He jerked a nod as he continued his flight. Of course she wanted tea. He was a heel for not suggesting it himself. An hour ago she’d damned near been frozen to death. She’d be lucky if she survived this without succumbing to pneumonia. Then he’d have two invalids in his house. No, that wasn’t going to happen if he could help it. He opened the door connecting the two kitchens and helped himself to two bowls of soup, half a loaf of bread and three cups of steaming tea. Leaving his own portion in his kitchen, he plunked the rest on a tray and carted it up the stairs.
It was odd to have a woman and child in the house—an uncomfortable reminder of what might have been, although his guest was thin, with medium-brown straight hair, blue eyes and a dainty heart-shaped face. Vidya had been voluptuous, with black curls and flashing dark eyes, taller than some of his soldiers. Any child of theirs would have looked nothing like delicate little Ivy Shaw. Still, the love he saw in the mother’s face touched him in a way nothing had since Vidya had died in his arms.
* * *
“Mama, I have to go again.” Ivy looked up from her bundle of blankets. “Where’s the chamber pot?”
After hanging her borrowed cloak on a wall hook, Minnie stared around the comfortably appointed, if plain, bedroom, but didn’t see a commode or washstand anywhere in sight. “Oh! That’s right. Mr. Brown said there’s a lavatory next door.” Tired as she was, she’d almost forgotten the bathing room in the servants’ quarters. Of course there was real plumbing up here on the family floor.
Ivy’s eyes widened. “A real loo? Like at the church, but in a house?”
“Yes, dear.” Minnie shrugged. Unwrapping the blanket, she bent to pick Ivy up, but Ivy shook her head.
“I can walk, Mama. Don’t worry.” Ivy slipped from the bed, only a trifle unsteady on her feet. “I told you, I’m better.”
“Of course you did, dearest.” Minnie took her daughter’s hand and found that the bathing room up here was indeed as nice as the one below stairs. Like the rest of the house that she’d seen it was austere in decor, but meticulously clean and provided with all the necessary comforts, like fresh towels and an untouched bar of lavender soap. While Ivy used the commode, Minnie ran wash water in the sink. Hot water on command—what an unimaginable luxury. The furthest she’d ever been into a house like this was the back steps. Jane would have been over the moon, looking around and cooing over every detail. Tears saturated Minnie’s cheeks as she scrubbed Ivy inch by inch, going through three basins of water and four pristine facecloths. It still didn’t seem possible that she’d never see Jane again. She and Ivy had lost the only family they had beside each other. Minnie would never find another friend so full of life, who could make her smile even while they shared a single bowl of soup, to make sure there was plenty for Ivy.
Ivy’s eyes were drooping by the time Minnie had the worst of the black soot washed from her face and body. The hair would have to wait for another day. Back in the bedroom, she quickly dressed the child in a clean nightgown, bundled her hair into some semblance of a braid and tucked her under the covers.
The scent of spices and meat caught her nostrils. There. Mr. Brown had obviously been up, as a tray rested on the top of the lone dresser. A bowl, two teacups and a plate of bread and butter rested haphazardly on the surface. The two pillowcases containing Minnie and Ivy’s things had been brought up and placed next to their bag on a small trunk at the foot of the bed. Minnie’s borrowed cloak and Ivy’s wet blanket had disappeared. Their host was silent but thorough. “Ivy, would you like some tea?”
No answer came. Ivy lay against the pillows, eyes closed and mouth slightly open. Her chest moved with the easy languor of sleep. Minnie laid a reddened hand on Ivy’s forehead and sighed. Blessedly cool. Ivy was really and truly past the crisis.
Tears still stinging against her eyelids, Minnie let herself slump into a slipcovered armchair by the wide window, teacup in her hands. More than anything, she wanted to take off her borrowed dress and drenched boots, and curl up in that nice big bed with her daughter.
No. More than anything, she didn’t want to think about her flat—and Jane. Later, when she was alone, she could cry her heart out.
