From the Charred Remains (31 page)

“You hid here, among the rats and the vermin.” Duncan gestured at the Frenchman’s shirt. “With Tilly’s blood still upon on you. Do you think that makes you look more or less guilty?”

“Can’t prove it was Tilly’s, now can you?” Durand snapped back. The tiny effort seemed to exhaust him, and he sank back.

Seeing the men reaching an impasse, Lucy jumped in. “You were the one blackmailing Lord Cumberland’s son?”

Durand clutched the blanket. “I did no such thing,” the card sharp replied. He glanced at the physician, who had finished binding his wound. “Monsieur Physician, I implore you. Tell me how I may take care of this painful wound. I feel weak.”

“He cannot stay here,” the physician agreed. “He must be moved to the hospital.” For the next few minutes, the constable and Sheridan occupied themselves with creating a makeshift sling from boards and a bit of blanket they had found in the cooper’s cellar.

Lucy remained, kneeling by the injured man. Indeed, Durand looked quite pathetic, but Lucy did not want to let go. “Tilly could not have written those notes to Master Clifford and Ashton Hendricks. We know you wrote them,” she whispered.

He sighed, giving in. “Tilly, rest her hardened soul, had a way of finding out secrets. She convinced me that no one would be hurt. Her unfortunate demise proves how wrong she was.”

Still whispering, Lucy asked. “What truly happened at the Cheshire Cheese? What did you know of Tahmin? Why did she turn those men on him?”

“I am not proud of that. I was angry with Tilly for that deception. It was petty, and I told her so. She wanted to protect me, with little thought to the harm she would do to that innocent man. She was a blackmailer, you understand? Her victim must not have known for sure who had been blackmailing him, but only knew to pay the bribe to someone at the Cheshire Cheese. Sometimes, she must have realized this victim planned to kill his blackmailer, so she pointed out that stranger—Tahmin?—to divert the attention from us.”

Jacques crossed himself, returning his gaze to the ceiling. “Tilly was greedy though, and continued to blackmail this person, arranging to get the bribes at different places. Alas, she has paid for her wrong many times over. The victim must have followed her to the Fox and Duck and, well, you know the rest.”

“Who?” Lucy whispered frantically. “Who was she blackmailing? You must know! The Earl? Was he the one who killed Tahmin? One of his men?”

Jacques only shook his head, laying still, not even moaning. It was clear he was not going to say another word. Perhaps he really didn’t know.

Despite her frustration, Lucy wiped his forehead with a cool cloth. She stepped back to allow the other men to transfer Durand to the sling. The physician carefully checked that the man was tightly secured, so that he would not slip when they transported him up the rickety cellar stairs into the alley and into the waiting cart. Lucy followed them up the steps. A sudden thought occurred to her. “Wait!” she called to the three men in front of her.

The constable and Sheridan shifted uncomfortably with their burden. The card sharp seemed to have passed out. His eyes were closed again, but now his breathing was shallow and his flesh was looking gray.

“What is it, Lucy?” Duncan asked.

“Will he be safe at the hospital? Whoever tried to kill him might try again. And you may need him alive for a trial. Also,” she floundered, “I think he was the one doing the blackmailing, even though he says otherwise. You could imprison him later.”

“I’m not taking him on as a private patient,” the physician said. “This mess has taken me long enough from my other obligations.” He sighed. “Still, I think Lucy’s right.”

“I suppose we could keep him at the jail.” The constable looked around. “I’ve no time to be a wet nurse though.” He looked at Lucy.

She hesitated. She
had
done some nursing in the past, but she didn’t think Master Aubrey would take too kindly to the idea.

Thankfully, the physician intervened. “Sheridan here can take care of him. He needs a bit of real experience with this type of wound. Mind you don’t kill him, Sheridan.” He laughed at his apprentice’s dour expression. “Doctoring’s not all about tending the delicate ailments of winsome young ladies, despite what you might have learned at Cambridge.”

“Yes, sir,” Sheridan muttered, though clearly aghast at the suggestion.

The physician laughed again. “Well, I’ll be off then. I’ll send around Sheridan’s report for the inquest. I’m to dine at the Hargraves this evening.”

For a moment, his gaze seemed to rest meaningfully on Lucy and she shifted uncomfortably. Did the physician know about her close friendship with Adam? She knew he would not despise her for it, but he’d likely be uncomfortable with the idea.

