The room went dead silent as Margaret digested what Julia had just described.
“I dragged his body to the yard and cleaned up the room as best I could. I wanted it to look like he died in some brawl or something. That night I ran to Mrs. Holliwell and a week later she found me a place here. I thought it worked until I saw that man tied to the lamppost. I knew then that they had found me.”
Margaret sat in silence as Julia went for the window. Pulling back the drapes she peered outside to the street below. “I’ve seen all that you and Peter have been through and I’ve wished so many times it didn’t have to be like this. They know where I am now. And I’m afraid what happened to my sister-in-law Mary is just the beginning.”
“Why do you say that?” Margaret asked.
“Thaddeus is like a cat,” Julia explained, turning to look at Margaret. “He likes to play with his prey before finishing it off.”
Chapter 23
Ainsley had no intentions of sleeping and found no rest in the confines of his room. The house grew quiet and then the streets below followed suit as he sat at his desk, flipping through his sketchbook. He searched for the images he drew of Julia, finally able to look at them now that he knew she was close to him again. He had meant what he said on the street earlier. He had thought of marriage briefly before but such thoughts were always tethered to the reality of their differences in class. He had never permitted anything but a fleeting thought on the matter, but now he could not deny that it was the single most desirous thing imaginable to him.
Allowing his feelings such open rein over his senses felt liberating and absolutely terrifying at the same time. It was as if a piece of his body would always remain outside of him, wandering the streets vulnerable and yet bolstered by his love. The thought brought a smile to his lips as he leaned into his upturned palm, his elbow propped on the desk.
A noise downstairs alerted him and he sat upright. He listened intently to subtle sounds in the foyer and then came three loud knocks from the front door.
Look. Look.
The voices circled about him in an eerie funnel cloud, layers upon layers of undecipherable whispers and chants.
Not him. Not him. Look. Look.
Shaking them off, Ainsley stood and marched for his window. He could see nothing below. He was at the top of the stairs by the time Margaret’s and Julia’s doors opened. Margaret tightened her housecoat.
“Who is it?” she asked, groggily.
Ainsley shook his head and raised his finger to his lips, entreating her to be quiet. Julia inched toward him in the dark. “Stay here,” he said.
As he came down the stairs he saw a shadow move through the frosted glass of the front door. The streetlamp cast a dim glow onto whoever it was on the portico.
“Careful, Peter,” Margaret cautioned from the second-floor landing.
Ainsley was halfway down the stairs when he heard another bedroom door open, and then another. Margaret was successful at keeping everyone from coming down with him, except Nathaniel, who tiptoed down the stairs.
“Do you think it may be him?” Nathaniel said as he appeared behind Ainsley.
He didn’t care to answer and grabbed the only conceivable weapon at hand, a gold-plated candlestick. Nathaniel was quick to take up its twin.
So much time had passed since the initial knock that it seemed odd there was no other. The shadow at the door moved but no sound was heard. As Ainsley inched for the door he motioned for Nathaniel to stay back.
“State your business!” Ainsley yelled through the thick, exterior door. No reply came except an eerie, high-pitched scratch.
After turning the lock, he curled his hand around the brass handle, giving a quick glance to ensure Margaret and Julia were safe on the landing, before yanking the door wide open.
A black mass greeted them, solid and unmoving. A scream echoed through the hall as Ainsley swung the candlestick, striking the figure square on the chest. The being buckled backward but made no sound, and he realized he had hit something softer than flesh.
A light behind him grew brighter as he stood there. Suddenly the mass took shape and form, mimicking a man, hung from the portico ceiling, still swaying from Ainsley’s blow, the rope creaking against the beam of the portico.
A terrified shriek came from the top of the stairs.
Ainsley gasped for breath and heaved himself up from the chair. He was in his room with the oil lamp dim and his sketchbook pages scattered about the floor. It took a moment for him to catch his breath from the fright.
“It’s all right,” he told himself. “It’s not real.”
Chapter 24
Barely a word was said as they filed into breakfast the next morning. For the first time, Julia was invited to sit with the family for the meal, but she graciously refused.
“I think I will sit with your father for a spell,” she said when Ainsley tried to coax her to the dining room. “Perhaps he would like meet Lucy.”
Ainsley highly doubted it. Their father had little concern for them when they were younger and seemed to groan with relief once all his offspring came of age. He said nothing of the sort to Julia, however, who was most likely looking for any excuse not to overstep her station too soon. Ainsley knew it was better to ease everyone into it, despite his desire to have their relationship out in the open at last.
Aunt Louisa gave a look of surprise when she saw that Julia would not be dining with them but it was Nathaniel who commented first.
“Perhaps her table manners require further tutelage,” he offered.
“Perhaps she knows she will be scrutinized mercilessly,” Margaret said with a growl.
Aunt Louisa shot her son a look, as if cautioning him from speaking further. It was a warning he chose to ignore.
“She’s causing strain on an already precarious predicament,” he said, glancing to Maxwell, who stood dutifully next to the sideboard. Nathaniel lowered his voice. “Don’t you see? Imagine having to serve one of your own? The staff are close to revolt.”
