Breathless (Scarlet Suffragette, Book 2): A Victorian Historical Romantic Suspense Series

by Nicola Claire

  I scowled at the dirt packed courtyard. If Henry Tempest thought we were close on his tail, then he’d behave as if the hounds of hell were on him.

  “Thank you for your help,” I said to the horseman and walked the short distance to reach Blackie.

  “Is it ‘im, sir?” he asked.

  “Yes. Ahead of us somehow.”

  “He couldn’t ‘ave beat the train ‘ere, could he?”

  I shook my head.

  “Then how?”

  “I do not know, Sergeant,” I said curtly, approaching our hired conveyance and assisting Anna in boarding. “However, it does not change a thing. We ride for Wynyard Park and confront him.”

  The coachman nodded his head at the mention of our destination, climbing atop the driver’s bench, as we all followed Dr Cassidy inside the carriage itself.

  It smelled musty and damp, but thankfully the seats were dry enough to sit upon. Anna perched to one side, allowing me space to sit beside her. Reid and Blackie sat opposite us. My eyes met the inspector’s just as the vehicle began to move forward.

  “And then there’s Lord Londonderry, of course,” he said, once we were all seated. “Accusing a peer of the realm is not a task to be taken lightly.”

  “Have you changed your mind, Reid?” I demanded.

  “I’m here, aren’t I?” he snapped back.

  “What if Mina is at the mines?” Anna asked, her face so very pale. Her raven hair seemed darker for it. Her skin almost porcelain white in the early morning light that shone through the window.

  “I sincerely doubt it,” I offered, wanting to give comfort in a more physical manner. I forced myself to offer only words.

  Anna might not fear society’s reaction to our relationship, but I knew differently. Even amongst friends - although I could hardly call Reid a friend - we would be judged. I, at one time, would have judged, as well. Life takes on a different meaning when it is oneself who cannot resist temptation.

  “We can safely say,” I added, “Miss Cassidy was not abducted along with the orphans by error. Their abduction merely proved a useful cover. Her role in this tragedy is not one of manning the mines during a time of discord. No, I would hazard a guess, Lord Londonderry did not lead Wilhelmina away. It was his nephew. Acting under the instruction of my wife.”

  “Then Henry Tempest,” Blackie added, “works both for his uncle’s nefarious means and Mary Moriarty’s.”

  I appreciated the effort the sergeant took to not use my wife’s married name.

  “Two different crimes?” Reid pressed. “We charge Londonderry with the missing children, which one can only assume are being used in the mines. And Tempest Esquire for the abduction of Miss Cassidy.”

  “Yes.”

  “What of the bribery at the Old Bailey?” Anna offered.

  “Ah, the Old Bailey,” I said, wishing I had my cane to tap on the floorboards before me. I felt naked without it; off balance. At any moment I expected my leg to give out and to tumble to the ground in an embarrassing heap. I could not rely on Blackie to offer support, and I would never place such a burden on Anna. In the face of Reid’s continued assessment, I kept the weight off my bad leg and pretended I was whole.

  The more Eliza May became entwined in this debacle, however, the less whole I was perceived to be.

  “Tempest is extorting legal privileges from Justice Blackborough,” I surmised. “I am certain on the direction of his uncle.”

  “He did advise he was tasked with checking his uncle’s London holdings,” Anna announced. “To ensure whatever strife the Marquess was experiencing up North had not reached the city.”

  “Tempest told you this?” I asked.

  “He did. He referred to it all as being rather dull.”

  “Of course he would,” Blackie declared. “Not much excitement to be ‘ad in the Old Bailey.”

  “Not like that which he would find in The Blind Beggar’s backrooms,” Reid agreed. They both sniggered as if their camaraderie allowed such.

  “And then there is Mary Moriarty,” I mused. “And the telegraph boy’s unprecedented bail.”

  “Both bribing the judge?” Blackie enquired.

  “A strange coincidence, is it not?” I offered.

  “So, the connection is the Old Bailey,” Reid surmised. “All three players have ties there.”

