Chapter Thirty
THIRTY
We start being more circumspect the moment we return to the coach and Simon’s gaze lands heavy on me. He’s worried about my relationship with Gray changing. Worried that I’ll be hurt, however honorable Gray’s intentions.
I won’t dismiss his concerns. What he doesn’t know is that I’m not actually a twenty-year-old former housemaid for whom marriage to Gray would be a life-changer.
But his concerns are still valid in the sense that there are complications here.
Gray and I aren’t ready to deal with them, but we will need to.
For now, we stop holding hands as soon as we’re in the open, and we walk down the hill talking business.
“I want to take Edgar Parsons up on his offer to re-create a séance,” I say. “Jack would like to be there, if she could. She seems to think she’d be better able to see how it could be faked, and she might be right.”
“I have already arranged it. We will meet at the Adler home at one. Lady Adler has agreed not only to allow us access but to let us work in private.”
“Nice.”
We climb into the coach. Once it starts down the road, I say to Gray, “You will make an excellent detective junior partner, foreseeing my needs and making the arrangements.”
“I try.”
I lower my voice and go serious. “I know why you offered to start an agency, Duncan, but we don’t actually need to do that.”
He meets my gaze. “I think we do.”
“You hate the extra attention already.”
“I tolerate it. And now that it seems the Queen herself has taken an interest, interest will only grow.”
“Making me the face of the agency won’t help that. If you’re hoping it’ll divert attention—”
“That is not a consideration. If there is a selfish side to the suggestion, it is only that it solves a problem for us.” He presses his knee against mine.
“I know it will not be an easy transition. I also understand the idea of a joint agency will not be accepted at face value. The titters will continue. Clearly, I am so besotted with my former housemaid that making her my assistant was not enough. I have elevated her to the position of detective.”
“Or I have seduced you into it.”
He eyes me. “Are you worried about that?”
“No. Like you say, we can’t control what people think of us.”
“And whatever they do think, anyone who has worked with you on a case will understand that you are a detective.” He reaches to touch my knee.
“This is for us. Acknowledging what we already know—that you are a partner in this venture, and the senior partner when it comes to the investigating work. Making it clear to the world but also making it clear to us. So you never feel beholden to me and I never unintentionally make you feel beholden. All right?”
I nod. “All right.”
He leans back in his seat. “We will do it once the case is solved and Jack publishes the chronicle. In the last installment she can have me tell you about the agency.”
I arch a brow. “As my reward for a job well done?”
“Ah. Fair point. We will jointly discuss the idea on the page and agree to it.”
“Like we’re agreeing to this plan, which we have jointly discussed and devised.”
He sighs and thumps his head back. “Yes. Right. I intended this as a suggestion, and yet I am wording it as a decision. Another reminder of why the current system is not working.”
“You’re a Victorian male.”
He lifts a finger as if to correct me. Pauses.
Lowers the finger. “Yes. I know you mean that teasingly, but it is also true. I have spent my life feeling very smug about my forward-thinking attitudes toward women, instilled by my mother and sisters. But if there is a scale, I am only in the middle of it. There are still ingrained ideas that even Annis would not correct me on.”
“Your sister doesn’t let anyone put her in her place …
but she did put herself in one, working within the system as her husband’s representative when she was the one running the business.
She acknowledged what the world would and would not accept.
We’ll need to work within the same system, in public. And in private, I will correct you.”
“Gently?”
I shrug. “Depends.”
He only smiles. He knows I’d never call him out publicly or chew him out privately. He’s right. For a Victorian male, he’s a staunch feminist, and I can easily nudge him further as needed.
“So we’re re-creating the séance at one,” I say. “With Jack. You’ll need to speak to Mrs. Wallace about bringing her. Even when I’m your business partner, I can’t give orders to the household staff.”
“True. That will need to wait until you are lady of the house.”
“We just started dating, Duncan.”
“I know nothing of this ‘dating.’ I know only of courting, which has a very clear end point.”
“Whether I want it or not?”
His lips twitch. “That is what the courting is for. Convincing you. Just think of how delightful it will be when you can give Mrs. Wallace orders.”
“You like her cooking, right? Because you know if I’m ever the lady of the house, she’ll quit.”
“She would never abandon me. Especially not with you around. To remain vigilant against your machinations, she must remain. I have it all worked out.”
I shake my head. “Let’s focus on working out this séance re-creation.”
“I note that you did not say no to becoming lady of the house.”
“Again, we just started dating. I’m ignoring it.”
“Courting. Definite end point.”
“Séance. Definitely happening. Now, plan.”
We’ve had lunch, chatted with Isla, and spoken to Mrs. Wallace about taking Jack. Of course Gray did that last part—and only after speaking to Isla, at my suggestion. Women’s power might be restricted in this era, but the household is indisputably their domain. Gray acknowledges that.
Isla says it’s fine to borrow her housemaid for a few hours. Mrs. Wallace agrees, mostly because it’s her darling Gray asking. Gray may have been joking earlier, but he’s also right. If we ever did get married, she would stay on, just to be sure I didn’t murder him.
I used to say Mrs. Wallace was my Everest. The immovable obstacle I would conquer, even if it killed me.
I’ve given up on that. Deep down, she knows full well that I’m no threat to him.
But everyone needs to have a hobby, and hers is being the designated Mallory anti-fan, and who am I to argue with that?
As long as she doesn’t hold me at knifepoint again, we’re fine.
