Chapter 5

Five

"Tell me, Miss Mikaela, what brings you to my shop this late in the afternoon?" Mr. Brimley asked as I sat at the desk in his small office that was hardly more than part of the storeroom at the back of his shop while Rupert was presently in the company of Mr. Brimley's assistant, Sara.

The hound seemed to have a particular fondness for the ladies. In another life perhaps as a human? If one believed in those things, I imagined he would have been quite the rake.

"Dr. Joseph Bennett, you say?" Mr. Brimley nodded as he poured two mugs of coffee and handed one to me.

"I know of the man. He studied at King's College and is an associate professor of medicine there as well as his lectures at Oxford. He's well-known both as a physician and a surgeon," he continued.

"He has made enormous contributions with reconstructive surgery for those injured in catastrophic accidents as well as the war wounded, though I've never met the man." He made a visual sweep of the office and the shop beyond.

"This is not the sort of place a man of his skill and achievements might frequent." A circumspect smile appeared. "And you're making inquiries for the family, you say?"

I nodded. "What do you know about the sort of person he is?"

"From what I've heard he's very dedicated and well respected. However," he added with that circumspect look again, "if you are asking me about the man himself, I cannot say." He was thoughtful.

"There is someone who might be able to tell you. Dr. Pennington would know more about the man. They've shared joint lectures, I believe. Most particularly regarding the military who returned after injury in India or some other place. There was also some travel to France that I read about, and a series of lectures he gave at some university after he published a book about his works."

A book. How very interesting, I thought.

What might that tell me about the man, if anything?

I had met Dr. Pennington. He had provided valuable information in a previous case. In one of those ways that life makes odd friendships, Mr. Brimley and Dr. Pennington had met in medical school, and remained close even after Mr. Brimley was forced to withdraw before completing his courses and had opened his shop in one of the poorest areas of London.

"I will send round a message and let him know that you will be calling on him," Mr. Brimley added.

It was quite late when I left the chemist's shop with Rupert. I went to the office on the Strand, hoping that I might find Brodie. However, Mr. Cavendish informed me that he had not returned.

I went up to the office, disappointed, as I was accustomed to sharing what I had learned with him in our inquiry cases. There was more to it, of course, when I was honest with myself and chose to examine my disappointment.

We had a somewhat unusual arrangement. Partners in the inquiry cases the past two years to be certain. But that was only part of it, most recently of course, with that little ceremony in the north of Scotland. Something I had most certainly never considered for myself.

The truth, when I was willing to admit it, was that I missed him. I missed our exchanges at the end of the day here at the office on the Strand. I missed the way there was usually a fire burning in the coal stove and possibly a bottle of Old Lodge with two glasses on his desk.

I had become accustomed to his habits, his challenges to my thoughts, even his grumbling and grousing over some matter. Not to mention the messiness atop his desk that I was constantly straightening, the way his hair curled over his collar for lack of a trim, and that way he had of looking at me over the edge of his glass.

Admittedly, there was often a frown, those dark eyes narrowed almost as if he was attempting to figure out what sort of species I was with my questions and comments. Then there were the other times when that frown and that dark gaze meant something far different.

In spite of my self-doubts, I had grown accustomed to Brodie. The office seemed empty without him when it had never seemed so before.

When in the bloody hell had that happened?

However, I knew. It had begun on the Isle of Crete…

Since he was not here— where the devil was he anyway?— there was obviously no point building a fire at the stove.

Instead, I turned on the electric light at the desk, then went to the chalkboard and entered the most recent notes in the Bennett inquiry case, along with a note— in the event that Brodie returned— that I would next be contacting Dr. Pennington at Oxford. Along with a mental reminder to inquire about a copy of Dr. Bennett's book.

It would undoubtedly be dry reading, medical procedures and all that, however it might provide some insight into the man.

Having made my notes I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was very near five o'clock in the evening, a reminder that I had promised Lily that we would attend Templeton's newest performance at Drury Lane in Covent Garden.

Curtain time was for eight o'clock. That gave me just enough time to return to Mayfair for a change of clothes, and perhaps an early supper with Lily.

I placed a call to Sussex Square. My sister eventually picked up the call. She was quite out of breath and laughing.

"Theater?" she echoed my invitation. "I would love to attend." And my earlier plans were suddenly changed.

