Chapter 15 #2
“I don’t know. Possibly. And if he doesn’t, he will very soon.”
“Do you mean … you’re going to tell him?” He had surprised me again.
Mr. Dorian took a sip of tea and nodded. “No sense in keeping this from him.”
“Thank you,” I murmured. Given their strained relationship, Inspector Dorian would likely not appreciate learning that his brother had been poking around his case, no matter what information he had uncovered. And I suspected this would lead to a quarrel.
“We all want justice to be served,” Mr. Dorian said with a shrug.
He then reached for the last scone, but I batted his hand away.
He gave me an incredulous look. “What on earth was that for?” I gestured to the window, where a young girl in very worn clothing stood on the pavement staring wistfully up at the tearoom’s sign.
Mr. Dorian let out a mock sigh. “Fine. But you know it will do little good.”
“Perhaps. But it’s better than doing nothing.”
“Shall I pay the bill, then?” he added, already getting up.
I watched as he walked over to the counter and began to chat up the girl who had served us.
He said something to make her laugh, and she blushed fiercely.
Yet, I couldn’t bring myself to feel annoyed.
Not when he was about to risk invoking his brother’s ire on my account, or rather my sister’s.
The thought brought a smile to my lips, and even when he glanced back, I didn’t try to hide it.
The moment seemed to stretch between us as we stared at one another until the girl handed him some change.
Then it was over. Mr. Dorian turned back to her, though he seemed reluctant to do so, and I began to gather my things. It was time to get back to work.
Once we exited the tearoom, I gave the girl the scone along with all the coins I had in my change purse. Her face lit up as if I had presented her with the crown jewels, and my heart ached all the more, as she couldn’t have been much older than Tommy.
“Oh, thank you,” she said profusely. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Do you have any parents?” I asked.
“Only my Mam, but she is ill and missed work, so her pay was short this week.” The girl hesitated. “I’ve been giving most of my food to my two younger brothers. It’s harder for them to feel hungry.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that,” I said. “You sound like a good older sister.”
Her dark eyes brightened, and she stood a little straighter. “Thank you.”
Then I turned to Mr. Dorian, who scowled but dug into his pockets. “Here,” he barked, shoving what looked like several bank notes at the girl.
Her eyebrows rose, and she took the money in a daze. “Thank you, sir.”
Then he took my elbow. “Come along,” he said gruffly and pulled me away. “Christ, that was like something out of Dickens.”
I was incredulous. “You think she was lying?”
“I wouldn’t have given her money if I did,” he replied archly, but I could tell that he was as rattled by the girl’s story as I had been. He just hid it behind a veneer of sarcasm.
“I know poverty touches so many people in this city,” I began. “But it is harder to ignore the children.”
Mr. Dorian was quiet as he ushered me towards his carriage. “I am very familiar with the plight of the wretched, Mrs. Harper,” he finally said.
There was a certainty in his words. A kind of knowingness that I felt sure could only come from firsthand experience.
I stared at his profile as curiosity warred with concern.
Mr. Dorian had shared little about his background.
I knew he had lost his mother at a young age, and though his father had once been named chief detective inspector, he had succumbed to drink.
How old had Mr. Dorian been when this happened?
What sacrifices had he been forced to make to support his brother?
“I—”
But he cut me off as we reached his carriage. “Here,” he said brusquely, “let me take you home.”
Though a part of me wanted the opportunity to pursue this line of inquiry, I was heading to Portman Square, and the very last thing I needed was for someone to spot us together.
“That is kind of you, but I’d prefer to take a cab.”
He raised his brows in surprise, as no one could possibly prefer a cab to his carriage, but he hailed one anyway without pressing me further. Perhaps he knew I was curious and did not want to spend the ride avoiding my questions.
“Well, it’s been a pleasure as always, Mrs. Harper,” he said drolly as he handed me into the conveyance. “I will see you at the funeral on Friday.”
Then he shut the door before I could respond, and flashed me a devious little grin as the cab pulled into traffic. I let out a huff of irritation, but as I was alone, it did not have quite the desired effect.
As the cab made the slow trek through Soho, I recalled everything I had learned.
While I agreed with Mr. Dorian that it was worth tracking down the mysterious Mrs. Pearson, I still thought this private auction, or perhaps Sir Armstrong-Hughes himself, was the key to solving this case.
I just had to hope that Inspector Dorian could be swayed by his brother.
By the time the cab arrived at my parents’ house, I had begun to feel the full weight of the day and was sorely tempted to return to my aunt’s flat.
But no. I needed to see Delia, if only to give her some reassurance.
I paid the driver and hid a yawn behind the back of my hand as I ascended the steps.
Once more, the footman ushered me inside.
“Is my sister in?” I asked as he took my coat.
“I believe she is in the parlor with your brother, Mrs. Harper.”
“Thank you,” I replied, not even bothering to hide my disappointment. Jack was the last person I wanted to see right now. But like any good servant, Cartwright pretended not to notice my disdain and simply nodded before he disappeared with my coat and hat.
I let out a sigh and straightened my shoulders as I headed down the hall.
