by C. J. Archer
"Not mine," Matt said.
"Not yet."
"Anything interesting in the other letters?" Cyclops asked. "Anything from back home?"
"Or from Patience?" I asked.
"Just one from Commissioner Munro." He opened it. His face remained impassive as he read. "He's summoning me to his office tomorrow morning."
"Should we be concerned?" I asked.
"It's likely he simply wants an update. I'll write a brief report this evening and we'll take it to Scotland Yard before we visit Lady Buckland."
"But we don't know where she lives."
"Who is she?" Willie asked.
"Millroy's mistress. India will fill you in," Matt said, rising. "I'm going to ask my aunt if she knows anything about the mysterious merry widow."
Ten minutes later, Matt returned looking rejuvenated. He must have used his watch in his absence.
"You're smiling," I said, smiling back. "So Miss Glass knows her?"
"She does. She is still styled Lady Buckland, having never remarried. Apparently she's rich and lives not far from here, preferring the city to her country estate. According to my aunt, Lady Buckland had quite the reputation and still manages to have the odd dalliance with younger men."
"But she must be old now," Willie said.
"Old ain't dead," Duke said.
"She was very much the subject of gossip twenty-seven years ago," Matt went on, "but is now simply considered an eccentric and largely ignored."
I leaned back and contemplated my sherry. "I find that a little sad. To be talked about in a poor light is not particularly nice, but to be completely ignored is perhaps even more upsetting."
"To some," Cyclops agreed. "To others, going unnoticed would be a blessing."
Matt picked up his glass and held it to his smiling lips. "I'm looking forward to meeting her."
I grinned. "That's because you're a handsome younger man. I will definitely leave the interrogation of Lady Buckland to you."
Commissioner Munro was not alone in his office when his assistant led us through. Detective Inspector Brockwell stood by the window, his oversized jacket open at the front, revealing a stained waistcoat. The two men could not be more dissimilar. The older, gentlemanly Munro was all distinguished authority, in his smart uniform, whereas Brockwell looked like he'd slept in his suit and forgotten to comb his hair. Their twin gruff expressions matched, however.
"We've been receiving complaints about you," Munro began.
"Good," Matt said, not bothering to take a seat. "Upset people means we're closing in. Who has complained?"
Munro clasped his hands on the desk in front of him. "That's not something I'm at liberty to divulge."
"Tell me how your investigation fares," Brockwell said, punching out the consonants.
"It fares well," Matt said.
"I'd like more detail."
Matt handed his report to Munro. "It's all in there."
I knew it wasn't all in there. He'd left out the parts pertaining to magic and Chronos's involvement in the experiment twenty-seven years ago.
Munro signaled to Brockwell to read with him. "Remain here," Munro said to us.
"We can't," Matt said. "We have an appointment."
"Unless it's with the queen or prime minister, I don't care. Sit."
Matt pulled out a chair for me. I sat but he did not. Five minutes felt like an hour. I could no longer stand it after three so pulled out my watch. The smooth silver case warmed to my touch, just a little, but it was enough to soothe my nerves.
Finally, Brockwell straightened and Munro set the report down on his desk. He removed his spectacles and regarded Matt. "You seem to be following a number of lines of inquiry."
"Yes," Matt said. "I won't speculate on which is the more likely outcome, if that's what you're asking."
"Not at all. I don't like my detectives to have an opinion until they're in possession of all the facts."
"In that case, India and I have to go now." He held out his hand to me and I took it.
"Just a moment." Munro tapped the report with the glasses. "There's no mention of the man named Chronos in here."
Matt's fingers tightened. I dared not look at him for fear of giving anything away. "Chronos?" Matt asked.
"Don't play the commissioner for a fool," Brockwell said. "We know you are aware of him."
"It seems you've been talking to Abercrombie. Since you know about the difficulties we've had with him in the past, you won't be surprised to learn that he's trying to upset India. Let me assure you, gentlemen, we have not met the fellow named Chronos. He is linked to this investigation through the experiment he conducted with Millroy years ago. I don't know his real name and so can't attempt to trace him."
