Margaret’s day started as the ones before. She and Julia had allowed the auction to consume their every thought and deed. As word of their endeavour reached the staff, Lady Gemma Brant, and her brother Daniel, the mountain of goods for the auction grew and the need for organization grew with it.
“If Father came home to see this…” Margaret let her words trail off as she looked over the furniture, boxes, and miscellaneous trinkets from the second-floor landing. From overhead she could see how expansive their project had become, congesting the foyer and impeding on access to the stairs.
“We need to hand out the invitations soon, Julia,” Margaret said as she made her way back to her room. Crossing the threshold, she found her maid at the tiny writing desk near the window, leaning over the tabletop with a fountain pen in her hand.
“Forgive me, Miss,” Julia said, turning slightly in the chair at the desk. “I had meant to finish the invitations last night but Miss Violetta asked for my assistance.”
“Doing what, may I ask?”
Julia smiled. “Mending mostly. I was so tired when I finished I could not think of another thing.”
Margaret scowled. It was more than a little unnerving to hear her Mother’s lady’s maid was giving orders to the others, as if Violetta herself hadn’t enough desire to do them herself.
“I apologize,” Julia said.
“No, I am not cross,” Margaret answered suddenly, realizing she must have misinterpreted the look on her face, “not with you, at least.”
Julia nodded but a look of concern remained on her face. Margaret smiled reassuringly and patted Julia on the shoulder as she walked past to the window seat.
“Who shall we address the invitations to?” Julia asked, as if hoping to change the subject.
Margaret reached for her address book, a tan, leatherbound book that remained more empty and out of date than she’d like to admit. She exhaled as she flipped through the pages. “I have the addresses for a few of mother’s friends, the Pennyfeathers, Talbots, and Careys, but aside from that I haven’t the faintest clue,” she said. “Mother used to handle the society side of things. I just did what I was told.” Margaret released a slight laugh at her words. To think she was firmly in her twenties and not well acquainted with anyone featured on the society pages. She had more friends back at The Briar than she did in the city and this contributed greatly to her incessant boredom.
“Perhaps Lady Brant would help,” Julia suggested.
“Certainly not,” Margaret answered quickly. “I cannot deny a need of her one day and crawl back the next.”
Having witnessed Lady Brant’s offer of guardianship and Margaret’s vehement refusal, Julia nodded.
“I would ask Evelyn but I don’t care to bother her,” Margaret said. “Daniel said she is still not well.”
“We can head for a walk in the park,” Julia suggested. “Seeing someone might jog your memory and in the very least we shall get some exercise from it.”
Margaret smiled. “Maybe we could place invitations in the hands of random people in the hopes they will spread the word.”
The two of them laughed uproariously at the suggestion, knowing very well that was not the manner in which a society hostess supplies invites. A walk seemed a good idea to Margaret, even if their task remained to plague them another day.
“This is a grand endeavour, Miss Margaret,” Julia said with a smile as she gathered the envelopes. “The orphanage will be grateful for your efforts.”
Margaret watched as her maid generated a tiny pile of invitations, positioning them on the flat corner of the writing desk.
It broke Margaret’s heart to think of Julia growing up in a place like the orphanage. As good as Mrs. Holliwell was at providing a stable home for the children it was the stigma of the address that plagued their little hearts the most. The humiliation of being an orphan would haunt Julia for all her days, following her wherever she could find a position of employment. It did not matter how dependable or discreet she was, society would never be able to see past her unfortunate circumstances.
“I’m so sorry you had to live there,” Margaret said, willing away tears that stung at her eyes.
The maid’s gaze shot up quickly, her eyes wide and expression startled.
“Peter told me,” Margaret said by way of explanation. “Perhaps he shouldn’t have.”
Julia regarded Margaret in stunned silence.
“I’m sorry,” Margaret said quickly, seeing how uncomfortable her maid had become at the mention of the orphanage. “I should not have said anything.”
“I understand, Miss,” Julia answered, though somewhat awkwardly.
