Painted Trust_Edith and the Forensic Surgeon

by Elsa Holland

  “I undertook today’s outing out of respect for yourselves and the office you hold as the founders, and only source, of Painted Sisters.

  “You have presented to me why you think Miss James is worth more but, given her willful and intransitive position, from my perspective, she is losing value.”

  The twins’ body language shifted as they caught each other’s gaze, then directed their attention back to him. They’d been in the business long enough to see his play. They stilled and waited for his request.

  “The purchase is contingent on Miss James being delivered by the end of the week, or the whole deal is off.”

  There was another one of those silent yet overly-filled moments. Moments where strategies were checked and responses realigned. Should they hold their ground he would have to come back at a later date to restart negotiations because, in his mind, Miss James was now his. Too much had passed between them, too much of interest.

  And then there were the last few paragraphs on the fifth page of her file.

  The twins turned their attentions to him, their pale age-faded eyes remarkably hard to read.

  “Perfectly so,” said Aiden, breaking the silence as he sank back into the plush velvet of the sofa.

  “As it should be,” said Sissy, following his move.

  They grinned, appearing surprisingly relaxed. Despite his ability to influence, he knew Miss James was no easy task to turn. The twins’ confidence was off-putting; he felt as if he had somehow given more than he understood. Yet if they were able to bring Miss James around, he would be satisfied.

  Blackburn tapped his fingers on the armrest. There was every chance the Hurleys, with their rather unusual communication style, had not been plain enough with Elspeth. Perhaps she had not fully understood her position—her lack of real choices—nor the need to present a more pleasant attitude.

  “Given the time frame, I insist you speak with her now. I will follow up your discussion personally before I leave and ensure there is no misunderstanding on her part.”

  “Ah, perhaps you can investigate our library—incognito as it were—while we chat,” said Aiden.

  “Then you can strike fast after we leave,” said Sissy.

  They clapped in unison.

  Blackburn pulled an envelope out of his jacket pocket.

  “On another issue, my sources have identified an unusual number of bodies turning up with pieces of skin missing. A fledgling, an amateur, possibly unrelated, but perhaps something you will want your own people on.”

  He didn’t have to say the word.

  Skinner.

  The Hurleys looked at each other.

  “Outlawed,” said Aiden.

  “Could be nothing,” said Sissy.

  “Banned,” said Aiden.

  “There has been discontent,” said Sissy.

  “Yes, Painted Sisters being sent home . . .” said Aiden.

  They both looked at him.

  He leaned forward and placed the cream, unmarked envelope on the coffee table between them all.

  For a moment it was silent, as they waited to see if he had anything further to add. He did, but what he knew was worth money, they knew that.

  “We’ll call Elspeth,” said Sissy.

  “Perhaps I will seek out some reading material.” Blackburn stood. There was a surprising tightness in his shoulders and at the back of his neck as he recalled his exchange with Miss James earlier in the day. The swish of her skirts as she, in her own mind, swished him out of her life. In a few moments, she would find out he was not so easily shaken loose.

  “Excellent,” said Aiden.

  “Delicious.” Sissy rang a small silver bell then placed it back on its small tray on the side table next to her.

  They gave the impression that they had totally disregarded the information still sitting in the closed envelope, but he’d noticed their hand movements, the finger signals between them as they spoke. He didn’t know their code but had plenty of experience at multiple messaging to see a system when played in front of him. They were interested in his information and they had some intelligence of their own.

  He wanted Miss James sooner rather than later, and the news he received late this afternoon from his man, Inspector Morrison, about the skinnings and his suspicions meant that she would be better off at his home and under his protection as soon as could be arranged. A rational man, he told himself, would ensure her safety. It had nothing to do with the way her lips had grazed his chin as he’d turned away from her kiss. Nothing to do with the tight clamp of her hands on the lapels of his jacket as he’d kissed her, as he’d shown her just how much she wanted what she thought she despised.

  Chapter 7

  The inevitable call came a few hours after she finished fencing practice and, given that she couldn’t actually put a blade through Blackburn’s heart, she’d worked through as much of her frustration as she could.

  Back in her rooms she’d bathed and changed back into her comfortable, if drab, gray, the overly debutant dress of the afternoon relegated into the shared wardrobe of the canvases. She now sat in the small private parlor off her bedroom on the third floor. There was no reason to even try to make the effort to read or do anything else except brood. Brooding was all she had left.

  How had she gotten into this mess?

  Going up against Blackburn or the Hurleys was one thing but having a battle within herself was far more arduous. Different parts of her pushed for opposing and contradictory things.

  There was her mind. And, if she was honest, her pride. She didn’t like him, he was arrogant. And she was sure he enjoyed manipulating her and making her feel foolish, off-balance and uncertain. As a gentleman, he was unpalatable, even rude. There was no confusion there.

  It was her body that was causing the problem.

  It was her body which had lured her into clutching his photograph while she did what she did.

  And it was her body which made her do stupid things on that landing this morning.

