Chapter 9

Nine

Sussex Square had been transformed.

My great-aunt is known for her soirees, as she calls them. Small, intimate, get-togethers from time-to-time, that just happen to rival those of royal celebrations.

It was always amazing to watch everything come together with the expertise of a general who commanded a vast army.

However, "small and intimate" may have been a slight exaggeration. The Duke of Wellington had nothing on Lady Antonia Montgomery when it came to organization, commanding a campaign, and then executing with precision.

"Bloody hell!" Brodie exclaimed, the lights of Sussex Square illuminating the night sky before our coach had even arrived at the gates.

"I should have warned you. With the changes the architect made, there is every possibility that she is taking the occasion to celebrate that as well as the reception for Sir James."

"The perfect situation for a thief to take advantage." A blunt reaction to my aunt's efforts .

"I am confident Munro has everything well in hand," I replied. "This is not his first soiree."

The entire front of the great old manor was illuminated from the main entrance up to the second-floor balconies. As a child growing up in that grand place, I had always loved all the candles and torches set about the grounds that had not been replaced by electric lights.

Our driver pulled to a stop at the end of the long line of coaches that had arrived ahead of us, with additional staff to assist the guests as they arrived.

I signaled him by tapping on the roof of the coach with my umbrella and asked him to take us round to the servant's entrance.

The driver pulled round to the east side of the manor and one of my aunt's servants scurried down the steps and opened the door.

"Evenin', Miss Mikaela, Mr. Brodie."

Even the servants' entrance had been transformed with barrels and crates of food, and the essence of some lavish meal that had been planned for the evening that filled the night air.

Brodie grimaced. "It occurs to me that your notion about making an excuse might have been far more pleasurable."

I tucked my arm through his. "Too late, and I do like your frowns almost as much as a smile."

"What are ye blathering about, woman?"

"Onward, Mr. Brodie, the party awaits."

Oh, my, I thought, as we reached the main hallway that led to the ballroom that had also been transformed.

It was possible that my aunt had outdone herself. Give her an occasion and that free spirit was capable of almost anything.

Tonight she had managed to recreate her version of Egypt, no doubt in honor of Sir James' travels. Or at least her version of that fascinating and ancient country where I had also traveled.

A panorama of the Valley of the Kings, recreated on screens, filled one wall of the ballroom complete with palm trees, a caravan of travelers making their way across the desert, and several Bedouin on a distant hillside waiting.

I was surprised that my aunt hadn't arranged for Cleopatra to make an appearance.

"Oh my," I commented as we made our way across the room to "Egypt." It was very much like the scenes recreated in museums and looked extremely familiar.

"What is it?" Brodie asked.

"It appears that my aunt has appropriated the background screens from the London Museum."

We crossed the "Nile" on what was in fact a stream of water redirected from a fountain in the garden room with a footbridge that had been constructed in the shape of one of the boats that could be found on that river, complete with a full-sized sail.

I peered over the "railing" as we crossed the bridge.

"What are ye looking for?" Brodie asked.

In consideration of my own personal experience on the River Nile, it was more a reflexive gesture— searching for crocodiles or the occasional body floating about.

I was relieved to see that my aunt hadn't appropriated one— crocodile that is, not a human body. Though, nothing would have surprised me.

"No bodies this evening," I replied.

"From yer adventures?" he took my hand and slipped my arm through his.

"An exciting few weeks, where I learned to expect almost anything," I explained.

"With Sir Redstone, I presume."

Now what was that about, I wondered?

My aunt was presently deep in conversation with a personal acquaintance— one of her ladies that she played cards with, and Sir James.

"Mikaela dear, and Brodie! Do come and greet our guest of honor," she called out.

Then, "Good heavens, Brodie," my aunt commented. "What have you done to yourself?"

I had attempted to persuade him to apply some of my face powder, however…

"A minor incident," he replied with a shake of his head. "Nothing more."

"You must take care, Brodie," she said quite affectionately. "Who else is there to retrieve Mikaela from her latest adventure?"

