Death and the Sisters by Heather Redmond

Author:Heather Redmond [Redmond, Heather]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2023-06-07T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Mary

Shelley popped his head through the bookshop door a few minutes before the church bells would announce closing time. Mary straightened from a tower of copybooks.

“Mr. Shelley,” she said formally, fighting against the tingles of awareness that raced down her spine, “how are you this afternoon?”

“Very well, thank you. I have been to Mr. Westbrook’s house and seen Eliza, who is a perfect villain.”

“I am sorry to hear it.” She poked a couple of bottles of ink into place.

He took the rag from her hand and swiped at the bottle tops. “Yes. Harriet was not at home. She was walking in Mayfair with someone. I don’t know who.”

“Who takes care of your daughter?” Mary asked.

“There is a nursery at the Westbrook home.” He smiled. “I played with Ianthe for an hour. She was not in the best mood, for she has a tooth coming in, but she chewed on a cold towel, and that seemed to help.”

“Poor little thing. It was sweet of you to sit with her.” Mary heard the St. Sepulchre bells ring. She immediately went into the front hall, untied her apron, and tossed it on the peg, then went to lock the front door.

Her father came downstairs before she could return to the bookshop, a copy of Common Sense in his hand.

“Looking for fundamental truths?” Shelley asked, coming out of the bookshop.

“Good afternoon, Shelley. I did not know you were here. We had a hanging at Newgate a couple of days ago. I was refreshing my mind on the causes of tyranny.”

“What catches your attention?” Shelley asked.

From memory, her father quoted, “ ‘To say that the constitution of England is a union of three powers reciprocally checking each other, is farcical; either the words have no meaning or they are flat contradictions.’ ”

“Absolute power,” Mary said aloud to herself.

“What?” her father asked.

“I was simply thinking that someone who kills is taking absolute power for themselves. They become like a king in that moment.”

“An absurd and worthless person to be sure,” said Shelley, who clearly knew his Paine.

“Yes, and like a king, they don’t know all the facts,” she added.

“Like whether they were killing Shelley or Campbell,” her father said.

“That note seems to have been a deliberate lure,” Shelley said. “But why did they want Campbell dead? And can we really know what goes on in the mind of a king?”

“Only by asking him. The killer isn’t a stranger,” Mary argued. “It’s someone who knows how to get into the bookshop after hours.”

Her father nodded. “Well reasoned, Mary. The house was not broken into by a thief. The street door is locked at five. They needed to know how to get past two doors, and quietly.”

“A customer,” Shelley said. “To be sure.”

“A follower of poetry, which indicates a certain class of person,” Mary added. “The key is the same for both doors, however. Only one is needed.”

Her father patted his stomach. “Come upstairs, Shelley. Mary, lock up the shop and go help Mamma.”

She nodded and went back to her duties.

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