“How did you know to come?” Jonas asked.
Ainsley gave a sideways glance to Margaret. How does one explain the image that found them the night before? “I don’t know,” Ainsley said. “I just knew we had to come. No one sent for us. We saw the evening edition at the Waverley station and came straightaway.”
Jonas nodded and looked away. “It’s in the papers already, is it?”
“What happened?” Ainsley asked at last. “The papers said murder.”
“Say it isn’t so,” Margaret said, suddenly pressing herself into the iron bars that separated them. “You aren’t capable of such a thing. I know—”
“You know very little about me, Lady Margaret,” Jonas said, interrupting her, “or what I am capable of.”
Even with her body pressed up to the bars, her gloved hands curled around the iron bars, he stood back, just out of reach and a few inches more. His eye contact with her was broken, focusing on the cement floor in front of him or the darkness just beyond her shoulder.
“I know you are not capable of murder,” she said suddenly, her words giving away to a slight growl.
“We are all capable of murder,” Jonas said, stealing a glance to Ainsley. “The three of us know that more than anyone.”
Abashed, Ainsley knew his friend alluded to his own demons and a split-second decision that had almost landed him on the other side of the iron partition. Had it not been for Jonas, Ainsley would be in a much different place.
“Do not give up hope,” Ainsley said, determined to see his friend exonerated. “I can see how much this gloomy place has affected you already.”
Jonas shook his head as a slight smile tickled the edges of his lips. “There is nothing for either of you to do. You both should leave this place and never again darken its doors. I know why this has befallen me and neither of you should have anything to do with it.” Jonas turned from them slowly and tilted his face to the moonlight that streamed in through the window.
Margaret hesitated as her hands slipped from the bars. Taking a step back, she looked to Ainsley as if pleading for guidance before making up her mind to speak up. “You cannot mean that.”
“How can you know what I mean?” For a moment he kept his back to them, his shoulders square and his hands in his pockets.
Even in the dim light, Ainsley saw the determination in his sister’s eyes.
“I know—”
“How many weeks has it been since I’ve heard from either of you?” Jonas snapped, twisting himself around. His face was hardened in anger, his mouth curled into a sneer.
“That isn’t entirely fair!” Ainsley could not tell him all that had transpired since Jonas left for Edinburgh. In the very least Jonas was aware that their father, Lord Marshall, had been taken ill and was now bed stricken. Ainsley had written to him to tell him as much. That alone should have excused any faults as a friend, for a short while, at least.
“Jonas, I don’t understand what you are tell—”
“I am telling you to leave me. Both of you! Leave me to the fate of my own creation. Leave me and be done with it. It should save me the heartache the next time you disappear from my life.” He waved his hand, dismissing them from his sight as he turned his back to them. “You were clearly done with me and now I am done with you.”
Margaret stepped forward, her face contorted in anger and frustration. “You are the most sorrowful excuse for a man I have ever met!” she yelled, loud enough for everyone in the entire prison to hear. A few of the sleeping men turned their heads to look at her. “We came here to help you and you turn us away like … like mangy dogs?”
“Margaret.” Ainsley tried to pull her away but she jerked her arm out of his grasp.
“You may not appreciate my presence, or even the lengths it took me to get here, but I am here now and I am not leaving Edinburgh, Jonas Davies, not until I see you permanently on the other side of these bars.”
Margaret watched him determinedly for a long while, but he did not turn. He merely bowed his head and shoved his hands deeper into his trouser pockets. She looked to Ainsley, a cascade of tears filling her lower eyelids. She looked weak and tired, still unable to grasp their friend’s refusal to accept help.
“That’s it?” she asked, her face twisting into a scowl. “I’m thrown to the dogs, then? After everything?” Her voice cracked as she spoke but the rising tension was not enough to entreat Jonas to turn around. Her hardened face turned to Ainsley and back to Jonas. “Forgive me, Peter. I suddenly haven’t the stomach for this place.”
