by C. J. Archer
"Frets?" Mr. Woolley asked with a tilt of his head.
"Aye, sir. She gets all shaky and whimpery like a puppy without her master."
A puppy without her master! I refrained from rolling my eyes, just.
"I see," Mr. Woolley said.
"She's a good wife," Matt went on. I was beginning to think he was enjoying this. "Agreeable and eager to please." He was definitely enjoying this. "I don't like that in a wife so much, though. Prefer me a fiery girl to a meek one, but I can't cast my Anne out for being what she is, and what she is is silly in love with me. Ain't that right, Anne?" His beard twitched with his smirk.
Well. Since he wasn't afraid of being recognized, I wouldn't be either, although I kept my face averted. "I didn't know you liked your women-folk fiery, William," I said, matching Matt's accent as best as I could. "Now that I do, things'll change." I took his hand and led him up the stairs past the others. "First up, you're going to take that job in the sewers what you turned down, then you're visiting the barber with your first wages and shaving off that ugly beard."
We marched down the corridor and out through the women's dormitory then the men's. We left Mr. Woolley and the constable behind, but Matron kept up. Perhaps she wanted to make sure we well and truly departed. We'd left our lamp behind in the cellar but it didn't matter. All that mattered was our freedom.
"Good riddance," Matron said as we descended the front steps to the street. The door slammed behind us.
Matt circled his arm around me and drew me into his side. He chuckled softly and kissed the top of my head. "Well done, Mrs. McTavish. That was quite the performance."
I should have pulled away but did not. It felt warm against his body, and safe. "My accent was awful. I'm sure they'll realize and come after us at any moment."
His arm tightened and his quiet laugh echoed in the foggy air. "With a name like McTavish, we should have tried a Scottish accent. Next time."
"My acting talents do not stretch to Scots. I'll have to pretend to be mute."
"Then I won't get the pleasure of your biting wit. You managed to put me in my place with a few choice words."
"I'm not sure Matron appreciated my outburst. I swear her lips pinched so hard they almost disappeared."
"Matron has very odd ideas about men and women. She'd probably faint if she interrupted us actually fraternizing."
"I don't know if anything would make Matron faint. She seemed rather stoic. I wonder if she blushes."
"Her cheeks wouldn't dare."
I laughed and he squeezed me again. His pace slowed, and I glanced up at him only to see him turned toward me. It was too dark to make out his expression, thankfully. I didn't want to see his desire. I'd made my mind up to dissuade him from liking me in that way, but so far I was doing a terrible job of it. Indeed, how could I dissuade him when I enjoyed being with him? That mountain seemed too high to climb right now with my blood thrumming from the excitement of the night and our closeness.
"India," he said, all seriousness. Too serious. He touched my jaw and angled my face just so. Then he brushed his lips against mine.
I pulled away. I needed to fill the silence but I couldn't think of anything to say. I wasn't sure I could speak anyway. My body trembled and my voice would too, betraying me. I could not let him know my true thoughts on the matter of us being together. Not yet. Not until he was well enough to walk away from me and from England.
Thank god Cyclops moved out of the shadows and opened the coach door. Both he and Matt sat with me inside. I did not try to talk to either man and avoided looking at Matt the entire journey.
He spoke quietly with Cyclops, telling him how we'd fared at the shelter. There was no laughter in his voice now, no sense of fun or adventure.
Duke drove directly to the mews. I waited as Matt and Cyclops helped him and the sleepy stably boy unhitch the horse in the coach house and settle it in the stables.
"Well?" Duke asked as we trudged back to the house. "Did you find Wilson's name in the records?"
"No," Matt said.
Cyclops lifted the lamp to see our faces. "Want to try another shelter?"
"I don't see the point. Finding out about Wilson isn't going to help us find the killer or the diary."
"Unless the killer murdered Dr. Millroy in retaliation for experimenting on Mr. Wilson," I said. "And Wilson's records point us in the direction of his previous address, and any family he may have had."
