Chapter 7
Seven
The remainder of the day passed in a blur of activities, leaving Henry feeling pulled as taut as a violin string.
He updated Reynolds on what Charles Dunn had shared, and with the Director’s approval, ordered a copy of the postmortem report on Walter Dunn.
He sent messages to the elder Mr. Dunn’s physician and his solicitor, requesting meetings as soon as possible, though he didn’t specify exactly why.
He wished to see their reactions when he advised them of the nephew’s suspicions and inquire if they had any of their own.
A visit to Hollowgate Heights to speak with Dr. Cordelia Thorne would have to wait until he gathered as much information as possible—and he didn’t want to give the doctor a warning about the investigation.
And of course, the sanatorium wasn’t the only case on his desk. The jewelry shop owner had sent a list of the more expensive stolen items, along with sketches, so Henry requested a constable inquire at pawn shops in the general vicinity to see if anyone was trying to sell them.
Thank goodness he had Fletcher. His sergeant had departed to speak with Walter Dunn’s friends to see if they’d noted anything different in his demeanor prior to entering the sanatorium, and to try to learn more about the relationship between the deceased man and his nephew.
To Henry’s surprise, Mr. Dunn’s solicitor responded immediately, suggesting Henry come by as he had an opening in his schedule, so he left immediately.
Tobias Barnes kept a small office on Lombard Street in a narrow Georgian building that was somewhat difficult to locate, given the tarnished brass plate with faded lettering which was easy to overlook at first glance.
A clerk viewed Henry’s arrival from his perch at a tall desk where he’d been writing busily.
“Scotland Yard Inspector Henry Field, to see Mr. Barnes,” Henry advised as he showed his warrant card.
The clerk read the card, then looked him up and down as if taking his measure. He slid from his stool, straightening his jacket. “This way, please. Mr. Barnes is expecting you.”
Interesting. Perhaps the solicitor was as anxious to speak with Henry as he was to speak with him.
Mr. Barnes’s office contained a massive desk that dominated the room, shelves of leather-bound legal volumes, and a small table near the window with several chairs around it for friendlier conversations. Coal glowed in the small hearth, keeping out the late spring chill.
“Nice to meet you, Inspector Field.” The solicitor rose from behind the desk to hold out a hand. The small man appeared to be in his forties with a slender build and a head of thick black hair that an overabundance of pomade failed to tame.
“Thank you for seeing me.” Henry shook his hand and again offered his warrant card.
With barely a glance at it, Mr. Barnes gestured toward the chair before his desk. “Please have a seat. Your message mentioned an urgent matter regarding the late Mr. Dunn’s affairs?”
“Yes. I spoke with his nephew, Charles Dunn, who expressed concern about the change in his will prior to his death.”
The solicitor nodded. “He mentioned the same concern to me, of course, and I can’t blame him for his worry. Unfortunately the amendment Walter Dunn signed prior to his death appears to be in order. There can be no doubt it contains his signature.”
“It matches his previous ones?” Though Henry didn’t expect him to say no, he needed more details.
“Not his best, I’d say, but recognizable. A member of the staff at the sanatorium witnessed the signature, so proper legal practice was followed. It’s all in order.”
“Except for the part where Mr. Dunn was dead the following week.” Henry didn’t care for the way the solicitor seemed to brush aside the possibility of something being amiss with his client.
Mr. Barnes grimaced but lifted his hands, palms up. “That is truly unfortunate. But I’m certain you’re aware he had cancer for nearly two years, so it wasn’t completely unexpected.”
“You don’t find the timing concerning?”
“Questionable, yes, but you and I must consider the legalities rather than the emotions behind people’s actions.”
Henry didn’t appreciate the pointed remark. “Do you have any idea why Mr. Dunn might change his mind and give his entire estate to the sanatorium?”
“Perhaps out of gratitude for making his last days more comfortable?” The man shrugged. “Again, that’s not for me to say.”
Comfortable? Henry shifted in his chair at the word. “I don’t think extreme fasting and hydropathy would have made him more comfortable.”
“And that would be considered conjecture in court,” Mr. Barnes said with a condescending smile.
“I beg to differ,” Henry countered, working to keep his temper level. Mr. Barnes was not proving helpful thus far. “How often do clients make sudden changes to their will within weeks of their death?”
The solicitor’s gaze shifted around the room as if he were considering how to answer. “Not often, though those who are ill for periods of time occasionally do.”
