A Conspiracy of Ravens (38 page)

“There you are,” he said.

Serafina moved forward and bent over the casket. Dylan did not. He turned slightly to one side and kept his eyes on the open door. He was not a fearful man, but something about this gave him a queasy feeling in his stomach. He saw her put the lantern down, reach into her pocket, and get something out, but he didn’t question her. She bent over the casket, and once again he turned his eyes away to avoid the sight of what she was working on. Then he heard her say, “Very well, Dylan. Put the lid back on.” Still looking away from the interior of the casket, he closed it.

“Now open the other one, please.”

The other casket opened as easily as the first, and Serafina went through the same procedure. He heard her say, “Now you can close this one.” He closed it quickly, and she said, “We can go now.”

Relief washed through Dylan, and he walked outside and said, “What now?”

“We’ve got to go to the lab.”

“You mean right now?”

“No, it might alarm someone if they simply found us missing in the morning. We’ll go back to the house. We’ll have breakfast, and then I’ll make up some excuse for us to go back to Trentwood.” She said, “Come along. I’ll explain what I’ve been doing.” Dylan listened carefully as she spoke, and by the time she got to the house, she turned to say, “We’ve got to go to the lab quickly.”

“Right after breakfast,” he said. “You think this will tell you something?”

“I’m a scientist. I don’t make guesses. I’ll give you my opinion though: it won’t take long at the lab before I will know something.”

The gaslights were on full in the laboratory. Septimus was not there, for which Serafina was grateful. She did not want to explain what she was doing. Her father had a rather solid connection with the police, and it was well for him not to know that she and Dylan had been out robbing graves. She worked quietly, and Dylan sat on a chair watching her carefully but saying nothing. She appreciated his silence, and by the time her work was finished, the sun was high in the sky. She looked at the clock and saw that it was ten minutes till noon. She came to stand before Dylan and said, “Now we know something.”

Dylan rose to his feet. “What is it, Serafina?”

“Both Leslie Hayden and his wife Edith were poisoned.”

Dylan stared at her in disbelief. “You can tell that? How can you tell?”

“They were poisoned by arsenic, Dylan. Arsenic is an element, so it never breaks down. It remains in its victim’s hair, fingernails, and urine. If you’re examining a fresh body, you can find an inflamed stomach and probably some arsenic in the digestive tract. The red blood cells are stored in the veins, and the body usually looks yellow and takes on the appearance of someone who has been very sick. But, of course, these bodies are too old for that. But the hair of both of them is filled with it. If we did a complete autopsy, which we may have to do, I’m sure we’ll find more arsenic in the remains.”

She fell silent, and Dylan said, “What are you thinking? Lady Leona Moore?”

“Certainly. There’s no question about it. We know she hated Edith for marrying Leslie, and then later on, after she killed Edith and married Leslie herself, she found out she could never have his heart or his love. Those had gone to Edith, so Leona killed him as some sort of punishment.”

“And how does this fit in with the death of Crinshaw?”

“I am thinking,” Serafina said slowly, “of how she confuses people, and how she relives the past. You remember how she mistook me for Edith, and she thought Trevor was Leslie? I found out also that she sometimes calls Lord Darby Leslie. They look very much alike, of course, so that was natural enough. But I think we’ve got to move quickly. She probably did the poisoning when she was in one of her spells. She may not even remember it, not when she’s in her normal state. But we’ve got to get back. We can’t take any chances. Come along, and we must hurry!”

TWENTY-FOUR

L
ady Leona had been sitting in her favourite chair crocheting. When the knock came at the door, she lifted her head and raised her voice, saying, “Come in.” She kept her eyes fixed on the door, and when Arthur stepped in, she put the crocheted piece down on the table beside her and said, “Arthur, come in. I thought you were the maid.”

“No, nothing so grand as that.” Arthur smiled. He came over and leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. “How do you feel today?” he inquired gently.

Leona hesitated then said, “Very well. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, it’s been a hard time with all this business about Crinshaw’s murder, and I worry about you.” He pulled a small chair up beside her and asked, “Do you think you could handle a bit of good news?”

Leona looked at her son and smiled slightly. “That’s been rare enough in this house. What is it?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking lately about myself. I know I haven’t been the kind of son that you wanted. I know I showed great weakness when I just gave up after my wife died. That was not manly of me.”

Leona reached out and touched her son’s cheek. “You loved her very much, didn’t you?”

“You know I did. She was my whole life, Mother, and when she went away it was like I couldn’t function.”

“I know well enough what that’s like.”

“I know,” he said. “You felt the same way about Father, didn’t you?”

“I loved him with all my heart. Except for you, I gave him more love than anyone else.”

The two sat there silently, and finally she shook her head as if to clear it and asked, “Well, what’s the good news you’re talking about?”

“Ever since Crinshaw died, something has been bothering me. He died so suddenly, and whatever plans he had he’ll never complete them now. I got to thinking about myself and my life and my painting. And I’ve made a decision.”

“You’re going to take up your career again?”

“Yes,” he said. His voice was eager, and his eyes were glowing with excitement. “I had no idea I had so many paintings. They’re stuffed everywhere in my studio. There are over a hundred and fifty of them. Some of them are not much, just beginner’s things. I’ve kept every painting I ever made, except those I gave away. But some of them are very good, and you know Hershel Townsend told me once that if I ever wanted to have a show, he would have it in his gallery. I’ve written him a letter, Mother, and told him I would like to have a show, and I know he’ll be agreeable.”

