Chapter 6

The stream will cease to flow;
The wind will cease to blow;

 

Ainsley left the hospital, wondering if the group of nurses he had encountered earlier would be outside the front doors again. His disappointment surprised him and then he saw Inspector Simms a little farther down, seated on a bench placed against the hospital wall. Ainsley slowed his pace as he approached and wondered if the detective was waiting for him in particular. When Inspector Simms looked right at him, Ainsley received his answer.

“I sent a messenger with your report,” Ainsley said when he was closer.

“Very good but I've been out of the office all day.” The detective motioned for the public house across the street. “Care to join me?”

The pub, a primitive and rowdy place, was busy thanks to the evening hour but Ainsley and Simms were still able to find seats near the back wall. Within minutes they both had a pint of ale in front of them. Ainsley watched as Inspector Simms pulled out a small cigarette case from his inside jacket pocket. He offered one to Ainsley, who politely refused with a shake of his head.

“I thought all doctors smoked?” Simms asked between pressed lips, the brown papered cigarette moving with the words he spoke.

“Most do,” Ainsley answered. “It's a great service in school to have at least one or two students smoking during a dissection.”

Simms struck a match and lit the end of his cigarette. “But not you.”

“Mother would never abide by it. The smell bothers her.”

Simms nodded and pulled the cigarette from his mouth and held it between his index and middle finger as his hand rested on the tabletop. “My wife hates the smell too.” He blew the smoke from his nose and laughed.

“Why did your family not tell me you were a surgeon?” Simms asked.

“Father would prefer I wasn't in any profession. My work at the hospital is only permissible because I agreed to work under the name Ainsley, mother's maiden name.” Ainsley shifted nervously, glancing to the tables around them. “I can not emphasize enough how important your discretion is with this. My father would love nothing more than for me to be relieved of my position.”

Simms raised an eyebrow. “You think it would cost you your position at the hospital?”

“Most certainly. Dr. Crawford constantly reminds us that we are mere labourers, a dime a dozen as there are so many wishing to enter surgical medicine as a way to advance social status. I doubt he would want me working under him if he knew I outranked him in breeding and society.”

“You are unkind,” Simms said, drawing his mug of ale to his mouth.

“I am kinder than most, I am afraid.”

“And arrogant.”

Ainsley contemplated this. “Perhaps.” Ainsley took a drink of his ale, muscling it down and willing himself to ignore the musky odour. He decided he much preferred a whiskey or brandy. Even wine would taste better than the watered down alcohol that filled his mug.

“I have no desire to expose your secret,” Simms said at last.

Ainsley smiled but his elation was short lived.

“I will not protect it, however, especially if it begins to interfere with my investigations.”

“Fair enough,” Ainsley answered with a nod.

Simms blew smoke into the air above them. “Had I known this secret earlier I would have never brought the girl to St. Thomas.”

Ainsley felt a shiver run down his spine, remembering the feeling he had while looking over the shrouded body who was thought to be his mother. He suddenly was very thankful to have Inspector Simms on his side, someone in the field with whom he could share his secret.

“I will do everything I can,” Simms continued, “to help find your mother but I must admit, my trail has run cold.”

Ainsley nodded, suspecting as much. He knew if the detective was not permitted to enquire with friends and extended family, there would be little else he could find. “My father has tied your hands,” Ainsley said, eyeing his drink. He loathed taking another sip of the putrid ale, though he had never needed a drink more.

“Your sister, Margaret, does she know of your chosen profession?” Simms asked.

Peter leaned back into his chair and crossed his arms, “Of course.”

“I only ask because she seemed rather put out yesterday when I questioned her.”

“You'll have to forgive us. We are not often questioned by the police.” Ainsley laughed nervously, his arrogance unchecked.

“Of course,” Simms conceded. “It's only... I am afraid I rattled her some during my questioning. I would have expected someone of her nature to be more honest and forthcoming.”

“Do you suspect my sister was anything but honest?” Ainsley asked incredulously.

Inspector Simms avoided Ainsley's stare while he placed the cigarette to his mouth. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do,” he answered. He lifted his eyes meeting Ainsley's squarely. “I am going to try to help you, but you and your family need to start being honest with me.”

There was a silence between them for some time. Ainsley swallowed, and stared at the liquid in his mug.

