CHAPTER 18 #2
“There’s one last convict ship sailing for the Antipodes. All the little fish will be on the Hougoumont when it leaves for Western Australia. They’ll be far from our shores, swimming in southern waters before anyone’s the wiser for it.”
Julia set her glass aside. “Inspector Tennant must be furious.”
“Spitting mad he was last night. ’Tis the second reason I’m here. After tying together some loose ends, I got back to the Yard late this morning and found his desk cleared out. All he left behind was a note.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Andrew Lewis said.
“It said he’s seeing the commissioner for a brief leave of absence, but that empty desk tells the tale.” O’Malley shook his head. “Chief Inspector Clark will be hoping he’ll never come back.”
“I’ll bet,” Julia said, frowning. “But surely Richard won’t give Clark the satisfaction.”
“I thought I’d catch the inspector at Russell Square, but his housekeeper said he took the 12:10 from Victoria Station to his house in Kent.”
“What do you think, Sergeant?” Dr. Lewis said. “Will a little time away in the country soften his disgust?”
“His note had a finality about it. Apologizing for not seeing me, saying some nice words, and thanking me. And that was that. I think he’s planning to resign from the Yard.”
“No,” Lady Aldridge said. “That cannot be. Someone must go after the dear boy and change his mind before he makes it up.”
* * *
Julia had the first-class carriage to herself, and the 12:10 to Dover gave her two hours to think before it arrived at Richard’s village of Adisham.
That morning, she’d scrambled to install her grandfather at the clinic for the day and arrange the services of Dr. Barnes through Sunday.
A note delivered by hand to Tennant’s housekeeper had secured his country address and the information that Julia could hire a pony trap from the blacksmith near the railway station.
The smithy’s boy would drive her the last two miles to Tennant’s house.
Aunt Caroline had urged her to go to him, but in the morning, concern for the proprieties sunk in. “Does Richard have a housekeeper in Kent?” Her aunt had eyed the bag Julia’s maid packed for several nights away from home. Then Lady Aldridge left to telegraph for a room at a Dover hotel.
The train sped through Surrey and crossed into Kent. Julia closed her eyes and thought about her trip to Dover with her grandparents. Nearly ten years ago . . .
There had been no railway line beyond Canterbury.
Instead, they’d traveled by carriage, sharing the road to the coast with the omnibus traffic from Canterbury.
She and her grandfather had walked from Shepherd’s Wall to Dover, the last miles of the Pilgrims’ Way.
Her grandmother hadn’t felt up to it. It had been a bittersweet holiday, the summer before Julia left for medical school.
The summer before her grandmother’s death.
Julia’s next journey took her across the ocean.
She remembered the flutter of excitement and unease the night before she boarded the ship at Southampton.
She felt similar sensations on the ride to Adisham.
As the train chugged out of Canterbury station and the cathedral’s towers receded into the distance, Julia rehearsed her arguments.
She’d begin by reminding Richard about the start of the case and how he’d asked her to bury her qualms and get on with the job.
Wouldn’t he heed his advice and do the same?
And then there was his career, the over ten years he’d invested in the Metropolitan Police.
Would he waste his time, talent, and the commissioner’s confidence by throwing it all away?
As for the squalid decision not to prosecute .
. . wasn’t that an argument for hanging on?
The Yard needed police officers with Tennant’s integrity and sense of justice.
And last, Julia would tell him that acting on one’s white-hot rage was a mistake.
He should let his anger cool and reconsider.
What of her reconsiderations?
Julia sighed and looked at the spring landscape, the yellow-green countryside framed fleetingly by her window.
Houses, fields, and villages flashed by and vanished in an instant.
She thought, The path I’ve taken . . . it’s as if I’ve hurtled down a track.
She’d thought it hadn’t mattered because she’d headed in a straight line, knowing what she wanted, sure of her destination.
But lately . . . Lately, she’d wondered about changing course, taking the turning, and walking through the open gate. Not lately. Since she met Richard.
Perhaps it’s simple, after all. Still . . .
What if she couldn’t persuade Richard to return to the Yard? What if the journey was an ending, not a turning? It was if she’d removed a stopper and felt her spirits drain.
With Canterbury and Bekesbourne behind her, Julia thought, One more stop.
As the train neared Adisham, it curved along a high embankment, crossing a double-arched bridge before braking to a screeching halt at the sleepy village station.
Julia asked the stationmaster about the pony trap and when the last train left for Dover.
He pointed out the blacksmith’s workshop and said, “Last run from Adisham to Dover is the 4:50.”
Julia left her overnight case with him and started across the road. Then she stopped. She retrieved her bag, hired the pony trap, and set off on the two-mile journey to Richard’s house.
Orchards of white-blossomed apple trees stretched along the road.
The spring breeze sent their petals afloat, settling on the grass like a dusting of snow.
How lovely, she thought, and her heart lifted.
They rounded a bend, and the pony trap slowed as they approached a house with an iron gate. Julia eyed the carpet bag at her feet.
To hell with Dover. She grasped the handle and stood.
* * *
A slight, older woman with salt-and-pepper hair opened the cottage door. She’d turned back her white cuffs and covered her black dress with a duster. The caller had interrupted her housekeeping.
Julia smiled. “Good afternoon. Is Inspector Tennant in?”
“I’m afraid you’ve missed him. He left this morning for Dover to catch the noon steamer to France, Miss . . .”
“Julia Lewis.”
“Doctor Lewis?”
When she nodded, the housekeeper smiled and stepped back. “Won’t you come in? I’ve been waiting for the postman. I have a letter for you. Richard asked me to send it off this afternoon.”
* * *
In the morning in Dover, Julia ignored the waiting cabs at her hotel, passed the omnibus stand, and started the climb to the white cliffs on foot.
The morning was warm, so Julia peeled off her wool jumper halfway up the path.
At the summit, she crossed a field gilded with buttercups and stopped ten yards from the cliffs’ edge.
She spread her jumper and sat amid the humming grass, looking across the sea.
The morning fog had burned away hours earlier, and the sun shone high in the cloudless azure sky.
She ignored her vigilant watch for once and surrendered to the sunshine and the rippling breeze.
Julia leaned on her elbow and listened to the shorebirds’ counterpoint. Soaring gulls wheeled and cawed, wings spread to the wind, dipping low beneath the cliffs. Skylarks shot heavenward, their piercing chirps and trills adding to the morning concert.
She slid Richard’s letter from her pocket and read it again.
Dear Julia,
As you open this in London, I am in France. Sir Richard kindly granted me a six-month leave of absence. In my present state of mind, I am no good to anyone—not to the Yard, myself, and, least of all, my friends.
I am happy to write that my godfather didn’t let the clubmen slip the noose.
The home secretary decided not to prosecute.
While Sir Richard’s disgust matches mine, his hands are tied.
He has issued an open warrant for Sidney Allen’s arrest, but it is an empty gesture without the resources to back it up.
I believe Sir Richard knows what I intend, although we said nothing at our meeting. If the Yard will not pursue Allen in earnest, I must, as a measure of justice for Franny and Jin and all the others.
I hope it won’t be long before I return, restored in mind and heart.
Richard
Julia looked up from the letter. She stood and walked to the chalky edge, the wind streaming strands of hair that she dragged from her face.
The blue-green sea stretched before her, restless and rippling.
In the far distance, she made out the hazy cliffs of France and the white strand at their base. Then they dissolved in a blur of tears.
“Godspeed,” she whispered, and walked back to the path.