Chapter 15 #2
And there was that divine rush of fellow-feeling she always seemed to get in Cab’s presence.
“Thank you. In your experience as a lawyer within the criminal justice system, to what authority might the college appeal to take up an investigation into the cause and circumstances of this young woman’s death?
I’ve done so only because the town’s watchmen are unprepared to do anything. ”
“Only?” Cab’s smile was both teasing and knowing.
“I am trying to do so discreetly,” she admitted quietly. “Very discreetly.”
Cab cast an eye toward where she had just been sitting with Wilkerson, but thankfully made no comment on her discretion, instead turning to more serious matters. “Has the county coroner’s office been contacted?”
“Indeed. They came yesterday, but as far as I know, no official identification has been made.”
“But your doctor was sure of her findings?” he asked.
The image of the dark purple bruises across the poor girl’s neck were seared into Marigold’s brain. “Quite sure.”
“Then once the coroner’s office has corroborated that finding, the case should be moved to the Special District Police, who have both the authority and the experience to investigate murders—unlike your local watch.
” He firmed his jaw—although Marigold doubted that such a clean-cut jaw could get any firmer.
“If you like, I could put in a discreet word—they are under the authority of Mr. Augustus Endicott.”
“A relative?” Like most of Boston society, who tended to intermarry, Cab was related to the influential Endicott family through one of his parents.
“Distantly, but I have enough of a connection to him through the law to ask that one of his officers be assigned to this case as soon as possible.”
While Marigold hated to rely on something so variously available as influence, she would take the gift for the benefit of the college. “Thank you, Cab.”
“Happy to help where I can.”
“Naturally.” The lovely sense of fellow-feeling dissolved into reassurance.
“I also wondered if it would be possible for you to make discreet inquiries at the major ocean liner docks or offices? Despite some recent information, I can’t shake the feeling that a local girl who is said to have eloped on a transatlantic liner—Isabella told you my suspicions about Miss Olivia Thayer?
—is somehow tied into this unfortunate affair. It’s just too coincidental.”
“I understand.” Cab was nodding in that wonderfully thoughtful way that made a person feel as if they were being taken seriously and not pandered to. “What line was cited in the telegram?”
“White Star, I think.” Marigold gave the name of the most prominent of the Boston Route lines. “And I also wondered if there was some way to tell if the purported elopement did actually happen—would there be some record of a marriage? I’m assuming a civil marriage and not a religious one?”
“I don’t know of any religions that will marry a couple without notice,” Cab offered. “But justices of the peace and city and county clerks could certainly do.”
“You see,” Marigold felt emboldened to carry on thinking out loud, “before the report of this elopement, I would have considered Olivia Thayer an ambitious, academically minded young woman, judging from her speechmaking. So I have some doubts as to whether she would agree to eloping to Europe in the first place—with or without a legal marriage.”
“Would you do so?” Cab asked quietly.
Marigold was momentarily taken aback. Because if she were honest with herself, given the right circumstances—the right man—she certainly would not need, nor want, the surety of a marriage to embark upon any trip.
She eschewed the very idea of marriage. Even with this man—though she would certainly embark upon a transatlantic voyage with him at any time he might agree to do so.
But only with this man.
She lifted her chin to give him a level gaze. “You know I would, Cab. But I am several years older”—and hopefully wiser—“than Olivia Thayer. And we are not speaking of me.”
“Not everyone shares your antipathy for marriage, Marigold—even amongst your peers,” Isabella pointed out.
“Naturally,” she agreed. “But the question is if Miss Olivia Thayer, a well-educated, academically minded seventeen-year-old from Wellesley, whose family were prominent in religious, Transcendentalist circles, and who was making a name for herself speaking on universal suffrage—nothing conventional about her so far,” Marigold commented.
“Would this girl insist upon a conventional marriage or not? And assuming for argument’s sake that she did, would there be, somewhere within the town or county or city of Boston, some record of said marriage? ”
Cab did not exactly answer the question but said instead, “I will endeavor to find out.”
“Thank you, Cab. I am very much obliged.” Marigold’s admiration mixed with gratitude. “The date of sailing was said to have been Sunday, October seventh.”
“And the name of this young man she eloped with?”
“I don’t know. A local boy, I assume.” She would have to look into that—Professor Currier had only identified him as a ne’er-do-well and a rotter.
“That will make it more difficult, but I will see what I can do.” Cab duly wrote all the information down on the back on one of those folded papers he extracted from his pocket. Which was none of her business.
“I so appreciate your assistance,” she added, just in case she had not made her own fellow-feeling clear. “And even if I weren’t seeking assistance, it is always such a pleasure to see you.” She stopped herself from laying her hand over his—just.
“You are most welcome,” Cab responded graciously without any physical demonstrativeness of his own. “I hope you know I feel the same.”
Marigold would not allow herself to glance at Isabella, who was all but radiating her I-told-you-so aura. “Naturally,” Marigold said easily. “It is something of a pleasure to find oneself taken seriously.”
“You can always be sure of that with me, Marigold,” Cab responded. “Always.”
Marigold felt something of a dart to her heart when Cab used that word—always.
She had to remind herself that speaking in such a fashion was part and parcel of who Cab was as a man—hadn’t she just been ruminating on his self-discipline and steely disposition?
No doubt he spoke that way to Isabella too, not just to her.
Although, if she were honest, in her heart of hearts, she certainly hoped he didn’t.