“I am assisting an inspector,” Ainsley answered, raking his hand through his hair, “On a murder case.”
Lady Brant raised her eyebrows, her interest piqued.
Margaret walked around the table and reached over the body for Ainsley's notes. The paper had a few smears of blood, as if his hands had been marred by the body he was handling. As Margaret began to read them Ainsley noticed what she had taken. “They are just notes.” He snatched them from Margaret and turned from both women.
“I had not realized bodies were used in such a way,” Margaret said, pulling back the sheet, her curiosity getting the better of her.
“Oh yes, Margaret,” Lady Brant chimed in. “Doctors are granted a special privilege, are they not Peter?”
Ainsley nodded but he knew Lady Brant was doing him a favour. He was not sure how the other doctors would view his experiment. Most would have been keen to use whatever bodies they could find for medicinal purposes, including their own medical training, but with the changing views of society at large, he was not sure his tampering with a non-bequeathed body would have been acceptable. Lady Brant's explanation to Margaret showed Ainsley that she was on his side, and would cover for him if the need arose.
“So let's see this murdered soul, shall we?” Lady Brant breathed deeply, her curiosity overriding her sympathy.
Ainsley led them to the body of the brunette. “I was told she was identified as Lady Charlotte Marshall,” he explained, as he began to pull back the sheet.
Margaret took in a quick inhale of breath. “Peter!” She raised her hand to her chest.
“When was this?” Lady Brant asked.
“Two days ago,” Ainsley said. “Before we knew.” He pulled back the sheet, revealing the woman's face and upper abdomen.
Lady Brant clicked her tongue and shook her head. “And that Margaret dear, is why I do not trust law enforcement. This girl looks no more than twenty years old. Look at her. And your mother is far more beautiful.”
Margaret nodded, but Ainsley could tell she was reluctant to speak. She appeared out of place and was clearly disturbed by the thought of the body belonging to her mother.
“You can imagine what a shock it was,” Ainsley explained.
Margaret shook her head in disbelief. “Oh Peter, how wretched.”
Lady Brant leaned over the abdomen and looked at the gash that was the women's death sentence. “What did it? A Knife?” she asked.
Ainsley shrugged. “That's what I was trying to determine,” he said. “We found these in her letted room.” He indicated toward the unorthodox puzzle of mirror pieces. “I thought one of them might be the murder weapon.”
Lady Brant and Margaret were quick to look away from Lady Marshall's look-a-like and surveyed the mirror pieces. “Any more pieces?” Margaret asked, she enjoyed a good puzzle just as her brother did.
Ainsley shook his head. “I plan to match my data with the size and shape of her wound—”
“What's this?” Margaret asked, pointing to one of the pieces. Ainsley approached her.
“What?”
“That right there. It looks like an etching.” Margaret held up the piece of glass for them to see.
Peter leaned in and Lady Brant brought the light closer. The three of them crowded around, peering at one triangular piece. “It looks like a circle,” Lady Brant said. There was no piece beside it, one of the missing pieces held the rest of the design.
“It's a petal,” Margaret said after careful study. “Like in a flower. I am sure of it.” Ainsley grabbed for the piece and carried it to one of the floor to ceiling windows at the side of the room to be held up to sunlight for closer scrutiny.
“How can you tell?” he asked.
“It's a tear drop shape,” Margaret explained. “If you were a woman you would see it. The most commonly etched design is of flowers.”
Ainsley returned to the table and replaced the shard. “You, sister, are a genius.” He planted a forceful kiss on her forehead and walked away. He removed his apron and grabbed his coat.
“Peter, where are you going?” Lady Brant asked.
“To tell Inspector Simms,” he answered with a broad smile on his face.
Chapter 12
See! Our friends are all forsaking
The wine and the merrymaking.
Ainsley returned to the house late that night and found Daniel in the parlour enjoying a cigar. The sight of him there at their family's home at such a late hour, and not in his newly built home caused Ainsley to start. “Is everything all right, Daniel?” he asked.
“Why shouldn't it be?”
