The Serpent In The Garden_ A Novel Part 24

"Possibly." Once again he began to walk toward Joshua. "But that's neither here nor there now, is it? Indeed, as I see it, Mr. Pope, there's only one question remaining."

"What's that?"

Granger's face seemed devoid of emotion, bereft of soul. Joshua backed along the path away from him. He had reached the threshold of the pinery now. He reversed to the atrium and paused beneath the glittering cupola, uncertain whether to run like the devil or face Granger. He was still undecided when Granger reached forward and clutched his arm; Granger's face came to within an inch of Joshua's, so that the gardener's hot, sour breath brushed his cheek.

"What do you intend to do about it?" said Granger between gritted teeth.

Joshua looked at him hard and long. Logic told him Granger's mind was unbalanced and that he might attack most viciously at any minute. The realization made his heart race and his stomach feel as heavy as a stone. And yet, despite all this, Joshua still felt a small flicker of sympathy. Granger was an outsider, like his hapless victim h.o.a.re and Joshua himself. Who was Joshua to say what might have happened had he found himself in such sorry circ.u.mstances? Joshua shook his head and gave him a brief, thoughtful smile. "That is not for me to decide. I have written my findings down for Mr. Bentnick to judge. Whatever happens to me, he will know what you did. And now, Mr. Granger, it remains only for me to bid you good day."

No doubt it was the knowledge that if he killed Joshua he would be discovered that stayed his hand. No doubt it was fanciful of Joshua to believe that Granger saw the flash of sympathy in his face and reciprocated. In any event, Granger released his grip and Joshua walked to the gate. Granger made no attempt to prevent him.

Chapter Forty-eight.

December 1786 Saint Peter's Court, Saint Martin's Lane, London EXACTLY ONE MONTH after Joshua's nocturnal visitor had called, he prepared himself for her return. Writing the account of his days at Astley had stirred strange recollections, reawakened sentiments he had thought long forgotten. But he had kept his word and bound the pages ready for her, and now he longed to be rid of the memories.

On the day he expected his visitor he did not set foot out of Saint Peter's Court. He listened anxiously for a knock at the door or a footstep on the stair. But although he waited up past midnight, she never came.

A fortnight came and went. Winter chills relieved the gales of November, ice crystals lined the inside of his windows, and Joshua's ma.n.u.script lay bound with a vermilion ribbon in a corner of his rooms. On occasion he looked at it fretfully as it gathered dust. Suppose she never returned? Would he ever discover her purpose or who she was? Sometimes his consternation ran deeper. Was this the purpose of her coming so long after the entire business was forgotten? Did she intend simply to ruffle his existence and leave him always to listen for a creak of the stair? If so, he resolved, she would not succeed. He would concentrate on the day-to-day and banish all thoughts of the terrible episode he had endured at Astley and of his peculiar visitor.

One gloomy afternoon in mid-December he was busy in his painting room. His two daughters were seated before him, grumbling at having to hold the pose he had set them. Just then his wife opened the door and announced he had a lady caller.

"Who is it?" demanded Joshua, instantly alerted.

"She won't give me her name. She says you have something for her and asked me to give you this."

Joshua looked at the object his wife held out toward him. It was the same s.h.a.green box his nocturnal visitor had shown him. He was so astounded to see it in his wife's hand that he felt the blood drain from his face. He had told her of the woman's previous visit, but for reasons of his own he had failed to mention the box and its contents.

"What is it?" said his wife. "You are grown very pale."

"It is she," Joshua whispered. "And I told her I won't take this wretched thing in payment. Nor will I give her what she has come for unless she tells me what I want to know: her name and her purpose."

"In that case," said Joshua's wife unflinchingly, "I will descend and tell her so."

