Abigail fell onto the armchair in their living room, sinking into its soft cushions, and closed her eyes. She’d had barely three hours’ sleep since she and Daniel had woken on Sunday morning, and everything that had happened, the two attacks by Simon Anstis, and the agony of waiting to find out if Daniel would ever wake, had taken its toll of her. She could just feel herself slipping away, when a knocking at the door pulled her back to reality.
She forced herself up and along the passageway to the door, which she opened to find John Feather and Fred Abberline standing side by side.
‘My God, you look like thinner versions of Tweedledum, and Tweedledee,’ she said.
She led them through to the kitchen, where she filled the kettle and put it on the range. Then she realised the range had gone out.
‘Sorry,’ she apologised, ‘force of habit. Usually Daniel keeps the embers ready to kick into life.’
‘That’s all right,’ said Feather. ‘You sit down, I’ll do the range.’
Gratefully, Abigail sat down, Abberline joining her while Feather set to work to clean out the ashes in the grate and lay the fire.
‘We turned up at the hospital at the same time to see how Daniel was, and were told you’d gone home and that Daniel was recovering, but not allowed visitors,’ said Abberline. ‘So we decided to join forces to fill you in on everything.’
‘The hospital wouldn’t tell us how he was,’ said Feather. ‘How is he?’
‘Recovering, thank God,’ said Abigail. ‘He needs rest, which is why they sent me packing and have stopped all other visitors.What happened with Lord Yaxley?’
‘He’s under lock and key,’ said Feather. ‘We got all the evidence we need from the carriage to prove the bodies were transported in it. Dr Snow was in his element. He took samples of everything. He found tiny grains of sawdust in the carpet, proving that Joe Wallace had been in it. He also found minute traces of bodily fluids, as well as fibres from the clothes both women wore. They may have thought they’d cleaned the inside, but not well enough to hide things from someone like Dr Snow with all his paraphernalia and his microscopes.’ He lifted the ashcan. ‘Where do these go?’ he asked.
‘Outside,’ said Abigail. ‘You’ll see the ash pit. Paper, wood and coal are in the scullery.’
Feather left to dispose of the ashes.
‘By the way, Catherine Heppenstall has turned up,’ Abberline told her.
‘What?’ said Abigail, surprised. ‘Dead?’
‘Very much alive. Emma heard that she turned up at her parents’ house the day before yesterday. I intended to tell you when I saw you before, but what with one thing and another, and Daniel waking up.’
‘Where had she been?’
‘Appearing up north in a travelling show. Liverpool, Manchester, Carlisle, Newcastle. She’s also changed her name. She’s now known as Lola Lamprey.’
‘Why did she come all this way south to see her parents?’
‘I don’t think it was just to see her parents. From what Emma’s heard she came to London to ask Edmund Heppenstall for a divorce. Apparently, she wants to get married to one of her fellow performers. I think she’s hoping for a divorce settlement. So, it’s lucky we didn’t pursue the idea that Heppenstall murdered her.’
‘Daniel was still kicking himself over that,’ sighed Abigail.
‘But he was right about the butcher. And the rich toff behind him. That was great detective work.’
Feather reappeared, carrying a bucket of coal, along with old newspapers and kindling.
‘I’ll soon have this going for you,’ he said, kneeling down beside the grate. ‘I bet you’re desperate for a cup of tea.’
‘I’m more desperate for some sleep,’ yawned Abigail.
Abberline and Feather exchanged looks.
‘Then up you go, lass, and put your head down,’ said Abberline. ‘Me and John will get this range going and make ourselves a cuppa, and then we’ll head off. We’ll lock the front door and pop the key through the letter box.’
‘No, you’ve come all this way, I should be a proper hostess.’
‘You are, but first and foremost you’re a friend. Go on, up you go. We’ve got the main news. We’ll catch up with everything else later.’
Abigail looked at them, gratefully. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what we’d do without you.’
Despite feeling that she’d sleep right through to the next morning, Abigail woke in the middle of the night as the memories of the shooting of Daniel and Anstis’ attacks on him flooded through her mind. Automatically, she reached out across the bed for Daniel, but found only the empty sheet, and suddenly she remembered that he was still at the hospital. But he was alive. Or was he? Fear struck her at the thought that he may have had a relapse, and she had to fight the urge to get out of bed, dress, and hurry to the hospital. No, she told herself. It’s irrational. If anything bad had happened they’d send a message to her.
But would they?
From that moment on, try as she might, she couldn’t sleep. She went downstairs and made herself a cup of tea, silently thanking John Feather for getting the range going. It was another two hours before she felt sleep overtaking her and she headed back to bed, uttering silent prayers that Daniel was still alive.
