by R. J. Koreto
“Perhaps I should’ve picked another name, another place?” asked Mrs. Lockton. “I never thought I’d be subject to such an inquisition.”
“Oh, but it made a lot of sense,” continued Frances. “If you had said you came from a place you didn’t know, you could’ve been caught in a lie if you met someone who had actually been there. You did know Shropshire from your childhood visits, so you could talk about it with confidence. And the name—Emma Bradley. Your childhood playmate, a friendship your father ended. A memorial to the Emma Bradley who died as a little girl.”
Mrs. Lockton sighed and then smiled at Lady Frances. “I’m a little pleased it took a woman to find me out.”
“I’m a little pleased it was a woman who fooled me so thoroughly. So I think that’s all of it. And now to the conclusion. This started because I was engaged by a client to find her daughter. I’ve done that, so I made arrangements. Mrs. Lockton, I’d like to take you to meet your mother. Miss Lockton, Reverend Halliday, you have a grandmother. Also, Mrs. Lockton, I sent a note to your sister and her husband.”
That got Mrs. Lockton’s attention. “Sarah? You’ve seen her? How is she? I have missed her so much.”
“She is well. Happily married with two sons who are doing well. Her husband is someone important in the City.”
“I so wanted her to be happy. I read the social news regularly,” said Mrs. Lockton. “I saw she had gotten married but no other details.”
“If you read the Society pages, you know your father died some years ago. Your mother is alone and very old. The man who killed your first husband is behind bars and never will get out.”
Surely, you’re not going to be difficult now, thought Frances. You will agree to see your mother after all I’ve done, won’t you? Did Sherlock Holmes ever have to go through this?
“For uncovering my first husband’s murderer, I’m sure I owe you. Very well, Lady Frances. It’s time to see my family again.”
For the second time that afternoon, Frances relaxed. “I think this meeting is over then. I have arranged for transportation outside.”
Everyone stood a little unsteadily. Rusk was still looking at Mrs. Lockton.
“Helen?” he asked.
“I think Helen was dead and buried a long time ago, Gil. For the last thirty years I’ve been Emma, and before that, I was christened Louisa.” And then she gave him a full, warm smile that shed years from her. For a moment, Frances fancied she could see the beautiful young woman she had been. “However, if you would like, you can still call me ‘Helen.’”
“Then I shall. I married but am a widower now. I have two grown children. I would like to talk with you again.” Mrs. Lockton looked amused, then produced a card. “I run Lockton’s on Bond Street. I need a week to recover from this excitement, but after that stop at the shop at closing someday, and I’ll let you buy me a dinner. For now, I want to see my mother and sister.”
CHAPTER 33
Rusk seemed pleased with Mrs. Lockton’s response to his invitation. Mrs. Lockton, still leaning on the vicar’s arm, swept out of the office, making sure Susan was following her.
“Mother, were you really a celebrated actress?” Susan asked as they headed down the hall. Frances and Mallow hung back. Susan seemed more excited than scandalized.
“Imagine that, Mallow. Finding out that one’s dull and serious shopkeeper mother was once the toast of the London stage with dozens of men lining up to take her out to dinner.” Frances thought of her own mother, standing up to her father to allow her to go to Vassar in America.
“Certainly a surprise, my lady.”
“A good surprise or a bad one, Mallow?”
“I fancy Miss Lockton found her mother’s past . . . admirable, my lady.”
“I fancy you’re right. But Mr. Rusk, you look like you have a question?”
“A hundred, my lady. But one for now, if you please. You knew one of us had killed Helen’s husband and then Mattins. But you seemed to know it was Prescott, not me. I wondered why.”
“Oh, that was easy. I realized eventually it was an actor stalking me, one who was comfortable in women’s clothes. I thought of those early days, as you told me, when men played women’s roles. Which Prescott did once. And you’re not an actor, Mr. Rusk.”
He laughed. “I had hoped my warm and pleasing personality would have spoken for me.”
Frances laughed right back. “So much is made of the cleverness of women. Sherlock Holmes would joke about it, according to Watson, until he met his match in Irene Adler. But as a consulting detective, I have to deal with something more solid. Mr. Rusk, I owe you thanks as well as apologies for putting you through so much. I look forward to your next production. Mallow, we are off.”
They left Mr. Rusk in his office to contemplate his past and future. In the lobby, Marie was waiting for them, eyes sparkling.
“Pure genius, my lady.” She gave Frances a kiss. “Thank you for allowing me to be part of it.”
“Thank you for gracing us with your beautiful voice. We have another jujutsu lesson in two days. I’ll see you there.”
As they headed outside, Mallow asked, “Do you think Mrs. Lockton and Mr. Rusk will start a romance, my lady?”
“If I were a bookmaker, I’d be inclined to give short odds, Mallow.”
“My mother always said gambling was a fool’s game, my lady.”
“Especially when it comes to love.”
In silence, Frances and Mallow joined Mrs. Lockton, the Reverend Halliday, and Susan in a hired coach for the trip to Lady Torrence’s house. Once there, Mrs. Lockton headed directly up the front steps, her daughter close behind her. The vicar stayed back for a moment. “Lady Frances, Miss Mallow. God go with you always.”
