by Bettie Jane
Julia fought the urge to sick up all over the carpet of her father’s parlor. He called her my love? She’d been friendly enough, but also distant enough, to keep his attention so her parents would leave her be and to ensure that he wouldn’t get the wrong idea. Clearly she’d underestimated his fondness for her.
“I…I don’t know what to say.” She was really quite speechless, unable to think how she’d get out of this mess. Even if she’d been of the mind to accept his proposal, she was occupied up to her eyelids between the paper and the Lady Withers story, Jimmie’s wrongful arrest, and Oscar’s disappearance. Not that Sidney would know about her friends’ situations.
“Say yes and I’ll pour you a drink to celebrate then.”
Just like that and in the middle of the night? He was a kind enough fellow and easy enough on the eyes, even a sufficient dancer; clearly, though, he didn’t know her at all if he thought after a few evenings of relatively stiff courtship she’d agree to marry him simply because he asked.
She stood abruptly, committed to putting an end to this. The day had been long and she was exhausted.
“Let me offer my regrets, Mr. Guinness. This is not a good time for me to consider your proposal. I’m working on preparing an article for the paper regarding Lady Withers’ murder, and my dear friend has gone missing, while another friend—as you’ve just heard—has been arrested for Lady Withers’ murder. I’m afraid I’ve been through quite a lot today and need to retire to my rooms. Your offer is, of course, very thoughtful, but as you can see this is simply not a time when I can properly consider it.”
He stood when she stood and as her words met his ears, his posture stiffened and his eyebrows knit together in a display of either confusion or possibly frustration. She couldn’t be sure which; neither did she care to find out.
She didn’t give him a chance to reply. It would be easier for everyone that way.
“Good evening, Mr. Guinness. Thank you again for dinner this evening. It was quite lovely.”
She turned toward her father, noting that his face was quickly becoming the color of a lobster. Hopefully somewhere in the midst of his anger at her response was a modicum of embarrassment for entertaining a middle of the night proposal. Her father had always been odd, but even for him, this was quite bizarre.
“Goodnight.”
Then she turned tail and practically ran from the parlor. Her father wouldn’t chase her down as long a guest was here to be attended. She’d have to face his wrath tomorrow, and her ears already burned from the lecture she would receive, but that was future Julia’s problem. The Julia of the present moment wanted only a bed and a good sleep.
She was certain tomorrow would prove as taxing as today and yesterday had been. Not the least of which would be avoiding her father at all costs. She simply didn’t have the energy to deal with the certain rebuke that would happen for brushing off Mr. Guinness. She readied for bed on her own, not wanting to disturb her Wendy. At the thought of her exhaustion, a problem she’d been trying to avoid thinking about sprung into her mind.
Frankie Sutton, according to Jimmie, had possession of Eliza’s marquise diamond ring. He couldn’t possibly have murdered Lady Eliza, could he have? It would be quite the pickle if the only way she could prove Jimmie’s innocence was by turning in another of her friends.
When she finally found sleep that night, it was a restless one tormented with alternating nightmares of Frankie and Jimmie strangling her and Opal running through the night in her dressing gown calling for Oscar, who never appeared.
______
Sunday Morning
Goodall Residence, Mayfair
London
Julia was up, dressed, and gone before dawn. Running on only a few hours sleep, she’d stopped by the Goodalls to check on Opal and see if Oscar had returned in the middle of the night.
It was much too early to call on the Goodall house in the typical fashion so Julia relied on a girlhood tradition when she and Opal used to sneak into each other’s homes and hide from their parents. The door on the side of the home that provided access to the root cellar was always unlocked, and there was a secret entrance into the kitchen from the root cellar that nobody had used for years. Opal, Oscar, Jimmie, and Julia had accidentally discovered it one summer day when they were playing. They’d taken great care to ensure the secret access to the kitchen was never discovered by Opal’s parents.
Julia slunk around the side of the house until she found the root cellar door and pulled on it, hoping it would open easily for her. It was still unlocked and Julie breathed a sigh of relief. She made her way through the dark root cellar using her hands to guide her through the familiar space and smiled through the black of the morning when her hands found purchase on the old ladder that gave access to the kitchen. When they were younger, Oscar had made sure to keep the hinges of the door to the kitchen greased so they could sneak in and out without notice. Apparently, he’d kept up the job because the hatch opened silently. Julia climbed out of the hatch door and into the butler’s pantry where the access let out. Once out, she straightened the rug that covered the hatch, keeping it hidden in plain sight all these years.
She thought fondly of all the times she’d used this access with Oscar and Opal and her eyes welled with tears of worry for the pair of siblings. Would Oscar be found? If not, what would become of Opal? The two had been inseparable since childhood.
Dry your eyes girl. There’s work to be done.
She turned her attention to the task at hand, allowing herself no room to feel the panic that was starting to press in on the edges of her life. Julia tip-toed through the massive house and up the stairs to Opal’s room. When she peeked in she saw that Mattie, Opal, and Edith had all fallen asleep on Opal’s enormous bed. It was good they slept.
