CHAPTER THIRTY

It was past ten o’clock by the time Murdoch arrived at Enid’s lodgings. He almost expected her to have gone to bed, but there was a light showing at her window. Having no desire to rouse Mrs. Barrett at this hour, he made a snowball and threw it at the window. Immediately, the curtain was pushed aside and Enid waved at him, mimed to him to be quiet, and disappeared to open the front door.

Neither spoke as he entered the house and Enid’s welcome was decidedly on the cool side. He went to kiss her, but she avoided him with more warning mimes. Murdoch felt a stab of guilt as it was obvious Enid had been anticipating his arrival for a long time.

She closed the door to her sitting room behind them with a little snap.

“I was worried, Will. I expected you at five o’clock.”

He didn’t remember specifying a particular time but certainly ten o’clock was well past arrival time.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been working on a case and I had to trudge all over the city to do my interviews. Is Alwyn asleep?”

“Most certainly, he is. He tried to stay up as late as eight o’clock to see you, but he couldn’t.”

Another little piece of fiery coal on his head. Murdoch thought Enid had got the matter of reproaches down to a fine art.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated.

They were keeping their voices low, which made it difficult to have a flaming row although Murdoch felt that’s what Enid wanted.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” she asked with excessive politeness. “You must be cold and hungry.”

Coward that he was, Murdoch didn’t feel like explaining he was still full of pig’s feet stew so he just shook his head.

“I’m not hungry, but tea would be nice, thank you.”

Enid went to the fireplace to fetch the kettle. While she was making the tea, trying to create a distraction to ease the tension and also because he needed her help, Murdoch took his notebook from his inner pocket.

“Enid, I’ve solved that issue of the anonymous letters. Sergeant Seymour is involved with a labour organization, which he’s not allowed to be, and the letter writer knows about it. I don’t want Charlie to lose his job, so I’ve decided to see if I can scare off the fellow. Will you type something for me?”

“Surely you don’t mean tonight? I might wake Mrs. Barrett.”

“I doubt that. Isn’t this the evening she spends with her sister.”

Enid blushed fiercely at being caught in her little lie, and Murdoch thought he’d made matters worse by tripping her up like that. He reached over and pulled her gently into his arms.

“Please don’t punish me, Mrs. Jones. I am so happy to see you and if there had been any way of informing you I would be late, I would have done so.”

She leaned against him stiffly, not yet ready to yield, but he didn’t let go, nuzzling his chin against her hair. Finally she turned her head and looked into his face. He was surprised to see she had tears in her eyes.

“Oh, William, I wish it could have been otherwise.”

He knew she didn’t mean just the tardiness of his visit but there was nothing he could say. If he made her a proposal of marriage, she would have to return to Wales first and even though with her in his arms he was hot with desire, he knew that he could not pretend a depth of feeling he didn’t have. Again he was twisted with guilt, and he kissed her urgently to compensate. She responded slowly at first but more and more passionately. Finally she was the one who broke off the embrace. The brightness in her eyes was unbearable and he reached for her again but she caught his arms.

“Alwyn is fast asleep. If we stay here he is less likely to hear us.”

She went to the door, turned the key in the lock, and practically ran back to him. He drew her to the hearth and they lay down on the rug. A bed would have been more comfortable but at that moment Murdoch would have been happy to lie on bricks.

 

Because of the urgency in both of them, the connection was over rather more quickly than he wanted but they nevertheless lay for a while on the rug, until, arm aching, he levered himself into a sitting position. She stayed there with her head on the cushion he had pulled down when they started. He’d loosened her hair and it hung untidily about her face. She was flushed and he saw that her cheek was reddened from rubbing against the roughness of his chin. She smiled up at him.

“Did you say you had some work you wanted me to do?”

They both laughed, which led to more kisses.

Finally, he leaned back and grabbed his notebook.

“I wrote it out.”

She yawned and, pulling on her robe, got to her feet and went over to the typewriter. She sat down, inserted a clean sheet of paper in the machine.

“I’m ready, sir.”

He placed the notebook where she could see it. She read through what he’d written and glanced over her shoulder at him in surprise.

“Goodness me, is this true?”

He shrugged. “It could be.”

“Is it addressed to anybody in particular?”

“Inspector Brackenreid.”

She grinned. “I see. What’s sauce for the goose is good for the gander.”

“Precisely.”