Chapter 26
The Residency descended into further chaos as neighbors and friends gathered and plied Lady Pilkington with questions.
The stables were inundated with new arrivals and a few carriages, and it took many long minutes for Sophia’s and Rachael’s horses to be readied.
Sophia swung into the saddle with a groan she couldn’t contain.
Everything on her right side hurt, and her feet were in agony from running and climbing trees in shoes meant for sitting in a drawing room.
She glanced at Rachael, who was scraped, bruised, and filthy, and was glad to have made such a good friend.
She did not have many, and Ivy was very far away.
Rachael led the way out of the stable, and Sophia wished they would have thought to put on a light pelisse.
For all that it was India, it was winter, and still raining.
It wasn’t torrential as in monsoon season, but steady enough that by the time they neared the ruins, Sophia was soaked and irritated.
The thunder and lightning continued intermittently; occasionally the sky split and the horses shied.
Grateful her mount wasn’t nearly as tall as an elephant or a stone wall surrounding a palace, she controlled it with relative ease.
She wasn’t the horsewoman Rachael was, but she had done her fair share of riding in two years.
They passed the courtyard ruins, and Sophia looked through the rain hoping to see Charity.
The letter, though, had said “the heart,” which Charity had identified as the frightening building beyond the courtyard.
If the clergyman had hidden the stolen document somewhere among the ruins, it would have to be a fairly sheltered spot.
She and Rachael guided their mounts slowly through the buildings, skirting fallen statuary and bending down to ride under arches and around tipped pillars as they approached the enclosed sanctuary.
“I was hoping we might see them out here,” Sophia admitted. “At least Charity. We were delayed in leaving, but she was still on foot. She must already be in there, and we have no torch, no light source at all.”
Rachael drew her mount alongside Sophia’s.
“She was upset; even in the dark she could easily have made it here in twenty minutes. It took us almost that long to get saddled up.” She drew a deep breath and exhaled, shoving wet hair out of her face.
“We can assume if Denney is in there, he will have a torch or lamp.”
Sophia nodded and followed Rachael. They drew closer to the imposing structure, charmingly haunting in the daylight but terrifying at night.
She dismounted, tied her horse next to Rachael’s, and wiped the rain out of her eyes.
She was cold, and wet, and so very tired.
She wished for the ability to send Anthony a message with her mind, and she realized she was fatigued enough that her thinking was muddled.
Come save me, my gallant knight on a black stallion. I am tired, and I want to be carried home like a princess.
She blinked, fuzzy-headed, and for a moment was certain she saw two of everything. She stumbled and tripped on the muddied hem of her dress.
Rachael turned around, her arm protecting a leather bag that held their only weapon. “Are you well?”
Sophia pushed her hair off her forehead with numb fingers. “Yes. Just tired.”
“Here.” Rachael grasped her hand and continued moving toward the building.
They entered slowly under a huge arch and walked forward.
“Look,” Rachael whispered and pointed to a second arch, beyond which lightning flashed, illuminating a wide courtyard open to the sky and filled with vines and leaves.
Huge trees grew inside the area, and those outside leaned over, suspending long vines and branches to the interior.
As on the palace wall, the tree roots extended above ground and pushed their way over and under the stone structure, becoming part of it and transforming the building into a living thing.
A snarl and hiss sounded from behind, and Sophia jumped. Rachael urged her forward, mumbling something about not wanting to be eaten by a snake, and she weaved a bit too, causing Sophia to wonder if the blind were leading the blind.
They crossed the courtyard, skirts heavy and dresses plastered to the skin.
Sophia pulled out the few pins that remained in her hair and dropped them on the ground as she walked, allowing her hair to fall free.
It was soaked, and everything ached from head to toe.
She realized that there was a circle of hell Dante had overlooked.
Once on the other side of the courtyard, they passed under another arch and walked slowly into the suffocating dark. “I do not think we should venture too much farther without light,” Rachael whispered, and the sound echoed off the walls.
Sophia agreed and was prepared to turn back when she spied a sliver of light ahead and to the right. “Do you see it?”