“Has Evelyn called it off then? Is that why you have come?” Ainsley found himself surprisingly giddy at the idea of Evelyn coming to her senses and not marrying his brother.
Daniel scoffed and drew from his cigar. “Certainly not,” he laughed. “My house is a quagmire of dust and noise. I have decided to remain here until that dirty business is at an end.” Daniel eyed Ainsley suspiciously. “I must say brother, your excitement at my possible misfortune is rather disconcerting.”
“Not excitement,” Ainsley lied, “surprise.”
Daniel nodded, though he appeared unconvinced.
“You said so yourself, Daniel, the marriage was not your idea.” Ainsley poured himself a drink of scotch before taking a seat in the chair placed before the fire across from his brother.
“That is true,” Daniel conceded. “If our parents are any kind of example, I doubt marriage is a good prospect for anyone. Why should I feel excitement for something that has the potential to cause me such pain?”
Ainsley had never heard his brother speak like this before. Daniel was always the businessman with a stoic, unmovable outlook on life as being nothing more than a string of business opportunities; he surprised Ainsley by speaking, for once, from his heart.
It pained Ainsley to hear his brother so defeated though, before vows were even exchanged. It did not seem right for Daniel to view marriage so harshly, to see his future so drearily. Ainsley felt it was his duty to say something to lift his brother's spirits and so he too disregarded his own, sometimes brash, exterior and spoke a truth he had always held inside.
“You should be excited brother,” Ainsley began, “because the same potential exists for greater fulfilment than you or I could ever imagine,” he finished with a breathy air.
Daniel fell silent at this and the two brothers stared blankly into the fire for some time as it crackled before them.
Their reverie was soon interrupted by the door opening behind them. In stepped Billis, a tray in his grasp and a young woman trailing closely behind him.
“A meal for you sir,” Billis said, placing the tray on a table beside Ainsely. “Miss Margaret made special arrangements for your meal.”
Ainsley saw his brother smile, almost mockingly. “Who's the young lady, Billis?” Ainsley asked, peering around the butler to the woman carrying the tea tray.
With the tea tray in front of her, her slight form was exposed revealing a tightly fitted bodice that narrowed at the waist before becoming a wide flowing skirt. She was young, perhaps twenty, with a mass of long wavy hair the colour of cinnamon which had been pinned into a tight bun as befit her uniform. Her skin was pale, perhaps made to look even more so next to the deeply rich colour of her hair. With flawless skin and plump pink lips she appeared to be just the type of girl Ainsley found himself drawn towards. But she was a servant and for all that, she was protected by her position.
“This is Miss Julia Kemp, sir,” Billis spoke with his hands clasped behind his back and he moved at the waist shifting from the young Marshall men to the young woman as he spoke. “She is to be Miss Margaret's new lady's maid.”
Ainsley and Daniel exchanged intrigued glances, raising eyebrows in surprise. When Ainsley looked back to the woman she was looking at him. He smiled but it quickly faded once he saw the flirtatious look on his brother's face.
“Lovely,” Daniel said, a hint of lau
ghter on his lips, which caused her to become shy and drop her gaze to the floor.
Ainsley lowered his voice and directed his words to Daniel. “Margaret functions rather well with just one of the house maids to assist her. I wonder why Father chose now to hire a dedicated lady's maid?”
Daniel twisted his mouth into a half smile and turned to his cigar. “Perhaps it has something to do with your little sojourn to the country,” he suggested looking at his brother.
Ainsley decided to ignore his brother’s taunts and instead raised his head to address the butler. “Billis, surely serving tea is not part of her expected duties?”
“I asked for her assistance since all of the other maids are busy preparing food for tomorrow's event,” Billis explained. He turned to the young lady as she placed the heavy tray on the table next to the fireplace but close to the brothers. “You may return to the kitchen once you are finished serving the tea,” Billis told Julia before turning to leave.
“So Miss Julia,” Daniel ventured devilishly, despite the disdainful look Ainsley was giving him.
