Death in Kew Gardens Read online

  I kept my expression neutral, but my heart sped at her words. Her guesses struck too close to home.

  “I am certain Mrs. Bywater would arrange for you to have a day and a half if you ask her,” I said. “Now, if you will excuse me.”

  I had to move past Mrs. Daley to reach the back stairs so I could ascend to my chamber to change my clothing. I did not want to wear my drab gray cook’s uniform to visit my daughter.

  Mrs. Daley stepped aside without fuss, but I felt her watch me as I went.

  Mr. Davis announced to her, “The wine merchant is arriving today. I see that you slashed my budget for port, and that will not do.”

  “What will do, Mr. Davis, is running this house efficiently,” Mrs. Daley returned. “Mrs. Bywater has instructed me so. Far too much is spent on wine and spirits, she says.”

  Mr. Bywater liked his port, so that would be a short argument between man and wife.

  I left Mr. Davis and Mrs. Daley to haggle, and their voices carried up the enclosed back stairs as I made for my bedchamber. When I descended again, the doors to both housekeeper’s parlor and butler’s pantry were shut tight, Tess looking amused.

  “You go on,” she told me. “Don’t you worry. Mr. Davis and me will keep the dragon at bay.”

  I did not linger to admonish her.

  Once on the street, hurrying for an omnibus, my cares fell away. I no longer worried about Mrs. Daley’s intrusiveness or Tess with the soup, or even the murder next door.

  I was on my way to see my daughter, and my heart was light.

  “What shall we do today, Mum?” eleven-year-old Grace asked me after we’d embraced and I’d inquired about her lessons and the Millburns’ children—my dear friends Mr. and Mrs. Millburn looked after Grace for me.

  “I thought a journey to Richmond,” I said. “On the train. Would you like that? I have a mind to visit Kew Gardens.”

  6

  The train cost a bit more than I wanted to pay, and I disliked riding trains underground, but my curiosity was too great, and soon we were chugging in and out of tunnels on the Metropolitan Railway. Grace enjoyed the ride, pressing her face to the window to catch sight of the stations glowing through the darkness.

  After about an hour, we descended at the station at Kew Gardens, in the light of day once more.

  The Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew were not the same as the parks and tucked-away gardens in London, green refuges from the city. Kew was set aside for botanists and men of scholarship who collected and studied plants from around the world.

  The botany of the British Empire had been harvested and brought bit by bit to this corner of England, to be put into the huge glass greenhouses. It cost a fee to enter those greenhouses, though one could stroll the park when the gates were open.

  I had worked in nearby Richmond for a time last winter and liked the town with its narrow lanes, leafy trees, and the Thames snaking past through green banks. The river here was far less stinking, and I’d had many a pleasant walk along it.

  I had enjoyed the park at Kew Gardens when I had a day to myself, and I’d brought Grace here once or twice for relief from the unhealthy air of London.

  From the lane outside the gardens, all one could see were walls with trees towering over them. The gardens had been part of the monarch’s residences long ago, but given over to scientific studies in the middle of the last century, open to the rest of us in the middle of this one.

  Gates pierced the wall at intervals, all shut at the moment. We glanced through one to see wide parkland, stands of trees, and a corner of the enormous structure called the Palm House, a massive greenhouse that contained, as the name implied, palm trees and other tropical plants. A few people wandered the park, but not many were about on a Monday afternoon.

  “It’s ever so beautiful,” Grace said beside me. “I liked visiting when you lived here.”

  “I liked it too,” I admitted. I had left the post because the family had moved to the Lake District. They had asked me to accompany them, but I refused to go so far from Grace.

  I had learned, during my visits, that Kew had its own constabulary. The park was so large and some plants so valuable it had to be constantly guarded. That fact came back to me as a constable peered through a gate and noticed us.

  “Good afternoon, missus,” he said politely, but he gave me a sharp eye, as though checking me for bags in which to stash purloined plants. “A fine day.”

