Chapter 23
Ainsley arrived at the offices of Humphry and Humphry with convoluted thoughts but hope in his heart. He was certain the information he and Dr. Waters had discovered would be enough to cast doubt on any evidence against Jonas. Ainsley wished they had irrefutable proof but was just happy to be on the right track.
During his walk over he had decided to not worry about the identity, or the gender for that matter, of Frobisher’s lover. At least not right then. Instead, he resolved to focus on the evidence that would prove Jonas’s innocence, even if they couldn’t identify the true killer. He only hoped Margaret had been successful in getting a photograph of Eloise.
The distracted clerk at the front desk directed him up to Samuel’s office but did not accompany him. Ainsley peered around the door to Samuel’s small office, a broad smile on his face, but found the chair behind his friend’s desk empty.
A conversation in a nearby room pulled Ainsley back into the hall. He recognized Samuel’s voice amongst the handful of others and followed the sounds two doors down. He rapped his knuckle on the door, which sat ajar, and pushed it open another few inches when the men in the room fell silent. There were three men in total, Samuel, Thomas, and another man who Ainsley recognized as Samuel’s father, the other partner of Humphry and Humphry.
“Excuse me,” Ainsley said, spotting Samuel just a few feet from the door. “Samuel, I may have found something of interest to our case.”
Samuel’s expression sank when he saw it was Ainsley. He quickly turned from the others and ushered Ainsley back into the hall.
“Peter—”
“Forgive me,” Ainsley said, not allowing Samuel to finish. “I found something and I thought I should bring it to you straightaway. Dr. Waters is revising his report on Frobisher’s death. More than half the wounds were inflicted after Frobisher expired.”
“He’s revising his report?”
Ainsley saw the doubt in Samuel’s face.
“How much convincing did it take?” Samuel asked.
Ainsley regarded him, confused. “He mentioned it himself when I sought clarification.”
Samuel glanced to the door nervously. “I don’t see—”
“We believe, Waters and I, that Frobisher was moved from the original crime scene to Frobisher’s office in an effort to cover up the true murderer’s identity and set up Jonas. This explains why the estimated time of death doesn’t match with the Edinburgh Police’s timeline of events. Why are you looking at me like that? At the very least, this casts doubt on the case against Jonas.”
The door opened again and Samuel’s father stepped out.
“Peter, this is my father, Mr. Humphry. He’s just returned from Glasgow.”
A look of trepidation overtook Samuel’s gaze during his introduction.
Ainsley outstretched his hand to William Humphry and offered a firm handshake. “Good day, sir,” he said, channelling the fortified diplomacy Ainsley’s own father had been known for. “I was just telling your son about some new evidence that may help our case tremendously.”
The older gentleman, red-haired and lean, lowered his chin and cast a wary eye over Ainsley. “You should save your explanations for my next available appointment.” He pulled out a gold pocket watch and popped open the cover. “Which won’t be today, unfortunately. Have my clerk downstairs schedule you in for some time next week.” Mr. Humphry gave a flat-mouthed smile and slid between them.
Ainsley looked to Samuel. “I don’t understand.”
“He’s taken me from the case,” Samuel explained in a hushed tone.
“What? But why?”
“As soon as he heard you were the one behind it, he wanted to drop both you and Jonas without notice.” Samuel glanced over Ainsley’s shoulder as if to make sure his father had gone. “I convinced him to take it on, for Jonas’s sake, even if I can’t be involved.” His gaze met Ainsley’s squarely. “I’m sorry, Peter. That’s the best I can do.”
Ainsley could sense there was something more behind the man’s sudden decision, something Samuel was not telling him. “What was his objection to my name?” he asked. He wondered if it had to do with the scandal of his mother or the recent calamity of his father’s condition. There was enough in his recent past to make even the most steadfast friend doubt Ainsley’s respectability.
Folding in his lips, Samuel hesitated and his eyes danced about as he tried to find the words to explain. “You’ve never been in his favour, Peter, so let’s stop pretending. Ever since first year, he’s bemoaned my friendship with you, but it was that incident involving the apothecary that he objects to the most.”
