at the time it was just a pretty piece. The other, that of Jane Hardewick, I found where you killed her. It was not till later that I learned Del Gado had painted them both, so at the time I saw no connection between them.”
“I see.” Lucas digested this information and then continued. “Now I’ve grown tired of recounting all the acts I did as the Lord’s soldier. I’m afraid, Adam, Lucy, it’s time to give you over to His great embrace.” He pulled out his knife.
Desperately, Lucy seized on a way to stall him. “But Bessie? Why Bessie? You cared about her! We were all friends! You did not know those other girls so well, but Bessie, you knew her!”
Lucas bared his teeth in the semblance of a smile. “’Twas the monster inside me. You said it yourself. The rest, Will, the painter, was easy enough to set in motion.”
He bent close down by Lucy’s ear and whispered, “This time I controlled it all, and this time I was more powerful, more purposeful. I could hardly sleep some nights for how much I enjoyed the prospect of what I was going to do.”
“Bessie! Tell me about Bessie!” Lucy cried.
Lucas carefully traced the line of Lucy’s jaw. She had to will herself not to shudder. “It was the painter’s fault, you know. He dirtied so many girls, but, of course, they were all so willing to be sullied. No virtue, no honor.” Straightening up, Lucas ran his fingers along the stone wall and gazed for a moment at the likeness of St. Peter etched into the stone. “Bessie, like so many of them, fell under his spell. I told her not to pose for him! I warned her. What happened was her own fault.”
“No!” Lucy began indignantly, but a movement from Adam stopped her.
Lucas continued. “Yes, it was. The family was taking supper that night, you know, the night we got into the fight at the pub, and I was resting. She came to my room and actually asked me my advice about her baby.”
“She did?” Lucy asked, shocked.
“Oh, yes, she did. She was eager for my forgiveness and my help. It was all so easy. I told her that I would set everything right with Will. I told her that I had planned to meet him that evening for a drink, and that I would persuade Will to go to the park to meet with her. She was so desperate, you see, wanting to believe that her precious Will still loved her, despite what she had done with the painter!”
Snorting, Lucas continued. “’Twas not so hard later to find her and let her know that Will wanted to see her. ‘Tonight,’ I told her, ‘Will wants to take you to Knightsbridge.’ She seemed surprised, so I said, ‘Yes, Bessie, he wants to marry you. There is one there who will sell you a license.’ For indeed, there are those who presume to marry sinners without posting banns. Not condoned by the Church, of course, but when she asked, I convinced her it was all right, God would understand and forgive. Imagine!”
His hand clenched. “As if the good Lord would forgive such fornication in his name!” For a moment his eyes glazed over. “No matter. I told Bessie to pack nearly everything she had, but to leave some things out, lest Lucy suspect too soon and raise a hue and cry. I had the foresight to write a note, in case she needed to be convinced. ‘My dear Will has written me a letter!’ she said!” Lucas grinned. “Can you believe it?” He could have been commenting on the antics of a fishwife henpecking her husband at the tavern. “Why do these girls always have to bring the letter along? I have to admit, I wondered if she would. That’s why I didn’t sign Will’s name.”
Ignoring Lucy’s stare, he continued. “She worried, you see, about stealing the silver at first, but I assured her that Will would be making money soon enough. Then she thought the whole thing a lark, I can tell you that. She had some thought she would pay the magistrate back once her Will set up his own shop.” He scowled, momentarily diverted. “I thought she’d be branded a thief! Instead, they threw the harlot a fine funeral, far better than she deserved.”
Lucy felt a deep wave of sadness flood over her. Poor, sweet-hearted Bessie! “And then?” she croaked, a tear slipping down her cheek.
“The rest