“Judging by your silence, I believe I have hit the nail on the head, as they say.”

Ainsley shook his head. “Quite the opposite actually. I believe it is my right to protect the interests of my family. My sister has yet to marry, my brother as well. How do you feel it will reflect on them to have our family so closely scrutinized?”

“How will they feel to learn their mother died because we could not get to her in time?” Simms raised an eyebrow.

Ainsley looked away, his mind caught in a fishnet of emotions not knowing which way to turn. His mother was gallivanting, most likely with her lover in some seaside village, not caring for the turmoil she left in her absence. He had pitied her once, while he journeyed back to London, believing she had befallen some horrible end most likely at the hands of his father, but now he saved his pity for no one and realized both man and wife had a part to play. The real victims would be Daniel and Margaret whose place in proper society would be tarnished permanently.

The pub was busy given the evening hour and the below seasonal temperature outside. The barmaid weaved carefully through the crowd, protecting her tray with her free hand. Ainsley watched, unwittingly, as she moved through a cluster of inebriated customers. And then Ainsley noticed one of the women who was a part of the group she served. Was that his mother? She smiled at him and Ainsley meant to call her name but the barmaid blocked his view as she approached them. The young doctor stood up suddenly and walked passed the barmaid, mindful of her tray.

The crowd seemed to swell filling in his previous line of sight. It was her. He knew it had been. He walked the floor, squeezing between hard pressed bodies, and surveyed each table in turn. If she had been there he could not see her anymore. He turned in place, searching the room for her.

“What is it, Doctor Ainsley?”

Ainsley turned at the sound of his name and realized he was back at the table where he had left Inspector Simms.

“My apologies, sir,” Ainsley said.

“You thought you saw her?”

Ainsley gave him a look of surprise, wondering how the officer could have known what it was he thought he saw. “You said 'Mother’,” Simms explained, “Just now.”

“Did I?”

Simms nodded.

Ainsley reached into his pocket and pulled out some shillings, laying them on the table for the barmaid. “I must take my leave,” Ainsley said, eyeing the mug of ale and wondering if he should bother downing the last mouthful. In the end he decided against it.

“One last thing, Dr. Ainsley,” Simms said, before Ainsley could turn. “Would you mind meeting me tomorrow morning?” he asked, “I'd like you to see where we found the body of the woman I brought you today.” Simms looked at him in earnest, his hand resting on the tabletop, the cigarette letting off a thin ribbon of smoke into the air.

Ainsley raised an eyebrow, impressed at the detective’s ability to read his thoughts from earlier. He had to admit this was not his expertise but the challenge enticed him all the same. It could certainly bring new light to the circumstances leading to the woman's death. He felt a slight smile on his lips as he thought over the prospect.

“Just meet me at the boarding house in the morning,” Simms said with a slight chuckle.

“All right then. See you in the morning. Have a good evening, sir.” Ainsley shook the detectives hand firmly before plucking his hat from the table and turning to leave.

 

 

There was a marked chill in the air that evening, enough to cause clouds of breath to hover in Ainsley's face when he exhaled. He pulled his collar higher up on his neck and tied his scarf in an effort to keep out the cold. It was the first night he had considered taking a carriage, if only to cocoon him from the wind and get him to his destination that much quicker. But then the young doctor thought better of it. There would be colder days to come and he would rarely get a chance to walk when they did. His brother's new address was only a few blocks away, once he crossed the bridge.

As he walked he kept his face to the ground and his shoulders hunched against the wind. He did not notice a couple, a man and a woman tightly clinging to each other crossing the bridge and walking toward him. He finally heard their footsteps as they approached and lifted his gaze. He moved to the side when they were just a few paces from him to let them pass and heard the woman laugh.

Mother.

He stopped to study them as they passed. The woman's happy expression fell when her eyes met his. Recognition perhaps?

“Mother, wait!” he called out. He reached for her shoulder and she turned before he touched her. It was not her. Nor did it look anything like her. This woman's hair was curly and red whereas his mother's was warm brown. Her face was far to freckled as well, enough so that Ainsley wondered how he could have thought there was a resemblance at all.

“My apologies ma'am,” he said humbly.

