A Kiss Across Time

by Louise Allen

  The front door slammed, then the drawing room door was flung open. James stood there, white-faced, Garrick behind him. ‘He’s dead, Luc.’

  ‘Who?’ Luc took him by the arm, steered him into a chair while I sloshed brandy into a glass and passed it over.

  ‘Philip Talbot,’ James said, his teeth knocking against the rim of the glass for a moment before he steadied his hand. ‘Lying there in the middle of his consulting room, head smashed in with a poker, blood and brains all over a very nice Chinese silk rug.’ He stopped abruptly and took another gulp. ‘Sorry, Cassie.’

  ‘That’s murder,’ I said. Whatever else having one’s head broken open with a poker was, it wasn’t suicide or accident. ‘Hell – George’s note.’

  ‘Oh, God. Philip – what have I done?’ Luc quoted, looking sick. ‘He killed Coates and then hanged himself?’

  Garrick poured more brandies, including one for himself, handed them round, topped up James’s glass and we all sat down in a silent, horrified semi-circle around the cold hearth.

  ‘Timing,’ I said after a gulp of spirits had cleared my throat. I hadn’t known George, but he had been James’s friend and I wanted to get that look off his face. ‘We need to establish timing. One ambiguous note isn’t proof of anything.’

  James gave himself a shake. ‘Yes. Timing.’

  ‘Did you see the body? Was the blood dry?’

  ‘It was dry.’ His voice was steady now. ‘But sticky.’ He held up his right hand, the palm revoltingly stained. Garrick was out of the door and back with a bowl of water and a cloth within moments while the three of us just sat and stared at the reality of a brutal death.

  ‘Not dry, then,’ I managed, not looking at the pink swirls in the water as James washed. ‘How warm was the room?’

  ‘It is part of his house, but with a locked door between,’ James said, tossing the towel aside. ‘He uses the rooms on one half of the ground floor and there’s a separate entrance for patients at the side. I do not know how it is heated but it must have been warm – it didn’t strike me as cold, or too hot.’

  ‘Was he stiff?’

  ‘I don’t…’ He frowned, thinking. ‘No. Yes, a little – but not stiff like George was. I grabbed his shoulder – he was face down – pushed him onto his side. I mean, it was hopeless, you only had to see the back of his head, but I had to be certain. His arm almost flopped.’ He looked up, round at our faces. ‘But that means he was killed after George. George did not do it.’

  Chapter Three

  Everyone looked so relieved that I felt a complete heel, but I had to say it. ‘It looks as though Philip died after George but we can’t be certain. Temperature, state of health, how much exercise the person had just before death, how they are killed – it all makes a difference. We need more evidence. Who found him?’

  ‘I did,’ James said. ‘Along with his manservant. I called on the Coroner, saw his officer and gave him Luc’s card and the news about George. He said he’d deal with it all, so I went straight on to Philip’s house to break it to him. I went to the front door, of course, and his man hadn’t seen him today, said he must have been working in the consulting rooms since early. Apparently he often did that. There’s a connecting door between the main house and that section and it was locked, as usual, but the man had a key to be used only in emergencies. He seemed concerned that Talbot hadn’t rung for coffee yet.

  ‘When I told him I was there because of a death, and when our knocking didn’t get a result, he got the key. Then – ’

  ‘No, wait.’ Lucian held up one hand. ‘Who else knows?’

  ‘No-one. I told the man I’d come here and consult you. Fortunately he was in no state to deal with things and he kept repeating that there would be dreadful scandals and he would be in trouble with important people if information about Doctor Talbot’s patients got out. I told him to lock up again, make himself a strong cup of tea and I’d come back with help. In fact I’ve got the key, although it probably isn’t the only one. He’ll sit tight and keep quiet and let us handle this, I hope – he’s in a state of virtual collapse with the shock.’

  ‘What scandals?’ I asked, confused. I salved my conscience over being part of covering up a murder with the thought that we’d solve it later, find out who killed the doctor – and just pray it didn’t involve friends of James.