“I won’t speak of it ever again,” Margaret availed. “I can’t have you uncomfortable on that account.”
Julia gave a slight smile but said nothing, which made Margaret deeply regret her slip of words. She cursed Peter for being so nosey and, worse, sharing his findings with her.
Margaret slipped her address book on the window seat beside her before standing suddenly. “Let us go for that walk then, shall we?” she asked cheerily, forcibly changing the subject.
Julia nodded and hurriedly snatched the envelopes.
Margaret and Julia walked down Bond Street, a bundle of invitations clutched in Julia’s gloved hands. They had asked Jacob, the family’s groom, to convey them to Hyde Park, knowing from there they could walk the streets of Mayfair. There he would wait until they were finished with their promenade. It was too early to be making calls but Margaret could not wait. She’d have to pounce on anyone remotely recognizable, make dreaded small talk, and somehow slip the auction into conversation. It was not a task she was looking forward to but the success of her event depended upon it.
Margaret had hoped she would happen upon a few of her friends on the pavement, which would save her visits to individual houses and perhaps from a few awkward exchanges of dialogue. She chose Bond Street, where she knew many of London’s socialites would be perusing the shops and spending their generous allowances. The streets, though, were surprisingly empty and with each determined step Margaret’s conviction suffered.
“Perhaps it’s too early in the day, Julia,” Margaret said with a forced smile. “Perhaps too many of them are still abed.”
Walking slightly behind her ladyship, Julia looked as if she was suppressing a laugh.
“Well, it’s true,” Margaret said, seeing the amusement on her maid’s face as she glanced back. “You may be out of bed hours before the sun but the women in my circles haven’t a care to leave the covers until hours afterward.” Stopping and turning, Margaret let out a disparaged sigh. “Is it any wonder I cannot stand any of them?”
“Margaret!”
Margaret turned to the sound of her name but at first she could not see the source. Then across the street she saw Miss Bethany Brundell, an obnoxious soul, waving her hand. She scanned the street for an opening between carriages before crossing.
“Bethany! What a pleasure!” Margaret played along as Bethany kissed the air on both sides of her face. The Brundell family had spent much time in France and, despite being back for many years, they still observed many of the French customs, a situation that often left Margaret befuddled and unsure, to say nothing of the great deal of annoyance the greetings were to her.
“Mama was just speaking of you the other day. We are so sorry to hear of your tragedies.” Bethany clicked her tongue in sympathy, which only vexed Margaret further, though she was able to hide it from view. “I had no idea your family had been so troubled.” Bethany placed a gloved hand on her chest to feign disbelief. “I can’t imagine a mother killing herself and leaving a daughter unwed.”
“Who told you such a thing?” Margaret charged.
“Oh, Margaret dear, please don’t think I have any interest in such goings-on. I love you as a sister and I shall never believe a word of it.” Bethany rounded, heading in the same direction as Margaret and Julia had been, and slipped a hand under Margaret’s a
rm, leading her down the street. Margaret glanced over her shoulder to ensure Julia followed.
“How is Peter?” Bethany asked. “Not intended yet, is he? Please be kind, Margaret. I haven’t the stomach to hear he has been matched as Daniel has.”
“No,” Margaret answered. “He assures me he has no interest at present.”
“Oh excellent,” Bethany said with a wide smile. “We’ve been touring the continent for the last few months, Grand-mama and I, and we only just returned last week. I must admit my heart jumped into my throat when I had heard Daniel had been wed.”
“Oh yes,” Margaret said, remembering the somber yet sweet ceremony she had attended for Daniel and his new wife Evelyn just a few weeks prior. It had been a private affair, with only a handful of guests. Neither the Marshall nor Weatherall families wanted a fuss after what led up to the original wedding date. “They are very happy.”
“Oh, lovely,” Bethany said, her voice a little too high for Margaret’s liking.
Margaret licked her lips, regretting the words that threatened to leave her lips. “I’m auctioning some of Mother’s things for her charity,” she blurted, against her better judgement. “Perhaps you and your mother would like to come?”