  “It is indeed,” I answered. “A relief from the rain we’ve been having.”

  He continued to watch me, probably alert for covert pruning shears and trowels.

  “A lovely view.” I gestured at the Palm House and the greenery around it. “I was showing my daughter.”

  The constable’s eyes narrowed, and I took Grace’s hand, preparing to beat a hasty retreat. I had no idea what he could arrest us for—it was not against the law to walk down a street or look into a public park.

  “Good day to you, sir,” I said, and led Grace away.

  I heard the rattle of a lock and then the creak of the gate as it opened. “Oi!” the constable called. “Might you be Mrs. Holloway?”

  I turned back, startled. “I might be.”

  The constable stepped out into the lane, one hand on the open gate. “Then come in here with me.”

  I remained where I stood. “Whatever for? Are you arresting me for peering through a gate?”

  The constable looked amused. “Not arresting you, missus. Don’t you want to come inside?”

  “Can we, Mum?” Grace asked in eagerness.

  She was not a spoiled girl, and never asked for much. She understood, even at her young age, that there was not much to be had. I hated to disappoint her.

  Without answering, I walked back to the constable, my hand firmly around Grace’s.

  “Of course,” I said to the young man. “If you promise to let us out again.”

  He grinned. “That’s not up to me. I’ll let him sort it out.”

  I did not like the sound of that, but I’d already stepped through the gate. The constable closed it behind us, locking it with a key.

  I intensely disliked being locked in anywhere, but I admitted that this was a glorious prison. The park spread out before us, a sea of grass studded with trees. Some walks were neat and groomed, others overgrown. A few steps from the gate let me see the Palm House in all its glory rising from the green.

  To my left I glimpsed another vast glass building, the Temperate House, which looked uncannily like an ordinary manor house, but with walls and ceilings of glass. I could see the tops of trees inside. Beyond the Temperate House, just visible, was the spire of the famous pagoda.

  “This way.” The constable set off with a vigorous stride toward the Palm House.

  The Palm House was very much a greenhouse, with a towering rounded roof, its iron girders supporting thick panes of glass. Bedding plants in neat, ordered rows led to its front door.

  A man in muddy boots, dusty breeches, and a tattered coat and hat opened the door of the Palm House. He carried a box of gardening tools and a spade.

  “Well?” he asked me. “Will you come in?”

  I kept hold of Grace’s hand but hurried into the wonder of the Palm House, afraid someone would stop us at any moment.

  The gardener, who naturally was Daniel, nodded to the constable. “Thank you, sir,” he said. The constable touched his fingers to his helmet and closed the door behind us.

  I stepped into an amazing world.

  The wind outside had been brisk, but it died into the warmth of the tropics. The enormous ceiling let in plenty of light, which flooded the profusion of trees and leafy plants lining the floor. These plants lived in generous pots, and the humid air clung to giant palm fronds, brilliant flowers, and my skin.

  I opened my coat, seeking relief, and Grace fanned her hand in front
of her face.

  Daniel laid down his gardening box and stripped off his thick gloves. “What do you think, young lady?” he asked Grace.

  Grace stared about, enraptured. “It is beautiful, sir.”

  The Millburns and I were bringing up Grace to be polite, without the strictness of some families who did not allow their children even to speak. She held tightly to my hand but looked about without fear, taking in the grandeur without shrinking from it.

  “It is indeed,” Daniel said. “These particular palms come all the way from Madagascar. Do you know where that is?”

  Grace looked surprised, as though wondering why he did not know. “It is a large island in the Indian Ocean, on the east coast of Africa.”

  “Exactly,” Daniel said. “Well done.”

  Daniel knew full well that Grace had a good grasp of geography, because I told him everything about her. He was giving her the opportunity to show off.

  “Grace,” I said. “This is my friend Mr. McAdam. Mr. McAdam, my daughter, Grace.”

  “How do you do?” Daniel held out a hand to her.

