As it was, I’d had too long to think of Anna.
I pushed Miss Cassidy from my mind now and concentrated on the task at hand. The letter burned a hole in my breast pocket. The scent of jasmine left me feeling faintly ill. I’d recognised her hand, of course. The words, though, had been foreign. It didn’t matter. The affront was in the delivery.
She knew where I’d been hiding.
But worse still, she knew where Anna had been.
It had taken little to shatter the peace I had garnered in Auckland, but once the walls of my carefully built tower had tumbled, I’d packed my trunk and booked passage immediately.
Only to turn up at Queen Street Wharf to find Blackie.
I peered across the hansom at my travelling companion. His crooked nose and faintly scarred face seemed evil in the yellowed light of intermittent gas lamps. His beard was trimmed; the first time it had been so since boarding the Tongariro. His eyes flinty as they took in the streets of Limehouse. Fog thickened as we passed the kilns. Blackie didn’t stop watching.
If I had to have a man at my back, I’d take none other than James Blackmore.
I made a disgruntled sound, garnering the attention of the man himself.
“Time you ‘fessed up, sir,” he said softly. His words were mere wisps of breath in the confines of the carriage.
“There is nothing to confess, Blackmore.”
“I never seen you so distraught,” he murmured, making me shift on my side of the seat.
“Nonsense.”
“It ain’t like you to abandon your post.”
“You know nothing of me, Sergeant.” I’d abandoned posts before now.
“I know you’re loyal. To a fault. I know you’re a dedicated copper. I know you’re an honest man.”
“Fine traits, to be sure. But irrelevant. And not necessarily accurate.”
Blackie stared out of the window at the London Hospital. Its arched entranceways shrouded in fluttering shadows. Fog climbed the front steps as if hunting injured prey.
“What did the letter say, sir?” he said to the haze.
Like a thief in the night, he stole all air.
Slowly, Blackmore turned to look at me. “I seen you readin’ it. Your fingers white where you held the paper. Your face a matchin’ shade. You keep it in your pocket.” He nodded toward the breast pocket of my coat. “As if you can’t bear to be parted from it. But when you draw it out, thinkin’ yourself alone-like, your face betrays you.”
“Careful, Sergeant.”
“Ain’t no cause for care, sir. That letter hides the devil. I smelt the rat.”
The hansom rolled to an abrupt stop outside Leman Street Police Station. Silence descended inside and outside of the cab. Blackie held my stare. My heart beat too fast. From memories. From anticipation. From fear.
“If there’s a scheme afoot,” Blackie murmured. “I’d like in on it.” He sucked in a fortifying breath of air. “She’s my friend, too, sir.”
I ground my teeth and pushed open the door, stumbling down onto puddle-strewn cobbles. Blackie paid the driver and the handsom rolled off into the mist. The light from a nearby gas lamp left us in shadows. Matching the shadows of my heart.
I looked across the street to my former place of employment and waited for my pulse to settle.
“This is personal, Sergeant,” I said, watching the silhouettes of policemen through the windows.
“I understand, sir.”
“Then you agree, you’ve overstepped the mark?”
“Not at all, sir.”
Of course not. Blackie had never met a situation where he didn’t think he belonged.
I smiled grimly. Tapped my cane on the ground and crossed the street to the Police Station’s front door.
The familiar smell of lemon and vinegar met my nose.
And the all too familiar voice of Miss Cassidy froze my heart.
“What the…?” Blackie announced.
“Indeed,” I said, taking in every inch of Anna as if starved.
Don’t Get Ahead Of Yourself, Anna
Anna
“Where did you say you consulted?” the policeman behind the desk asked.
“Auckland, Chief Constable. I’d be willing to offer my expertise while I remain in London.”
“I see. And you don’t think we’ve not got our own surgeon?”
“I’m sure you do. But one more set of eyes can’t harm.”
“One more set of eyes, you say?”
“I’m really rather good,” I offered. “Did you hear about the bastard daughter of Sir William Withey Gull?”
