Fearless (Scarlet Suffragette, Book 1): A Victorian Historical Romantic Suspense Series

by Nicola Claire

  He'd seen them, of that I was sure. He'd seen and followed them, and somehow, God alone knew how, he'd picked off Helen, leaving Wilhelmina alive for now. But for how much longer?

  A chill invaded my bones, sinking deep into marrow. I closed my eyes and only opened them again when Hardwick knocked on the door. She bustled in, silence her companion. Either aware of the tension that hung on the air, or astute enough to note now was not the time to pass comment. She placed the tray, with china pot and cups that had once belonged to my mother, and the whiskey decanter and tumblers that had been my father's purview, on a side table, and then lifted heavy eyes to my own.

  I nodded my thanks, and within seconds Hardwick had left us alone, the hiss and spit of burning wood on the andiron the only sound to fill the room.

  Until Wilhelmina said, "Whiskey. This is bad, indeed, if you have broken into Uncle Thomas' store."

  "Mina," I said on a breath of pained air. Too much death, now and then. Almost too much to bear.

  "Shall I pour?" she asked, slipping out of the bed and walking towards where Hardwick had left the tray. I let her, she needed the movement.

  For myself, I couldn't seem to shift under the weight that weighed me down.

  A shaking hand offered a finger of the amber liquid, the strong scent of honey and oak on the air. We both took small sips, well familiar with the strength in which the liquor could strike. Then held our glasses in still hands, staring into the fire.

  Eventually I placed my glass on the desk behind me and stood, taking the steps necessary to reach my cousin's side. There was no easy way to say this. No simple structure of words to make this all right. I had to pray that Mina was stronger than I had realised, and evidence tonight would indicate such.

  I took her free hand, removing the glass of whiskey from her other and placing it on the mantle. Then I faced her, gripping both palms firmly in mine and did what had to be done.

  "He struck again tonight," I said, voice low as if I feared the words alone would summon the killer.

  Too late for that.

  "I'm so sorry," I whispered, as she began to shake in earnest. My throat closing over, my heart breaking apart under the strain. Tears welled in my eyes, mirroring my cousin.

  "Helen," she said on a suppressed sob. "It was Helen," she repeated, her words vying for strength, but failing miserably to find any.

  "Yes, dearest," I whispered back. "Darling Helen is gone. I'm sorry."

  She was in my arms, a wail that wrenched at my body, her fingers clinging to my cloak like I had done to the inspector's jacket, in the next heartbeat. The warmth of the fire unable to ward off the chill that suffused everything. Her tears wet my collar. The racking of her frame went right through to my core. I felt every pain-filled sound as though it was belonged to me.

  In the centre of a maelstrom I had no hope of escaping.

  We ended up on the rug before the hearth, holding each other as we cried. The heat from the fire went from a distant tickle to an inferno. One side of us warmed to scorching, the other frozen in a kind of hell.

  And all the while I kept thinking that Helen lay on an impersonal slab, in the surgery that should have been mine.

  And I kept telling myself that he would not get Wilhelmina too. Because the injustice of seeing her somewhere other than my father's house was too great to stomach right now.

  And then I cursed Ethel Poynton and her need to send her flock into the fray. And the inspector for not making our leader understand the gravity of her choices.

  And finally I damned the killer, who preyed on the innocent, and left my cousin so fragile, so frail, so not the woman I loved and admired. In so many ways.

  After hours of holding Mina and staring at the embers in the dying hearth, I finally managed to get her into bed with Hardwick's assistance. A skeleton of my cousin, blank eyes staring at the ceiling, soft breaths belying the frantic beat of her heart.

  "Shall I fetch the Laudanum, miss?" Mrs Hardwick enquired, as we both stood looking down at our catatonic charge.

  I shook my head. "Laudanum would only increase the hallucinations," I whispered, keeping my voice pitched low so Wilhelmina wouldn't hear. "I'll stay with her," I added. "I expect the night to be long."

  "You need anything, young miss," she said, using the moniker she'd adopted when my mother had passed, "you call right away, you hear?"