Next, she made her way to Oscar’s room, just down the hall from Opal’s. Not wanting to wake anyone, she didn’t knock but opened the door slowly and peeked in. Her heart sunk when she saw Oscar’s made bed, which meant he was still missing.
She considered waking Mattie or Edith but ultimately decided to let them sleep. It was time for her to pay another visit to Philip Withers. She snuck back out of Opal’s house, once again using the root cellar, and shivered when she met the chilly, early November morning air.
I’m coming for you, Philip Withers.
She marched through the deserted streets of Mayfair, an army of one, prepared to do battle with Lady Eliza’s murderer. Today was the day she’d get to the bottom of the murder and Oscar’s disappearance. She thought fondly of Jimmie, her partner in crime, and wished he were there with her.
Soon, Jimmie. Don’t worry.
The sun was rising when Julia approached the gentleman’s club where Philip Withers took his Sunday breakfast more often than not. Julia knew from overhearing her father on multiple occasions that Philip manufactured club business in order to avoid Sunday services. Her father always spoke about it with disdain in his voice, but Julia suspected that he was secretly jealous. Her own absence from church meetings today would not go unnoticed by her parents. They could simply add it to the tally of offenses for which to berate her.
She strode up to the entrance of the club and was greeted by the doorman who wore a crisp black uniform and sour face.
“Hello, Miss. Can I help you?”
“No, thank you.”
She tried to pass, not wanting to share the reason for the visit and alert Philip Withers, giving him a chance to avoid her questions. The doorman stepped in front of her, blocking her passage.
“This is a gentleman’s club. For men only, you see. No women allowed.”
“This is a professional visit. I’m not here to partake in the advantages of membership. My name is Julia Barlow and I’m with the World News. I’m here to interview Lord Philip Withers.”
“No women allowed. No press either.”
A professional approach wasn’t working so she tried another tactic.
“Excuse me, kind sir,
but I mean no harm to Lord Withers. I think it is quite lovely that you protect the privacy of your members, and I assure you I’ll not be a bother to anyone. Just a quick peek? Please?”
“No women allowed. Shall I call the constable then or will you go in peace?”
Julia gathered her wits and tried frantically to think of a new strategy. Before she could think of one, she heard a familiar voice speak from behind her.
“I don’t think it’s necessary to call the constable, my good man. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Inspector Gibbs. I’m here, along with my assistant, Miss Julia Barlow, to interview Philip Withers.”
Julia stood utterly speechless as Gibbs flashed his identification and the doorman stepped aside.
“Of course, Inspector. Miss.”
He tipped his hat as Julia passed as she followed closely on the heels of Inspector Gibbs. She was both grateful that he got her inside and furious that a male escort was necessary in the first place. These elite men’s clubs were a source of irritation for Julia.
No women allowed, she thought as she hurried to keep up with Gibbs. Pompous, arrogant, men.
Gibbs stopped at the end of the hallway before entering what looked like a large sitting area and turned to address Julia.
“Miss Barlow. It’s lovely to see you again this morning. You are up and about early. How is your friend, Opal?”
“She’s resting, thank you for asking…and thank you for your assistance with the doorman.”
“My pleasure. I’ve never been a fan of the gentleman’s club. A remnant of the old aristocracies and their complete lack of awareness of the rest of the world.”
Julia smiled. “I quite agree with you, Inspector. What brings you here then? You aren’t really here to interview Philip Withers are you?”
“I am, in fact. I will allow you to accompany me for the interview and even give you the information you need for your story—that is why you are here? I overheard you announce your position with the World News.”
“I am with the paper, as I mentioned last night in our first meeting, and I will be writing a story, but I’m here for personal reasons. I believe Philip Withers killed his wife and framed Jimmie for it, and I intend to prove it. I also believe he is behind the disappearance of Oscar, and I intend to find him.”
“I see.” His face was kind and his voice was sincere, but there was something about him that made Julia nervous.
“Since these buffoons aren’t likely to let me get very far, would you allow me to interview him alongside you? I know him, a little, and I could tell yesterday when I spoke with him that he was quite aware of his wife’s pregnancy, although he tried to deny it. I’m sure I could be of assistance interpreting his answers. If you’d like.”
Deferring to the Inspector wasn’t at all like her to do, but there was something about him that left her feeling a bit more relaxed than she did with most men.
“That would be fine with me, but you must promise not to print anything I say is off limits. Do we have a deal?”
Julia extended her hand, and they shook on it. “Yes, Inspector. We have a deal.”
In the end, all the effort to get inside and negotiate her attendance for the interview was for not because Philip Withers was not there. Whether he’d been alerted of their presence or was never there to begin with, Julia couldn’t be sure.
She and the Inspector left the club together, and they stood somewhat awkwardly on the front steps outside, neither of them speaking or making a move to part company.
“I’d be interested in speaking with you about what you saw the night of the murder and any information you’ve discovered since if you would be amenable to that. Over tea, perhaps? I know a cafe just near here. A pub would be preferable, but it’s only eight in the morning.”