"And our aunt as well. We will meet you there," she informed me. That was certainly quite different for my sister. She was inclined toward opera, the long, often boring, Italian sort. An evening at Drury Lane was most out of character for her.

It seemed that Mr. Warren would be joining us as well, which spoke volumes about what she insisted was a non-relationship. They were "merely friends" of course, though no one believed it for a moment considering her unexplained and frequent absences when not overseeing Lily's artistic endeavors.

Most interesting, I thought. It was also an opportunity to inquire if Mr. Warren might be able to acquire a copy of Dr. Bennett's book for me.

"That will give us sufficient time to clean ourselves of paint and dress," Linnie continued.

It seemed that she had spent the afternoon assisting Lily with different mediums of art— oil paintings and watercolors as well.

"The solar has excellent light however the windows are quite covered with paint."

I could only imagine how that might have happened.

"Lily really does have an amazing memory for things. She completely memorized all the prints in my old school portfolio and can readily describe the differences between Cézanne and Van Gogh and explain their techniques."

There was more of course, as there usually was when it came to my sister's passion for art.

"First curtain is at eight o'clock," I reminded her.

"Will Mr. Brodie be joining us, as well?" she asked.

I returned to Mayfair to prepare for the evening at the theater. There was still no word from Brodie. Aggravating man.

"Will Mr. Brodie be joining you for an early supper and the theater?" Mrs. Ryan inquired.

"He's off on some matter of business," I replied, with absolutely no idea what that was.

I thought this was no way to begin this new part of our relationship, him off on his own, myself left to my own devices— which was quite a revelation since I had never before cared a fig how a man, any man, might conduct himself. And the same for me as well as I was not of the habit of explaining myself to anyone.

Hmmm. Most interesting.

"Very well, I will serve supper for yourself, then." She turned toward the dining room and the adjacent kitchen.

"Not a way to start a marriage to my way of thinkin'."

Never let it be said that Mrs. Ryan was shy about expressing an opinion.

After an early supper, I dressed with only a couple of remarks from her.

I distracted her from further comments when I asked her to call for a cab. The truth was, I had no previous experience regarding marriage other than the examples set by my father— not the best example of a loving relationship. Then there was my sister's marriage that had ended badly. Wasn't there a man who honored that commitment?

That little voice told me there most certainly was, however, he was off chasing down some matter for Sir Avery. Of course. That had to be it. Then again, what if something had happened to him?

I frowned as I pushed back that thought. Brodie knew well enough how to take care of himself.

The evening at the theater was to be a family affair, or as close to family as the five of us— my sister, our great-aunt, myself, and now Lily might be.

It was Templeton's opening night, and our aunt was quite excited about it.

I had just arrived at the theater entrance separately and left the hired coach when I heard Lily call out. I wouldn't have recognized her if she hadn't run toward me quite excited in that way of hers since arriving in London.

She wore a long gown and someone— my sister undoubtedly— had fixed her hair, coiled and then anchored at the back of her head. Her eyes gleamed with excitement as she seized both my hands.

"I never seen anything like this!" she exclaimed. I braced myself for a list of things "she had never seen before." It was exciting to see things through her eyes.

"Look at all the ladies and gents," she continued on. "Everyone in their finest. The only time I ever seen such finery was the gents when they came to the Church for the evening."

"Church?" my aunt commented as she joined us.

There were a few things I had decided not to explain about Lily's background for now. The "Church" that had been converted into a brothel was one of those things.

And then true to her nature, our aunt was off on another topic.

"I've heard it's quite a holiday production, a musical, and not one of those boring pieces by Shakespeare. Templeton does seem to have a preference for those. I cannot imagine the reason."

If she only knew, I thought, and wondered what Mr. Shakespeare might have to say about this new production, and if he would put in an appearance— spiritually speaking of course— as he did have a way of popping in from time to time according to Templeton.

Lily's excited chatter continued on about the lights all about the entrance to the theater, the life-size playbill that featured an image of Templeton in full costume for the play. And then there was the statue in the foyer of the theater— the life-size statue of Mr. Shakespeare himself.

"Crivvens!" she exclaimed, a favorite word I had heard a great deal of lately. "What is that?"

"That is a statue of William Shakespeare, a very famous playwright," Linnie explained. "Templeton has performed in several of his plays."