He quickly joined the two women on the steps. The butler admitted them, and they disappeared inside.
A few moments later, an elegant new motorcar pulled up. A well-dressed woman—Lady Freemantle—let herself out without even waiting for the driver to open the door for her and ran as fast as she could in her dress. A moment later, she too had entered the house.
Looking a little amused, Lord Freemantle waited for his chauffeur and followed at a more sedate place. But then he stopped and turned to see Lady Frances. He gave her a welcoming smile and approached. He tipped his hat and bowed.
“So it is true, Lady Frances? My wife received a note saying if she called on her mother at this time, she would see her sister. I take it Louisa is now present in the drawing room?”
“Yes, Lord Freemantle. And Lady Freemantle will also be meeting a new niece and nephew.”
He arched an eyebrow. “I look forward to the whole story. Meanwhile, I’ve summoned both my sons, who are traveling to London as quickly as possible to meet their aunt for the first time. For now, Lady Frances, I just want to tell you how impressed I am.”
She gave him a cheeky smile. “Not angry? You bought an entire theatre just to stop this investigation.”
He shrugged. “I was afraid that Louisa would never be found and all that would be uncovered would be scandal. But in the end, seeing how happy this has made my wife, I would endure any amount of scandal.”
“Why, Lord Freemantle, I never thought City gentlemen could be so warmhearted. I am surprised.”
“Not as surprised as I am that a suffragist could be so coolly logical. Are you coming in, my lady?”
Frances looked wistfully at the house. “I do want to see the results of my investigations, but it’s a deeply private reunion.” Again, she wondered if Sherlock Holmes would’ve had such scruples.
“Oh, come, Lady Frances. You’re the last one I’d expect to stand on ceremony. You have a right to be there, and I’d expect by now the first tears are over. My mother-in-law will want to thank you.” He held out his arm. “Let me escort you in.” That was all the encouragement Frances needed. She took Lord Freemantle’s arm, and over her shoulder she whispered, “You come too,” to Mallow.
The butler let them in, and he
seemed calm enough. But Frances’s restless eye landed on the maid, Simpkins, the only servant still in the household who had known the young Louisa. Frances had thought her hard but saw the traces of tears on her face. Their eyes met, and Frances fancied she saw gratitude in them.
She saw more tearstained faces inside but smiles too. Louisa sat on the couch, flanked by her mother and sister, the Reverend Halliday seated opposite them looking half delighted and half bewildered.
Lady Freemantle saw her husband and said, “Come, dear, and greet your sister-in-law, niece, and nephew.” He was more than up to the task, despite the complex series of events that had led to this reunion, and he kissed the ladies and warmly shook Halliday’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to have the family together again,” he said.
Lady Torrence, meanwhile, looked up at Frances. “I am glad you are here, Lady Frances. My gratitude is more than I can ever express, and I know I speak for everyone in saying that.”
“I agree there with my mother,” said Louisa. “Despite my reservations, I am forever in your debt, to you and to Miss Mallow.” Louisa turned to her mother, and Frances saw a trace of the rebellious girl she had once been. “Dear Mama, has Lady Frances, London’s first female consulting detective, changed your mind about women’s place in the world?”
“My dear, I still have to say, no woman in this family has worked, especially not in trade. And now that I see I have a daughter running a shop and a granddaughter aspiring to be a dressmaker . . . I envy you both, choosing a life not open to me. We shall have a lady’s luncheon soon to discuss every detail of the business. I am consumed with curiosity.” Mrs. Lockton and her daughter smiled. And now Lady Torrence turned to her grandson. “And I am not leaving you out, Samuel. I am honored to have a vicar in the family. I shall be in your church next Sunday. My hearing is not what it was, so I expect you to speak loudly.”
“I shall see you there. I think for my sermon I’ll be drawing some lessons from my namesake, the prophet Samuel.” He looked up at Frances. “God has heard.”
Maids came in with refreshments, and Frances caught Lady Torrence’s eye once more before she and Mallow slipped away. The butler saw them out, and a few moments later they were back in their hired coach.
“Mallow, we have done something wonderful. But now our part is over. They will have to find a way to reestablish the family. We cannot help them with that; it is up to them. But they seem to be off to a grand start. We’re going home.”
“Very good, my lady.” They sat in silence for a while, each woman lost in her own thoughts. After a few minutes, Mallow brought up a new subject. “I fixed the hem on your blue dress if you want to wear it to dinner tonight.”
Frances squeezed her maid’s hand. “Thank you, Mallow. I’m sure that will be fine.”
She suddenly felt a little limp—so much time on the case, and now it was done! Frances was exhausted, and yet the whole day played in her mind again and again, the performance and its dramatic conclusion. Well, a return to normality might be just what she needed.
She had a pleasant surprise when they returned to the hotel, a note from Hal. “Mr. Wheaton is having me for dinner tonight, Mallow.”
“Very good, my lady. The blue dress may not be elaborate enough. Perhaps the green, which shows off your hair so nicely. Speaking of which, for your hair, I thought we would—”
“Very well, I’ll submit. But then you’re off for the evening, and I’ll have a little something else for you in this week’s pay. Stage managing is not in your term of service, so you deserve something extra.”