“Let them,” Ainsley said unsympathetically.
“It is not very different from the underservants serving the housekeeper and butler,” Margaret said casually, not wanting to entirely commit to furthering such a doomed conversation.
“I should say there is much difference,” Nathaniel laughed. “Does this mean anyone can improve their station simply by connecting with the right people?”
“Is that not the foundation of the British peerage?” Ainsley asked, still coming to terms that he was having such a conversation.
“Besides, Julia is more a family member than I think you realize,” Margaret said.
“Oh really?” Nathaniel pushed the food around on his plate. “How long has Cousin Peter been sneaking her into his bedroom then?”
A fork clattered onto a plate as Ainsley stood. Margaret, who had been seated next to him, stood and placed herself between him and their cousin across the table. “Peter,” she said cautiously.
“When will The Briar’s improvements be completed, Aunt Louisa?” Ainsley asked, without taking his eyes from Nathaniel, who had pulled as far back from the table as his chair would allow.
Margaret slowly pulled away but kept a hold of Ainsley’s sleeve.
“Only another week or so,” Aunt Louisa answered. She turned to her son beside her, slapped his thigh and gave him a stern look.
“Don’t let us keep you here any longer than necessary,” Ainsley said, pulling his chair toward him.
The rest of the meal was eaten in near-silence, each person lost in thought and silenced by the obvious strain. Ainsley barely touched his food and instead found himself moving it about the plate with his fork. The room had grown so quiet nearly everyone jumped when the doorbell sounded, shattering the tension. Aunt Louisa raised a hand to her head as she tried to steady her breathing.
Maxwell left the room to answer the door but curiosity got the better of Ainsley, who followed the butler out into the hall. The two con
stables stationed in the foyer stood erect and waited as Maxwell walked to the door.
“Good day, sir. Please inform Mr. Marshall and Ms. Crandall that their presence is requested at Scotland Yard.” Sergeant Fisher hopped up on his toes as he spoke.
“What is it, Sergeant?” Ainsley asked.
The sergeant nodded. “Inspector Simms has something to show you, sir,” he said. His eyes darted to the side. “Ms. Crandall, if you please?”
When Ainsley turned he saw that Julia had come to the top of the stairs holding Lucy.
Julia reached the bottom of the stairs just as Aunt Louisa and Margaret came toward the door. “I’m afraid I cannot leave my niece.”
“It’s all right,” Aunt Louisa said, reaching out to take the baby. “I’ll see she is taken care of.” She grabbed Ainsley’s sleeve and pulled him toward her. “Pay no heed to what Nathaniel said. He has much to learn.”
Ainsley nodded before bending over and kissing her softly on the cheek. “We won’t be long, Aunt Louisa.”
A few moments later, Julia and Ainsley were installed in a waiting carriage with a plush, velvet bench and smooth privacy curtains. Ainsley could feel the movement in the carriage as the sergeant climbed up beside the driver. A few minutes from the house, Ainsley pulled back the curtains and noticed they were on Westminster Bridge, heading in the opposite direction of the Yard.
“Didn’t he say we are requested at Scotland Yard?” Ainsley asked.
“He called me Ms. Crandall,” Julia pointed out, looking over his shoulder.
Ainsley ran his hand over the bench cushion. “This isn’t a police carriage,” he said, his mind instantly recalling the one he had ridden when he was arrested recently.
“Thaddeus.” Julia breathed the name that was on both of their minds.
“We have to get out of this carriage,” Ainsley said.
The traffic was light, which allowed the carriage to move steadily through the streets, heading directly for Southwark. Ainsley tugged on the door handle, but found the mechanism latched and locked. He leaned back onto the bench seat and used his feet to kick at the latch. Each blow sent the carriage box rocking. It wouldn’t take long before Sergeant Fisher and the driver noticed. The door bowed, but would not give.
“Aim for the window!” Julia cried out.
“Cover your face!” Ainsley pulled back his feet and gave one swift kick with the heel of his shoe. The glass shattered instantly, some cascading down on to the floor of the carriage. By the time Ainsley caught himself Julia had her arm through the opening and was pulling at the latch from the outside. The carriage slowed and was pulling over to the side of the road.
Before Sergeant Fisher could clamour down Ainsley and Julia were on the pavement running in the opposite direction.
A gunshot rang out and screams erupted from the intrigued crowd as Peter and Julia ducked into a narrow alley.
“Good God man, not in broad daylight!”
When Ainsley glanced back he saw Sergeant Fisher giving the driver a thump with the back of his hand before jumping from his perch.
“He’s coming!” Ainsley urged Julia further down the alley and grabbed her hand as he passed her. They passed a doorway and she pulled him back, slipping into the shadows.
“What is this place?” Ainsley asked, feeling the dust churn about them as they scurried to the opposite side of a very large, dimly lit room. It was there that Ainsley could smell a hint of the Thames.
“It’s the building where Thaddeus keeps all his carriages,” Julia said, “and sometimes other things.”
Ainsley knocked his knee into the large wheel of a disabled cart and bit down on his tongue to keep himself from crying out in pain. Julia let go of his hand and disappeared into the gloom.