"What of the suggestion that he is Miss Steele's grandfather?"
If they knew that then they certainly must have spoken to Abercrombie or someone from the guild. Mrs. Millroy didn't know Chronos was my grandfather, and I doubted Dr. Ritter knew. He'd told the Watchmaker's Guild that Chronos was Dr. Millroy's co-magician in the experiment and had given them Mrs. Millroy's description of him, but we weren't yet sure if the guild had told him the description matched that of Gideon Steele.
"Speculation only," Matt said. "As I said, Abercrombie is trying to cause upset. As far as Miss Steele is aware, her grandfather is dead."
I stood and let go of Matt's hand. "I'll tell you what I told Mr. Abercrombie and Mr. Hardacre," I said to both men. "If my grandfather were alive, he would have come to my father's funeral. He would have tried to contact me, but most of all, he would not have allowed a fool like Eddie Hardarcre to take the shop from the Steele family. If he were alive, he would have come forward so the shop would be in his hands again."
"Unless he's guilty of murder twenty-seven years ago, and does not want us to find him," Brockwell countered.
"If that's the case," Matt said, "then he's hardly going to move in with India, is he? He might as well lead his enemies directly to him."
"We are not the enemy," Munro said.
"Unless he's guilty," Brockwell added.
"Good day, gentlemen." I spun round and marched out of the office. "I no longer like Inspector Brockwell," I said to Matt as we exited the building.
"He's doing his job. Unfortunately for us, he's doing it a little too well." He held the coach door open for me. "You think Abercrombie complained about us?"
"Of course it was him, with Eddie following behind like a dog."
"Don't disparage dogs, India." He climbed in behind me, his eyes sparkling with humor. How could he be in such a good mood after that meeting? "I rather like them. If I didn't live in the city, I'd own several, all of them very large and very friendly."
I clicked my tongue. "You're impossible, Matt. I don't know how you could dismiss that meeting so easily."
"All will be well. Unless they search the house, they won't find Chronos. That attack has frightened him into hiding. And now we're about to be one step closer to finding the doctor magician we need to fix this." He tapped his chest where his magic watch hid beneath his waistcoat. "We're not far from finding Millroy's killer, either. All in all, things are looking positive."
I conjured up a smile from the depths of my frustration. "I am looking forward to meeting the merry widow."
It took us longer than it ought to have done to reach Lady Buckland's townhouse. She didn't live far from Matt, but he made the coachman take a circuitous route, and fast, to insure no one followed us. While Matt claimed he couldn't see anyone, I suspected he had an inkling Payne was tracking his movements.
Lady Buckland was indeed merry, but from sherry not natural good humor. I could smell it on her breath when she greeted us in her dusky rose dressing gown in a parlor that was also wallpapered in the same shade of pink. She sat on the sofa with a small white dog in her lap and a tall blonde footman standing to attention at her side. She wasn't at all the dignified lady I expected, based on Mrs. Randley's answers to our questions, but I suppose
d people changed over time.
"I am sorry for my appearance," she said, slurring her words a little. "I'm not usually ready for callers this early in the morning, but my butler said you insisted."
It was eleven o'clock, according to the marble and gold clock on the mantel. We'd deliberately waited so as not to disturb her morning routine.
"We're very sorry," Matt said, "but your butler was right to insist. This is very important. You're the key to our investigation." He sat forward a little, and spoke directly to her without letting his gaze drop. His undivided attention, along with his insistence that she was important, certainly got the desired result. She was riveted to his every word.
"I am? How thrilling. Now, tell me, what are you investigating?”
This was the part I worried about most. A woman who’d had a scandalous liaison with a married man would not like talk of that affair to resurface, even years later. If we didn't handle it deftly, she could close up entirely and refuse to answer any of our other questions.
"My name is Parsons," Matt said. "Matthew Parsons."