She felt Rachael’s answering nod, and they pushed forward. Sophia closed her eyes when she heard a rustle and a hiss—if they didn’t step on a snake, or worse, she would count herself lucky. It was then she heard the muted sound of voices.
The light grew as they reached a narrow doorway and turned a corner into a large square chamber that contained a waist-high wall roughly three feet from each exterior wall.
Each corner inside the low-walled square supported a pillar that was larger than Sophia in circumference.
The space was dimly lit by a lantern, and Sophia spied Charity’s muddied, light blue dress.
She pulled Rachael down behind the wall and edged carefully along it until she was behind the pillar closest to the girl.
Charity was out of breath. She had likely only just beat them there. “Papa, I do not understand why.”
The clergyman’s voice was heavy. “I did it for both of you.”
“But why offer it to the prince’s corrupt advisors? Why offer up Beatrice?” Her voice broke. “Do you know what they do—what I saw tonight? If they remain in power, uphold the old customs, even Mr. Darzi would be unable to protect her.”
“The two of you were willful and refused to select husbands in England! The monetary potential of this document would have bought you men of consequence and placed me in political power.”
“I suspect you couldn’t have cared less about buying us ‘men of consequence,’” Charity said bitterly. “You wanted money and power for yourself. You are the very thing you preach against each Sabbath!”
“I am not!” The roar echoed through the room, and Sophia winced.
“You killed the captain!” Charity’s voice rose to a squeak.
“No. Not intentionally. Miller assumed I had contacts within the palace that could help facilitate the sale of the document, and he offered me half of whatever it sold for to arrange it. When I realized Darzi had an interest in pursuing your sister, prospects for the plan’s success seemed even better.
” The man sighed, and Sophia heard a shuffling of feet.
Could it be he was actually feeling the sting of a conscience?
“I frequently spend time with Lord Pilkington in his study. I know the combination to his safe. The night of the costume party, the captain asked me to meet him in the study to retrieve the packet of documents. He worried incessantly and was convinced it wasn’t safe unless he had it with him at all times.
He figured that as the party was in full swing, Pilkington would be busy with his guests, and the study would be unoccupied. We were to review our plan.”
There was a pause. Charity finally broke it, and her voice was flat. “What happened to the plan?”
“He hadn’t told me that the document was encoded.
He hadn’t found the key to decipher it and told me I had to discern it.
As if I should know! He planned to set sail within three days and return it to London, forgoing the rest of his voyage.
He said someone in a position of power—possibly a peer—had tried to sell it once already.
But I knew if he left India, the partnership was lost and I would never see my half of the money.
I had already made contact with Prince Ekavir’s advisors.
The ball was rolling, and it was too big for me to stop by that point. ”
“So you killed him.”
“We fought! I defended myself.” There was a shuffling of feet again. “I hardly need to explain myself to you, girl. That you would stand here in judgment of me is beyond the pale!”
“And yet I do!” Charity shouted, her voice ringing against the cold, damp walls. “I do judge you, Father, and find you lacking! You have not treated me or Beatrice well, let alone our mother! There has never been an ounce of softness from you.”
“That is what a mother is for! A man is not to be soft.”
Charity laughed. “I had assumed that perhaps Taj Darzi would not be good enough for Beatrice, but he is gentle and kind and very strong. All of the things you are not.”
“I do not know who it is you think you talk to, Charity, but—”
“I am talking to a murderer and a man who strikes women.” Charity’s voice broke. “A man who hides his weaknesses behind a cloak of feigned righteousness.”
Sophia slowly lifted her head and peeked past the pillar.
The clergyman paced in a tight circle, occasionally pulling at his hair.
He held a deadly looking blade in one hand and a packet of papers in the other.
“You should never have come here, Charity. I was going to hide this and then disappear for a time.”
“Where is his body? His family needs to know.” Charity moved closer to her father, and Sophia chewed on her lip. She didn’t want the girl venturing too close to the knife.
Rachael slowly opened her satchel and pulled out the pistol.