The first thing she did when she arrived at University College Hospital at half past ten the next morning was to stride up to reception and ask how Mr Daniel Wilson was. There was a heart-stopping moment’s hesitation while the receptionist turned the pages of notes in front of her, then she smiled at Abigail and said: ‘He had a good night. He’s awake. He’s had breakfast.’
Abigail wanted to grab her and kiss her at this news, but instead she restrained herself to a smile of thanks, before heading up the stairs.
Daniel was sitting up in bed, a newspaper open in front of him, and he smiled broadly as Abigail came into the room.
‘Good morning!’ he said. ‘Thank you for saving my life. They told me what you did to Simon Anstis.’
She kissed him, then sat down beside the bed.
‘You’d have done the same for me.’ She noticed a very large bouquet of flowers in a bowl on a side table. ‘Where did the flowers come from?’
‘Ellen Sickert.’
‘She came to see you?’
‘She came, but they wouldn’t let her in. Mr Heppenstall has decreed that I’m only allowed one visitor, you. Any more would hamper my recovery. So she left the flowers with a note. She also, according to the sister, is paying the bills here for my hospitalisation and treatment.’
‘Is that what she says in her note?’
‘No, no mention of it. But the sister told me that she went to see the almoner and made arrangements for all bills regarding my treatment to be sent to her. She feels guilty because of what happened to me, that I was shot because of the case.’
‘Well, she’s right.’
‘Yes, but she doesn’t have to feel guilty over it.’
‘I didn’t bring you any flowers,’ admitted Abigail. ‘In fact, I didn’t bring you anything. I wasn’t sure if they’d allow you to have sweets or fruit.’
‘I don’t need anything except you,’ said Daniel.
‘By the way, Fred Abberline turned up at home yesterday with John Feather. They’ve got all the proof they need that Lord Yaxley drove the carriage on the nights of the murders. Oh, and Catherine Heppenstall has turned up. Only now she’s calling herself Lola Lamprey.’
‘Lola Lamprey? My God. Why?’
‘It’s her new stage name. She’s been with some travelling show in the north of England.’
‘How did you find this out?’
‘Through Fred Abberline. Emma learnt that Catherine came south and visited her parents in Clapham as part of her journey to ask Mr Heppenstall for a divorce.’
‘So I got that wrong,’ said Daniel ruefully.
‘But you got everything else right. Joe Wallace. The mystery rich man, who turned out to be Simon Anstis. Daniel Wilson, detective extraordinaire.’
‘We did it together,’ said Daniel. He looked down at himself ruefully. ‘How long do I have to stay here?’
‘Mr Heppenstall said at least a week, depending on how you heal. Remember, he said that yesterday?’
Daniel shook his head.
‘I don’t remember much about yesterday. Except you being here.’
‘The bullet did a lot of damage. Mr Heppenstall says the main thing you have to do is rest and let your body heal.’ She looked at him carefully as she said: ‘I was wondering if a hospital is the same as a ship.’
‘In what way?’
‘With regard to getting married. The captain of a ship can marry people, I wondered if a matron or someone senior was allowed to do the same.’
‘Get married?’ asked Daniel. ‘Here?’
‘Why not? Things are always getting in the way of us whenever we start thinking about it. You’re not going anywhere any time soon.’
‘I’m not sure if it would be legal.’
‘It is,’ said Abigail. ‘I went to see Sir Bramley Petton about it this morning, and he told me that under the Marriage Act of 1836 it is legal for people to get married in a place other than a recognised place of worship providing a local registration officer is present. There’s a chaplain at the hospital who can conduct the ceremony and, if you’re in agreement, I can ask him if he’d marry us.’
‘Is this a proposal?’ asked Daniel. ‘I mean, a serious proposal?’
‘Yes.’
Daniel looked around the room. ‘We won’t get many people in here.’
‘All we need is us, the chaplain and the registrar, John Feather as best man, and a witness for me.’
‘Your sister, Bella?’
Abigail looked doubtful. ‘I’m not sure she’d approve of the setting.’
‘But she’d be very upset if you didn’t ask her.’
‘So you agree? Us getting married, here?’
‘If the hospital agrees.’
‘I’m sure they would. It would be wonderful publicity for them. The Museum Detectives marry at UCH.’
‘I don’t think they’d care for that. They’d have everyone else wanting to do the same.’
‘Yes, you’re right. So, no publicity.’
He smiled. ‘And, when I get out, we’ll find our new house. Somewhere with indoor plumbing.’
‘Yes,’ she said. She took his hands in hers. ‘This feels like a whole new life starting for us. And I love it.’