  ‘He was a man-midwife. An accoucheur,’ Lucian said. ‘He dealt with pregnancies amongst the ton, the wealthy, the influential.’

  ‘Plus abortions, illegitimate babies, nasty diseases and births where the dates don’t quite add up,’ I said, catching on. ‘Of course.’

  ‘We need to search the house,’ Lucian said. ‘Even if it has nothing to do with his death, there might be evidence there that could ruin lives. Garrick, we’ll need you too.’

  ‘Sandwiches,’ I said plaintively, as we went in search of the outdoor clothing we had only just removed. ‘Please? We need to take food with us or I am going to drop in my tracks.’

  ‘I have a basket, Miss Lawrence.’ Garrick, already in hat and caped driving coat, passed me as I came out of my bed chamber. ‘Fortunately there were pies and fruit to hand. My lord, I will fetch the carriage, you will not wish to rely on hackneys, I believe.’

  Luc, who had stopped in front of me, grunted an acknowledgement as Garrick opened the front door. ‘I shouldn’t allow you come with us.’

  ‘You take me to see one corpse, but not another?’ Allow me? We’ll see about that…

  ‘I was taken by surprise by you arriving. I shouldn’t have even considered it this morning.’

  ‘Luc, I have expertise that you lack, simply because forensic science has developed a great deal by my time,’ I said, hanging on to my temper. It wasn’t his fault, I reminded myself and tried to imagine interacting with someone from two hundred years in my future in the middle of a crime scene. ‘I am just going to have to ask you to deal with me on my terms, not yours, and I realise that isn’t easy.’ Lucian had been raised to be a Gentleman (capital G) and in the belief that Ladies (capital L) were fragile creatures to be respected, sheltered and looked after – not educated, employed for their talents and respected for their independence. I suspect that he was still reeling from my revelation last time that we’d had two female Prime Ministers.

  ‘Seeing justice done, protecting James and his friends – ’ I could only hope those two things weren’t mutually exclusive ‘– that’s what is important,’ I persisted. He nodded sharply, reluctantly, and we turned for the door that James had left open behind him. ‘I’m far from an expert, but I’m the best you’ve got.’

  Luc cupped one big hand against my cheek. ‘Yes. You are the best I have got.’ His eyes, usually so bright, were seagreen-mysterious and dark now. ‘The very best.’

  I put up my own hand to cover his. ‘After my father you are the most important man in my world. Either world.’ And that scared me. What did I see in those intense eyes? Desire, certainly. I had no idea how to cope with anything else.

  ‘Tonight,’ Luc said. Then, before I could respond, ‘The carriage will be here now.’

  Tonight, what? I wondered as we rattled off, Garrick at the reins, the three of us inside passing meat pies and the men trying not to wince when I swigged from my bottle of ale. Tonight we make love? Tonight we discuss making love? Tonight…

  ‘Have a curd tart,’ James said, effectively squelching the erotic thoughts breaking through my defences.

  I was brushing off the crumbs from the second tart by the time we drew up in front of an elegant Town house. It was double fronted with a narrow alleyway to the side and an even narrower sunken area in front that was more a light-well behind iron railings than a service area.

  ‘That’s the patients’ entrance.’ James pointed to the side. ‘We will go in the front door.’ He led the way up the steps, rapped on the knocker and used a key without waiting for it to be answered. ‘Don’t want to give the poor devil a heart attack.’ He raised his voice. ‘Bromley
!’

  A door creaked open and a man stepped out. ‘Yes, sir.’ The manservant was short, perhaps five foot six, dark and dapper, although now, even without a hair out of place, he looked somehow dishevelled. His narrow face was pale and his mouth worked a little, as though he had something stuck in a tooth and was trying to dislodge it discreetly. ‘No-one has called since you left, sir.’ There was a tremor in his voice and now I saw him more closely I suspected he’d been crying.

  ‘And you have stayed where I left you?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Franklin. I took the liberty of pouring myself a small brandy to steady my nerves.’ The dark, red-rimmed eyes darted to Lucian and me standing at the front door.

