A Death Along the River Fleet (32 page)

A moment later she heard the barman retch. “That was him. The brother of that poor woman. God rest their souls.” He was so definitive in his claim that the constable did not press him further.

Together, they watched the constable shine his glass lantern around. As he did so, Lucy caught the glint of something shining on a bit of muddy ground.

Without saying anything, Lucy picked the small object up from the ground, brushing off the dirt as she turned it this way and that. It was an elegant hand-held mirror, with an embroidered handle—a scene of birds and flowers. The glass was broken. She shivered again, thinking of what she knew about the curses that came with such mirrors. When she held it closer to her face, she caught the faintest scent of lavender.

She slipped it into her peddler's pack and headed back inside the inn. When she sat down, Abe came over and slipped a cup of hot mead into her hands. He sat down across from her, with his own cup.

“To think that poor man was lying out there this whole time,” he said, shaking his head. He looked at Lucy. “I wonder what happened to the woman. His sister. I wonder if she is dead, too.”

“No,” she said, touching his arm. He seemed genuinely distressed by the idea that Miss Belasysse had come to harm. “She is safe.”

The barkeep looked relieved. “That is a blessing at least.”

She could tell he was about to ask more questions, but she was saved from further explanation when Mr. Sheridan and Dr. Larimer walked into the inn, looking perturbed. “Lucy,” Dr. Larimer said, seeing her. “Will you take us to where the body was found?”

“This way,” she said, leading them outside.

Other servants from the inn were starting to mill about, curious about the body. Clearly, the boy had been selective in whom he had told about it, probably knowing he would lose the chance at a few extra coins should it be discovered.

“Just over there.” She pointed, and Mr. Sheridan disappeared into the trees.

Gwen came out with an old blanket, which she handed to Dr. Larimer. “I thought the body should be covered,” she said.

Dr. Larimer took the blanket from her. “Thank you. That is kind of you,” he said, before joining his assistant.

They all waited then. Lucy could hear the physicians conferring together.

Mr. Sheridan came back out. “It is most definitely Henry Belasysse,” he said to Duncan, looking a bit sick. “Of that I am certain.”

Dr. Larimer added, “He has been dead for at least a week, which would fit with the barman's account that he had last been seen two Saturdays past.” He shook his head. “We must inform his family.”

Duncan nodded to Hank and another bellman who had accompanied the physicians to the inn. “Carry the body back to Dr. Larimer's residence so that he can examine it more fully,” he said. “For God's sake, make sure his sister does not see him when you bring him in. We have no need for her to see him in this sorry state.”

Duncan moved over to Lucy as they watched the bellman wrap the body in the sheet. “So, what do we suppose happened here?”

“Well, we know that Henry and Octavia Belasysse were inside the inn, until the other man came in and ‘cursed' her,” Lucy said slowly, trying to piece the events together in her mind. “When her fit began, Henry Belasysse shouted at the man to leave, and he did. Although perhaps he did not go very far.”

“Right,” Duncan replied. “The bartender said that the Belasysses left soon after, to retire to their rooms, he thought.”

“Only Gwen said their beds had not been slept in.”

Duncan began to walk about, a puzzled look on his face. “So they came out here, on their way to their rooms. Perhaps the other man surprised them then, and assaulted them. Did he then kill Henry Belasysse?” Duncan began to tap his hand against his leg. “And what of Miss Belasysse? Why did she have blood all over her dress?”

“Perhaps she tried to attend to her brother, and it is his blood on her clothes,” Lucy reasoned. “If that man killed Henry, maybe that is when she fled through the ruins. When I saw her the next day, she said the devil had been chasing her. Perhaps that was he.”

“But where was Miss Belasysse for the rest of the night?” Duncan asked.

“She was probably hiding from that man.”

“Then how did she get those cuts on her hands?” He shook his head. “We must face facts. Once again we are brought back to Miss Belasysse—she is the link between these two men. She was overheard arguing with her brother shortly before he was killed, and in altercation with another man before he turned up dead as well. None of it bodes well for her innocence.”