Without a lantern, she strode for the stairs with even steps and all the grace instilled in her since she was a child. Ainsley knew her heart was broken despite her great effort to conceal it. Seeing his sister’s current state made Ainsley so angry he couldn’t speak.
The iron door at the top of the stairs groaned as Margaret passed. Only then did Jonas turn his gaze toward her.
“Jonas Davies, what the hell has—?”
Ainsley’s admonishment was cut short by Jonas’s quick movement toward him.
“Get her out of Edinburgh,” he said sharply. “Take her to London, or The Briar, I don’t care. You must get her as far away from here as possible.” His words were laced with panic, a state Ainsley had never witnessed in his friend. “I don’t want her name slandered alongside mine.”
“What is happening?” Ainsley could not hide his confusion.
Jonas began to pace, running his hands through his hair, but remained close to the iron bars of his cell. “Something is terribly wrong.”
“I can help you. Tell me what happened—”
“I don’t remember anything!” Jonas’s words were punctuated by the anguish of his current state. “I don’t remember any of it. If I’d killed someone, you’d think I’d remember bits and pieces at least.” Jonas covered his mouth with a trembling hand. “I woke up like this in Frobisher’s office. I don’t remember going there, or why.” Jonas closed his eyes. “All of Edinburgh believes I killed him. I have nothing to refute such a claim. I’m as good as dead, Peter.”
“No.” Ainsley reached between the bars and grabbed Jonas’s shoulder, forcing him to look him in the eye. “You’re not. We will prove your innocence.”
The lantern light that shone on Jonas’s face revealed sudden tears. “I am a surgeon,” he said. “The son of a housemaid. I haven’t enough money to influence anyone who could help me.”
Ainsley grabbed the back of Jonas’s neck and together they leaned into the bars that separated them. “I will help you,” he said without hesitation, “as you have done for me on countless occasions.”
Jonas nodded.
“You are as a brother to me,” Ainsley said after a moment when neither of them spoke.
“As you are to me.”
“Tell me, friend, what can I do?”
Chapter 4
Margaret charged out the front doors and down the few steps of the jail. Giles, who had been waiting for them just beyond the door, turned suddenly when she appeared. He reached out a hand to her to assist her down the steps but she batted it away.
“Do not coddle me,” she barked. A chill nipped at her as soon as she passed through the stone arch and wooden doors but Margaret was still hot with anger, and perhaps embarrassment.
“Forgive me,” Giles said, pulling his hand back. “My only intent was to help.”
Margaret turned in place at the bottom of the steps, huffing slightly from her determined march from the basement. “Something is not right,” she said. She pointed back to the building from whence she came with jagged and punctuated movements. “That man is not the Jonas who my brother and I have come to know and …” Her face contorted. “And …” She closed her eyes against an unmentionable pain.
Giles stood awkwardly a few steps above the pavement, one hand on the rail. “Forgive me,” he said, “I had not realized you two were … connected in such a way.”
Margaret suddenly realized her mistake. Nothing of th
eir relationship had been made official. As a matter of fact, their entire involvement had been kept secret not only to save Margaret from having to tell her disapproving father but also, perhaps, to allow Jonas time to contemplate whether he truly wanted to end his life as a bachelor.
“We aren’t,” she said. “I was only speaking for my brother. Jonas and he have been very close for a number of years.” A sniffle escaped her before she could silence it.
Giles nodded. “Yes, it has been a number of years, hasn’t it?” He smiled and licked his lips. “Those two are always getting into trouble alongside one another. Our anatomy class once came into the theatre to see our male cadaver dressed in a lace bonnet, apron, and rouge. The look on our professor’s face, all red and bloated in rage, was one for the history books!” A laugh escaped him as he remembered the sight. “It was another hour before it was determined Peter and Jonas were the ones who had done it.”