She departed, leaving the door ajar. Joshua sent his daughters away, stoked up the fire, and drew back the curtain a little. The sky was overburdened with clouds as gray as his spirits, but there was light nonetheless. He paced the room, his thoughts racing. What would he say? How should he address her? From below he could hear the sound of faint echoing conversation. He distinguished his wife's voice from that of the other woman, although he couldn't make out what they were saying. The exchange lasted some minutes and then silence, the sound of the door slamming, followed by footsteps approaching on the stair.

A few minutes later his wife returned with the visitor at her side. The woman was dressed all in black as before, only this time, instead of shielding her face with the hood of her cloak, she wore a hat trimmed with a crimson ostrich feather, which curled over the brim like the frond of a fern and caressed a penciled brow.

"Come in," Joshua said to her calmly. "Allow me to take your cloak and hat. I have been expecting you for some time now."

"I won't stay. I came only to collect what you promised me." She glanced about the room. With astonishing speed her eyes settled upon his ma.n.u.script. "Is this it?"

Joshua swiftly intercepted her before she could pick up the bundle. "That was not our agreement. I said I would give you my account provided you identified yourself and your purpose."

She regarded him levelly. "Have you still no idea who I am?"

"Madam, I have racked my brains, for I feel I do know you, yet I have not the faintest notion who you are."

"Then look again."

She removed her plumed hat to reveal an elaborate coiffure. She looked him straight in the eye and then turned slowly toward the window, holding up her chin as though she were a model presenting herself for his perusal. He saw a well-formed face, a full mouth, straight nose, and blue-gray eyes that were almond shaped and set slightly tilted in her face in a manner that reminded him curiously of a cat. On her previous visit he had judged her to be aged about fifty, yet now, in the light of day, lines around the corners of her eyes and the furrows between her brows seemed incised less deeply than he recalled. She wasn't as old as he had first believed, but she had led a life that had marked her. He found himself returning to her eyes, the shape of which now seemed uncannily familiar.

Joshua shook his head and sighed a deep, almost theatrical sigh redolent of frustration. He felt more than a little absurd to be standing in his own room, in the presence of his wife, with a strange woman who claimed to know him. "I regret, madam, I am no wiser than before."

"Then let me save your blushes and tell you. I am Violet Cobb."

"Violet, Sabine Mercier's daughter?"

"The very same."

Joshua looked again with renewed interest. When he had been acquainted with her at Astley, Violet had been a startling but chilly beauty. This lady gave herself airs, she held herself as if she knew her attractions, she had the cool demeanor that he remembered, yet the remarkable radiance was gone. Time had mellowed her loveliness but had failed to warm her.

"Tell me, Mrs. Cobb, what has brought you here?

"Before I do that I should tell you a little of what has pa.s.sed in the last two decades. Perhaps you already know that my mother never married Herbert Bentnick?"

Joshua nodded his a.s.sent. "I had heard something of the sort, though I never knew the details."

"Herbert broke off the engagement on receiving your letter and learning of her involvement in the death of Bartholomew h.o.a.re. He said he couldn't rid himself of the suspicion that if she was willing to poison h.o.a.re-albeit not fatally-she might have poisoned his first wife, Jane, and possibly her two previous husbands as well. My mother vehemently denied this, but Herbert wouldn't be swayed and said the trust between them was broken. She had no alternative but to return with me to Bridgetown, where we took up residence in the house Charles Mercier had left her. A year later I married John Cobb with her blessing. The next two decades pa.s.sed uneventfully, but my mother never married again, and became preoccupied by the notion that the necklace was cursed, and that, since her refusal to give it up to Charles Mercier's daughter, ill fortune had dogged her life. Six months ago, after a short illness, my mother died."

"I am sorry to hear it, but that still does not explain your coming here and offering me the necklace," Joshua said, in a tone that bespoke his sympathetic detachment.

Violet swallowed, dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief. "I am coming to that very point. My mother left her house and all her possessions to me. But there was a codicil stating that although the necklace was mine to do as I pleased with, she strongly advised that I shouldn't keep it. It had brought her nothing but misfortune and she would not wish the same upon me. I considered her wishes most carefully. I determined to follow her advice and give the necklace away, but the question was: to whom should I give it?"