She forced her eyes to open and sipped some of the tea. Someone—Mr. Brown?—had added a healthy dollop of honey. The sweetness made her smile. The fates had been kind to her when they’d landed her on his doorstep. He was a thoughtful man despite his brusque exterior. It would be so easy to fall asleep right here and just let someone else take care of everything—something she hadn’t done since she was seventeen. Too rugged to be classically handsome, he was still an impressive specimen of the male of the species. She’d wanted to rub her hand along the scruffy dark stubble that covered his chin. Good heavens! She hadn’t thought of a man like that in years. It must be the shock of the night that had her thinking like that silly girl she’d once been.
Footsteps on the stairs brought her fully awake. She set aside her cup and straightened her skirts, folding her hands demurely in her lap. Submissive behavior didn’t come naturally to Minnie, but over the years, she’d learned. Nobody liked an uppity seamstress and nobody employed one either. Which reminded her that she’d have to go looking for a position again. She’d missed three days due to Ivy’s illness. Jane had told her yesterday that Madame had turned her off. That meant she likely wouldn’t see this month’s wages either.
A tap sounded at the door. Ivy didn’t stir.
“Come in.” Minnie sat up as straight as she could manage and smiled.
“Mrs. Shaw, meet Dr. Grant. Grant, this is Mrs. Shaw and her daughter, Ivy.” Mr. Brown turned on his heel, then paused. “Mrs. Shaw, if I might have a word with you when the doctor’s finished?”
“Of course.” She didn’t think he’d turn her out into the night—not after bringing Ivy here so carefully. Still, she watched his back as he retreated. If he did, where would she go? Would she be allowed back into her flat? And who would see to poor Jane?
“Delighted, Mrs. Shaw.” The doctor’s deep voice rasped with fatigue, but a note of wry humor came through, echoed in the crinkles around his eyes. He was older than Mr. Brown, perhaps fifty or so, with thinning hair and a neat Van Dyke beard just beginning to turn gray. He set his bag down on the foot of the bed and gestured at Ivy. “I hear our patient has taken a turn for the better. May I?”
“Of course.” Minnie moved to the side of the bed and gently woke Ivy. For the next ten minutes or so, she assisted. Dr. Grant was quick but worked with skill and compassion, his eyes twinkling at Ivy as he probed and questioned. After he had finished, Ivy fell right back to sleep, clutching her favorite doll, which Minnie had taken out of its pillowcase.
“She does have some congestion in her lungs,” the doctor said softly out in the corridor. “Although that’s unfortunately common amongst Londoners. No signs of measles, scarlet fever or any of the other contagious diseases. Keep her quiet as you can for a few days and start her on soft meals whenever she’s ready. Other than that, she seems to be well on the road to recovery. I’ll stop back in tomorrow to check on her again.”
“Thank you.” Did that mean she was likely to still be here? Minnie drew in a deep breath and said baldly, “I can’t pay you.”
Dr. Grant’s eyes twinkled again.
“I mean...I will, of course.” She winced at her own ineloquence. “Just not right away. I have to find another job...and probably a new flat as well.”
“You’re not to worry about my bill.” He held up a hand to stop her. “I already knew something of your circumstances. It’ll all be taken care of. Now how are you doing? Mr. Brown said you’d gotten quite a chill.”
Minnie shook her head. “I’m fine.” It was reflexive, not to waste time worrying about herself. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m almost never ill. But then Ivy never has been before either, not like this.”
Dr. Grant pursed his lips. “Has anyone else been? A friend or family member? Someone she might have been exposed to? I can�
��t quite put my finger on her specific illness.”
“The school,” Minnie said. “She goes to a ragged school at the nearby church every day while I’m at work. She loves it there, but a few of the other children have gotten sick recently. I believed it was black lung, based on the way it was described. I don’t believe any of the children survived. It could have been something contagious, though.” The charity school had been Minnie’s salvation—someone to care for Ivy without taking half of Minnie’s wages.
“Well, that’s likely the case, then. Children seem to transmit such things like wildfire. Since she’s better now, I wouldn’t worry about it. Otherwise, she seems a very healthy little girl.” His eyes held praise and Minnie felt herself blush.