"He looks like he has a complaint of the bowel." Lily commented.

I choked back laughter.

From what Templeton had shared in the past, Mr. Shakespeare was not fond of the statue either. I did hope he didn't take offense at Lily's observation.

"Good evening, Miss Forsythe and Miss Lenore."

I recognized that voice from our previous encounter at Hatchards book shop. As I turned, Sir James Redstone nodded in greeting.

"And Lady Montgomery. So very good to see you once again. It has been a while."

I caught the slight lift of one of my aunt's eyebrows. For her part, it seemed as if a dark cloud had settled over Lily considering the frown on her face.

"Sir James," my aunt greeted him. "It has been some time. Before your last journey to the Orient, as I remember, that has kept you away from London."

"There are many fascinating things to see and learn from other places. Wouldn't you agree, Miss Forsythe?" The comment obviously for me.

"That's Mrs. Brodie." Lily commented from under that dark cloud which brought a stern exclamation from my sister, however I found it most amusing.

"Lily has recently joined our family," Linnie went on to explain.

"Ah, a charity endeavor," Redstone concluded.

"I am grateful, if it's anythin' to ye," Lily bluntly replied.

I decided that it was time to intervene.

"Templeton asked that we call on her in her dressing room before the performance," I announced. "It is very near that time. We should be going."

"Perhaps you would like to join me in my box," I overheard Redstone say to my aunt.

It was very gracious of him, however, my aunt had a box at the theater next to the royal box out of deference to her family, history, and long-standing support of the theater.

"You must join us," she replied. "And you must tell me all about your latest travels. I am planning on going on safari the coming year. Have you been?"

And they were off to our aunt's theater box, including my sister. Lily hung back, that dark expression still on her face, and in spite of my resolve not to do so, I found myself telling her something I was once told.

"Your face will freeze like that."

She angled that dark blue gaze at me. "I dinnae like the man."

"You don't know him. He's quite well known and respected."

"I know others like him. I seen 'em at the ‘Church' and on the streets. They say one thing to yer face, then do another behind yer back. Madame always said, get the coin up front or ye won't get it at all."

Quite an observation for one so young.

"Her ladyship can take care of herself," I assured her.

"Like you, Mr. Brodie told me?"

I knew well enough where Templeton's dressing room was from previous performances at the theater, and informed the attendant as Lily and I made our way through a door that led to the backstage and dressing room area.

"Ye might want to be careful, miss," he cautioned, although he didn't indicate what the reason might be other than the usual moving around of props by backstage attendants and the usual bustle of performers before the play began.

However, I didn't have long to wonder at his comment as we traversed the area at the back of the stage and I heard a faint swishing sound amid other sounds one usually found behind the scenes.

I laid a hand on Lily's arm as we neared Templeton's dressing room. I heard it again, louder and very distinct. I knew that sound along with the curse from a stagehand that usually followed.

"Crivvens!" Lily exclaimed. "A dragon!"

I had the same thought, as I stepped in front of her and the "dragon." More precisely, Ziggy. However, she was not the least bit frightened, merely curious.

"He's an iguana," I replied. "From South America. He's a pet and quite harmless," I explained, and it appeared to have returned from the London Zoo where he had been residing the past several months.

As I said, she wasn't the least bit frightened.

"Wot's he doing here?" Lily asked.

"He's an escape artist," Templeton explained, as she attempted to guide Ziggy in the direction of her dressing room. No mean feat as he looked at her with beady eyes and hissed. He obviously was not of the same opinion about returning there.

My friend was dressed for her performance, complete with makeup, and a sprig of holly adorning her hair.

I wasn't certain if Lily had ever been to the theater. This evening apparently was going to be full of new experiences, Ziggy included.

Lily had emerged from behind me and approached Ziggy as if he was someone's pet dog.

"Wot does he eat?"

"Plants for the most part," Templeton replied. "He's particularly fond of roses."

And there were at least a dozen more questions.

"And you are?" Templeton then asked.

However, before introductions were made, "Oh my!" my friend exclaimed. "I'm getting something…" Her fingers were pressed against her temple in a way I had seen before.

"You are quite gifted, my dear," she told Lily. She smiled. "Wills says that you have an incredible memory for things. Oh, and the dead rat you put in a particular gentleman's coat pocket was most effective."