  "I will, Hardwick," I promised, giving the older woman an impromptu hug, and then ushering her out the door.

  I turned and looked across the room to Mina, her body so small in the voluminous bed. Her face so pale, her lips still trembling.

  "Sleep, sweet Mina," I said, tucking in the edge of her bedclothes. "I'll be right here," I promised, pulling the hard backed chair from her desk to beside the bed, and wrapping a throw about my shoulders as I took it.

  I stared at my cousin until the sun rose.

  I stared at her as she stared up at the ceiling, unseeing, unblinking. Not really there.

  I was still staring at her when I heard Hardwick scream.

  And through it all, through everything, Mina didn't even stir.

  Eighteen

  I Owed It To Them

  Anna

  Mrs Hardwick stood shaking in the entrance foyer, a box sitting open at her feet. From my perch on the bottom tread, I could see what awaited inside. But I could only guess which part of Helen's anatomy he'd chosen this time, and the answer was not welcome in the slightest.

  "See to Wilhelmina, Mrs Hardwick," I instructed.

  "What devil works this evil, Miss Cassidy?" the housekeeper whispered, not moving from her stance above the delivery.

  "Not a devil, Mrs Hardwick. But evil this man is."

  "Why here? Why to you?"

  I shook my head. I did not know the answer, but the censure in the old woman's eyes was enough for me to reply curtly.

  "See to my cousin, Hardwick. I will send word to the inspector."

  "Right you are, miss," she answered without inflection. The lack of tone enough to tell me she was worried beyond all sense.

  Hardwick walked stiffly past me to the stairwell, and began to climb the stairs with exaggerated aggression in every step. Keeping her occupied with Wilhelmina was the surest way to avoid a talking to.

  Not that anything she had to say wasn't something I hadn't already considered.

  The Cassidy residence was in danger. Under attack, Hardwick would dramatically say. And with my father gone, she had expected me to marry quickly. Ensuring all of our safety. The fact that I hadn't and now a killer had singled us out, was proof enough in the old woman's eyes of my selfishness. My inability to do what she perceived as right.

  Had Kelly proposed I may well have followed the expected path. But he hadn't. Not even come close to suggesting that was a possibility. And there was no other man who held a match to him. Not for me. Not ever.

  I waited until I heard Mina's door click shut behind the housekeeper and then I took the steps necessary to reach the parcel's side. It was a plain brown box, one you could easily acquire at the postal office. Inside lay a meaty lump of flesh, nestled in the same thin paper the killer had used to package Mary's tongue. I crouched down and lifted the edge of one of the fine sheets, peering under the "gift." It was obvious he'd placed the breast upside down, allowing the first glimpse to be that of muscle tissue, fat and bloody sinew, rather than pale skin and her nipple.

  A soft sound of distress left me. I tamped down the emotion and delved deeper into the box, locating the letter I had known would be included. I pulled it out, replacing the breast where it had originally been, and unfolded the crisp parchment. It matched the one delivered yesterday. The same embossed flower in the corner, taunting in its pristine beauty the words that mocked with their evil filth.

  My dearest Miss Cassidy,

  Perhaps it is fitting that my next honoured deliverance be that of one of your misguided friends. I shall imagine your wistful thanks, your lush lips pressed into a determined grin.
For I know you understand the importance of our work. You alone have walked this path, but not yet been accepted into the higher planes of its existence. Never fear, for I shall guide you. Together we will traverse the loftier heights of Dedication.

  Did you like the location? I chose it for two reasons, of course. The nearness of the inspector's not so private operations room and the inclusion of the horn blowing cherubs. Isn't love a strange thing? The heralding of something thought to be good. But like Miss Nelson, Kelly does not fully commit. Will he? Will she?

  'Tis fitting they now both haunt the Albert Barracks.

  Yours in truth only,

  SF

  It took several attempts to decipher the penmanship. Even more to unravel the misspelled words. But where one word was incorrectly written, the same word later appeared perfect. I traced the line of the red inked letters with a slow finger, wondering at this oddity, but unable to conclude anything of worth.