The doctor walked her down to the kitchen, where he took his leave through a connecting door to his own. Once it closed behind him, Mr. Brown gestured for Minnie to join him at the wooden worktable in the center of the room. “Tea? Or something stronger?” He gestured at an unopened bottle of brandy on the counter.
“Tea, please.” She slid bonelessly onto the bench opposite his. “The doctor says Ivy is going to be fine.”
“Very good.” He stuck another mug of tea under her hands along with a plate of toast. “Here. Did you eat?”
“No. I’m too exhausted to be hungry. But thank you.” She sipped the tea, strong and black this time. “The doctor said he’d like to see Ivy again tomorrow.”
He grunted. “I heard. Shouldn’t be a problem, should it? I don’t imagine your dress shop is open on Sundays.”
Minnie shook her head. “No. Doesn’t matter. They’ve turned me off anyway.”
“Well, no point worrying about that now. Go upstairs and get some sleep. We’ll sort things out tomorrow.”
He seemed fond of giving orders but she was too tired to care just now. “Thank you.” She’d repeated it so often it was like a church litany, but there was really nothing else to say.
He pushed away from the table and stood. “I’ll lock up, but I don’t have a spare key, so don’t lock yourself out or anything.” He pulled his cloak off the hook by the stove where it had been drying. “If you need something, help yourself, or knock on the kitchen door for Mrs. Parrish or her helper, Aggie. I suspect they’ll be up all night with that lot they have over there.”
“Where are you going?” Minnie paused with her mug halfway to her lips.
He grimaced. “If you remember correctly, we found a murdered young woman tonight. I’ve telephoned it in, but I need to get over there and get to work.”
“You’ll take care of Jane?” It was a comforting thought.
“Of course.” He gave her a nod. “If there’s real trouble, the telephone is in my study. Ring for the police.”
He had a telephone? Right here in the house? She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. It went with the steam car and the bathrooms and the powered icebox she could hear humming behind her. This wasn’t the extravagant home of a lord or a nabob, but it could have belonged to modest gentry or a well-heeled merchant. Not every street copper lived like this, but she supposed an army captain might.
This was a world, and a man, well outside of Minnie’s limited experience, although her own parents had been quite comfortably situated. Mr. Brown, though, seemed nothing like her father. What would he expect from Minnie in return for his kindness? She’d never known a man who didn’t call in his debts. She stared at the door, long after he’d locked it behind him. What sort of person was he, really, under that gruff but kind exterior?
His short dark hair held a hint of silver at his temples but his tidy mustache was untouched. Dark stubble covered his square jaw and chin, adding a rakish flair to his rough-hewn appearance. Even his slight limp didn’t impair his charismatic presence. He certainly didn’t look like someone who’d need to coerce a woman into doing anything. There were probably plenty of dreamy young ladies sighing over him. Minnie was not about to add herself to that number. All she felt was gratitude, not attraction.
Come to think of it, he might even have a wife. Why hadn’t that occurred to her before? He wasn’t young, and he could certainly afford to support a family. Of course, no one had made an appearance, so if he was married, his wife either slept soundly or was away from home.
Minnie turned out the gaslight and made her way back to the stairs while she pondered that. No wife, she decided. There were no pictures on the walls, no knickknacks on the tables, no fluffy little pillows on the chairs, yet there was an air of comfort about the place that belied the seeming austerity. The home was as masculine as the owner.
She made short work of washing up, then put on one of her own nightdresses before climbing into bed beside Ivy. A light kiss to Ivy’s forehead assured Minnie that the fever hadn’t come back. Ivy’s breathing was slow and steady, without the whimpers or thrashing of the last few days and nights.
It didn’t matter what Mr. Brown asked in return, Minnie decided as she dropped into exhausted slumber. Whatever it was, Ivy’s survival was more than worth the cost. If he did ask for her body, though, Minnie imagined she’d enjoy it more than she should. That thought terrified her more than the idea of vampyres had. She wasn’t a nun, but she hadn’t let her heart get involved since she was a girl. She wasn’t about to make that same mistake again.
