I hated this. I wanted to rage and scream against the injustice.
My heart ached.
“Andrew,” I whispered.
The world held its breath and then he softly, so very softly it would not be overheard, said, “My darling.”
And then left.
I stood in the hallway unmoving until Mrs Hardwick found me several long, interminable minutes later.
“’Tis almost time to break fast,” she said. “Would you like a bite before you retire for a wee while, miss?”
I had patients to see this morning, and a murder case to avoid. Somehow I doubted I’d achieve either of those objectives.
“I shall rouse Mina, Hardwick,” I said. “We’ll dine together.”
“As you wish, miss,” the housekeeper said and returned to her duties in the kitchen.
I climbed the stairs, the ache in my ankle giving me a sense of repetition. However, I did not trail behind two overbearing men who chose to judge my life on this occasion. Chalmers was becoming evermore harsh in his critique. Since I had returned from London with the requisite degree in hand, he had become more barbarous in his delivery.
I feared I would never see inside the police surgery again.
Mina stirred as I entered her bedroom. I pulled the drapes back, gaining a splendid view of the sun rising above Rangitoto Island in the distance. Our home was midway up the steep incline that is Franklin Street; it afforded us a pleasant view of Freemans Bay itself and toward Commercial Bay and the hub of the city.
However, I had always felt my father chose this location to build his home surgery on for more than the view. Its closeness to the slums of Auckland City was evidence of that. Papa was ever the socialist.
“Good morning, sweeting,” I said as I crossed to Mina’s bedside. She looked pale and fragile and gaunt.
I hated seeing her so depleted of energy.
“The day dawns, and it is stunning,” I added.
Mina blinked owlishly at me. The tremors had subsided some, but the recompense for such would be a plummet in her frame of mind. There would be no butterflies caught this morning.
“I do not want to rise this morning,” she said. “It is warm in bed.”
“Hardwick will have the fire set in the dining room,” I offered, preparing her clothes for the day. “Or perhaps you would prefer breakfast in the parlour. The chairs are much more accommodating there, don’t you think?”
“What are you wearing?”
I glanced down at the apron, noting belatedly that it bore the evidence of Andrew’s wounds from last night.
“My apologies,” I said and removed the offending article forthwith. “I had forgotten I still wore this.”
I bundled it up and placed it in the laundry chute. With the reminder of what had transpired disappeared, I turned with a forced smile of cheer on my face to wage the battle before me.
Mina blinked at my dress.
“Is your corset undone?” she said. “Lo!” she added, sitting forward in her bed. “Not just your corset, but the skirts themselves have been attacked. Anna!” she admonished. “What on earth did you do with the inspector?”
I cringed as I noted the stains on the skirts of my dress. My hands immediately went to the telltale evidence of damnation. I scrubbed a clean piece of the skirt’s material against the marks, but it failed to remove the blemish completely.
And anyway, the damage had been done.
I threw myself down into a chair at the side of Anna’s bed and laughed.
She giggled back at me.
“Anna Louisa Cassidy,” she said. “You must divulge everything! Was it romantic?”
I laughed harder, unable to stop the rising hysteria.
Mina pursed her lips together and said, “I believe there is a story there you wish me not to uncover. Best you get yourself dressed before Sergeant Blackmore arrives this morning; I am one thing, but for Andrew’s colleague to be made aware of your compromised position is quite another.”
The mention of Blackmore made all levity leave me.
“Mina,” I said.
She studied my face.
“What is it?”
Damn that woman. Damn her to hell.
What if Blackmore were innocent? What if I cut Mina off from the one thing that kept her so stable? What if I lost my cousin because of a lie told in a letter?
What if I let him into our house and lost Mina because of it?
It was a damnable situation and one I did not have an answer for.
Mina had woken this morning out of sorts. She’d risen above that malaise to interact with me over scintillating discoveries. I would send her back whence she came if I denied her Blackie.
I walked a tightrope with Wilhelmina as I had done with my mother. And if I were not careful, I would make the same mistakes.
Decision made.
“Please ensure Hardwick is present when the sergeant is, Mina,” I told her. “It is one thing for me to be ruined, but I will not countenance you becoming so maligned.”
“I should like to be a little ruined, Anna,” she replied steadily. “It would pass the time of day.”
I smiled despite my misgivings.
“I need him,” she said softly. “He understands me.”
And he let her be who she needed to be without judgement or direction.
Mina would be swallowed whole by most men in marriage. She would lose herself becoming what they desired of her most. But not so with Sergeant Blackmore. He had demons of his own he chased, and he allowed Wilhelmina the time to chase hers in the relative safety of his company.
Or so I hoped.
“Very well,” I said. “But Hardwick will be watching. I will make sure of it.”
“And who will be watching you and the inspector, Anna?”
“Dear Lord, I hope no one, dearest. They would have received quite an eyeful.”
She laughed again, a gay and beguiling sound, just as I had intended. With more vigour than I thought possible, Mina climbed from the bed and began her daily routine, while I laid out her clothes for her. We had a long road to walk, Mina and I, but God willing we would reach the end of the hazardous stretch that lay before us. Reach it and be safe.