Thankfully the couple turned, no doubt laughing at his confusion, and the man did not take offence to Ainsley reaching for his partner. Ainsley saw his mother three more times during his walk, each time believing the face he saw was more real than the last but of course it was never her. Like the dead child who had appeared to him numerous times while he was in the north, taunting him daily for not having found her killer, Lady Charlotte Marshall appeared briefly each time and then was gone leaving him to wonder if he had taken complete leave of his senses.

By the time he arrived at his brother's new home, Ainsley was chilled both inside and out, suddenly aware of the foreboding nature of the darkened city at night. He was surprised when his own brother, Lord Daniel Marshall, heir to their father's earldom, opened the door, not a servant or butler in sight.

“Hello Daniel,” Ainsley said, a slight smile on his face. Daniel was taller than Ainsley, though not by much and his hair was just the slightest touch more brown compared to Ainsley's near black tresses. Despite those two close similarities, everything else about them was entirely different. Where Ainsley had a strong, angular jaw and dark blue eyes, Daniel had brown eyes and softer features that he hid behind a precisely trimmed handlebar moustache.

Despite his subtle features, Daniel's demeanor was that much more resolute and defined, a sharp contrast to Ainsley's constant philosophical questioning as if never convinced he had found the answers he sought. Life seemed so much simpler for Daniel, the eldest son and heir to their family's large fortune. Everything had been laid out for him and so, Ainsley thought, it was only natural that his brother should be so definitive in mood and action. His brother was also more arrogant than self-assured Ainsley and it pleased him to see Daniel humbled enough to answer his own door.

“Have you added butler to your curriculum vitae?” Ainsley asked.

“Your attempt at humour is duly noted, though I am not amused.” Daniel stepped aside allowing Ainsley to exit the damp, biting cold. Ainsley laughed slightly to himself as he removed his coat and adjusted the collar of his jacket. “I had to let my butler go,” Daniel explained, “He...was not to be trusted it seems. Especially in these times of trial.” Daniel gave Ainsley a strained look and Ainsley knew what he meant.

“Any word of Mother?” Ainsley asked, wondering who would receive word first, his brother who was no longer living in the family home or Ainsley who was so often absent from it he might as well be.

Daniel shook his head. “No. I had hoped you would bring news.”

“I have been at the hospital all day,” Ainsley confessed. “I haven't even stopped home.”

Ainsley thought he saw the hint of a sneer on his brother’s face at the mention of the hospital where he worked. Both his brother and father saw eye to eye in regards to Ainsley's profession, neither one caring to hide their contempt.

“It would appear that the man I hired caught wind of our family's troubles and I heard him on the stoop at the servant’s entrance speaking with the men from the coal company.” Ainsley could hear the stress and strain in the way his brother spoke, angered and yet resigned. “I fear it will not be a private family matter for long.”

“Father was amiss when he believed he could keep this a secret,” Ainsley said. He hung up his own coat, saving his brother the indignity. “My bet is half of London has heard of it, and the other half will have by sun up, and not because of the indiscretion of your hired man.”

“Even so,” Daniel said with a long, drawn out exhale, “I could not keep him on if he can not prove his loyalty.”

“Perhaps Father will let you borrow Billis to help you search,” Ainsley suggested.

“I doubt Father would part with him any more than I could see Billis separated from that house. He's just as reliable as the furniture.”

Ainsley took a moment to survey the foyer, his gaze rising with the cathedral ceiling and then tracing the curved mahogany bannister back down. The walls, painted canary yellow, were bare except for white mouldings and flourishes. The large crystal chandelier just above their heads looked an entire storey high and half as wide. The marble floor they stood on gleamed with perfection only a handful of people having walked on its surface since it was laid. It was clear Daniel had just moved in, and had barely a stick of furniture to his name.

“Construction is still being done,” Daniel said apologetically. “Upstairs mostly but the lower floors are complete. Evelyn picked the flooring and the wall colour.”

“Evelyn?”

“Yes, of course,” Daniel looked at him incredulously. “Didn't father tell you?”

Ainsley surmised what was to be said next and did not wait for his brother to explain. “You are to be married,” Ainsley said. “I had not realized you were on the market for a house and now I see you were on the market for a wife as well.”

“What better reason to buy a house?” his brother asked with a slight shrug.

“What better reason to run for the hills!” Ainsley said, only half in jest. “And Father approves of this?”