Daniel was watching her intently as she gracefully lifted the china teapot and began pouring tea. It was a look that made Ainsley a little more than uncomfortable. He could only imagine how the girl must have felt. “Are you from the city?” his brother asked, an internal laugh threatening his attempts to remain serious.
“Do not embarrass the girl,” Ainsley pleaded. “You know she is not permitted to speak to you unless necessary.” Daniel raised his cigar to his lips but continued to look at the girl. Ainsley realized then that his brother did not care if he embarrassed the girl, not as long as there was sport in it.
“She could speak, if she would like,” Daniel prodded while grinning.
Her face remained unchanged and she continued with her chore.
Ainsley saw her swallow hard, obviously trying to keep her composure. He saw the cup and saucer shake slightly in her hand as she crossed in front of him to present Daniel with his tea. When she turned back to her tray she kept her eyes to the ground and wiped her palms on the sides of her skirt. She glanced to Ainsley briefly as she passed. Clearly his brother's attentions were unnerving her. He made a point to look her in the eyes when she approached him with a cup and saucer, and smiled warmly, hopefully giving her some measure of comfort.
She took a step back, straightened her skirt demurely and stared at the empty space between the brothers. “Will that be all, my lords?” she asked.
“Perhaps,” Daniel smiled, “you'd like to help me draw a bath this evening, since everyone else seems to be occupied.” His smile became crooked, as if he enjoyed her failing attempts to hide her shock.
“Oh Daniel, that's enough,” Ainsley said, unable to stand the awkward exchange another moment. After giving his brother a long, disapproving glare he turned to Julia, “Thank you, Julia.”
Her expression was stoic but it was her eyes that betrayed her despair. They glistened in the firelight, highlighting the lower lids as if she could cry at a moments notice. She turned as soon as she was dismissed and Daniel's subsequent bemused laughter turned Ainsley cold despite the hearty fire.
Like a king on a throne demanding the jesters to dance, Daniel looked to others, the staff mostly, to provide him with entertainment, most often at their own expense. He must think himself witty, Ainsley thought, using his words to unsettle the female servants and watch them blush. Perhaps he fancied himself good looking, or desirable and took their shocked expressions and shifting gazes as confirmation that they found him irresistible.
In any case, there was no need to cause young staff members to cry. He was being a bully and Ainsley felt no better, as though being there made him a party to the rude behaviour. For the most part he had just sat there and watched.
Ainsley sprung up from his chair suddenly and followed her. At the back of the house there was a long, narrow passageway that led to the stairs to the kitchen. It was here that he caught up with her.
“Julia,” he said, reaching a hand to touch her shoulder. She swung around and he felt a sharp, stinging pain on the left side of his face. She had hit him, closed-fisted and she looked as if she was ready to run but her hands went up to her gaping mouth.
“I am so sorry, Mr. Marshall,” Julia said, her shock evident.
Ainsley nursed his cheek for a moment, the stinging continuing with the pressure of his hand. “I should not be sneaking up on you.” He lowered his hands and noticed a slight ringing in his ears. It was a solid hit and no doubt her palm was on fire from the impact. When his eyes went to her hand he saw her shaking it, giving him reason to believe his guess was right. “Are you okay?” he asked. He held out his hand, offering to examine hers but she stopped short.
“I thought you were the other Mr. Marshall,” she explained. She looked down the hall to the kitchen stairs.
“I only came to apologize,” Ainsley said, struggling to keep her attention. “He won't be living here for much longer and...” his voice trailed off at the sudden appearance of Violetta at the top of the kitchen stairs. Her arms were weighed down by two buckets full of steaming water. She approached them and they pulled to the side of the hallway to allow her to pass.
“My mother is having another bath?” Peter asked Violetta as she passed.
“Yes, my lord,” Violetta answered with only the slightest movement to meet his gaze as she passed.
Ainsley did not bother to hide his annoyance. His mother demanded an impossible standard of living. He was sure Violetta would collapse before long.
“Excuse me, my lord, I must return to the kitchen.” He turned to see Julia drop a slight curtsey before turning. As he watched he saw her hand raise to her cheek, as if wiping away a tear.
