by Abigail Agar
But he had interacted with plenty of guarded wives before.
The life of a woman in London was not easy. He made no mistake about that. He never would question the quality of a woman based on the fact that she did not wish to come out with her every thought.
He had seen the views and opinions of many women disregarded, had watched as their sadness descended when they were ignored. So often, their words were not believed.
If Mrs. Reid was anything like those women, he understood.
“I thank you for your time, Mrs. Reid,” Hamish said.
“I am sorry that I could give you no further information. I know that it must be terribly frustrating to have to research such a dull case, the whims of a young woman,” she said, without feeling.
“Your daughter is very passionate about the matter. I would not presume to write her off so quickly. I believe that she must be considered,” Hamish said.
Mrs. Reid simply shrugged, raising an eyebrow and sucking in her cheeks as if deeply bored.
“You may leave,” he said.
“Thank you,” she replied, standing and departing from the room without any further acknowledgement.
Hamish watched her go, wishing that she had at least interacted more with Miss Smithfield. As it was, she could not know anything, such was the reach of her cold demeanour.
A part of him grieved on behalf of Miss Reid to have grown up with such a mother as the one he had just encountered. A woman with so little feeling.
Next, he called Mr. Reid back in.
The man entered the room with swagger. Once more, it was clear that he did not want Hamish there.
Hamish understood this as well. After all, there was no man in all of England who wanted an inspector in his home.
Still, it had been Mr. Reid who had allowed his daughter to insist upon coming to the precinct.
“Thank you, Mr. Reid,” he said.
“For what? For the fact that you have interrogated my wife and daughter, and now myself?” he asked, taking his seat.
“This is no interrogation, Mr. Reid. Not yet, at least,” he said.
Mr. Reid fumed, but tried to remain composed.
“Now, you brought your daughter to the department today because she demanded it. But you claim to have no knowledge of Miss Smithfield’s whereabouts?” Hamish asked.
“I do not,” he replied, folding his hands.
“And how well do you know Miss Smithfield?” Hamish asked.
“About as well as any man knows any household employees,” he replied.
“I see. And do you pay your employees well? Well enough that they would not run in search of a better workplace?” he asked.
“I do,” he answered.
“What sort of work is it that you do?” Hamish asked.
Mr. Reid cleared his throat.
“Business,” he said.
“What sort of business?” he asked.
“Not yours,” Mr. Reid replied.
Hamish raised an eyebrow at such insolence, but he didn’t allow himself to get angry.
“And are you the owner of this business?” he asked.
“Yes,” Mr. Reid answered in a clipped manner.
Already, something did not sit right with Hamish. He got a terrible sense from Mr. Reid.
Something was amiss.
“Is there anything more you might tell me about your work?” he asked.
“Nothing relevant,” Mr. Reid said.
“I might be a better judge as to what is and is not relevant to this investigation,” Hamish said.
“And I am the better judge as to what is relevant in my own household,” Mr. Reid replied.
As Hamish continued to question Mr. Reid’s business, he started to wonder further if there was something more to it.
Why was it that this man appeared uncomfortable talking about his work? Was it possible that he had crooked dealings?
Hamish considered the possibility. It would make sense. It was certainly possible that Mr. Reid had brought himself to a point where he had crossed a line of criminal activity.
It would also give Hamish good reason to suspect him. And it would give Mr. Reid good reason to not want him there.
The suspicion grew as Hamish continued to question him.
“Are you happy in your line of work?” Hamish asked.
“I am,” he said.
“Do you believe your staff to be happy in their work?” he continued.
“What does that matter to me? I pay them for a job. I cannot say as to whether or not they are fulfilled in that job,” he said.
“You do not even know if they are happy with their hours, their wages, the quality of it?” he asked.
Mr. Reid simply stared at him, clearly tired of the questions Hamish was asking.
His duty was certainly in asking questions, but that was not how Hamish received answers. He found his answers through observation.
When he asked a question, as he listened for the answer, he also searched for the sweat upon a man’s brow, for the wince in his eye, the quiver of his cheek.
Where Mrs. Reid had been so still that he believed her to be hiding something, Mr. Reid appeared to tremble.
“I must be honest with you, Mr. Reid. Your lack of answers causes me to wonder,” Hamish said.
“There is no evidence that a crime has been committed, because one has not. If there was, you would have no evidence that I might be guilty, because I am not. Yet you question me as though I am accused,” he said.
“Mr. Reid, I am trying to determine whether or not the young lady had cause to run off on her own accord or if something in this house caused her to flee. If neither of those are the answer, it is possible that a crime did take place, at which point I intend to interrogate. This? This is no interrogation. This is simply a series of questions in order to learn all that I can about a missing girl,” Hamish said.
Mr. Reid did not answer, instead looking sheepishly away.
Hamish took a deep breath and watched him a moment longer.
Mr. Reid was not about to confess to anything. In fact, he may have absolutely nothing to do with the maid’s disappearance.
However, there was something. There was something about his business that he did not want Hamish to know.
And that made him wonder. It made him wonder if there was something that the maid should not have known.
“Well, it would seem that we have nothing further to discuss, Mr. Reid. Whatever it is that has you so…timid…I believe we may let it rest for now,” Hamish said.
“As you please,” Mr. Reid said, standing in a similar fashion as his wife had.
Alas, he had decided to release the man. His son, was next.
“Mr. William Reid?” Hamish asked.
“Yes, that’s me,” he replied.
Mr. William Reid was utterly foppish. He had the carefree manner of the idle rich. And yet, he had the insecurity of a man who did not belong there.
“And you have been made aware of all that is going on?” Hamish asked.
“I am well aware that you have angered my father the likes of which I have never seen before. I must say, that is rather impressive. Well done to you both, gentlemen,” he said with a laugh.
