Page 79 of Murder on Black Swan Lane

“I assure you, I have never been more deadly serious.”

“How fitting,” he retorted. “Because you have certainly put yourself in deadly peril with that devil-cursed print.”

“I am aware of that.”

“Perhaps you didn’t look closely enough at Holworthy’s mutilated corpse.” Wrexford was deliberately harsh. “It was not a pretty ending.”

Charlotte didn’t blanche. “You forget, sir, that I watched my husband suffer through days of physical agony and half-mad delusions. So spare me the lectures on not understanding what I am up against. Not only is it patronizing, but it’s also insulting. Whatever you think of me, I am not a fool.”

Damnation. In his righteous anger, he had forgotten about that. “You’re right, it was,” he admitted. “I’m sorry.”

She shrugged off the apology. “We’ve more important things to talk about. I’ve made a very important discovery—”

“So have I,” he interjected. “However, as a gentleman, I shall allow ladies to go first.”

“I’m not a lady, which, as you well know, is a distinction reserved for members of your upper class. I’m merely an ordinary woman.”

“Artistic license. Surely I may be granted the same bending of the rules as you are,” he replied. “Besides, the boys call you m’lady, so I am simply following precedent.”

“Let us not waste time in idle chatter,” chided Charlotte. She looked more agitated than the momentary banter merited. But then, he reminded himself, there was good reason for her nerves to be on edge.

He took a seat. “I’m listening.”

“I think I’ve figured out what the sketch on Drummond’s hand means.” Charlotte moved to her desk and scooped up several books, which she carried back to the table. “I spent hours looking at the various engravings and reading the explanations of the iconography, and slowly began to understand the meaning of the visual representations.”

She paused to open up one of the books and spin it around to face him. “See this one here?”

“The dragon?” asked Wrexford.

“Yes.” Charlotte had bookmarks in the other volumes and flipped to the pages. “Now look at these illustrations. What do you notice?”

He studied them carefully. “There are certain similarities in detail despite the different drawing styles. The tail is always curled in the same design, the wings slant at the same angle, the tongue has three points. . . .”

“Precisely!” Paper cracked as she smoothed out the page from Henning’s mortuary notebook. “Now, look again at the mark you copied from Drummond’s palm.”

It took some imagination, but Wrexford saw why she sounded excited. “By Jove, you have a falcon’s eye.” He lifted his eyes to meet hers. “Now, if only we knew what it meant.”

A smile curled on her lips. “In alchemy, dragon is a code word for mercury.”

The impact of the revelation took a moment to sink in. “Well done, Mrs. Sloane. A brilliant bit of sleuthing,” he murmured. “It would seem that art can indeed be a powerful tool in science.”

Was that a faint blush stealing to her cheeks? Or merely a reflection of light off the cover of the oxblood-colored leather binding.

“Now it’s your turn, milord,” she said, closing the books and arranging them into a neat stack. “What discovery have you made?”

* * *

Charlotte watched Wrexford recross his legs, a habit she had noted meant he was about to say something he considered important.

“Actually, I’ve made a number of them. I’ll start with books, too. My trip to Canaday’s estate in Kent proved useful in several regards. I obtained access to the library and learned what book matched the catalogue number you found in Holworthy’s hand.” He went on to explain about his search, the Newton manuscript, and the revelation of the three other missing books.

“Alchemy.” Charlotte said the word very softly and yet its echo seemed to transmute itself into a booming sound that filled the room. She waited a moment, and then added, “It’s clear it’s at the heart of the murders. But how and why still isn’t—”

“Patience, Mrs. Sloane.” Wrexford held up a hand. “I haven’t finished.”

She sat back.

“Yet another revelation—uncovered by a friend of mine—is that Canaday and Holworthy are cousins, and that the baron was lying about what books the reverend had borrowed from him. In truth, knowing that Canaday was in desperate need of money, Holworthy had purchased the four alchemy books for a large sum of money, but reneged on making the last payment.”