  With determined movements I reached down and picked the box up and walked with it and the letter into my surgery. I noticed my hand shook slightly, as I laid the items down on my workbench. I stared for too long at the gruesome delivery and then went in search of the stablehand. Having organised a message to be taken forthwith to Inspector Kelly, I returned to the main house and was just walking down the hallway toward my surgery, dread and nausea swirling in my gut, when a knock sounded out on the front door.

  The house was otherwise still. Hardwick and Wilhelmina ensconced in my cousin's room. The vile message sitting innocuously upon my bench. I stared into the surgery as I passed, a shiver racing down my spine, and then opened the door without allowing myself to think on it.

  There stood a dark shadow, blocking out the morning sun, hat in hand, cane braced at an angle to his impressive side.

  "That was quick," I remarked, and received a frown in reply. "My boy found you already?" I enquired.

  "What boy?" Kelly demanded, standing stoically regal on my front door step. He looked immaculate, but had obviously not slept a wink, merely managed to wash and change his attire.

  I frowned back in return. "Why are you here, Inspector?" I said instead of answering his abrupt question.

  "I.. ah," he began, stuttering over his words in a fashion I had never heard Inspector Kelly utilise before. He cleared his throat. "I wished to check on you and your cousin."

  "Oh," was all I managed before warmth stole all possibility of thought.

  "To ensure you were well tended by the constable I left across the street," he added, somehow causing the heat that had unfurled to evaporate.

  "Ah," I said, standing aside and ushering him in with a sweep of my arm. "Then please do enter."

  "Thank you," he remarked rather formally, his shoulder brushing against mine as he walked past. I noticed the set of his back when the contact was made, the stiffness only abating once he'd made it several feet inside the hall.

  "You are well?" he asked, walking toward the drawing room, as a guest would expect to be received there.

  "Not quite," I murmured, making him halt in his tracks. He spun to look at me then, his eyes darting over my face, the hard lines of his disapproval growing more prominent with every sweep of his gaze. Once he reached the cloak I still wore inside, the blood on the cuffs still evident from last night, and the red stain to my hands which I still had not had the wherewithal to remove, his frown turned into a perturbed scowl.

  "Why have you not changed?" he asked, and then immediately flushed an amusing pink.

  I smiled, although I was sure it was brittle, and led the way into my surgery. I heard his cane echo across the room from behind, but determined it best not to turn around.

  Eye contact had always been my downfall where the inspector was concerned.

  "Wilhelmina did not take the news well," I said softly.

  "I am sorry to hear that," he murmured back.

  "Hardwick is with her, but I remained at her side through the night."

  He crossed to the wash basin, picking up the jug and pouring water into the prettily decorated porcelain bowl my father had kept to the side. He slowly pulled his gloves off, placing them neatly, one on top of the other, and then beckoned me closer.

  I credited my discombobulated state since Albert Park the night before for the fact I went to him without hesitation.

  "Here," he gruffly whispered, reaching down and lifting my hand up, his fingers warm against the frigid chill of my limb. Gently he washed the blood away. First one hand and then the other, drying them off carefully with a soft cloth I had hanging to the side.

  He turned and looked down at my hands, still resting in both of his, his face impassive, his eyes dark orbs of swirling emotion.

  "You don't take enough care of yourself, Anna," he murmured. The volume of his voice making the moment more intimate than it needed to be. "Scarlet," he added, but didn't elaborate.

  I pulled free of his grip, suddenly self-conscious. And walked the short distance to my bench. The room was warm, Hardwick having set and lit the fire before venturing out the front door and finding the delivery, at a guess. I crossed to the hearth instead, ignoring the call of the evidence inside the box, and held my hands out, trying to warm them.

  Nothing worked. Without Kelly's larger hands wrapped around them they seemed frozen through.

  I didn't hear him approach, but suddenly his fingers were at the collar of my cloak, deftly removing it in one swift motion that shocked for its intimacy as well as its quickness. In seconds I was appropriately attired for inside the house, no more blood on my sleeves, or evidence of what had transpired on my pale skin.