  I nodded.

  “And then there is the Lambeth Poisonings,” Anna added.

  “Complicates matters, does it not?” I said with a small smile. I was not amused, so much as overwhelmed at my wife’s duplicities.

  Yet again, Eliza May had managed to twist my world upside down.

  Perhaps Anna was correct. Perhaps it was time to disassociate myself from the woman. I could hardly be blamed for seeking a dissolution of our relationship when such heinous crimes were being committed.

  But assigning blame to Eliza May would prove difficult. And although she had no intention of acting the wife she had at one time pretended to be, I was in no doubt she would fight me on the legalities.

  Without a conviction, a divorce was not guaranteed.

  But for Anna, I could attempt such a thing.

  For my own peace of mind, I could face reality.

  I did not love my wife. I despised her. It might not be a truth I wished all to hear, but I had been duped by love. Tricked by my own feelings of devotion. For what I provided my wife was not protection and adoration, as a husband is wont to do. But access to case files and the inner workings of the Metropolitan Police Force.

  I was a tool, just as I assumed Henry Tempest was a tool. To be used and discarded.

  I felt no empathy toward the fool. We each had our crosses to bear. But I did understand the allure Eliza May presented. For could she not be desirable when it suited her to be?

  “Why kill the doxies, though?” Blackie demanded. “The telegraph boy makes sense. She aimed to frame you, sir. But the whores? I just don't get it.”

  “There is no need to understand her motives, suffice it to say she likes to upset things. She revels in the Met’s disquiet. Watches as they run around like ants seeking a succulent piece of the puzzle. She directs their efforts and places them where she so pleases. The chessboard is her stage, gentlemen, and we are but her pawns upon it.”

  “She sounds evil if you don't mind me saying,” Reid said softly. I wasn't sure, but I thought I might have seen a hint of compassion in his eyes as he looked to me.

  “She is evil personified,” I announced, staring out of the side of the carriage, not wishing to discuss the matter further.

  County Durham swept past; the verdant greens of pastures, mixed with the brightness of whitewashed farmhouses. Small holdings with humble people. Each paying their dues to their lord liege.

  “We have entered Wynyard Estate’s grounds,” I offered.

  “Then we’ll face her soon,” Anna announced with all the calm and serenity of an avenging angel.

  How could I bring her into such horrors? My thoughts drifted to Wilhelmina.

  How could I keep Anna away when so much was weighted on this confrontation?

  I would do it. I would seek a divorce. I would end my association with Eliza May once and for all.

  I kept my eyes on the landscape but reached a hand over to grasp Anna’s fingers where they rested on the seat between us.

  She squeezed mine back in support.

  But At What Cost

  Anna

  Wynyard Hall appeared on the horizon when the coach crested the final hill then paused as if the horses themselves needed to take a breath when faced with such splendour.

  Cream walls and deep-set windows spanned the view as far as the eye could fathom. A modest two stories in height, there was nothing else remotely modest about the structure. The east and west wings were as large, if not larger than the original building. Fanning out on either side as if some giant butterfly stretching its gossamer wings. A rounded façade was mirrored on the opposing side of the grand entrance. Two curved
sentinels directing one’s line of sight to the door. Sweeping steps made their path toward the doorway, pulling the eye toward what could only be called a god-sized portal to the heavens.

  A lake lay before the house, small specks of white floating upon it. A plethora of greens met the eye, covering every surface. Trees and grass and hedges and flowers. The lawn was well manicured, as was the sweeping private road we were riding upon. The edges trimmed to perfection, not a stray pebble out of place even as the wheels of our coach clattered over them.

  Ornate statues were dotted about the property. Pergolas and rotundas and vine arbors sat with ease upon the landscape. Ivy grew up the east wall. Roses next to the west. A solitary coach stood before the door. The horseman seeing to the slick bodied horses, their state an indication of the speed and endurance of each beast. A coachman removed luggage from the overhead rack, coming back for more and then more.

