A Murder at Rosamund's Gate - By Susanna Calkins Page 0,54

the midst of such bloodlust. The fever that had followed would fit, for it was well known that those animals could sicken a man, and even kill him, even if he had not lost blood. But what about the odd slashes across Adam’s chest and arms? No animal had made those!

As if hearing her thoughts through the door, Duncan spoke again. “We have it on good conviction that those marks on your body were not from a beast.”

Adam murmured something that Lucy did not catch.

They all jumped as Master Hargrave roared, “Who dares whip my son?”

Lucy’s hand flew to her mouth.

“I think,” Adam said wryly, “there are many who would whip a man who busts up their sport. One in particular would be glad to have everyone know he had whipped me, if he had not perhaps preferred that I swing from the hangman’s noose.”

The constable said something. Adam raised his voice. “I should give you his name and address if I had it, but alas I do not. Perhaps if you asked around, down in Southwark, you might get proof of my innocence, but I think it will be unlikely, angry as they all were that I had ruined their sport. Now, sir, either arrest me or leave, I pray you. I’ve things to attend to here. Good day.”

Lucy and Cook tried to jump away as Adam threw open the door pretending they had not just been huddled with their ears pressed to the wood. Seeing them, he stopped short and glared. Lucy opened her mouth to speak but could make no words come out. Adam looked at her, his glance so contemptuous that a deep hurt arose within her chest.

She realized then that Adam thought she had informed the constable about his injuries. Then a deeper realization surfaced. Who will believe Adam’s story? Even she had thought Adam had been lying. He will likely be arrested, she thought, feeling her stomach twist. If that be the case, he is as good as tried and hanged.

* * *

Just before dinner, the magistrate called Lucy to his private study. The constable had left three hours before without arresting Adam, but she knew that a bellman had just delivered a note to the magistrate. He was holding it in his hand when she tapped on the open door.

“Sit down, my dear,” the magistrate said, gesturing to his own large comfortable chair. Lucy sat, perching uneasily. She did not come into this room very often, since the master did not like his stacks of paper to be disturbed, and she certainly never sat in the magistrate’s own chair.

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” he said. “I just need to finish this letter.”

As Lucy waited, her gaze drifted to the portrait of the family above the fireplace. The magistrate was seated at the center, in his robes, taking the viewer’s gaze head-on. The mistress, looking lovely in a midnight blue gown, sat beside him, smiling warmly down at baby Sarah in her lap. Adam, dressed to imitate the magistrate, stood solemnly at his knee. Although he was looking up at his father, there was a slight smile on his lips.

For the first time, Lucy noticed that in the portrait, Adam’s right hand was positioned as if he were pointing. Following the direction of his index finger, she looked to the bottom right-hand corner of the painting, where, in the dark shadows, the family dog was tussling with what might have been the household cat. She smiled herself when she saw it.

The magistrate, about to speak, followed her gaze. “Oh, yes, indeed, I always assumed that Adam was smiling at me, his honored father! What a laugh I had one day, working on a court brief, when I looked up and saw this little joke painted in the portrait! It makes you see it all in a different light, doesn’t it! The honorable Master Hargrave has been supplanted in honor by a scuffling cat and dog!”

Lucy nodded but looked questioningly at the magistrate. His smile faded, and he seemed to have difficulty finding the words. “Constable Duncan, the king’s man who was here earlier—a good man, actually, I inquired around. Well, he believes he has identified Bessie’s murderer.”

“Oh, no! I don’t believe Adam did it, sir!” Lucy cried. “Not for one moment! They’ve made a dreadful mistake—”

Master Hargrave held up his hand. “Thank you for that. Your loyalty is commendable. No, I’m afraid it is not Adam.”

Lucy exhaled, still feeling uneasy. The magistrate