Parsons! I managed to contain my surprise to a sharp look in his direction. My quick movement startled Lady Buckland, however. She squeezed her dog so tightly it yelped and leapt out of her hands. The footman chased it, but it retreated beneath another sofa, out of his reach.
Lady Buckland touched the fur collar of her dressing gown at her throat. "Go on, Mr. Parsons. What do you want from me?"
Matt offered her a gentle smile. "Just the answers to a few questions about my cousin."
"Cousin?"
"My father's cousin, to be precise. Dr. James Millroy and my father were first cousins, but my father moved to America and they lost touch. I wanted to connect with him on my visit here, but discovered he died, alas."
Lady Buckland seemed a little lost without her dog to hold on to. Her thumb rubbed the back of her hand, pushing at the loose skin over her knuckles. "And what has that got to do with me?"
Matt eyed the footman, now on his hands and knees trying to reach the dog. The dog was having none of it, crouched at the back corner, its dark eyes on the footman. "Cousin James told my father all about the two of you," Matt whispered.
The rubbing suddenly stopped. "Milo, come here."
I thought she was calling the dog but it was the footman who answered. "Yes, m'lady?"
"Please leave us. Shut the door."
He bowed and dutifully left but not before he shot the dog a warning glare.
"Dr. Millroy was my physician years ago," Lady Buckland told us. "Why would you come here to learn more about him? You ought to speak to his wife, if the dried up old prune still lives."
"She does and I have," Matt said easily. "But you are the one I really wanted to speak to, ma'am. You're the one who knew him best. You're the one he loved."
I almost choked, but Lady Buckland looked pleased with Matt's flattery. Her face brightened like a flower blooming beneath the sun.
"You know," she said simply.
"I know," Matt said. "Cousin James mentioned you frequently in his letters to my father. He wrote glowing words about you. Positively wonderful things."
"Tell me some of them."
The dog emerged from beneath the other sofa but did not approach. Matt bent down and clicked his fingers. "Here."
The dog trotted happily to him. It must be female.
"He wrote about your glorious hair and fine eyes." Fine eyes? I bit back my smile. Mr. Darcy couldn't have said it as smoothly.
A flush infused Lady Buckland's cheeks and her gaze became distant. "My dearest James. How I miss him."
Matt picked up the dog and passed it to her. "Tell me what you remember. I'd like to know everything about my cousin."
She stroked the dog's fur as it settled in her lap, her attention on the task as she watched the fur slide through her fingers. The dog closed its eyes and rested its chin on Lady Buckland's other hand in perfect contentment.
"James was clever and amusing. We had marvelous conversations and would stay up until all hours talking. He was generous too, and I'm not merely referring to the gifts he bought me. Generous of spirit, was my dear James. He was always complimenting me on this or that." She touched the gray curl at the nape of her neck. The rest of her hair was tucked beneath a lace cap. "He always had time for me too, and never asked for anything in return." She sighed. "Until… Well, until the end."
"You mean just before his death?" Matt asked. She nodded. "Did he change toward you?"
Tears pooled in her eyes. "I don't want to talk about it."
Matt waited until the silence became uncomfortable, then said, "His wife told me he was murdered and his killer never caught. What a terrible time that must have been for you."
"It was awful, particularly considering how things were between us in the days leading up to his death. If I could go back and make things right between us, I would. Not that I would have made a different decision, but I would have tried to smooth things over rather than argue."
Was she referring to giving up their child? Had Dr. Millroy not known until it was too late? I waited for Matt to ask her, but he did not. It was most frustrating, but I knew by now he often came to his point in a round about way to get the other person to trust him.
"Do you think an opportunistic thief attacked and killed him as the police assumed?" he asked.
"It seems the most likely answer, but…" She buried her hand in the dog's fur. "Let's just say there is another person with a reason to kill him."
"Who?" I blurted out. It was the first time I'd spoken, and Lady Buckland looked surprised to hear me speak at all. I'd been introduced as Matt's fiancée, the one who'd urged him to seek out information about his father's cousin, but she'd largely ignored me until now.
