Don’t Look Back

Chapter Seventeen

“We assumed that the coachman was attempting to run down the gardener’s son, perhaps to prevent him from talking to us.” Anthony looked at the others gathered in Lavinia’s small study. “But now it appears that the man likely never even noticed the boy. He was intent only on delivering his message. Must have been following us, saw his opportunity, and took it.”

“A warning.” Tobias lounged on a corner of the desk and contemplated the note that lay on the polished surface. “It could have been sent by almost anyone involved in this affair.”

“Well, it certainly isn’t going to stop us from pursuing our investigations,” Lavinia said from her post behind her desk.

“Absolutely not,” Emeline declared with equal force.

“I agree.” Joan Dove absently arranged the folds of her elegant gray skirts. “In fact, it only whets one’s appetite to solve the case, if you ask me.”

“Indeed.” Lavinia plucked a leather-bound volume from the shelf beside the desk, flipped it open, and picked up a quill. “I have begun a journal of events that are directly related to this affair so that we may keep track of all the information and observations that come our way. I shall enter this bit about the note while it is fresh. Emeline, tell me everything you noticed regarding the coach and the driver.”

Emeline launched into a detailed description. Lavinia wrote swiftly. Joan rose and went to stand beside the desk, listening intently and offering occasional comments.

Tobias glanced at Anthony, who was watching Emeline with a grim expression. The incident in the street near Banks’s mansion had left its mark, he thought. This was no longer merely an exciting adventure so far as his new assistant was concerned.

It was perfectly natural that Anthony would be alarmed by Emeline’s close encounter with danger. But he sensed something else going on between the two young people, something beyond a gentleman’s normal concern for a lady’s safety. It seemed to him that there were some storm clouds gathering in Emeline’s and Anthony’s heretofore sunny relationship. What the devil was going on here? He made a note to discuss the matter later with Lavinia. She was far more perceptive about this sort of thing.

“From what you have told us,” Lavinia said, scribbling madly, “it would appear that, until recently, Mrs. Rushton was having an affair with Banks’s valet. For some reason she decided to let him go.”

“A lover’s quarrel?” Mrs. Dove suggested. “They argued so she turned him off without references or wages?”

Lavinia pursed her lips. “Whatever the reasons, Fitch was furious and had a motive for theft. He was later seen sneaking out of the dressing chamber with a small object wrapped in a cravat.”

Tobias clasped his hands behind his back. “If Fitch elected to take the Blue Medusa instead of some other valuable that would have been much easier to sell to a fence or a pawnshop proprietor, he may have had a particular buyer in mind. Someone he was certain would pay well for the cameo.”

Lavinia met his eyes. “Celeste Hudson.”

A charged silence settled on the room.

“Obviously we must speak to Fitch as soon as possible,” Tobias said after a moment. “Anthony, you will look for him. He probably won’t be hard to find. When you discover his whereabouts, notify me at once. I will handle the interview.”

Lavinia put down her quill. “I wish we knew more about the Blue Medusa. It might help us identify other people who have a particular interest in it.”

Joan smiled slightly. “I know of one person who could answer most of your questions about the Medusa, assuming he is willing to do so.”

Lavinia, together with Joan and Tobias, was ushered into Lord Vale’s impressive library the following morning.

The chamber was long and vast and crammed with books. It was illuminated by tall, classically proportioned windows. A circular staircase led to the upper level where yet more bookshelves were filled with leather-bound tomes. There was an air of scholarly elegance about the room that caused one to speak in hushed tones.

Unable to sit in the midst of such splendor, Lavinia began to prowl the room, examining some of the books with wonder and fascination.

Lord Vale waited until the housekeeper had poured the tea and departed. Then he leaned back in his chair and surveyed his guests with polite speculation.

“Mrs. Dove tells me that you wish to interview me in a matter that involves murder,” he said.

“I hope you are not offended.” Lavinia looked up from the study of a large volume that lay open on a table. She had been a bit anxious on this point. A gentleman of Vale’s status had every right to be extremely annoyed at the prospect of being dragged into a situation that involved something so distasteful as murder.