“Well, we’re off then,” Duncan said abruptly, swinging his end of the card sharp’s sling into the cart.

“Careful, man!” the physician admonished, checking the man’s eyelids again. “He’s in enough pain as it is!”

Duncan looked a bit chagrined. He turned to Lucy without meeting her eyes. “There’s no room in the cart. I’ll accompany you back to Aubrey’s.”

“Of course,” Lucy said. She watched the cart rattle off. She looked up at Duncan. “Does this mean I’m not under arrest anymore?”

“I suppose.” He grinned. “You know I never truly arrested you. But you can tell everyone you are still under suspicion of Tilly’s murder. I am still collecting evidence.”

“You no longer think the murderer will come after me?” Lucy asked. “Even though you did before?”

Duncan ran a hand through his hair. Suddenly he looked much younger, less sure of himself. He started walking, and remained silent for most of the walk. As they approached Aubrey’s shop, he said, “I just wanted to make sure someone was protecting you. You said Aubrey would be back today?”

Darting a glance at him, she caught a look on his face that she’d seen more and more frequently. Her voice caught. “Yes. I’d best be off. Master Aubrey will be waiting for me.”

20

The next evening, Lucy set one of her new quills back in a little ink jar, appraising the scribbling in front of her. She had just finished writing a true account of Tilly’s murder and she didn’t completely know how she felt. Satisfied, that she had captured the story in a way she hoped would engage her listeners. Sad, that even a mean and blackmailing tavern maid like Tilly had her life cut short. But perhaps the story would serve as a means to memorialize Tilly in some way, and perhaps it would even be the means to avenge her death. Master Aubrey would be sure to print it.

Lucy frowned. That is, if the printer did not mind reading through all her scratched-over words. “Best copy it again,” she sighed. The physical act of writing still hurt her hand a bit, and her script was nothing like the elegant hand of the magistrate or his son.

She was still copiously copying the words onto a new sheet of milled paper when Will arrived home from work. She eyed him. At least he’d come home instead of returning to his most recent sweetheart. Laurel, she thought Will had said her name was, but truly it was hard to keep straight.

“What are you writing?” her brother asked, as he seated himself on the low bench by the fire. He pulled out one of his tools and began to polish it with a bit of soft sheepskin.

“Oh,” Lucy hesitated. “A True Account.” She wasn’t sure how to bring up Tilly’s murder without also mentioning the fact that she’d spent the previous night in jail.

Luckily, she was spared from having to offer more details because someone began to knock loudly on the shop’s shuttered windows. Flinching, Lucy could not help but remember the night before, when Duncan had appeared at the shop. Could it be the constable again? She wondered. Tonight’s pounding was equally insistent.

When she didn’t move, Will went over to the window and peered through a crack that Lach had cut in the shutters.

“Hmm,” Will said, with a backward glance at Lucy. “One of your suitors.” He then went over and pushed up the bar that kept the door shut. “Come in, Sir.”

The visitor turned out to be Adam. Barely acknowledging her brother, he came straight over to Lucy, who had stood up in alarm. “What in heaven’s name have you been doing?” he demanded. “I just learned from Dr. Larimer that you’d been arrested for murder?!”

“What?” Will slammed the door shut and stared at Lucy. “What in God’s name are you talking about?”

“I was going to tell you—” Lucy began.

Adam cut her off. “He also said you spent the night in jail? You visited the site of that poor woman’s murder? Lucy, what is going on?”

Will was looking increasingly confused. “Hang on. Who was murdered?”

“Tilly Baker,” Lucy and Adam said at the same time.

Will scratched his head. “Tilly Baker? Tilly Baker? That name’s familiar.”

“Well, you met her,” Lucy reminded her brother. “Remember? The barmaid at the Fox and Duck.”

“Ah, that one. Right, I remember.” Will eyed his sister. “You didn’t actually kill her, did you?”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “No, I most certainly did not. Moreover, Duncan didn’t truly arrest me.” Seeing Adam cross his arms, she added hastily, “Duncan thought I should stay at the jail for my own protection. He was concerned that the real murderer might come after me, but if it were known that I was the one who had been arrested, well, then the murderer would be able to relax, maybe let his guard down. While keeping me protected at the same time. Apparently,” Lucy added with a smile, “he did not think much of Lach’s abilities to protect me, should the real murderer come my way.”