"Mrs. Millroy of course." She screwed up her nose and stroked the dog vigorously. "Cold, barren woman, and I don't mean in the sense she couldn't have children. Barren of heart was Mrs. Millroy. I wouldn't put it past her to have killed him, not from jealousy, but simply because I made him happy."
"Do you have any evidence that she did it?" Matt asked.
"You've met her. What did you think?"
"Her character is not evidence."
"It ought to be," she muttered.
"She told me the Surgeon's Guild had a heated argument with him over an experiment he conducted on a homeless man. Do you think that event could have triggered Dr. Millroy's murder?"
Her gaze narrowed. "Why do you want to know?"
"I don't like thinking of his death being in vain, or of his murderer going unpunished. Cousin James's wife said the police gave up looking for his killer. I thought perhaps I could find some answers. It seems right, somehow."
"You are a good man. A very good man. He would have been proud to call you family."
Matt offered her a gentle smile. "Thank you. So do you know about the experiment I'm referring to?"
"A little," she hedged. "He told me the Surgeon's Guild were hounding him over something. But, to be honest, we were not on good terms ourselves at that point, due to…a certain matter, so I know little about it."
"I am sorry to hear that. I know how much he adored you, and I'm sure he would have tried to make things up to you if he'd lived. Nothing would have come between you forever."
"Perhaps," she said on a deep sigh. "We'll never know now."
Again, I waited for Matt to press her about the child but he did not. "Perhaps the Surgeons Guild's master had him killed," he said.
"Good lord, do you think so?" She patted her chest as if trying to settle a racing heartbeat. "That's rather extreme punishment. Why not simply expel him from the guild if they were unhappy with his experimenting?"
"Why not indeed? Or perhaps the man he experimented on had a family who sought revenge."
"That's entirely possible too. I recall James wanted to find out for certain if the man was indeed alone in the world. Perhaps he located a relative and they…" She swallowed. "Considering his p
lans for the evening of his death, it's a strong possibility he found someone."
"Go on."
"He sent me a letter asking me to receive him the following day. But he died that night." She lowered her head and sniffed. "In the letter, he briefly mentioned his search for more information about the man."
Matt handed her his handkerchief. "Do you recall what he wrote?"
"Not the exact words. He said he wanted to meet me to discuss…our disagreement, but he couldn't until his conscience was clear. The experiment had played on his mind and even distracted him from what I'd done."
"What did he do to clear his conscience?" Matt asked.
"He wrote that he had to visit a doss house. That was all."
"The man had been staying in a doss house?" Matt asked.
"It would seem so. I suppose James hoped to find out more about him from the staff."
"What did he hope to achieve if he found the man's relatives?" I asked. "Compensate them for their loss?"
She lifted one shoulder then let it sag along with the other. She looked very much her age, all signs of youthful beauty gone beneath the weight of time and sorrow. "I think he just wanted to know for certain if the man had a family or not. It would ease his conscience greatly to know there wasn't one. At the time, he assumed there wasn't, but later, he began to have doubts. If you ask me, Mrs. Millroy planted the seeds of doubt. She was cruel like that, always saying little things to unsettle him."
"Do you think that's why Dr. Millroy was in Whitechapel on the night of his death? Because he'd gone to a doss house there to learn more about Wilson?"
"No. If he'd died in Bethnal Green I would have a different answer, but why he was in Whitechapel is a mystery to me. He only mentioned going to a Bethnal Green doss house in his note, you see."
"Bethnal Green?" I echoed.
"Yes. Why do you ask?"
"I wonder what he learned about Mr. Wilson at the doss house that sent him into Whitechapel," Matt said quickly.
"Mr. Wilson?" She shook her head. "That wasn't his name."
The news surprised Matt into silence for several seconds. "Do you know his name?" he eventually asked.
"It escapes me but…Wilson is not quite right."