“Julia!” Ainsley dared not bring his voice above a whisper. He followed the sound of her footsteps and came to the bottom of a set of stairs.
“Follow me,” she said, “I’m up here.”
He clamoured up and breathed a sigh of relief when he found her at the top.
“This door leads to the roof,” she said, “We can jump to one of the neighbouring buildings but once I—”
The alley door opened suddenly and Sergeant Fisher appeared. Ainsley could see the glint of the pistol in his hands as he scanned the room.
“Come now, doctor,” he said, “let’s not get too hasty. They only want to talk to you.”
Ainsley reached for the doorknob behind Julia but her hand stopped him from turning it. In the dim light he could see her shaking her head. She was waiting for the right time.
“It’s the girl they want, not you. Give ’er to us and you can go back to that nice, elegant home of yours.” Sergeant Fisher’s voice grew distant as he walked to the opposite side of the building. Suddenly, Julia pulled the door open, splashing light into the room.
“There!”
Together they darted onto the roof, running along the narrow bit of flat roof before clamouring up to the peak and sliding down the other side. At the top Ainsley caught sight of the Thames, Blackfriars Bridge, and the Tower on the other side. The roof was flat on the next building and they were able to run. And then the roof ended. They stood at the edge looking down onto an alley littered with garbage and broken bits of wood.
“If we can get to the bridge we can hire a hansom,” Julia said.
She led him to the corner of the building and pointed to a wooden landing nine feet below. The stairs would lead them to the alley but only if they could make it to the landing, which looked weatherworn and unstable, hardly capable of supporting a kitten, let alone two adults at the same time.
“It’s not safe,” he said, turning away.
“We have to,” Julia said, forcing him to look at her.
“I’m not going first and leaving you here for that madman, and I’m not sure I want to see it collapse under you.” Ainsley drew his hand through his hair, pained by the choice in front of him.
She clasped both hands on the side of his face and kissed him. “I love you,” she said, before turning and crouching over the edge. She held on to the ledge as long as she could before dropping down. The wood swayed slightly but did not collapse and she started down the stairs.
“Come on!” she yelled, as she looked up.
Ainsley nodded and swung his feet over. She was halfway down before he decided he could do it.
“Easy there, pal!”
Ainsley felt a metal chain slip over his head and set at his neck. He looked up to see the carriage driver flashing a black-toothed grin. “Jump now and I can promise you a slow, painful death.”
Behind him Ainsley could see Sergeant Fisher catching up, heaving from exhaustion and relieved to see Ainsley had been caught.
“London’s elite, eh?” the driver sneered.
“The girl?” Sergeant Fisher asked.
They all looked over the ledge and saw a deserted alley.
“Don’t worry,” the driver said, tightening the chain somewhat. “She won’t leave without Prince Charming here.”
Chapter 25
With his hands tied in front of him, Ainsley was brought to the courtyard behind Thaddeus’s warehouse building. He had been pushed along by Sergeant Fisher and the carriage driver, who showed little concern for the pedestrians watching their march down the street. Their fear of Thaddeus appeared well established. After they pushed Ainsley into the courtyard, the carriage-high gate groaned and reverberated as it was eased back into place.
Ainsley’s eyes went to the window of Thaddeus’s office, expecting to see the man himself, but the panes were black and empty. Thaddeus’s mother smiled from the breezeway entrance.
“Good of you to join us again, Dr. Ainsley,” she said, as she walked toward them. “Glad to see you are healing nicely.” She turned to Fisher. “The girl?”
“She got away, ma’am.”
Her shoulders sank as she heaved a sigh and turned her attention back to Ainsley. “Had I known you were harbouring Ms. Cran
dall our last meeting wouldn’t have ended so quickly.”
“Why does she matter to you so much?” Ainsley asked.
“She killed my son, Dr. Ainsley. I think even you can understand there can be no forgiveness for that.”
It was then that Ainsley realized where he knew her from. “Shall I call you Mrs. Calvin or do you prefer Mrs. Wagner?”
The woman smiled as she pulled the same handkerchief Ainsley remembered from her sleeve. Her face contorted into a pout and she feigned a sniffle.
“Goodness, Doctor, I’m flattered you’d remember,” she said, taking on the very same tone of voice she had used while supposedly looking for her daughter in Ainsley’s morgue. “So gullible.” She turned to Sergeant Fisher. “He can be useful until we find the girl.” She jerked her chin toward one of the buildings to the side. “Check with Delaney for now. I’ll send out a group for Julia.”
Ainsley was pushed to one of the doors. Sergeant Fisher opened it to find a man seated on the stairs.
“Is that the doctor?” a man asked, scrambling to his feet.
Sergeant snickered. “Doctor of the dead. You Delaney?”
The man nodded. “Bring him up here.”
Sergeant Fisher took hold of Ainsley’s upper arm and shoved him in the door. Inside, there was a long, narrow hallway with a set of stairs at the very end. Only one other door was on the ground floor, which Ainsley guessed led to the pub he had seen on his earlier visit but on the opposite side. A window, tinted brown by silt and age, illuminated the stairwell, which consisted of warped wood that had been beaten and bowed by heavy foot traffic.
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