"And what made you settle upon me?" said Joshua without prevarication.

Violet looked at Joshua. "Did I say it was you I had settled on?"

"I believe you did, at our last meeting."

"And you, I believe, turned me down. You said you wanted no more than to know who I was and why I had come. Both those demands I have now met. Which is why, Mr. Pope, I intend to offer the necklace to your wife. You are married, I take it, to this lady?" Here she waved her hand to the window at the far side of the room where Joshua's wife was seated.

Joshua nodded, shivering inwardly. Now he understood. Although he was not usually given to superst.i.tion, he had never doubted the jewel's evil a.s.sociations, and thus he recognized Violet's offer for what it was. Violet held him culpable for the part he had played in preventing her mother's marriage to Herbert. She too believed the necklace was a talisman of woe and was using it to exact vengeance. If she could not attack him directly she would do it through the person he held most dear.

But despite his fears, now that he understood what drove her, Joshua felt strangely sympathetic toward Violet. She was distraught at the loss of her mother, but was eager to hear his version of events. Had Violet recognized his wife? Was the offer of the necklace partly prompted by the fact that she too had been involved in the sorry tale and had helped him unravel it? It was with trepidation that Joshua thus turned toward the window. "Bridget, do you hear that? Violet wants you to have Charles Mercier's necklace."

Bridget rose abruptly to her feet. She looked flushed and uncharacteristically nervous as she took the box Violet tendered and slowly opened it. As the lid fell back and revealed the necklace, she gasped. The jewel was more dazzling than ever.

"No," said she, gently but firmly closing the box and thrusting it back into Violet's hand. "I want nothing to do with it. I need no further proof that the jewel brings little joy and much sorrow."

Joshua met his wife's level gaze. He felt his heart pounding with relief in his chest and the same flood of affection for her he had two decades earlier, when he had seen her, in her sprigged muslin gown, coming along the road in Richmond, seated on the dogcart. "Are you certain, Bridget? The jewel is worth a fortune," he said.

"I have no desire to be blighted by the unhappiness it brings," said Bridget firmly.

"Then what would you have me do with it? I don't want it either," said Violet.

"You might take it to Astley and leave it at the cottage where Granger once lived. Bury it in the pinery; throw it in the lake; keep it yourself; do whatever you will; 'tis no concern of mine," said Bridget, crossing her arms across her capacious bosom as if defying Violet to contradict her.

But Violet did not contradict her. Her eyes glistened like wet pebbles caught in sunlight, and her upper lip wavered. She looked away. In that moment Joshua thought he glimpsed, beneath Violet's desire for vengeance, a core of sorrow now softened by resignation. She had tried to execute her mother's wish, but she had not succeeded.

Violet curtsied to Joshua and Bridget, then she left, taking the necklace and Joshua's ma.n.u.script with her. A week or so later a liveried messenger returned with the enclosed letter.

Cavendish Square20th December 1786 Sir, Your account is all very well but it doesn't say clearly whether or not my mother was was guilty of murder, nor does it state what became of the portrait you painted of her and Herbert Bentnick. I only ask because knowing would settle matters in my mind. I have always been haunted by the same doubts that caused Herbert to break off with her. It would bring me peace of a kind to know the truth. As to the portrait, if it is still in your possession, as I believe it must be, I would like to purchase it. My mother's striking looks inspired many artists to paint her, but in her opinion no other portrait so accurately captured the essence of her spirit. guilty of murder, nor does it state what became of the portrait you painted of her and Herbert Bentnick. I only ask because knowing would settle matters in my mind. I have always been haunted by the same doubts that caused Herbert to break off with her. It would bring me peace of a kind to know the truth. As to the portrait, if it is still in your possession, as I believe it must be, I would like to purchase it. My mother's striking looks inspired many artists to paint her, but in her opinion no other portrait so accurately captured the essence of her spirit.