Daniel laughed and began leading his younger brother to one of the rooms off the hall, his hard-heeled boots thudding on the floor with a marked timing. “He was the one who suggested it.”

Ainsley followed, his hands clasped behind his back. “Lord help you both,” he muttered. He could no more imagine his brother a dutiful husband than he could imagine himself in that role. Thankfully though, his brother did not hear his disparaging remark.

Daniel had led Ainsley into what would most likely end up as the parlour, the formal room to receive and entertain guests. Though not as spacious as the parlour at the family home in Belgravia, Ainsley could tell that this room, with its gas sconces and marble fireplace, would awe many who entered. There was a single wing-backed chair, and a delicately upholstered sofa, both of matching velvet cloth arranged in the center of the room. A small table was placed between them in front of the massive fireplace, a gold clock displayed prominently on the mantle. With due time that room would swell with belongings, wedding gifts and acquisitions in the first years of marriage, all displayed for visitors as if they were a material representation of the couple's success. Ainsley had to suppress a groan when the thought reached him.

“I have to admit, I wasn't keen at first,” Daniel explained, “but—”

A figure appeared at the door from which they had just walked and when Ainsley turned he saw it was a woman, slight and poised, blonde and pale. “Daniel, what colour did I say for the paper in your room—? Oh, my apologies, I did not realize you were entertaining.” She raised a hand to her chest and smiled.

As Evelyn walked across the room to greet them formally, Daniel leaned in to Ainsley and whispered in his ear, “She does not know about Mother and I'd like to keep it that way for now.” Ainsley nodded, wondering how he had become ensnared in their first marital secret. Ainsley assumed any talk of his true profession was meant to be kept off of the table as well. Keeping an even smile on his face Ainsley turned to the woman approaching them.

“This is my brother, Peter, and I hardly need to entertain him,” Daniel explained. “Peter, this is Evelyn Weatherall.”

When Evelyn reached Ainsley she held her hand in front of her, which Ainsley took and raised to his lips.

“My you resemble your father!” Evelyn said of Ainsley. “It's like looking at a living portrait from his youth. Don't you agree Daniel?” Evelyn kept her gaze on Ainsley as he gave a sideways glance to Daniel, wondering why he had been spared the curse of such a claim.

“Very much so,” Daniel agreed, with a slight laugh, “Though I doubt Peter wishes for such a comparison.”

“Oh,” Evelyn again raised her hand to her chest, “do forgive me. I meant no harm.”

“Of course not,” Ainsley answered. “You may come to any conclusions you wish. I hear that you are to become my sister. Allow me to congratulate you both.” All of Ainsley's previous disapproval vanished as he spoke. He began to see Evelyn, sweet and demure, as a young woman entitled to a bit of marital fantasy before heading to the church. “I am sure you will both find due happiness.”

Evelyn blushed crimson. “The announcement in the papers has resulted in many congratulations. And Mother has been beside herself preparing the engagement dinner.”

Ainsley smiled on the outside but inside he wondered at the timing of it all. Had Evelyn known of the lack of success between her fiance's parents, would she be so willing to enter into matrimony with him? Perhaps. If Evelyn was apprised of their mother's disappearance would she be so enthusiastic about entering into the family? Ainsley thought not. Nonetheless Ainsley dared not say anything, whatever Daniel's reasons were for keeping it from her.

“Sounds lovely,” Ainsley said with formality.

He must have looked dubious because Daniel cleared his throat and looked uneasy for the first time since Ainsley had arrived. “Are you heading home then?” Daniel asked.

Evelyn looked to the doorway and that is when Ainsley first noticed her lady's maid standing just beyond the threshold, with what appeared to be her mistress' cape in her hands. “Yes, shortly,” Evelyn admitted. “I'm afraid I have worn out Esmie,” she gestured to her maid. “She has been rather spoiled in my father's house. She is not used to such late nights.”

Daniel sighed. “You pay too much heed to the demands of servants,” he said with a slight laugh. “They are employed because of our demands, we should not cater to theirs.”

Evelyn laughed, and slapped him playfully. Daniel himself looked quite impressed at his own remark but Ainsley could not help but sneer. No wonder his brother could not garner loyalty from his staff, he showed them none in return.

Ainsley and Daniel walked Evelyn to the hallway.