“Not at all.” A glint of acute interest nickered in Vale’s eyes. “As much as I enjoy my scholarly researches into antiquities, I must admit that I occasionally find myself in a mood for other, equally stimulating diversions.”

“A stimulating diversion,” Tobias repeated neutrally from his position at a window. “Well, that is certainly one way to describe an inquiry into murder.”

Vale arched one elegant brow. “I deal with the artifacts of the ancient dead most of my waking hours. A modern murder offers a pleasant change of pace.”

“It was good of you to see us,” Lavinia said.

Vale glanced at Joan. “Mrs. Dove is my friend. I am happy to oblige her in any way I can.” He turned back to Lavinia. “I see you are interested in my copy of Mr. Lysons’s Reliquiae Britannico-Romanae.”

“This is the first opportunity I have had to examine it. The volume is very expensive, you know.”

Vale smiled. “Yes, I know.”

She felt herself turn pink. A man of his wealth was no doubt quite oblivious to the cost of a beautiful book.

“Mr. Lysons’s unusual interest in British-Roman antiquities parallels my own,” Vale continued. “You are welcome to browse through the Reliquiae, Mrs. Lake.”

Lavinia studied the plate displayed in front of her. It showed several meticulously rendered drawings of British-Roman antiquities that Samuel Lysons had uncovered in his explorations of old ruins in his native Gloucestershire. A curious, U-shaped iron blade and portions of a pottery strainer were illustrated. Small, detailed works of art in themselves, the drawings had been colored in light, translucent washes.

Lysons was unusual not only because of his keen interest in British antiquities, she thought, but also because he paid close attention to the oddly fascinating, if somewhat mundane, relics of daily life. She turned to another one of the colored plates and smiled at the carefully rendered drawings of several elegantly shaped pottery bowls.

Tobias looked at Vale. “I’m certain that you are already aware that we are searching for the man who murdered Celeste Hudson. We believe that she stole the Blue Medusa shortly before her death.”

“So you are, in effect, looking for the Medusa on the assumption that the killer now has it,” Vale concluded.

“It is our hope that the bracelet will lead us to the murderer,” Lavinia explained. “It is an odd relic, by all accounts. We thought it would be useful to know more about it.”

“And about those who might have an interest in obtaining it,” Tobias added. “Mr. Nightingale implied that there are some collectors who would pay dearly for it in order to use it to apply for admission to the Connoisseurs Club.”

“Ah, yes, Nightingale. A very enterprising gentleman.” Vale sipped tea and slowly lowered his cup. “Serious collectors interested in gaining admission to the club would know that, as the founder and keeper of the museum, I have a preference for antiquities discovered on English soil. Indeed, I would be strongly disposed to look approvingly on whoever presented such an object to the club’s private collection.”

Lavinia turned away from the beautiful book on the table. “What can you tell us, sir?”

Vale put aside his cup and saucer and got to his feet. “Before I discuss the Blue Medusa, I believe I will show you the club’s private museum.”

They rose and followed him to a door set into the paneled wall on the other side of the library. Vale opened it and revealed a staircase. He led the way up the steps.

At the landing he opened another door and ushered them into a long gallery.

Lavinia saw at once that the shadowy chamber extended the entire length of the great house. The gallery was lined with glass-enclosed cases, tall wooden cabinets, and massive chests of drawers.

Statuary stood in the corners. Ancient vases, urns, and broken bits of columns littered the floor. Half a dozen stone sarcophagi were stacked against one wall.

“This is wonderful.” Lavinia moved to the nearest display case and saw row upon row of silver and gold coins bearing the portraits of ancient Roman emperors, neatly arrayed on black fabric.

Joan went to stand at a case and studied an exquisitely worked gold necklace set with a number of emeralds. “This is a new acquisition, is it not, Vale? I do not recall seeing it the last time I was here.”

“You have not paid me a visit since Fielding’s death,” Vale said softly. “As it happens, I have been away a good deal of the time this past year. I spent several months exploring the ruins of an ancient Roman villa not far from Bath. The mosaics were quite astonishing. I made some colored drawings.”

Joan turned away from the necklace. “I should like to see them.”

