The Masque of a Murderer (23 page)

When she disappeared, Lucy looked at Esther Whitby. “Please, how is Sarah?” she asked. “May I see her?”

Esther looked sad. “I am sorry to tell you that Sarah was quite upset after the constable stopped by. Much of her anger was directed at thee.”

“At me?” Lucy exclaimed. “Why ever for?”

Esther looked around and then stepped outside beside Lucy, pulling the door behind her, so that it was almost completely shut.

“Lucy,” she whispered, “Sarah told me everything.”

“She did?” Lucy asked, feeling a bit stunned. What was Sarah thinking? “W-what did she tell you?”

“Sarah told me how my dear husband was so worried for my safety when he died, and how he passed that worry on to thee,” Esther said, wrapping her arms around her chest to keep warm. In the cold air, her eyes had grown shiny and luminous. “Is that so?”

Lucy nodded cautiously, being unsure what else Sarah had confided. “But why is she angry at me?” she asked.

“She thinks that thou told the constable and that is why he came making inquiries. She is concerned that this rash action may have put me in more danger, and she is angry that thou wouldst willingly send authorities to her door.” She touched Lucy’s arm. “Let me assure thee, I do not see the situation as Sarah does. I do not believe that someone near me wishes me harm.”

“But your husband—?”

Esther smiled kindly. “My husband suffered a terrible accident, an accident which confused him in his dying moments.”

“What about his sister? Miss Whitby? She was killed, too!”

“That such a terrible thing happened to my dear sister-in-law will always bring a deep pain to my heart. A senseless tragedy, but one, I am sure, that is wholly unconnected to us.” She smiled slightly. “I simply cannot believe that I am in danger from any of those I call a friend.” Her smiled faded. “If anything, I have seen a woman who stalks me. A woman with a bell who communes with the dead. She watches me, day and night.” Her teeth began to chatter, and her lips were turning a bright blue.

“How terrible!” Lucy said, pretending she knew nothing of it. “Has she hurt you?”

“She has never touched me, praise God.” Esther gripped her arm. “I never walk alone. Sarah or someone has always accompanied me. I believe I am safe. But a more loathsome foul creature thou couldst scarcely imagine.”

Recalling the ominous words she had overheard Sam say the other day, Lucy asked as casually as she could, “Have you seen that woman today? Or yesterday, perchance?” Stumbling under Esther’s curious gaze, she added, “Is she still stalking you, do you think?”
Or has she been killed by one of your acquaintances?
Lucy could not help but think to herself.

Esther hesitated. “I do not recall seeing her these last few days. ’Tis no matter, though, for soon we will be rid of the woman’s sickening gaze altogether.”

“Oh?” Lucy asked.

“Yes.” Esther smiled, her eyes shining yet more brightly. “Some among us have once again been called to resume our travels. We shall be leaving London very soon.”

Theodora returned then with the coins, looking at them curiously. “Esther, get inside before thou dost freeze to death,” she scolded.

Dutifully, Esther went inside, after bidding Lucy a warm farewell. It seemed that her earlier chill had been dispelled for good.

As Lucy accepted the payment for the tracts from Theodora, she could not help but ask. “You are leaving? Will Sarah go, too?”

Theodora stared at her, an unreadable expression on her face. “We will not all go. I have not received the call, but the others have and shall be leaving soon. Within a few days.” For a moment she almost seemed sad. “It will likely be many months, even years, before Sarah and the others will return to England.”

With that, Theodora shut the door, leaving Lucy standing awkwardly on the stoop. “I must inform the magistrate,” she said to herself.

As she crossed a small field, she spied an old tree trunk that served as a fair enough table upon which she could write a quick note. Luckily, she still was carrying paper, ink, and the pen that she had purchased from the illicit stationer at Covent Garden.

Dear Sir,
she wrote awkwardly. It still seemed so presumptuous for her to write a letter to someone so far above herself. Moreover, her poor handwriting was all the worse for writing on a tree trunk. She hesitated. What could she write that would not alarm him but would let him know how important her message was? Hoping her words were not too atrocious, she wrote another line.
I have reason to believe that Miss Sarah will be leaving England again. I am fearful that—
She bit her lip, hesitating again. What to say? Then she finished the sentence quickly. 
—her traveling companions may not protect her as they might. I know not what else to tell you. I pray that there is something that can be done, although I know she Has Been Called.
She underlined all the words in the last sentence and then ended the note.
Your faithful servant, Lucy Campion.