As soon as Samuel said the words the related images flooded to the forefront of Ainsley’s mind. It was nearly the end of the second year when, bolstered by drink, Ainsley hatched a plan that he, Samuel, and Jonas should help themselves to some Turkish Opium in the apothecary’s stores. Ainsley had assured them they would not be discovered as he had been trusted with the key for some task by one of the professors earlier in the week. They pilfered only a small amount, with the hopes it would not be missed, and went to the morgue to continue drinking. Within an hour Samuel was throwing up. At first, Ainsley and Jonas laughed as their friend emptied the contents of his stomach over the cement floor. It wasn’t long, though, before they realized that Samuel was in medical distress, a reaction caused by the inexcusable amount of alcohol they had consumed and the medication they had stolen.
Ainsley remembered the panic he felt, the feeling of hopelessness as Samuel tried to crawl away from the pain that was wreaking havoc on his body. Still in the early stages of their training, neither Jonas nor Ainsley trusted themselves to treat him on their own.
“We have to take him to the infirmary,” Ainsley had said once he realized how much danger his friend was in.
“They’ll know what we did,” Jonas answered soberly. He wasn’t against the plan. He was merely saying aloud what they both knew to be true. If they didn’t take Samuel to see a doctor, he would die, they knew that much. There was no debate.
They unceremoniously removed one of the cadavers from a nearby stretcher and coaxed a weakened Samuel onto it before racing up the flight of stairs and down the hall, calling for assistance the entire way.
Ainsley closed his eyes to block out the memory of it but quickly realized these embarrassments from his youth would not cease to exist just because he willed them so.
All three of them had narrowly escaped expulsion. All three of them had been the subject of ridicule by faculty and classmates alike. But only one of them had a wealthy family fortune to fall back on if their scholarly ambitions fell through. The situation had been far more dire for Jonas and Samuel than it ever had been for Ainsley.
If the younger Ainsley had been aware of his wealthy privilege, the privilege that allowed him to take bigger risks and not fear serious consequences, he suppressed it easily. To the older Ainsley, the man who now stood firmly in adulthood, the contrast was so striking it nearly knocked him from his feet. He had been the one who beckoned them to join him, the one who guided all their misadventures, the one who would suffer the least amount of consequences should their folly prove disastrous.
“Is this why he has refused to name you partner?” Ainsley asked.
Samuel’s jaw clenched but he made no attempt to answer.
Without explanation, Ainsley turned in place and marched down the hall.
“Peter.” Samuel followed him. “Peter!”
Ainsley ignored him and was glad he was already four paces ahead. He found Mr. Humphry’s office at the end of the hall. A rectangular, brass plaque, etched with the name William Humphry, signalled that he was at the right door. Ainsley went in without knocking.
“Sir,” he said, as soon as he spied Mr. Humphry at the bookshelf. “A word with you, if I may?”
Mr. Humphry looked past Ainsley to the door, his expression hardening at the intrusion. “Like I said, you’ll have to make an appointment.”
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Ainsley ignored his words. “I am aware of your contempt for me, sir,” he said. “I do not blame you.”
Mr. Humphry raised his eyebrows. “Samuel.” He nodded toward his son, who stood at the door. “Have your friend removed from the premises.”
Ainsley felt a gentle, reluctant hand slide under his arm. He easily sidestepped and pulled his arm free. “Sir, I regret that your son has been slandered as a direct result of my actions.” Ainsley felt his heart quicken and his throat tighten.
“Peter …”
Ainsley ignored Samuel’s plea. “There was a time when I drank too much and cared too little. My family’s position in society allowed arrogance to develop inside me unfettered, a belief that I could do anything without recourse. I was blind to the fact that this wasn’t the case for my friends.” Ainsley stole a glance to Samuel. “Any misdeeds perpetrated by your son were most assuredly instigated by me. He should not be punished for my reckless behaviour.”
