He turned. “Oh, my apologies,” he said hopping up to assist her. He placed the chair not far from his own.
“I met with Mrs. Talbot today, as you requested,” she said as she took her seat. “And I’ve made a right fool of myself in the process.”
Ainsley did not sit immediately. Instead, he stood over his desk and passively surveyed the papers scattered on its surface. “What did you find out?” he asked hesitantly.
“The body was found by the maid prior to dawn,” she said. “And no one in the house recognized him. Simms has been very thorough in interviewing everyone.”
Ainsley smiled. “I have no doubt.”
“Perhaps this violence is not related to the Talbots,” Margaret suggested.
“The body was put on display,” Ainsley said. “It’s a message to someone. I can’t see the point of it otherwise.”
Margaret let out a tiny sigh as she recalled her conversation with Mrs. Talbot and Winifred.
“Why do you say you made a fool of yourself?” Ainsley asked, shifting a small stack of files to the far end of his desk and then plucking up a pen.
“Winifred nearly accused me of preening for salacious details.” Margaret choked back her frustration. “It was mortifying.”
“Don’t take it to heart,” Ainsley said, clearly trying his best to console her. “She’s always been difficult to please.” He shook his head as if shaking off an unpleasant memory.
Margaret popped to the edge of her chair as Ainsley sat down opposite her. “I have a strong suspicion you have done something to her.”
“Nothing she did not wish me to do,” Ainsley answered, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His smile quickly faded when their eyes met. “She was a willing participant, Margaret. Trust me on that.”
“Yes, but how did it end?”
Ainsley stared off into the corner of the room before shrugging. “One-sided perhaps.” He slapped the pen down on the files and shook his head. “I was a different man back then,” he said. “Seems like a lifetime ago.”
“This is what I was saying, Peter. You don’t know the heartache you’ve left behind.” Margaret sighed. “That’s why I had to ask if you quarrelled. I don’t think Julia would just run off without at least leaving a note.”
A look of pain on his face, Ainsley ran a hand through his hair and looked to his desk.
“What is this about?” Margaret asked, nodding to the files and papers strewn about.
“Do you remember me speaking about a woman who came to see me yesterday, asking if her daughter had been brought here? I’ve been looking through all our files trying to find other girls her age.” He leaned into the top of the desk as Margaret stood and came to his side. “I’m looking for a pattern.”
“Do you think this might relate to Julia?”
Ainsley shrugged. “I don’t know. I only found two murdered women of the same age and area of the city.” He tapped two files in the top corner of his desk. “I’m looking at all the suspected suicides now. Maybe we missed something.”
Margaret pulled the two files across the desk and opened the top one. “Female. Sixteen. Throat slit. Pulled from the Thames.” She winced slightly at the description and then raised her hand to the scar at her own throat.
“She was later identified as Phyllis Martin, a scullery maid,” Ainsley said, pointing further down the page. “She was missing for two weeks before her body was discovered.”
Margaret opened the second one. “Mary Stewart,” she said, reading the name. “Seventeen. A chambermaid.” Her voice shook slightly as she read the details. “Throat slit. Found in Thames at low tide by mudlarks.”
“She had been missing eight days.”
“They both died in the same manner as the man,” Margaret pointed out.
Ainsley nodded. “But they weren’t strung up on display like he was. They were both disadvantaged girls with jobs in service. They were both missing for a period of time longer than a day or two. And they were both found within the last three months.”
“I don’t know, Peter. Feels like a quite a stretch.” She gestured to the stack of files at the centre of the desk. “Anything ruled a suicide won’t help either. The wounds would be self-inflicted, yes?” After a pause, Margaret spoke again. “And I don’t see how this relates to Julia. She’s older than these girls and she doesn’t work anywhere near the neighbourhoods where these women lived and worked. There’s no connection between these women and Belgravia.”
“Except our man found yesterday morning.”
The connection was small but Ainsley seemed determined to bring them together.