"He had no family or friends," Matt said. "So Chronos believed."
"Ain't that a sad state," Duke murmured.
"Chronos could have been mistaken," I said.
"I doubt he was." Matt kicked the cobblestones. "It was a pointless exercise. I wish we hadn't bothered."
Cyclops and Duke exchanged glances then looked to me with brows raised in question. I merely forged ahead.
We entered the house via the basement service entrance. Duke was about to shut the door when a man carrying a lamp descended the steps from the street level.
"Wait for me." It was Willie, not a man. She grinned at us and slapped Duke on the shoulder in a friendly greeting.
He stepped aside to let her through. "You're only getting home now?"
"Aye, and that ain't your business, Duke." She pushed past him and hooked my arm with hers. "How'd your investigation go?"
"We learned nothing about the vagrant," I said. "Where have you been?"
"Here and there."
"Playing poker?" Matt asked.
"Didn't I just say it were none of your business?" she said hotly. "That goes for all of you."
"It is Matt's business if he has to get you out of trouble again," Duke shot back.
"I ain't gambling." She strode ahead, her lamp swaying with her steps. "Christ, can't a woman do nothing around here without everyone poking their goddamned noses in?"
Duke made to go after her but stopped. "She's right," he said to me. "It ain't my business if she's got herself a man."
I walked slowly with Duke as Matt and Cyclops said their goodnights and headed off with Willie. "Are you sure it's not your business?" I asked him gently.
He merely shrugged. "It ain't like that between us."
"It could be if you told her how you feel."
He shook his head. "I can't. I don't even know how I feel."
"Try to explain it to me then. It might help you work out how to approach her."
"Let's see." He blew out a breath. "She's frustrating and irritating. She says and does foolish things that make me want to yell at her one second and kiss her the next."
I smiled. "So you desire her."
"I s'pose. But what would happen if I did kiss her? Everything would change between us, that's what. I don't know if I want it to change. I like the way we've always been."
"You're just afraid of being rejected. Or perhaps you're afraid of change."
"Could be. I didn't want to leave America because I was worried about being out of place here. And now I'm here, I don't know if I want to return."
That was quite a statement, and not one I expected to hear from any of Matt's party. They always seemed so determined to return home as soon as Matt's watch was fixed.
"I don't like the thought of her seeing another man," he added. "I hate that she's sharing secrets and jokes with someone else. It's always been me, see. We've been friends forever." He sighed. "Guess I always thought I was the most important man in her life, aside from Matt. Now…now I may not be, no more."
Poor Duke. I tucked my arm through his and rested my head on his shoulder. "You should tell her this."
"She'll laugh at me or tell me I'm being a sop." He did have a point. "India…will you find out if she's got a man? She might talk to you."
"I'll try, but if she confides in me and asks me not to tell you, I have to abide by her wishes." I patted his arm. "Anyway, anything's possible with Willie. For all we know, she could have been anywhere from watching a prize fight to a play."
"Then why the secrets?"
>
I asked Willie the following morning after a late breakfast but she refused to tell me a single thing about her nocturnal excursion.
"Tell Duke to mind his own business," she said. She also blushed. I took that as confirmation that she had indeed had a liaison with a man. I did not inform Duke.
I offered to stay with Miss Glass and not visit Mrs. Millroy with Matt, but he would have none of it. "I know you want to come," he said.
"Yes but I ought to spend time with your aunt. She seems lonely. And what if she wanders off again?"
"She won't, because she's not going out with my Aunt Beatrice again. I've asked Willie and Duke to take turns sitting with her. They also need to interview a new coachman. There's a man coming today. Cyclops will drive us."
Dr. Millroy’s widow lived only a few minutes away by carriage. We could have walked but Matt used the excuse of the incessant drizzling rain to drive. I did wonder if he simply wanted to spend as little time with me as possible after the awkwardness of last night's journey home. Conversation was stilted between us, and it ground to a complete halt before we arrived.