Hamish eyed him without reverence until the young Mr. Reid’s dopey smile shifted to discomfort.
Hamish didn’t like something about the young man. He had the sense, again, that something was being hidden from him. This time, however, he thought that it was most certainly relevant.
It did not take long for the thought to form in his mind that, perhaps, the young Mr. Reid had something to do with the disappearance. It was not uncommon, unfortunately, for a young man of his station to abuse his authority. It was certainly quite possible that Miss Smithfield had been subjected to his fancies.
Hamish had seen it many times before. In fact, without evidence, he believed that it was quite frequent. He believed that it was a primary reason for which maids ran off to find a husb
and.
“What can you tell me about Miss Smithfield?” Hamish asked.
William Reid fidgeted with his hands and kept his eyes trained on them, although his back was straight.
“Nothing,” he said with a shrug.
“Nothing at all?” Hamish asked.
“She was a maid. Is that what you wish to know?” William asked, bitterly.
“I wish to know about the sort of interactions which occurred between the two of you,” Hamish said.
“Interactions? There were no interactions,” he replied.
“Are you quite certain? You sound a mite defensive and I am only asking in order to learn what happened when she disappeared,” Hamish said.
William paused, chewing his lip, before shaking his head.
“I know nothing of the girl,” he said.
The more he spoke with Mr. William Reid, the more certain he was. Something had transpired between him and Miss Smithfield. Something which she may not have wished for.
“So, you know nothing of Rachel?” Hamish asked, switching to Miss Smithfield’s given name in the hopes that William would take the bait.
“Nothing. Rachel was just a maid. I couldn’t have known her beyond that,” he said, falling into Hamish’s trap.
Hamish and John glanced at one another.
It had been easy, luring William Reid into the comfort of saying her name with familiarity. Something had passed between the two. And if he felt that he had leave to use her name, she may not have been adamantly against him, after all.
“You know, Mr. Reid, there are many men in this world who know their maids better than they ought to,” Hamish said.
William’s eyes widened and he fidgeted some more before shaking his head.
“You are being foolish. I don’t know what you are suggesting, but I don’t like it,” he said.
Hamish ran through the multitude of responses he could give in that moment, but settled on silence, leaning back against the settee and waiting.
“I have nothing more to say to you. Nothing at all,” he said.
“Then you may leave,” Hamish said.
As the young man departed from the room, Hamish gave John a look of understanding.
The two stood, ready to depart from the home.
Mrs. Buckley, the housekeeper, led them to the door. She politely saw them out and they made their way to the coach.
“Could be any of them, but my bet is on the boy,” John said.
“As is mine, John. I believe that he got the maid pregnant and then sent her away. I have seen such actions from men like him. It is only a shame that the child and mother alike should be so unlikely to see a farthing from him,” Hamish said.
“Indeed. I do believe you are right. I know it could be a number of other things, but it certainly makes sense,” John said.
Hamish had no evidence for the moment, but he believed that would change at some point. He was convinced that Miss Smithfield was all right. That was the most important part.
The question was, however, where was she?
Chapter 7
Georgiana tried to hide her nerves.
Sarah had agreed to come with her, even knowing that it could risk her entire position. However, the two were both so deeply concerned about Rachel’s whereabouts, that they were in agreement.
Silence was their contract.
They reached the precinct and she took a deep breath.
Walking through the doors was different this time. Previously, she had been with her father, she had been a woman protected.
Now, however, she was there with a chaperone who is barely older than she was. She was with the maid that her mother and father had agreed to let her leave the house, although they believed her to be having tea with Lady Tilton.
But now, they simply had to do their best to hide the truth.
She had to stand firm and look as though she belonged in the precinct.
With Sarah behind her, Georgiana walked directly to Inspector Brock’s office. She knocked, aware of the stares behind her, and waited.
“Come in,” came the voice on the other side of the door.
Georgiana and Sarah entered the room. Inspector Brock was poring over a stack of papers and did not look up at once.
“Good morning, Inspector,” she said.
He looked up at her and sighed.
“Ah, Miss Reid. Good morning. I cannot say why it is that I am surprised at seeing you here today,” he said.
Inspector Brock did not look overly pleased to see her. Georgiana tried to deny to herself the fact that it bothered her. After all, what did he matter? She cared about him only for the sake of finding Miss Smithfield. He meant nothing else to her.
And yet, when she looked closely at his face, she still could not deny the fact that he was very handsome. Even if he was not smiling, even if that perpetual frown remained, he was still lovely to behold.
She took her seat and Miss Sarah Dalton took the other, both sitting across the desk from the inspector.
“Now, what is it that I may help you with?” he asked.
“I wished to know if there had been any progress made,” Georgiana said.
“There has not. I assured you that I would come and speak with you once there was. Have I given you reason to think that I am not going to honour my word?” he asked.
“You have not, but I find that your silence has not helped me,” she said.
“My silence? Miss Reid, I assure you now, as I did before, that I have only been silent because there is nothing yet for me to tell. Your maid has not been found,” he said.
“But…” she began, trailing off.
“Miss Reid, may I ask you a question?” he asked.
She disliked his condescending tone and lifted her nose in the air.
“As you please, Inspector,” she said.
“You have come here with Miss Dalton, I see,” he said, acknowledging the maid. “But your father is not present. I am surprised that he would send you here with a maid as a chaperone as opposed to hiring a married woman as is customary or simply coming along himself.”
Georgiana froze for a moment but decided that there was no use in lying to him.
“If you must know, I left my mother and father with the impression that I was to be visiting a very fancy lady whose son has an interest in me,” she said, adding the last part in case he was bothered by it. There was something about this Inspector that gave her cause to learn whether or not he might be a jealous man.
