the plague.
The reverend stepped out to signify the beginning of the service. Beside her, Annie gave an excited squeal. “Look, Lucy,” she whispered. “It’s Lucas.”
Watching Lucas, she thought he seemed different. He had not the reverend’s fire, but his words were earnest, sincere—compelling. He looked to have taken to his new calling. Perhaps, like herself, he had lost a bit of the tenderness of youth, having witnessed so much death and misery over the past year.
* * *
After the service was over, the family waited outside to congratulate Lucas on his sermon. As she waited, Lucy noticed Constable Duncan and a soldier approach Del Gado, the woman who so resembled Bessie still clinging to his arm. Lucy could see that the constable, while still handsome, looked far older than his years. The last year had not been easy on him; that was plain enough.
Lucy nudged Cook, who got the hint. They sidled closer, trying to hear the constable’s conversation with the painter. Lucy noticed that Adam also seemed to have moved closer as he conversed lightly with an old acquaintance.
“No, I hadn’t seen Marie since before the babe was born,” Lucy heard Del Gado telling Constable Duncan. “She most certainly had left before then. No doubt to be with the baby’s father, as the babe most assuredly was not mine.”
Constable Duncan coughed politely. “Miss, if you would excuse us? I’d like a private word with Master Del Gado.”
Nodding, the woman stepped away, nervously rubbing her hands on her skirts. The three men moved down the path, out of earshot.
Lucy and Cook looked at each other. Cook nodded toward the woman, a question in her eyes. Adam, having sauntered over, caught their wordless exchange. “What?” he demanded. “Tell me.”
“It’s her cloak,” Lucy whispered behind her sleeve. “Bessie’s.”
He glanced at the woman’s cloak. “How can you possibly know that?” Adam asked. “There must be a hundred cloaks like that—”
Cook added, “Look at the burned patch. There, above the hem.”
As Adam peered closer, Lucy recalled that day with a start. Bessie had come in from the cold, her eyes intensified by the blue of her cloak, her cheeks rosy. It was not long after Bessie had met Will, Lucy remembered. Even when they realized her cloak had caught a spark, Bessie had just laughed when John stamped it out.
“How did she get it? The cloak, I mean?” Cook wondered out loud. “It disappeared from the house along with her other clothes.”
The suspicion that had been gnawing at Lucy would be held in no longer. “Del Gado?” she murmured, thinking about her suspicions from so long ago.
They all watched as Del Gado took his leave of the constables, without a backward glimpse at the woman he had accompanied to St. Peter’s.
“I wonder what brought him to this parish,” Lucy murmured, watching the woman disappear back into the church. “Perhaps he’s moved out of Putney-on-the-Green.”
Adam nodded. “We must find out.”
“I’ll go and see him,” Lucy said.
Adam turned on her fiercely. “You’ll do no such thing!”
Cook cocked her head, her expression inscrutable. “I must head back, lest dinner not be ready for the magistrate. Lucy, don’t do anything foolish.”
Lucy shrugged. “Fine. You talk to Del Gado, then,” she said to Adam. “I’ll talk to her. Find out about that cloak.”
21
Lucy moved back into the empty church. The woman was sitting alone in a pew, her head bent in prayer. Casually, Lucy sank into a pew a few rows back, thinking about how she could best approach her. Only a few people remained in the church, and she did not want to draw attention to their conversation.
“Lucy?” Lucas asked, standing beside her. “Are you all right? I saw you come in here.”
She smiled and patted the place beside her. “Oh, I’m fine, Lucas.”
“I was so glad to know that you had survived the Black Death,” Lucas continued, sliding into the pew. “You’re looking well. Tired, though.” He also inquired after her brother, adding, “’Twas a miracle that he was acquitted of the crime.”
Lucy smiled, feeling comforted by Lucas’s presence. “Yes, ’twas helpful that Richard discovered his conscience, and in such a timely way!”
“Yes, indeed,” Lucas said. “I have not seen you since I stopped by that fateful day. I’ve long thought about you, though, hoping you were well. I was quite distressed when I learned that Mistress Hargrave had succumbed to the dreadful illness. I also heard that you did not spare yourself in taking care of the family. How do you fare now, Lucy?”
“I am well.”