Chapter Three
Seb saw the light burning in Mrs. Shaw’s window as he parked his car beside the curb, right behind a Scotland Yard black Mariah. A young constable tipped his hat, indicating he’d keep an eye on the car as well as the wagon, which was presumably here to remove the body of Miss Jane Albertson. When he walked into the flat, he stopped midstride at the sight of the man who leaned over the remains and ever so subtly sniffed.
“Sir? What are you doing out on a night like this?”
Detective Superintendent Sir Liam McCullough straightened and gave Seb a rueful grin. “Hullo, Seb. There’s no one else here, so you don’t have to Sir me. As to why I’m here? It was just my turn in the rotation, I’m afraid. I happened to be near the telephone when your call came in, so I came out instead of the precinct inspector.”
Seb shot him a skeptical look. Liam—Seb’s fellow inspector until six months earlier—was newly married, so he ought to be home with his young and beautiful, if slightly terrifying, wife. Besides, superintendents didn’t take turns covering night calls.
“All right, my wife’s been off helping her parents shift everyone to London for a while, and I couldn’t sleep.” Liam’s mouth quirked at one corner. “Thankfully, she’s coming home in the morning. It’s surprisingly easy to get used to having someone sleep beside you.”
Seb gave a brisk nod and turned his gaze back to the corpse. He remembered.
“Sorry, Seb. I’d forgotten.”
“No matter.” Seb’s problems were old and unimportant in the current situation. “I’m not sorry you’re here. This one is a bit of a puzzle.” He filled Liam in on what he knew of the case so far—even about the woman and child currently ensconced in his spare bedroom. “The two women worked for the same dress shop. So it could be something to do with that, though I’ve no idea how.”
Liam shrugged. “Must’ve been a really unhappy customer to find and shoot the hired help. Based on these rooms, they weren’t head seamstresses, but among the lower rank at the shop. On the other hand, women tell a lot of secrets in those little fitting rooms, or at least my wife tells me they do. Maybe someone whispered something they shouldn’t have and one of the workers decided to try a spot of blackmail.”
“That could be,” Seb acknowledged. “Though I don’t see Mrs. Shaw as the type. I didn’t sense any deception about her.”
“Well, that’s telling.” Liam ran his hand through his mussed hair. He was the only living man on the police force who knew Seb’s secret. Furthermore, he didn’t just know it, he trusted it. For that alone, Seb would have walked through fire for the younger man.
Of course Seb also knew Liam’s secrets. “What about you. Did yo
u...er...sense anything on the body?” As a werewolf, Liam possessed a sense of smell far beyond any human’s, even Seb’s.
Liam shook his head. “Nothing useful. She hadn’t been with a man recently, so it probably wasn’t a jealous wife or sweetheart. There’s no hint of alcohol or tobacco about the place—just illness.”
“That’s obvious even to me.” Seb studied the room, searching for the smallest detail that might point to the killer.
“Well, is it also obvious that the illness is...wrong somehow?” Liam’s nostrils flared in friendly challenge.
Seb tipped his chin, acknowledging that he hadn’t picked that up. “Wrong in that a little girl shouldn’t become deathly ill just from trying to breathe? Or wrong in some other fashion?”
“Both, although the former encompasses half of London and isn’t relevant to the murder.” Liam paced across the small room. “There’s something different about the scent—oddly metallic. It just doesn’t seem natural.”
“Interesting.” Seb stroked his mustache and moved to the bedroom door. Amidst the mess, he spotted a blackened, soot-stained sheet from the small cot. “When we got here, Ivy was covered head to toe in that black soot. Yet I can’t see how. Her mother said she’d been in bed for days. There’s no spill, out by the fire, and the hole where she hid was dusty but not black. It’s as if the soot just appeared on her body.”
“That’s odd.” Liam eased past Seb and lifted the sheet to his nose. “Yes. There’s definitely something strange going on. This is coal soot, but it’s not. The odor of sweat and something else is wrapped all around the carbon smell, as if it coated each microscopic particle. I wish Wink was here. She’d have a better idea of the science behind it.”
Ashes & Alchemy Page 3