I looked at Lily. A dead rat?

"He deserved it," she explained as she patted Ziggy on the head. As I said, much like a pet dog.

"He tried to put his hands up my skirt at the place Madame set up shop until she could find a more proper place after the Church burned down. I used the knife on him wot Munro gave me before ye left Old Town. He said it could be useful."

Indeed.

"The man was a rat. And I found one in the kitchen at the place Madame rented. So I thought to send him a message next time he came round to visit one of the ladies."

"Oh, my," Templeton exclaimed. "It seems you're quite the adventuress." She wrapped an arm around Lily's shoulders.

"It is so very good to meet you," she told Lily with an amused glance at me.

She handed the roses to Lily. "Hold this in front of Ziggy. As I said he's particularly partial to roses. Poor thing. He had lost a great deal of his color whilst at the zoo, and had become quite lonely," she said, then led the way back to her dressing room.

Lily and Ziggy followed.

Adventuress, I thought? And what was that about an incredible memory?

To say that Lily was fascinated with Ziggy and Templeton was another one of those understatements. He looked much the same as I remembered. As for being lonely, I did wonder how one might know.

Did an iguana sit over in a corner with a sad expression, perhaps refusing to eat?

"And where is Mr. Brodie?" Templeton inquired as Elvira Finch put the finishing touches to her makeup.

At present Ziggy was laying at Lily's feet, quite content after consuming a full bouquet of roses.

"He's making inquiries in a new case," I explained since the inquiries on Sir Avery's behalf were usually of a most secretive nature.

"And…?" she added with a glance at my reflection in the mirror before her. She looked quite festive.

"I've been pursuing a separate matter for a client."

"And…?" she repeated. "What of your new arrangement with Mr. Brodie?"

It could hardly be said that Brodie and I had a conventional relationship. The truth was, I thought with faint irritation, that I didn't have a clue what our relationship was supposed to be now.

It wasn't as if I was home cooking and cleaning and waiting supper for him to return for the evening. I didn't even know where our home was, between the room adjacent to the office and my townhouse in Mayfair.

I finally replied, "He's quite busy, and I have an inquiry case as well."

I caught the look she gave me. I did hope she wasn't receiving a message from Wills in the matter. Her ability to communicate with the man was going to be difficult enough to explain to Lily as it was.

There was a knock on her dressing room door and an attendant popped his head inside and announced that it was very near curtain call time.

"Wot about Ziggy?" Lily asked.

Ziggy was at present apparently quite content, eyes closed, sprawled in front of Lily.

"He'll be all right," Templeton replied. "I have to keep him in the dressing room. He has a habit of wanting to join the production. It can cause quite a stir among the other actors and patrons."

An understatement to be certain. Ziggy's previous foray about the theater during a play had caused an uproar that had managed to empty the place.

Lily thoroughly enjoyed the play with unbridled enthusiasm, often leaning out over the balustrade of my aunt's box for a better view. Much of course, to Sir James Redstone's obvious disapproval.

She couldn't have cared less, and I was in complete agreement.

The play was a complete success and Templeton invited us to join her for a late supper at the Savoy afterward.

Sir James accepted. He had been most attentive to my aunt throughout the evening. She laughed and flirted a bit, something surprising as she was not usually given to such things. However, I supposed at her age, she was allowed to do just about anything. I declined the invitation, much to my sister's disappointment.

"The recent changes at the Savoy are said to be quite spectacular," she said in an effort to persuade me to attend.

"Everyone has been talking about how difficult it is to get a table. You must go."

I must not, I thought. I wasn't impressed by elaborate dining rooms or exclusive table reservations. I would much rather have shared a late supper with Brodie at the Strand. And then, of course, a dram afterward.

That surprised me and I wondered when that had happened.

"I don't want to go," Lily whispered to me. "I don't like him."

Since Sir James was the only male present, it seemed obvious who she was referring to.

"You don't know him," I pointed out.

"I know others like him," she replied. "They put on fine clothes and speak fancy words. But underneath all the finery that's not who they really are. I seen a lot of that."

I supposed that came from the past several years working in a brothel in Edinburgh. We had both seen a great deal in our escape the night of the fire.

She looked up at me. "I want to go with ye."