“How do you know the culprit hasn’t already been arrested?”
“I don’t,” Ainsley answered. “I was just working up my courage to go ask Simms.”
Margaret exhaled and looked away. “Oh dear.”
Chapter 8
With a handful of files tucked under his arm and more than a little trepidation, Ainsley walked up the steps of 4 Whitehall Place and slid through the heavy wood doors of Scotland Yard. Sergeant Fisher was busy speaking with another officer when Ainsley approached the desk with a look of apprehension on his features. He didn’t want any trouble, but he knew his reputation was too well established for anyone to just take his word for it.
The officer and the sergeant turned in unison as he approached. The officer crossed his arms over his chest as Sergeant Fisher leaned over the ledge. “You about-face right now and march out that door and I won’t have to tell Simms you disobeyed his order two days in a row,” he said so only Ainsley could hear.
Ainsley glanced to the officer beside him. He was a large man, half a foot taller than Ainsley and with a scowl so hardened he wondered if people under arrest handcuffed themselves while in his shadow. From the corner of his eye Ainsley spotted Cooper at a desk not too far from the front lobby. The constable spotted him as well, but averted his eyes immediately, pretending to be engrossed by some paperwork. Even as Ainsley approached, the desk sergeant and mammoth officer at his heels, Cooper did not look up.
“File your complaint with Sergeant Fisher,” Cooper mumbled. “I’m sure he cares more than I.”
“I’m sorry, Cooper—”
“Sorry?” After a quick glance about the room, Cooper lowered his voice. “You nearly cost me my job,” he growled.
Cooper was young and a complete greenhorn in a profession where his height and weight mattered more than his abilities. He’d have to hold his own amongst thieves and murders alike, all the while making a good impression on his superior officers. A major gaffe like the one he had made with Ainsley was enough to put his loyalty into question and cause undue scrutiny. The stress of it was already showing by the way he tapped his pen.
“I didn’t intend to make you look incompetent,” Ainsley said. “It was selfish of me.”
Cooper raised his eyes and swallowed. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it when his eyes darted over Ainsley’s shoulder. “Tell someone who cares,” he muttered as he bowed his head toward his papers.
“I’d like to report a missing person,” Ainsley said, standing in place and alternating his attention amongst them. “Or is this not part of your job anymore?”
After a few unsure glances between the mammoth officer, Fisher and Cooper, Ainsley was escorted to a small room lined with windows instead of solid walls. There was a single table placed in the middle of the room. Even though the noise of the station grew muffled as Cooper closed the door, Ainsley could still see the manic pace of the place and hoped to God Simms didn’t see them before Ainsley could tell them what he had discovered.
“All right,” Cooper said, taking a seat opposite Ainsley. He pulled his chair toward the table and positioned a notebook in front of him. “Who is the missing party?”
The murmur from the opposite side of the glass ended abruptly, drawing Ainsley’s attention to the desks just beyond the room. Simms stood ten feet from the door, hard-faced and furious.
He turned to a nearby officer and said something, but Ainsley could not hear what. With an overwhelming sense of unease, Ainsley stood slowly, using the edge of the table to steady his movements. Both he and Cooper moved deliberately, as one would when encountering a bear, never taking their eye from their adversary and incredibly leery of what they might do.
“What the hell happened between you two?” Cooper asked.
It was no secret the contempt Simms felt for Ainsley, but now it was confirmed—Simms had never told a soul what took place.
“It was the biggest mistake of my life,” Ainsley answered.
Simms charged for the door, barrelling in and pushing himself into Ainsley. “You don’t belong here!” he bellowed.
Ainsley felt the edge of the table crunch into him as he tried to back away, wanting desperately to avoid blows. He had no desire to hit Simms. He wanted to repair the damage he had done and despaired at the thought of never being able to heal that wound.
He readied himself for a hit or shove, but Cooper bravely ran to his aid and pushed Simms off him. “He’s here regarding a missing person!”
