Crystal Gardens

  “No,” Sebastian said. “But I may want to ask you more questions at some other time. Do not leave Little Dixby until I give you permission. Is that clear?”

  “Perfectly clear, Mr. Sebastian.” Horace cleared his throat. “About my crystal lantern, I don’t suppose you found it by any chance? It was one of a kind.”

  “It is safe enough for the moment but the crystal appears to be dead.”

  Horace considered that for a moment. “I expect it was the explosion inside the maze. It no doubt ruined the tuning of the crystal. It’s very sensitive.”

  “My brother has a great interest in the science of the paranormal. He may wish to speak to you about your invention.”

  “Your brother?” Horace frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “It is not important now,” Sebastian said. He took Miss Ames’s arm and started toward the door. “We will deal with the matter some other time.”

  “Very well.”

  Sebastian paused at the door. “There is one thing I do not understand, Tolliver. Surely you saw enough examples of my uncle’s botanical experiments to know how dangerous it would be to start digging anywhere on the abbey grounds.”

  “I did try to warn Burton but he wouldn’t listen.”

  Sebastian shook his head.

  “Treasure hunters,” he said. “No common sense at all.”

  Twenty-nine

  Evangeline untied the strings of her bonnet and handed it to Molly. “Mr. Sebastian and I are both in need of tea. Would you please bring a tray to the library?”

  “Yes, Miss Ames,” Molly said. But she hesitated, bonnet in hand. “May I ask if you found those two men you were looking for? The intruders?”

  “Yes, Molly, we found them, thanks to your cousin,” Evangeline said.

  Lucas grunted in disgust. “For all the good it did.”

  “Are they going to be arrested?” Molly asked eagerly.

  “No,” Lucas said. He stalked down the hall toward the library. “They were treasure hunters, not killers.”

  Molly’s eyes widened. She turned back to Evangeline. “What does he mean, Miss Ames?”

  “It means he was mistaken,” Evangeline said. She stripped off her gloves. “Mr. Sebastian is not accustomed to making errors of that nature. It annoys him.”

  “Oh, I see.” Molly frowned. “Does that mean that his uncle and Mrs. Buckley were not murdered, after all?”

  “No, it does not mean that there was no murder done here at Crystal Gardens,” Lucas said very loudly from halfway down the hall. “It just means I have eliminated two of the possible suspects.”

  He vanished into the library. Evangeline smiled at Molly.

  “Tea, Molly,” she said.

  “Yes, Miss Ames.”

  Molly hung Evangeline’s bonnet on a peg and hurried off toward the kitchen. Evangeline dropped her gloves onto the hall table and went into the library. She eased the door closed behind her. Lucas was standing at the window, brooding on the cell door view of the gardens.

  “You are still certain that your uncle and Mrs. Buckley were murdered?” she asked.

  “I am still convinced that Uncle Chester’s death was not from natural causes. I thought I made it clear that I have never been absolutely positive about what happened to Mrs. Buckley. All I know is that it would be helpful to find her, dead or alive.”

  “I agree.” Evangeline sat down, absently adjusting her skirts.

  “I was so certain those two men killed him, Evangeline.”

  “It did seem the most likely answer; in fact some would say it still does. Tell me, why did you believe Horace Tolliver?”

  Lucas shrugged. “Damned if I know. I just did, that’s all I can say. Why? Do you have a different opinion?”

  “No, I’m inclined to agree with you.”

  “Now I must start over again from the beginning.” Lucas turned away from the window. “I have been far too obsessed with finding Horace and Burton Tolliver.”

  “With good reason. They were the last visitors here at Crystal Gardens, according to your uncle’s journal, and they have psychical abilities. They intruded onto the grounds. They were armed with a paranormal weapon that they employed against both Stone and yourself. Everything pointed toward their guilt.”

  “But they are not guilty. I’m sure of it.”

  She nodded. “As I said, I agree.”