There were moments with my aunt. I turned to Sir James.

He was as I remembered him from our recent re-acquaintance, though somewhat older as I had observed that particular evening at the theater. However, still distinguished looking as I politely greeted him.

"My dear, Mikaela. It is good to see you once more. Lady Montgomery has been so kind to host this soiree this evening. And, Mr. Brodie," he added, almost as an afterthought.

Brodie merely nodded in that way of his. He was not one to draw attention to himself and preferred it that way.

"Yes, something about private inquiries that you make on behalf of clients, I seem to remember," Sir James commented. "Most interesting."

I was surprised that he even remembered. Or did he mean something else with the comment?

"They undertake those inquiries together," my aunt explained. "Mikaela has become most proficient in resolving the most complicated cases and seems to enjoy scrabbling about in old buildings or going off to some place or another. With Mr. Brodie's assistance, of course."

"Fascinating," Sir James commented. "Something to occupy yourself, and of course such skills are necessary I suppose, with crime that seems to be everywhere."

Brodie and Sir James were of an even height but with a marked difference in their appearance. Though somewhat lean, Redstone held himself with that familiar bearing among those of the ton, what might be considered an elegant bearing.

Brodie's bearing was reserved, watchful, the evening coat stretched across wide shoulders and about well-muscled arms. And then there was his overlong hair, much in need of a trim, but which I had come to like very much.

"And you were once with the much-esteemed Metropolitan Police," Sir James commented.

Once more, Brodie merely nodded.

"Some of their inquiries have been most complicated and quite intriguing, even dangerous I must say." My aunt turned to me. "You must tell him about the illusionist and that poor girl who was murdered in the glass box. Dreadful situation."

"An adventure indeed, Miss Forsythe," Sir James suggested.

To anyone else Brodie might have seemed merely distracted, perhaps even bored with the direction of the conversation. However, I caught the slight narrowing of that dark gaze, his blackened eye notwithstanding.

Not distracted or bored, I thought. That razor-sharp mind was always at work. It had to be something else.

Brodie nodded, then turned to my aunt. "With your permission, Lady Montgomery, I will find Mr. Munro and see that everything… is in order."

By "everything" I knew from our earlier conversation that he referred to that "perfect opportunity for thieves" with guests arriving, servants coming and going, and the manor quite accessible to anyone else who might enter on an evening like this.

"London's finest, ever watchful," Sir James drily commented, which I found to be irritating and not to mention condescending. It was something I had not noticed in him during our travels years past.

Brodie merely nodded. "A particular… habit of mine. To make certain that there are no issues that might jeopardize the evening or her ladyship's guests."

With that he was gone, making his way through the guests that had gathered and those who were just arriving.

"An illusionist, the case must have been fascinating," Sir James said. "An unusual inclination for private inquiries into murders, a hobby perhaps?"

"Not at all," I replied. "There are many instances where certain crimes might go unsolved if not for our efforts."

He smiled. "I do remember from our mutual travel adventures your affinity for taking risks and going off on your own, which could be very dangerous."

"Balderdash," my aunt declared. "Oh, there is Sir Reginald, from the London Museum. I do owe a debt of gratitude to the man. He made it possible for me to acquire the panorama and the sarcophagi for the night, as well as some of the masks found in tombs.

"On loan, of course and with great care taken," she added. "It wouldn't do not to invite him after his generosity. Of course, everything must be returned after the evening. The damp weather can have a dreadful effect on them, quite different from Egypt." She laughed then. "It wouldn't do to have the mummies moldering inside the sarcophagi."

I didn't bother to explain that there were undoubtedly no mummies inside them as I had learned in previous visits to the museum and the antiquities department at university in my research for one of my novels. Those were very carefully preserved in glass cases.

With that, my aunt sailed off much like that replica of a boat on the Nile, across the bridge to where Sir Reginald stood looking very much the sort that one would find in a museum— distracted by everything about him and vaguely confused.