  Even now, her body hummed at even the smallest thought of him. Images of him flashed in her mind’s eye at regular intervals: his thighs as he’d fenced, the force of his thrust as she parried his foil with her own, the press of his body along the length of hers. All these sensations made her skin oversensitive, ached deep in her core, making her irritable and needy.

  And then the kiss.

  That kiss on the dim landing, the sound of their breathing, rough and irregular, the soft press of his cheek against hers, his tongue thrust into her mouth and teasing hers. She could still feel him pressed against her lips, sliding over her tongue, making her nipples burn.

  And in amongst all of these sensations was one that repeated with painful regularity – the way she’d stretched on her toes, had lifted her lips to kiss him and how he’d moved his lips away. Her lips had scraped on the stubble of his chin. A rough scratchiness on her top lip that burned her in another way; burned her with humiliation that still singed as her mind steered away from it.

  Blackburn had humiliated her at every meeting. At the viewing, while fencing, and again on their outing. Her pride and her mind said run, all that heady sensuality between them be damned.

  There was a knock and her parlor door opened.

  “Miss James?” Evans stood stoically, no need for him to say she had been summoned. There was that look on his face again. It wasn’t pity but there was some empathy in his visage, some way empathetic to her plight.

  “I’ll be right down.”

  He nodded and closed the door behind him.

  Elspeth took her time walking down the stairs. Nerves skittered under her skin as she descended and her hand slid slowly down the polished wooden handrail. Much was at stake, so much to lose if she said ‘no’.

  The Hurleys never heard ‘no’.

  Over all the years she had been living in the house, she had never seen anyone who had turned around a Hurley directive—it was their will or the street. And most of the people that ended up here
had nowhere else to go.

  She at least had enough to live on while she worked out how to get back to India. Because that was where she’d go. There was little for her here if she was cut off from the girls. Back in India there was meaningful work she could do; in the colonies there were choices an independent and modern woman had which she didn’t have in England.

  Elspeth made her way down the gallery hallway. Painting after painting of the family and highly successful Painted Sisters hung in ornate golden frames. At the far end was the library, the place where the Hurleys conducted all of their negotiations.

  The walk down the hallway provided an education and introduction to the Hurley’s wealth and span of influence, a walk designed to diminish the confidence of their guest and heighten their own. Elspeth took a few calming breaths then opened the door.

  The Hurlies’ velvet chesterfields were positioned around a large low Chinese table. In front of this seating area was a set of French doors brought back by one of their acquaintances and installed to open up onto the outdoor patio full of potted exotics.

  Once again, Elspeth sat between Hurley’s red velvet sofas, waiting to be questioned. She arranged the folds of her dress as if unconcerned at their summons, though beneath her dress her nerves zinged through her skin.

  “So, Elspeth, tell us the delights of your outing this morning. It must have gone very well indeed.” The twins looked at each other and nodded in unison.

  Elspeth laced her hands in her lap and clasped her fingers together. The twins were going to play ignorant. They would have heard her loud entrance and her practice with the foil; her lack of ‘delight’ would be abundantly clear to them both. But she knew how to play the game.

  “It was enlightening. I had the opportunity to get a good measure of Mr. Blackburn.” Her voice sounded reasonable, even if just saying his name made her body go into a riot of conflicting physical responses.

  “No doubt. You were able to ascertain his fine qualities,” said Aiden.

  She coughed. “I am afraid that I have not changed my mind. I was employed as a governess. I am not one of the Canvases and I don’t want to become one.”

  Aiden looked over to his twin sister. “The gardenias are just delightful. Reminds me of the Maharaja and his parrot.”

  “Oh yes.” Sissy clapped in delight. “When Lord Byron came to call and the cat went missing.”

  The gardenias did in fact smell wonderful, their scent carried on the breeze that slipped through the French door behind Elspeth. But she had seen this ploy between them in the past. They chatted to themselves with the aim of making the listener feel out of their element, leading the listener to believe that their experience of the world was so limited that they should defer to the twins better, worldlier judgments. The twins were masters at making the world bend and flow as they wanted. But not with her.

  “I will not do this.” It was remarkable how firm her voice sounded.

  “We have already hired a new governess, my dear. She will start from tomorrow.”

  A shaft of pain went through her heart and her breathing wavered but her principles were set; there was no way that she could see herself moving forward in the manner that they were asking.

  “Please, Miss Hurley, Mr. Hurley—I have been with you for ten years. I have worked through so many matters to your satisfaction. I have a wonderful rapport with the girls. I don’t want to leave.”

  She was ignored, the twins eyes only on each other.

  “It sounds like she doesn’t want to change, doesn’t it dear?” Aiden said to Sissy.

  “Yes, that is exactly the issue. Grand passions can make little ones have sluggish feet,” Sissy replied.

  Grand passions.

  Elspeth’s body zinged in a flurry of agreement. Determinedly, she swatted her excited nerves down, reminding her wayward body that Blackburn was unpalatable, perverted and arrogant.

  “I am not sure that you have understood me. There is no ‘Grand passion’ I am avoiding. I simply do not wish to have my body tattooed from head to toe and be at Mr. Blackburn’s beck and call. Nor do I want to prance around naked for him and the likes of whom he chooses to display me to. I will not move on this matter under any circumstance. I would like to retain my job. If we are not able to resolve this issue I must resign.”