Vale smiled. “I would be delighted to show them to you.”

Lavinia saw the silent invitation in his eyes and knew from the way Joan moved quickly to another display case that she had seen it too.

Tobias appeared oblivious to the small exchange. He examined a vase with casual interest and then looked at Vale. “This is the club’s private museum, I assume?”

“Yes.” Vale stroked the carved stone of an ancient altar with a lover’s caress. “Much of what you see in this chamber was found right here in England. It is fashionable to send young men on the Grand Tour to view the glorious ruins of ancient Rome and Greece, but as Mr. Lysons has demonstrated, we have our own rich classical history to explore, do we not? The Connoisseurs are devoted to preserving British antiquities.”

“England was a Roman province for several centuries,” Joan said. “It is reasonable to assume that the ancients left many interesting relics.”

“Indeed. The Romans left us an inheritance in the form of the remains of magnificent villas, public baths, and temples.” He indicated the case of gleaming objects next to her. “And who knows how many hoards of ancient jewelry and coins are yet to be discovered buried in the ground.”

“Few of those hoards are likely to be reported by their discoverers, given the law of treasure trove,”

Tobias said dryly. “It is asking a great deal to expect a poor farmer to turn over a cache of ancient gold and silver valuables to the Crown without payment, all so that the objects can be melted down.”

“Indeed.” Vale chuckled. “But rest assured that a good many undeclared discoveries are made on a regular basis, and they go far to ensure a lively market in antiquities for the likes of Mr. Nightingale and other dealers.”

Lavinia examined a series of little enameled bronze brooches twisted into fanciful shapes that made her think of tiny dragons. Then she moved to look at some rings set with engraved stones.

The first featured a red carnelian decorated with the tiny figure of a draped woman. The little cornucopia and steering oar identified her as Fortuna, the goddess of good fortune. The red jasper stone in the neighboring ring depicted another draped goddess, this one winged. She was shown with a small scourge. Lavinia recognized her as Nemesis, the goddess in charge of preserving the balance of good and ill in human affairs and with the task of exacting vengeance.

Tobias lounged against an elaborately carved sarcophagus and looked at Vale. “This is an interesting collection, but I believe you were going to tell us about the Blue Medusa.”

Vale nodded and walked slowly through the gallery. “The bracelet itself is said to be a particularly exquisite example of the ancient goldsmith’s craft. But of even greater interest is the cameo set into it.”

“So we have been told,” Tobias said.

“From what I can determine, the antiquity was found sometime early in the last century. It was handed down through a family that gradually thinned out until only a maiden aunt and her nephew, a boy of about fifteen, were left in the line. One morning many years ago, the aunt’s body was discovered by a maid. The kitchen knife that had been used to kill her was still in her back.”

“Dear heaven,” Lavinia whispered.

“There was no sign of the nephew, and a number of valuables were missing, including the Blue Medusa,” Vale continued. “It seems to have been sold and resold a number of times before Banks eventually found it in a small antiquities shop here in London a year and a half ago.”

“What of the nephew?” Tobias asked.

“As far as I know, he vanished for good. Perhaps he changed his name. Perhaps he died. Perhaps he made his way to America or the Continent. I doubt if anyone searched for him.”

“Even though he was the most likely suspect in his aunt’s murder?” Joan asked.

Vale moved one hand in a flat line. “The boy was not well liked. The neighbors feared him. Evidently there had been some nasty incidents with dead animals and some small fires that were attributed to him. In any event, there was no one who cared greatly about justice for the aunt.”

“We have heard that the cameo is an unusual depiction of the Gorgon,” Tobias said.

“It is not an ordinary representation of Medusa.” Vale paused at the end of the row of gravestones and looked at him from the shadows. “Sometime back I came across an old book that made reference to a peculiar cult that flourished for a time here in England in the fourth century. Arcane societies and secret temples were not unusual in the Roman Empire, especially in the more remote provinces such as England. My studies indicate that a number of them existed here. But this one was quite unique.”

“In what way?” Lavinia asked.

“The cameo includes, in addition to the Medusa figure, a wand or rod. It appears to have been the emblem or seal of the cult’s master, who was both feared and dreaded.”