You may tell your wife I took her at her word. I buried the necklace beneath the ruins of Granger's cottage. No one has lived there since he was hanged for the murder of Caroline Bentnick. While I was there I chanced to look in at the gardens of Astley. The head gardener, a man by the name of Joseph Carlton, remembered me and let me look around. I found the place well tended as I remembered, although the pinery was greatly dilapidated. He tells me Herbert lost his interest in gardens after the death of his daughter and my mother's departure. The pineapple plants were all torn up and burned; not a single fruit was ever consumed. Lizzie Manning, or Lizzie Bentnick as she is now, has overseen the garden ever since her marriage to Francis. But even she cannot abide entering the pinery.

I am, sir, your humble servant, Violet Cobb

Joshua went upstairs to the garret where he kept his store of new and old canvases, stretchers, and the occasional work that for one reason or another he had never sold. The paintings were stacked according to size and subject. There were half a dozen clumsy head-and-shoulders portraits dating from early in his career; eight or ten unfinished landscapes. Most of these were executed immediately after he left Astley, when his appet.i.te for faces was so dampened that he took to painting country scenes. Reason had prevailed only when penury threatened and Bridget accepted his proposal. Since then he had returned to earning a comfortable and enjoyable living from his craft.

Near the door a single full-length canvas was propped against an oak roof joist. The canvas was covered with a dust sheet. It had rested there so long that the cloth was infused with a thick sediment of gray and festooned with cobwebs.

Joshua pulled away the sheet. A cloud of dust rose like mist on a summer morning. He looked through the haze at Herbert Bentnick smiling proprietorially as he surveyed the reclining Sabine. Despite the distance of time and the yellowing of the varnish, she reminded him as vividly as ever of an odalisque in a sultan's seraglio, or Venus watched over by Vulcan; her beauty was unchanged-ripe, sweet, exotic, and dangerous.

For two decades Joshua had kept her sequestered here against her will. Herbert had refused to accept or pay for his portrait, but Sabine had written several times enquiring after it and he had never replied. Now she was dead. Although Violet had sought him out and tried to perpetuate her mother's malignant influence, she had been easily deterred. Sabine need trouble him no longer.

Joshua took up the canvas and carried it down to his painting room. He sat at his writing table and wrote the following short note.

Madam, You ask about your mother's guilt. I don't believe she wanted to kill h.o.a.re (who she thought was Cobb); she merely wished to dissuade him from eloping with you. That he died was undoubtedly Granger's fault.

I trust the enclosed painting will remind you of your mother's beauty and bring you the peace for which you search.

Joshua looked at the page thoughtfully. Should he raise the subject of the death of poor Nell Lambton, Charles Mercier's unfortunate daughter, with whom Sabine had arranged a rendezvous? Nell's death had troubled his conscience for many years. Crackman believed she had died from want but he hadn't known about Sabine's visit.

Joshua dipped his quill into the ink pot and prepared to write, but then he halted. He didn't know for certain Sabine had visited Nell. What would be the purpose in resurrecting further doubt? Sabine was dead. It was time for the whole matter to be buried like the necklace.

He signed the note with an exuberant flourish, sanded it, and sealed it with a wafer, then summoned his manservant, Thomas. He ordered him to wrap the painting and send it, together with his message, to an address in Cavendish Square where Mrs. Violet Cobb was currently residing. Then, with renewed vigor, he stepped back to his painting room, picked up his brush, and returned to the portrait of his daughters. It would certainly be the best thing he had ever painted.

1. What genre is The Serpent in the Garden The Serpent in the Garden? To what does the t.i.tle refer?

2. Who is narrating? How does this narrative style keep the mystery going?

3. In what place and time does the action occur? Starting on the first page, consider how Gleeson reveals the book's society and time frame. What are the social cla.s.ses of the main characters? Share some examples of how the author establishes these with her language, tone, and cadence.

