Chapter Thirty-Four
Dawn slowly started to break through the darkness of the night as Jack stood at the window of her bedroom, looking out across the horizon, watching as the sun’s rays battled against the thick smog blanketing London’s streets.
The gas lamps lining the road like sentinels were oblivious to their impending doom as the gas lighter slowly approached with his pole, reaching up with it and hooking it onto the chain of the lamp, extinguishing the flame.
Was that what death felt like? Alive one moment and extinguished the next? It was a question she’d thought about a lot over the years, given her own parents’ deaths. But it was a question that had been pressing on her thoughts most especially over the last week with death heading her way.
After she and Tobias had finished at Chesterton yesterday, he’d dropped her back here, with a plan to collect her again this morning.
More inquiries had to be made, but Jack was starting to feel that Thomas Clorren had no intention of allowing them to catch him.
She’d spent most of the carriage ride back to London yesterday, lost in the memories of her past, which had continued to haunt her dreams last night too.
Over the years, she’d tried so hard to forget the circumstances of her father’s death, but images of the night had come back to her in vivid detail.
Had her father’s second apprentice, the meek and mild Tommy, really been the baron’s son, Thomas?
Neither she nor her father had ever met his son; in fact, they’d both only seen his wife in court when the baron was being sentenced.
The baron had never bothered to bring his family with him to London on his trips, instead leaving them at their country manor.
Perhaps if they had accompanied him, the baron wouldn’t have become so obsessed with Jack’s mother.
And then perhaps none of this would have ever happened…
It was wishful thinking. And she’d never had either the time or luxury to indulge in wishful thinking, even if a little voice often whispered what if…
She’d tried so hard to run from her past, but now it seemed she was on a direct path to collide with it, and she had no choice but to confront it head on. But how was she meant to confront someone from her past that was like a ghost?
What she remembered of Tommy Smith wasn’t much of anything, really.
He’d been a quiet young man who had been neither remarkable nor memorable.
Perfect, she supposed, if he had been trying to fool them as to his identity.
He’d been a keen observer, though, and a rather gifted magician, one whose sleight-of-hand skills had been close to rivaling her own.
A fact of which Caleb had been especially jealous, though at the time, she’d just thought of him as simply being pouty, given she’d been thirteen and had been slightly infatuated with the dashing Caleb Dodd.
At least she was well and truly over that now.
It begged the question, though, if Caleb had found her, had he also found Tommy, or Thomas, rather? And could they be working together? She still couldn’t reconcile the thought that Caleb was involved, even if it was starting to look as if perhaps he was.
She sighed. What she did know was that she didn’t know much of anything, and that was the most frustrating thing of all. Especially in the situation she found herself facing.
Shaking her head, she pulled out her pack of playing cards and began to run through her morning routine of practicing her skills in sleight of hand, misdirection, and dexterity.
Skills her father had taught her and that she’d practiced for hours upon hours a day, every single day, for years after her mother had died.
Practice sessions that she still maintained every morning before she went down to breakfast. Though she might not want anything to do with the world of magic, her skills had kept her alive over the years, not to mention assisted her greatly in her investigation career.
So maintain her routine, she did, without fail.
Plus, when she practiced her shuffling techniques, palming cards, and all manner of things her father had taught her, she felt closer to him, like she was at least keeping his memory alive within her.
Two hours later she went down to the breakfast room, grateful that Mrs. Thompson was already there and placing a pot of freshly brewed coffee onto the side table.
“You’re a life saver, Mrs. Thompson,” Jack said, striding into the room and over to the side table.
Mrs. Thompson gasped and spun around to face her. “Good gracious me! Miss Hart, you startled me.” She placed a hand up to her chest, while glancing over to the wall clock that was hung on the far side of the room. “I wasn’t expecting you down here for at least another ten minutes or so.”
“The inspector is picking me up shortly.” She poured herself a cup of coffee and took a hearty sip.
The warmth of the brew slid down her throat, and instantly, she started to feel more like herself.
Mrs. Thompson might not have been great at baking, but she knew how to brew an excellent pot of coffee.
“Bad dreams again last night?” Mrs. Thompson’s brows drew together as she glanced over to Jack in concern.
