take a seat when Nelson pulled out the chair on his own side of the table.

  “There must be some mistake.”

  “No, no mistake,” Nelson said without looking up. He’d brought with him a satchel, from which he withdrew paper and a pencil. “Sit down, Mr. Ian Maguire. We have a lot of work to do.”

  Ian took a step forward. “So you know who I am. And you want to help me?” Though he issued the words like a question, he didn’t believe it for a moment. He didn’t even allow himself to hope it was true. What was the point, anyway? One of his potential victims defending him in court might make for sensational news—the kind Fifth Avenue normally sought to avoid—but it wasn’t likely to make a difference in the end. Ian was guilty, and soon everybody would know it. He was willing to pay the price; it was the right thing to do.

  There was only one court that should matter to Ian now. If he could just keep his mind on that one, maybe he could withstand the time he’d have to wait for it.

  “Before I arrived, I spoke to one of the officers who said you made a confession,” Nelson was saying. “Of course you’ll need to share that with me as well so we can formulate a case just as the prosecution does the same. But I’m hopeful we can avoid court altogether with a nontrial procedure. It means pleading guilty to whatever misdeeds—”

  “Which I am.” Ian shoved the chair far enough from the table on his side to take a seat, but not to join Nelson, who hovered over papers scribbled with various notes.

  Nelson looked up. “I’ll need your confession, Ian, to make sure it matches what the authorities will bring against you.”

  “You mean if I leave anything out—on either end?”

  “Mistakes are made every day,” Nelson said as if oblivious to the idea that someone might think Ian would intentionally leave something out. Didn’t Nelson believe, like so many others did, that lies were hard to keep straight?

  “I don’t understand,” Ian said. “Why are you doing this?”

  Nelson set aside the pencil and leaned over the table, staring at Ian in a way he couldn’t escape. “Was I mistaken, or did you not sincerely ask me to pray for you yesterday?”

  Ian pulled his gaze away. “Anybody can have a moment of weakness in a place like this.”

  Nelson was still staring, as if he could discern Ian’s thoughts despite his bravado. “Sometimes prayer changes the one who’s praying as much as the one being prayed for.”

  “I don’t think God needs to do much to change you, Pemberton. From all accounts, you’re a saint.”

  “Hardly. I was ready to leave you in here to rot, even though I still had doubts. Now let’s get back to my question. Was it a sincere request when you asked me to pray? Which is the act? Your words now or your request yesterday?”

  Ian knew this was a moment as powerful as the one when he’d stood in front of this man’s gold. Steal it, and stay the same thief he’d been since leaving that sugar factory so long ago. Refrain, and prove he was capable of loving Meg more than himself. He knew he hadn’t conquered that moment on his own power or even
through his love for Meg.

  Nor would he conquer this moment on his own. For once and for all, he needed to set aside his resentment that God had left him behind when He’d taken his family. He needed to let go of his pride and declare his faith publicly. It would be a declaration that could change his life even more than it already had.

  Pulling his chair closer to the table, Ian looked again at Nelson’s powerful stare. “The truth is, Pemberton, I might as well be one of those two thieves hung next to Christ, like in the picture you have in your home. But I want to be the one looking at Him, not the one who turned away. If it wasn’t too late for him, I’m hoping it’s not too late for me.”

  Nelson issued a quick but nonetheless pleased nod, then stuck his hands once again inside his case.

  Evidently finding what he sought, Nelson smiled and pulled out a leather-bound book. “That’s good to hear. Now let’s get to work on your defense. This city has been known to extend mercy in the right courts, and I intend to find one. Let’s start with why you broke into my safe at all, if you didn’t intend stealing anything. And tell me where my father’s seal is at this moment.”

  Telling the truth wasn’t nearly as hard as Ian thought it would be. Not even when he confessed what he’d done with the seal—perpetrated a fraud against another criminal—and where Nelson could find it now.

  It was that part of Ian’s confession which turned their conversation in a direction he never thought it would go. Somehow Ian suspected such a test might be condoned . . . by the Author of the Bible Ian took back to his cell.

  There was no sign of Nelson that entire day. Meg spent much of her time in the library, trying to take her mind off of what was happening to Ian. Would Nelson really defend him? A thief who might be innocent in one case but guilty in so many others? That would go against everything Nelson had stood for so far. Why would he do it?