Chapter 12

Most of thestreetlamps across the city had been lit by the time Mr. Hastings turned back toward Sussex Square.

I had the list of the additional pieces of the train set that had been purchased by Adelaide Matthews, and could only assume that she had bought the pieces for Ellie Sutton's son—her grandson. Yet, Ellie and the boy had lived in Charing Cross, a part of London populated by lower-class working families. And nothing that I had seen in that brief visit to the flat hinted at any contact she had from the Matthews family. Except for that toy locomotive.

She'd been afraid of someone. If she had reached out for help to anyone other than Brodie, I would have expected it to be the boy's grandparents. Then she had been brutally murdered.

It was a sad and confusing situation that made no sense, as Mr. Hastings wound his way through the streets. He did so with the expertise of one who had done this many times, thereby shortening the journey that could easily have taken the better part of an hour.

I thought again of the motor carriage and wondered if the journey would have been any quicker. Lily was most entertaining with her questions about the kaleidoscope.

How did it work? How did they get all those colors and shapes into the tube? Unfortunately, I lacked an inventor's explanation about light refraction, though I was certain Mr. Brimley would have been able to explain.

"I never had such a thing before," she exclaimed, and thanked me for what had to be the dozenth time as we wound our way through the streets of London. I couldn't help but feel sadness for her. For all intents and purposes, as far as anyone knew, she'd had no childhood.

Not unlike Brodie, forced to fend for himself on the streets of London, doing God knows what, to survive.

I knew bits and pieces that he had shared with me, yet I was not na?ve. There was undoubtedly a great part more of it that he had not shared.

I was certain that explained his support of my decision to take Lily as my ward—someone who had no family, no future, except perhaps as a housemaid, or worse, as I had seen at the ‘Church' in Edinburgh.

And what now of Ellie Sutton's son?

His situation seemed very different. The Matthews family was considered quite affluent with the Argosy Company interests in shipping.

In my search of the articles I had found regarding that previous murder case, apparently Stephen Matthew had been the only child. No others were mentioned. Surely the Matthews would want to provide for their grandchild...

The coach swung into the drive at Sussex Square and then abruptly stopped.

"Look at all the lights in the manor," Lily said as she leaned out the window. "Is her ladyship having a celebration?"

Not that I was aware of, and if she was, everyone would have been made aware. She did love a party. I leaned out the other window.

"Mr. Hastings?" I called out.

"The gates are closed, miss. And the way blocked."

Closed? The gates were never closed, particularly when someone was out and about. It was then that the coach door was pulled open and a face loomed through the shadows of the thin light from the lanterns on the coach—a face with a policeman's hat atop his head.

Rupert lunged. It took some effort, but Lily was able to restrain him. The officer reared back from the door opening, and I did wonder by the look on his face if he might be the same one Rupert had encountered at the town house. There did seem to be a strong dislike.

"Is there something wrong?" I asked.

"Not at all, miss. Official business, we have orders to check everyone arriving."

"For what reason?" I demanded.

"The Chief Inspector can provide that information, miss."

Abberline!

I looked to the manor, well lit, all about the front and down that long driveway. Several feelings rose at once, not the least was anger that Abberline had taken it upon himself to come here.

Had something happened? Had Brodie been found and arrested? Or was it something else?

Brodie had mentioned that Abberline would try to find him through me. That was not going to happen, nor was I going to be intimidated or allow anyone to intimidate my great-aunt.

"I am Lady Montgomery's niece and this is my ward. Unless you have ambitions to be collecting garbage on the streets—I assure you that can be arranged—you will let us pass now."

He nodded and immediately stepped back from the coach then called to another constable positioned at the gate. At a signal, the gates were opened and we were allowed to proceed.

As we passed by one of the lamp posts along the driveway, I caught the expression on Lily's face. Her eyes were as large as saucers, and she grinned.

"I thought for a minute that ye might take that revolver ye carry and shoot him."

I didn't tell her that for just a minute I had considered it. If he thought a dog bite might be painful...

Of course, there is no doubt that would have immediately sent me to jail.