4. Describe each of the book's central characters and briefly discuss them. What are they like? What do their names-Pope, Bentnick, Sabine, Cobb, Miss Lambton, Granger, Crackman, h.o.a.re, Mercier-reveal about them? What other writers use names as definers? Why do they do so?

5. Think about the locales and homes described in The Serpent in the Garden The Serpent in the Garden. What do these houses tell us about their occupants? For example, what do an indoor arboretum and a pinery tell us about their owners? How about Joshua's rented rooms?

6. What is revealed about Joshua Pope in the opening chapter? Why does the author emphasize his attire? Discuss Miss Quick's later remark to Joshua, "I wonder if our preoccupation with dress is not just a means to deflect attention from deeper worries.... Costume permits masquerade-you have only to visit the playhouse to see the truth of it." Who might be masquerading in this story? In general, do you agree or disagree with her statement? Why? Why does Joshua disagree?

7. What can a painter reveal in a portrait? Is Joshua considered to be a good painter? Who are his contemporaries? In The Serpent in the Garden The Serpent in the Garden how much time does he spend painting? how much time does he spend painting?

8. What makes Joshua's skills appropriate for his task as spy? Is he a good detective? Is he a reliable narrator and observer? Why?

9. Describe the necklace that is at the center of the book's mystery. Trace how Sabine's first husband, Charles Mercier, took possession of the necklace. What is the rest of its history?

10. Beginning at the point when Sabine hastily leaves the necklace with Joshua, how does Gleeson set up the disappearance of the necklace? Were you surprised at its disappearance? Why would Sabine entrust Joshua with it?

11. Joshua considers Sabine "a woman of haunting charms.... It struck him that her beauty wasn't radiant, it was the beauty of a siren...." Is his observation correct? Why?

12. In Chapter 17, what do you make of Joshua's questions: "If Cobb had been killed to preserve the necklace, why had the necklace disappeared after he died? Was there more than one person interested in possessing it?" What other "clues" have been provided that may or may not be helpful in solving the crime?

13. Explore each character's agenda regarding Mr. Cobb, his bag, and the necklace. What motivates their interest in the goings-on at Astley?

14. Joshua muses that when painting, "at best, a mysterious alchemy" takes place. "Canvas and paint imbued a composition with its own life, its own spark." Share whether or not you have seen this in any portraits. Which portrait painter(s) do you like? What does a good portrait reveal and how does a good portrait make you feel?

15. Share how you reacted when Caroline turns up dead, wearing the snake necklace. Why does Herbert tell Joshua that his "meddling with h.o.a.re and Cobb has resulted in the death of my daughter?" Does this follow logically?

16. Is it, as Joshua muses, "destiny" that brought him to Astley? Think about Joshua's att.i.tude throughout the book. How does he act? Do you sense that he is very concerned with the accusation against him?

17. Look at Chapter 39, when Cobb is released from jail. Consider Joshua's rundown of the list of suspects for the two murders. How does the author throw you off enough to keep you guessing? Midway into the book, who did you believe was behind these crimes? Why?

18. What is Beechwood and what is its connection to the story?

19. Discuss Joshua's last a.s.sessment of Sabine in the never delivered portrait of her and Herbert: "An odalisque in a sultan's seraglio, or Venus watched over by Vulcan." What does he mean? Why does he use such a cryptic statement?

20. The eminent gardener, Mr. Brown, says that growing pineapples is "an embodiment of much that is foolish in society today" (Chapter 33). What does he mean by this? How does this relate to the story of The Serpent in the Garden? The Serpent in the Garden?

21. What grabbed you in The Serpent in the Garden The Serpent in the Garden-the characters, the storytelling, the language, or a combination of all of these? What do you enjoy most about historical suspense?

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