Selena!”
“And neither did Hallam?” Emily answered her own question with the tone of her voice.
“Poor man.” Tragedy overtook farce again, and Charlotte felt the chill of real terror and real death. “No wonder he was confused. He swore he didn’t attack Selena, and it was the truth.” Anger hardened inside her, for the mischief Selena had caused, albeit some of it unknowingly. Still, it was a selfish and callous thing to do. She was a spoiled woman, and part of Charlotte wanted to punish her, at least to let her know that someone else knew what had really happened.
Emily understood immediately. A look passed between them, and there was no need for explanations. In time, Emily would allow Selena to perceive very precisely both her anger and her contempt.
“We’ve still got to find out what is going on here,” Emily began again after a few moments. “That is only one small mystery solved. It doesn’t tell us what Miss Lucinda saw.”
“We’ll just have to ask Phoebe,” Charlotte answered.
“Don’t you think I’ve tried that?” Emily was exasperated. “If it were so easy, I would have known the answer weeks ago!”
“Oh, I know she won’t tell us intentionally,” Charlotte was not upset. “But she might let something slip.”
Obediently, but without any expectations, Emily led her to where Phoebe was sipping a lemonade and talking to someone neither of them knew. It took ten minutes of innocuous pleasantries before they could get Phoebe on her own.
“Oh, dear,” Emily said with a sigh. “What a tedious creature. If I hear one more word about her health, I shall be positively rude.”
Charlotte seized her chance.
“She doesn’t realize how fortunate she is,” she said, looking at Phoebe. “If she had been obliged to endure the strain that you have, she would not make such an issue of a few sleepless nights.” She hesitated, not quite sure how to phrase the question she intended so as not to be obvious. “When you know something dreadful has happened, and suspicion is directed at those in your own family, it must be a nightmare!”
Phoebe’s face was vacant for a moment with unfeigned innocence.
“Oh, I was not worried over much. I did not think Diggory would do anything so cruel. He is not in the least unkind, you know? And I knew it could not have been Afton.”
Charlotte was stunned. If ever there was an innately cruel man, it was Afton Nash. She would have suspected him still, if there were any crime unsolved, but, of all crimes, rape seemed to satisfy his character best.
“How can you know?” she said without thought. “He was alone some of that evening.”
“I-” To Charlotte’s amazement, Phoebe blushed scarlet, the color burning painfully up her face to the very roots of her hair. “I-” She blinked, and her eyes filled with tears and looked away. “I had confidence it could not be him-that-that is what I meant to say.”
“But you do know there is something wrong in the Walk!” Emily took advantage of the moment, and Charlotte’s sudden silence.
Phoebe stared at her, her eyes widening as her mind flooded with a great question.
“You know what it is?” she breathed.
Emily hesitated, unsure which was best, to lie, or to admit ignorance. She compromised.
“I know something. And I mean to fight it! Will you help us?”
It was masterly. Charlotte looked at her with admiration.
Phoebe took her arm, squeezing it till the pressure made her wince.
“Oh, don’t, Emily! You can’t realize what you are doing! The danger isn’t over, you know. There will be more, and worse! Believe me!”
“Then we must fight it!”
“We can’t! It is too big, and too dreadful. Just wear a cross, say your prayers every night and morning; and don’t go out at night. Don’t even look out of your windows. Just stay at home and don’t inquire into anything! Do as I say, Emily, and maybe it won’t come after you.”
Charlotte wanted to say more, but she was hurt inside by such fear. She grasped Emily.
“Perhaps that is good advice.” She swallowed her feelings. “If you will excuse us, we must speak to Lady Tamworth. We have not even acknowledged her yet.”
“Of course,” Phoebe murmured. “But, do be careful, Emily! Remember what I said.”
Emily gave her a weak smile and walked reluctantly toward Lady Tamworth.
It was another half hour before they had the opportunity to fade behind the rosebeds and disappear, unobserved, into the private part of the garden. They were in a herbaceous walk, backed by an even taller hedge of beach, quite impenetrable.
“Where now?” Charlotte asked.
“Behind that,” Emily answered. “There has to be a way around it or else a gate.”
“I hope it isn’t locked.” Charlotte was annoyed at the thought. It would stop them completely. Oddly enough, it had not occurred to her before, because she never locked doors herself.
They walked along side by side, searching the thick leaves till they found the door, almost overgrown.
“It looks as if it isn’t used!” Emily said in disbelief. “This can’t be it.”
“Wait a minute.” Charlotte looked at it more closely, studying the hinges. “It opens the other way. It must be all cleared on the other side, for it to swing. Try it.”
Emily pushed. It did not move.
Charlotte felt her heart sink. It was locked.
Emily pulled a pin out of her hair and pushed it into the lock.
“You can’t do it with that.” Charlotte let all her disappointment into her voice.
Emily ignored her and went on poking. She took the pin out and straightened it, making a loop on one end, then tried again.
“There,” she said with satisfaction, and pushed the flat surface of the door gently. It swung open without a sound.
Charlotte was staggered.
“Where did you learn to do that?” she demanded.
Emily grinned. “My housekeeper’s always taking the keys with her, even to bed, and I hate being obliged to ask her to get into my own linen cupboard. I thought it was rather a nice trick. Come on, let’s see what is through there.”
They tiptoed through the door and swung it shut behind them. At first it was disappointing, just a large garden room set out in paved walkways with little plots of green herbs between. They went all the way round it, but there was nothing else.
Emily stopped, disgusted.
“Why on earth bother to lock the gate to this?” she said angrily. “There’s nothing here!”
Charlotte bent to touch one of the herb leaves and crush it between her fingers. It smelled bitter and aromatic.
“I wonder if it is some sort of drug,” she said thoughtfully.
“Nonsense!” Emily brushed it aside. “Opium comes from poppies, and they grow in Turkey, or China, or somewhere.”
“There are other things.” Charlotte refused to give up. “What a peculiar shape this garden is, I mean the way the stones are laid out. It must have taken someone an awful lot of work.”
“It’s only star-shaped,” Emily replied. “I don’t think it’s very attractive. It’s uneven.”
“A star!”
“Yes, the other points are over there, and behind the room. Why?”
“How many points altogether?” Something was beginning to form in Charlotte’s mind, a memory of a case Pitt had been working on more than a year ago, and a scar he had spoken of.
Emily counted.
“Five. Why?”
“Five! That means it is a pentacle!”
“If that’s what you call it.” Emily was not impressed. “What does it matter?”
