Chapter Fourteen

Rory

Edinburgh— Wednesday 8th August 1877

W e simply can't be doing this!

Talk about an understatement! But by the sun and the stars, I wanted to. It took me all my willpower to let her go and to get to my feet, pulling on my gloves, as if they would somehow keep me safe. ‘I'm sorry,' I said, my voice sounding as shaky as I felt. ‘I truly didn't mean that to happen. I can't be letting that happen again.'

Marianne looked as flustered as I'd ever seen her, which was no consolation whatsoever. Her cheeks were flushed. There was a look in her eyes that told me she was as carried away as I had been, and as taken aback. Heaven help me, what I wanted to do was put my arms around her and kiss her and forget all about all the very, very good reasons why that was impossible. ‘I'm sorry.'

I could see her visibly changing, pulling herself together, as she put her gloves back on. ‘There is no need to apologise. It is not as if you forced yourself on me.'

‘I would never...'

‘I am aware of that.'

She stood up, shaking out her skirts. She was wearing the green dress again. The colour suited her. This was hardly the time for telling her so.

‘All the same,' I said, because I couldn't get over how far I'd strayed from my own rules, ‘I didn't mean to...'

‘Nor did I, but I did!' She drew a breath, then continued in a softer voice. ‘Forget what happened just now, it doesn't matter. I mean it's not relevant to why—to what I was trying to say.'

‘You've lost me. No, wait. You mean when you said we were meant to meet?'

‘Yes.'

We had met because I was looking for her. I couldn't say that, and even if I could have, it wouldn't have been completely true. I deal in facts, but I couldn't deny I had an inkling of what she was talking about. ‘I felt it too, I'll admit, but I'm not sure where this conversation is going, Marianne.'

She wrinkled her nose and furrowed her brow. It made me want to kiss her, so I took a couple of steps away from temptation to look at the inscription on one of the nearby gravestones. Here lies the mortal remains of... The date was 1752. It was adorned with a skull and cross bones.

‘They were more honest, back then,' Marianne said, joining me. ‘Not a weeping angel or a grieving cherub in sight.'

‘My thoughts exactly.'

‘Really?'

She raised her brow. Just the one. I wished she wouldn't do that, I found it ridiculously alluring.

‘What are you planning on doing for the next two weeks, Rory, while your other case is in limbo? Will you remain in Edinburgh?'

‘Where else would I go?' I asked, taken aback.

‘I don't know, but since Edinburgh is dangerous...'

‘No, no. I've no plans to go anywhere.' I was under orders to stay put. Then I remembered this morning, and Billy Sinclair's suggestion that I get out of town. ‘I've been thinking about my old case.'

‘Have you?' Marianne gazed at me, wide-eyed.

‘I have, but I didn't mean that I was thinking of doing anything about it.'

‘But don't you think that might be it? The reason we—that fate—no, I don't believe in fate—but don't you think all the same, that's why we met? I knew that you have not been able to forget about it, you as much as told me so on Sunday. And now you have two weeks, and I have two weeks. It is beginning to make sense.'

She smiled at me, one of those rare real smiles, the ones that reached her eyes, and her eyes were hazel that evening in the burial ground, and I wanted to kiss her again.

‘Shall we walk?' I said, suiting action to words, and thinking fast. She was right, in a way. Ever since I'd come back to this city, that old scar had been itching. Even before, I'd made the connection between the unclaimed victim in that case and the victim in my current case walking beside me. Two lost women, only this one, thank the sun and the stars, was alive and kicking and very much determined she wasn't a victim. What a woman! I really admired her. Among other things.

We had come right round to the part of the graveyard that fronts the church itself. There was a bench, just on the other side of the door, and so I headed for it. If I did pick up the old case again, I could kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. Have one last go at finally finding out what had happened all those years ago, and at the same time, I could do what I'd been told to do, and keep an eye on Marianne. Which was also what I wanted to do, very much. Which rang a warning bell. Faintly, mind.

‘Funnily enough,' I told her, as we sat down, ‘I didn't take kindly to having Billy Sinclair warn me off this morning.'

‘I gathered that.'

‘Did you, now? And here was I thinking myself a man of mystery to you.'

