Chapter 3 #2
The proverbial hellion, it seemed.
“Both attended university. As I remember Anthony was off to Cambridge, then into the family banking at Crofts, while Thomas chose Oxford and studied the law.”
“It seems that, for all they were identical twins, they were quite different,” I commented.
“I do remember something Thomas said at that holiday party that surprised me,” my sister continued.
“Anthony was there as well, the life of the party, as they say. Thomas made the comment that his brother needed to amend his ways, or one day he would find himself in a situation their father couldn’t save him from.
He mentioned something about the wrong son to carry on the family name. ”
Jealousy? A natural rivalry? Perhaps a little of both?
I stayed until the children were both up from their naps. My niece was a delight, with dark red hair and devilish blue eyes, while her brother had dark hair and soft brown eyes like his father. I was soon down on the floor in the parlor playing with them.
Young James, named for his father, gurgled with delight as I rolled a tennis ball for him. He had just started to crawl and put a great deal of effort into retrieving it.
“He’ll be walking in no time, and all I will be doing will be chasing after one or the other,” Linnie commented.
“Perhaps you should consider a nanny,” I suggested. “It would be a shame to give up your painting. And it would do both of them considerable good to see their mother with interests beyond the walls of the house.”
“And perhaps take myself off on some travel in the process, such as yourself?”
It was a familiar topic. While Linnie had been conforming to the rules of society for one of our class, I had taken myself off to Egypt, connected with an expedition on its way to the pyramids, and lived in a tent.
“And now about to embark on a new adventure,” she added. “Inquiry Services for ladies? I do wonder what Mr. Brodie might think of that.”
“He does support me in making the usual inquiries.” I didn’t mention his initial reaction to my suggestion about an agency for women.
“Aunt Antonia is most supportive as well and most anxious to partake in a case.”
Linnie stared at me in horror. “You cannot seriously consider allowing her to participate? At her age? Mikaela, do be serious. You must find a way to dissuade her,” she protested.
Easier said than done.
I returned to the office on the Strand after leaving my sister’s residence. Mr. Cavendish appeared and announced that Brodie had returned earlier.
“He’s been gone now since early of the morning,” he informed me. “Said it would be late before he returned.”
So, it began.
I had no way of knowing where this new ‘arrangement’ would lead. Yet, for the time being I would continue as usual. I had made the commitment to Lady Ellsworth. The least I could do was to make inquiries and see what might be learned.
I thanked Mr. Cavendish and took the lift to the second-floor landing. Upon entering the office, I removed my long coat and hung it on the coat rack with my umbrella in the stand. I then went to my desk. There were notes I needed to make on the chalkboard.
I had turned on the electric as I arrived, the usual shadows familiar. Except for one, as I looked over at his desk.
It was amazing how little things seemed to leap out at me now, the small details of our work together.
The chill in the office as I went to the stove, retrieved more coal, then lit it.
The faint sound from the window in the glaring silence as the rain began.
The door ajar to the adjacent bedroom and the memory of when Brodie brought me there after I was injured in that first inquiry case, and ‘other memories’ over the handful of years since. And the smell of pipe tobacco.
His presence at the desk, as I imagined him lost in thought over some aspect of a case. Then the way he looked up, that dark gaze catching mine as he reached for my hand. And another memory.
“Wot are ye thinkin’, lass?”
What other man would even bother to ask me that?
The light knock on the door brought me back to the present. There was only one person who knocked in that manner, a habit of living on the street where stealth had kept him alive. Followed by a familiar whine from the hound.
“Do come in, Mr. Cavendish.”
The door opened, and the hound bounded across the office toward my desk, then to the table where Brodie and I might take a meal when working late on a case. With no food to be found, Rupert sat on the floor, head cocked to one side in what I might have described as criticism.
I had been around animals, including my father’s hunting hounds, almost before I could walk and had learned their expressions, manners, and habits.
It could be said that Rupert was somewhat of a scoundrel, not given to the usual manners, yet he was loyal almost to a fault.
As long as there was a biscuit or cookie to be had.