When Simms stepped back, Cooper placed himself firmly between Ainsley and his attacker. Out of breath, Simms stood silent for a few seconds before adjusting his coat. “Who’s missing?” he asked.
“Julia Kemp, a maid from our house,” Ainsley answered, as Cooper stepped back slowly. Simms’s and Ainsley’s eyes met, each furious and equally heartbroken.
“Take the report and get him out of here,” Simms said.
“There’s something else,” Ainsley called out as Simms reached the door. He knew his voice sounded desperate and shaky. Simms was the Yard’s best man and he needed him to help find Julia. Ainsley gestured to the files sitting in the middle of the table that separated them. “It’s about your man from Belgravia.”
The tension in the room was palpable, even as Simms closed the door to the rest of the office. He didn’t bother looking to the other officers who shared the space. He kept his gaze trained on Ainsley at the other side of the table, studying him and perhaps trying to discern if he spoke the truth.
Moments passed. No one spoke until Simms reached over the desk and grabbed one of the files. “Explain,” he said evenly.
“I found evidence of two women, each housemaids, murdered and deposited in the Thames. Their throats slit.”
Simms’s expression did not waiver as he looked over the morgue reports.
“A woman visited my morgue two days ago enquiring about her daughter, a scullery maid who hasn’t returned home from work. I said I would look through our files.”
Simms looked up suddenly, his face expressionless, causing Ainsley to falter. Simms said nothing.
Ainsley swallowed. “If my theory is correct, she will be found within the next three days.”
“How does this connect to our man in Belgravia?” Simms asked, arching his eyebrow.
“I believe he was killed by the same person,” Ainsley explained. “You’ll notice in the morgue reports that the wounds sustained by the women were jagged. There were tears in the dermis that resemble more of a rip than a cut.”
Cooper went pale as Ainsley spoke.
Ainsley licked his lips and suddenly remembered who he was speaking with. Simms was a seasoned officer but Cooper was yet to be hardened by the streets.
“Continue, Dr. Ainsley,” Simms said.
With an inhale of breath, Ainsley proceeded. “I observed a similar pattern on the body found in Belgravia—”
“A body that you were not permitted access to,” Simms reminded him.
“Yes.”
Thankfully, Simms did not press further as to why Ainsley felt compelled to intercede with the crime scene.
“If our man is related to these maids, why was he not found in the Thames as well?” Cooper asked.
“I believe he was meant as a message, a warning,” Ainsley said.
A sudden breath escaped Inspector Simms as he slapped the files back down on the table that separated them. “Here’s a warning for you, Peter,” he said, using Ainsley’s first name for the first time in a long time. “If I ever find you interfering with an official investigation again I won’t be as understanding as I have been until now.”
“But Miss Kemp?”
“Go home, Peter,” Simms said more determinedly. “My holding cells are at capacity, but for you I could always squeeze in one more.” The inspector turned his attention to Cooper. “Take the information regarding the maid and make sure he leaves. Sergeant Fisher should know his shadow isn’t permitted on our front steps.” He turned for the door.
“Wait. You know there’s a connection here. I saw it in your face,” Ainsley pleaded. “You can’t just dismiss me.”
“I just did.”
The door slammed as Simms left.
Chapter 9
With a stale summer heat pressing down on the city Ainsley opted for a hansom home. As the carriage rolled past the Talbot residence Ainsley peered out the window and saw that all evidence of the earlier crime had been removed. Nothing stirred in the windows of the house and scarcely any light made it past the heavy, drawn curtains. As evening took hold, the streets appeared vacant with only a single boy hurriedly making his way down the pavement.
The carriage pulled up to the kerb on the opposite side of the road from Marshall House and Ainsley disembarked. He tipped his hat to the driver and made his way across the empty street. Once inside he found the foyer vacant. He removed his own hat and jacket and draped them over the bannister at the foot of stairs.
Lamplight blazed from the parlour while a giggle from Aunt Louisa wafted into the hall.
