CHAPTER 1
Dr. Julia Lewis flinched as a spray of saltwater slapped her face.
She braced herself on the heaving deck as the steamer’s bow rose and fell, the ship plunging toward the Isle of Wight. At that moment, she’d happily exchange her lot for London’s clammy fogs, solid pavements, and a line of patients queuing at her clinic.
Kate Connelly’s right hand anchored her straw bonnet. She took Julia’s arm with her left. “Come away from the rail, Doctor Julie,” her maid said. “You’re looking all green, you are.”
Julia shook her head and tightened her grip. “I’ll disgrace myself on the deck if I look away.”
“’Tis mind over matter, they say.”
“More like my head over the rail in another minute.”
Julia dragged her eyes to where sea and sky met and tried to fix her gaze on the line.
It wasn’t easy as the paddle-wheeled vessel pitched and churned.
She was never a happy sailor. Julia’s trip across the Atlantic to medical school in America had been a voyage of prolonged torture.
As for the steamer to the Isle of Wight, there were many days when the strait that separated the island from Britain’s south coast was in a placid mood. That afternoon, it kicked and scowled.
Things went from bad to worse when word spread among the ship’s passengers that their route had changed.
“Shoals, miss,” the first mate said. “They’ve formed across the approach to the landing at Cowes Harbor, so we’ll swing farther east.”
Julia groaned. “How much longer?”
“Nothing to speak of,” he said. “Quarter of an hour, maybe.”
The sightseers and seasoned sailors with iron stomachs didn’t seem to mind. They crowded the rails and craned their necks: the eastern route afforded a distant glimpse of Osborne House, the queen’s residence in East Cowes.
“The royal standard isn’t flying,” a passenger said, peering through field glasses. “Her Majesty must be away.”
Someone whistled. “Look at the size of that yacht at anchor. Belongs to the Prince of Wales. Wonder what Bertie’s doing at Osborne without the queen?”
A third man elbowed his friend and winked. “While the cat’s away.”
Twenty miserable minutes later, the steamship slipped into the protected waters of Cowes Harbor.
Kate said, “You’re looking less green already.”
Julia smiled wanly. “I may live after all.”
“’Tis just what the doctor ordered, if you don’t mind me saying. New sights and fresh air to breathe.”
“You and I could do with both. Speaking of sights …” Julia peered over the rail, scanning the crowd on the quay. “I don’t see—”
“There they are. Over to the left.” Kate streamed her handkerchief. “’Tis Doctor Lewis and your great-aunt, waiting by a four-wheeler.”
Julia’s grandfather lifted his hat and waved it, his snowy hair catching the early afternoon sunlight. Then he pointed them out to his sister, Lady Aldridge.
Kate left Julia with her doctor’s case and carpetbag and searched for a porter to carry the rest of their luggage.
A half hour later, they rolled up to the white, ivy-covered hotel only steps from the seawall.
Julia climbed down from the carriage and looked up at the castle-like facade of the Marine Hotel.
“Grandfather, you’ve booked us into a palace by the sea.”
Dr. Lewis took Julia’s arm. “Fit for a future king. Fit for my granddaughter. I’m told the Prince of Wales is a regular guest during the yachting season.”
“How grand.”
“A party of young men in his set is staying here now,” Aunt Caroline said. “Laying up their boats for the winter. Or putting them down. I can’t remember which they said.”
“Odd that the prince takes rooms here,” Julia said. “Why not stay at Osborne House with the queen?”
“Oh, he stays at Osborne when Her Majesty is away.” Dr. Lewis chuckled. “Keeping out of his mother’s sight affords Prince Bertie, ah …”
“More scope for mischief,” his sister said.
“He’s there, now. Kate and I saw his yacht at anchor.” Julia turned her face to the light breeze. “You were right about the soft air and sunshine, Aunt. On land, at least.”
“The Isle of Wight is just the tonic you need, my dear. But first, a rest is in order.” Lady Aldridge handed Kate the room keys. “After that, join me downstairs for tea.”
“With pleasure.” Julia kissed her aunt on the cheek and followed Kate up the stairs. Six weeks away from London, and she’s longing for the news, Julia guessed. And she’ll want to hear about Richard.
Julia was Scotland Yard’s first female medical examiner and had worked two cases with Detective Inspector Richard Tennant. After a rocky start, their uneasy alliance evolved into a respectful partnership and friendship. And something more?