Lucy wished she had some sealing wax. Spying a bit of sap oozing from the tree trunk, she dabbed a bit on. While a bit sticky, the sap effectively sealed the short letter.

Seeing that the sky was growing dark from the impending rain, Lucy picked up her belongings and moved as quickly as she could to the Hargraves’ household. When she discovered that the magistrate was not at home, she pressed the note into John’s hand, bidding him to give it to the magistrate as soon as he could.

She looked up at the sky with a sigh. Not wanting to be caught without a lantern to guide her along the dark and treacherous path, she broke into a run and did not stop until she reached the printer’s shop.

*   *   *

“Your note has put Father into a terrible state,” Adam said the next afternoon, having appeared at the printer’s shop without warning. “Quite cryptic. How do you know that Sarah is leaving? Did you determine who the impostor is? Is it one of her traveling companions?”

Lucy set down the cloth she had been using to wipe some spilled ink off the press. “Indeed, I do not know for certain. I am gravely concerned about who your sister will be traveling with to the New World.” Quickly, she filled Adam in on everything she had learned from Evie, Mr. Redicker, and the searcher. She also told him about the strange words she had heard Sam say to Gervase. He listened without interrupting, all the while watching her face closely.

Finally, when she was done, he spoke. “I must speak to Sarah,” he said. “Bid her to see reason. She cannot go on in this way. I will tell her to return home tonight.”

“Oh, Adam, I do not know if that will work,” Lucy said. “Your sister has been stubborn. I know she feels she is protecting Esther—indeed, that she has been called by the Lord to do so. I do not think she can be compelled to return to your father’s home just because you bid her to do so.”

He smiled, although there was still a shadow in his eyes when he looked at her. “Lucy, I must try. I am so concerned for her well-being, even if there is not a so-called impostor lurking about,” Adam said. “Lucy, I fear we are losing her.”

“I think she will come around,” Lucy said stoutly.

Adam looked down at her. “I have lost so much already. The city. The courts. So much has fallen apart, I can hardly bear to lose anything else.”

“But we are rebuilding,” Lucy said, wondering at his tone. Suddenly he seemed to be speaking about something other than the loss of his sister to the Quaker cause. “
You
are rebuilding.”

Adam looked at her, smiling slightly. “Thank you, Lucy. I am ever struck by your faith in me. It renews me. I should hate to lose it.”

“I do have faith in you,” she said, looking up at him.

Unexpectedly, he pulled her to him in a rare embrace. She found her cheek pressed against his elegant wool coat, and she breathed deeply. Without another word, he leaned down and kissed her, still holding her tightly to him. For a moment she forgot everything that she had been so worried about.

Unfortunately, the feeling was soon dispelled when she heard distant church bells toll. She stepped back slightly. “I should get back to work,” she said reluctantly.

Adam nodded. He seemed to be searching for words.

“What is it?” Lucy asked.

“The inquiries you make for Duncan,” he said, then stopped, his face still holding an unusual expression.

“Yes?” Lucy asked. Inexplicably, she felt her heart beginning to beat a little faster. “What about it?”

“You seem to enjoy helping him. Spending time with him.”

“I make those inquiries on behalf of your sister!” Lucy said. “I told you, I am worried about her, living with those Quakers. As I know you are worried about her, too. Besides, I felt that I owed it to your friend, Jacob Whitby, to help sort out the truth.”

“Yes, I know that is so, Lucy.” He was still looking at her in the same puzzled way. “It is just that I am not always sure anymore of”—he hesitated, looking a bit embarrassed—“of your heart.”

“Oh!” Lucy said, startled. Given their relative stations, his uncertainty was a bit charming. Before she could stop herself, she stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him again quickly, trying to prove to them both what was difficult for her to say. She tried to push the image of Duncan, unexpectedly holding her hand, out of her mind.

Adam grinned more fully then, looking a bit relieved. “I missed that,” he said. “For now, I will bid you good afternoon. Let us hope that I am able to convince my sister of the danger that surrounds her.”

