Page 111 of Miss Moriarty, I Presume?
“We’ve been uneasy for a while about Craddock’s body—interred, but still in the vicinity,” answered Miss Baxter. “Mr. McEwan was trained as a chemist and he suggested perchloric acid, which we’ve been accumulating in small amounts. We have just about enough to dissolve one person’s remains. Shall we dissolve Craddock’s and claim that they are yours?”
Ah, but it was a pleasure to scheme with this woman.
“And of course in the meanwhile I would have left via the cistern, with Mr. Peters’ guidance. De Lacey and his men would only know that my body had been transported back into the Garden and then was never seen again.” Charlotte traced her fingers around the slightly raised stamp on her envelope-patterned hot water bottle cozy. “That works for me. But what about you?”
“It will be more complicated for me. I must orchestrate my death in a way that doesn’t embroil the other members of the Garden, especially not Miss Fairchild, who has been a stalwart friend all these years.” Miss Baxter rubbed one knuckle across her lips. “It’s possible I will need to face my father at some point.”
Charlotte’s innards tightened. “I had a difficult time with him, when he called on me.”
“It’s never easy,” said Miss Baxter quietly. “I do not have his near hypnotic prowess, but I have learned that for him to be effective, he needs a single-minded focus. And I can disrupt that by upsetting or outright angering him.”
A veteran of many battles, this woman. “I’ll leave the handling of your father to you. But what about your remains? We can’t both disappear without bodies.”
“I can have Dr. Robinson locate one for me. He has the contacts for cadavers.”
“I suppose since you trusted him enough to deliver your baby, we can trust him on this also.”
“His credentials go much further than that. He was the one who found a body for Mrs. Marbleton all those years ago, when she needed to leave my father.”
This made Charlotte’s eyes widen. Suchprofoundknowledge of Mrs. Marbleton’s past...
Miss Baxter chortled at Charlotte’s reaction. “Yes, she was the one who ‘kidnapped’ me when I was a child, shortly after my grandmother passed away. Here at the Garden we trust only those she has personally vouched for.”
She caressed Mr. Finch’s hair again. “But even to her I dared not breathe a word about Myron.”
Mr. Finch rubbed his head against her palm.
The impossible task those two faced, in trying to reunite their family...
Charlotte took out a jam tart that Lord Ingram had given her earlier. “You will have your son back. I will help you.”
Think before you speak, Miss Holmes.
I always do.
Perhaps here was another exception. Or perhaps she had been thinking about this very future since the moment she realized her brother’s role in Miss Baxter’s life—and vice versa.
Her simple statement made Miss Baxter and Mr. Finch come to their feet. They understood the commitment she had made.
Slowly Miss Baxter sat down again. She offered her hand to Charlotte.
Charlotte shook it. “You are welcome, Miss Moriarty.”
Briefly, Marguerite Moriarty covered her mouth with her hand, as if still unable to believe that Charlotte had pledged herself to their cause. And then she smiled. “Perhaps my father will have the last laugh—but I don’t believe so. We will overthrow him someday. And he will regret that he has underestimated us all along.”
Epilogue
“Amarriage is an agreement between two people—and two families—to form an alliance, you see. It’s a solemn pact and usually lasts until one of the people is no more. But sometimes those who enter into that agreement realize that they have made a mistake. That the marriage itself is the mistake. And instead of living forever in a mistake, they choose to end the marriage.
“The end of a marriage is just as solemn a pact. A petition for divorce has to be filed and then granted by the court. Very soon, that is what will happen to Mamma and Papa’s marriage. The court will grant us a divorce and we will no longer be married to each other.”
For months, Lord Ingram had been preparing an explanation for his children, one that grew longer and more ornate with each new mental draft, until he estimated that if he began his oration at their bedtime, they would be an hour asleep by the time he finally reached his point.
Lady Ingram’s version, on the other hand, wasted no words.
After Christmas, he had put a notice in the papers for her, offering her a safe place to stay. To his surprise, she had responded and accepted his offer—she had escaped Château Vaudrieu alongside Madame Desrosiers a fortnight before, and hadn’t wanted to be a burden on the other woman for much longer.
He gave her a range of choices and she opted for the West Berkshire estate that had once belonged to Bancroft. When he’d needed to stow the children somewhere safe, the place became the obvious choice, so that they could spend some time with their mother.