“We get the broadsheets, madam. Even those what tell of the Antipodes.”
“I consulted on that case.”
“So you say.”
“Perhaps if I could speak to your superintendent?”
“Superintendent Arnold is out.”
“Then his inspector.”
“Inspector Reid is busy.”
“I’m sure he is,” I said, forcing a smile. “May I enquire as to your surgeon?”
“Listen, missy. I’m sure you think you’re a doctor, but this ain’t no parlour and it ain’t right for you to pretend such here.”
“I am not pretending. I graduated from the London School of Medicine for Women; I’ll have you know.” Today. But he needn’t be aware of that fact. “I am a doctor.”
“There are no cases requiring a woman’s hand,” the chief constable said offhandedly, shuffling papers on his desk as if that would indicate the end of the discussion.
“You do not have female victims?” I enquired mildly. “Perhaps prostitutes that require a more feminine touch?”
“Now, I’ll have none of that suffragette nonsense here. Women’s rights, my arse. You just get along…”
“Mind your tongue, Chief Constable Aldridge,” a voice said from behind me.
I knew that voice. My heart skipped a beat. My mind was playing tricks on me. Fear for Mina causing aural aberrations. I forced myself to turn.
“Well, I never,” the chief constable exclaimed. “If it ain’t Inspector Kelly. We’ve had no word of your return.”
Oh, my Lord, it was him. He was here. Right here. Inspector Andrew Kelly. My would-be guardian. Auckland’s finest. The man who held my heart. And refused to keep it. I couldn’t stop staring. His eyes, in turn, were locked on mine and not the officer at my back.
“Just visiting, Aldridge,” he said, not looking away from me. He sounded the same. Gruff but warm. Deep as an ocean. He looked the same, if not a little tired. Tall, broad of shoulder. Brown locks that hinted at auburn. His beard was clipped, his blue eyes shone vibrantly.
No one else existed but him.
“Oh, aye,” the chief constable said. “And thought you’d pop in and ‘ave a natter, eh? Oi! I guess you’d know this lady doctor, then?” The constable sniggered, making my skin itch. Or was that the hand holding my parasol readying to strike? “Said she’s a crime scene specialist from Auckland. What a load of bollocks!”
“Language,” Inspector Kelly said, his eyes finally leaving my face and glowering at the chief constable.
“Miss Cassidy,” Sergeant Blackmore said in greeting, off to Kelly’s side. I hadn’t even realised he’d been standing there. Embarrassment made my skin burn as I met the sergeant’s eyes.
“It’s Doctor Cassidy, Sergeant,” I murmured.
He smiled, but it was Andrew’s reaction that filled my heart to bursting.
“Doctor Cassidy,” he offered with an exultant smile. His eyes shone with understanding. A wealth of pride he couldn’t hide there. I longed to hear him say more.
“Bloody hell,” the chief constable said, interrupting the moment. “She’s not from Bedlam, then?”
“Not today, Chief Constable,” I managed, attempting to appear unruffled.
“Well, then,” the policeman said, looking about his desk as if an answer to this dilemma would be found.
“Why are you here, Anna?” Andrew as
ked quietly.
“Seeking employment,” I replied.
Andrew seemed perplexed. “In Whitechapel?”
“I’d heard such good things,” I jested. Blackmore scoffed, covering his smile with the sleeve of his jacket. Kelly ignored him.
“At this time of the day?” he pressed.
“I was just passing.”
“I repeat, Doctor. In Whitechapel?”
“Errands brought me this way.”
“Whitechapel,” Kelly reiterated. I was starting to get a little miffed.
“Yes, Inspector. My legs are quite capable of taking me to all number of places. I dare say, should I feel so inclined, I could walk the streets of Lambeth on occasion.”
Kelly narrowed his eyes. Then said, “What’s happened in Lambeth?”
The infuriating man.
“Murders, Inspector,” the chief constable supplied. “Tarts. Dirty puzzles. Dollymops.”
“Yes, I understand the meaning, Chief Constable. How many so far?”
“Two. You back for good, then?”