Idly, I wondered if Mother had told Jack that I was conducting my own investigation, then decided against it.
No doubt he would have disapproved, but only because he liked to be the one in control of things and would see my actions as undermining his own.
I paused just outside the parlor door, but no sound came from within. Perhaps Cartwright was mistaken and Jack had already left through the mews. It was on this thought that I entered the room and was immediately disappointed. First, because Jack was there, and second, he was alone.
He glanced up from his chair, a newspaper in hand, and shot me a frown. “What are you doing here?”
I fought back the urge to roll my eyes and moved farther into the room. “Good afternoon. I came to see Delia.”
He tossed the paper on the table in exasperation.
“Well, she’s asleep. I came here to speak to her as well and have been waiting for over a quarter hour.
” Jack considered it a personal insult if he was made to wait any longer than five minutes, so this was a grievous offense on Delia’s part.
“What’s the matter with her anyway? Mother said she’s taken to sleeping every afternoon. ”
“She did just suffer a loss,” I pointed out as I took the seat across from him.
“Come off it,” he scoffed. “It isn’t as though they were married.”
I raised an eyebrow, and he seemed to realize that he sounded like an absolute ass.
“Sorry,” he grumbled and pulled a hand down his face.
For a moment, he looked far older than his forty-one years.
I tried to keep in mind that even though his pompousness was incredibly frustrating, he did have a great number of responsibilities.
And this murder certainly wasn’t helping.
“It’s just that I’ve heard from my solicitor. ”
My heartbeat quickened. “What did he say? Is Delia still a suspect?”
He let out a sigh. “Yes, at the moment. But he believes it is only a matter of time before they focus on someone else. Apparently, they found the murder weapon in the bushes outside the building, and it is unlikely that a woman of Delia’s size could have wielded it with the force needed to cause the blows that killed Charles Pearson. ”
“Goodness. What on earth was used?”
“Some kind of marble orb,” Jack said with a grimace. “They think Charles Pearson was using it as a doorstop.”
I couldn’t help imagining the scene: Charles coming back from our evening out, entirely unaware that his murderer was lying in wait for him. After all I had learned about him, I was hardly a fan of the man, but I hoped, for his sake, that death had come quickly.
“Well,” I began, clearing my throat, “that’s good news, isn’t it?”
Jack gave a halfhearted shrug. “The longer this case drags on, the harder it will be to keep Delia’s name out of the papers. And yours, for that matter.”
I ignored his look of disapproval. “A bit of scandal is much preferable to being wrongly hanged for murder,” I said pointedly.
But Jack shook his head and mumbled something about headstrong sisters under his breath. Then he glanced at the clock on the mantel. “I can’t wait any longer. Some of us have work to do in the afternoons,” he added unnecessarily.
“I will speak to Delia,” I said.
“Just make sure she continues to keep close to home,” he said as he stood. Then he shot me a look. “You as well.”
My jaw tightened, and I narrowed my eyes. Even after all this time, no one could get under my skin as quickly and easily as my brother. “I’m fine, thank you.”
Jack didn’t bother to respond to this. But just as he reached the door, he looked back. “You should know I saw the viscount yesterday.”
I instinctively gripped the arms of my chair. “And?”
He had the nerve to look disappointed. “I didn’t tell him anything about you, Minnie.”
I let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
But Jack frowned. “That doesn’t mean he won’t hear about it from someone else, though. If I were you, I would contact him first. If only for a show of good faith. That would go a long way towards repairing things between you.”
“He is the one who damaged things when he tried to take Tommy from me,” I said hotly.
“He only wanted Thomas to attend Eton, like Oliver. And the rest of the Harper men.”
How dare he invoke Oliver in an attempt to guilt me. I shot up from my chair as that old anger blazed through me. “Are you truly taking his side in this?”
“No,” Jack said quickly. “And I don’t approve of how he went about it.” I let out a snort, but he continued. “I just mean that the boy is growing up. And you can’t keep him beside you forever.”
“Yes, thank you very much for that invaluable piece of information,” I snapped. “I never could have come to that conclusion without the input of my male relatives.”
Jack raked a hand through his hair, mussing the perfect strands. “Christ, Minnie. I’m only trying to help.”
I lifted my chin. “Well, you’ve done quite enough.”
“Fine,” he growled, then hauled open the door and stomped out of the room.
I let out a frustrated groan and threw up my hands. I hadn’t felt so angry since … since …
Since Corfu.
Since Mr. Dorian had made his accusations against Oliver. The anger all but fled from my body at that realization, and I slumped back into my chair. I turned to the hearth, where the fire still crackled, and stared at the flames while my mind thrummed.
I had been fighting so hard not to see the connection, but I couldn’t keep ignoring it.
This investigation was no longer just about finding Charlie’s killer.
It was also about Oliver. And determining once and for all if Mr. Dorian had been right about him.
A soft rain began to fall outside, and the light patter on the windows drew my attention away from the hearth.
Then I noticed that the sky had darkened, and I sat up.
Nearly half an hour had passed since Jack stormed out.
I needed to return home, but not without looking in on Delia first. I rose from my chair and exited the room.