“Child, what have you done that you would invoke sanctuary?”
The rest of them, Cedric, Charlotte, Plum, Ly, and Violante, arrived just in time to see Lucy throw herself to her knees, her white face upturned to my father’s.
“My lord, I claim sanctuary. You cannot take me for murder. Under the law I am given forty days. You cannot take me,” she repeated. There was a gasp from the doorway, and I glanced up to see that Emma had arrived, pushing past the others to witness her sister’s declaration.
Father reached out to Lucy, but she drew back in terror, her eyes rimmed in white. Suddenly, she rose and ran to the wall, wrapping her fingers about the hideous iron ring, clutching it like a drowning woman. Her hair had come loose from its pins, and she bore a striking resemblance to another Lucy, the mad, bloodstained Bride of Lammermoor.
At that moment pandemonium broke loose. Emma fell into a swoon. Cedric caught her, cursing. Violante began to shriek; Plum pushed Ly who supported her and urged her away. Henry Ludlow was deathly pale, but maintained his composure. Charlotte went very white to the lips, and seemed to stagger a little. Plum reached out to steady her, his expression grim.
I still stood clutching Brisbane’s coat, but I made no move either to return it to him or give it to Lucy. Portia went to Lucy and put her hand on the poor girl’s shoulder, shaking her a little.
“Lucy, what are you saying? You could not have killed Mr. Snow.”
Father flicked his eyes toward Brisbane. Lucy shook off Portia’s hand and tightened her grasp on the sanctuary ring. “I invoke the right of sanctuary. I cannot be compelled to leave this place, by force or persuasion. I am protected by God and the law.”
Brisbane looked incredulous, but to my amazement, Father held up his hand. “You have my word, Lucy. You have invoked sanctuary and sanctuary you shall have. We shall not remove you.”
I could hear Brisbane’s jaw grinding from where I stood, but he did not speak. Sanctuary laws had been repealed under the Stuarts. The law had every authority to remove her from the chapel and interrogate her given the circumstances. But Father clearly had his own reasons for acquiescing to Lucy’s bizarre request, reasons to which none of us would be privy until Father had a mind to tell us. In the meantime, there was much to be done.
First, Father ordered Sir Cedric to take Emma and Charlotte to the lesser drawing room. Ly had already removed Violante, probably to the drawing room as well. Emma had revived from her swoon, but she was frightfully pale. Charlotte had recovered herself and stood a trifle closer to Plum than propriety permitted. His hand hovered at her elbow, ready to support her should she have need of him. Sir Cedric, his ruddy face drained of colour, looked back for a long, lingering moment at Lucy, his expression anguished. Then he seemed to fold in on himself, his shoulders sagging as he turned and left the chapel, his mouth working furiously though he said nothing. Father gave Portia a significant glance, and she accompanied them. I had no doubt by the time everyone was settled in the drawing room, she would have poked up the fire and rung for brandy. Portia was not a particularly nurturing sort of person, but she was very efficient in a crisis.
Wordlessly, Brisbane took his coat out of my hands and draped it around Lucy’s shoulders. She slumped against the cold stone wall, but in spite of Father’s reassurances, she would not relinquish her hold on the ring.
Brisbane and Father went to study the body, and I stepped near, shielding Lucy from the sight of it.
“We must remove the body, my lord,” Brisbane saidsotto voce.“If you mean to keep her here—”
“I know you do not approve, my boy. But you will simply have to trust me. I must have a care here.”
The tension in Brisbane did not ease, but he relented. “If you wish, my lord,” he said finally, the syllables clipped. “But the body must be attended to. And the candelabrum.”
Father’s brows rose a little. “Ah. Is that what it was? I suppose you have put the weapon aside for safekeeping?”
“Just behind the altar,” I whispered. “I took care not to disturb the, erm, matter on the base of it.”
Father nodded. “Julia, my dear, will you fetch Aquinas? Tell him what has happened here and that Brisbane and I will require his assistance. I want him to prepare a suitable resting place in one of the offices.” He brightened a little. “The vegetable larder, you think?”
I felt a lurch in my stomach and I suddenly regretted the second serving of duck I had eaten at dinner. “I hardly think so, Father. The food…”
“Ah, quite right. Any room without a fire will suffice. They are all cold enough to serve our purpose. Tell him to use his best judgement. And we shall require a footman, I suppose, to help us shift the body.”
Brisbane was regarding my father with an approving glance. His eyes moved to Lucy, and Father, taking his meaning, nodded. “Someone must sit with Lucy. She should not be left here alone. And tell Aquinas we will require a sturdy footman to keep watch outside the door.
I would not have her try to leave us. Also, a sheet for poor Mr. Snow, I think. We may give him that dignity at least.”
“What of Uncle Fly? He must be told, and it would be horrid for him to learn of this from the servants. You know how they gossip.”
Father stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I will send a note. Best wait until morning. No point in rousing his entire household this time of night.”
To my surprise, Brisbane spoke up. “I will go myself, if you like.”
Under other circumstances, I might have thought it curious Brisbane had volunteered to deliver the note instead of asking a footman, but I knew him better than that. He wanted a chance to play the sleuthhound around before news of the murder spread. Snow had boarded with Uncle Fly, and it was entirely possible his staff could shed some light on why my cousin would have found it necessary to murder him. Lucy herself seemed in no condition to speak of it. She kept her grip on the ring, eyes closed, keening softly.
I took one last look at the battered remains of Lucian Snow and left the chapel.
I met Aquinas just outside the door and blessed Portia’s efficiency in sending him along.
“Aquinas, I am afraid the Reverend Mr. Snow has died suddenly.”