Chapter 14
“Does no one at this paper know how to knock?” Nell inquired after Mr. Higgins had departed to fetch the policeman. She was quite impressed with how polite and disinterested the question sounded given the fact that the entirety of her insides were still trembling from Miles’s unexpected touch.
He ran a hand through his thick black hair, looking markedly out of humor. “We’ve no time for social niceties here. News breaks quickly.”
“It’s for efficiency, then?”
“That’s the idea.”
“It doesn’t seem very efficient to me, given what occurred when last I was here. Had Mr. Higgins stopped to knock, I’d still be employed as deputy headmistress at Miss Corvus’s Academy, and you and I—”
“We wouldn’t be married,” Miles finished for her. “Quite.”
“Something you might wish to take into consideration for the future.”
“There’s little point in it now that we’re wed. You can scarcely ruin me twice.”
Nell’s lips twitched. But she wouldn’t allow herself to smile. Her loss of position was no joking matter. “You may be surprised what I’m capable of, sir, given adequate incentive.”
A glimmer of wry humor flickered in Miles’s dark eyes. “I believe you capable of anything, ma’am.”
The door opened again. Higgins entered in company with a tall, sober-faced blond man in a Melton wool suit. “Inspector Garrick, sir,” Higgins introduced the man.
The inspector inclined his head. His close-trimmed beard and mustache added years to his face, but his blue eyes—though weary—were young. He couldn’t be that much older than Miles. “Mr. Quincey. Ma’am.”
“That will be all, Higgins,” Miles said.
“Very good, Mr. Quincey.” Mr. Higgins withdrew, shutting the door after him.
Miles remained beside Nell. All sign of humor—good or otherwise—had vanished from his countenance. He was, once again, as inscrutable as stone. “Well, Inspector? I assume you have news about my missing reporter?”
Inspector Garrick hesitated, glancing at Nell. “It’s of a delicate nature, sir. It may give offense to ladies.”
“My wife is privy to this sad business,” Miles said. “I give you leave to continue.”
Nell waited anxiously for the inspector to speak. Despite Miles’s assurances, the man was still visibly reluctant to discuss the matter in front of a female. It took him a full five seconds to find his voice.
“I’m sorry to report that a body was recovered this morning on the banks of the Thames matching the description you provided of one Mr. Lawrence Cowgill,” he said at last. “It’s currently being held at the hospital mortuary for identification. If you would be so good as to accompany me there.”
“Is this body missing its tongue?” Miles asked.
“It is,” the inspector said.
Nell recalled the sight of the severed organ with a private shudder. “Was that the cause of death?”
Again, Inspector Garrick hesitated. “He was stabbed, ma’am. Twice in the chest. The surgeon says the first strike would have killed him.”
Nell paled. She looked up at Miles. “Poor Mr. Cowgill.”
“Poor Mr. Cowgill, indeed,” Miles murmured. He regarded the inspector. “Are you the one tasked with investigating his murder?”
“I have that burden,” Inspector Garrick said. “His murder, and countless others. We do our best to solve them, but given our lack of resources, and the daily addition to their numbers…I can make no promises.”
“We have information that might help you,” Miles said.
The inspector stood to attention. “I should be grateful to hear it, sir.”
“Excellent.” Miles offered Nell his hand to assist her up. “My wife and I can fill you in on the way to the hospital.”
· · · · ·
One hour later…
What is it you were going to say to me before Higgins interrupted us?” Miles asked as their carriage rolled away from the hospital.
Nell fixed him with a frosty glare. He’d included her easily enough on the journey to the mortuary with Inspector Garrick.
Together, they had apprised the man of what they’d learned in Whitechapel—about Mrs. Pritchard, Mr. Cowgill’s incarceration in the brothel, and even the disappearance of Flora Brent.
But when they’d arrived at the hospital, rather than inviting Nell to accompany him in to identify the body, Miles had requested that she remain in the carriage.
No, not requested. Commanded.
At the time, Nell had grudgingly agreed.
There had been no rational reason for her to go inside.
She hadn’t known the gossip reporter, after all, and could provide no help with identification.
Her presence would have been superfluous.
Possibly distracting. Even so, after spending the past twenty minutes languishing inside the cab…
She was furious with Miles.
“Partners, you said,” she reminded him.
His expression betrayed a flash of bewilderment. “That’s what you wanted to say to me?”
“No,” she replied coolly. “It’s what I’m saying to you now.”
