Serpent in the Garden (51 page)

As to why the necklace was taken and then returned, thus far I know only part of the story. It had nothing to do with the claimant, a certain Nell Lambton, who died, apparently from poverty, shortly after she received a visit from Sabine Mercier. It was your own daughter who took it, in her dread that Mrs. Mercier would force her to wear it at the forthcoming ball. Caroline detested Mrs. Mercier, for she believed her responsible for the death of her mother—whether this was so is impossible for me to ascertain—and for this she developed a morbid dread of the jewel and Mrs. Mercier herself.

Before I follow your wish and leave Astley, I intend to verify all of this by approaching the culprit. I am aware that in doing so my own life may be jeopardized, but I view it as recompense for my foolhardy conversation that cost your daughter her life. I set these facts down here so that, no matter what fate holds for me, you will know what happened and decide what should be done.

I am, sir, your humble servant,

                                               Joshua Pope

N
EXT DAY the clouds had lifted and the deluge was spent. At five minutes before nine, Joshua closed the side door to Astley House and walked, in blazing sunshine, through the kitchen gardens toward the gate where he had left his horse tethered the previous day. As he passed by the pinery he remarked how magnificent the building looked, freshly washed by rain. Its glass panels sparkled in the morning light; the verdure of the plants within seemed more lush and bountiful than he remembered; truly, he thought, there were occasions when plants could seem as imposing and worthy of an artist’s attentions as people.

Joshua caught sight of Granger busy inside the pinery. He looked as he always did, easy, complacent, rugged of hair, and regular of feature, apart from the disfiguring scar on his cheek. Hearing the crunch of Joshua’s boots on the gravel path outside, Granger glanced up, but then, seeing who it was, he gave Joshua a brisk nod and continued with his work. Joshua progressed toward the atrium beneath the cupola, trying to ignore a lurching sensation in his stomach. His chin was held high. His letter was written and despatched; whatever happened now, the truth would be known.

As Joshua opened the door leading from the atrium to the pinery he saw that Granger was removing dead leaves from the larger pineapple plants with a small pair of shears. “Good day to you, Mr. Pope. Are you quite recovered?” said Granger, pausing between plants after Joshua bowed and bade him good morning. “I am astonished to see you so soon out of bed after yesterday …”

“I am perfectly well, Mr. Granger. In fact I am returning directly to London. I felt I should exchange a few words with you before leaving.”

Granger moved to the next plant and began to examine it closely for any imperfections of foliage, stroking each leaf with his long, delicate fingers. Even though it was stiflingly hot within the pinery, for some reason this gesture made Joshua shiver.

“Thank God we found you when we did, or you might not be so well recovered,” said Granger.

Joshua could not allow this remark to pass unchallenged. “Forgive me, Mr. Granger, but were it not for a certain amount of good fortune and my own presence of mind, three people would have drowned. I believe I have you to thank for that dreadful event rather than for saving me. Indeed, that is why I have come.”

“What do you mean? I warned you not to enter there, did I not?” His voice was calm, yet laden with perplexity.

“You warned me, but you left a trap that you knew I would not ignore.”

Granger’s affectation of bewilderment continued. He shook his head, half smiling. “I fear I do not comprehend, sir.”

“I mean that when Mr. Brown arrived earlier yesterday at Astley and mentioned he was waiting for my arrival, you must have feared that he had connected recent events here with the history of Beechwood. You knew Brown had been commissioned to work at Beechwood some years ago, and told me as much yourself. You crept up on him while he was alone in the grotto, struck him on the head, trussed him up, and dragged him to the inner chamber. You probably knew he wasn’t dead, but instead of despatching him forthwith, you decided to lure me to the grotto when I arrived, and then put an end to two troublesome birds with a single murderous flood, which you could easily pass off as an accident.”

Granger shook his head as if what had been said was too ludicrous to warrant denying. “I’m sorry, sir, but what has my time at Beechwood to do with any of this? I have made no secret of it.”

“Beechwood is your motive, Granger. You should have been its heir. Your mother was the ill-fated countess of Burghley, chatelaine of Beechwood and once the owner of the serpent necklace. Her tragic losses at cards set in motion this entire sequence of events. Brown told me little I had not discovered except for two crucial pieces of information: the countess lived at Beechwood and she had a child who survived her. Brown didn’t know her name or that of her child, but it was an easy matter for me to consult a historical gazetteer of Bedfordshire. I soon found the relevant entry, which names the previous incumbent as Sybil Granger, countess of Burghley, mother of two sons, one deceased.”

With this Granger raised himself up and gave Joshua a look of curious superiority, as if Joshua were a strange beetle that he had spied upon a leaf and it was a dozen halfpennies to sixpence whether he would squash him beneath his boot or place him in his hand. “How do you know this orphaned child and I are one and the same?”