My first instinct as the coach drew to a stop before the steps to the manor was to find my aunt. At eighty-six years of age, she had outlived a great many people. She was for the most part hale and hearty, and was planning to depart for safari the following month.

However...

I raced up the steps with Lily and the hound behind me, and encountered Mr. Symons at the entrance.

"Miss Forsythe," he greeted me in a quiet tone.

"My aunt?"

"Oh, quite all right. And yourself?"

I was better now.

"We do have guests," he continued with a glance toward to the front parlor.

"Yes, I encountered two at the gates."

"A word of caution, miss?"

I nodded. "Noted, Mr. Symons," I replied as Mrs. Ryan appeared.

"Mr. Abberline arrived some time ago," she informed me. Her eyes narrowed and lips thinned with disapproval, no doubt remembering his lack of interest when her daughter, Mary, had gone missing and was then found murdered.

"He has taken it upon himself to question her ladyship quite thoroughly."

"How is she doing?" I asked as I heard some of the conversation from the parlor—Abberline's insistence.

And my aunt's calm response.

"I have no idea what you are speaking of, Mr. Abberline. As I have said, my niece is here to visit as she frequently does. I know nothing about this other business."

Mrs. Ryan smiled. "She has him talking in circles. He is here to speak with you as well. The man is most abominable—a word of warning."

Not that I was not aware of that. I glanced at Lily, who stood nearby along with the hound.

"Lily might do with a bit of supper," I told her.

"I ain't hungry..." she started to protest.

"We shall remedy that," Mrs. Ryan assured me. "And the hound? A bit of Mr. Abberline's trousers, perhaps?"

"Something for the hound as well, other than that," I replied, then asked, "Is Mr. Munro about?"

"He is with her ladyship and Mr. Abberline. To make certain the Chief Inspector doesn't overstep himself."

Lily protested again about being sent off. I convinced her that she was needed to make certain Rupert didn't attack one of my aunt's ‘guests.'

"I'll go along," she finally replied. "But I've had experience with the constables when they used to come round the house in Edinburgh."

I could only imagine, still I thanked her for her care of Rupert. When they were off to the kitchens with Mrs. Ryan, I turned toward the front parlor.

My aunt was seated in her usual chair. She wore a satin gown in a deep shade of blue that I had seen when she hosted her annual Christmas party attended by the Prince of Wales, his wife, and other titled acquaintances this past season.

Her ensemble included an enormous number of jewels on her wrists, fingers, and about her neck that were almost obscene, along with the wooden staff she held before her. An heirloom, set with the blue sapphire the size of a goose egg from that original ancestor from France—William the Conqueror, according to family legend.

She looked as if she was holding court, and meant to put Abberline in his place. Never let it be said that Lady Antonia Montgomery didn't have her moments.

Munro stood beside her chair, dressed in his usual black trousers and short coat, arms folded behind his back. He looked very much the part of the dutiful servant. However, I knew better, as I glimpsed the faint outline of something tucked beneath his coat, the dutiful expression on his face failing to disguise that sharp blue gaze.

I smothered back a smile and replaced it with an expression of mock surprise as my aunt greeted me.

"Here you are, my dear," my aunt exclaimed. "I do hope your appointment at the dressmaker's was successful." And then almost as an afterthought, "We have visitors."

"Yes, quite successful," I replied, keeping with her ruse as I crossed the parlor and kissed her cheek.

She gestured to the Chief Inspector and the constable that stood apart before the hearth in the fireplace.

"Do forgive me, I have forgotten your name. The afflictions of age, you see," she made the excuse, efficiently putting the Chief Inspector in his place.

Age, my foot, I thought as I watched a performance that would have rivaled any that Templeton would have performed on the stage. Not that it was a total surprise.

This was a woman who had stared down a half-dozen suitors, a list of foreign diplomats, and a king or two over a lifetime with that cool smile and even cooler gaze.

"Chief Inspector Abberline, your ladyship," he replied through tight lips.