  Grace took it and bobbed a quick curtsy. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”

  This was the first time Daniel and Grace had come face-to-face, though I’d conveyed to each much about the other. I held my breath as I watched the meeting of my daughter and the man who had become a dear friend.

  I could not imagine anyone not taking to Daniel, but Grace was no fool. If she disapproved of him . . . Well, I would have to tell Daniel he did not pass muster.

  Grace, my little charmer, smiled up at him. “You are the Mr. McAdam who has adventures with Mr. Thanos and Lady Cynthia and my mum.”

  “I am indeed,” Daniel answered. “Your mum is instrumental in these adventures. We would come to grief without her.”

  “She pretends she does not do much, but I know it isn’t so,” Grace said.

  “You are correct.” Daniel nodded gravely.

  “Goodness, the pair of you talk such nonsense.” I gave them an admonishing look, but I was much relieved. I could see they had taken to each other. “I believe you have begun a new post, Mr. McAdam. As what? A gardener? Or a botanist?”

  “Gardener’s assistant,” Daniel said. “The botanists will hardly let me near their priceless specimens to muck them up with my incompetence. I am in training.”

  “Are they priceless?” I asked.

  “As any jewel.” Daniel became serious. “Explorers bring back cuttings, seedlings, and seeds from every corner of the Empire. Here they cultivate them, study them, experiment with them, stick them into pots, and let them grow happily under this roof.” He waved his arm to take in the towering palms that rose to the ceiling, I’d say sixty feet or so above us.

  I was entranced. I’d seen plenty of potted palms decorating halls and drawing rooms of the houses in which I’d worked, and orchids and the like in their back gardens. Sir Jacob’s garden held plants I’d never encountered before, but this was breathtaking.

  It was so intensely green I began to wonder if I’d ever seen any other color. The contrast to the gray brick world of London, coated in coal dust, was stark.

  “The Temperate House is even larger,” Daniel said. “It contains trees and flowering plants from as many places as this one does, but from cooler climes. For instance, from the foothills of the Himalayas, and the tea-growing regions of China.”

  Grace absorbed all this, her mind quick. As she looked about, enchanted, I said in a low voice to Daniel, “You were confident I’d come. You told the constable to look out for me.”

  “I did.” Daniel gave me a nod. “I had thought it would take you a few more days to make the journey, but I knew you could not resist. One of the constables is a friend of mine, and I asked him to look for a curious young woman milling near the gates, dark haired and pretty, probably wearing a black straw hat with feathers, and most likely with her daughter.”

  “I see.” I tried to decide whether I was flattered by this description. “Can you tell me what you have discovered?”

  “Not very much, but I only started the post this morning.” Daniel rested his boot on a nearby rock. “Sir Jacob did indeed return from his travels with many plants, carefully sealed into Wardian cases.”

  I knew what those were—miniature greenhouses on stands that decorated drawing rooms as much as potted palms did. These cases, named for Nathaniel Ward, the gentleman botanist who’d invented them, provided the perfect atmosphere for the plants. The water inside, warmed by the sun, filmed on the glass and then fell like rain, to be evaporated onto the glass again. A maid had only to dust the outside and never worry about watering the plants inside.

  “Did he bring back orchids?” I asked. Orchids were costly, and collectors obsessed with them could hoard them as greedily as a miser hoarded gold.

  “He did,” Daniel answered. “As well as a good many temperate plants from the mountains of China. Some are in his garden at home, but most are here. He was rather a hero, according to Mr. Chancellor.”

  “So you have already managed to speak to your quarry.”

  “Of course. It was he who hired me on.”

  I could not be amazed. Daniel was expert at jumping directly to the heart of the problem.

  “Is he here?” I asked.

  Daniel steered me to a narrow path and pointed down the walkway. Grace, who had let go of my hand, skipped to catch up to us.

  At the far end of the greenhouse, small in the distance, was a man with a shaggy brown beard and a sturdy body, a notebook in his hands. He wore breeches rather than trousers, and boots that ended at midcalf.

