I found myself returning his smile as I unrolled his shirtsleeve and fastened his cufflink back into the buttonhole. I could have induced him to work off his cocaine-induced agitation somewhere other than the university, if Randall Chalmers hadn’t burst in at that point.
‘Gregory, do you have an écraseur I can borrow? I’m covering McLeod’s surgical lecture and I need to talk some fourth years through a tumour removal.’
He stopped short at the sight of a jacketless Merchiston standing rather too close for decency to an unaccompanied woman.
‘Sarah, you need to leave. Now. This is completely inappropriate.’ He turned to Merchiston. ‘For heaven’s sake, Gregory. We’ve spoken about this. It could damage both of your reputations.’
I stood in the hallway, mind whirling. Oh, it wasn’t unusual for doctors to self-medicate, and what he was using was commonly prescribed – my father had taken some in a small dose for toothache once, and had been unimpressed when I stole the packet to read the label. But at eight o’clock in the morning, injected straight into the vein – that wasn’t medicine. Anger surged up inside me. Did he really think I was sleeping? My fiancé had been arrested, I was in the middle of a murder investigation, I had turned down a proposal from the only man I could really see myself married to and I had an anatomy practical in half an hour. If I was managing perfectly well on strong black coffee, so could he.
When Randall emerged, he sighed when he saw me standing there.
‘I had hoped – foolishly, I know – that you had left.’ He looked stern. ‘He’s not in a state to receive visitors now, and even if he were, I don’t have to remind you that you are not permitted to be alone with him.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘God knows I wouldn’t have wanted Elisabeth to see this.’
‘Has he been like this before?’
‘Not for years. There was a . . . bad patch when Isobel and William died. I thought we’d seen the last of it, especially when he was so worried about Lucy. He wanted to be a good example for her when she finally came back into the fold.’
But she would never return. He had thrown himself into this case – and, I suspected, partly into his proposal to me – in an effort to outrun the tidal wave of grief that he had to know he would never escape. And when it looked as though it would come crashing down around him, he turned to whisky or fighting or cocaine.
‘He’s drinking to forget his sorrows and injecting cocaine to stay alert,’ I said softly. ‘And I’ve seen the bruises. He’s been at the boxing ring.’
‘Gregory’s always had a self-destructive streak,’ Randall admitted. ‘That wilful defiance that Lucy had – it’s in him too. He can keep it chained up most of the time, but he’s had a bloody few months.’ He shook his head. ‘You shouldn’t be here. People are going to start arriving soon and there’ll be talk if you’re found loitering in corridors. Elisabeth is downstairs. Go and join her.’
I resented being scolded like a naughty child, but I forced a smile onto my face and went to find my best friend.
‘I can’t stop thinking about poor Blackwell.’ She frowned. ‘Do you think there’s some way I could discreetly send money to her sister and child?’
I squeezed her arm. ‘Has anyone ever told you that you’re entirely too good?’
She pulled a face. ‘I am not. But separating a mother from her child just because she’s unmarried, that’s wicked. I can’t imagine the pain that poor girl must be in . . .’ She trailed off, and I hugged her again. Despite wishing for it more than anything in the world, Elisabeth was yet to be a mother. There had been a moment over Christmas that she’d hoped, but just as quickly those hopes had been dashed. ‘Who would blackmail the poor girl over one mistake?’
‘A lot of people,’ I said grimly. ‘The world is hardly kind to unwed mothers. If it hadn’t been for her sister, the child would probably have ended up in the workhouse.’
Elisabeth shivered. ‘Well, I hope we catch whoever’s behind these ghastly events soon. Alisdair knows more than he’s letting on, I’m sure.’
‘That’s what I intend to find out.’
She frowned. ‘Why do I get the impression that you’re about to do something completely reckless?’
‘He asked me to call on him at his hotel,’ I whispered.
Her eyes widened with shock. ‘Did you tell him that would be completely inappropriate, and slap him for good measure?’
‘Not exactly,’ I confessed.