"I was somewhat surprised to learn that you had married," Sir James commented. "Although you were quite young at the time, you always seemed the sort that would go your own way, and now a novelist as well," he continued in a far warmer manner that might almost be considered flirtatious.

"I am grateful for the success, and it has allowed me to live independently."

"Independent from your husband as well?"

That certainly seemed a bold question. I ignored it and moved the conversation in a different direction.

"Your travels have kept you away for some time. What brings you back to London?"

I caught the slight lift of a brow.

"It was time, and I was curious to see if everything is the same as it was when I was last in England," he replied. "It seems that nothing has changed."

That seemed quite cryptic.

"There have been many changes the past few years," I replied. "We have more electric throughout the city as well as telephone service in most districts. Many of the older tenement buildings have been removed, with new ones planned for improved housing."

I thought of the tenement in Aldgate and what we had found there.

"The city is actively working with various charitable organizations to assist the poor," I continued. "It is said that very soon the underground rail system will be complete, with discussion about rail service under the channel connecting to France.

"There are advances in medical research as well," I added, thinking once more of Dr. Bennett and the procedures that had driven him to that tenement in Aldgate for some purpose.

"The workings of your mind were always most fascinating," he commented. "I remember that you particularly had a great compassion for the downtrodden. Most unusual, and not at all what someone might expect of someone… of title and wealth. However, things are never quite what they seem, are they?"

That seemed an odd thing to say, I thought as we traversed back across the "Nile," and I looked over the edge once more. I was grateful that my aunt hadn't acquired a creature to wander about, although I wouldn't have put it past her.

Templeton's iguana came to mind. Most certainly not the sort of creature that might be found in Egypt. Still, he would have made quite an interesting addition.

"Looking for something?" Sir James inquired. "Crocodiles perhaps?"

"No, bodies," I replied, thinking of that shared experience.

"A body?" he replied, almost as if he didn't remember it.

"I told my aunt about our adventure on the Nile."

"Yes…" he replied. "I had forgotten that sordid experience. A long time ago."

It had been quite unnerving for our fellow travelers. I then heard my name very nearby as we left the "Nile" and my sister approached along with Mr. Warren and Lily.

Linnie was thoroughly charmed by Sir James as she had heard most of my stories of my adventures or read about them in my novels.

"I have never traveled beyond France, but Mikaela most certainly has. Is it really as dangerous as everyone says that it is?"

"It can be…" he replied, then Mr. Warren joined the conversation. Perhaps interested in acquiring a distinguished author for his publishing company?

I left them to their questions about Sir James' travels, less interested than I thought I might be. There was something different from the man I had met and traveled with all those years before.

Of course, I was considerably younger then and everything seemed to have a sort of romantic aura about it— Egypt, the River Nile, and camping out in a tent in the desert.

I caught a glance from that striking blue gaze, a slight frown on Lily's face.

"He's right full of himself," she commented. "He's the sort the ladies at the ‘Church' entertained. Thinks himself above others. Not at all like Mr. Brodie."

Quite observant of her.

"Have ye seen a lot of those places they talked about?" she asked, looking quite the young lady in a dress my sister had obviously selected for her.

"Several," I replied. There was of course, that other travel to the Isle of Crete… that quite ironically had included Brodie.

I suggested that we proceed to the dining room where supper had just been announced.

"Will there be strange things there?" Lily asked. "I heard one of the servants talk about unusual food."

Quite possibly I thought, considering my aunt's penchant for authentic details.

"There might be a goat's head, perhaps eel, roast poultry, lamb kofta meatballs served with sauce," I explained.

"A goat's head?" Lily replied with a frown. "But there's chicken? And maybe lamb?"

"Perhaps."

The expression on her face was adorable considering where she had lived previously— people with a penchant for goat's bellies. The frown was still there as she pulled me aside.

"I took this off one of the people who arrived to help the servants tonight." She handed me a lady's bracelet set with stones that were obviously quite valuable.