  “I saw him,” I whispered. “Yesterday. Rooting about the Harknesses’ garden. He took something.”

  Daniel’s expression did not change except for a flick of brows. “Interesting. Do you know what it was?”

  “Lady Cynthia and I had a peek, but I don’t know one shrub from another. Lady Cynthia said she’d show a cutting from the plant to Mr. Thanos.”

  “Wise. If Thanos doesn’t recognize it, he’ll know exactly where to look it up.”

  “That is what I surmised.”

  “Hmm.” Daniel gazed at Chancellor, who appeared to be doing nothing more than staring at a plant. Once in a while, he made a mark in his notebook.

  “What if Mr. Chancellor knew the value of a plant in Sir Jacob’s garden?” I asked in a quiet voice. “And Sir Jacob refused to give it to him?”

  “He might steal it—or a cutting of it,” Daniel answered. “But would he have—?” He broke off, glancing at Grace, who was listening avidly. “Could he not simply wait until Sir Jacob went out of the house?”

  Instead of murdering the man, he meant. But who knew what made one gentleman stick a knife into another? A court judge would only need to know for certain the man had stabbed Sir Jacob to death in order to convict him. Why he’d done so would be fodder for the newspapers.

  If I were to help Mr. Li, I would have to prove for certain he did not wield the knife that killed Sir Jacob. The whys and wherefores, as Lady Cynthia called them, would make no difference.

  “He must have been near the house that night,” I said, indicating Mr. Chancellor, “if he saw Mr. Li lurking as he claims. You must get him to tell you if he was present.”

  “I am trying, my dear Kat. I have to work my way around to it.”

  “I understand, but you must tell me as soon as you know.”

  Daniel looked exasperated, and I did not blame him, but before he could answer, Mr. Chancellor glanced our way. “McAdam!” he bellowed.

  “My master calls.” Daniel slid on his gloves. “Do not worry. I will pry plenty out of him before the day is over. Wander the Palm House as much as you like—I arranged it. Save me a slice of your excellent seedcake in return.”

  He pressed my hand, winked at Grace, and moved at a smooth t
rot toward Mr. Chancellor.

  “I haven’t made any seedcake, ridiculous man.” My words died in the humid air.

  Grace watched Daniel go then looked eagerly up at me. “What has happened, Mum? Is it another adventure?”

  “Yes, but we cannot speak of it here.” I waved my hand at the stunning plants under the vast glass arch. “Let’s have a look around.”

  I led her down the deserted walks, determined to enjoy our afternoon and ponder no more about the murder.

  We found many delights—flowers as big as our heads, orchids growing up the sides of trees, palms so large they bent with their own weight. I’d read somewhere that one of the trees here had been brought to Kew a hundred years ago.

  Explorers had carried all these here, whether commissioned to or of their own volition. Some men searched the world for gold or jewels, but these men had seen the value in nature. I admired the gentlemen—and ladies too—who ran all over the globe, risking their necks to harvest unique plants for our pleasure and instruction.

  I sometimes thought I might like to be an explorer myself, but I knew they must lead very uncomfortable existences. Sleeping in a small tent in a rainforest sounds romantic when one is reading about it in a snug, dry bed before a fire. The reality, I imagined, would be full of stinging insects, dangerous animals, and natives resentful of one’s presence.

  “I’m afraid I would not make a very good explorer,” I said. “I like to sleep indoors, out of the rain and the night.”

  “Mr. Millburn says there are hotels now in foreign parts, run by English people,” Grace informed me. “We could go to Egypt.”

  “Only when we are very rich,” I answered with a laugh.

  “Is Mr. McAdam very rich? You could marry him, and we could go.”

  I squeezed her hand playfully. “I see, minx. You wish me to marry so you can visit a luxurious hotel. I do not believe Daniel is rich, so you will have to put that idea out of your head. He grubs for a living as I do.”