“Why?” Joan asked curiously.

Vale hesitated and then shrugged. “You will not credit this, but the old volume indicated that the master practiced an ancient form of mesmerism.”

Lavinia stopped halfway to another display case and spun around. “Mesmerism? In ancient times? But it is a modern science.”

Vale looked amused. “If animal magnetism is, indeed, a real force in the human body, why should it strike you as strange that techniques for controlling it might have been discovered and lost and rediscovered many times over the course of the centuries? Do you really believe that we who live in this enlightened era are the only ones who manage to stumble onto ancient truths? That we are any more intelligent, insightful, or intuitive than those who came before us?”

Lavinia winced. “I take your point, sir. But you must admit, it is odd to consider that some ancient pagan cult here in England may have practiced a science as advanced as mesmerism.”

“Always assuming that it is a science,” Tobias muttered.

Vale laughed softly and turned back to Lavinia. “Odd and deeply fascinating. And, in this case, more than a little disturbing.”

“Why do you say that?” Joan asked sharply.

Vale resumed his stroll through the relics of the past. “According to the book, the master used his mesmeric powers, which were said to be drawn directly from the stone itself, in dark ways. From what I have been able to discern, the cult was founded on fear, secrecy, and great mystery.”

“Medusa was an obvious choice as a symbol of such an unusual cult, in that case,” Joan observed. “After all, in the legend, she could turn a man to stone with her gaze.”

“More than a symbol.” Vale paused meaningfully. “As I said, the cameo in the bracelet was considered the actual source of the priest’s power. The members believed that the only person who could control it was the one who was imbued with a natural talent for drawing the energy from the stone.”

A solemn silence fell on the gallery.

Tobias shattered the uneasy quiet with a humorless smile. “I trust that your interest in the Blue Medusa is purely scholarly in nature, Vale. I would not like to believe that a man of your education and experience of the world places any credence in the supposed mystical powers of an ancient cameo.”

Lavinia saw Joan frown and glance quickly at their host.

But Vale looked amused. “I assure you, March, I have no use for metaphysics, especially those of a rather unpleasant, long-dead cult. But it never ceases to amaze me how often seemingly intelligent, educated people do fall under the spell of old legends and strange beliefs.”

“And the Blue Medusa offers that enticement?” Tobias asked.

“To some, yes.” Vale walked to a nearby cabinet and removed the iron ring on his left hand. He fitted the small key to the lock and opened the door. “Take this piece of ancient Roman glass, for instance. It is said that men have died because of it.”

He reached inside and removed an intricately carved glass bowl. The object caught the light and glowed a dozen shades of fiery amber in his fingers. Lavinia was riveted. She moved closer to get a better look.

“It’s incredible,” she said. “Was it, too, found here in England?”

“No. I believe that it was brought here from Italy many years ago.”

Joan came to stand beside Lavinia. “Beautiful.”

Vale watched them both with an enigmatic smile.

Lavinia took a closer look at the large cup. Figures had been carved around the vessel in such a way that they stood out from the surface as though attempting to escape the bonds of the delicate net of glass that anchored them.

Lavinia recognized the scene that the artist had caught and frozen in the glass.

“Persephone fleeing Hades,” she whispered. “The Lord of the Underworld pursues her.”

The desperation on the face of the woman and the anguish and loss etched in the god’s features sent a shiver through her.

“It is called the Hades Cup, and some say that it is a dangerous object to own.” Vale smiled wryly. “Not that I believe in such nonsense. Nevertheless, I maintain that I do not actually own the thing. I am merely keeping it safe here in the club’s museum.”

He closed and locked the cabinet door with the tiny ring key.

“I think we have all taken your point,” Tobias said. “Legends develop a strength of their own, and collectors are an odd lot.”

“Indeed.” Vale smiled. “They like nothing better than a good story attached to an antiquity. Some will kill to possess a rare object with a sufficiently compelling legend attached to it.”

Lavinia threw up her hands. “Wonderful. Yet another motive for murder. At this rate, half of London will soon be on our suspect list.”