“There is still much to be done,” Evelyn said, turning in place to allow her maid to lay her cape on her shoulders. Evelyn clasped the brass button on the front herself as her maid adjusted the shoulders. “I am meeting the seamstress in the morning to choose draperies and I was wondering which paper colour we had decided on for the master chamber.”

Daniel didn't bother to give the question any thought. He simply shrugged. “I can not say,” he answered quickly. “I am sure you will choose well.”

Evelyn's smile faded slightly as she took in his indifference. “Very well,” she said, “I will simply reorder more if they are the wrong shade.”

Ainsley noted a hint of challenge in her voice, but his brother paid no heed.

“If you think it best,” he answered absently.

Evelyn stared at Daniel for a few minutes, blinking but otherwise not moving. Ainsley thought perhaps she was realizing the true nature of the man she had agreed to marry. It was as if the vision she held for her future had just changed with those sentences he had uttered.

“Will I see you in the morrow?” she asked, returning to her previous cheerful disposition.

“No, I should think not,” Daniel answered. “I have a committee meeting to attend at the House and I shall be gone all day. The housekeeper Miss Penny will let you in.”

“If she hears my knock,” Evelyn said almost under her breath.

“Then you shall have to knock harder,” Daniel nearly hissed.

Ainsley felt as if he were witness to some act of indecency. Evelyn's maid looked uneasy as well at the forced exchange between the betrothed pair. It was never a good sign when things began with such stress and strain and yet here they were, fighting as if it weren't a fight at all.

“It was nice to meet you, Peter,” Evelyn said, giving him a nod and genuine smile.

“And you as well,” Ainsley answered with a deeper bow than he would normally give.

Daniel opened the door for both fiancée and maid, and the two brothers stood in the relative warmth of the uninhabited house while the women stepped out into the misty night to the carriage that waited at the kerb.

With the women gone Ainsley turned to his brother, who was already quickly retreating to the parlour.

“Is an engagement party wise?” Ainsley asked hurrying to catch up to Daniel. “Given the circumstances.”

“The invitations had already been delivered,” Daniel said, his tone markedly angry. “Father wishes to keep things business as usual.” Once in the parlour, Daniel headed straight for the liquor cabinet, a decanter of wine and four empty crystal glasses arranged next to it. Without a moment's hesitation, Daniel poured two glasses. Daniel grimaced as he handed one to his brother. “I have never known you to refuse a drink, brother.”

Ainsley took it, sipping gingerly while his brother downed the glass in one gulp. He quickly filled his glass again.

“Why do you keep it from her?” Ainsley asked.

“Do you expect me to air all of our family laundry?” Daniel asked. He shook his head. “She will find out when the time comes.”

“When she is married and the law is not on her side,” Ainsley said with a hint of bitterness. A girl such as Evelyn did not deserve a fate such as his brother. She seemed sweet enough, too sweet to be paired with the likes of him.

“When has the law ever sided with women?” Daniel asked, eyeing his wine. “You will quickly learn, brother, what is not freely given to a man, a man can freely take. If I choose to keep my fiancée in the dark about our mother's deplorable behaviour that is my prerogative. I am sure she has a few skeletons of her own.”

Ainsley looked to the door, as if able to see Evelyn there once more. “And if she doesn't? If she is just a pawn in your and Father's grand political scheme?”

“It will be regrettable but not insurmountable. Whose side are you on Peter?” Daniel asked, refilling his glass once more.

Ainsley paused for a moment, thinking over his brother's question. He had once been feverishly on Mother's side, defending her as if his life depended on it. He felt she had been harshly treated by his father and was given no choice to remain at the country estate. It did not help that his father was equally harsh on Ainsley, demanding him to give up his medical studies numerous times and threatening to cut him off from any inheritance. Ainsley had scoffed at him then, determined that none of his threats could put a chink in his armour. If his mother could defy their father, then so could he, Ainsley reasoned. And so a fierce battle ensued where the pair would not speak for weeks at a time. Both were determined to win.

And then Margaret discovered that their mother had a lover. She used the country house as their hideaway until Margaret arrived unannounced, catching them in the very act. It was horrible for Margaret and doubly so for Ainsley who had once revered their mother as if she were a saint. Confused and bewildered Ainsley had no firm understanding of who was in the wrong; his father who berated his mother and drove her from him, or his mother who sought refuge illegally in the arms of another man.

