17. Epilogue

What ensued after the confession was hyserics from Mrs. Bellingham, as one could have expected. Unfortunately, none of them had prepared for it, so she, too, had to be restrained for a while.

Adah refused to say anything more, and she stood in Marfleet’s grasp, looking helpless. Eventually, Mrs. Bellingham calmed down. And, with the sky’s light quickly fading, Cordelia convinced everyone that they should leave the forest before it became too dark to see.

Marfleet left first, leading the tight-mouthed Adah by one arm. Though she confessed, it was still hard for Cordelia to picture the young thing as a murderer. She had to be but sixteen, or close to it.

Mrs. Bellingham, however, refused to leave her husband, whom she hoped to be redeemable. Blackburn fully outlined the irreversibility of Mr. Bellingham’s dead-but-not-fully-dead state, and, all things considered, she took it all rather well. There was only one occasion of loud and unintelligible wailing. Though it did last an extended period of time.

At last, Blackburn convinced the widow that she should leave the golem behind. Mr. Bellingham’s mind was gone, but his body could remain, doing the bidding of the nymphs to repair their forest. It was a noble death in a way. Well, noble after-death.

Cordelia and Mrs. Bellingham headed out of the forest, both tired and sick of standing in the midst of so many trees. Blackburn stayed behind to ‘decharge’ the circle, thereby releasing the golem, an event Cordelia did not want to be present for.

“I do apologize, Miss Green, for my rudeness earlier,” said Mrs. Bellingham wearily.

Cordelia looked at the other woman side-long. “It is forgotten, Madam. Tempers run wild in the midst of tragedy. I must make an apology as well. I truly am sorry for your loss.”

The woman sniffed, but thankfully did not start to cry again. “Yes. Thank you.”

* * *

Two days had passed, and Cordelia stepped into the police office, remembering the first time she’d visited. While it was only a couple of days prior, it seemed to feel like an eternity.

A burly officer greeted her.

“Is Mr. Marfleet in?” she inquired, glancing briefly down at the newspaper in her hand.

“Is this an urgent matter, ma’am? I could—”

“No, no, I’m just here to see Mr. Marfleet. Directly.”

The man fiddled with his mustache a moment. “I believe him to be occupied. Perhaps—”

“It’s quite fine, Reuben. Send her back,” came Marfleet’s voice from just down the hall.

Cordelia gave Reuben her most pleasant smile and made her way to Marfleet’s office.

He was reclined in his chair, eyes closed despite her already knowing full well he was awake.

“Causing more trouble? I’m going to have to arrest you if you keep this up,” he said rather seriously without opening his eyes.

Cordelia scoffed and positioned herself in front of his desk. “Do you have an explanation for this?” she asked, lobbing the newspaper into his chest.

He opened his eyes with a start and picked up the paper. “What’s the matter?” he asked, skimming it.

“The story is completely false! ‘Madman of Dulwich, Lyman Notley: Killer of Mr. Samuel Bellingham’,” Cordelia quoted angrily, snatching the paper back.

Marfleet shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t think you understand my work here.”

Cordelia sighed. “Why was Adah not named? Did you not get a confession out of her?”

Marfleet’s released a long breath, then stood. “My job, Miss Green, is to solve crimes and keep the people of London safe and happy. A large part of ‘safe and happy’ includes not inducing mass panic.” As he spoke, he came out from behind his desk. At first, Cordelia thought it an intimidation tactic, but really he was just shutting his office door.

He turned back to her. “Magic incites panic. Proof of magic incites panic. I said what I needed to say,” he told her quietly.

Though that made sense logically, Cordelia still found herself scrunching up her nose in distaste. “You’re lying. What of Adah, then? Did you even get the full story?”

Marfleet nodded and put his hands into his pockets, walking near to her and leaning casually against his desk. “Have a seat, and I’ll tell you.”

Cordelia gave him a look, but sat herself down.

“Adah told me her mother’s name, and from there it wasn’t difficult to track down proof of the affair. It was years ago, when Samuel was young. Not wanting to support a child, he fled, telling no one about it.

“Apparently the mother was the one keen on magical spells. She sparked Bellingham’s interest in magic, and taught Adah some tricks as she grew. In recent years, the mother got sick and told Adah of Samuel before she died. That was when Adah sought him out and convinced him to hire her as maid. She says Bellingham agreed out of guilt.

“Then, as we learned, Samuel became keen on children, and Adah got upset. She heard he was going to Dulwich wood, followed him, and set a trap. She claimed her magic was more powerful than she believed it would be. Now, she is relocated. I found a nunnery that agreed to take her in.” Marfleet finished with a look to Cordelia, clearly expecting questions.

“Do you know what happened to Mr. Notley?” she asked.

Marfleet tilted his head, a few brown curls falling across his forehead. “Likely the same thing that happened to Mr. Bellingham; the conjuring circle killed him. Adah said she never ‘turned it off’.”

Cordelia nodded slowly. “It’s strange to hear magic spoken about as fact.”

Marfleet but laughed. “And you work for Mr. Blackburn.”

She allowed herself a tight-lipped smile. “I expect it of him.”

Marfleet removed his hands from his pockets, and rubbed his nose thoughtfully. “A question for you, Miss Green. I believe I understand how golems work, after doing some more research. However, they never seem to be malicious, not the healing ones, anyway. Why, then, would they attack you?”

Cordelia’s eyes wandered about the room. “Hm. I don’t know the workings of golems. And I don’t think—”

Her thought was cut off, thankfully, by the abrupt opening of the office door. It slammed into the wall with incredible force, shaking the few decorations mounted to it.

Blackburn all but flew into the room. “Cordelia! I’m quite glad I tracked you down. I’ve got quite an exciting new case! Up, up, up!” He looked rather disheveled, not unlike a madman.

Cordelia blinked at him.

“Sorry, Harvey,” called a voice from behind Blackburn, which Cordelia saw to be the other policeman, Reuben. “He just ran right by,” he said dejectedly, as if it happened all of the time. Perhaps it did.

Blackburn waved his hands emphatically. “Come, Cordelia! I wouldn’t want to miss anything!”

“What kind of—?” Cordelia began, standing.

“Oh, and you. Please don’t come,” Blackburn said flatly, addressing Marfleet, who was putting on his coat.

“I’m the police; I’m coming,” he replied harshly.

“One of these days, the two of you will tell me why you hate each other,” Cordelia said.

Both men gave her equally dubious looks. “No, I don’t think we will,” said Blackburn, leaving the room.

Cordelia made a rather unladylike ‘ugh’ sound, and followed him. She heard Marfleet at her heels.

Just like that, they were embarking on another case.

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