by Bonnie Dee
"I have to. I have to know for certain."
She nodded once, her lips tensing and her chin set. "Very wel ."
And then she turned and began making a way for them through the throng of gawkers. "Excuse me. Pardon me, please. A friend of the deceased is here. Please let us through."
Sooner than he would have wished, they were at the front of the crowd. There the al ey was so narrow the roofs of the buildings on either side met overhead, casting the piles of refuse into shadow even in the middle of the afternoon.
Two uniformed constables guarded the al ey, keeping onlookers at bay. Several detectives in suits wandered the crime scene looking for clues, and a pair of morgue attendants in their white smocks waited with a stretcher to move the remains when the investigators finished noting the details. With al those men in the way, it was hard to tel exactly what lay in the al ey.
Then one of the detectives stepped aside, and next to his brown shoes Dash saw long blond hair. The man moved another step revealing Lizzie's face frozen in death, with her eyes wide and milky and her mouth open. That was al he needed to see. He didn't want to know any more. But the inspector continued to move and then there was nothing left to block Dash's view of Lizzie's fish-white body laid open like a side of beef at the butcher's.
He'd seen death before and plenty of violence living on these streets so he was taken by surprise when a wave of dizziness swept through him and bile rose in his throat.
"Steady," a quiet voice by his side murmured. Victoria Waters's hand clasped his even tighter and she tugged on it. "Come away now."
"This bloke says he knows the bird," someone shouted from behind him.
Immediately one of the constables control ing the crowd turned his attention to Dash. "You do? Then Detective Crowley wil want to interview you."
A lifetime of training in staying out of the way of the law kicked in and Dash shook his head. "No, it ain't her. Not my sister after al . I can see that from here." He submitted to Miss Waters's hand drawing him back into the group of people.
His stomach continued to churn as they threaded their way through the throng, away from the al ey. He started to retch but swal owed it down, forcing one foot in front of the other as the world spun around him.
Victoria Waters led Dash as if he were now the one blindfolded. It occurred to him she could've gone to that constable for help, had him arrested there on the spot if she'd wanted to. If he'd had any doubt about trusting her, it evaporated as she guided him away from the people and down the street.
"You're as white as a sheet. You need a brandy in you," she said, but rather than turn in at one of the available taverns, she hailed a passing hansom.
Dash could've told her cabs didn't stop in this part of town, but the driver was already pul ing over at the wave of the lady's hand. He drew his horse to a stop and leaned down from the box seat.
"Are you al right, miss? A young lady like you shouldn't be here."
The human driver examined Dash with suspicious eyes. An automaton would never concern itself about the company a woman kept or what part of town she chose to walk in.
"I'm quite al right, thank you, but I would like a ride home please, 243 Gaslight Lane." She lifted her skirts and put a foot on the step. Dash took her elbow to help her into the carriage. Just like that, after al the planning and risk-taking, he was releasing her.
But after she took her seat, she held out her hand to him. "Come along then."
"Him?" the driver exclaimed.
Dash didn't give the man a chance to protest further. He vaulted into the cab and sat in the seat across from Miss Waters.
"Drive on, please." Victoria's imperious tone brooked no argument and the driver slapped the reins against the horses'
backs.
Dash stil felt violently nauseated, more so as the cab lurched forward, but he crammed his feelings deep inside him. He couldn't afford them.
Chapter Four
The entire ride across town, the voice of reason in Victoria's head demanded to know what she was doing inviting her kidnapper home with her. She had no answer to offer that logical voice, for she was running on instinct as she so often did. The man who'd shaped her career, Harvey Samuels, had often told her she was the most undisciplined scientist he'd ever met. He had despaired of training her to look at life more objectively rather than operating from gut feeling.
"Yes, I know I've told you a scientist must think outside of normal parameters and expect anomalies, but he--or she--must also use rational common sense. More than you tend to exercise, my dear."
"Wel , sir," Victoria had replied, "I am an inventor first and foremost. Scientists live by data and statistics, but an inventor must be as creative as an artist. She must entertain many ideas and go where instinct leads."
At present, it was leading her to invite a criminal to her home.
The sight of Dash's face as he'd beheld the murdered woman had torn out her heart. Having lost both her parents, Victoria understood the pain and grief shining in his eyes, but she couldn't imagine the added horror of death by such violence. Although she'd only glimpsed the woman's corpse, it was more than she'd wanted to see. She wondered who Lizzie had been to him.
When the cab stopped in front of her house, Dash got out and helped her down. The touch of his strong hand had become familiar to her since he'd dragged her halfway across London both below and above ground. But her flesh stil tingled from the quick clasp before he let her go.
Victoria paid the frowning driver--then walked to the front door with Dash behind her. She took a breath before opening the door, trying to remain calm and act like it wasn't a complete break from society's rules to al ow a strange man inside.
"We can sit in my father's study," she said as he fol owed her into the hal .
Patterson hurried toward them from the back of the house. "Miss Waters, you were not expected to return so soon. And you have brought a guest." His poly-blend face held no expression, but the slight rise in his tone might have indicated surprise, if he were capable of such emotion.