“No wait.” He didn't dare touch her again but she turned at the sound of his voice. It was undeniable. She could barely hold in her emotions though she tried valiantly. She avoided his gaze, letting her eyes gloss over and then dropping them slightly to the floor.
“If my brother has upset you,” Ainsley said daring to take a step closer, “I can speak with him, tell him he is not to address you again.”
The tears came then, steady and unmistakable. Ainsley pulled his handkerchief from his breast pocket and offered it to her. With a shaky, uncertain hand she accepted his silk hankerchief and used it to dry her cheeks and eyes. “Thank you, my lord,” she said, her voice vibrating with either sadness or worry. “Will you tell His Lordship of my indiscretion?” she asked, sniffling slightly as she tried to hand back his dotted handkerchief.
Ainsley shook his head. “No, you keep it,” he said. “There is no need to speak to my father, but you shouldn't be put off by my brother. If he rattles you again I have no doubt you could defend yourself.” He raised his hand to his pulsing cheek and laughed slightly. “Who taught you to hit like that?”
She did not smile but rather returned to her statue-like exterior, using a unique ability to freeze her features and remain aloof. “Tonight was not the first night I have met men like your brother.” She nodded and bending slightly at the knees in a curtsey turned to head down the stairs to the kitchen.
Ainsley decided his brother was a brute, inconsiderate and reckless. He was no longer the harmless flirt Ainsely grew up believing him to be, after that evenings' exchange he realized that his own flirtatious nature was nothing in comparison to Daniel's domineering ways.
Ainsley liked women, but only bothered them as much as they were willing to be bothered. He never teased or set out to embarrass them as Daniel had done to Julia. He suddenly became very fearful for Evelyn who would be celebrating her engagement to Ainsley's beast of a brother in less than a day. Ainsley thought he should warn Margaret, perhaps ask her to be more sympathetic to Julia and perhaps watchful. There was no telling how his sister felt about being assigned a lady's maid. When he went to her room to speak to her, he could not ask because she wasn't there.
Chapter 13
We are call’d–we must go.
<
br /> Margaret stood under the curved brick archway that framed Jonas' front door and released the iron knocker, satisfied with the deep base sound which signalled her arrival. She glanced back to Jacob, her family's carriage driver, who stood next to the duo of horses. He looked at her with concern, no doubt questioning why she would request to come to such a place. Bonnington Square was not the sort of neighbourhood the Marshall clan was accustomed to visiting. Though pleasant enough with its two storey row houses adorned with symmetrical arch windows and walled gardens, Margaret could have no doubt that her extravagant carriage had attracted a certain degree of attention from the middle class families who lived there.
Margaret tried to look determined, if only for Jacob's sake, though she began to wonder herself whether she had made the right choice.
“Perhaps we should come again in the morning?” Jacob offered. Margaret did not reply.
“No one is at home, my lady,” Jacob said, a trifle more panicked this time. He eyed the windows above them as if he were embarrassed to be seen in such a place. Most likely he was embarrassed for her, not realizing she had business with the occupant.
After another knock and a brief moment of waiting she almost resigned to leave, imagining Jonas back in his gambling den at the cards table. But then the door opened swiftly, catching her off guard. Startled she raised her gloved hand to her chest and inhaled.
“Jonas!”
Her surprise made her sound breathless, providing a cover for the real shock of seeing him with his shirt unbuttoned. He was hastily buttoning up as he stood before her. “My apologies,” he said out of breath. Leaving the last two buttons undone, he raked his hands through his hair and smiled.
“I did not mean to interrupt,” Margaret said, feeling heat rise into her face. It was anger more than embarrassment and it took all of her composure not to completely berate him. She wondered what he could have possibly been doing without his shirt on at such an early hour of the evening. Despite the fact that a winter night had settled, she had been careful not to call too early. She knew he was with a girl, a tart of some sort, the type of conquest that he and Peter always seemed jocular about whenever they were in each other’s company.
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