"He took it off the woman in the silver gown over by that statue."

The statue she pointed out was one of the sarcophagi. The lady was Mrs. Pomeroy, a friend of my aunt and currently in conversation with Sir James. Knowing Mrs. Pomeroy I was certain the bracelet was quite valuable.

"How did you get it?" I asked.

She shrugged. "I pinched it back."

My new role as guardian, sponsor, whatever one wanted to call it, was proving to be most interesting.

I supposed there were some who would have said that two wrongs did not make a right. However, I was not one of them.

While I didn't condone thievery, the fact that Lily had seen something that was wrong and chose to set it right made all the difference to me.

After all, I reasoned, considering where she came from— not unlike Brodie's background, it would have been quite simple for her to say nothing at all, keep the bracelet, and then find an opportunity to sell it. She was, after all, quite resourceful.

She did, however, know the difference between right and wrong as I knew only too well, and I would not fault her for what she had done. Truth be known, I might very well have done the same thing.

"Come along," I told her as we approached the dining room. "I'll see that the bracelet is returned.

"A real goat's head?" she exclaimed.

The evening appeared to be a success for my aunt in introducing Sir James back into mainstream London Society.

"He is quite charming, don't you think," she asked as she found me in a game of cards in the Game Room where I was rapidly being outplayed.

Charming, yes, I thought, and… different from the man who had traveled with our group years before. However, I supposed that I was different as well.

Brodie had connected with Munro as I had suggested. He disappeared for a time, then reappeared, perhaps a little uncomfortable at such events, then later found Lily and myself in the Sword Room. My aunt's soiree, the goat's head, and card games having lost their earlier appeal, Lily had persuaded me to join her there.

"Who is winning?" Brodie asked as he found us, that dark gaze moving from one to the other.

"I got the last point," Lily smugly announced.

"That is still in question. Your mark was illegal," I replied as I countered, parried, and then lunged with the rapier. The blunted tip caught her in the shoulder.

"My point, and match," I called out, bracing the sword before me, and taking my first rest since accepting her challenge.

Brodie crossed the floor and handed me his handkerchief. I was quite damp and my hair had come down. Not the most appealing appearance. He took the sword from me.

"A reminder to me not to challenge either one of ye. Are ye quite finished? The guests are startin' to leave. I thought ye might want to say good-evenin' to yer friend."

"Are ye goin' to tell ‘im?" Lily asked then.

"Tell me wot?" Brodie asked with a look at me.

It appeared that she already had, more or less. I filled in the details regarding the bracelet.

"Can ye identify the man?" Brodie asked her.

She nodded. "Madame always had me keep a sharp eye out, especially with new ladies."

Brodie exchanged a look with me.

"Come along and point the fellow out," he told Lily, then paused before leaving.

He leaned in close, his fingers brushing my chin.

"Have I told ye that I like yer hair down like that?" That dark gaze, including the bruised one, darkened even more.

I felt my cheeks warm.

"Come along, miss," he told Lily.

Then they were gone to confront the thief.

In order to avoid a scene earlier, I had the bracelet returned to Mrs. Pomeroy by Mr. Symons, my aunt's head butler, with the explanation that the clasp must have come undone, and it was "found."

I followed downstairs and caught a glimpse of Munro who was in the process of removing the man in question.

I made our farewells to my aunt and sister, then approached Sir James.

He was in conversation with Sir Robert Crosswhite, a member of Parliament and a long-standing acquaintance of my aunt.

"You must attend now that you have returned," Sir Robert was saying. "Your father was a highly regarded member. Perhaps yourself as well in the future?"

"I appreciate the invitation," Sir James replied.

"Of course, and I will notify my people as well that you are my guest. One can't be too careful these days."

Sir Reginald appeared and politely reminded my aunt that his people would be back promptly in the morning to retrieve the panorama and the other Egyptian artifacts.

"Of course," she smiled.