Mama had not had that chance; I was determined Mina would.
Once Mina was downstairs and greeting Mrs Hardwick, I quickly divested myself of all evidence of last evening once and for all. It was relatively easy to do so physically, not so in my mind. I still tasted him. I still felt him. I missed him.
And there would be no relief to be had any time soon if we did not discover where Eliza May had hidden herself.
As I dressed, I pondered just that. Auckland was a large city. Not as large as London, to be sure. But there were many places to hide. The horse, however, was not so easy to disguise. And not many on this side of Queen Street would miss such a beast if left out in the open. I concluded that although Eliza May was adept at walking the streets of a city’s slums, she would not be residing there.
But that left an inordinate amount of space to uncover.
I did know one thing for certain, though; Mrs Elizabeth Yates was a horse lover. Aside from becoming the first female mayor in the British Empire, she harked from a family of equine breeders. It was her political accomplishments, however, that I would use to gain an audience, I decided. Quite a feat and one I had not yet had a chance to congratulate her on.
I may well have been told to avoid suffrage meetings, but that did not include a visit to the woman at her house.
And then, well, I could easily enquire as to her family’s efforts on the equine front.
Pleased with my plan, I made haste to the dining room and partook of a pleasant meal with Mina. Her hands did shake, but she carried the conversation well, and for now, I took that as the success that it was.
When Mina settled herself in the back garden with a blanket and a book, I approached Mrs Hardwick.
I stood beside the housekeeper at the kitchen window and
watched my cousin as she read, the sun glinting off her blonde hair, making it shine. My mother’s hair had become dull and listless in the end; we had not reached that stage with Wilhelmina.
I hoped we never would.
“I’ll watch her, miss,” Hardwick said softly from my side. “She’ll be well cared for, and I’m sure the sergeant will call on her in due course as well.”
“It is the sergeant I fear, Hardwick,” I told her.
“Say it isn’t so!”
I turned and looked down at the housekeeper. How much to tell her? She had been a faithful servant to this family for decades. She had loved my father. I was sure, she loved my cousin and me to some degree as well.
“He is not to be left alone with her,” I ordered. “Have Charlie attend you in the kitchen. Should you need the muscle, he would be well placed here.”
“I…” Hardwick managed and then snapped her mouth closed.
“I would tell you why, Hardwick,” I offered, “but not now.” Not yet. “Trust me in this.”
“Of course, miss. But the sergeant?”
“All in good time,” I said. And hopefully never.
“If you say so, miss. But the sergeant?”
I opened my mouth to reiterate my command when a gruff voice said over our shoulders, “What about the sergeant?”
We spun to face none other than Sergeant Blackmore.
For a stunned second, I said nothing. However, I was not so shocked that I had missed his appearance inside the house and not down the side of it and into the garden. Had he knocked and we hadn’t heard? Or had he simply let himself in and wandered the halls searching for clues for his mistress?
I hated this doubt and wariness.
But that was the least of my problems. Sergeant Blackmore looked at me as if I had kicked his puppy; he had heard our discussion. Thank the heavens I hadn’t said too much, but what I had said had been enough.
“There you are,” I greeted, plastering a smile on my face that actually hurt. “Mina is expecting you.”
“Aye, I dare say she is an’ all. But so was you, Doctor.”
He held my wide-eyed, hopefully, innocent stare with a shrewd one of his own. Sergeant Blackmore was a good police officer. That was why Andrew had relied on him so heavily for so long.
“He has turned you against me,” he murmured. “I should ‘ave seen it coming, but still…”
I felt wretched. He looked crushed.
It was not my show of unfaithfulness, I was sure, that put that look on the man’s face. But instead, the blow Andrew’s confiding in me had caused.
The moment stretched; awkward and uncomfortable. I had never felt uncomfortable in Blackmore’s presence before.
Andrew needed to confront the man. But if there was a shred of truth to his wife’s words, then confrontation might be his downfall.
I hated this.
“Well,” I said, dusting my hands. “Do enjoy your visit, Sergeant.” I turned to Hardwick, who wore the expression of a woman caught in the middle of an unconscionable argument. My eyes pleaded with her for help.
“Right you are, miss,” she said. “Your first booking should be at the door. Off with you now. The sergeant and I will tend to Miss Wilhelmina.”
I made the mistake of looking back as I reached the hall. Blackmore watched me with unfathomable eyes; dark and filled with such demons.
I was sending that man into the garden with my cousin, and for a moment I thought myself mad.
I swallowed the notion, sick to my stomach, and walked toward my surgery.
For the first time since my father’s death, it did not welcome me.
I felt a stranger in my own home.
No, This Day Was Not About To Get Any Better, But Whisky Might Help
Inspector Kelly
The smell of camphor and vinegar and other such harsh scents met my nose as I crossed the threshold into Drummond’s surgery, making sure I hid the wince that wanted out each time I shifted my torso. At one time, this had been a light and welcoming place, despite the evidence of man’s cruelty so oft on display here. I had memories of conversations that ranged in topic from the state of politics and religion in the country to the nuances of international scientific advancements and the plight of the humble medicine man in Africa by comparison.