  Lucas clasped his hands behind his back. “We must examine the evidence from another perspective.”

  Evangeline hid a small smile of satisfaction. She liked it that he had referred to the two of them as a team. “We are assuming that there were no other visitors here at the Gardens after the Tolliver brothers. But we arrived at that conclusion based on your uncle’s journal.”

  Lucas looked at her. “What are you thinking?”

  “Beth mentioned that Chester used his journals primarily to record his botanical experiments and to make notes of a scientific nature. He kept track of visits from colleagues and other botanists, but Beth says there was no mention of your own visits here at the abbey.”

  Lucas went back to the desk and picked up the silver letter opener. “He would not have seen any reason to note a visit from a member of his family in a journal devoted to his botanical experiments.”

  “Perhaps he did not bother to makes notes of other visitors, either, because he did not consider them colleagues.”

  Lucas tapped the tip of the letter opener against one palm. “He would not have noted the visit of a neighbor or a deliveryman. Nor would he have bothered to record a visit from someone local, someone with whom he was well acquainted.”

  A peremptory rap was the only warning before the door slammed open. Beth and Tony rushed into the room. Excitement radiated from both of them.

  “We have something very important to tell you, Lucas,” Beth said, breathless.

  “You learned the names of Chester’s two visitors,” Lucas said mildly. “Good work. But as it happens, we found them.”

  “Yes, we know that you discovered the identity of those two men and that you concluded they did not kill Uncle Chester,” Tony said. “That is not what we hurried back here to tell you. While we were in town we stopped at the telegraph office, as you suggested.”

  Beth turned to Evangeline and waved a slip of paper. “As it happens, a telegram had just come in for you, Evie. It was sent by your friend Miss Slate. The telegrapher was making arrangements to have it delivered by Mr. Applewhite. Naturally Tony and I brought it back here with us.”

  “Clarissa and Beatrice must have discovered something important.” Evangeline jumped to her feet and took the telegram. She read it quickly and looked up. “Douglas Mason had a brother.”

  “That fits with the information that we got from Stone’s agent,” Lucas said.

  “Ah, but there’s more,” Evangeline said proudly. “Clarissa and Beatrice discovered that the brother is an actor named Garrett Willoughby who recently appeared in a melodrama titled Lady Easton’s Secret.”

  “The theater ticket that I found on Sharpy Hobson’s body was for a performance of that play,” Lucas said. Energy shifted in the atmosphere. “This is excellent news. I will send Stone to London immediately.”

  “He may have some difficulty finding Mason’s brother,” Evangeline said. “According to the telegram the play closed last night. No one knows where Willoughby went. Clarissa and Beatrice are making further inquiries.”

  Thirty

  Don’t you ever sleep, Mr. Stone?” Molly asked.

  “Slept too much last night, thanks to that damn lantern weapon the intruders used on me,” Stone growled.

  “Thank the Lord you survived, I say.”

  They were standing on the terrace overlooking the Day Garden. Moonlight silvered the scene. With the advent of the new arrivals and yet another maid, Mr. Sebastian had announced that Molly and at least one of her cousins would be staying at the abbey until further notice. The number of people in residence made it necessary to have
some staff in the house at all times.

  Molly had checked the hall clock before heading outside with the mug of freshly brewed coffee that she had poured for Stone. It was going on ten o’clock. The house was quiet. Miss Ames had vanished upstairs after dinner to work on chapter four of her book. Mrs. Sebastian and Mrs. Hampton had retreated to their bedrooms. Mr. Sebastian and the twins were working in the library.

  Molly had waited until Stone slipped silently out the back door to take up his watch before she had followed with the mug.

  “I thought you might like some coffee,” she ventured.

  Stone was momentarily surprised by the small gesture but he took the mug quite readily. She liked the feel of his big hand brushing against her fingers.

  “Thank you,” he said. He inhaled with evident appreciation. “Smells good.”

  “Freshly made.”

  “The roasted chicken you fixed for dinner was the best I’ve ever eaten,” Stone said.

