“How are you so sure he won’t come after you for them?”
“He won’t. The hospital board would pull him from the payroll if they knew such workmanship took place.” Ainsley shook his head, still disbelieving he had met such a character.
“I’d suspect he’s behind these murders if he weren’t so damned incompetent,” Ainsley said once they were far enough away from the hospital’s front doors. The suggestion was almost laughable until Ainsley really thought it through.
“Think of it this way, he kills one, almost gets caught,” Ainsley raised the file in the air slightly, “so he decided to head to London where things are more ubiquitous.”
“Ainsley,” Simms spoke as if doubted him.
“It’s less than half an hour by train, many workers take the train daily to London for work. You heard the nurse yourself, he’s hardly there. Why, I’m surprised there’s enough dead people to keep an undertaker in business here.”
“I suppose it’s possible,” Simms said.
“He has no connection to the children,” Simms interjected.
“That would be better, don’t you think? Considering what he did to them?” Ainsley exhaled and slipped his hands deep in his pocked. “Perhaps I only wish it were Dr. Ferris behind it all. Think how much closer we would be to apprehending this monster.”
Simms grew quiet. It was no secret he had little experience with such criminals, and Ainsley’s training never touched upon the reasons behind death as much as it did with the methods. Together they made an unlikely pair, less adept than others to the task before them but never once had they tried to shirk their duty. Each step brought them closer but never quite close enough, always leaving their quarry one step ahead.
“We will get him,” Simms said, breaking a steady silence. “He can’t hide from us forever.”
Ainsley shook his head, giving the detective a sideways glance. “I can’t let anyone else die,” Ainsley said, his voice hinting at defeat, “not because of my inability to decipher the clues.”
Chapter 21
Shall strain your powers.
By the time Margaret reached Marshall House her tears had dried. She donned a stoic expression, determined to betray nothing, and instead would deal with the emotional pain later. Within a few hours’ time she’d be host to a house full of society elite and could not risk greeting attendees with puffy eyes and a red nose. With a clenched jaw, Margaret pulled the hatpin to remove her hat and allowed Maxwell to take it from her.
“Good afternoon, my lady,” he said with an overly obediently bow.
Margaret smiled, nodded, and walked past him, her silence merely a means to keep her emotions from pouring out freely.
“Everyone is on task for the auction this evening,” he explained as she approached the stairs. “Miss Julia has everything well at hand.”
“Send her up to me,” she said, not wanting to look him in the eye. “There are further items we need to discuss.”
Looking over her shoulder, Margaret saw Maxwell bow before scurrying off to find her lady’s maid. It was too soon to tell whether he could fill the void Billis left behind. Peter had said he was the most qualified, but his appropriateness for the house was yet to be seen.
Margaret did not need to wait long for Julia. A few moments after she entered her bedchamber Julia stepped in with an excited expression on her face.
“Well, Lady Margaret,” the maid started happily. “What did he say?”
Margaret shook her head, at first having no idea what her maid meant, until her thoughts untangled themselves. She closed her eyes, and turned her head slightly, horrified at her own forgetfulness. She had gone to see Jonas to ask him to be the auctioneer for that evening. She had put off her request too long but truthfully the week had been so very busy she hadn’t had a moment to stop by. She could have sent a note but she really needed an excuse to visit him in person. She never thought he would refuse, but she hadn’t thought him to be so loose with his affections either.
“I’m sorry,” Margaret breathed. “Something came up and I was unable to ask him.”
Julia nodded, but Margaret could see the maid was trying to suppress hints of panic.
“Peter will do it,” Margaret said quickly to allay her fears. “He’d do anything for me.”
Julia nodded and walked the length of the room toward Margaret. “You look tired, Miss Margaret,” she said softly.
Margaret slipped into the chair at her vanity table. Leaning into the table, Margaret brushed loose strands of hair from her forehead. “I don’t know how I shall do it,” Margaret said, thinking ahead to the evening in front of them. “Everyone will be looking to me as hostess but I haven’t the faintest clue how to perform my task. Mother may not have enjoyed society but she had always been there for such things that were unavoidable. I don’t know how I shall do it without her.”
Julia drew near and began pulling the pins from Margaret’s hair, knowing it would have to be restyled before the arrival of her guests. A young lady does not wear the same hairstyle in the evening as she would during daylight hours.
“You are not without her,” Julia said solemnly. “She is with you. Always.”
Margaret smiled at this and then wiped a threatening tear from her lower eyelid.
“Did you know your mother?” Margaret asked daringly.
“Yes, for a brief time,” Julia explained, brushing Margaret’s long brunette locks. “I only have a brother’s love now.”
“A brother? A real one?”
Julia chuckled. “Yes, Miss. His name is Robert. We were brought to the orphanage together. He has a wife and daughter now and they live in Aldsgate.”
“Oh.”
The pair grew silent as Julia concentrated and Margaret pondered her new discovery. It had never occurred to her that Julia should have a family.
“You know then about what’s been happening,” Margaret ventured to ask, unsure of how such a topic would upset her, “at the orphanage?”
“Yes ma’am,” Julia answered quietly. “I know.”