“Peter should be home soon,” Ainsley heard Margaret say. “I’m certain he will be glad to see you.”
Ainsley found himself smiling. Had Jonas travelled from Edinburgh to pay a visit? Ainsley rounded the corner of the doorframe and stopped suddenly when he saw Blair’s recognizable blond head sitting in their father’s chair. He was seated looking away from the door but the looks of surprise on Margaret and Nathaniel’s faces when Ainsley walked in forced him to look behind him.
“Peter!”
Ainsley forced a smile. “Good to see you, Blair,” he said, shaking the man’s hand in greeting.
It was then that Ainsley realized how much he had hoped it was Jonas. The entire house had been in deep chaos concerning Lord Marshall, which made a proper farewell nearly impossible. The last time Ainsley had seen Jonas was in the hurried jumble of evening when not even the hired nurse had adopted a working procedure for their invalid patriarch. In the end, the send-off was rushed, lacking in meaning and proper attention. Many days had Ainsley wished an opportunity to recast their goodbyes.
“What have you been up to?” Blair asked. “I have never seen a gentleman so inaccessible as you.” He chuckled at his jest and glanced about the room. Aunt Louisa raised her glass and nodded in agreement before downing its entire contents.
“You forget that he has duties beyond the house,” Margaret said quickly.
Ainsley found himself annoyed by her subterfuge. Each person in the room was aware of his duties at the hospital. It seemed pointless to dance about the subject in such a way.
“Oh, that’s right,” Blair said, remembrance dawning on his features. “I guess I just have a hard time imagining you in a surgeon’s frock. You could just call yourself doctor, yes? Perhaps you only go there for the women.” Again a bright smile erupted.
Ainsley’s expression remained blank. He turned to Margaret. “Has any information arrived regarding the package I have been waiting for?”
Margaret’s expression fell. “Oh my, I can’t remember.”
Seconds later she was excusing herself from the conversation, promising a quick return, before walking out into the hall with Ainsley at her heels.
Once out of earshot she turned. Keeping her voice low, she twisted her fingers as she spoke. “I’ve heard nothing. I spoke with everyone on our staff, ho
ping someone had some information.”
Ainsley drew in a discouraged breath.
“I thought perhaps she had received a note from an old friend or something to such end, but nothing had arrived for her that day or any day in the prior week.”
“Have you spoken with Maxwell?”
“Why yes, of course. He knew of her lack of mail.” Margaret licked her lips. “Peter, there’s nothing here. Nothing that can be done.”
“What am I supposed to do, just wait for her to return home?”
Margaret’s head titled slightly to the side. “She worked here. This wasn’t truly her home,” she reminded him.
“This was her home,” he answered somewhat forcefully. They both turned and looked back at the parlour door. “She had no reason to leave.”
The look on Margaret’s face told him she saw a different angle to things.
“What?” he demanded, running a hand through his hair. “What could you possibly understand that I don’t?”
After a moment’s hesitation she spoke. “Perhaps she wished things to be as they were before matters became so…complicated.”
“What is your meaning?”
“Maybe she wished to go a separate way and could not bring herself to tell you.”
Ainsley turned and marched for his father’s study. He could not fathom any such reasoning. Margaret followed him, and even pushed past the door that he tried to close.
“I knew this would not end well,” she said, more forcefully than she could while they spoke in the hall.
Ainsley crossed the floor of the study and went straight for the window that overlooked the dark street.
“Father always said—”
“I know what Father always said!” Ainsley yelled. “Julia and I were different. I don’t know how to explain it. It just was.”
“How could it be?” Margaret asked. “She is a maid, employed by our father and paid by our riches. How could she turn you away and deny your advances?”
“If you knew Julia as I do you’d know that she’d have no qualms about sending me on my merry way. If my advances were unsatisfactory I have no doubt she would have made it known.” The very suggestion that he had taken advantage of her, the woman he now realized he loved, was repugnant and vile. “She would never allow herself to be pushed around. Not by me, or anyone.”
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