‘Sarah, no man invites a woman to call on him at his hotel with innocent motivation. He’s a blackguard! He’s a rake! He’s—’
‘Any number of synonyms for “cad”, I know. But he likes me. He might reveal more than he realises if I question him. He’s like a flower that blooms under women’s attention.’
‘The kind of attention he’ll want from you is not the kind you’ll want to provide,’ she warned.
I shuddered. I didn’t like the weight of his gaze on me but I’d be damned if I let that stop me. I wouldn’t be some wilting creature jumping at shadows any more. If I had to beard the lion in his den, so be it.
‘I’m going after lectures. I’ve told Aunt Emily I’m dining at yours again, and I will come over the moment I’m done. If I’m not there by six, send Randall to find me.’
‘And what good will that do?’ she demanded. ‘By six o’clock, you could be murdered, or . . . or . . .’
‘I know,’ I said softly. ‘And believe me, I don’t want to risk my life or the tattered remains of my virtue either. That’s why I have a plan.’
Elisabeth looked resigned, as though she already knew that whatever my plan was, it was risky if not downright dangerous.
‘Can you cover for me at luncheon?’ I said. ‘I need to slip out and buy some arsenic.’
Chapter 32
If I had wondered why the heir to the Greene fortune wasn’t staying somewhere more ostentatious, the North British Hotel perhaps, with its view of the castle and proximity to restaurants and music halls, my questions would have been answered as I swept into the lobby of the Carew, an unaccompanied woman asking to meet with a man, and not a single eyebrow was raised. I was ushered into a private parlour, small but richly furnished. The dark green velvet settee would not, I thought, accommodate two people who wished to keep a respectable amount of distance from one another. Then again, respectable wasn’t what I had in mind.
Without my having to ask, a glass of champagne was set next to me. I glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece in case I had somehow dreamed half the day away, but it was still a little past two in the afternoon. In London society, this would be cause for a raised eyebrow or two; in Edinburgh, it was unheard of. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, wishing I had chosen a more practical outfit – or at least a less exposing one.
The dress was a rich burgundy with a matching cape trimmed with mink, cinched so tightly that my ribs ached. I was uncomfortably aware of the way it put my embonpoint on display, pushed up and out like lamb’s livers on a serving platter. My gloves stuck to my palms. I wished I had brought my medical bag. Without it, I felt curiously unprotected. But Alisdair needed to believe that I wanted him, and I had to remind him that I was a woman, not a doctor.
Once I was finished, Gregory Merchiston would never know the details of what I had done to aid our investigation, but he would be in my debt until the end of time and I would make sure he knew it. Had he known I was here, intending to flirt my way into finding proof, he would have stopped me. It was simpler – if a little riskier – for no one to know where I was.
The door creaked, and I willed myself not to startle; to look like a woman of the world instead of a trembling girl.
Alisdair smiled warmly and crossed to take my hands in his.
‘Miss Gilchrist!’
He peeled my glove off tenderly, turned my hand over and pressed a warm kiss to the centre of my palm. Despite the situation – despite the man – something low down inside me gave a jolt of pleasure. It was enough to make me want to sla
p him.
‘Mr Greene!’ My blushes at least were not feigned, although I tried to look coy rather than furious.
‘I was hoping you’d call. I wasn’t sure that you would.’ How could such a notorious rogue look like a shy schoolboy, flustered at his first kiss? I could see how some women would find it endearing, distracting enough to miss the predatory glint in his eye.
‘I shouldn’t be here,’ I whispered hoarsely.
‘But you are. I knew from the moment I met you that you were different. An educated woman, so knowledgeable about the human body and its mysteries . . . I must admit, I envy your patients.’ He came to stand before me, his hands heavy on my shoulders, moving with a gentle and unwanted caress. ‘What a crime it would have been, sentencing you to a life with a man who could never truly appreciate you.’
He traced my jawline with his fingertip.
‘I was going through my father’s papers when I stumbled across the most interesting reference to your good self and an incident in London with a certain gentleman.’ He flashed me a wolfish grin. ‘I won’t insult your reputation by asking if you know which gentleman I’m referring to.’