“Only two,” Kelly said, clever eyes twinkling.
“And a scare at the Metropole Hotel,” I added for good measure.
“Now, none of that,” Chief Constable Aldridge reprimanded. “We’ll not have you starting a riot. Nothing’s confirmed. ’Twas someone playing a lark, ‘sall.”
“No one’s here to start a riot, Chief Constable,” I said. “But the scandal sheets did say a letter was left with the manager, did they not?”
Aldridge shifted nervously behind his desk. “Not our district,” he said succinctly.
“Soho,” Kelly declared. “And the murders were in Lambeth?”
“Yes, sir,” Aldridge replied. “Are you back, then?”
“What was in the letter, Chief Constable?”
“I’m not sure I should say, sir.”
“Of course you can,” Kelly argued. “Have we not worked on this type of case in the past?”
“Yes, sir. And ’twas right exciting to get your correspondence regarding Gull. Reid was all aflutter, he was. But, sir, you ain’t a London copper now, is you?”
“I am still an Inspector, Chief Constable.”
“Yes, sir. By all accounts, a good one. But Superintendent Arnold won’t like me barking.”
“Is he in?” Kelly asked immediately. “I should like to pay my respects.”
Aldridge looked at me and then grumbled under his breath.
“Of course, sir. You know the way.”
“Thank you,” Kelly said and offered me his arm.
I smiled up at him; how could I not? It was like old times. If old times were not laced with so much heartache.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Anna,” Andrew murmured. “I know you’re here for more than a job.”
“I’m merely offering my services, Inspector. Crime is on the rise, after all.”
He stared down at me as we navigated the narrow corridors of the police station.
“Hmmm,” he said doubtfully and softly stroked a thumb over my hand.
Oh, Bother
Inspector Kelly
What was she playing at? I could hardly guess. This was Anna Cassidy. Anything was possible. If she got it into her very intelligent mind to meddle in the affairs of the local constabulary, then woe betide any who got in her way.
Anna. Here at Leman Street Station. My Anna. And my past come back to haunt me.
Her closeness was torture I’d gladly bear. Her scent as sweet as any blossom. She looked paler than I remembered. Her skin nearing porcelain in texture, her eyes two luminous orbs of storm grey. I longed to run my fingers through her thick, dark hair. Brush the tendril that curled at her temple behind her ear.
Anna was not unaware of my affections. But she was aware of why I could not act on them.
She wore a rich blue dress; out of mourning for her father. The vibrant colour made the police station seem a dark den. She walked with purpose as if an audience with the superintendent was rightfully hers to claim. Chin lifted, eyes ahead. Pulse thundering on the side of her neck.
Anna. What have you got yourself into?
My hand involuntarily tightened on her arm. I forced myself to lower it; to move it away. If I had the strength to spare, I’d move away completely. But Anna always laid me bare. Stripped me raw. Tempted me in a fashion that was not entirely gentlemanly.
I’d break a thousand rules for her. But not that one.
She deserved far better than me.
Superintendent Arnold’s door approached, and my own pulse quickened. Our last conversation had not been fit for ladies’ ears. My presence would only tarnish Anna. But she walked beside me as if honoured I was there.
If she knew the secrets I harboured, she’d run the other way.
I lifted my hand and knocked, waited for the obligatory shout to enter, and then pushed the door open for Anna to precede me. I noted the way she took in the entirety of the old man’s office. Her eyes scanning the books on criminal behaviour, the small scientific experiments laid out below a shrouded window, the uncomfortable, hard-backed chairs before the large leather-topped desk, the dried rose petals that stood in a jar to his right.
It took her a mere second to scan the contents of Arnold’s room. Contents that hadn’t changed in the five years since I’d last been here. Did she see what he wanted her to see? Or did Anna see beneath the act the superintendent put on?
“Inspector Kelly,” Thomas Arnold greeted. “This is a surprise.”
“Good day, Superintendent Arnold. May I introduce my companions. Dr Anna Cassidy, lately of Temple Bar, formerly of Auckland, New Zealand. And Sergeant James Blackmore of Auckland Police.”
