Page 111 of Garden of Lies

“An alienist?” Ursula paused her teacup in midair while she pondered that. “Good heavens, I had not considered that possibility.”

“We will keep an eye on her,” Slater said. “But if she is set free, I do not think she will return to London. She certainly cannot go into Society. She is now a notorious woman, thanks to Mr. Otford and his colleagues.”

“That she is,” Otford said. He waved the copy of his magazine. “I must admit I am grateful to her. Nothing better than a woman on the cover to attract the attention of the public.”

“Let me see that.” Ursula got up, marched across the room and yanked the magazine out of Otford’s hands. She sat down beside Lilly and examined the penny dreadful.

The cover was a melodramatic bedroom scene that depicted a beautiful woman in a diaphanous nightgown clinging to the arm of a villainous-looking American armed with a very large revolver. The body of a gentleman was sprawled on the floor, his throat slashed. The title said it all:

THEFULBROOKMURDER

Lady Fulbrook Driven Mad by Illicit Tryst with American Crime Lord! Conspiracy! Poison! Scandal!

Ursula paged quickly through the magazine, checking for other illustrations. “If I find my name or the name of my agency in this article, Mr. Otford, I vow—”

“Calm yourself, madam.” Otford flapped a napkin in Ursula’s direction and spoke around a mouthful of cake. “I assure you that you are not referenced anywhere in the magazine. Neither is anyone else in this room. Per Mr. Roxton’s instructions, I gave full credit to Scotland Yard.”

“If Lady Fulbrook is committed to an asylum, what will happen to the Fulbrook estate?” Lilly asked.

“I suspect that heirs and potential heirs on both sides of the family are currently marshaling their forces—specifically their lawyers—to do battle over the fortune,” Slater said.

“What of the ambrosia plants?” Ursula asked.

Slater stirred and pushed himself away from the wall. He wandered across the room to contemplate the items on the tea tray.

“As it happens, there was a fire in the Fulbrook conservatory last night. It started in the stillroom, where a number of chemicals were stored. Evidently everything, including the plants in the special chamber reserved for the ambrosia, was destroyed.”

“Huh.” Otford stopped eating and pulled out his notebook.

Ursula watched Slater. “There may be other ambrosia plants out there, somewhere. And packets of seeds, as well.”

Slater shrugged and selected a sandwich. “Perhaps someone will discover something useful to do with the plant. It is not as if we do not need better medicines.”

“Well, there is that, I suppose,” Ursula said. “Now, then, no doubt you are all wondering why I asked you to tea today.”

Everyone looked at her.

Lilly frowned. “There is a reason? Besides tea, that is?”

“Yes, there is a reason.” Ursula picked up the silver card case on the coffee table. “I called you together to announce that Slater is about to embark on a new career.”

Slater coughed and sputtered around a bite of sandwich. “What?”

“This tea is a celebration of his new profession, and I am delighted to make him a present of his first business cards.” She selected one of the crisp white cards and held it up so that everyone could admire the elegant engraving.

“Let me see that.” Slater crossed the room in two long strides and snapped the card out of Ursula’s fingers.“Slater Roxton, Private Inquiries. Discretion Assured.”He looked up. “What the devil?”

There were startled gasps from everyone else in the room. The gasps were followed by murmurs of approval.

“Yes, of course,” Lilly said. She was suddenly radiant with enthusiasm. “It’s the perfect career for you, Slater. I should have thought of it, myself.”

Slater stared at Ursula with the expression of a man who had been shaken to the core. “Business cards?”

“Perhaps I can be of assistance to you in your new line,” Otford suggested eagerly. “You’ll need a man who knows how to dig up information. In exchange for exclusive stories like the Fulbrook murder, I offer my investigative services.”

“People got killed,” Slater said.

Otford cleared his throat. “Right. Murdered. Very unfortunate.”

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