Lady Aldridge would ask about his hunt for the man who’d slipped the net on their last case. But nearly a month of silence followed Julia’s last letter. Aunt Caroline would want to know the state of the chase and her niece’s heart.
If only I had answers.
Lizzie Dowling sped down the path from Osborne House. Her lithe way of moving made her seem girlish, but when she smiled, fine, radial lines etched lightly from the corners of her green eyes. She wasn’t a child but a woman in her late twenties and lovely enough to turn heads.
The queen’s parlor maid had spent the morning of her half day changing sheets at Osborne House.
Just before two o’clock, Lizzie passed through the gate, peering down York Street, afraid she’d missed the omnibus.
She pined for the solace of her secret place.
If the ’bus had gone, it would be another week until her next free afternoon.
Lizzie pulled a letter from her pocket and hesitated at the pillar box by Osborne’s gate. Her hand hovered at the slot. She hadn’t written to her younger sister since the summer. That was before it started up again. Lizzy sighed, thinking, Granny always said, let sleeping dogs lie.
But when the ’bus rounded the bend, Lizzie pushed the letter into the slot.
She signaled the driver and climbed up, relieved to spot an empty seat in the crowded cabin.
At least she’d avoid a windy, rocking ride aloft.
As the road swung east around a curve, she watched the tall, square towers of the queen’s house vanish behind a stand of gray-barked ashes.
Lizzie settled in, tucking loose strands of auburn hair under her hat.
She’ll help me. She’ll tell me what to do.
The girl started to make the sign of the cross, then stopped herself, looking around at the other passengers, wondering if they’d noticed.
She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer, Hail Mary, full of grace …
Warm weather lingered on the Isle of Wight, the trees showing just a trace of autumn yellow at their tops.
The ’bus rumbled through green hedgerow alleys and rolled past golden fields.
After a few miles, it rattled over the timbers of Wooten Creek Bridge, and her shoulder bumped the elderly rider beside her.
The man smiled at her apology and looked back at his newspaper.
As they passed the Old Mill Pond, its glassy surface turned gray, then blue, and gray again as clouds slid across the sun.
Nearly there.
The busman slowed and stopped just before Quarr Lane began its turn away from the sea. Lizzie hurried forward, one hand holding her bonnet in place, and handed the driver a sixpence.
“Don’t forget, lass. The last ’bus of the day returns at five.” He gave her a long look. “You take care in that lonely place.”
But Lizzie never felt alone there, and she wouldn’t be late.
All the queen’s servants had watches to keep them on the household’s strict schedule, and she’d pinned hers underneath her shawl.
Not that she needed a timepiece. As a child in Ireland, she had lived on a farm.
In the days before … Lizzie closed her eyes.
She wouldn’t think about that. But she knew the close of day by the churr-churring of the grasshopper warbler and cooling air that felt like a caress across her cheek.
She’d be waiting for the ’bus long before moonrise.
’Tis a Hunter’s Moon tonight, she remembered.
It would light her way on the dark walk across Osborne Park, the house towers glowing in the moonlight.
Lizzie watched the omnibus disappear around the bend and stood for a moment in the sudden quiet.
Then she pulled her skirts away from her boots and slipped through an opening in the hedgerow.
Across the road, a figure moved in the shadows of the trees.
Lady Aldridge and Julia sipped tea from the hotel’s flowery, red-and-yellow cups.
An observer might have guessed they were relatives.
They sat erect in their chairs, looking taller than most women even while sitting.
Lady Aldridge’s hair was silver and Julia’s chestnut, but she and her great-niece shared the same high cheekbones, firm chins, and faces better described as handsome than pretty.
The arch of their brows was identical, but not the eyes beneath.
Julia’s were brown, and her aunt’s a cornflower blue.
“Well, my dear …” Lady Aldridge returned her saucer and cup to the table, leveling her gaze.
Julia, who knew her great-aunt well, thought, Tea, cucumber sandwiches, and interrogation.
“I’m not sure which surprises me more,” Lady Aldridge said. “That you absented yourself from the clinic for three whole weeks or that you traveled here like a lady, for once, in the company of your maid.”
“I thought you’d be pleased,” her niece said, smiling.
Julia had opened her clinic in Whitechapel five years earlier and was used to coming and going unchaperoned.
But it was not merely the travel that worried her aunt.
Lady Aldridge fretted about the long hours Julia devoted to the clinic.
She thought her niece looked worn out on many evenings and told her so. Often.
“How are they managing at the clinic without you?”