Margaret listened somewhat unwillingly, unsure she wanted to hear any more about the great relationship shared by her brother and Jonas Davies. It made her feel as if her relationship with him had all been a figment of her imagination. While it was true her commitment to her father and his ailing health had kept her from running away to Scotland with him, she had still held hope that Jonas’s feelings for her had not diminished and that sometime in the future they could begin again where they had left off. Less than ten minutes in Calton Jail had proven those dreams to be a mere folly.
“Jonas and Peter were the ones to beat,” Giles continued, not noticing or choosing to ignore her discomfort. “Everyone hated them.” A moment of silence passed before he forced a laugh. “I speak in jest, of course.”
The front door to the jail opened and Ainsley appeared at the top step. Holding the iron railing, he rushed down and went straight for Margaret.
“That man certainly knows how to vex a woman,” she said, anger rushing over her once more.
“He is not himself,” Ainsley said.
“That’s a poor excuse for such a meeting,” Margaret said, turning from Ainsley’s intended embrace. “I have never been treated in such a manner.” Her eyes darted to Giles. She must choose her words carefully.
“We must remain calm,” Ainsley said. “There is nothing we can do standing on the steps. We will make our way to the hotel and speak about it over breakfast.”
Margaret could feel herself harden at the suggestion of leaving. Jonas could not leave. Why should they be free to move about at will while he languished in such a place?
“Margaret, please. It will all be much clearer in the morning.” Ainsley placed a hand on Margaret’s back.
He was right. She could do nothing and that was the real root of her anger. This feeling of helplessness was eating away at her very soul. “Yes, of course,” Margaret said, fighting back a new round of tears. “There is nothing left for us to do here.” She looked to Ainsley, the weight of her predicament borne on her features. “He doesn’t want us here.”
Ainsley’s shoulders sank as she spoke. “I’m not so sure about that.”
Chapter 5
The morning sun had hardly a chance to make an appearance in the sky when Ainsley decided he couldn’t feign sleep any longer. Before he had extinguished his lantern light the night before he had read the newspaper article nearly fifty times. Each word, and their order, was now ingrained in his mind, but that did not prevent him from lifting up the newspaper once again from his bedside table.
Something just wasn’t quite right. There were many details that the so-called journalist had left unaccounted for. The article did a stellar job of outlining Professor Frobisher’s history as a pillar of the community, starkly contrasting it against the details of Jonas’s fatherless upbringing. There was no mention of Jonas’s surgical success in London and why exactly the university had sought him out to join the faculty. Jonas had been right about one thing; he possessed very little influence in Edinburgh. The newspapers, it seemed, had already chosen a side.
Ainsley dressed rather quickly. He splashed his face with water from the basin and raked his hand through his hair. He found Elmira at the end of the hall near the servant’s stairs, one of Margaret’s blouses draped over her arm.
The old woman stopped suddenly when she saw him and bowed her head. “Mr. Marshall.”
“Is Cutter about?” Ainsley asked, peering down the winding stairs, half expecting him to be just a few steps down.
“Yes, sir. He is having breakfast in the servant’s dining room.” The woman looked abashed and avoided Ainsley’s gaze. “We did not expect you or Lady Margaret to wake so early given our late arrival.”
“It’s perfectly all right,” Ainsley said. “I had trouble sleeping, that is all.” Ainsley glanced behind him to Margaret’s door, her room directly across from his own. He licked his lips as he turned his attention back to Edith. “Shall we go find Cutter? There is a task that I shall need both of you to complete.”
Elmira gave a hesitant smile, a smile of obligation rather than pleasure. “Yes, sir.”
Ainsley invited them both to join him in one of the parlours, an invitation that did not sit well with Elmira, who was not used to such informal dealings with her employers. The woman sat on the very edge of the sofa, her wrinkly hands folded delicately in her lap as Ainsley took a seat opposite her. A small, glossy table had been positioned between them. It was just large enough to hold their tea tray as well as a small bowl of fruit Ainsley had ordered for himself. Cutter, who was seated next to Elmira, looked less appalled at the informal parley. He had grown accustomed to Ainsley’s displeasure toward formality and had learned to merely do as Mr. Marshall bid.