“Why, that’s wonderful, Arthur,” Leona said. She lifted her head and looked at him with something like pride in her eyes. “That would make me very happy indeed if you would come out of the shell you’ve been in.”

“Well, I have been in a shell, haven’t I? It hasn’t been fair to you nor to Gervase, and she’s been faithful to stay close to me. And I want to promise you this. No more heavy drinking.”

“There’s a good son,” Leona said warmly. “Now, why don’t you help me up to the attic. I’d like to see all those paintings.”

“Some of them you’ve never seen. You think the stairs would be too much for you?”

“Not with you to help me.” Leona got up out of her chair and took Arthur’s arm. The two of them left, and soon they were climbing the stairs.

He moved very slowly with his left arm around her waist and his right holding her arm, and as they ascended, he said, “I’d like very much to make you proud of me, Mother.”

“I am proud of you, Arthur. I always have been.”

The horse rose in the air, clearing the large log that had fallen across the riding path, but as he came down, he faltered and dug his front hooves into the ground so suddenly that Trevor was caught unprepared. He shot over the big bay’s head and turned a somersault, landing flat on his back. He saw the horse looming over him and feared that he would be trampled, but the hind hooves struck not one foot from his head, and he lay there for a moment weak with relief.

“Trevor! Trevor, are you all right?”

Trevor got to his feet and saw that Gervase, whose mount had cleared the same obstacle easily, had reined up and was coming back. She came up to him, and her eyes were wide. “Are you all right, Trevor?” she asked, her voice tense.

“Oh, yes, I’m fine. Just a clumsy oaf is all.”

“That was a hard fall. I’ve taken many like it myself.”

Trevor looked ruefully at the big bay named Pilot. “Pilot,” he said, “you’re a bad ’orse.” Then, changing his mind, he said, “No, you’re not.” He went up to the bay, held his hand out, and the bay nosed at it and nibbled at his fingers. “You just ’ad a bad rider.” He petted the horse on the neck and said, “No more jumping for me.”

“You frightened me to death,” Gervase said. “When I saw you go down, I was afraid Pilot would land on top of you.”

“So was I. You know, I always ’eard that your whole past flashes before you when you think you’re about to die.”

“Is that what happened?”

“No, I was too scared for that. All I could think of was a thousand pounds of ’orseflesh landing on my face.” He saw that she was still afraid, and he reached out and took her hand. “Don’t worry. I’m fine.”

“Let’s walk for a while,” she said.

“All right.” He picked up the reins, held them by the very end, and she did the same. They began to walk down the pathway. The snow lay in thin white ribbons, but the earth beneath was exposed for the most part. The ground had thawed somewhat and gave slightly under their feet. Large trees rose in ranks on each side of the riding path, and since the sun was past the meridian now, they were beginning to cast long shadows on the ground.

“This is really a pretty place, Gervase,” he said. “I’ve never seen anything like it. “

“I’m glad you think so. I’ve always loved it. When my father brought me here, I was too young to know much, but I have a few faint memories of how bad things were for him and for me for a while, of course. But then Silverthorn became a wonderful place to grow up.”

“What about your birth father?”

“He was a sailor. He was killed in action at sea. I don’t know much else about him.”

They walked along, and Trevor finally said, “I’ve been watching Father and Mother since I’ve come ’ere. They’re a ’appy pair. They really love each other.”

“Yes, they do, and you’ve made their happiness complete. I’m so thankful to God that you finally found your right place.”

Trevor suddenly halted and turned to face her. She stopped also, and the two stood still for a moment. She could see the clear resemblance to Edward Hayden in his face, and as always, it gave her a strong sense of satisfaction. She said, “You know, so many things don’t work out in this world, Trevor. There are so many bad endings to stories.”

“’Appy endings come mostly in books,” he agreed.

“But this is like a storybook ending. Here you are, an orphan leading a terrible life, and suddenly out of nowhere, you are found and restored to a loving father and mother who thought you were dead. It’s almost unbelievable.”

“It is to me. I sometimes lie in bed and think that after I go to sleep, I’ll wake up back in that awful ’ouse where I lived in London.”

“No, you’ve found your place.”

Suddenly he reached out and took her free hand with his. It was cold, and he said, “Your ’and is cold. You should wear gloves.”

“A horsewoman can’t wear gloves. She needs to feel the horse through the lines.” She was watching him steadily, and suddenly she smiled at him and said, “Anyway, you’re holding my hand.”

“Am I?”

“Yes, you are.”

“Well, that shows my poor breeding. To ’old a lady’s ’and is something that gentry would never do.”

“Oh, yes they would, and more than that, I’m afraid.”

He tightened his grip and said, “I want to ’ear about all of the young men that you’ve been interested in. Who gave you your first kiss?”

“Jonah Reardon,” she said promptly. “He was thirteen, and I was twelve. He grabbed me and kissed me, and I ran home crying. I washed my mouth off until my lips were sore. I knew so little. I was afraid I’d have a baby.”

Trevor suddenly laughed at her. “We learnt about life a little bit earlier than that in the Seven Dials district—most of it pretty bad.”

“You’re still holding my hand.”

“It’s from a sense of gratitude,” Trevor assured her. “If it weren’t for you, I think I would ’ave gone back. Father and Mother were nice, but I was afraid that I would never learn to be a gentleman.” He suddenly lifted her hand and kissed it. “First time I ever kissed a lady’s ’and.”