A smile curved my lips slightly. It was thus presented that Drummond looked up from the cadaver on his table and noticed me.
“What do you want?” he growled.
“Doctor,” I said, my voice even. “Take care, sir. I am the Chief Inspector of this Police Force.”
I could have sworn he muttered, “Not for long.”
I ignored the jab and crossed the small space to his dissecting table. He had one of the Bohemians out on the slab again.
“Have you found new evidence?” I enquired.
“The puncture marks trouble me,” he offered more reasonably. I might not have liked the man, but he was a decent surgeon, when not on the gin of course.
“What of them?” I asked.
“They mean something.” Anna had thought the same. The notion of both physicians being in accord was not one I was sure Anna would wish to consider. “The chest wound is a given considering the device used,” he added. “But the marks, so evenly spaced, identical to one another. And yet their placement above the carotid artery is not the cause of death.”
“Perhaps they were designed as a distraction only and the placement a mere convenience,” I offered.
“Possibly. But in that case, why not slit the throat?” He made a slashing motion with his arm as if he wielded a knife or such. He shook his head and sighed. “I cannot fathom; why punctures? Why the artery? Why two?”
It was a piece to the puzzle we did not have.
“The device,” I said, getting the man back onto something we had uncovered. “Its weight has been confirmed?”
“Yes, yes,” he said, disagreeably. He looked at me over the rim of his glasses. “It would appear your assessment is correct; the device is too heavy for a woman to wield.”
“Indeed.”
“That doesn’t mean she’s still not involved,” he snapped.
“My wife?”
“That interfering get of Thomas Cassidy’s. His daughter. The impertinent chit who happens to have a degree in medicine…as if that means anything at all.”
“There is nothing tying Anna Cassidy to the crimes, Drummond, and you know it.”
“Other than the fact that this body” - he slapped a palm on the dissecting table between us - “was found in her home surgery. And her tools were found beside the second murder victim also. What say you to that?”
“I say my wife is trying to muddy the waters, wouldn’t you?”
“This demmed wife of yours,” he muttered. “Just what the dickens have you brought to our city?”
“Marriage is not always pleasant, Drummond. You are in the early days of yours and have yet to annoy the woman sufficiently. Give it time.”
“You think my wife anything like yours, Kelly? How dare you?”
He puffed up like a spitting tomcat; his eyes narrowed to tiny dots on his ruddy face.
“I should take a swing at you for that,” he growled, his fists bunched at his sides but no less for their lowered position at the ready.
“You and I both know you would lose, John.”
“You have a nerve coming in here and spouting off about my marriage when yours is in such disarray, and you’re dallying about with a young woman. The day Chalmers evicts you from this station couldn’t be a day too soon in my opinion. You think your record in Whitechapel will save you, but you have taken too many liberties, sir. The day will come when Auckland will be rid of you and your murderess wife once and for all.”
“That day is not yet. Have you the autopsy?”
“Not to mention the Cassidy chit you take great measures to ruin. It is not enough that the demmed gal is a menace to all those about her and has visions of grandeur unbecoming
a female in today’s society. But you have to drag her down to the gutter with you and defile her with your filthy degenerate ways.”
I was around the table and swinging at the man before I could think better of it. Drummond took the hit and did me the favour of returning it. We grappled, my thigh ached, the odd fist connecting, my stitches stretching, a burst of air being expelled, and then we rocked into a table containing his tools and made them scatter.
Someone shouted at the sound of metal clinking and glass breaking, and then bobbies were in the room tearing us apart, as the Chief Constable of the Watch shouted at us to “Put a lid on it, you daft sods!”
Someone held me still, my arms securely contained behind my back. Someone else attempted to do the same to Drummond, but he somehow escaped. The punch this time was brutal; having no way to counter it as I was trussed up. I was only grateful he hit my nose and not my already damaged body.
Chief Constable Davies bellowed out an order to “Contain that man, for God’s sake!” And then he took one look at my bloodied face and shook his head in disappointment.
“It was bound to come to this one day,” he said quietly, his words I was sure were directed to me. And then he proved as such by adding, “But today was not a good day to choose, Kelly.”
Chalmers walked into the room on that ominous note and took one look at my bloody nose and Drummond’s bruised jaw, then let his eyes scan the mess we’d made of his surgery. I could tell what he was thinking because I too would have come to the same conclusion had I not been involved.
I was in the doctor’s domain. I had entered a man’s house and attacked him.
I forced myself to relax in the constable’s clutches and stepped out of his hold when he released me. Standing tall, as I wiped my nose with a handkerchief, I said, “Have you the autopsy, Drummond?”
“It is complete,” the doctor replied, his words slurred due to the swelling of his lips and jaw. “I placed it in your tray this morning.”
Another nail in my coffin for coming in here.
“You lot,” the chief constable boomed. “Back to work.” The constables who’d come to his aid scattered, much like the dissecting tools Drummond and I had dislodged during our fisticuffs. “If that’s all, sir,” Chief Davies said to Chalmers.
Heartless (Scarlet Suffragette, Book 3): A Victorian Historical Romantic Suspense Series Page 12