“Well, there were many people who were in the presence of both men before they were murdered,” Lucy said. “Abe, Gwen, and everyone else in the Cattle Bell at the time! Maybe one of them murdered the two men.”

Her protest was lame, and they both knew it. Given the injuries to Miss Belasysse's hands and the blood on her gown, she was clearly involved in at least one of the men's deaths, if not both.

Lucy sighed, looking at the growing shadows cast by the inn as the sun sank lower in the sky. What had happened here? How had Henry Belasysse ended up murdered?

 

25

Since it was growing dark, Lucy did not wish to cross back through the ruins alone, but instead kept pace with Hank and Duncan. The physicians rode in the cart with the body of Henry Belasysse. Thankfully, they had thought to bring lanterns to light their grim procession as they wound their way through the darkening streets.

When they arrived at Dr. Larimer's home, Molly took a frightened look at the shrouded body but gave them some welcome news. Miss Belasysse had been slumbering for the last few hours after having downed an ample dose of her sleeping draught.
At least we can hold off telling her about her brother's murder,
Lucy thought. This was followed by a second, more chilling thought.
Unless she was the one who killed him.
Lucy shivered.

“This will give you some time to see if the knife wounds match those made on the body of the other man,” Constable Duncan said in a low voice to Dr. Larimer. He then dispatched Hank to bring the Belasysses to the physician's home. “Tell them we have news, but do not let on about his death. I have more questions for that family.”

He turned to Lucy. “We need to make certain that Miss Belasysse does not go anywhere in the meantime.”

After Hank left, and Duncan and the physicians went into the room with the corpse, Lucy went upstairs to be on hand when Miss Belasysse awoke. The woman was sleeping, her breathing light and steady. In the candlelight, she looked peaceful, with no sign of the frenzied terror that gripped her so often in her waking state. Pitiful creature, the bartender had called her, and Lucy agreed. Without thinking, she smoothed a strand of hair away from the woman's forehead.

Lucy sat down at the table and pulled the broken mirror out of her pocket. Without thinking, she began to play with it, flickering this way and that, seeing how the gleaming light moved around the room.
The devil loves a looking-glass,
she could almost hear her mother intone, and she set it down.

She looked at the great mirror in the room, which was still covered with cloth, as one would do in a house of mourning.

Why had Miss Belasysse covered the mirror, she wondered. She thought of a game that she and the other servants used to play on All Hallows' Eve. The night the spirits walked, if a woman made a wish and lit a candle before a mirror, and then blew it out, the image of her future lover would appear in the glass for an instant. She remembered trying this, giggling with her friend Bessie, feeling a pang that Bessie had never had the chance to have a husband. She could not help but wonder what would happen if she blew out the candle now. Whose face would she see in the mirror?

Idly, she pulled the cloth away and began to play with a bit of glass from the hand mirror so that it bounced off the larger mirror. Accidentally, she knocked the heavy brush off the table; it made a loud noise when it struck the wooden floor.

“What are you doing?” Octavia Belasysse cried out, having been awoken by the crash. “Why have you uncovered the mirror?”

Quickly, Lucy pulled the cloth back over the mirror, and the little dancing lights caused by the flickering candle ceased. As she did so, she remembered a conversation she had had with Dr. Larimer.

How do Miss Belasysse's fits start?
she had asked.
What brings them on?

A stressful moment, a harsh smell, a flickering light, a loud noise,
he had replied.

“The mirror,” Lucy said slowly. “It can trigger a fit. When it catches the light or when someone waves it about, like so—” She moved her hand in the air.

Miss Belasysse's eyes widened. She swung her legs over the side of the bed.

“What is that you have there?” she demanded. “Where did you get that mirror?”

“Is it yours?” Lucy whispered, holding it out to the woman. She could feel her heart starting to beat faster.

“Where did you get it?” Miss Belasysse asked again, shrinking back against the bed, without taking the mirror from Lucy's outstretched hand. The color had drained from her face.

“I think you know,” Lucy said softly, dropping her hand back to her side. “We found it by the body of your brother. On the ground, near the Cattle Bell Inn.”