"Oh, yes, of course," my aunt replied with another dismissive wave of her hand. "He has questions about something or another…" she added in that same vague manner that she performed so well.

Abberline stood now and turned to me in acknowledgment. "Good evening, Miss Forsythe. I do have questions, in the matter of a recent inquiry case that you and Mr. Brodie have undertaken."

I calmly met that beady, weasel-like gaze and half expected his nose to twitch. I was reminded that weasels are clever, persistent, and could be dangerous.

"It is of great importance to the Metropolitan Police," he continued.

Did weasels chatter much like a squirrel, I thought? Definitely a squeaky, chirping sound…

"There has been a murder, and it would seem that Mr. Brodie may be involved," he then explained. "In the matter of the death of a young woman."

A young woman of little means who would not have mattered in the past, I thought. Not unlike Mrs. Ryan's daughter, Mary, in that first inquiry case. But this was far more important, and there was only one reason—Brodie.

The Chief Inspector was determined to connect him to the murder, hence the warrant that now had Brodie in hiding. A means for having the revenge over that old case that had denied his advancement?

Weasel indeed. And he no doubt took me for some featherbrained fool who could be intimidated.

Not likely, I thought. When dealing with a weasel it was necessary to respond appropriately.

"Someone has died?" I replied with mock surprise. "How very dreadful. That would seem somewhat extreme over the matter." I added with no small amount of sarcasm. "Although I suppose there are some who will go to all lengths to prevent being discovered."

"You misunderstand," he replied with a twitch of irritation at his cheek. "It is the murder we are investigating."

I smiled again. "Sir Avery mentioned nothing about a murder," I added.

"Sir Avery?" he frowned.

"You asked about the case we are investigating," I reminded him. "The matter of a case that he has asked us to investigate."

"You know very well what I am referring to, Miss Forsythe."

Was he going to mention that I had been followed and then watched at the town house? Another smile, although I was rapidly running out of them.

"I am certain you understand that I am not at liberty to discuss the case. That information would have to be authorized by Sir Avery of the Special Services as it is of a serious issue for the Crown."

"Miss Forsythe, I must insist you cooperate!"

I wasn't certain if it was his threatening tone or the fact that the Chief Inspector took a step toward me. There was a sudden distinct growl from the entrance to the parlor. It seemed that the hound had returned.

"Sir?" the constable standing behind him cautioned.

The man's color had faded noticeably. Was it possible that he had a wound on his leg?

"I repeat that I must insist that you tell me everything you know about the murder of Ellie Sutton!" Abberline repeated.

There was no need to look down, as I detected the faint aroma that accompanied the hound, now standing at my side. I rested my hand on his head.

"Our case is confidential," I repeated. "Sir Avery would have to approve any information that I divulge."

The possibility of apoplexy was most fascinating as Abberline's face flushed with color. A vein stood out on his forehead and threatened to pop, and his cheek twitched repeatedly.

"You are reminded, Miss Forsythe…!"

This, said with raised hand, immediately brought another snarl from the hound and cut off the rest of Abberline's words.

"You must forgive Rupert," my aunt interjected. "He is most protective of my niece. It is in the blood you know. These animals have been protecting royalty since the Middle Ages."

She was off on another tale of her own and most serious. "The breed is quite ancient, you know, used for...hunting by my ancestors. Rupert won the award as best hound at Crufts the past year, over the hound presented by the Prince of Wales. His Highness is quite the admirer."

Abberline's face drained several shades. "I see. And your memory seems quite lacking, Miss Forsythe. A malady that it is hoped will soon pass."

His meaning was clear. It was also quite clear that my aunt had managed to bring the questioning to an end.

"There is more that I will learn in this matter, I assure you," he then said in parting. "And to make certain that your household is well protected," he added, turning to my aunt. "I will see that my men are positioned at the gate if anyone should attempt to enter."

"So good of you," Aunt Antonia replied as she rose from her chair and tapped her staff with authority.

"Mr. Munro will show you out. Good evening, Mr. Abberline."