Henry tucked the information away to consider later. “Did Mr. Dunn often donate to charitable endeavors?”
The question had Mr. Barnes pausing for a long moment. “Well. Not to my knowledge.”
“One might even think it out of character for him, wouldn’t you say?” Henry suggested politely.
“Perhaps,” the solicitor agreed reluctantly. “Though it’s not illegal, Inspector, for someone to change their mind. My clients often do so.”
“Do you believe the late Mr. Dunn was of sound mind and body, considering the rather harsh treatments the sanatorium offers?”
“He was under professional medical supervision.” The man placed his elbows on the desk and leaned forward, leveling Henry with a glare. “And there is no evidence that suggests he wasn’t of sound mind.”
“Not yet.” Though perhaps unprofessional, Henry rather hoped he was right just so he could prove the annoying Mr. Barnes wrong. The solicitor was being obstinate.
With a scowl he quickly hid, the solicitor leaned back in his chair. “Surely the Metropolitan Police have better things to concern themselves with than the expected death of a man who suffered from cancer, and the complaint of a disgruntled nephew who hoped to inherit?”
“Now that sounds like conjecture.” Henry stood. No assistance would be found here. “Thank you for your time.”
“Of course.” Mr. Barnes also rose, forced to look up to meet Henry’s gaze due to his small stature. “Happy to help.”
Henry nearly scoffed as he turned away since the man had been anything but, only to turn back. “You know, I find myself curious about something.”
“Oh? And what might that be?” The solicitor tugged on the bottom of his jacket.
“Have you other clients who spent time at Hollowgate Heights?”
Mr. Barnes stilled before placing his fingers on his desk. “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to answer such a question.”
That was an answer in itself. “How well acquainted are you with Dr. Thorne?”
He hesitated a moment too long before lifting a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug as if the answer were of no consequence. “We’ve been introduced. Socially. Why?”
“As I said, just curious.” Henry dipped his head. “I’ll be back in touch soon.” Of that he was certain, but first he needed a few more answers.
Henry returned to Scotland Yard and wrote a brief note in the case file about the solicitor, leaving out his suspicions for the time being. Conjecture. However, he was curious about the nature of Mr. Barnes’s relationship with Dr. Thorne and wanted to learn more.
More paperwork, more evidence, more suspects. A possible lead arose in the jewelry theft thanks to the pawnshops and he requested a constable follow up on it, then reviewed another case he’d been assigned. There was always another case.
Yet his thoughts continued to circle around Walter Dunn, trying to imagine what would make the man change his will. He hoped Fletcher discovered something from the man’s friends, especially what his relationship with his nephew had been.
The quiet of the Yard suggested the day was near an end and his pocket watch confirmed it.
Soon those working the night shift would arrive and the bustle would resume.
He tidied his desk, eager for dinner with Amelia.
The idea of telling her the depth of his feelings—that he loved her—had been simmering within him for weeks.
The time had come to act on it. That meant the evening needed to be special.
Henry gathered his things and headed for the door, wanting to make one stop before returning to his lodging house to change for dinner.
He nearly caught himself whistling as he walked, his spirits high at the thought of the evening ahead.
While he didn’t know what Amelia’s reaction would be to his declaration, he hoped she reciprocated his feelings, even if only in part.
A whisper of guilt, followed quickly by doubt, nudged him. Hadn’t he promised not to press her for more than she was ready to give? By telling her of his feelings, wouldn’t he be doing just that?
He shrugged away the worry. If she wasn’t ready to share her feelings, she would say so. She had never lied to him yet. And if that were the case, he hoped she would take his declaration for the gift it was.
A deep breath did little to settle his nerves. Despite them, he would proceed with his plan.
He located his quarry on a street corner, her usual bright red shawl wrapped around her shoulders and a basket of flowers in hand as she called out to passersby.
“Fresh flowers ‘ere!” She paused at the sight of Henry with an amused look. “Ain’t seen you ’round ’ere lately, guv.”
“How’s business?”
She shrugged. “Could be worse. Could be better.” Lines framed her eyes and bracketed her mouth.
She kept a close eye on all around her, which Henry appreciated.
Luckily, she was willing to share what she witnessed in exchange for a coin or two, and had provided helpful information on occasion. “An’ ’ow’s business fer you?”
Henry smiled, appreciating her sense of humor. “Busy, as always.”