  “Like I told Miss Ames, a man your size needs his nourishment. Are you sure you’re recovered from that dreadful experience last night?”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t fall asleep tonight.” He sounded offended.

  “What will you do if those intruders come back?”

  “Mr. Sebastian and I talked about it earlier. We decided that if anyone tries to enter the grounds again I’m not to confront them alone. I’ll wake up Mr. Sebastian and we’ll deal with them together.”

  “I’ve never known anyone with paranormal talent until I met Miss Ames and Mr. Sebastian. Mind you, folks around here always knew there was something odd about Mr. Sebastian’s uncle, Chester, but I never saw much of him. He kept to himself for the most part.”

  “Did you ever meet his housekeeper?”

  “Oh, yes, a number of times. She wasn’t what you’d call sociable, though. She used to go into town a couple of times a week to shop. She always complained to the shopkeepers whenever Chester Sebastian had houseguests. She said visitors were a lot of work for her because her employer wouldn’t hire extra help.”

  “Any idea where she went after she found Chester Sebastian’s body?”

  “No, but I expect she retired. The Sebastians are rich. There would have been a pension.”

  “Mr. Sebastian says she would have been provided for but she never applied to him.”

  Molly struggled to comprehend that. “Do you mean that she never inquired after her pension?”

  “That’s what I’ve been told.”

  “That’s very strange,” Molly said. “Mrs. Buckley left town very soon after Chester Sebastian died—the next day, in fact. I’ll wager I know what happened.”

  “What?”

  “She probably pinched the silver and whatever household valuables she could stuff into her trunk before she got on the train. That’s why she didn’t go to Mr. Sebastian for money. She was afraid that sooner or later he would realize she was a thief.”

  “That’s possible, I expect. But Mr. Sebastian made some inquiries and she’s nowhere to be found.”

  “Because she doesn’t want to be found,” Molly said.

  “Mr. Sebastian thinks something might have happened to her.”

  Molly peered at Stone. “Like what?”

  “Who knows?” Stone looked out over the softly luminous scene. “Sometimes people vanish in these gardens.”

  Molly shuddered. “Those are just stories.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “I don’t believe in magic and demons.”

  “Neither do I. But after meeting Mr. Sebastian I do believe in the paranormal. There is a lot of strange energy in these gardens. Even I can sense it.”

  Molly looked out over the silvered foliage. “I just told you, Mrs. Buckley left town. Wherever she is, she’s not out there in the gardens.”

  “You said she left in a great hurry. Maybe she just wanted everyone to think that she was gone.”

  “She was seen getting on the train.”

  “Maybe she came back,” Stone said.

  “Why would she do that?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not psychical like Mr. Sebastian. He says it’s important to find out what happened to Mrs. Buckley and I expect he’s right. He usually is.”

  “Must be a bit strange to have some psychical talent.”

  “Mr. Sebastian says most people have a little,” Stone said. “They just don’t recognize it. He says they call it intuition.”

  “My ma says I have good intuition. Sometimes I just know things.”

  “So do I,” Stone said. “I knew the first time I met Mr. Sebastian that I wanted to work for him.”

  “That’s how I felt when I took the post with Miss Ames. I told myself it might lead to something much better.”

  “Better than what?”

  Molly smiled. “Better than spending the rest of my life on a farm. I’m not afraid of hard work, mind you, but milking cows and feeding chickens isn’t very exciting.”

  “Do you want to go into service?”

  “No,” Molly said, “I’m going to open a tea shop.”

  Stone rocked a little on his heels. “That sounds interesting. You’re a fine cook.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Stone.”

  Stone drank some coffee and lowered the mug. “Never met anyone who wanted to open a tea shop. You’re an interesting woman, Molly Gillingham.”

  She admired the breadth of Stone’s shoulders silhouetted against the moonlit gardens. “You’re a very interesting man, Mr. Stone.”