I had planned to return to the office once more after the theater, in the event that Brodie might have returned. There was certainly no reason that she couldn't accompany me there on our way to Mayfair. I congratulated Templeton on a splendid opening night and we departed.

Outside the theater, Drury Lane and the adjacent streets were jammed with coaches, those who had attended the play, and late evening street vendors that also included a young man selling ice cream from a cart.

"I ain't never… I never had such," Lily corrected herself. "The best we ever had at Madame's was pudding if it was left over once the gents left the morning after their visit."

She did have a colorful way of describing things. The vendor was quite obviously Italian by his accent and his compliments to Lily.

"Bellissima," he praised her as he handed her frozen raspberry ice cream in a wafer cup.

Her eyes were like two saucers on her face. It was worth two pennies to see the reaction.

"Crivvens!" she exclaimed. "This is better than day old pudding."

I certainly agreed with her as I ordered one as well, and we walked about the lane with bright lights and ice cream, Lily chattering on about the play, Templeton, and Ziggy.

It had been quite an evening for her, and a bit of an adventure for me as well.

Late as it was, we found a cab, and Lily returned with me to Mayfair after stopping briefly at the office. She was still chattering about the play when Mrs. Ryan met us at the door.

"Are there any messages?" I asked as I removed my coat and hat.

There weren't any.

The only other time there was no contact from Brodie, he had taken himself off to Edinburgh. At the time, I had been prepared for it to be several days or more considering the reason.

I was to go to Oxford the next day and meet with Dr. Pennington. Granted, Brodie would have found Oxford, with thirty schools spread across the entire campus, to be tedious in the least.

I would carry on, on behalf of Mrs. Bennett, on my own as I had the last several days.

I did hope that Dr. Pennington might be able to provide some insight into Dr. Bennett's habits, and where he might have taken himself off to.

I followed Lily into the parlor where Mrs. Ryan had a fire going upon the hearth. She was finally winding down much like a top that had spun itself out, as my aunt had once said of me.

Mrs. Ryan provided hot cocoa; another wondrous thing Lily knew about but had never experienced.

"Ice cream and hot chocolate all in one evening?" Mrs. Ryan commented as I poured a bit of Old Lodge whisky.

"You'll spoil the child."

I smiled. "I certainly hope so."

Two cups of hot cocoa and the "child" was quite drowsy. I accompanied her upstairs to the guest bedroom.

"Thank ye kindly, miss," she said around a yawn. "I ain't never had nothin' like tonight."

We hadn't quite worked out what she was supposed to call me. Mother seemed inappropriate since I was very definitely not her mother. Miss Forsythe was too formal as if the arrangement was only temporary. And I didn't care for Lady Forsythe. Again, it was far too formal and seemed to emphasize where I came from even though I had never cared a fig about titles… and had a way of putting distance between people as I knew only too well.

She slipped out of the gown, then unknotted her hair in front of the dressing table mirror. I caught the gesture as she ran her fingers over the brush that lay atop the dresser.

"I ain't never had such fine things, miss— the clothes, this room, and this." She ran her fingers across the soft bristles. "'Course there are the lessons, art, and music that Miss Lenore says every proper young girl should have."

That did sound like my sister.

I picked the brush up and ran it through her hair, gently removing the twists and coils.

An old memory— which I rarely allowed— suddenly came back to me.

Our mother had died when Linnie and I were very young. After we went to live at Sussex Square there were maids and other servants, and most certainly our great-aunt to see to our needs. And there had been great affection as well.

Tonight I had taken on the part that our mother might have shared with us… brushing our hair, telling us stories, taking us for ice cream in a wafer cup after a play.

We hadn't had that. I pushed the memory back where it belonged, in the past.

"Miss?"

I hadn't realized that I had stopped brushing her hair. I caught Lily's reflection in the mirror above the dressing table.

"I've been thinking," I told her.

Brodie would certainly have made a comment at that, or perhaps narrowed that dark gaze as he was quite familiar with such words when I had an idea that I wanted to share.

"I have a name. It's quite all right for you to use it. Now, off with you to bed. It's very late."

"Good night, miss…" she said sleepily from under the down comforter, then before drifting off, "Mikaela. It was a right splendid day, weren't it?" There was a yawn that followed.

"Yes, it was."

The only thing missing in all of this was Brodie.