I felt the floor lurch beneath me as though we were on a ship. I had to concentrate. The details of my shame were not important now. I could relive it a thousand times later if I had to, but for now, Alisdair was my only concern. He wasn’t wearing the expression of someone who had discovered that his sister-in-law-to-be was a harlot, an unvirtuous cuckoo in the nest. It was the expression of a man who had invited a woman to his hotel and thought he was getting far more than afternoon tea.
Before I realised he was moving, his mouth was on my neck, hot and wet. He took my gasp of surprise as arousal, and groaned against my skin. I wanted nothing more than to turn in his arms, raise my knee and repeat that move that had brought tears to Merchiston’s eyes.
Instead, I pulled back as far as I dared while still giving him the impression I found his attentions pleasing instead of revolting.
‘Won’t someone come in?’
‘I tip generously.’ His mouth returned to my neck. ‘We won’t be disturbed.’
I glanced to the door. ‘It doesn’t seem very private.’
He chuckled. ‘You little minx. You don’t have to feign modesty, you know. If you want me to take you to bed, then all you have to do is ask.’ His mouth brushed mine and I could feel his teeth against my lower lip.
I couldn’t say no, not if I wanted to find whatever he was so eager to keep hidden.
‘You’re married,’ I murmured, hoping the trembling of my voice sounded like desire rather than revulsion. ‘I’m engaged to your brother!’
‘I was under the impression that engagement had been called off, unless you’re desperate enough to flout your family’s wishes, not to mention becoming a widow before your wedding night.’ He smiled, but all I could see was teeth. ‘Some would say that’s the best part of a wedding.’ I wondered if his wife felt the same way. ‘There’s a discreet staircase; we won’t be seen.’
He pulled a handle hidden on the side of a bookshelf and it swung open, revealing a passage. Honestly, it was like a Gothic novel written by a lecher.
I ascended the stairs after him, until he stopped suddenly to press me up against the wall, kissing me feverishly as he left me in no doubt whatsoever of his physical affection for me. Panic gripped me, coupled with the increasing likelihood of my being sick all over him if he didn’t stop. I was going to have to distract him with whatever means I had at my disposal if I was to avoid giving myself to a man with a touch like an octopus – omnipresent and disgustingly damp.
‘Not here,’ I gasped into his mouth, in an effort to stop him putting his tongue in mine.
He pulled me up to a narrow door that led into a large, well-appointed bedroom. There was a desk, a bureau, a wardrobe and a cabinet – but all I could see was the bed that dominated the room. I sat down on it tentatively.
‘Could I have something to drink?’ I asked.
‘Nervous?’
I nodded, and he smiled as he poured me a glass from the decanter on the table.
I took a large gulp and choked. Gin.
‘Perhaps some water?’ There was a jug on the bureau with two glasses, and I poured with shaking hands.
Alisdair stuck his head out of the main door and yelled at a passing footman to bring a bottle of Moët. ‘As chilled as you can get it.’
When he returned, I was at the window, gazing out onto the street.
‘Quite the view.’ Somehow, I didn’t think he meant the street outside.
I felt his arms encircling my waist and my muscles turned to lead. I reached to hand him a glass of water as I sipped from mine, and he took a long gulp.
‘You’re enough to make a good dog break his leash, Miss Gilchrist.’
I smiled coyly. ‘Under the circumstances, I think you can call me Sarah.’
His hand went to the hem of my skirt and I felt it lifting. What was I doing? What in this blasted investigation mattered so much that I was willing to put myself through this again? I braced myself for whatever came next.
Instead, Alisdair pulled away. ‘Forgive me.’ He made a dash for the water closet, and the sound of vomiting echoed through the closed door.
I glanced around the room. How blurry the boundaries between right and wrong seemed in pursuit of justice. Was this what Fiona had thought? That the end justified the means so utterly that the oath she had taken – the one I yearned to take – no longer mattered?