The Chief Inspector turned to Mr. Hughes and nodded. They both passed by in the company of Munro on their way to the front entrance. Mr. Hughes walked a wide path around the hound.

I let out the breath I had been holding as Munro returned.

"Good job, Mr. Munro," my aunt announced. "For a moment I was afraid that you might send the man out in another manner."

Munro and I exchanged a look. I knew quite well he could have done precisely that.

"Crufts dog show?" I commented of the tale she had told Abberline.

"I'm certain that he would do quite well," my aunt replied. "You must consider it for next year."

I looked down at Rupert and wondered if there were points deducted for the aroma of the dog. He would most certainly take first prize for skill in protection.

"With that, I am retiring for the night," she announced. "Please have the servants put out the lights, and do be careful, my dear."

"The beast doesna care for the Chief Inspector," Munro commented.

"He is not the only one," I replied, stroking the hound's ears.

"The man will not be satisfied until he has Brodie in prison," Munro added when my aunt had gone, tap, tapping her way to the lift with her staff.

"He must be warned about Abberline's visit," I replied.

"I'll see to it."

"You know where he is?" I asked. The answer came as he opened the front of his coat and took out the revolver I was certain I had seen there.

"I need to know what he's learned about the murder. I'm going with you," I replied.

"Yer going to warn Mr. Brodie?"

I looked up, Lily standing at the entrance to the parlor.

"I don't like that man, the one wot was here. I can help."

"No!" Quite adamant, the meaning clear, as Munro strode purposefully past me to the hallway.

"I can!" she insisted, her blue eyes snapping with fire. "Mr. Brodie is not a criminal!"

It was one thing for me to go with Munro to a destination unknown. And it wasn't as if Lily hadn't encountered the unsavory side of the streets before, but there was something inside me that simply couldn't allow that. Possibly some protective instinct...

"My aunt is quite elderly," I pointed out. "She often thinks that she is much stronger than she is. At her age…"

"What about the safari?"

"Going about on safari is quite leisurely, and will be restful for her," I lied. It seemed that I was accumulating several of those. "Still, this business can be most distressing, and I would not want to risk any harm coming to her." I continued.

Lily's blue eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"I need you to stay here, should the Chief Inspector return. You have become quite skilled with the rapier," I reminded her. "It would be your responsibility to make certain that she is not harmed."

"I canna see anyone harmin' her."

I would have placed a bet on my great-aunt over anyone as well. After all, she was descended from William the Conqueror. And there was a houseful of servants.

"I need your promise that you will see that she is well protected."

"All right," she grumbled, a sound not unlike the hound. "But only because she has been good to me."

Victory. A small one, but I would take it.

I went to find Munro as Lily went to the lift, no doubt on her way to the Sword Room. I almost wished that Abberline would return.

I was not inclined to have Lily imprisoned for assaulting the Chief Inspector.

Still, it would have been most enjoyable to watch.

I found Munro coming out of his room adjacent to the servants' quarters. He had changed his trousers and coat for clothes I might see on the streets of the East End with a cap pulled low over that sharp gaze.

"I am going with you," I insisted.

"He would not want it," he replied with that strong Gaelic accent that reminded me of Brodie. "Where I have to go, I canna be seen with a woman."

"Nevertheless," I replied.

And something else that reminded me of Brodie, a curse in Gaelic.

"I have heard that before," I commented. "I have information for him that is important. He would want to know."

He did not attempt to leave without me, however, there was another curse.

I found the clothes I'd arrived in the night before. They had been cleaned as best as possible, no doubt by my aunt's servants.

I quickly dressed in the trousers, shirt, and jacket, then pulled on my boots, grabbed the carpet bag and tucked it beneath my arm. I returned to the kitchen where Munro waited.

"Ye think that will keep others from knowin' there is a woman under yer clothes?" he snapped.

I did wonder how Templeton had ever gotten on with him. Yet, there had been the proof in that mural painted above the headboard of her bed…

"It has worked before," I pointed out, then asked, "How do you propose to get past the police at the front gate?"

"That is what the Chief Inspector would expect," he replied.