"Yes. Please bring a tea tray to the study, Patterson." She handed him her coat and handbag.
Dash kept his jacket on and watched as the automaton went to do Victoria's bidding. Then he turned his intent stare on her. "You have a mechanical staff."
"Only Patterson. I didn't intend to purchase one, but he was presented to me by the Commission for my work. I couldn't refuse."
"So you fired your butler?"
"He was ready to retire. He'd been with my family for years. I gave him a very generous severance and he went to live with his daughter's family," she answered defensively.
"Let me guess. Your faithful old butler was also named Patterson?"
"Please, Mr. Dash, do come in." Victoria firmly changed the subject, marching ahead of him toward her father's book-fil ed retreat, which had become her own favorite room in the house.
"Sit down."
Her invitation came out as a command since she was stil quite peeved at his attitude about her butler. She went to the sideboard to pour them each a drink, choosing the bottle of scotch rather than brandy--two fingers in each glass. She walked over to Dash, who sat on the edge of the green leather wingback chair, and handed him the glass.
Her guest accepted the drink and tossed it back fast, gasping after he swal owed. Victoria sipped her own drink, welcoming the alcohol burning down her throat to her stomach. Almost immediately warmth suffused her, soothing her frayed nerves.
Her annoyance with him dissipated as she considered what Dash had been through.
She sat in the chair facing his. "I'm so sorry about your friend."
He nodded.
She didn't know what else to add that wouldn't sound trite. "Were you very close?"
At first she didn't think he would answer. Of course they must have been close or he wouldn't have been so affected. Victoria could only assume the woman was a prostitute as the other victims of the Southwark Slasher had been, and sh
e wondered if the woman's relationship with Dash had been of a carnal nature.
"We used to be," he suddenly responded. "She was the closest thing to family I had growing up. She looked out for me."
Victoria thought of Samuels and how he had been both mentor and father to her after her own parents had died. He'd given her support and encouragement when no one else had. She would be devastated without him.
"I'm sorry for your loss," she repeated as she studied Dash's harsh face, the bones that stretched his flesh and gave him the appearance of a man stripped to his bare essentials. He looked like a scholarly aesthete, or perhaps a poet, brooding and dark but with a rough, dangerous edge to him that no scholar ever wore. "It is terrible to lose those we love."
"Lizzie and I had a fal ing out a few years ago. We've only spoken a few times since." He clasped the empty glass in both hands. "I should've kept track of her, looked after her better. Maybe this wouldn't have happened."
She leaned forward and rested a hand on his knee. "You mustn't blame yourself. A mad kil er is on the loose. That is no one's fault."
"I need to know what the police know about this man. The papers don't tel anything real y. Just sensational claptrap." His body was tense as if he was ready to leap from his seat and tear the city apart to find some answers.
"They're probably keeping the details secret while they piece the case together," she suggested. "That would be the wisest thing to do if they hope to catch the kil er."
There was a soft knock at the door and Patterson entered bearing the tea tray. He set the tray on the table and started to pour into the thin china cups.
"I'l do that. You may go now," she instructed him.
"It is my duty, miss. I serve the tea."
"Yes, but I wil do it today. Thank you."
For a moment, the butler remained frozen, hovering over the tea things, torn between fol owing his programmed function and obeying her command. Then his circuitry seemed to switch and he fol owed his primary directive--obeying his owner. "Very wel , Miss Waters. Since you are home, wil you require supper at the usual time? I shal tel Mrs. Rose of your desire."
Victoria grew impatient with his fussing. "I don't know yet. No. I won't require anything. If I get hungry later, I'l find something to eat in the kitchen."
"That would not be correct. If you should wish something, you must let me know and I wil bring it to you on a tray. That is the proper protocol."
"Yes, Patterson. Thank you. I'l be sure to let you know my desires. You may leave now."
The butler gave one last look at the tea tray, clearly longing to pour, but he bowed. Before he left the room, he stared for several moments at Dash. Victoria could read the workings of his programmed responses--an unchaperoned visit by a strange man was not proper protocol. But Patterson only said, "Very good, Miss Waters. Please ring if you need anything more," and left the room.
After he was gone, Dash smiled at her, a crooked, one-sided grin. "Stickler for the rules, isn't he? Your household must run like clockwork with such a mindless drone in charge. How many servants do you keep?"
"My staff consists of only Patterson and the housekeeper, Mrs.
Rose, who also serves as cook. Mrs. Rose hires day maids to do the cleaning and I find that sufficient for the needs of a single spinster."
She busied herself with pouring the tea, asking his preference for sugar and cream, then fil ing a plate with finger foods for him. She offered him the light repast and Dash took it, but didn't eat anything.
"I wouldn't mind a little more of this." He held up his empty glass.
Victoria brought him the bottle of scotch.
He poured a good portion of the amber liquid. "Thank you."
She sat back down, suddenly exhausted from the events of the day and everything she'd learned and seen. She wished she was alone, that she'd never invited this stranger into her house. The effort of careful y choosing her words was too much, which might have been why she blurted out her next question.
"How is it you're so wel educated, Mr. Dash? From what you say, you lived almost on your own in the slums and yet you speak as if you were wel read."