“I don't take sides,” Ainsley said after much thought.

Daniel laughed, heartily and deep. “It is not my fault Mother could not keep chaste for Father's sake. Had she not run off like a harlot I wouldn't need to break trust with Evelyn now would I?”

Ainsley winced at his brother's choice of words. “No need for mud slinging,” he said, aghast. “Mother is not a harlot.”

“No?” Daniel seemed surprised at Ainsley's defense of their mother. “What would you call it then?”

“A woman injured and alone seeking a small measurement of happiness.”

“In the arms of another man?”

“How sure are you that Father has not done it to Mother?” Ainsley asked. “In all the years they’ve spent apart, he never had a mistress? I'm told all in the House of Lords indulge themselves regularly. We have enough whore houses in London to prove my point.” Ainsley took a large gulp of his wine, thankful the taste was a might bit better than the ale at the pub.

Daniel looked genuinely annoyed. “If he did, and I am not convinced he has, then the law is on his side to do so. A woman is to be loyal and virtuous.”

“And a man is to be wanton and a brute?”

“If he needs to be.”

Ainsley regarded his brother steadily. He was on his fourth glass and Ainsley could tell he was loosening under its affects. Appalled, Ainsley set down his glass. After the day he had had, and the new found fears he held for the safety of their mother, he was in no mood for contentious debate on any issue, especially if he was to fight with an unreasonable man.

“And if something has happened to Mother?” Ainsley asked, almost against his will. He knew he should leave but could not stop himself from asking this question. “Would Mother deserve such an end?”

“With the way she has behaved, scandalously and with no care for the family name, I say good riddance. Father is better off without worrying about her loyalty.”

Ainsley swallowed, biting his tongue to prevent any forthcoming outburst. It was clear his brother saw their mother, and all women for that matter, as objects to be controlled by force and coercion. Any deviation from his expectation cuts them off entirely.

“You, brother, need to stop defending her,” Daniel continued, pointing one finger at Ainsley while the rest clutched his crystal glass. “Your approval gives her strength to continue her horrific behaviour.”

“She doesn't need my strength. She has more than enough of her own.” Ainsley said through clenched teeth, willing himself to remain calm though every cell within him wanted to halt his brother's tirade.

“If she were my wife I would have put her in her place a long time—”

“Is that what Evelyn has to look forward to?” Ainsley asked, his voice becoming loud. “Regular beatings by the one who is supposed to protect her?”

Daniel smiled crookedly. “If need be.”

“Good God!” Ainsley no longer bothered to hide his disgust. “Father has done an injustice to you, raising you to be—”

“A man! Which is more than I can say for you.” Daniel laughed too loudly, the wine making him self-righteous. “Mother has made you soft.”

Perhaps Daniel was right, at least in part. Ainsley had noticed a distinct difference between him and the rest of his medical school classmates who were all against women in the medical field, saying they were weak and not suited to such tragic work. Ainsley knew better. Margaret had seen him in his morgue, watched him work on the bodies of children even, and never made a peep. She had not vomited as many of those would-be surgeons did on their first day in the operating theatre. If she were an example of female fortitude then women could be just as tough as men. Daniel, however, had not seen this side of Margaret, in fact no one else in the family knew and so he still bought into their father's belief that women were inferior.

“Mother has made me human,” Ainsley said after a pause.

Daniel sneered and it was in that moment that Ainsley realized why he had chosen to take his mother's maiden name for his profession. He could have easily made up a name, chosen one from a thousand common names in England. It was clear Ainsley identified more with his mother than his father and perhaps secretly he wished Lord Marshall was just a man his mother had married, and was not his father at all. Maybe that was why he and his brother were so different.

“I can see you are quite busy,” Ainsley said at last, glancing over the empty room and the now empty wine decanter. Ainsley placed his glass on the table next to the decanter.

“Thank you for stopping by, brother,” Daniel said, taking another sip from his glass. His tone denoted a marked unease between them.

A few minutes later Ainsley was pulling his collar up over his neck and huddling against the biting night wind. He was sickened by the words exchanged between his brother and he, and even the long, cold walk home was not enough to shake his feeling of unease.