Margaret watched Julia’s eyes close briefly, as if holding back tears, and decided to change the subject.
“How are you liking Mr. Maxwell?” Margaret asked, reaching across her toilette table for a canister of skin cream.
“He seems to be a nice man,” Julia said. “An agreeable person. A fair butler.”
“I believe he fancies you.”
Julia nodded, but kept her attention on Margaret’s hair. “I have noticed, ma’am.” Julia retrieved the silver brush from Margaret’s table and began to slowly run it through Margaret’s hair.
“Do you think you could like him?” Margaret asked, trying hard to be nonchalant but fearing she was failing dreadfully. She’d like to think of herself as above such prattle but after her morning of heartbreak she was looking for something which would allow her to believe in love again.
“I don’t think so,” Julia answered, avoiding Margaret’s gaze completely. “Besides, I am not sure if your father would like me entertaining such ideas.” Julia gave Margaret a half-smile through the mirror.
There was a knock on the door and Violetta slipped in a moment later. “There is a gentleman here to see you,” she said, standing just inside the entryway. “Dr. Davies, I believe.”
Margaret’s heart sank. She didn’t believe she had the strength or courage to confront him so soon. Not enough time had passed for her to formulate her argument. Her tears had barely had enough time to dry and her resentment had only just begun to slip away.
“Show him into Father’s study. I’d afraid all the other rooms are occupied for the auction,” Margaret explained as she rubbed some cream into her cheeks. “I will be down momentarily.”
Violetta nodded and left.
With a long exhale, Margaret squared her shoulders and looked determinedly at Julia through the glass. “Make me stunning, Julia,” she said with a smile.
“Her ladyship does not need my help, in that
regard,” was Julia’s flattering reply.
A short time later Margaret left her room and headed downstairs, all the while cursing Jonas’s poor timing. She’d have to speak to him while dressed in her blue satin evening gown and elbow-length gloves while he very well could be wearing bloodstains on an otherwise unremarkable suit. It was not that she minded his trade. She rather admired him for it. Her discomfort stemmed from the fact that the division between their classes could not be ignored. Taking a meeting with him under such conditions only highlighted that reality all the more.
“Sorry for keeping you waiting,” she said as she entered. “We are rather busy preparing for the charity auction.”
Jonas had been leafing through one of her father’s books when she entered. He looked up when she spoke and stood frozen for more than a moment, watching her as she crossed the room toward him.
“You wished to see me,” Margaret said, attempting to end the silence.
“Well, yes,” he stammered, replacing the book on the shelf. “You look wonderful.” He took a step toward her but she turned, taking a few paces from him before turning back to face him.
Miss Ivy’s words trolled through her head, reminding her that her heart was to be broken, and so it had, but also that she would survive. Her anger toward Jonas thickened but her resolve to overcome the obstacle matched it.
“Like I said, we are very busy.” Margaret raised her gaze with an air of challenge.
Jonas nodded and placed his hands in his pockets. “I only...” He let out a breath. “You didn’t give me the chance to explain.”
Margaret shrugged, trying hard to calm her heart, which roared inside her chest like a steam engine. “It’s a bit self-explanatory, isn’t it? The fault is entirely mine. Serves me right to disregard a reputation that has been rightfully earned. I should never have expected anything different from a rogue like you.”
“I suppose I deserve that—”
“And a hell of a lot more!” Margaret took a few steps toward him. “I should have cast you out of here and told you never to come back.”
Jonas looked up, his gaze unrelenting. “But you didn’t.”
Margaret lowered her shoulders. She could feel her emotions wavering between seething rage and irrepressible sadness. A single tear spilled out onto her cheek and Jonas took a step forward. Margaret put her hands up as if to prevent his touch and moved away toward the door.
“I’m asking you to leave,” she said as she opened the door to the foyer.
Ainsley was pulling off his overcoat and handing it to Maxwell when Jonas begrudgingly exited the library.
“What brings you here, Jonas?” Ainsley asked as he approached them.
Margaret did her best to ignore her pain while she smiled at her brother. Jonas looked to her; she could feel his eyes on her, as if asking what to say, but Margaret refused to look at him.
“I wanted… Margaret asked if I could attend her event this evening,” he lied, “but I’m afraid I haven’t the appropriate attire.” Jonas gestured to his standard day suit and gave an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid I should go.” Jonas patted Ainsley on the arm and slipped past him for the door.
“Well, what about Father’s closet? Or my own?” Ainsley called after him. “There’s no reason you should miss out on that account. I’m sure between the two of us we can create something suitable.”
Jonas looked to Margaret again, who was altogether too shocked to reply.
“I’d hate to impose.” He looked to Margaret, imploring for guidance, but she could not bring herself to return his gaze. “Why not?” Jonas said suddenly.
Margaret could feel him looking to her as he followed Ainsley up the stairs.
“Are you all right, Lady Margaret?” Maxwell asked.
Pulled from her stunned silence, Margaret smiled and nodded. “Yes,” she answered quietly, “Please go help Dr. Davies.”
With the butler gone, Margaret turned, cursing herself for not speaking up and cursing Jonas even more for ruining what had started as an exciting day. Her guests were set to arrive within the hour and here she was fighting the urge to crumple into a heap on the floor.