“An auction!”
“It’s for the orphaned children—”
“Oh, the darlings,” Bethany said.
Margaret stopped and turned to Julia, who had already pulled out an enveloped invitation from the pile. “Thank you, Julia.” She turned and handed the envelope to Bethany, who held it to her breast as if it were a cherished possession.
“I will not dream of missing it,” she said with a broad smile. She glanced over Margaret’s shoulder to Julia. “Are those for others?” she asked with a pointed finger.
“…Yes,” Margaret answered hesitantly.
“I am headed to tea this afternoon with Mama and the Pennyfeathers. Shall I give them an invitation?” Bethany reached for another invite without waiting for a reply.
“Well, of course,” Margaret said with a slight laugh. “I was not sure who would be in town and hadn’t really planned a guest list. Truth is, I am not sure many will attend.”
“Fear not,” Bethany said, snagging nearly three-quarters of the pile of invitations. “I shall hand them out to the most generous socialites. Do not worry on that account.” Smirking mischievously, Bethany gave Margaret a wink. She stuffed the envelopes in her reticule and patted Margaret on the hand.
“Bethany!”
Both women turned to the street at the sound of someone calling. A man stood on the step of an open carriage door, waving to Bethany. The carriage had been pulled over to the side and the driver commanded the team to wait, trotting their displeasure into the cobblestones.
“You remember my brother Joseph, do you not?”
The man tipped his hat at Margaret but his position amongst the traffic did not permit him to alight from the carriage.
“My morning shop is spoiled,” Bethany grumbled. She gave Margaret a sympathetic smile. “Give my regards to Peter. Take care, my dear.” Gingerly, Bethany slipped between two parked carriages and used her brother’s offered hand to step into her family’s carriage. She waved as they rolled away and then gave her brother a playful smack when he winked at Margaret.
With Bethany gone Margaret and Julie stood stymied. Margaret looked from the empty space where the over-animated Bethany had stood and then back at Julia.
“I do believe you had planned that, Miss Margaret,” Julia teased.
“I doubt anyone could have planned better,” Margaret answered with a laugh.
Chapter 13
The whole earth through.
Using the back of his hand, Ainsley wiped perspiration from his forehead as he leaned over the torso of a man who had been found dead in a lodging house a few blocks from the hospital. Although Ainsley suspected an undiagnosed disease, a cause that would have fascinated him immensely at any other time, he found it hard to concentrate. His mind wandered unrelentingly to the children in the adjoining room who begged him to find their killer.
The deaths of pauper children were hardly a priority for the hospital and, as far as Dr. Crawford was concerned, Ainsley had done his duty by performing the autopsy. The supervising surgeon had stopped asking when Ainsley could be expected to release the bodies. So many times Ainsley had denied the request, citing further tests, but in truth Ainsley had no desire to let any of the children go. To where? Ainsley would ask himself. Some hole in the ground left unmarked and unvisited? The thought had sent so many chills up Ainsley’s spine he began willing himself to think of it no more. The least he could do would be find the murderer and prevent the fiend from striking again. Perhaps then the cold graves of the children would haunt him a little less.
Ainsley hadn’t realized he was frozen mid-movement over the body, moving neither scalpel nor hand, until he heard someone clear their throat.
“Do you plan on completing the dissection sometime in the near future, Dr. Ainsley?”
Ainsley looked up and saw Dr. Crawford on the opposite side of his examination table, a clipboard held tightly to his chest. Behind him, Ainsley saw Sidney, his one eye still somewhat puffy from the boxing match the other night. He did not approach Ainsley’s table as Dr. Crawford had. Jaw clenched, Sidney gave a hardened stare at Ainsley.
Failing to suppress a self-pleased smile, Ainsley stood tall and jerked his chin toward Sidney’s face. “You’ve looked better,” he said without any concern for how cruel he may sound.
Sidney snorted and turned away.