“Who are you lookin’ fer this evening?” she asked with narrowed eyes.
He cleared his throat, his gaze shifting to her basket. “Actually, I came to purchase some flowers.”
“Oh?” She grinned, clearly delighted. “Got yerself a lady at last?”
“I do.” Henry took great pride in stating that. “And a special evening ahead. One that requires flowers.”
“Well, well. I’m pleased to hear it.”
“Which ones would you suggest?” He took a step closer to the basket to look over the bundles.
“None of these.” She leaned forward. “Got some fresh ones back ’ere I’ll get fer you.”
“Thank you very much,” Henry responded with surprise.
“Wait right ‘ere.” She turned away, basket in hand, and hurried down an alleyway. Only a few minutes passed before she returned with a dozen red roses wrapped in white paper. “’ere you go. These is fresh cut and will last longer.”
Henry took the offering, pleased by their vivid color. “I appreciate that very much.” He paid what she asked, adding a generous tip.
“’ave a lovely evenin’, sir,” she called out brightly.
“I intend to.” With a tip of his hat, he strode toward his lodging house.
He took care to keep the flowers out of sight of his landlady, not wanting to answer questions about them—or worse, have her misunderstand their intended recipient.
After washing and changing clothes, and with flowers in hand, he walked to Amelia’s home on Bloomsbury Street with his nerves still gripping him tightly. He knocked on the door and greeted Fernsby, whose eyes lit up at the sight of the flowers.
“Good evening, Inspector.” The butler nodded in approval as he took Henry’s coat and hat. “Mrs. Greystone is waiting for you in the drawing room, sir.”
“Excellent.” He hesitated on the first step, wondering if he should tell her what he had to say when he handed her the flowers. Or did he present the flowers then wait until after dinner to tell her?
“Is anything amiss, Inspector?” the butler asked politely.
“No, not at all.” Henry shrugged aside his anxiety, deciding he would follow his instincts as he continued up the stairs.
The sight of Amelia sitting before the fire with a book in hand settled the doubts and questions that had plagued him. He loved her and couldn’t wait to tell her—though he kept the roses behind his back.
“Good evening, Amelia.”
“Henry! I didn’t hear you arrive.” The delight in her expression was more than reassuring. She set aside the book and stood, causing him to notice the furniture had been rearranged.
His heart pounded: they could now sit together in the settee rather than in separate chairs. He had to take that as a good sign. “I hope the evening finds you well.”
“It does.” She moved closer until she stood before him. “And you? How was your day?”
He offered a rueful look, wondering how she’d react to the news about the sanatorium investigation. Knowing her, with questions. “Interesting.”
“Oh?” Her obvious curiosity invited him to share more, but that conversation would have to wait.
Tonight, they came first.
“I’ll tell you more soon enough.” Mouth dry and palms damp, he adjusted his grip on the roses behind his back, deciding now was the time.
Wasn’t it? He detested how uncertain and awkward he felt.
“I look forward to hearing about it.” Her eyes narrowed as she studied him, seeming to sense his uncertainty. “Is…all well?”
“It is. More than well.” He presented the roses in as gallant a move as possible, the moment feeling more uncomfortable than he liked. “I brought you these.”
“Oh!” Her eyes widened as she took the roses. “They’re beautiful! How thoughtful of you.” She held them as if they were a cherished possession before leaning close to draw in their scent. “They smell wonderful. I’m so touched you thought of me—thank you, Henry.”
This was it. This was the moment.
He cleared his throat, fearful the words wouldn’t come out.
Drawing a breath, he took one of her hands to press it gently between his, the contact settling him.
“Amelia, I—I don’t think this will come as a surprise, and I certainly don’t mean to pressure you by any means.
” His mouth was so dry he could barely continue.
“But we’ve always agreed that honesty between us is important. ”
Her puzzled expression suggested he wasn’t doing this right.
Well, what else was there to say?
“I love you,” he whispered, searching her face for a reaction. “I love everything about you. You are courageous, kind, and honest, and I enjoy every moment we spend together. And I hope many more such moments are in our future.”
Honest? Why on earth had he added that? Where were the words he’d so carefully prepared in his mind over the last two weeks?
Tears filled Amelia’s eyes as she stared at him, clearly shocked by his declaration.
Shocked or merely taken aback? Henry couldn’t tell for certain.
His stomach dropped to his knees. Had he ruined everything he’d been hoping for?