There would be others, she told herself, as there always had been. Men more deserving would find her and seek her affection. Men who would honour their unspoken commitments even if they never said the words out loud. Jonas had made her feel as if there were some unspoken agreement, some promise that one day he would seek approval from her father. Margaret brushed her gloved hand over her forehead. She chuckled at her own folly. Her father would never have approved. It was bad enough Ainsley wished to work in trade; he’d be damned if his only daughter married a tradesman.
In the end, it is better this way, she told herself. At least only her heart was broken, and she needn’t have bothered her father at all.
Margaret drifted into the library, where tables had been set up displaying the items that would be up for auction. Here, the guests could hold the items and look at them closely before bidding started. The room was a testament to her mother’s life with an assortment of antique tables and vases, jewellery and hatpins. Between Margaret, Ainsley, and Daniel a few items had been claimed as sentimental but most, at least most of the items housed at Marshall House, were allowed to go up for auction. As Margaret surveyed the items, sometimes flipping over Julia’s neatly written tags on each, she realized the monetary difference her event would make to the orphanage and she was so very glad of it.
In the dining room the silver trays sat polished and the china dishes stacked. All manner of delectable food was being prepared in the kitchen and would soon line the sides of the dining hall, which would allow guests to enjoy a bite or two while the auction progressed. Margaret had arranged to let chairs from a nearby hotel, and these had been lined up in rows in front of a podium set up at the back of the dining hall, where the auctioneer would stand.
All of the household staff, fluttering about with an air of anticipation, looked like toy soldiers in Margaret’s army, all adorned in their best livery and smocks, freshly pressed and smelling sweetly of sandalwood or lavender. It had been some years since Marshall House played host to an event such as this and Margaret wondered if the staff had missed the excitement of it.
“Everything looks wonderful, Margaret dear.”
Margaret turned to the sound of Lady Brant, who had entered the room.
“Your mother would be very proud.”
It was rare for Lady Brant to offer compliments and so Margaret knew her words were genuine.
“Come now,” Lady Brant said, offering the crook of her arm. “I saw some other carriages pulling up. We shall meet your guests at the door.”
Chapter 22
Ideal sweetnesses shall over-glide you,
Resumed from ours.
Bethany Brundell completed her task exceedingly well. Margaret only recognized half of the people who stepped into the foyer but all seemed ready to share remembrances of her mother. Margaret greeted them gleefully, leaning into numerous kisses on the cheek and shaking countless hands. Every available staff member was on hand taking coats and hats while Margaret directed guests to the library, where they could survey the goods for auction.
There was a lull in the arrivals, long enough for Margaret to place a hand on her stomach and exhale. She looked behind her to Julia, who clapped her hands excitedly, though soundlessly, at the turnout.
“I shall make a few turns,” Lady Brant said discreetly as she leaned into Margaret, “to remind everyone to loosen their purse strings for the charity.”
Pleased she would not have Lady Brant attached to her side, Margaret nodded and Lady Brant followed a group as they filed into the library.
When Evelyn and Daniel walked in Margaret abandoned her proper composure and rushed toward them. “I am so glad to see you,” Margaret said, pulling Evelyn in for a hug. When she pulled back she looked Evelyn over from head to toe. She did not bear any resemblance to a woman recovering from surgery, c
ertainly not the invasive surgery Ainsley had been forced to perform on her. “I was not sure you were up to it yet,” Margaret said, suddenly regretting her exuberant greeting.
Evelyn smiled, and gave a glance to Daniel. “I’m still not quite but I convinced him to come for your mother’s sake.” Daniel sneered at the mention of their mother and Margaret thought it best if she pretended not to notice.
“I will instruct Cutter to retrieve a chair for you from the parlour, something more comfortable.”
Evelyn nodded her thanks and turned to allow Daniel to pull her cloak from her.
“Evelyn. Daniel.” Ainsley came down the stairs, dressed in a fine evening suit complete with coattails and a sleek top hat. Trailing behind him, Jonas as well was dressed smartly in a suit almost identical to what Ainsley wore. He held his hat in his gloved hands and looked nervously to Margaret, who could see how uncomfortable he was.
“Took a little bit of doing,” Ainsley explained, gesturing to Jonas’s new attire, “Father’s shirt, my vest and jacket. Maxwell loosened the hem an inch or so but I’d say the finer things suit Dr. Davies rather well.”
Jonas straightened his stance, as if suddenly realizing everyone was looking to him.
Margaret thought she ought to say something complimentary though she felt nothing but contempt for the man. He should have refused Ainsley’s offer to dress him and left. Any other gentleman would have made an excuse on the spot, knowing how infuriated Margaret was with him. But then it occurred to her that any true gentleman would not all but take a solemn vow and then break faith by seeking the affections of another woman. It needled her greatly to have him there, reminding her how close she had come to aligning herself with the man. Even so she could not deny how becoming he was in coattails. Women flocked to him for a myriad of reasons, the most obvious of which was his devilishly good looks.
“You look rather handsome,” Margaret said, unable to stop herself.
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