“It’s that noticeable, is it?” It seemed impossible lately that she might even get one night of dream-free slumber.
“It looks like you’ve barely slept a wink,” Mrs. Thompson replied, her frankness being something Jack had always appreciated. “Though I don’t think any of us really have, given it’s been a very stressful week, hasn’t it?”
“You could say that.”
“Dreadful things, these murders are.” Her hand went from her chest up to the gold cross around the chain at her neck that she always wore. “Have you made any progress on your investigation yet?”
Jack took another sip of the coffee, then shook her head. “It seems like we keep chasing our tails. Though at least we believe we know the identity of the Conjurer now.”
“Why, that’s marvelous!” Mrs. Thompson exclaimed. “If you know who he is, then he can be arrested, can’t he? And this nightmare can all be over.”
If only it were that simple. Jack quickly explained to her about the issue regarding Thomas Clorren’s identity and him most likely going by another name now. “We still have no idea of who he might be or where he actually is.”
“That does make it difficult, doesn’t it…” Mrs. Thompson sighed. “In any event, I’ll go fetch the eggs and bacon for you for breakfast. There’re some bread rolls already on the sideboard, but I was waiting for you all to come down before fully serving breakfast.”
“The bread will be fine, Mrs. Thompson,” Jack said, downing the last of her coffee before grabbing a roll and biting into it, without bothering to butter it. “Truly, I don’t feel like eating much of anything this morning, and the inspector is due to collect me about now.”
The woman put her hands on her hips and glared at her. “You barely ate your dinner last night, either, having gotten home so late. No wonder you look like you’re fading away to a shadow. I’ll get you some of your favorite lamb chops when I go to the market today.”
“I don’t even know if they’ll tempt me. But I’m sure I’ll regain my appetite once all of this is over.” The ringing of the doorbell signaled Tobias’s prompt arrival. “That would be the inspector.”
“Do be careful, Miss Hart,” Mrs. Thompson with a resigned shake of her head as Jack headed out of the breakfast room.
“I will,” Jack called over her shoulder before she strode down the corridor to the entrance hall, opening the front door for Tobias.
“You didn’t check it was me before you opened the door.” The fierce frown on his face matched the displeasure in his voice as she stepped out onto the entrance portico beside where he was standing.
“Who else would it be?” she replied. “You’ve got two police officers standing and watching my front-door stoop.” She pointed over to the two constables across the road, both of whom were staring at them.
Tobias’s frown seemed to deepen further. “You should still check.”
“Good morning to you too.” She shoved the bread roll between her teeth and shut the front door firmly, locking it with her key.
He shook his head, muttering something about a stubborn woman, before he followed her down the steps to the footpath, where the hackney carriage in which he’d arrived was waiting.
She stepped up into the carriage and took a seat on the bench facing forward while Tobias took the seat across from her. Quickly, she took a bite of the roll and watched as he settled himself. “What is our plan of action for this morning?”
“I thought we might go talk to Dr. Patterson, given he was one of the baron’s treating doctors,” he answered.
“That’s a good idea.” Once again, she was oddly aware of how very broad his shoulders were as he sat there, taking up nearly the entire bench seat.
Unbidden thoughts of what they’d been doing on one of their previous carriage rides assailed her and she felt the slight flush of a blush rushing over her cheeks.
His lips twisted lightly at the corners, almost as if he knew what she was thinking. But if he did, thankfully, he was being a gentleman about it and not saying anything. “We’ll also need to stop at Yard and the mortuary.”
She cleared her throat. “I can wait outside for you when we stop at the Yard.”
He raised a brow. “You don’t want to come in? Well, that is a surprise, given you happily let yourself in the other day. Although I’m guessing your poor opinion of the police might have something to do with it.”
“It shouldn’t be a surprise that I have no wish to be inside a building full of police officers again, unless I have to be.”
“Suit yourself, but they’re not all bad.”
“My interactions differ from yours, Inspector. Greatly.”
“‘Inspector,’ is it?” He murmured, looking at her much like someone would an oddity. “I thought we were long past that, given what we got up to yesterday in a carriage like this.”