The woman started to tremble. “Henry? You found him?” Her face twisted in anguish. “Oh, my dear brother. The good Lord have mercy on his soul.” She began to weep. “What torture it has been.”

“You already knew he was dead?” Lucy asked, staring down at her. A bit of bile rose in her throat. “You've been lying to us this whole time? Pretending to have lost your memory, for what?” She crossed her arms, her fury growing. “Because you killed your brother? And that man! And to think I defended you!”

“I did not kill my brother!” Miss Belasysse exclaimed. “No, no! You must not believe that!”

“But you knew your brother was dead! Why did you lie?”

“I did not lie! I was … confused.” The last word came as a bit of a choked cry. Gulping, Miss Belasysse continued, tears running down her cheeks. “I know what this looks like. It is hard to explain how my wretched memory works. I promise you, Lucy, I never meant to deceive you!” She began to weep in earnest then, much as Lucy had first seen her by Holborn Bridge.

But Lucy refused to be moved by her tears. “Then explain yourself,” she demanded through clenched teeth. “Explain everything! Now!”

Miss Belasysse took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure. “Somewhere deep inside me, before I came to recollect these terrible events, I always knew something was wrong. There was a grief deep inside me, a melancholia different than anything I have ever experienced.” She choked back a sob. “It was not until you held up my dress in the ruins, all covered in b-b-blood, that everything came back to me at once.” There was a wild look in her eyes. “I did not mean to do it!”

A chill ran over Lucy. “W-what did you do?” she whispered, though she was afraid to hear the woman's reply. “
Did
you kill your brother?”

“No! No! I already told you that!”

“Someone witnessed you arguing with your brother, the night he was killed. You were in a fury, I heard tell,” Lucy said, remembering what she had learned from the tavern-keeper's daughter.

Miss Belasysse looked at her in surprise. “How did you know that?” Then she waved her hand. “'Tis no matter. I was angry at my brother, I admit it. Even though he had finally taken me from Bedlam, I was angry that it had taken him ten months to retrieve me. Ten months! For ten months, I stewed in my own juices. For ten months, they tied me up when I fell into my fits. Priests were smuggled in to do exorcisms; astrologers would intone about Venus and Mercury. A bell would ring and I would find potions and elixirs poured down my throat. If I was not mad before, I most certainly am now.”

Jumping up again, she began to pace about. Lucy stepped back.

“I was angry that he ignored my letters!” she said. “He told me that he had shown them to our uncle Harlan, who convinced him that they were not of my hand. Someone else had written them, you see.”

“Mr. Quade, the apothecary,” Lucy stated.

“Yes. But there were others, too, blackmailing my brother about the truth of that tanner's death. I did not know that, at the time. They came from someone else.” Miss Belasysse looked up at the ceiling for a long moment before continuing. “Uncle Harlan told Henry that someone was just trying to injure the family, by claiming I was still alive. He swore to my brother that he had looked upon my dead body.” Her mood seemed to shift then. “Most of the time I thought I
was
dead.” She dropped down to her knees. “But I would never have done my brother ill, to that I wholeheartedly attest.”

“Can you tell me, then, what happened at the Cattle Bell Inn? If you did not murder your brother, then who did?”

Miss Belasysse began to shake. “God help me!” she gasped. “I was there when that blackheart killed him.”

“Who? Who killed your brother?” Lucy asked. “Was it the man who bothered you and your brother in the inn? Did you know who he was?”

Miss Belasysse began to wring her hands. “Oh, how that devil haunts me!” She began to rock back and forth. “The brown bird!”

“The brown bird?” Lucy asked. With a flash she remembered what the Bedlam inmate had whispered.
The brown bird does the falconer's bidding
. “The dead man found by Holborn Bridge is the assistant keeper of Bedlam.”

Miss Belasysse twisted her lips. “Alistair Browning. The Bastard of Bedlam.”

“Why did he kill your brother?” Lucy asked.

“He wanted to bring me back, and I … I … well, I could not bear it. And neither could my brother. And now an evil has been done.”