Heartless (Scarlet Suffragette, Book 3): A Victorian Historical Romantic Suspense Series
Page 28
A recently arrived and promoted Chief Inspector Edmund Reid, all the way from Whitechapel to bare witness, had stood stoically in the audience chamber, not uttering a word in defence, and watched his former protégé’s name get roasted. He did not confirm or deny that Elliott had been sent here on his orders.
Upon examination, however, it was proved Elliott’s cadaver had bruises on its torso consistent with those inflicted by a closed fist. Chief Davies’ closed fist in point of fact. His marriage certificate to Eliza May, or one Agnes Elliott née Boyle, sealed his posthumous fate completely. Reid’s character reference, should he have chosen to give one, would have been futile.
The Jack the Ripper case had been finally put to bed. The puppeteer condemned to death. Her accomplice awaiting her in the depths of hell where they both belonged.
The last pieces of the puzzle were the puncture marks on the victims’ bodies. An attempt to cause the type of chaos seen in New England and create a heightened fear for the occult. Dr Yates had been a perfect scapegoat, but Eliza May had visited New England, chased there by her third husband; Andrew Kelly. That and the fact that her path had taken her through Europe leant weight to the knowledge required to frame Dr Yates.
Unfortunately for Eliza May, the brutality of her heartless murders meant no one sympathised with the woman. Her death penalty was brought down with much haste.
There was time enough for her to say her piece before the noose tightened, however.
And everything she had done since Jack the Ripper had been because of hatred.
Hatred for Andrew, who had discovered her secret and thwarted her plans. Who had made her flee her country and leave her precious plants. Who had chased her across continents and forced her to live hand to mouth for months. She despised him and everything he stood for and in the end, everything he loved.
There was indeed little sympathy for Agnes Boyle. Only a few witnesses observed her hanging. Those required by law to attend and one man.
I’d held Andrew that entire night; kept him warm and safe and centred. When my arms and whispered words alone had not been enough, I had offered him my body. He’d long ago claimed my heart completely. We’d survived that night and all the nights prior and since because of the love we shared.
And we would survive many more happy ones together.
The hansom came to rest before our home on Franklin Street. I stared out of the buggy at the new extension. My surgery was a replica of the old one, but it lacked certain things. My father’s tools for one. His scratches on the desk. The wear on the chair he’d sat in while he’d taught me so many things.
But the memories were mine, and new ones were being made, so I stepped down from the cab, paid the driver, and turned to walk up the front path, eager for my homecoming.
My gaze landed on a curricle sitting down the side of the house, the horses being tended to by the stablehand in the mews.
The superintendent’s buggy, I thought.
I strode up the path and stormed into the house, intent on rescuing Andrew. For I could not believe Chalmers had come to our home with anything other than trouble in mind.
I found them in the front parlour eating Mrs Hardwick’s Banbury cakes. But Chalmers was not alone. Mr James Entrican, Auckland City’s mayor, stood beside him, crumbs of cake adorning his elaborately tied cravat.
“Dr Kelly,” he said in greeting, bowing slightly. “At last.”
Chalmers grumbled some sort of greeting, but I looked to my husband for an explanation.
Andrew held out his hand, and I took it, for I would never miss an opportunity to touch him when so presented. I handed him the news-sheet. He stared at the headline and smiled.
“Well done,” he whispered. And, really, what more was there to say?
I turned back to the gentlemen in our parlour.
“Mr Entrican,” I greeted. “Superintendent Chalmers. What brings you to Franklin Street?”
Entrican let out a chuckle and said, “Always straight to the point. That’s what I admire about you, Dr Kelly.”
I arched my brow and waited. Andrew suppressed a smile.
“Well then,” Entrican offered, looking to the superintendent. “Shall I do the honours or would you like to, Ian?”
Chalmers scowled and mumbled, “By all means, sir.”
He was here under duress, and a small, petty part of me was enjoying his discomfort.
“Dr Kelly,” Mr Entrican said again. “It is my pleasure to offer you the role of Chief Surgeon for the Auckland Police Force.”
I stood in our front parlour and said nothing.
“Anna?” Andrew murmured. “What think you?”
I looked up at him, and his soft blue eyes grounded me.
“Drummond?” I whispered.
“Retired,” Entrican offered.
Or pushed out by the council.
I turned and looked at the mayor. For this was all his doing.
“Thank you, sir,” I said. “I am honoured.”
“You’ll accept?” he asked.
I looked to Chalmers. He let out a disgruntled breath.
“You stay out of my way, Doctor. And I’ll stay out of yours.”
I shook my head. That was no way to start a working relationship.
“What have I done to earn your disdain, Superintendent?” I asked.
Andrew stiffened beside me. Entrican sucked in a visible breath of air. Chalmers squirmed.
“Nothing,” the man said. “Nothing at all.”
“Then what is it you despise so about me?”
His eyes met mine and then flicked away.
“You are so like him,” he murmured. “The spitting image. Not just in looks, but in your behaviour. Thomas never met an argument he could not win.”
My father. This was about my father.
“My father was a good surgeon, sir,” I snapped.
“The best. Although, you might give his memory a run for its money.”
I blinked. That was a surprise.
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“Nor do you need to,” he replied, gruffly. “Just do your job, do it well, and we’ll get on fine.”
I wasn’t so sure, but the man was not about to reveal his secrets. Something had transpired between him and my father, perhaps mere days before my father’s death. Had it been on Chalmers’ orders that he had travelled to Northland? And the man now carried guilt for sending his friend and colleague into the middle of a native uprising and to his death?
I did not know, and I realised I did not need to know. He had in his own disagreeable way acknowledged my skills and position within the Police Force.
I turned to Mr Entrican and smiled.
“I accept your offer, sir.”
“Splendid,” the mayor announced, dusting himself down and moving toward the door. “Come on, Chalmers. This calls for a cigarillo at The Northern.” He winked at me. “Don’t worry, Dr Kelly. I’m working my magic there, too. Just you wait!”
“I won’t hold my breath, sir,” I told him.
He left the room laughing, with a dour-faced Chalmers at his back.
The fire in the hearth crackled. Andrew slipped an arm around my waist and hauled me against him.
“Congratulations, Dr Kelly,” he murmured against my neck. “This calls for a celebration.”
“It’s the middle of the day,” I told him.
“You have gained the legal right to vote and a role as Police Surgeon at the Auckland Police Force all in the span of one day. How is the timing of our celebration important in light of that?”
“Mrs Hardwick,” I murmured, succumbing to his familiar and much-welcomed touch.
“Visiting Mina and Blackie,” he murmured. “I suggested she buy something special for supper and invite them around. They’ll be hours away.”
“Hours?” I said, arching my brow.
“Long enough for me to have my wicked way.”
I felt the heat of him through his jacket. I felt
the hard length of him press up against me. A shiver wracked my frame. I knew him in the most intimate of ways now, and I craved for the experience again and again.
“Say yes,” he rasped against my earlobe.
“It will always be ‘yes,’ Andrew Kelly,” I told him.
He reached down and swung me up in his arms, and then without a limp to be seen, carried me out of the parlour and up the stairs to the master bedroom. To our bedroom.
And my husband, the man I had loved from afar for years, the man I would now work beside for many more to come, the love of my life, my soul’s mate, Auckland’s finest...kissed me the entire way.
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