Mr. Humphry squared his shoulders to Ainsley and regarded him thoughtfully.
“I’m sure your son and brother have alerted you to my parentage. The very thing I told myself I despised was what I used to avoid my responsibilities. I don’t blame you for your reluctance to help me. In fact, I know I don’t deserve it. But Jonas, he is a good man. A far better man than I will ever be, and he doesn’t deserve to have his name slandered in such a way, not when he has worked so hard.”
The room fell silent. Neither Ainsley nor Samuel dared to move as Mr. Humphry slowly lowered the book in his hand to the desk. Ainsley could tell the older gentleman was turning Ainsley’s words over in his head.
“That was an impassioned speech, young man,” Mr. Humphry said at last, removing his glasses. “But I’m not entirely sure what you are looking for me to do.”
Ainsley glanced over his shoulder to look at his friend. “I need Samuel. He has to work this case.”
Mr. Humphry chuckled at Ainsley’s words. “I do not understand your devotion.” The older man licked his lips as his gaze shifted to his son. “I trust you have seen the state of his office. It hardly resembles that of a solicitor of any worth.”
“That is only because you insist on squeezing me into a nine-by-nine coat closet,” Samuel inserted, before adding a quick “sir” out of respect. His eyes shifted to Ainsley and then back again. He squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. “Perhaps if I were allowed proper desks, cabinets, and shelves, as you and Uncle are afforded, I may impress you—”
“You will never impress me.”
The mood of the room, which had only been moderately tense, crashed at Mr. Humphry’s words.
“It will take a miracle to impress me at this point.” Mr. Humphry placed his spectacles on the top of his desk and slipped his hands into his trouser pockets. “Of all the sons born to me, why was it you who survived?” He regarded Samuel with the hardened feelings of a man heartbroken and floundering. He’d regret his words before long, Ainsley knew this. But in that moment the man seethed with aggression and rage, not necessarily at Samuel but at the world, a world in which promising baby sons met an untimely end and teenage boys rarely met the high expectations of their fathers.
“I had three sons, did Samuel ever tell you that?” Mr. Humphry asked, his attention on Ainsley. “One died in infancy, another drowned at eleven. And yet somehow, by some miracle, Samuel is to be my namesake. My legacy.”
Ainsley could see Samuel shrink back, beaten down by the disapproval of his father. It was a calculated tactic that was developed by him at an early age, a method that would keep the peace, but only for so long. Samuel would never meet the approval of his father, not while the old man conjured images of faultless sons who never made it to adulthood.
Samuel reached for Ainsley’s arm and gestured for the door. “We should leave,” he said, quietly. “I’ll help you find another firm.”
But Ainsley couldn’t bring himself to move. He stood between father and son, two men blinded to each other’s pain just as Ainsley and his own father had been before the man was confined to bed and a wordless existence.
“I pity you, sir,” Ainsley said at last. “I pity you and all the men like you who refuse to see the potential in their own child. While you mourn the loss of two children, a third lives on subjected to your cynicism and scorn. I had a father like you—”
“That is quite enough, Mr. Marshall—”
Ainsley ignored him even as Mr. Humphry moved toward him. “My father was a man so bolstered by his authority that he never fathomed a day when he would rely upon his children for his very existence.”
Mr. Humphry took him up by the arms and began pushing him for the door. Samuel came to Ainsley’s aid but only to ease his exit. Despite the two of them entreating Ainsley to leave, he struggled. Their faces inches from each other Ainsley forced Mr. Humphry to look him in the eyes.
“Have you heard the Earl of Montcliff’s misfortune? How he can neither eat nor bathe on his own. How his every wish must be interpreted, guessed at by those around him. This once admirable man of the House of Lords, who can neither speak nor write, has been reduced to a shadow of who he once was. You’ve heard of his fate?”
Ainsley felt Mr. Humphry’s grip loosen as he spoke.