She laughed faintly, frowning at the same time. ‘You are, most of the time.'

‘Not always though, clearly. You're very good at reading people, you'd make a good detective.'

‘So you think I could help you, then?'

‘Hang on, I didn't say...'

‘But it's what you want, isn't it?'

I sighed. ‘It wasn't my intention when I came here, but being back in this city made me realise how much grief that old case is still giving me. I thought I'd put it behind me. I don't think I have.' I hadn't meant to say that, but the relief of it! It shook me, I mean really shook me.

Marianne touched my hand. Glove on glove, and just for a second, not long enough for it to mean anything more than a bit of comfort, and it was. ‘I want justice for her,' I said. ‘The woman who was murdered. And for me, if I'm honest. Maybe justice isn't the right word. I want to find out what happened, I want to know why.'

‘It's the not understanding that's the worst, isn't it? Why me? What did I do to deserve this? And not being able to do anything about it. I know what that's like, Rory, I really do.'

I knew what she was referring to.

Why me! What did I do to deserve this!

My heart went out to her, and I couldn't say a word to let her know I understood. It wasn't only that I was under orders to keep my mouth shut for the time being, I knew, though I didn't like to admit it, that the Marquess was right. Better a whole story to tell her than half a tale. It touched me though, deeply, that she'd said that much. She understood. That touched me too. ‘Thing is, Marianne, I'm not sure that I'd be able to get any further than before.'

‘But if you don't try—though perhaps I shouldn't be encouraging you? How dangerous would it be, Rory?'

I tried to ask myself that, honestly. The problem was, I still had no idea who was behind what had happened all those years ago, who it was I'd be upsetting if I did resume my investigations.

‘It's undoubtedly a risk,' I said, which was not a lie. ‘And seven years is plenty of time for a trail to go cold. The dead body wasn't reported in the papers. All the stuff that they printed about me, that was all a smoke screen invented by someone. None if it had anything to do with what I was actually investigating.'

‘You were wronged,' Marianne said, putting her hand on my arm again. ‘For seven years, you've wondered why. You have the opportunity to put your mind at rest, Rory. Why wouldn't you take it?'

Her words went straight to my heart, for they were so obviously spoken from hers. She had also been wronged, and she didn't know why but she would, soon, she'd know that and so much more. My hand had wrapped itself around hers of its own accord. Our eyes were locked on each other. There was a stillness between us, as if we were scared to move. ‘Marianne.' I said her name so softly, just because I wanted to say it.

‘Rory,' she said.

Our lips touched. I hadn't meant them to. I hadn't meant to kiss her. I knew I shouldn't kiss her, but our lips touched, and she sighed into me when they did, and I felt my breath leaving me in a whoosh. A butterfly kiss. It took all my resolve to pull back. It was nothing, I told myself, though it wasn't.

‘I can help you,' Marianne said. ‘I don't know exactly how, but at least I'm a fresh pair of eyes and you've admitted yourself that I'm intuitive.' Our hands were still entwined. Our lips were still only a few inches from each other. ‘Please, Rory. I'd like to—I want to.'

Two weeks, with the perfect excuse to be in each other's company. The Marquess might even approve. I couldn't have cared less about the Marquess at that moment. Two weeks with Marianne. The alarm bell sounded again, slightly more loudly this time. Was I playing with fire? But it was only two weeks. Two weeks to finally find out why someone had tried to destroy me. Marianne was right, that was the crux of it. And at the end of two weeks, she'd find out why someone had tried to destroy her. And who he was.

‘You'll do it,' she said, though I'd said nothing. ‘And you'll let me help you?'

I nodded slowly. ‘But I'm not taking any risks, not with regard to your safety, do you understand?'

‘Yes, yes.'

‘No, I mean it. If I tell you something's dangerous. If I tell you not to do something. Or not to talk to someone. If I tell you that it's not safe to stay involved, you listen and then do as you're told. Do you hear me?'

She opened her mouth to protest, no doubt to tell me she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, but she met my eyes and thought the better of it. ‘Why don't you start by telling me what happened, all those years ago?' she said.

So that's what I did. ‘It began when a woman's body turned up in the docks at Leith,' I said. And that's how we decided to return to the scene of the crime the next day.