Gray, Jack, and I walk to Sciennes. We’re no longer as concerned about appearances with the Adlers. Also, Simon spent most of his morning waiting out our leisurely picnic. He could use the break, and we could use the exercise.
We arrive to find Edgar Parsons striding our way, annoyance etched on every feature.
“They will not let us in,” he says.
“What?” I say.
“The butler. He says the lord and lady are not at home, and no one left instructions for our séance. I thought this had been arranged in advance.”
“It was,” Gray says. “I did so yesterday evening. I was in town on business, and I had my groom relay a message. It was received, and a time was arranged. One o’clock.”
“Well, then you may wish to ask your man who he spoke to, because I am told that no arrangements have been made.”
“That is most peculiar,” Gray says. “Let me see whether I can clear this up.”
We do not clear it up. Loomis is adamant that he received no instructions. Neither did Mrs. Loomis. The butler recalls Simon calling last evening, and he says he took the message to the lady of the house, who told him to respond with “Yes, that is acceptable.”
So Lady Adler approved our use of the parlor.
That satisfies Parsons as confirmation that we are competent people.
But it doesn’t get us inside because Lady Adler didn’t actually tell anyone we were coming.
Loomis doesn’t know what the note said, and without that, he doesn’t know what she agreed to.
While Parsons accepts that the mistake wasn’t ours, he’s annoyed at having carved out time for nothing. I can tell he’ll be a whole lot less likely to agree to a redo.
Parsons leaves in his coach, which he’d had waiting. He offers us a lift, but that’d be awkward, so we tell him we’ll walk. Jack heads in the other direction—she wants to call on a friend who lives in the area, and she promises to be back at Robert Street in an hour or so.
Gray and I make our way down the street. When a hansom cab rounds the corner, I idly glance over my shoulder to see where it goes. It pulls into the Adler residence.
“Any chance the Adlers would take a cab?” I ask.
“Unlikely, but we should still be sure, in case it is them.”
We head back, quickening our pace. The cab has stopped by the side door, and a young woman climbs out with a large bag in hand.
The side door is for staff and deliveries, and despite the bag, I don’t think it’s a delivery. She’s perhaps in her early twenties, with dark hair pulled up under a hat that is neither fine nor rough. Overall, her attire suggests she’s spent the day traveling.
“Miss Sullivan?” I call.
She looks up, which answers the question. As we approach, her gaze moves from me to Gray and settles on him as she frowns.
“Miss Sullivan,” I say. “May I introduce myself. My name is Miss Mallory Mitchell, and this is my employer, Dr. Duncan Gray.”
“Whatever you are selling, I am not interested.” She waves for the cabdriver to depart and marches toward the door.
“We are not selling anything,” I say, keeping my tone unruffled. “Dr. Gray is a consulting detective. He is also the brother of Mrs. Isla Ballantyne, whom I’m sure you know from her visits to Lady Adler.”
Sully turns slowly, her gaze resting on Gray before glancing at me with a meaningful look. “I have met Mrs. Ballantyne, and so I know this is not any brother of hers.”
I bristle, but Gray smoothly moves forward.
“We share a father but not a mother,” he says.
“I can assure you that Mrs. Ballantyne is my sister. Lady Adler is also a great patron of my family’s undertaking business.
However, none of that explains why we hailed you.
It is simply an introduction, to assure you we are not, as you believed, ‘selling something.’”
Her mouth tightens in a sour look. “I do not care who you are. Hailing me is most inappropriate—”
“Dr. Gray is a consulting detective, as I said,” I cut in. “We are here about Nellie Carmichael.”
She goes still, her expression shuttering. “I know nothing of it.”
“Nothing of what?” I ask.
“Whatever a detective might be asking me in connection with that girl. She is a housemaid. I am a lady’s maid. We do not associate.”
“Lady Adler has hired us in regards to something that happened to Nellie.”
Her expression stays neutral, but the malicious gleam in her eyes sets my teeth on edge. “Has something happened?” she says, her voice so saccharine that Gray’s fingers discreetly touch my arm, as if he might need to physically restrain me.
“She’s dead,” I say.
Sullivan blinks. “I beg your—”
“Dead,” I say flatly. “Murdered. That’s why we’re investigating.” I peer at her. “Did you think it was for something else?”
She pulls back. “No, I—” She lifts her chin. “I believe we are done here.”
“Did you think it was about the blade you left in her boot?”
“I am going inside,” she says. “If you try to stop me, I shall scream.”
I consider telling her to go ahead. Scream. See what happens.
But we won’t score any points with Lady Adler if we force her maid to answer questions. For now, it’s enough to know she’s back home. Lady Adler has given me full access to the staff. She’ll handle Sully.
I turn and head for the road. Gray follows. Silence sounds behind us, as if Sully is staring after us in confusion. Let her think we dropped the matter. Let her relax. I smile to myself at the thought.
“Can you catch that cab?” I say to Gray, the coach just finally pulling from the lane.
He doesn’t ask why. He just strides forward and hails it, and the driver stops and seems happy to have picked up new passengers. Gray gives him the Robert Street address. Once we arrive, I speak to the driver as Gray pulls out payment.
“That young woman,” I say. “Might you tell us where you picked her up?”
I’m ready with a story, in case he’s reluctant to share, but Gray’s generous tip has him smiling, and he readily says, “At the train station, miss.”
“Had she just arrived?”
“Yes, miss. On the train from Glasgow. It comes at this time every day.”
I thank him, and Gray and I head inside.