I rummaged through the desk drawers as silently and quickly as I could, coming up with a half-empty bottle of cologne and what on closer inspection looked like one of the sponges I had seen prostitutes soak with vinegar and insert inside . . . I dropped it quickly and moved on to the next drawer. It was empty, save for one envelope – and the name on the envelope was my own.
I ripped it open and scanned the contents.
Miss Gilchrist
I observed you entering the CAREW HOTEL on the night of 26th Feb., 1893, to meet with Mr ALISDAIR GREENE. You were seen going to his rooms and emerging some time later looking dishevelled. Hotel staff report hearing noises of a carnal nature emanating from behind the door of the room, and a device known to prevent conception was found in the bedside cabinet, believed to be left behind by you.
Given your existing reputation (I refer to your illicit consummation with PAUL BERESFORD in the Jan. of 1892 at his house in Robinson Crescent), I have reason to believe that should this become public, it would end both your engagement and your future plans. In order to assist with keeping this matter quiet, I require the sum of £500 to be placed in an envelope and left behind the bar at the SPECKLED FROG in Haymarket. Should you fail to do so, I will be unable to prevent the news of your assignation from becoming public.
Yours,
A Friend
Bile rose in my throat. Alisdair had been confident of his chances with me, then. Of course I had given him reason to believe that he had caught my eye, but the idea that he would have bedded me and then blackmailed me over it made me feel ill. So much for not wanting to taint me with scandal. I shoved the letter in my pocket and opened the other drawers. They were full of unpaid bills and creditors’ letters, and I realised that the blind eye the hotel staff turned to female visitors wasn’t the only reason Alisdair had chosen this over the considerably more expensive North British Hotel. He had no money, and with his inheritance taking too long to materialise, he had resorted to extorting his family. With his father barely cold in his grave and the will not yet read, it seemed he couldn’t wait long enough to inherit.
Beneath the letters was a locked box. Sending up a silent prayer of thanks for Merchiston’s extracurricular tuition, I used one of my hairpins to catch the mechanism and force it open. The contents glittered in the candlelight. A diamond bracelet, a grey pearl choker, a sapphire ring: all items Aurora had reported missing. And beneath them, an emerald earring to match the one found on Clara Wilson’s
body. She had been his accomplice then, or more likely his stooge. And then she had been his victim.
I heard the sound of running water and closed the drawer. With any luck, by the time Alisdair found the box unlocked I would be on my way to the police station.
When he returned, he looked pale and clammy.
‘Miss Gilchrist, forgive me. I am unwell.’
‘Such a difficult time. I’m only sorry I couldn’t be of more solace.’ I rested my hand on his. It was easier to touch him knowing that he was incapacitated, but I had to suppress a shiver, knowing now what those hands were capable of.
He smiled weakly. ‘Perhaps another time. Given my new-found responsibilities, I will be visiting Edinburgh more often. Perhaps I could call on you?’ It should have been a polite question, but I knew what he wanted and his next words made it painfully clear. ‘It must be so hard, cooped up here away from real society. Oh, my mother is loyal to her dressmaker, but since when was Scotland the height of fashion? If you would permit it, I’d be happy to send you any fabrics or patterns.’ He smiled, and for the first time since I met him, it reached his eyes. I realised that this was a real seduction, at least for one of us. ‘Or some ghastly textbooks, if you’d prefer.’
Be his mistress, then. A wife with none of the benefits legitimacy would lend to the proceedings, his whore without the limited protection of Ruby McAllister and her ilk. I was tired of having my compliance bought. I wanted something to trade for a change.
I stood, dusting down my dress and trying to stop myself from shaking. It was over, and I had got what I had come for even if Alisdair hadn’t.
I watched in horror as the vial slipped from the folds of my skirts across the floor, the glass splintering and the arsenic powder spilling out over the floor. Alisdair watched it with dawning realisation.
‘You put something in my drink. You mad bitch! I should have you locked up.’
‘If you call the police, I’ll show them what I found in your rooms. If the blackmail letters don’t convince them, your mother’s stolen jewellery will.’
The Unquiet Heart Page 22