Robin Paige: Death at Bishops Keep

Mrs. Farnsworth looked down at Kate. Her eyes betrayed the first slightest hint of fear but her voice was still firm. "Miss Ardleigh, would you be so good as to make your point plain? If you have a point, that is. As proof, I fear your photograph falls far short."

"The letters," Kate said. She drew a paper-wrapped bundle from the knitting bag. "The letters purportedly written by Fraulein Sprengel authorizing Dr. Westcott to establish the Order of the Golden Dawn. They are not authentic. They are forgeries, as is the cipher document. Aunt Sabrina guessed as much, and Mr. Mathers's letter to you, which she read, confirmed her suspicion-and perhaps her idea that the dead Frenchman found in the Colchester excavation was connected to you. She confronted you with what she knew and told you

that she intended to reveal the secret to the Order at large. You had to ensure her silence."

Mrs. Farnsworth started to speak, then stopped. Her eyes met Kate's. Her look was compounded of acrimony, a kind of pitying scorn, and some sort of deeply interior conflict. For a long moment she seemed to grapple with herself. Then she turned and went slowly to the desk in the corner. A moment later, she turned back again and gestured at the bundle Kate had placed on the table beside the photograph. "Those are the letters?"

"They are the documents you attempted to steal several nights ago from the library at Bishop's Keep," Kate said.

Her voice was disbelieving. "You believe me to have been an intruder?"

"Yes. You left your hat behind-Rosalind's hat. Of course," Kate added, "you had to have the letters, for the forgery is not clever. The fraud would be abundantly clear to any objective reader, who could reveal the hoax and show Dr. Westcott to be a sham and a charlatan. And if that happened, the entire Order would collapse-as you well knew."

"I see," Mrs. Farnsworth said reflectively, "that you have given this matter considerable thought. I wonder-while you were thinking, did you think perhaps of some… accommodation we might make?"

"Accommodation?"

Mrs. Farnsworth's smile did not touch her glacial eyes. "My dear Miss Ardleigh, you may think me wicked, but I do not think you naive. You come alone to accuse me of-" She pulled her brows together slightly. "You have come alone, have you not?"

Kate inclined her head.

Mrs. Farnsworth laughed. "There, you see? You come alone to accuse me of murder, bringing your proof. What else am I to conclude but that your evidence-the photograph, the documents-is for sale?"

Kate thought quickly. This was perhaps the opening she needed. When she spoke, her voice held an admiring candor. "You are indeed perceptive, Mrs. Farnsworth; you have found me out. In return, then, I will be frank with you."

"Ah, yes," Mrs. Farnsworth said with a dry irony. "Let us both be frank."

Kate allowed herself a small smile. ' 'I am not inclined to seek vengeance for my aunts' murders, for I too have profited. I am to inherit the Ardleigh estate. By the same token, I do not seek to sell the evidence of your guilt for money." She paused. Mrs. Farnsworth was watching her observantly, still standing, her eyes intent, her hands in the pockets of her gown. "What I do seek is participation in the Order. I find that I enjoy the association, and I wish to continue and expand it. I would like to hold the office my aunt held, that of Can-cellarius." She raised her voice slightly. "I am willing to give you the photograph and the documents, in return for that appointment and for your verbal confirmation to me that everything I have said here is true."

Mrs. Farnsworth made a condescending gesture. "Confirmation? That part, my dear Kathryn-it is Kathryn, is it not? — is easy. Of course you are quite right. I did darken my face with umber and disguise myself as a gypsy boy, after the manner of Rosalind. I did carry a basket of mushrooms, including two fatal ones, to Bishop's Keep. I knew, you see, that your Aunt Sabrina was exceedingly fond of mushrooms; she said as much the afternoon of the gathering. I did not know that your aunt had a sister, but I was prepared to silence you along with Sabrina, since I could not be sure that she had not spoken of the matter to you."

"But she was your friend!" Kate burst out, half rising. "How could you kill her?"

Mrs. Farnsworth's eyes glinted. " 'Most friendship is feigning,' " she said, " 'most loving mere folly.' "

Kate sank back. "I am sorry," she said. "Please go on."

"My motive was as you have deduced. Your aunt was intent on telling the world that Dr. Westcott forged the cipher document and the letters that authorized him to establish the Order. Some might say he was foolish in doing so, although I say in his defense that he did not intend to deceive. He only meant to enjoy for a little-quite to himself, quite in private-the pleasure of creating a fictional world in which he was given the blessing of the most ancient authorities for his

magical work. He had no intention of sharing the letters with others."

Thinking of Beryl Bardwell, Kate murmured, "But the relationship between life and art is very complex. A fiction can become quite real."

" 'And thereby hangs a tale.' " A smile ghosted across Mrs. Farnsworth's mouth. "You are quite perceptive, Miss Ardleigh. This transformation of art into life might not have happened, however, had it not been for MacGregor Mathers, to whom Dr. Westcott confided his innocent little diversion. It was Mathers who convinced him that the Order should be introduced to the public at large. It was Mathers who insisted on using the letters to lend authenticity to the effort."

"And in time Dr. Westcott began to believe in the truth of his magical fiction."

"Yes," Mrs. Farnsworth said. Her voice was colored by a regretful contempt, as if she were deriding an actor who had been taken in by his part.

' 'And Mathers now intends to reveal the fraud in order to discredit the doctor?"

Mrs. Farnsworth's mouth hardened. "Mathers is a man full of his own glory, greedy for power. From the beginning, he aimed to destroy Dr. Westcott and substitute his own project. I could not permit such a thing to happen. Quite apart from my… friendly feelings for the doctor, I have my own interests to protect. As you have quite rightly guessed, the Order is a substantial part of my livelihood and will remain so, even when I have successfully returned to the stage. At the present time, I am quite vulnerable. I do not intend to let Mathers destroy me."

"But to keep that from happening," Kate said thoughtfully, "you will have to destroy Mathers, in the same way you destroyed my aunt."

Mrs. Farnsworth raised both brows. "I commend your insight, Miss Ardleigh. I am glad to say that little business is well under way. A poison has already been sent in a certain candy in which Mr. Mathers is known to indulge immoderately: Fairley's chocolates."

Kate almost gave way to an hysterical giggle. It was a small

and ironically fateful world indeed. But Mrs. Farnsworth would not be telling her these things unless she were meant to be the next victim. She tried to think ahead to what the woman's next move might be.

Mrs. Farnsworth's eyes were frankly defiant. "There, my dear, you have it. I stand guilty of everything of which you have accused me. 'But call me not a fool, for heaven hath sent me fortune.' And with respect to your wish to hold the office your aunt has so recently vacated…" She pulled down her mouth with a somber look. ' The position must be earned through a long study of the magical arts. Regrettably, you will not have sufficient time to prepare yourself."

She pulled her hand out of her pocket. Fitted neatly into the palm was a small nickel-plated derringer.

Kate raised her eyes to Mrs. Farnsworth's face. Her brown eyes were intent, her mouth determined, her chin firm. A remarkable woman, with the will to use whatever weapon best ensured the success of her scheme. A person whom Beryl Bardwell could not help but admire. But admiration was quickly chilled by the reality of the situation. This was no time to be doing research!