  Henry had planned his visit home. And had executed it in lightning fashion. Riding his horses to near death, racing a steam engine which could manage forty miles per hour on average. But then, he would not have had to stop, save to switch out horses, and we’d had delays at Cambridge, Peterborough, Lincoln, Doncaster, York, and finally Darlington.

  It was an interesting experiment to prove a four-in-hand could outrun a NER Class M1 steam engine manufactured in the 1890s. Modernity was not always an answer to our prayers.

  Not Henry Tempest’s prayers, at any case.

  “Well, this is it,” Inspector Reid announced unnecessarily. “Our admittance will depend on Lord Londonderry’s favour, and seeing as we’ve been soundly beaten in the race to reach Wynyard first, I’d hazard a guess we’ll meet with some opposition.”

  “We have the law on our side,” Andrew murmured.

  “Do we?” Reid challenged. “We have supposition and conjecture. Have you forgotten Her Majesty’s law, then?”

  “The Tempest carriage witnessed at Lambeth Workhouse the morning of a murder,” Andrew said levelly, meeting the inspector’s hard stare. “Henry Tempest overheard by myself bribing Justice Blackborough at his uncle’s behest in the Old Bailey. It is enough to gain entry.”

  “And once we’re inside?” Reid enquired.

  “We seek the truth of Miss Cassidy’s whereabouts. Or have you forgotten how to elicit information from an unwilling suspect?”

  Reid made a growling sound.

  “Then there’s the mines,” Sergeant Blackmore offered. “We would not be out of place to insist on an inspection, considerin’ the accusations that ‘ave been made, of course.”

  “All of which are not official,” Reid supplied in a surly rumble.

  “He need not know of this,” Andrew countered.

  Reid met his steady gaze, held it for a moment, and then nodded his head.

  “Sometimes the law is an ass,” Andrew murmured, making me smile.

  How I could smile at a time like this was beyond me. I felt so close to Mina at last. So close and so uncertain. What had transpired in the days she had been separated from me? How had she fared when Wilhelmina is not accustomed to such variety?

  Her wanderings of late may have imbued her with a false sense of protection. The more she saw of London, the braver she had seemed. She had not required my companionship for some months now. A reality that I cursed now for its stupidity. Had I insisted on accompanying her, she may well not have been taken. Had I paid her more attention, instead of throwing my heart and mind into my studies, she may not have sought out further entertainment.

  For clearly Marie Tussaud’s and the nearly completed Tower Bridge had lost their lustre. The Royal Albert Hall and the Crystal Palace no longer enough to hold her attention. She had moved on to more dangerous pastimes. Pastimes I may have been able to help her avoid if I had paid her more attention. For the first time since writing to the London School of Medicine for Women, I regretted my motivations. I regretted my passions. My singular focus to be recognised as a professional woman amongst men.

  I regretted my suffrage leanings. My blinkered vision of equality for women.

  I regretted it all, for whatever had transpired to my darling Wilhelmina, it was due by virtue of my selfish desires.

  I willed my shaking hands to still, clasping them firmly in my lap as the coach made a sweeping circle in front of the grand entrance. I could not afford self-recrimination now. There was no time to wallow in self-pity. What was done was done, and my guilt would not be assuaged by my musings. All that was left to me now was to save Mina from Mary Moriarty.

  From Eliza May Kelly.

  I turned my formidable focus to what was to come, not what had been. Our arrival would have already been noted, I was sure, but the carriage itself was unmarked. From its state of repair, however, one could easily surmise it was a hired conveyance. But how that would affect our greeting I did not know.

  The coachman pulled the vehicle to a stop, the horses whickering quietly. Stillness met the air and hung suspended like the blade of a guillotine. Right over my wretched neck. Reid let out a disgruntled sound. I wished to mirror it. Then the H Division inspector was out of the door, Sergeant Blackmore following, leaving me alone with Andrew.

  I was not sure I could face his condemnation, as well as my own. I could not look at him. But I also could not give him my back and exit the carriage.