  “Most people think I’m as dull as dishwater and about as stupid.”

  “It’s the size of you,” Molly explained. “People see a man as large and strong as yourself and they assume that you’re naught but muscle. But obviously that’s not true.”

  “And just how would you know that?”

  “Oh, any number of reasons.” Molly clasped her hands behind her back. “For starters, Mr. Sebastian is a very intelligent man. He would never have hired you if he thought you were a complete bonehead.”

  “Don’t be so sure of that,” Stone said. There was an edge of bitterness in his voice. “There are a great many rich and powerful men who are keen on the idea of employing a giant such as myself because it impresses their fine friends.”

  “You’re not a giant,” Molly said sharply. “You’re a healthy, well-built man with a brain. There’s a difference.”

  Stone smiled for the first time, embarrassed but pleased. “Think so?”

  Molly gave him an approving, head-to-toe survey. “Oh my, yes, Mr. Stone. Tell me, how did you meet Mr. Sebastian?”

  “He found me on the streets. Gave me a post as his coachman. I always figured it was luck that brought him my way.”

  Molly smiled. “Luck works both ways. Mr. Sebastian was fortunate to find you, Mr. Stone.”

  Stone said nothing. He finished his coffee in silence and handed her the mug.

  “I’d best start making my rounds,” he said.

  “I’ll set the coffeepot to keep warm on the stove,” Molly said. She turned to go back inside the house. “I’ll put out a couple of muffins, as well.”

  “I appreciate that.” Stone started down the steps. He paused halfway. “Molly?”

  She stopped just inside the doorway. “Yes, Mr. Stone?”

  “I hope you get that tea shop you want.”

  “I will, Mr. Stone. Never doubt it.”

  His smile came and went in the shadows.

  “I don’t,” he said. “Not for a minute.”

  “You’re the first man I’ve ever met who believes I’m going to make something of myself.”

  “In that case, the others don’t know you very well.”

  “No,” she said. “They don’t.”

  Thirty-one

  He’d had enough of family for one day, Lucas thought. He needed to be alone for a while. No, not alone, he realized. He needed to be with Evangeline.

  He closed the ancient herbal that he had been perusing and got up fro
m behind his desk. Beth was curled on the small sofa, reading one of Chester’s journals and making notes. Tony had a stack of old maps of the grounds spread out on a desk.

  “You will excuse me for a time,” Lucas said. “I’m going to take a walk. I need some fresh air.”

  “Enjoy your stroll,” Tony said. He did not look up from the maps.

  “Do be careful out there in the gardens,” Beth said. She made another note. “It is night, after all.”

  “I did notice,” Lucas said. He started toward the door.

  “I don’t suppose you found anything of interest in that herbal,” Tony said.

  Lucas paused, his hand on the doorknob. “No, the notes mostly concern the medicinal and metaphysical properties of various plants and flowers. I expect Chester used it for research.”

  “The herbal is quite old,” Beth said. “No doubt very rare. I wonder where Chester acquired it.”

  “That I can answer,” Lucas said. “Chadwick Bookshop in town. The receipt was still tucked inside. I also came across a large number of rare botanical drawings that Miss Witton, the shopkeeper, was evidently able to locate for him. But I didn’t find anything that relates to whatever is going on out there in the gardens.”

  He went out the door and paused briefly in the hallway. The back stairs were closer. He took them two at a time to the floor above and stopped in front of Evangeline’s bedroom. Aware that Florence and Judith had also retired to their rooms down the hall, he knocked very softly.

  There was a soft rustling from inside the room. A moment later the door opened. Evangeline stood there. She had changed into one of the simple housedresses that she seemed to favor when she was occupied with her writing. She looked at him with an expectant air.

  “Lucas,” she said. “Did you find something of interest in those old books?”

  “Not yet.” He looked past her to the small desk near the window. Several sheets of paper and her pen lay on the surface of the desk. “I feel in need of a stroll in the gardens. Would you care to join me?”