Dr. Crawford scoffed, shaking his head. He gave a quick glance to his nephew before turning back to Ainsley. “Runaway carriage, apparently,” he said. “Though I have my doubts,” he added through the side of his mouth.
Ainsley felt a sudden chill and looked beyond his visitors to the door, expecting Frisker or another porter to appear. At first he saw nothing and when he looked back to Dr. Crawford he found the head surgeon giving him a dubious look. “My apologies, sir,” Ainsley said. He laid down his scalpel and wiped his hands on a nearby towel. As he turned to toss the towel aside a movement in the shadows caught his eye.
It was brief, there as a solid mass, watching the trio intently. When Ainsley looked back the form was gone.
“What is it, Ainsley?” Sidney asked, a deep frown setting upon his face.
Not wishing Sidney to see him unsettled, Ainsley shook it off. “Nothing.” As soon as he said it however, he felt a light touch on his hand at his side. The touch, faint but cold, began at his smallest finger, expanding to the rest of his hand before Ainsley snatched it away quickly. He turned and stepped away, shocked to find nothing there. He looked to his hand, feeling the chill in his flesh with the other.
Sidney laughed. “The dead unnerve him,” he said, crossing his hands over his chest.
Ainsley sneered, angered at himself for behaving so foolishly. And in front of those two, no less.
Crawford cleared his throat and turned to Sidney unapologetically. “Wait outside, boy,” he said in an authoritative voice.
Sidney looked up suddenly from a body he was studying, his eyes wide as if he were caught doing something he shouldn’t have been. “Sir?”
“Go wait outside.” Dr. Crawford punctuated each syllable separately.
Begrudgingly, Sidney turned and left. Only once the door latched did Crawford begin to speak. “He is an embarrassment to me,” he explained, speaking to Ainsley as if they were old chums. “I cannot tell if that boy has any grey matter in that big head of his.”
Ainsley pressed his lips together tightly to suppress a laugh.
“He’s scored so low on his last two examinations the school is threatening to expel him. I just don’t know what to do,” he continued with a shake of his head. “I promised my sister I’d see he got along in London. I haven’t the heart to write and tell her he’s a lost cause.” The pained look on Crawford’s face was enough to garner some sympathy from Ainsley, t
hough not much. He cared little for the overly confident scoundrel. The fact that Crawford was not aware of the origins of Sidney’s injuries meant that the boy knew he should never have challenged Ainsley in the first place and it was that choice that saved him. Somewhat.
“I haven’t the patience to tutor him,” Crawford confessed. “You’re my best man—”
Ainsley flinched at this. Never had he heard a word of praise from the head surgeon. Each conversation began and ended with a glare, words of admonishment, or disappointment. Only once had Ainsley heard hints of Crawford’s unwilling praise. This was the first time the man had ever said anything to Ainsley directly. It had been a conversation Ainsley was only partly interested in, and Crawford’s comments brought Ainsley quickly to full attention.
“I’d like you to allow him to shadow you,” Crawford said quickly, as if to bury his compliment amongst his true motive. “Perhaps you can penetrate that thick skull of his.” Crawford scoffed a measure of disgust evident on his face.
Ainsley shook his head. “Absolutely not,” he said, raising his hands as if to create distance. “I have too much—” Ainsley glanced to the room to the side where the bodies of Jonathon and the others remained. He could just see the table where Jonathon’s body lay. He knew if he had a shadow he’d not have as much time to work with Simms on the case as he would like.
“It would just be a few days or so. Until he passes his final exam,” Crawford explained. “I’d be indebted to you.”
Ainsley stopped his protest, his eyes on the spot where Benjamin had stood, weeping as he said good-bye to his friend.
“Are you willing to do something for me?” Ainsley asked, suddenly inclined to entertain the idea.
Crawford hesitated. “As your superior I could include it as part of your duties,” he threatened.
Ainsley snorted. “That would not be allowed. I’d hate to have to inform the Board of Governors.” Ainsley gave a half-smile, knowing Crawford would not be able to refuse his request, not if he wanted him to help his nephew.
The Dead Among Us Page 11