  “Anna,” he said.

  “I am accompanying you, so please do not say what it is that urges you onward.”

  “I would not ask that of you.”

  “You wouldn’t?” I looked to him, unable to stop myself, and saw the sincerity there.

  For the first time in so many minutes, I felt grounded. I let out a breath of air.

  He shook his head, reaching over and taking hold of my fingers in his, running a thumb over my wrist, so intimately.

  “I merely wish to tell you my answer,” he said.

  “Answer?” I was lost to those swirling depths of deep blue. To the earnest plea, I could see within them. To the settling of my heartbeat from his mere presence.

  “I will seek a dissolution of my marriage upon our return to London,” he said, making it suddenly impossible to breathe any air at all. “It is time. You were right. If you are prepared to face what may come, then I shall gladly have you at my side.”

  “Oh, Andrew,” I said, unable to fashion a more fitting reply.

  Someone knocked on the side of the carriage, and then Reid poked his head back in the door.

  “Now is not the time to seduce the good doctor, Kelly. We’ve got company, and if accusations are to be made, by God, I’m not doing this alone.”

  Andrew nodded his head, straightened his cravat, reached for his cane; which was not there. For a moment I saw such a depth of loss cross his features that I sat back. Moved myself away from the emotion as if it would somehow rub off on me should I sit too close to it.

  He nodded his head again to Reid, shifted his weight to his good leg, grimaced, and then stepped out of the carriage.

  And all I could think was what have I done? What had I been thinking asking this of him?

  I cursed my desperate longing for this man; the need that overrode all logic.

  I cursed my many, many failings.

  I had asked of him the impossible, and he would endeavour to provide it.

  But at what cost?

  But at what cost were my many failings?

  And Then Everyone Was Yelling At Once

  Inspector Kelly

  The ornate front door opened without us needing to announce our presence. It could have been because the Tempest carriage was still being unloaded, but even I knew luggage did not go through the front door of a house such as this.

  No, we’d been expected. I’d hazard a guess, Henry Tempest himself had been watching our arrival from an upstairs’ window.

  “Can I help you, sirs? Madam?” the footman enquired pleasantly.

  Reid flashed his H Division credentials, saving me the effort of having to explain my prese
nce twelve thousand miles from my place of employment.

  “Inspector Edmund Reid,” he announced. “I’d like to speak to the Marquess if you please.”

  “Lord Londonderry is not in residence at present.”

  “He’s not back in London, is he?” Reid asked with a decided air of disgruntlement.

  “No, sir. He is at the mine.”

  “Business called him away, then, eh?” Reid pressed. The footman merely smiled.

  Well trained. But to hide what?

  “Who else is in residence, then?” Reid asked.

  “Is there a purpose to your visit, Inspector?” the footman asked.

  “My purpose is with the lord of the house and his guests,” Reid snapped. The footman flinched. Well trained but inexperienced.

  “Perhaps you would like to wait in the drawing-room?” the footman suggested, just as a pinched looking man wearing the Londonderry livery scurried up behind the boy.

  “That will be all, thank you, Turner,” the man said. “Gentlemen, lady, may I be of assistance?”

  “And you are?” Reid asked.

  “His Lordship’s butler. Samson.”

  “Well, Mr Samson, we seem to have missed the Marquess, but our business is of the utmost importance.”

  “I’m sure it is,” the butler sneered.

  Reid ignored his effrontery. “May we await his Lordship’s return inside?”

  “You would do well to return on the morrow, sir. Lord Londonderry is a busy man. Appointments must be made.”

  “Would we do well to attend him at the mine instead?” I enquired, receiving a scowl for my efforts.

  “If you must, you may wait in the servants’ hall,” the man acquiesced, gracelessly.

  “Our business is best kept out of the servants’ quarters,” Reid replied softly. The butler stared him down for several drawn out seconds, and then relented, opening the door fully and indicating the direction to take once inside.

  The drawing room was overly warm, a fire burning in the hearth. It had not long been empty.