He spoke rather quickly, as if nervous, and a little color rose to his cheeks.
“That would be lovely, Inspector. Perhaps you would be willing to share some of what you know, as well?”
“Off the record?”
“Of course. I’ll only print what you give strict approval for.”
“Then it appears we’ve struck yet another bargain, Miss Barlow.”
They shook again, this time their hands lingering just a bit longer than what would be appropriate for a handshake.
She flashed a smile at him and said, “Call me Julia.”
“Okay, Julia,” he said, letting go of her hand. “I’d very much like to know why you are so convinced Philip Withers killed his wife.”
They settled down over tea and pastries, and Inspector Gibbs got right down to business.
“Tell me your theory about Philip. Assume that I likely agree with your suspicions myself. Hold nothing back.”
Julia reveled in the company of a man who happened to value her opinion. Jimmie was also like that. If Inspector Gibbs hadn’t been on the other side of an Inspector badge, she might have liked him instantly. As it was, he was still growing on her.
“It’s common knowledge that Philip has a quite a temper. What I know from my own sources is that he’s assaulted his wife on more than one occasion.”
“Who is your source?”
“I won’t reveal my sources, Inspector.”
“Fair enough. Go on.”
“We know from those assaults that he has a disposition to do physical harm to his wife. We also know that she was pregnant and I suspect, but have not yet confirmed the information I received, that Philip Withers is unable to have children. An injury from the war, I believe.”
“How do you know for certain she was pregnant?”
She raised her eyebrow and then winked at him over her tea.
Good lord, Julia. Quit flirting with the man.
“Let me guess. Your source?”
“You have guessed correctly, Inspector. Additionally, Philip held back the information that his wife was pregnant from the police.”
“Why would you say that?”
“When I mentioned it yesterday in the station house, I could tell that you didn’t know.”
His turn to raise a brow. “What makes you certain of that, Miss Barlow?”
“Julia.”
“Of course. Julia.”
“The surprise, it registered in your eyes. You banished the look quickly, but it was there for a moment, long enough for me to see.”
He nodded, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with her supposition.
“To recap, he’s violent towards his wife, he knows she is pregnant with someone else’s baby, he has ties to the war which explains the red poppies on the garroting wire. Finally, one thing that you couldn’t know but that I do is that Jimmie is innocent. I’ve known him my whole life and there is simply no reason under the sun that would provoke him such behavior. Which means that whoever killed Eliza must have had a reason to frame Jimmie specifically. Jimmie and Eliza have been close friends for many years. Of course they exchanged love letters. They loved each other, just not in the way you think. I’m sure the letters that you found when you arrested Jimmie were sincere, yet, if you read them again understanding that they loved each other as good friends do, you would see no evidence of romantic love. Philip chose to frame Jimmie for the murder because of his existing relationship with Eliza. It would be quite easy to scandalize their relationship and accuse Jimmie of having an affair with his wife. We all know, not to speak ill of the dead, that Lady Eliza Withers had quite a reputation for entertaining men. Which is quite her prerogative if you ask me.”
Inspector Gibbs nodded. “An interesting supposition, Julia. It appears you don’t miss much. You say Jimmie was good friends with Eliza and that Philip knew it and would have used that to his advantage. Is Jimmie your source that Eliza was definitely pregnant?”
“I’ll never reveal my sources, Inspector.”
“How is it that you have come by the information that Philip Withers is sterile?”
“Another source. I should like to confirm it. I think it would take someone with more author
ity than I to have a look at his medical records. Someone like yourself, perhaps.”
“Perhaps, indeed.”
Once they’d finished their tea, Julia took her leave.
“Thank you for the company,” she said.
Another lingering handshake between the two and his parting words, “I’ll ring you when I learn about the medical records, Julia. Until then.”
Then he turned and walked away. She stared at his retreating figure until he was out of sight, entertaining scandalous thoughts about the good Inspector.
When Julia arrived at home, there was a letter on the table in the foyer with her name scratched on the front. She opened it and read as she made her way to her room.
Julia,
Your mother and I have tolerated your disrespect for entirely too long. We have come to the conclusion that it is time for you to grow up and get married. You’ll be entirely too spoiled if your scandalous behavior is not brought to heel immediately. It is with this purpose that we make the following demand.
Agree to marry Sidney Guinness or be cut off from the family, including our name, our money, and our access to the society with which you so enjoy frolicking around London.
You have until the weekend to make your decision. We’ve convinced Sidney to hold his proposition open, assuring him that you have been rather emotional lately and that you have come to your senses.
Signed,
Father
Julia slammed the door to her rooms and threw herself on to her bed. This was the final straw. She cried into her pillow until sleep took her.
Chapter 7
Sunday Early Afternoon
November 13, 1921
Barlow Residence
Mayfair, London
Julia woke up disoriented. It was early afternoon and she could feel the hectic pace of the last few days catching up to her, plus her father’s ultimatum.