  “Resign?” they asked in unison, finally looking at her again.

  “You have to have a position to resign from. Now remind me again of your circumstances?” Aiden’s voice held no compassion, just hard fact.

  The twins knew she sent most of her income back to the orphanage in India. That she didn’t have many options here in England. They must also assume she would not return there after the incident. They were wrong.

  “My circumstances will not contribute to a change in my decision.” Her eyes started to sting.

  Blast them and their strange machinations. Elspeth got up and paced away from them.

  “I just don’t understand why you are so intent on this course of action. Surely you will get the same amount of money for another girl, more so if the man were to consider how untrained and unwilling I am.”

  “You should trust those who have lived longer and harder than you, Elspeth,” Aiden said.

  “Longer perhaps . . .” Elspeth muttered, but they heard.

  Sissy clattered her tea cup on the table.

  “Now you are being offensive, Elspeth,” Aiden said.

  “Am I?” Elspeth stalked back to them, “Am I really? Why can’t I decide my own course? I have no parents, no need to be rallied into a direction I do not desire.”

  “You are in a rut,” Sissy waved her hand in the air.

  “Stuck in a layer of predictable banality. The world is bigger and brighter than you know and it is time you stepped into it.” Aiden said, with paternal leverage.

  This was the first time they had said this to her. But the second time today she had her rather exotic life relegated to a dysfunctional banality. And it stung. Tears threatened; she had not expected such a personal attack.

  She stood up and walked to the bi-fold doors, then out to the patio. The smell of the garden was soothing. She liked this time of day, liked to walk through the gardens, watching the light as it shifted through the trees. It was the type of garden that stimulated dreams, a gateway between worlds, a place where myths and gods could be around the corner.

  Behind her, the Hurley’s talked between themselves. Spinster and bachelor, they had spent their lives together, they understood each other implicitly. Spoke in a code of memories that few understood.

  The idea of submitting to Blackburn left a physical pain in her chest. There would have to be some monumental reason to make her agree which losing her job did not constitute. It hurt to be cast aside after all this time, to be pressured and manipulated by the Hurleys after all they had been through together; first in India and then here in England. But those events seemed to matter little now. They would have her believe they did this for her betterment but they couldn’t honestly think being tied to such a distasteful man was a good thing for her. They knew the qualities she admired and Mr. Blackburn did not display them. Well, there were other options and she was prepared to take them.

  Elspeth walked back inside.

  “How long would you like me to stay and train the new governess?”

  “Well, that all depends, dear, but we have a request. Mr. Blackburn has asked for you to have supper with him tonight. Naturally, we understood that the outing today had gone well and accepted on your behalf.”

  “No!” Her voice contained genuine horror and anger. They knew she had arrived home upset. “I am sure he understands my feelings quite clearly. There is no need to have supper, nor any other further contact.”

  “We are not so sure he shares your sentiments. He sent along something for you.”

  Sissy rang the small bell on the side table next to her. The door opened and in came Evans with a large black box. There had been a couple of occasions when a
Collector sent an item in a box like that for one of the Canvases. It was from a very exclusive dressmaker.

  Her face stiffened. She was annoyed at the gesture, that he knew would irritate her, and annoyed at the flurry of excitement she felt in spite of this.

  “Tsk. Elspeth,” Aiden said looking at her sharply. “Manners cost little.”

  Evans placed the overly large package down on the table.

  “Open it dear.” Sissy clapped in delight.

  Elspeth folded her hand across her chest. “I don’t want it.” And she didn’t. Well, maybe she did but not from him and certainly not under these conditions. Unsurprisingly, the twins ignored her.

  “She is in for quite a ride,” Aiden said.

  “It will be a delight to watch, even from afar,” Sissy replied.

  “Stop it, both of you.” But her hand was now around the large ribbon—there could be no harm in seeing what a man thought she would like. She had no intention of accepting it.

  The box was glossy black with a wide red and white ribbon holding the box closed. The reference to candy did not go unnoticed. Elspeth tugged the ribbon off and opened the box.

  Inside was black and gold tissue paper which, as she lifted it back, made a soft crinkling sound full of delicate promise. Underneath was a dress with a deep neckline in the most luscious blue Paris satin, the blue so dark it was almost black.

  Her hands shook as she lifted the dress out of the box.

  Mr. Blackburn might be an arrogant, rude pervert but he had exceptional taste in clothes.

  It was the kind of dress that she had dreamed of having. She clamped her mouth shut. She was almost tempted to say yes to supper just so she could wear the gown, but the idea of yet another protracted encounter with that expressionless face was abhorrent. The whole idea was absolutely ridiculous.

  Aiden and Sissy stood up and headed to the door, whispering as they walked, heads bent together.

  Even after all these years it was not hard to see why the rumors of brother and sister sharing carnal delight had spread in the colonies. However, it had been blown away when she, a young governess, was seen on Aiden’s arm, and later lured from her employers and ushered back to England with them. The twins turned.