“This is my father, the man who rejected me. I would never wish his fate upon anyone but perhaps I would make an exception for you, Mr. Humphry, especially if you insist on punishing Samuel for something done nearly five years ago.”
The man, lost in his own thoughts, did not immediately release Ainsley. Finally, he was able to step back and adjust his collar and jacket on his shoulders. “My apologies, Samuel,” Ainsley said. “Had I known what I know now I’d never have insisted on cultivating so much trouble.”
Samuel took a step back to reveal his uncle at the door. Thomas cleared the way as well to allow Ainsley more room to pass. “I think you should go,” Samuel said.
Ainsley did not protest and started for the door.
“Wait.” Mr. Humphry’s baritone voice merely added to the tension.
Ainsley stopped.
“Why must it be Samuel?” Mr. Humphry asked. “Why my son?”
Ainsley looked to Samuel. “Because no one else would ensure Jonas gets a fair trial, not like Samuel could. It has to be him, because he knows Jonas is innocent and I know he will work as hard as I have been.”
Mr. Humphry’s gaze shifted back and forth between Ainsley and his son.
“I do not argue for my sake. I have used up all my second chances. This is for Jonas, who no more deserves these accusations against him than Samuel would. They are both innocent of their supposed crimes.”
The slightest of smiles touched Samuel’s lips. There was a long pause, long enough for Ainsley to question the effectiveness of his argument.
“Mr. Marshall—”
Ainsley stood tall.
“You are in the wrong profession,” Mr. Humphry said, his features stoic. “You should have been a lawyer.”
Chapter 24
It was some time before Margaret’s heartbeat returned to a reasonable pace. She’d made it to St. Giles’ Cathedral before she realized the panic she was in wasn’t abating. She couldn’t explain why she reacted in such a way other than to say there was something dreadfully foreboding about that place and about Eloise in particular. Aunt Louisa would have told her it was her women’s intuition, the uncanny ability females had at picking up relatively unnoticeable things.
Margaret paused at the foot of the cathedral steps and leaned against its stone wall. She looked about her before lifting her reticule. Molly’s ring caught the light and her heart sank. Eloise had certainly seen it and there was no telling what conclusions she would make regarding it. Margaret opened the drawstrings of her reticule, pulled the ring from her finger, and tossed it inside.
Then, to settle her nerves, she verified that she still had the framed picture she needed to show the barkeep. Sure enough, it was there. Margaret felt a great sense
of relief at having done her duty. The discomfort she felt had not been for naught.
There was a flutter in her stomach and she could feel the tightness beneath her corset. Without thinking Margaret touched her lower abdomen over the folds of her skirt. The image of Eloise’s dead sister came to the forefront of her mind. A tiny newborn snuffed of life before it had entirely been granted. Margaret closed her eyes and willed the image away. A tear slipped from the corner of her eye.
It had been nearly three months since her courses but she hadn’t thought much of it until that moment. And then a panic overtook her as the realization set in. For weeks she had encouraged her own blissful ignorance, denying any correlation between the changes taking place in her body and that one night she and Jonas had shared.
She quickly retied her bag and took a step forward, nearly colliding with an old woman, the same beggar woman from the train station.
“Lavender oil, my dear,” the woman said.
“No,” Margaret said, gently pushing the woman’s hands from her face. “Thank you.”
“Two pence a bottle,” the woman said behind a black-laced veil.
Margaret worked hard to conceal her disgust at the smell emanating from the beggar woman’s ripped and threadbare clothes.
“No, I must be on my way,” Margaret said.
The woman ignored her protests and grabbed for Margaret’s hand. Forcing her palm up, the woman poured a tablespoon’s worth out and began rubbing it into Margaret’s skin. “Makes the lady’s skin nice and soft. Calms the mind.”
The woman’s nails dug into Margaret’s skin as she struggled to free her hand.
“Maybe a stomach-soothing draught.” She pointed to Margaret’s stomach. “For the baby.”
Margaret realized she had been holding her stomach protectively and pulled it away.
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