I found it difficult to even look at him. It was hard seeing him still so tired, even after sleeping for several hours, but it was even harder facing him knowing that he had feelings for me.
Me!
I'd lain in bed, tossing and turning as I tried not to picture myself walking down the aisle toward him. Tried and failed. It was impossible not to dream about a life with him and impossible not to be thrilled that he might want it too. Impossible not to be sad that it would never happen.
"We can do this without feeling awkward around one another," Matt said, interrupting my self-pitying.
I nodded and smiled. "Of course we can. We have an important task at hand. Will you try to charm her or will I try to comfort her?"
"We'll see how she reacts when we mention the mistress."
I wasn't looking forward to that part.
Fortunately, Mrs. Millroy lived in the same house she'd lived in during her marriage to Dr. Millroy. Chronos had given us the address but he'd not checked to see if she still lived there. Her house was located in an area known for high rents and within easy walking distance to her deceased husband's surgery on Savile Row. I was pleased to know she hadn't been forced out due to reduced circumstances following his death.
"Are you Mrs. Millroy?" Matt asked the slender, well-dressed, gray-haired woman who opened the door upon his knock.
"Yes. And who are you?" Her rounded vowels reminded me of Miss Glass and her ilk. She dressed like Miss Glass too, in a well-cut tailored day dress that showed off her cinched waist and narrow chest. She made me feel plump by comparison.
"My name is Matthew Glass and this is my partner, Miss Steele. We're private inquiry agents assisting the police in the matter of your late husband's murder."
A pronouncement of that magnitude, made so many years after the event, would have sent me reeling if I were in her position. But she merely lifted one thin, patchy eyebrow. "I see."
Matt smiled but it wasn't convincing. He already knew his charms wouldn't work on her. "May we come in, Mrs. Millroy? This isn't a matter for the front porch."
She responded to his more business-like approach by opening the door wider. Inside, it wasn't much warmer than out. No rug covered the blue and white tiles in the entrance hall and the fireplace in the sitting room was clean of ashes. Someone had sat in here very recently, however, if the dirty teacup on the table and blanket tossed over the chair arm were an indication.
Mrs. Millroy folded the blanket and invited us to sit on the faded sofa. Like the entrance hall, the sitting room was rather bare. Aside from a lovely Wedgewood vase, the few other knick knacks looked like the sort one could buy from a barrow in Petticoat Lane. "I would offer you tea," she said stiffly, "but my housekeeper has the day off."
She'd given her the day off mid-week? How generous. "Mrs. Millroy, we know these questions will be difficult for you," I said, "but we have to ask them."
"Why? Why do the police want to find out who killed my husband now? He died years ago."
"It's something they do from time to time."
"Nonsense. I am not a fool, Miss Steele." She may look thin and old but she had a sturdy mind and spirit. It would take more than two people asking questions about her husband's death to knock her off balance.
"Someone has come forward with new evidence," Matt lied.
"What evidence?"
"We're not at liberty to say, but Commissioner Munro doesn't have the staff to send a detective so he asked us. We've assisted him on other investigations with some success."
Her nostrils flared. "So that's how much significance he lends to my husband's murder, is it? Not enough to send his detective, but just enough to pass the problem on to someone else. I assume he hopes you'll find nothing and James's death will once again be confined to the archives where it gathers dust with the hundreds of other crimes that go unsolved in this city." She clicked her tongue. "Typical."
"We can see that it upsets you," I said gently. "And rightly so. It must have been an awful time and the lack of resolution means you've not been able to grieve properly for him."
She barked out a bitter laugh. "Is that a joke?"
"Er, no."
"Miss Steele." She angled her knees toward me and clasped her hands in her lap. "You are correct in that it was an awful time, but not because of my husband's murder. That almost came as a relief."