Dash lowered the half-empty glass and squinted at it, as though deciding how much to drink, or maybe how much he wanted to share with her.
"When I was young, I tried to steal from a booksel er named Brownlow and got caught. Instead of turning me in, he took me in hand. I worked for him, learned from him and changed my ways."
The corner of his mouth lifted again. "Mostly."
Victoria saw the pieces fit together like the elements of an equation. Lizzie had been Dash's guardian of sorts until he'd fal en under the influence of a new mentor, which explained their fal ing out. She hadn't liked losing control of him as he'd changed into a new person, someone educated far beyond her ken.
"What about you, Miss Waters?" He cocked his head, studying her in a way that made her want to squirm. "You're also much more educated than you ought to be. How is it a society miss became a research scientist?"
"My father shared his love of learning with me and didn't al ow my gender to hobble my attempts to read everything. He never told me some material wasn't appropriate for my weak female brain.
At last my mother realized I was never going to be a normal young woman. She gave up trying to mold me. I was also blessed to be taught by the great Professor Harvey Samuels. I was his assistant and it was through him I began my work with synthetic materials. He pushed for my inclusion on the automaton inventive team."
"It must have been hard for you, flying against convention." Dash set down his whiskey glass and picked up one of the little sandwiches from the plate. "I can understand that. Me ole mates didn't much loik it when I quit 'em an' went stodgy." His purposely exaggerated accent made Victoria smile.
"It can be difficult to pursue what you believe in when society seems set against change," she agreed. "Like the automaton project. At first our team was looked upon as crackpots in the scientific community. It was quite heady when our work was successful and a company was actual y interested in producing the automatons."
Ah, the frown was back in ful force. Dash regarded his second sandwich as if it was an enemy he'd like to rip apart.
She very much wanted him to believe she'd never intended harm by developing the machines. "My only thought at the time was providing relief for workers in dangerous occupations. Mining for example. By the time other applications for the automatons were suggested, none of us were in control. Patent or no, our invention was co-opted by the government, our efforts commended, and then we were politely dismissed."
"Do you have any sway with the Commission now? Truthful y, Miss Waters, do you believe they'l listen to you if you do present our demands?"
She smoothed her skirt beneath her palms. "I don't know. This phenomenon has become so huge so quickly. Although there are factions besides yours that speak against the automatons--for example, the religious, who see mechanical people as a defilement of God's image in man--overal they've been embraced by much of society."
That cynical smile flashed over his mouth once more. "So you're saying even if we went back to the original plan and I kidnapped you, it wouldn't make a difference."
Victoria frowned. "I'd like to think someone would care about my plight, but honestly, they might consider me expendable, Mr.
Dash."
"Just Dash. And anyone would be insane to consider a woman like you expendable, Miss Waters." Another smal smile. Another flip of her stomach.
"Victoria." Her voice was a little breathy as she got lost in those dark eyes. "I believe we've been through enough now that you might cal me by my given name."
"Victoria," he agreed, and the sound of her name spoken in his low voice sent a warm flush through her.
"I should like to do what I can to help you," she said, "not only with the Commission, but also by finding out what I can from the police concerning your friend's death."
"You would do that for me?"
>
"I've lost people I loved, too. I won't pretend to imagine I know what you're going through, but I believe I can understand at least a little."
He'd abandoned the plate and held the whiskey glass again. Now he finished it off in a gulp. "Won't it seem unusual for a young lady to want to know the facts of a murder?"
She smiled. "Unusual and I are old friends. I'l think of a reason and find out everything I can for you."
He stared at the empty glass. "Thank you."
"Sometimes it helps to talk about the person you love. Tel me something about her--about Lizzie."
For several moments there was no sound in the room except the ticking pendulum of the mantel clock, the faint cal s of birds outside the window and traffic on the street. Dash closed his eyes and rubbed the furrow between them, and then at last he spoke.
"She loved music, and she loved to sing." His face contorted into an expression caught between a smile and grimace. "She made up tunes about whatever caught her fancy. When we were young, she'd make me laugh by singing bawdy songs about the people we knew. Kept me from thinking about being hungry or cold, I'd laugh so hard. Of course, when I grew older, I was embarrassed by her and used to tel her to shut her trap." His jaw tightened. "I'd do anything to hear her sing once more."
Victoria's eyes stung in sympathy. "How old was she?"
"I never much kept track of my own age, let alone Lizzie's. But I'd wager she was nearly thirty. A few years older than me anyway."
Her heart twisted. She herself was twenty-eight. Thirty didn't seem as old as it once had to her. She pitied the young woman who'd lived such a hard life while Victoria had had a wonderful home with loving parents to shelter her from the world. She'd never known a day of hunger, cold or fear in her life.
"I am so sorry," she murmured.
He shrugged. "Wel , that's the way of the world, innit? Bad things happen, and then more bad things happen. Anyway, I should be going." He rose.
Victoria did, too, and suddenly they were standing far too close together. He looked down at her and she tipped her head back to meet his gaze. Like a fly trapped in syrup, she couldn't pul herself free. She felt the heat of his body, smel ed the whiskey on his breath and was mesmerized by his eyes.