“You were recognized by Mrs. Bowles, who was raised in the same village. That was why you were deep in conversation with her the other day. There is a very fine portrait hanging in your parlor of a lady who I hazard is your mother. The arms on the cup in her hand are doubtless those of the Burghley family, your family, for since the death of your brother and father you have been Earl Burghley.”

“Does your theory rest only upon my title?”

“No, for Mrs. Mercier found Hoare, but of course it should have been you, for it is your practice, I have remarked, to go to the pinery first thing every morning, and you later told me that earlier that morning, on discovering the boy had fallen asleep, you took steps to regulate the heat. To open the windows you must have stepped over the body. At the very least you would have seen the damaged pots lying about, yet you said nothing.”

Joshua was watching Granger’s profile as he spoke and he saw it undergo a most remarkable transformation. The muscles in his jaw twitched, a vein in his neck bulged, and his entire expression seemed to bunch up with unpredictable, unmistakable hostility. He paused, waiting for Granger’s response, but Granger said nothing. After a while Joshua saw he didn’t need to hear his answer, for there was guilt written in every fiber of him.

“You also said you were too busy with your work to see Caroline or her assailant go into the pinery. You lied in Caroline’s case, but you told the truth regarding the assailant—you saw no one because the assailant was you.”

Again there was a long silence, during which Granger continued steadily shearing off leaves. The only signs of his inner agitation were the speed with which he cut and snipped and the droplets of sweat that ran in conspicuous rivulets down his face. Eventually he was forced to stop snipping and wipe his face with the back of his hand. As he did so the violence in his manner seemed to ebb a little. He had the resigned manner of a man of substance surveying his domain before relinquishing it. “You speak as if you know everything, but what can you know of my sufferings? My life has been ruined by my mother’s folly. By the turn of a card in the hand of a frivolous woman the earl of Burghley has become a gardener. Is that just?”

“The same thing, give or take a little, has happened to Miss Manning. You told me so yourself. Yet she has managed to restrain herself from resorting to murder.”

“She tried other unconventional methods to retrieve her property, though, did she not?”

The knowing smile that accompanied this retort made Joshua’s cheeks burn. Surely he couldn’t know of Lizzie’s nocturnal visit to his chamber? Joshua had no chance to probe him on this matter before Granger continued.

“The necklace does belong to me. It has virtually jumped into my hand. When Mr. Bentnick picked his new bride from thousands of miles away and she arrived wearing the necklace, I read that as a sign of destiny: a sign my situation was about to be redressed. The cruel fate that had deprived me of my inheritance had returned it within my orbit. I was destined to pursue it.”

“It was a great coincidence, was it not, to find yourself working at the residence of the woman who had your mother’s necklace?”

Granger shook his head and smiled. “It was no coincidence. I followed it, as I have followed other possessions of hers, although I will allow that fate helped. The portrait you mentioned was the first thing I recovered. I took it from a place where I was employed last year. The necklace was to be the second. The fact my mother lost it in Barbados to Charles Mercier was no secret. When Mr. Bentnick’s betrothal was announced, and along with that, he put out word he wanted a gardener with knowledge of rearing pineapples, I could hardly resist applying. I read up on the subject and convinced him I knew more than anyone else.”

Joshua nodded his head knowingly. “I am not without sympathy for your case. But as I said, the evil acts you committed allow no justification.”

“Why should I justify anything to you, when a higher force has propelled my actions? Hoare died as a result of an opportunity that presented itself. Caroline Bentnick died as a result of injudicious talk. None of this happened by my instigation. Fate decreed it.”

Granger seemed to be growing agitated. But Joshua would never rest easy unless he discovered the truth, and Granger was the only person alive who knew it.

“Why did you kill Hoare?”

“To protect the necklace. Because he threatened to remove it from Astley and hand it to the bastard daughter of the man who robbed my mother. It had only just come within my grasp and he wanted to take it away. I might never have regained possession of it if that had happened.”

“And so you lured him to the pinery?”

“No. As I said, it was all done for me. Sabine Mercier did it.”

“How so?”

“She wrote to Cobb, disguising her hand as her daughter’s, asking him to a nocturnal meeting. She wanted to try to dissuade him from eloping with her daughter. For some reason Hoare arrived in Cobb’s place. I knew who he was because I had watched him at the Star and Garter. But Sabine had never met either man and so she took it for granted he was Cobb. Anyway, the pair of them sat down in the atrium. She, pretending to be friendly, offered him a drink she had specially prepared, and then took him for a stroll round the pinery. I shadowed them, an easy enough task in the dark. As he felt the first cramps in his belly, Sabine told him the drink she had given him contained a preparation made from unripe pineapple that would kill him unless she gave him another draft to counter it. She added that he should know, however, that unless he promised to stop pursuing the affair with Violet, she wouldn’t save him.”