16

On Sunday afternoon, Lucy entered the magistrate’s kitchen, breathless. John had stopped by with a note from the magistrate that morning, inviting her to join them for their noon meal after the church service was done. Master Hargrave had, it seemed, invited Sarah to dine as well.

She had run the whole way from church, fearing she would be late, only to find that the family had not sat down to the meal.

“Sarah has not arrived yet,” Annie whispered. “Do you think she is going to come at all?” She nudged Lucy. “The master said I was to inform him when Miss Sarah arrived. I think he plans to remain in his study until then.”

Lucy nodded. She was not altogether surprised that Sarah had not come. She wondered if Adam had spoken to his sister and, if so, whether she had listened to him.

“Just look what Cook made for us,” Annie said. Both looked longingly at the cold mince pie, chicken, and bread that were laid out on the table. There was even a cheese and apple tart, no doubt made with sugar. “I am hungry,” she added, pulling a crumbled piece off the edge of the bread.

“Not a taste, not even a crumb,” Cook said, slapping Annie’s fingers. “Not until Miss Sarah gets here. Or until the master gives his leave.”

For a while they all sat waiting, John sharpening knives one by one. They made small talk for a while, until the sound of distant church bells chiming the hour reminded Lucy of the time. Standing up, she put some mince pie and a bit of the tart on a wooden tray, along with a cup of mead. “How about I take this to Master Hargrave,” she said, nodding at Annie. “He’s still in his study.”

She was about to proceed with the tray when the magistrate emerged. As always, his quiet dignity subdued them. “I see my daughter has not arrived,” he said. He waved the tray away. “I was lost in my own thoughts and did not hear you come in, Lucy. Let us eat.”

After Master Hargrave said a quick prayer, Cook passed around the food. Annie sat awkwardly, not comfortable enough to speak in her master’s presence. The magistrate asked Lucy a few questions as they ate, mostly about her time at Master Aubrey’s. He seemed to be listening with only half an ear and did not even seem to notice when she stopped talking. They finished the meal in silence.

When they finished, the magistrate turned to her. “Lucy, I thank you for joining us today. I should very much like to ask for a favor from you,” he said with his unfailing courtesy. He gestured to the door leading to the corridor.

The chicken bone on which Annie had been loudly sucking made a soft popping sound as she pulled it from her mouth.

“Anything, sir,” Lucy replied, following him out of earshot of the others.

“As you know, I had asked Sarah to dine with me today, since I knew she would not be attending church. Indeed, I had hoped that she and I could discuss our differences while calmly breaking bread.” He rubbed his hands together. “To be truthful, I had hoped that you might help persuade her to stay.”

“Oh, sir, I—”

“I know, Lucy, that you were a good and loyal companion to her, no doubt keeping her from many a scrape. I’ve long prided myself on being a good judge of character. Though you were just a girl yourself, I never felt my faith in you—or your good judgment—to be misplaced.”

He waved away her stammered thanks. “I should very much like to see Sarah. To let her know that she has a home with me. I am very concerned by what you and Adam have told me, that she is planning to leave England again. That you are troubled by the companions with whom she is traveling. I should very much like to reclaim my daughter before I lose her forever.”

Hearing the sadness in his voice made her feel wretched, and the heartfelt simplicity of his request could not be refused. “How may I help, sir?”

“Will you please accompany me to Jacob Whitby’s home? Now? I should like to see my daughter and”—he broke off to collect himself—“bring her home if I can. A father can only pray, and hope that her conscience will lead her back to the family fold.”

*   *   *

A short while later, Lucy and Master Hargrave reached Jacob Whitby’s home. A few flakes of snow had begun to fall from a grayish sky. Winter seemed to have returned once again, tricking all the flowers that had finally begun to poke their buds during the spring thaw.

A sense of trepidation passing over her, Lucy knocked loudly on the door. Master Hargrave, she noticed, stayed out of the direct line of sight and had pulled his hat down low on his head. Theodora opened the door and stepped outside, looking at Lucy. Remembering their tight exchange the other day, Lucy firmed her stance.

“Yes?” Theodora said curtly, peering past Lucy.