  I stared at my hands, my fingers trembling, as Kelly stood silently at my side. He waited with infinite patience, until I was ready to talk.

  "Helen was with Wilhelmina yesterday," I found myself saying. "They picked up a flyer from Crowther's campaign."

  "And were singled out," Kelly added, his words even, his presence that of an anchor to a storm tossed ship on rough seas.

  "Why Helen?" I said, saying the words I hadn't dared utter until then. "Why her and not Wilhelmina?"

  "Chance," Kelly offered, not couching his reply to save my sensibilities. That's what I admired about Inspector Kelly. Where a case was concerned, he often treated me as a surgeon rather than a woman. I wasn't sure he was aware of it. And sometimes he did follow the rules.

  But when his guard was down, like it so obviously was right now, he slipped up and allowed me to believe I was his equal.

  "First Margaret at a Suffragette rally that culminated at a mayoral race stand," I said, staring steadfastly at the flickering flames in the hearth, denying myself the desire to face the man. "Then Mary near a council owned warehouse, which, I can only assume, must have some significance to the elections if its more nefarious uses were to become public knowledge."

  "An interesting assessment," Kelly managed, before there was a loud bang at the doorway to the surgery and we both turned to see Wilhelmina storming in.

  I opened my mouth to ask if she was all right, only to slam it shut again when she raised a finger and pointed it, rather rudely, directly at my face.

  "Mary?" she all but yelled. "You did not tell me of Mary!" she added, hands fisting, eyes flashing, anger and fear making her rather stunning to behold.

  "Wilhelmina," I began.

  "No, Anna," she snapped back. "Three dead not two. How could you keep this from me? From Helen?" She hiccoughed on Helen's name, her trembling hand coming up to her lips to stifle a sob. "Had we known..."

  "Had you been aware of Miss Bennett's demise, you still may well have been targeted," Inspector Kelly interrupted. "Besides, Miss Cassidy was under strict orders to keep certain information quiet."

  "From me?" Mina shouted, rounding on the man. I stepped forward to intercept, but Kelly held up his hand, stalling my forward motion.

  "From everyone," he said firmly. "And like her father, she is well trained in police etiquette. I praise her for her vigilance."


  "Even though it may have caused a death," Mina said, the words out before she could stop them. Her eyes rounded to the size of saucers, her lips quivering as she glanced my way.

  I'm not sure if it was the shock of seeing Mina up and engaging so quickly after an attack, or the fact that the inspector had come to my defence which left me speechless. But I could no further soothe my cousin's conscience than I could my own.

  We stared at each other and that's when the inspector noticed the parcel.

  He took a step towards it, his entire being on full alert; from the way he held himself, to the obvious lack of need to use his cane to walk, it was clear the inspector was entirely focused on new evidence. And then he halted in his tracks, swinging back to face us and blocking Mina's view of what he had discovered.

  I think I loved him even more in that moment, if it had been at all possible.

  "Miss Cassidy," he said, directing the words to my cousin. "My condolences on your loss. We are endeavouring to do everything in our power to catch the culprit, which includes utilising your cousin's skills and advice."

  I blinked. Mina just swung her head towards me, her lips parting in surprise and a healthy dose of regret for her previous words. She shook herself slightly and then looked back towards the inspector.

  "I shall leave you to your business, then," she managed in a strained whisper-quiet voice.

  "It would be appreciated," Kelly said with a small nod of his head in thanks. "I must ask, however," he added, halting her movements to escape. "That you too are cautious in whom you trust to confide."

  "I have no intention of going anywhere, Inspector," my cousin announced, her chin lifting in a surprising show of defiance. "Let alone entertain guests whilst in mourning for my dearest friend."

  My heart ached; I wanted to go to her. But the look she threw my way - one of disapproval and clear rebuff - froze my body solid. With a flurry of skirt hem she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room. Managing an impressive bang as the door slammed closed behind her.

  Wilhelmina was not one to throw a fit. But her emotions were raw, and the darkness she so often succumbed to would have been calling, and I was just immensely grateful that she was feeling anything right now, anything strong enough to keep her head above water.