Over the course of half an hour and a full pot of tea, the threesome hatched their plan.
“I shall see that four tickets are purchased, sir,” Cutter said with a nod. “Have no worry, sir.”
“And see that my trunk is packed as I have instructed you,” Ainsley said.
Cutter nodded.
Elmira looked from Cutter to Ainsley, a shadow of doubt overtaking her expression. “But, sir, forgive my impertinence, but a return to London so soon after our arrival? I daresay Lady Margaret needs time to recover from the travel we endured yesterday.”
Ainsley nodded. The maid’s concerns were not unwarranted but he could see no way around it. Jonas had asked him to get Margaret out of the city before anyone heard that they had arrived. Leaving that day on the morning train was the only way to ensure her safety in all this.
“I do not make this decision lightly,” he said. “And I am aware of the strain this has placed upon you … especially given your age.”
Elmira clicked her tongue. “Watch your tongue, Mister Marshall. I may not be young in years, but I’ve got plenty of energy left.”
Ainsley wasn’t so sure about that. The more he saw of the woman the more he realized she was the absolute worst choice to be Margaret’s lady’s maid.
“It’s important that you tell her exactly what I have told you,” Ainsley said. “Once on the train she will understand.”
Cutter and Elmira nodded.
“Good.” Ainsley slapped his knees as he stood up. “I’ll leave you both to it then.”
“We shall see you in a short while then, sir?” Cutter asked, standing up and reaching out to shake his employer’s hand.
Ainsley returned his strong grasp. “That you will, Cutter. I just have a few things to see to. That is all.”
As Ainsley turned to leave he heard Elmira muttering under her breath. “Never have I been asked to participate in such goings-on,” she said, keeping her voice low and probably hoping only Cutter could hear.
“You shall become accustomed to it soon enough,” Cutter said matter-of-factly. “I can say one thing for certain, this won’t be the last time.”
Ainsley could not help but smile as he walked the length of the hotel hall, buttoning his jacket and adjusting his cuffs on his wrists. Elmira would do best to accept the absurdity of his family�
�s requests. The Marshalls were not your typical noble family.
***
The streets of Edinburgh had changed little since he had last been there. The old city stretched out before him, a grid of tightly formed buildings each molded into each other yet with distinctively different facades. The streets were not as crowded as London’s, which allowed Ainsley more room to walk and search the building fronts for the name he remembered well.
At last he saw it, further down the Royal Mile than he had remembered but at least he had found it; the offices of Humphry and Humphry, solicitors of law.
Ainsley was thankful for the break from the wind as he pushed through the right side of the wooden double doors. As he removed his hat, Ainsley’s feet fell onto soft, green carpet. His eyes quickly adjusted to the gas light sconces that illuminated the hall. A single desk was positioned to the side where a young man of perhaps sixteen looked up from papers in front of him. A clerk’s typewriter was on a separate table, set adjacent to the desk and creating an L-shaped space where the young man performed his work.
“May I help you, sir?” the young man asked, standing up as Ainsley stepped forward.
“Yes, I’m searching for Samuel Humphry,” Ainsley said. He could not keep himself from looking about. The offices had changed considerably since his last call. Gone were the tattered and stained chairs and traffic-worn rugs. The room had been completely refurbished with newly refreshed furnishings and refinished trim. “Last I knew him, he was apprenticing below his father, Alexander Humphry. He must be a solicitor in his own right by now.”
The young clerk plucked a small stack of papers from his desk. “Yes, well … I shall take you to him.”
Up two flights of stairs they went, passing a number of offices, each with a different name engraved on brass plates fastened to their closed doors. At the end of the hall on the second floor the clerk stopped and gave a light rap with his knuckle. Ainsley noticed that this door did not have a nameplate and the door was slightly ajar. Inside, Ainsley could see floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, each in various stages of disarray. Through the sliver of an opening he could see papers and files threatening to tumble to the floor were it not for the heavy volumes placed in such a way propping the stacks up.
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