Page 24 of What Cannot Be Said

“A chocolatier’s apprentice named Gilly. Gilly Harper.”

Sebastian hunkered down beside the dead girl, his heart heavy in his chest. Her lips were gently parted, her thick dark lashes resting against the alabaster flesh of her cheeks. Judging by the bloody, slashed bodice of her plain stuff gown, she’d been stabbed, probably five or six times. He looked up at the silent magistrate. “What makes you think her death is connected to what happened out at Richmond Park?”

Sir Henry cleared his throat. “It might not be, of course. There’s only the one victim; the method of killing—stabbing, rather than shooting—is different; and the body isn’t posed in precisely the same manner. But according to the girl’s mistress, Gilly met with Lady McInnis a few days before she was killed. And the killer has taken the time to lay the girl out and cross her arms at her chest.”

Sebastian looked over to where a simply dressed woman in her forties stood beside the churchyard gates. Her plump, haggard face was blotched and wet with tears, and she had her arms wrapped around her waist, hugging herself. “That’s the girl’s mistress?”

“Yes. A Mrs.Monroe. She says Gilly left the shop before six to make a delivery and never came back.”

“Who found the body?”

“A carpenter cutting through the churchyard on his way home. He recognized her and went to tell her mistress.”

The woman was swaying back and forth, her tear-filled eyes unfocused, her voice a broken whisper as she said over and over, “That poor child. The poor, poor child.”

Pushing to his feet, Sebastian walked over to introduce himself to her, offered the woman his handkerchief, and said gently, “Do you think you could answer a few questions, Mrs.Monroe?”

She blotted her plump face with the handkerchief and nodded. “I can try, my lord.”

“I’m told Gilly was your apprentice. How long was she with you?”

Mrs.Monroe dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “Nearly six months, my lord.”

“Her parents apprenticed her to you?”

“No, my lord. She’s been an orphan for years. Came to me out of the St. Martin’s workhouse, she did.”

“How old was she?”

“Sixteen, my lord. She looks younger, I know, but I reckon it’s from all those years of not getting enough to eat. Her parents died when she was eleven.”

“Yet she’s been with you only six months? I was under the impression the workhouses typically apprenticed out their orphans much younger.”

Mrs.Monroe nodded and swallowed hard. “That they do, my lord. Gilly was with a cheesemonger before me. The woman abused the poor child horribly—beat her bloody with a nasty whip. It was Lady McInnis who convinced the authorities to take the girl away from the brute and assign her to me instead.”

Sebastian watched the bobbing line of lanterns glimmer over the crowded rows of ghostly tombstones as Lovejoy’s constables reached the far end of the churchyard and turned to work their way back. “I understand Gilly saw Lady McInnis last week?”

“She did, yes, my lord. Lady McInnis wanted to know if Gilly would mind talking to a lady who’s writing an article on the mistreatment of apprentices.”

Hero, thought Sebastian. Aloud, he said, “And did Gilly agree?”

“Yes, of course, my lord. But Lady McInnis was killed before it could all be arranged.”

Sebastian was aware of the men from the deadhouse arriving with a shell to carry the girl’s body to Gibson. He shifted his position slightly to draw the woman’s focus away from the sight. “I understand Gilly left your shop around six?”

The chocolatier nodded. “She was supposed to take a tray of dipped fresh fruit to the Dowager Countess of Schomberg. But she never came back. And then around seven, the Dowager’s cook sent one of their footmen to the shop, wanting to know why they hadn’t received the delivery.” A tear rolled down the woman’s cheek, and she swiped at it with the handkerchief. “I was that put out with Gilly for going off like that and not doing what she was supposed to be doing. And here the poor child was lying dead the whole time—” Her voice cracked, and she pressed her trembling lips together and mutely shook her head.

Sebastian said, “Do you have any idea who might have done this to her?”

“No,” sobbed the woman. “Who would want to kill a sweet little girl like Gilly?”

“Did she have a beau? Or perhaps someone who was interested in her even if she wasn’t interested in him?”

The woman sucked in a deep, steadying breath. “No. Can’t say she was really interested in boys, my lord. She was very young for her age, you see—and I don’t mean only in size.”

The men from the deadhouse were lifting the girl into their shell now. Sebastian said, “When Gilly was talking to Lady McInnis last week, were you with them?”

“Only part of the time, my lord. I was mainly minding the shop, you see.”

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