I leaned forward, as intrigued as I was appalled. "Go on."
"I know you already know, so there is no need to pretend ignorance. The police found out all the sordid facts. They even suspected she did it at one point, but they told me they had no proof. Perhaps I was even a suspect. I ought to have been, but they did not tell me so."
I did not tell her that she was one of our suspects still.
"You're referring to your husband's mistress," Matt said. Thank goodness he took over the conversation because I felt quite unable to confront her about it now that the time had come.
She gave a stiff nod.
"You were questioned at the time of his murder," Matt went on. "Indeed, it was you who mentioned he had a mistress and son, but you didn't say how long you'd known about them."
"I suspected for some time but only knew for certain a month before his death."
"How?"
"He told me." She smoothed her hands over her knees. "Well, I confronted him and he told me. He often came home late from his rooms. That was nothing new. Then he started coming home smelling of expensive perfume. Not every night, but enough to cause suspicion. I didn't confront him immediately. I assumed it would stop of its own accord. It was not the first time I suspected him of having liaisons with trollops, but this time…well, the perfume was always the same."
"How long did you wait before confronting him?" I asked.
"More than a year. When he began denying me certain things, that's when I decided enough was enough."
"Denying you?" Matt prompted.
"New curtains, a holiday at the seaside, the best cuts of meat, that sort of thing. All of a sudden, we seemed not to have enough money. So I asked him outright if he kept another woman. He told me he did, and that she had recently given birth to a son." Her shoulders sagged, but just for a moment then she quickly recovered her erectness.
"You have no children of your own," I said gently.
"That is neither here nor there. The fact is, my husband kept another house and another family."
"Do you know their names?" Matt asked.
"He took that information to his grave. Not even his lawyer knew."
"The child was not provided for in his will?"
She thrust out her chin. "Why should he be? He was not James's legitimate child. He has no claims to anything. I do." She once again smoothed her hands along her skirt. "Anyway, James didn't leave much in his will. It's my assumption that he spent a lot on the woman before his death. So perhaps you ought to look there for
his murderer, Mr. Glass."
"I would, but I don't know where there is."
"As a private inquiry agent, that is your job to find out."
"Why would she kill him if he was giving her money?" I asked. "It doesn't make sense."
She lifted one shoulder. "Perhaps he was going to leave her. Perhaps he was seeing someone else, or she was. Or perhaps they argued about any number of other things. There are many reasons, Miss Steele. If you put your mind to it, you might come up with some all on your own."
I bristled. Well there was no need for rudeness.
"What else can you tell us about the night of his murder?" Matt asked.
"Nothing. I was here, as I told the police."
"Dr. Millroy was found in Bright Court, Whitechapel. Do you know why he was there?"
"No. He had no clients in Whitechapel, no friends or acquaintances that I knew of. I can only speculate that he was visiting his mistress and child. Either that or he kept another secret from me. Perhaps you ought to ask the residents if any remember him."
"We have."
She raised her brow. "And?"
"And our inquiries continue."
Her gaze narrowed. "I would like to be kept informed of anything you learn."
I was inclined to tell her no, but Matt got in first. "We'll be sure to inform you of anything that you need to know."
Her lips flattened. It wasn't quite what she'd asked for, but he'd worded it so that she could not argue.
"Does the name Nell Sweet mean anything to you?" Matt asked.
Her eyes flashed. "Is that her name?"
"What about Chronos?"
Mrs. Millroy stiffened.
"The name is familiar to you," Matt went on.
"Yes," she said. "Of course it's not his real name. I only knew him as Chronos. He was a watchmaker and an acquaintance of my husband's. Do you think…" She shifted her weight in the chair. "Do you think he had something to do with James's murder?"
"No," I said at the same time Matt said, "Possibly."
I glared at him but he ignored me. He looked directly at Mrs. Millroy, and she looked straight back as if his gaze mesmerized her.