Arnold nodded gruffly, shaking Blackmore’s hand and addressing Anna with another nod of his head. His sharp eyes returned to me.
“In Whitechapel, no less,” he said, the words heavy.
“Passing through,” I offered.
“To where?” he called my bluff.
“Lambeth.” Silence. Heavy from all those in the room. Blackie looked stoically forward as if we’d discussed this and he knew exactly where I was going and why. Anna’s shoulders stiffened, but she remained calm at my side.
“Now what would an Auckland copper want in Lambeth?”
“I’m on the hunt,” I advised.
“Name?”
“I’m not at liberty to divest.”
Arnold stared me down. The moment stretched. And then he gruffly indicated the seats in front of his desk, waiting for Anna to take one, and then sat down. Blackie and I followed suit; Blackie’s chair further back in the room. Mine beside Anna’s as if we presented a united front.
His eyes scanned all three of us and came to rest on Anna.
“Dr Cassidy,” he said. “You have immigrated from the Antipodes?”
“A finite stay, sir. One which, I fear, is nearing its end.”
The news was welcome, but I refused to show a reaction.
“You did not accompany Inspector Kelly and Sergeant Blackmore?” Arnold enquired.
“No, sir. I am visiting with my cousin, Wilhelmina Cassidy.” Anna sat forward slightly in her chair. The movement catching my eye, despite its modest motion. She held her breath, and then, perhaps noting my attention, released it.
The action was forced.
I turned back to look at Arnold to see if he had noticed.
He had.
“And yet you attend me with two police officers?”
“Merely chance,” Anna offered. “And old acquaintances.”
“For certain, Auckland is that small a city?”
Anna smiled. It was at once beguiling and altogether mischievous. I had no idea what Arnold was thinking, but I was drowning in my Anna.
I shook myself and looked to the superintendent. His eyes met mine.
“Dr Cassidy has helped the Auckland Police Force on occasion,” I offered. “Her father was the former police surgeon.”
“Ah,” Arnold s
aid. “Mystery solved.” Was it?
“I believe you have murders in Lambeth,” I said, deciding Arnold had entertained his curiosity in regards to Miss Cassidy long enough. “Would you be of a mind to share details?”
“’Tis not my district, Kelly, and you know it. You’d have to converse with L Division.”
“Fair enough,” I replied. “What are the scandal sheets saying?”
“The usual. Gossip and hearsay. Nothing remotely accurate.”
“Two dead. You fear more?”
“Hard to say. The Metropole debacle didn’t help.”
“The letter,” I pressed, remembering what Anna had said to the chief constable.
“A fabrication. But strychnine has a habit of making all concerned excitable.”
My pulse thundered. My vision darkened. My skin felt altogether too clammy.
“A woman’s poison, sir,” Blackmore said, perhaps aware of my sudden inattention. “Hardly a woman’s crime, though, if you don't mind me saying.”
“Indeed, Sergeant. Nasty business. But then those types of women are more inclined to come off second best.”
“Those types, Superintendent?” I heard Anna ask.
“A discussion best left for different company,” Arnold gruffly remarked.
“Don’t curb your tongue for me, Superintendent. I am a physician, after all.”
“Yes, well, be that as it may, this really is inappropriate. Inspector Kelly, how long do you intend to stay in London? Hunting.”
“Until I catch my prey.”
“Can H Division be of assistance?” The offer was made freely. The assistance would come at a price.
“Thank you, sir. But I believe L Division is where we’ll be starting.”
“Lambeth,” Arnold said flatly. “The last time you hunted, Spitalfields was your range.”
“Indeed,” I said standing. “Times change.”
“Do they?” Arnold queried mildly. Anna stood, forcing the superintendent and Blackie to do the same. “A pleasure, Dr Cassidy,” he said.
“Likewise,” Anna replied, offering a small bob of her head.
Breathless (Scarlet Suffragette, Book 2): A Victorian Historical Romantic Suspense Series Page 3