Page 62 of Garden of Lies

It struck Ursula that there was a new and surprising vigor in Valerie’s voice. It wasn’t just impatience. There was another kind of energy vibrating just beneath the surface. Excitement.

“Really, Mrs. Kern, I do not have time for this. You must leave at once.”

“I understand, madam. But I cannot see anything except greenery. It is all quite disorienting.”

“Stand still. I will find you. Do you understand?”

Ursula obeyed, not because of the command but because she had just come face-to-face with a wall of glass and a locked door. For the first time she realized that the greenhouse was divided into two distinct sections. The inner portion behind the door was smaller than the main chamber. A profusion of radiant green foliage studded with golden flowers filled the room. She was quite certain she was looking at a great mass of the herb that Rosemont used to concoct the ambrosia.

Valerie appeared from a cluster of palms. Her face was flushed and her eyes were fever-bright. She had fistfuls of her skirts in both hands, hoisting the heavy fabric of her gown above her knees so that she could move more quickly.

The light glinted briefly on a small object attached to her petticoats. A button or some other bit of decoration, Ursula thought. Most women used lace and ribbons to add a whimsical touch to their underclothes.

“There you are,” Valerie said. She let her skirts fall back into place. “Do come with me and don’t dawdle.”

Ursula obediently fell into step beside her. “May I inquire why you are letting me go?”

“It is none of your affair but as it happens I have just received word that a houseguest from America will be arriving the day after tomorrow. I—we—were not expecting him until next month.”

“I understand.”

“There is so much to be done. He will be staying with us, of course.” Valerie gave a laugh that was very nearly a giggle. “My husband will not be pleased. He does not care for the company of Americans. He finds them lacking in the social graces. But Mr. Cobb is a business associate. He must be treated with the proper degree of respect.”

“Perhaps your husband will suggest that Mr. Cobb book a room in a hotel.”

“A hotel is out of the question. Mr. Cobb entertained us quite lavishly in his mansion when we visited New York a few months ago so we must repay the favor. My husband will have to take comfort in knowing that our houseguest will not be staying very long—only a few days, in fact.”

“A remarkably brief visit considering how far Mr. Cobb will have traveled.”

“Mr. Cobb is a very busy man,” Valerie said. “As I was saying, I will no longer require your stenography services, Mrs. Kern.”

“Would you like a typed copy of your latest poem sent to you?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

The housekeeper hovered just outside the entrance of the glasshouse. Her middle-aged features were stamped with the impassive expression of a woman who had long ago learned that the secret to keeping her post was to keep her employers’ secrets.

“Show Mrs. Kern to the door,” Valerie instructed.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Griffith was lounging against the trunk of a tree in the small park across the street from the Fulbrook mansion. When he spotted Ursula he straightened and moved to open the door of the carriage.

He glanced at the house with a speculative expression. “You’re finished early, Mrs. Kern. Everything all right? I know Mr. Roxton was concerned about your plans to come here today.”

“Lady Fulbrook just let me go.” Ursula collected her skirts and went up the steps into the carriage. She sat down and looked at Griffith. “With no notice and without a reference, mind you.”

“Not that you need one from her.”

“No, thank goodness. But I have some news, Griffith. I persuaded Lady Fulbrook to take me into the conservatory again and I saw a great quantity of the ambrosia plant growing in a special chamber.”

Griffith’s eyes tightened. “You’re certain?”

“As certain as I can be without a closer examination.”

“So Fulbrook is growing the plant?”

Ursula shook her head. “I don’t think so. Evidently Fulbrook cannot tolerate the atmosphere of the greenhouse. It gives him all the symptoms of a bad cold. I believe that Lady Fulbrook is the one cultivating the plant for him. I must get word to Slater immediately.”

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