“True,” she admitted, “it did not all turn out quite as we had intended. We had planned for it to look as if Catherine had simply died. We did not count upon Will finding the flask nor anyone thinking it was poisoned. She was supposed to toss it overboard. I can only guess that the potion must have taken effect far more quickly than she had anticipated.”
“And what of the carpenter whose instructions are to make the casket? What do you suppose shall happen when he comes to place Catherine’s shrouded corpse within it, only to find her gone?”
“He has been richly bribed,” Elizabeth said. “He shall place stones within the coffin and then seal it up, and none shall be the wiser. Then not long thereafter, he shall depart the estate and with what he has earned for aiding us in this deception, he shall be able to set himself up in trade somewhere. Thus, his future depends upon his silence. No one else shall ever know that Catherine is not dead. And all you need do to ensure that, Tuck, is keep silent and tell no one what you have learned tonight. If not for Catherine’s sake, then at least for mine. Surely, ‘tis not asking for so very much, is it?”
She gazed at him with intense entreaty in her eyes and Smythe was not unsympathetic. He also realized that what Elizabeth had come very close to admitting, without actually saying it in so many words, was that John and Catherine’s situation was very much like theirs. They were two people from different social classes, different worlds, who had been drawn together by their love for one another, in spite of all the obstacles that stood between them. It was as close as Elizabeth had ever come to openly acknowledging that there was something more than friendship between them. He felt ashamed for having suspected her of infidelity… as if fidelity were anything she even owed him. Yet, though he felt moved by her plea, he still felt torn.
“ Elizabeth… I do not know what to tell you,” he said. “ Tis not all as simple as you think. For one thing, you have entirely forgotten about Will. He has gone to London on the instructions of Sir William, and he should have returned by now. And unless Granny Meg has chosen to deceive him, which I think most unlikely considering the circumstances, then even as we speak, he may already be at the house, giving out what he has learned. If not, then he shall reveal the truth as soon as he returns.”
“Then you must stop him!” said Elizabeth.
“It may already be too late. And if not, then there is still Sir William to consider. He has taken a personal interest in this and there are few men in England with more influence or power. Aside from that, I owe him a great deal, as, indeed, do you. The problem is that everyone believes that Catherine has been murdered. The hunt for her killer shall not cease if Will and I choose to keep silent. What if it befalls that someone innocent is blamed? Should Will and I and Granny Meg and the carpenter and even you and John and Catherine keep silent while someone innocent of guilt is hanged for a crime that never was committed?”
“But that is all mere supposition!” cried Elizabeth. “No one has been blamed for Catherine’s death because no one has killed her! So what if they shall seek a murderer? They shall never find him, because he does not exist! How can someone who has done no wrong be found guilty of a crime that has never been committed?”
Smythe sighed. “Oh, Elizabeth, how little you know of the inequities of life! There are men who are thrown into prison every day for offenses no greater than stealing a mere loaf of bread. When the daughter of a rich man with powerful friends is killed-or falsely believed to have been lolled-then they shall never stop looking for a killer til they find one.”
“He is right, Elizabeth,” said Mason, who had listened to their conversation with a look of utter helplessness. “When no murderer is found, then they will find instead some hapless wretch and beat a confession out of him rather than admit that they have failed. ‘Twould not be the first time a man was hanged for a crime that he did not commit. The plan had risks enough when it entailed merely the pretense that Catherine had died. Now that they believe it to be murder, how could we ever live in peace, knowing that our happiness may have been bought at the price of an innocent man’s life?” He shook his head emphatically. “Even the possibility of that would be enough to ruin any chance of happiness that we could ever have. ‘Twould destroy us in the end.”
Elizabeth looked desperate. “So what would you have us do instead, John? Confess the fraud and have all the pains that we have gone to be for naught? And do you suppose that there would be no consequences for what we have done?”
“Your part in it need never be revealed,” John replied. “No purpose would be served in that. I cannot believe that Catherine’s father would be too severe with her. After all, a daughter he thought dead would be suddenly restored. Surely, ‘twould be welcome news that would mitigate his anger. For my own part, I would endeavor to bear whatever consequences should be meted out with manly fortitude.”
“A brave speech and well spoken,” Smythe said. “And I can find no flaw in your character for it save a slight lack o
f practical consideration. For a certainty, you shall be made the scapegoat for this entire melancholy situation, and to use your own words, no purpose would be served in that, either.”
“What would you have me do, run off like some craven coward?”
“You have already proven that you are no coward,” Smythe said. “You know that, and now I know it, Elizabeth knows it, and I am certain Catherine knew it from the start. Others may not, but does their opinion truly matter?”
“And what of my family?” Mason asked. “Would you have me run away and leave them in disgrace?”
Smythe sighed. “I see your point, and have no counter to it. But there must be some other solution to this unfortunate dilemma. Perhaps if I spoke with Sir William-”
“Wait,” Elizabeth said, suddenly. “What if it turned out that Catherine had killed herself?”
“What?” said Mason.
“Hear me out,” Elizabeth said, intently. “I have just had an idea that could provide us with the solution that we seek! What if Catherine had obtained the so-called poison knowingly, and drank it so that she might end her life rather than condemn herself to living with a man she did not love?”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Elizabeth!” said Mason. “Why would anyone believe that?”
“Why would they not believe it, if a note were found, written in Catherine’s own hand, explaining all? She could write it herself, as soon as she awoke!”
“Again, you have forgotten about Will,” said Smythe. “He shall return from London with a very different tale.”
“But if you were to intercept him afore he spoke to anyone,” Elizabeth persisted, “and told him to say it had been poison, then could it not still work?”
Smythe frowned. “What of the flask?”
“What of it? He could say that the contents had to be poured out and subjected to some sort of arcane, alchemical procedure to determine the ingredients. We could make something up. Or else we could simply say that no exact determination could be made, though it was proven to be deadly…”
“And what of Granny Meg?” asked Smythe.
“What reason would anyone have to question her about the matter?” said Elizabeth. “Will would already have brought back her report!”
“Another mad notion born of desperation!” Mason said.