  ‘This is the Earl of Radcliffe and you have no need to know the lady’s name.’ James turned to his brother. ‘Where do you want to start?’

  ‘With the body,’ Luc said as he put hat and gloves on the hall table and shrugged out of his coat. The manservant moved automatically to take it. ‘Bromley, are you expecting any other staff today? Cleaning maids? The cook?’

  ‘No, my lord. I cook – cooked – for Doctor Talbot. The cleaning women come in every other morning and that was yesterday.’

  ‘Right. Give us all the keys you know about, then go to the kitchen, get yourself something to eat and make me a list of everyone you can remember calling here in the past three months.’

  The man swallowed visibly. ‘Tradesmen as well, my lord?’

  ‘Everyone.’ Lucian took the bunch of keys he was handed, then watched Bromley out of sight. ‘That will keep him quiet and help him calm down. Lead the way, Jas.’

  A door from the hall opened onto a tiny lobby with two doors. James opened the one directly ahead and we found ourselves in what looked like a small but fashionable drawing room, albeit one with a desk. There were unchallenging paintings on the wall, tasteful drapes drawn across the window, a chaise longue and several upholstered, but upright, chairs. It was not until I looked closely and saw the pretty screen to one side, the height of the chaise, that I realised that this room would also function for examinations.

  The surface of the desk was clear except for the inkwell and pen tray and there was no sign of any disturbance in the room except for the body on the floor and the disgusting mess surrounding its head.

  Doctor Talbot lay where James had left him, half on his side. He was a tall, slender man who had once had a fine head of thick fair hair. Perhaps in life he had been handsome. Now his eyes were open, his mouth gaped. I moved to one side away from that cold blue stare and tried to assess the scene professionally. It was less than easy with a churning stomach and a faint buzzing in my ears.

  ‘There’s the weapon, I would guess.’ I pointed to the poker lying half on the hearth, half on the carpet. Its head was stained dark and, as I moved closer, I could see blond hairs stuck in the dried blood and matter. ‘Even so, better check.’ I picked it up, reminding myself that fingerprinting was still in the future, and brought it over to the body. As Lucian turned the head I laid it against the clearest of the wounds. ‘It fits.’ I put it back and kept myself turned from the men until I had the urge to lose my belated lunch under control.

  ‘We need to leave everything as near to how you found it as possible,’ Luc said to James. ‘But we’ll search him first.’

  I left them to it and began to study the room. Paperwork was what we needed to find and check and the first place to look would be a safe. Did they have wall safes in 1807? I checked behind all the pictures, tried to shift the furniture that was against the walls, found nothing. There was no bookcase in the room, so that left the desk, but the drawers were unlocked. I found stationery, ink bottles, spare pens, headed paper for invoices, sealing wax and two volumes on gynaecology. A quick glance inside made me wince. I gave them a good shake, to be on the safe side, but all that fluttered out was a blank prescription form. Then I took out each drawer and checked underneath it.

  ‘Yes.’ When I had them all out, knelt down and looked inside I could see a small key hanging on a nail. At full stretch I could just reach it.

  The two men looked up as I pushed back the final drawer. ‘Nothing on him,’ Luc said. ‘James, we need to turn him so he is as he was when you found him.’

  That was easy enough. His hair had dried into place and the marks on the carpet showed where to put his head. There was a knock on the door and Garrick came in.

  ‘Garrick, have a look at this. Does it seem as though he’s been moved?’

  ‘A fraction, my lord. But it would be expected that would happen if whoever discovered him checked for signs of life.’

  I held up the key. ‘Look what I’ve found.’

  ‘Ah.’ Luc stood up and took it from me. ‘Cupboard, I’d say.’

  ‘Not in here – but there’s the other door off the lobby.’ That was unlocked and when we went through it was clear that we were in the doctor’s working office. There was a simple desk, a comfortable chair, several bookshelves full of medical texts and a large double-fronted cupboard with solid doors.

  The key fitted. Inside were rows of ledgers with red morocco spines embossed with numbers impressed in gold. We each slid one out and began to flick through them.