“Thank you, my lady. I assume our theatrical careers are over. But if your ladyship ever wants to produce a motion picture, I will of course support you in any way I can.”
Frances always liked to think that it was hard to surprise her, so she later excused what happened by telling herself she was physically and emotionally drained after a long day. When she was admitted to the Wheaton house, she was stunned into speechlessness at seeing Hal saying good-bye to Winifred Elkhorn in the foyer.
“Frances! I’m pleased to see you again,” said Mrs. Elkhorn. “I hear word that you have been up to some remarkable things. I must be leaving, but I look forward to hearing more about it when next we meet.” She gave a sidelong glance at Hal, who was looking on with a benevolent smile. “Meanwhile, I’ll let Mr. Wheaton tell you why I was here. Mr. Wheaton, thank you again. Frances, until our next meeting.”
“Well?” said Frances when she and Hal were alone.
“Well, what, my dear?” said Hal with that same bland smile, hiding secrets. “Some sherry before dinner?”
“Hal, be serious.” She followed him into the library, where he poured drinks. “Why was the president of the League for Women’s Political Equality here?”
“Franny, she is your mentor, but that doesn’t mean I can’t talk with her too.”
“Hal. This isn’t funny.” She knew she was being unreasonable. Hal was entitled to meet with whom he pleased. So was Mrs. Elkhorn. But her mentor and her fiancé meeting in secret without telling her? She couldn’t bear not knowing. She couldn’t bear Hal’s secretive smirk—the reminder that, for all he was an amiable suitor, he was also one of the most distinguished solicitors in London, a shrewd thinker, and a keeper of secrets.
“Of course not. It’s legal business, and legal business is never funny.”
“So you’ve taken Mrs. Elkhorn on as a client?”
“I couldn’t tell you. My client list is private. You know that. But you’re partly right. Here’s some very good sherry. Sit and sip it while I try to satisfy the curiosity of the insatiably curious Lady Frances.”
“Very well. But I’m only being nice because I still feel bad for inadvertently leading a criminal into your house.”
Hal laughed, poured drinks, and sat down opposite her. “Franny, I’ve been thinking about us, our engagement and eventual marriage, and your desire for a partnership where we are together and equal. To that end, I invited Mrs. Elkhorn here to volunteer my firm’s services to the League, giving your organization free legal advice. I’ll be working with your dear friend Thomasina Calvin, who I understand supervises research activities, and her constant companion, Gwen Kestrel.”
After Frances got over her shock, her first emotion was anger. How dare Hal do this without talking to her? How dare he intrude on what was hers? But no, he was right. A marriage of true partners. She’d have to start thinking less of his and hers than of theirs. Mrs. Elkhorn knew that; that’s why she looked amused when she departed. She probably knew my first reaction would be anger, thought Frances. But after all, I did bring a criminal into his house—what will be our house. We are tied together more than I realized.
She took a deep breath to control herself and had some sherry. “This is what you said you were secretly working on when we dined at Simpson’s, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. You were concerned that your staid husband would be sitting in his office growing increasingly frustrated that you were getting yourself into all kinds of trouble. Well, dear Franny, let’s get into trouble together.” He looked at her closely. She was still frowning, and he frowned too. “But did I guess wrong? Does this have to be something separate for you? Perhaps, then . . .” His voice trailed off as he apparently grew afraid of what her answer might be.
Frances shook her head. He was trying hard. This was a major step for a man in his position to tie himself to the suffrage movement. She had underestimated him. Again. Marriage would be a risk but not half the risk of running away from home and becoming an actress. How Mrs. Elkhorn would laugh at her if she shied away from this one.
She gave Hal a broad grin. “No, Hal. You are absolutely right. I’m just wondering who will bail us out of jail if we both get into trouble.” And at that, Hal laughed and took her in his arms.
Well, Louisa Torrence managed to forge a life on her own terms, Frances thought as she kissed Hal. And I shall too.
CHAPTER 34
It was
n’t until the small hours that Hal saw Frances into a hansom. Thoughts continued to race through her head, shifting from Hal to the family reunion at Lady Torrence’s house and back to Hal.
The night porter let her in, and Frances found herself looking forward to the sameness of her routine. Mallow, despite instructions to go to bed, was no doubt gently napping in a chair in their sitting room with her knitting in her lap, waiting for her mistress to come home. She’d help Frances get out of her dress, they’d have a quick argument about brushing out Frances’s hair, which Frances would lose, and then she’d read for a few minutes before going to sleep.
But the day had one more surprise for her.
“You have a visitor, my lady,” said the porter. Hearing voices in the foyer, a man was already stepping out of the lounge. It was her brother, Charles, in military uniform. The last thing Frances wanted that night was an argument with her brother, but there was no avoiding it.
“Charles. Everything is well? Are you off to war again?”
“No. A regimental dinner. Franny—”
“Was Mary with you?”
“No. It was a dinner for officers, not the annual regimental ball. Franny—”
“Because she needs to be careful in her condition.”