Will protested. “I’d have taken care of you.”

“You weren’t here,” she said gently.

Her brother had the grace to flush when he discerned her meaning. “Oh, right. Sorry.”

“I could kill that constable,” Adam said, glaring at them both. “Why in heaven’s name didn’t you send word to Father? He’d have had you out of that bloody jail in an instant!”

Lucy tried to explain. “Lach was afraid to break curfew, afraid to carry a note to your father. Moreover, Duncan said that we should not put the magistrate in the position of looking like he was harboring a murderess in his household. I have to say I agreed with him.” She stuck out her chin, even though her body betrayed her by trembling. Her actions no longer seemed to have made as much sense as they did the night before, in the light of Adam’s anger.

Adam frowned. “I can’t say I like it, but it was certainly smart,” he admitted at last, grudgingly. “Still, were you planning to tell me?”

“Or me?” Will echoed. “You’ve been a little mouse, tonight, haven’t you? Keeping this tidbit to yourself?”

Lucy gestured to the broadside she had been writing. “I was going to let you read my True Account,” she teased, holding up the paper she’d been writing, trying in vain to lighten the tension in the room. “You’d have found out soon enough when Master Aubrey set this piece for tomorrow’s printing.”

“You-were-going-to-let-us-read-your-true-account?” Will said in a strangled voice. He and Adam exchanged an incredulous glance.

Both men stood shoulder to shoulder then, joined in their indignation toward Lucy. That was the first time they had ever looked alike. Will so fair, Adam so dark, but akin in their shared ire. Lucy wanted to giggle, but refrained. “Yes, it’s all here. Quite fascinating, if I may be so immodest.”

“This isn’t a lark, Lucy.” Adam frowned. “Murder’s no jest.”

“Of course it isn’t!” Lucy snapped, suddenly weary. “I suppose you think I enjoyed being escorted by the constable to the jail? I could see them staring. Everyone, as we passed them in the street. Do you think I liked being in the jail? All night?”

“He locked you up? In the jail?” Adam glanced at Will, both of them remembering the terrors of Newgate. She could read their thoughts. Even a makeshift jail was likely to be quite awful.

“Well, no, actually.” She hesitated. “I slept in Duncan’s—the constable’s—bed, in his rooms. He was very kind.” She searched Adam’s face, which had grown cold again.

Hearing Will tsk-tsk, she glared at her brother. At her searing look, he edged backward, retreating to his seat, far in the shadows. This was clearly a conversation he no longer wanted to take part in. She looked back at Adam. “Duncan stayed in another room, of course.” She rushed on, “The next morning, Dr. Larimer performed the dissection and then he wanted me to come with him and—” she broke off, seeing Adam’s perplexed expression. “What is it?”

Adam sighed, a weary sound. “Lucy, I’ll be honest. I’m confused. Why did you feel you had to speak to Tilly again at all? Why didn’t you just go tell the constable about your suspicions? Why in the world did you confront her? What if she had killed you?”

“Adam, I—” She stopped. The pain in his voice chastened her. She had not meant to worry him so. Distantly, Lucy heard Will quietly go upstairs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think before I went to Tilly. I don’t know why I did it.”

“Well, I do know why. It’s because you care about people. And you care about justice. I like those things about you. I’m just afraid you’re going to get yourself killed.”

She touched his hand. “I’m sorry,” she repeated.

He took her hand and gave her a weak smile. “Enough about that. You may as well tell me the rest. Dr. Larimer performed the dissection and—?”

Eagerly, Lucy told him all about what they’d learned about Tilly’s corpse, their visit to the Fox and Duck, and finding Jacques Durand. Adam sat down on the low bench, watching her face, occasionally asking her questions, but mostly listening. Throughout, Adam’s expression was thoughtful, reminding her a bit of the magistrate.

When she was done, to her relief, Adam smiled at her fondly, his earlier annoyance now dissipated. “I’ve no doubt, if you’d been born a man, you’d be a constable yourself. Or a lawyer. I believe you truly enjoy puzzling through the minds of criminals.”

Lucy smiled back, gesturing at the True Account. “And writing about them too. I don’t want their victims to be forgotten, just because they may be without family, wealth, or connections. Tahmin and Tilly deserve better. As do the living. Miss Water. Mister Hendricks. They all deserve justice.”