  ‘This all seems perfectly innocuous,’ I said after several pages. ‘Obviously the ladies concerned wouldn’t be happy to have their medical records read by all and sundry, but I can’t see anything the slightest bit dubious here. Names, dates, brief medical notes, outcomes. Date of invoice and date of payment. Not how doctors would organise records when I come from – there would be files for each patient and then separate business accounts.’

  ‘Cross-referenced here,’ James said. He’d taken a ledger from the lower shelf. ‘Names and then volume and page numbers which must refer to those you’re looking at. Dates accounts sent, dates payments received.’

  ‘It is all secure, but not hidden,’ I said, checking another volume. ‘Nothing to worry about here.’

  ‘So, we discover what has been hidden,’ Luc said.

  It took half an hour but eventually Garrick found it, a concealed cupboard betrayed by the merest hint of a crack in the panelling. There were six volumes inside.

  ‘Code,’ James said in disgust, flicking through. ‘All numbers.’

  ‘We’ll take the lot,’ Luc decided, heaping them into Garrick’s arms. ‘You carry these out the back way to the mews. ‘The rest of us will lock up, go back to the main house and, so far as our future evidence is concerned, will decide that we have waited too long to give Doctor Talbot the bad news about Coates and will prevail on Bromley to open the door.’

  ‘Find body, shock, horror, rush for help,’ I summarised. ‘But do we need to check in his bedchamber in case of personal papers?’

  ‘Yes. You and James do that, I’ll go to the Magistrate. This is murder, so I believe he takes precedence over the Coroner.’

  ‘Are you all right?’ I asked James as we went upstairs.

  ‘Yes.’ It was clearly a lie. He was worried sick, grieving for his friends, appalled that George might have murdered his lover and, although he hadn’t said so, he must be anxious that his involvement did not draw attention to himself and his own dangerously illegal lifestyle. I didn’t say any more, he was probably mortified at showing any weakness to a female as it was.

  We searched thoroughly and fast. James found a small packet of letters and I jammed them into my reticule without either of us reading them. There was nothing else we could find that looked the slightest bit incriminating and we were back downstairs in the private part of the house, sitting solemnly either side of the drawing room hearth when the Magistrate, accompanied by two constables, arrived.

  Luc showed them in. ‘My brother, Mr Franklin and our cousin, Miss Lawrence who, most unfortunately, was with us when we made the discovery.’

  He shot me a very pointed look and I put a hand to my face and quavered, ‘It was terrible.’

  James passed me a vast white handkerchief and I took refuge beh
ind it while the Magistrate made the vague clucking sounds of a man confronted by inconvenient feminine weakness but who wouldn’t have the ladies react in any other way.

  ‘Will you be all right here by yourself for a few moments while James and I take Sir Montague through, Cousin Cassandra?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ I murmured. I mopped at my eyes and smiled bravely until they had gone, then I dug my notebook and pencil out and began to jot down questions.

  James came to fetch me after about ten minutes. ‘We’ve been pushed out,’ he said. ‘Probably a good thing – it shows he doesn’t think our involvement suspicious. Garrick’s bringing the carriage round and Luc’s giving Bromley a bit of a bracer.’

  The bracer turned out to be a gold sovereign accompanied by strict instructions to answer the questions he was asked by the Magistrate, but not to reveal that he and James had found the body first, not to speculate and to come to Albany if he thought of anything else.

  ‘I thought of something,’ I said. ‘Could he hear anyone coming to the patients’ door? Was there a knocker or a bell and was it audible in the residential part of the house?’

  ‘There was a bell, I asked,’ Luc said. ‘And yes, it rang in the house as well. But if someone knocked, it couldn’t be heard on that side.’

  I made a note against the query in my book. ‘And was there an appointments book?’

  Again, Luc nodded. ‘On the desk in the inner office. I looked through. Nothing for last night or this morning. Other appointments had names against them, all quite open, it seemed.’

  ‘No numbers, like the coded book?’

  He narrowed his eyes, thinking. ‘No, nothing like that.’