Sophia closed her eyes, hoping the weapon would prove unnecessary. She didn’t want Rachael to kill a man; she didn’t want Charity to see her father die.
Denney was silent for so long Sophia decided he wasn’t going to answer his daughter’s question.
“I buried him with Mr. Carter.”
Stunned silence followed his pronouncement. Sophia frowned. Who was Mr. Carter? She glanced at Rachael, whose eyes were wide. She had her hand over her mouth.
“You buried him in the same grave as a parishioner who had just died?” Charity’s voice was a combination of dismay and anger.
She put her hand to her forehead. “That was why you had Faiyaz dig Mr. Carter’s grave a day early.
You put . . .” She choked. “You put the captain’s body in it and then covered it with dirt.
When they lowered Mr. Carter’s coffin, nobody was the wiser that there was a man already in that grave! ”
“Charity, do not judge me! I had no other choice.”
“You had a choice.” Charity’s tone was bitter, and Sophia felt a moment of sadness. She had hoped to never hear Charity Denney sound bitter. “You could have at least left Captain Miller in the study. He could have had a proper burial.”
“I was not thinking clearly at the time.” Denney’s voice cracked like a whip. Even still, he saw himself as morally superior to everyone. “And things grew increasingly complicated. I was not aware that there had been a witness to Captain Miller’s death.”
“Who?”
“The boy.”
“The boy?” A pause, then a gasp as Charity connected the pieces. “Charlie?” She began to cry, and it broke Sophia’s heart. “You had that girl lure him away into the jungle! I suppose we should be grateful you weren’t awful enough to kill a child outright.”
“We waste time. Before long, others will discover where you’ve gone to. I am leaving, and you know the truth of it all. It matters not to me what you do with the information. I shall be gone where I will never be found.”
“I cannot allow you to take that document with you, Father. If it is as valuable as you suggest, if it contains secrets, that means innocent people could be hurt if it is in the wrong hands.”
Sophia closed her eyes and eased back down until she was sitting with her back against the low wall. Her foot bumped a rock and it skittered away. Sophia winced at the sound it made.
“Who is there?” Denney’s shout echoed through the room. “Who is it?” He had rounded the corner before Sophia could blink. She pulled herself to her feet with a wince, and Rachael stood, the gun pointed at the man’s chest.
“I do not wish to use this, sir.” Rachael’s voice shook, evidence of her exhaustion.
“Rachael,” Charity said, her voice barely more than a whisper.
“She will not use it unless she must. Charity, you must be brave. I want you to leave this room, take one of the horses, and return to the mansion. Have Major Stuart and Lord Wilshire sent here straightaway. They are good and fair men, and you know they will not hurt your father unjustly.”
“I cannot. I cannot leave you here with him.”
Sophia smiled at Charity. “Sweet girl, it will be well. You go. Rachael and I will wait here with him. We are armed, and shall be fine.”
Charity gave her father one last look and left.
Denney eyed Sophia and Rachael, his eyes clouded with calculation. He still held the packet of papers in his hand, and when Sophia moved to take it from him, he whipped the blade up and snarled. “Do not touch it.”
“It needs destroying, Clergyman Denney,” Sophia said evenly.
“It is worth a fortune.”
She nodded. “And people I love will be in danger if it is not either burned or locked up in the King’s bedchamber. We speak of treason, sir.”
He eyed her speculatively. “You have a vested interest in taking this from me, do you? But I cannot let that happen. I have come too far. And as for you, Miss Scarsdale, I do not believe you will shoot me.”
“I sat in your last sermon, Clergyman. I listened to you preach about righteous behavior and the evils of sin. And all the while, you had killed a man and put him in another man’s grave.
You were prepared to sell your daughter to madmen who care for nothing but their own gain, and now apparently you are willing to risk innocent lives for your own gain.
I will not let you harm Sophia, and I will not let you leave with that packet. ”
“Well done, Miss Scarsdale,” a soft voice from the entryway said. “I shall take your place, now.” It was Lord Braxton, and Sophia’s despair rose. The night had rapidly progressed from bad to worse. She didn’t believe they could trust him any more than the murdering clergyman.