Miles tossed his hat onto the seat beside him. He loosened his tie. “You’re not upset that I prevented you from coming inside?”
“I’m not upset. I’m—”
“A mortuary is a dreadful place, Nell. The bodies are…” His forehead creased. “It’s not a fit sight for ladies.”
The carriage wheels rattled over the road as the horses rejoined the midmorning traffic on the busy thoroughfare.
Miles had directed his coachman to take them to the Royces’ house in Sloane Street.
Effie and her husband were supposed to have returned from Paris earlier this morning.
Had things progressed normally, Nell would have been arriving alone to stay with them for a short visit, rather than calling on them in the company of her new husband.
Nell dreaded to think what Effie would make of Nell’s reduction in circumstances. For that’s what marriage was for her, however much society viewed it as the opposite. Nell hadn’t gained anything. She’d only lost. First, her position. Then, her authority. And now her very autonomy.
“That’s your mistake,” she said. “The same foolish error that prevents men from uttering plain truths in the presence of women. You view us as delicate creatures, too fine and fragile to be dealt with on terms of equality.”
Miles’s brows sank in a scowl. “I was trying to protect you.”
“I don’t require your protection.”
“You’d rather be exposed to every degradation this city has on offer?
Sights that will haunt your dreams? Your waking hours, too?
” He shook his head, unrepentant. “No. I won’t have it.
If I can stand between you and the horrors of the world, I plan to do it.
Call it foolish, if you like, but there it is. I won’t apologize for it.”
Nell’s heart stumbled. Drat him and his chivalry.
And drat herself for being affected by it.
“I don’t require an apology,” she said, mustering what remained of her indignation.
“But I won’t be excluded, Miles. Lest you forget, not three days ago, I was the deputy headmistress of a school. Since then—”
“I know.”
“And now, for you to presume—”
“I don’t presume.”
“For Mr. Higgins, Mr. Flack, and Inspector Garrick to treat me as if I were a child—”
“They believed they were treating you with respect,” Miles said. “It wasn’t meant as an insult. I wouldn’t have allowed them to insult you.”
Her heart tripped again. It was impossible to be angry with him when he said such things. All the same…
She regarded him from her seat across the carriage with burgeoning suspicion. Was he managing her again? The same way he managed his hissing and spitting cats?
A lowering thought.
“I don’t wish to be handled with kid gloves,” she told him. “I may not have been part of your world these many years, but I’m not ignorant of it. I know what evils are out there. I don’t intend to shrink from them. I intend to fight them.”
“And to fight them you must see them up close in all their gruesomeness?” Miles looked steadily back at her.
His jaw was tight. “You said if this was going to work between us that you and I must defer to each other’s strengths.
One of mine is shouldering burdens for the people I care about.
It wasn’t my first visit to a mortuary, but it would have been yours.
You’ve had enough distress to contend with for the past three days.
There’s no point in you bearing any more of it when I can bear it for both of us. ”
Nell’s breath stopped for an instant. She was one of the people he cared about, was she?
But naturally she was.
He’d admitted as much last night. The mere fact of their marriage had made him care. She had his name now. She was, in law, his possession. He had a responsibility for her.
And perhaps that was truly all it was. Given the facts, it could scarcely be anything else. During the short and tumultuous course of their acquaintance, Miles had never once shown any genuine liking for the real her. For Penelope Trewlove—orphan, schoolmistress, radical bluestocking.
Rather the reverse.
Penelope Trewlove had both aggravated and exasperated him.
“You’re very considerate,” she said. “Still, you take my meaning.”
“And I trust you take mine,” he said. “I’d not wish the sights I’ve seen on my worst enemy.”
Nell felt a disconcerting twinge of guilt. In all her anger, she hadn’t considered that he might have been affected by what he’d seen when he’d gone into the mortuary with Inspector Garrick. “Was it very bad?” she asked.
“No.” He grimaced. “Yes.”
She exhaled heavily. “Oh, Miles…”
“There’s no dignity in it. It’s just…a pitiful end.”
“I’m sorry. And here I was selfishly trying to make a point.” She searched his face. “Did you know Mr. Cowgill well?”
“No. That’s the shame of it. I was brusque with him.
Dismissive. I didn’t respect his type of reporting, despite how many papers it sold, and I made no effort to hide it.
Perhaps that’s why he was out there, investigating something serious for a change.
He was doubtless trying to prove himself to me. ”