'No,' Kate admitted. 'I could be mistaken, or there could be another explanation for what I have observed. Perhaps they should be shown to some other person who might-''
'There is no need,' the vicar said. His tone had the finality of a judge pronouncing a sentence of death. 'Your observations are corroborated by a letter from Mathers, in Paris.'
Kate sat upright. 'What did it say?'
'The letter denounced Westcott as a forger and a fraud, and the author of Fraulein Sprengel's putative correspondence. Your aunt brought it to show me. As you might imagine, she was extremely distraught.'
Kate nodded, remembering. 'She was indeed. She was still highly disturbed when she returned yesterday evening.'
The vicar's mouth twisted, as if he were tasting something foul. 'It seems that the respected Dr. Westcott bestowed upon himself his own forged authorization to establish the Order of the Golden Dawn.'
Kate stared at him. 'If the letters are forgeries,' she said
slowly, 'then the Order founded on their authority is-'
'A sham.' The vicar spoke with a weary distaste, darkened with anger.
'And the cipher document?' She recalled that some of its pages had a watermarked date of 1809, suggesting that it was over eighty years old, while others were unmarked. But the author of the document might have found a cache of old paper, and while the writing looked brown and faded, a sepia ink might have been used to make it appear so.
' 'If you and Mathers are right in your accusation, one must suspect that the cipher document is also a piece of fakery.' Agitated, the vicar heaved himself out of the chair and began to pace back and forth in front of the fire. ' The truth of the matter is that Westcott has made fools of all who trusted him. The Order of the Golden Dawn is a hoax and a fraud.'
'But what could Dr. Westcott gain from such an action? Money?'
'Something worth more to him than money,' the vicar replied. 'Repute. Public acclaim. Power over others.' He spoke with increasing passion. 'Self-aggrandizement. Self-magnification. These are powerful motives. People kill for far less. A modest deception is nothing to balk at.'
'Who knows about Mathers's accusation?'
'Only you, I, and Mrs. Farnsworth,' the vicar said. 'Both your aunt and I felt the matter should be held strictly confidential, and that some sort of committee should be convened to inquire into it.'
'And how does Mrs. Farnsworth view the situation?'
'I do not know, for Sabrina went to see her after she visited me. I would not be surprised if Mrs. Farnsworth discounted Mathers's indictment. She and Westcott are close friends, some even say…' He paused in his pacing and cleared his throat uncomfortably. 'Excuse me for offending you, my dear. Some say they are lovers. And Mathers has been a pest since the beginning. He has challenged Westcott's authority on several occasions. Worse, he regularly harasses people for money for his work in Paris.'
Kate recalled the conversation she had overheard at Mrs. Farnsworth's. Mathers had been 'that miscreant Mathers,'
who had made 'unprincipled charges.' At the time, she had understood nothing of the exchange, except that the doctor was furious at Mathers and Mrs. Farnsworth anxious to smooth things over. Now, however, the situation was much clearer.
'Do you believe that Mrs. Farnsworth might want to conceal Mathers's accusation?' she asked.
The vicar resumed his pacing. 'I would expect her to. She has a great deal at stake in the success of the Order. She has suffered financial reverses, to the point where she has only the house on Keenan Street and one servant. Members of the temple in Colchester contribute heavily to her support, and are also assisting her in her efforts to reestablish her acting career. If the organization is discredited, the members will be disappointed and angry, some even furious. Their support for her will certainly dissolve.'
Kate could easily understand. If members of the Order believed that Mrs. Farnsworth and Dr. Westcott were lovers, they might even believe that she had been a partner to the fraud. That would be the end of the temple, and of the soirees that attracted such well-known people as Oscar Wilde, Willie Yeats, and Conan Doyle. No wonder she rejected Mathers's accusation.
The vicar paused once more in his pacing. 'Your discovery of the inconsistencies in the letters is crucial. That proof will no doubt persuade her that it is best to expose the fraud now, whatever the personal consequences, for it is bound to come out eventually. I shall have to speak to her in a day or two.' He turned to Kate. ' 'But there are matters of more immediate consequence that must be tended to, Miss Ardleigh-Kath-ryn, if I may?'
Kate nodded gravely. 'I suppose you are speaking of the funeral arrangements.'
The vicar's expression was infinitely sad. 'Yes, of course. But in the meantime, the estate must be managed, decisions must be made. Since you are your aunt's heir-'
Kate gasped.
'You did not know?'
Wordlessly, Kate shook her head.
'Yesterday, she altered her will, removing her former major beneficiary-'
'Her sister?'
'Yes. Sabrina had come to look upon you almost as a daughter, Kathryn. She wanted you to have Bishop's Keep and sufficient means to support it and yourself, even if you should choose to marry.'
Kate bowed her head as the enormity of the realization washed over her, overwhelming her in a torrent of feeling- amazement, incredulity, gratitude. The magnitude of her changed circumstances was utterly beyond belief. Then she remembered something, and raised her head.
'In her last conscious moments, my aunt spoke of a child. She called her Jocelyn. Dr. Randall insisted that she was delirious. You have known Aunt Sabrina for a long time. Do you know anything of a child?'
The vicar stood before her, hands clasped behind his back. His eyes were distressed, but his mouth was gentle. 'Kathryn, I cannot discuss this matter with you at the present time. I very much regret that I cannot be more forthcoming.'
'I understand,' Kate said, although she did not. If Aunt Sabrina had a daughter, why had she left the Ardleigh estate to a niece?
Who was Jocelyn Ardleigh?
46
'Some circumstantial evidence is very strong, as when you fend a trout in the milk.'
Still thinking about his conversation with Charles, Edward Laken came into the library, one step behind the stiff-backed butler.
'The constable, miss,' the butler said. Laken noticed that he kept his eyes averted, as if the policeman were beneath notice. Or perhaps because he held some sort of guilty knowledge that he did not want the inquisitor to see.
'Thank you, Mudd,' Miss Ardleigh said from her chair by the fire. 'You may go.'
When the butler had gone, Laken bowed slightly to Kate and nodded at the vicar, whom he had known for nearly twenty-five years. 'Good afternoon, sir.'
'Good afternoon, Edward,' the vicar said somberly. 'A most unhappy business.'
'I fear so,' Laken said. He turned to Miss Ardleigh, whose face was shadowed under her heavy mound of mahogany hair. 'But I am pleased to tell you, Miss Ardleigh, that we may have discovered the person responsible for your aunts' deaths.'
'Indeed!' she exclaimed. Her surprise was mixed with distress, Laken saw-quite understandably so. She knew that