When he had gone, assured by Mr. Munro that everything would be quite safe, I reminded my aunt, "Do be sure to return both sarcophagi to the museum, as well as all of the screens."

"Whatever do you mean, dear?" she replied appearing most innocent.

"They are on loan from the museum," I told her. "They expect everything to be returned."

"Of course, dear. But it had occurred to me that one of the sarcophagi might add a certain flair to the garden room for my ladies next luncheon…"

She was teasing, of course. At least I hoped that she was.

Brodie and I returned to the office on the Strand after leaving Sussex Square, and once again it occurred to me that the small space that was in fact no larger than my bedroom at the townhouse was quite welcoming.

And of course, there was the adjacent room— the barest of accommodations to be certain, with outside plumbing down at the other end of the landing. Most would have thought it a dreadful inconvenience.

I did not. Perhaps it had to do with my travels to foreign places where accommodations were often limited. Or possibly it had something to do with the person who was there with me.

Brodie stoked up the fire in the stove with more coal and poured a bit of Old Lodge to warm the chill in the bones, as he called it.

I had left the notes Helen Bennett had given us for Dr. Bennett's second book as well as his first book, in the file cabinet after leaving Belgrave Square.

Was there something in either that might tell us the reason he had undertaken that basement office in Aldgate? And the reason he was murdered?

Or had it merely been his way of fighting back against the Society of Medicine and those who had censured his work? Then come upon by a street person, looking for coins or possibly some narcotic?

"Ye didna reprimand the girl for taking the bracelet," Brodie commented as he stepped from the adjacent room, struggling with the tie as he attempted to rid himself of it.

I set my glass on the desk, then went to him. I brushed his hands aside. He had pulled on one end of the tie, tightening rather than loosening it. I slowly worked it loose, then pulled one end from the knot, and removed it. His hand closed over mine.

"Some would say the lass deserved it," he added.

"I was quite a bit younger than Lily when I broke one of my father's strict rules. That was before…" I hesitated, then let that part go.

No need to go back through difficult things, although Brodie was now well aware of most of the circumstances of my younger years.

"I had gone out to the kennels one afternoon when I was supposed to be in my room and let loose my favorite hound— Rupert."

"Ah. That explains a great deal about that smelly beast below that ye seem to have taken a fancy to."

He was right of course.

"I suppose my father was concerned that I might be hurt, going off like that. The hounds were used for hunting, and far outweighed either Linnie or myself at the time. But Rupert was special. I let him out then followed him on an adventure," I continued.

"Not the first of many, most certainly."

I ignored his sarcasm. "We were gone for some time, exploring the woods. I will admit that I became somewhat lost."

"Somewhat? Either ye were lost or ye were not."

I ignored that as well.

"However, I simply followed Rupert home. He knew precisely where he was going. My father was furious of course when we returned." I frowned at the memory.

"He beat Rupert horribly, even though I attempted to explain that he had brought me home, he had done nothing wrong, but simply obeyed me and had then done exactly what he was trained to do…"

"Lily is not a hound," Brodie pointed out. "She needs to know right from wrong."

"The point is," I continued, "that even though what she did might be seen as wrong, she did it for the right reason."

"Somethin' wrong fer the right reason?" Brodie took my hand and pressed it against his cheek.

"It amazes me the way yer thoughts work. A crime to undo a crime?" he suggested.

I was not about to let him get away with that.

"And you have done precisely the very same thing. Munro has told me…"

"I will have to speak with him about sharing stories with ye." He turned my hand and kissed the palm.

"Enough of yer stories, Mikaela Forsythe. There is nothing more to be done tonight. Leave this," he gestured toward the doctor's book and notes, "until the mornin'."

His hand then closed over mine and he led me to the adjacent bedroom.

We both undressed. I then turned off the electric and crawled between ice-cold bedcovers. And Brodie was there.

I moved toward his warmth, his arm going round my shoulders.

"Rupert, ye say? I should have known. Ye have a way of picking up stray things."

I smiled against his shoulder.

Indeed.