Chapter 29

 

The following day at midday, when he could cry no more, Ainsley placed a decanter of brandy in the middle of his desk and then spent the next hour sitting in his chair staring at it. It had been a long while since he sought the comfort of drink. For a time he had believed he could live a life without it. But by suppertime he was drunk and remained so for several days.

He made sure he was sober the day of Delilah’s trial, however. Summoned as a witness, Ainsley went as Mr. Peter Marshall, son of the Earl of Montcliff, speaking on behalf of his father, who had hired the lady’s maid, and himself, who had befriended her. As he sat in the witness box, giving testimony, he kept his gaze locked on Delilah, who wept. She was sure to hang.

Behind her in the gallery sat Mrs. Calvin and Thaddeus, both stoic and unaffected, even as the judge placed the black cloth over his wig and delivered his judgement. The terrified shrieks from Delilah were not enough to move her mother to tears.

Simms was waiting for Ainsley outside the Old Bailey, staying clear of the mass exodus of people, who had come for the entertainment only a murder trial could provide.

“It is done then?” Simms asked, tucking his notebook into an inside pocket.

“Not to my liking,” Ainsley answered. He scanned the crowd that milled about and spotted Thaddeus helping his mother into the carriage at the kerb. “He should have to die in the same manner in which he killed those women.”

“If only it were that simple,” Simms said. “An hour after you left the station a man arrived claiming he had done the entire thing himself, with Sergeant Fisher’s help. The shoeprint Margaret found matches Sergeant Fisher’s. He confessed that Thaddeus knew nothing of his little side business.”

“But the women in the attic?”

“I showed them all pictures. None of them recognized Thaddeus. They knew of him and there were rumours of what he was doing but none were witnesses to it. He has that entire street locked in by his charm.”

“You mean his money.”

Simms shrugged. “That too.”

“And Cooper? Is he torn up about Delilah?”

“He swears he knew nothing. Says she asked him a lot of questions about his work but he assures me he said nothing. Thaddeus may have been preparing to pay him off too.” Simms slipped his hands into his trouser pockets and looked to the skyline, where the dome of St. Paul’s peeked out over the courthouse. “Cooper’s been transferred out of the city, where I have people keeping an eye on him just to be sure. He may be back one day.”

Ainsley nodded.

“There’s something else, Peter.” Simms stopped short and scratched his temple with his thumbnail.

“What is it?” He could tell there was something more, something serious the detective wished to say. Ainsley followed his gaze and saw that Thaddeus had never entered his carriage. Instead, he stood there on the pavement, watching them without any care if they saw.

Simms squinted against the sun and turned to walk away. “Follow me.”

They walked two blocks before turning a corner and heading down a narrow side street. Trolleys of coal, buckets of ash, and piles of misshapen iron littered the cobbles outside a large arched door. The heat of the place radiated out to the inspector and doctor as they slowed their pace. With sweat forming on his temples, Simms turned and pulled his hand from his pocket.

Ainsley’s heart skipped at the sight of the G. & J. Deane pistol.

“I picked this up at the warehouse,” Simms said. He held it flat in his palm and offered it to Ainsley. “Thought you’d like to have it back.”

For a moment Ainsley just looked at it, afraid of what would happen if he held it once again. The pistol had shattered his life twice. Having it so close again quickened his heart rate and made him queasy.

Slowly, Ainsley reached out his hand for it and then realized what Simms had intended him to do.

With the pistol in his hands, Ainsley nodded to the workman, who tipped his cap at Simms and then stepped aside from his hot, roaring furnace. Simms stood back as Ainsley stepped forward, still staring at the weapon in his hands. The first time he had held it, the etched pictures on the side of the metal looked benign and almost whimsical, but now, in the shadowy, orange light, they looked maniacal and sinister. The steel, brass, and wood in his hand had been responsible for wounding one person and killing another. And its very existence continued to plague him.

With a hard swallow, Ainsley tossed it into the furnace’s open gate and watched the yellow and orange flames consumed it whole.

With that, the gun was gone.

 

A few weeks later, Margaret insisted they retreat to The Briar. “Now that the improvements are finished,” she said, “a gathering of friends will be just the thing to make it a lovely home for Aunt Louisa and her boys. I don’t intend for it to be extravagant, but I’ve invited a few friends for a small dinner party.”

Ainsley wasn’t pleased at the idea but did not fight it. His only stipulation was that Lucy must go with them as well.

“Of course,” Margaret said with a soft smile.

 

The improvements made to the Marshalls’ country home had exceeded expectations. The new roof, wallpapers, and plaster had transformed a very weary country home into its full splendor once again. The transition had done a great deal to erase the tragedies of the past and remake the Marshall’s house anew.

At first, Ainsley hid in his room. The only obligation that succeeded in pulling him from his sorrow was Lucy, who gave him much joy and satisfaction to the daily sadness he faced.

One week after their arrival, Margaret stopped suddenly at his door. “The dinner gong has sounded.”

Ainsley and Lucy were sprawled out on the floor with a set of wooden blocks to entertain them.

“You haven’t dressed,” Margaret said from the door. She glanced to the suit Cutter had freshly pressed and laid out for him. “Our friends have started arriving.”

“I apologize, but your soiree is of no interest to me. That is a very fetching gown, however. Did you invite Blair?”

“Oh my goodness, Peter, what a way to divert the conversation.”

A chambermaid arrived at the door behind her. Margaret pointed her to Lucy and the maid immediately went to her and scooped her up.

“Don’t—”

“Lucy has to make an appearance too and she needs to get dressed.” Margaret tilted her head to the side. “Please, just come for half an hour. If you don’t like the conversation or the guests you can just leave.”

“Goodness.” Ainsley pulled himself up from the floor.

“Oh, just do it. I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

As he dressed, Ainsley became suspicious of his sister’s insistence. When he spied Winifred Talbot in the foyer as he came down the stairs he suspected the entire dinner was a plot to get them reacquainted. The thought alone was enough to want to make Ainsley turn on his heels and head back upstairs. Only a month had passed since Julia’s death and his ability to function as he had before still eluded him.

“Hello, Peter,” Winifred said as he neared the bottom of the stairs. “Margaret said you would be here.”

“I’m not sure what Margaret told you to expect but I’m—”

“Still in mourning? I know.” Winifred smiled at her own cleverness. “She was just a maid, though, yes?”

It pained him to think Julia could be seen so plainly. She was more than just a maid, at least to him. He decided to change the subject. “I’d like to apologize for my behaviour last year,” he began, keeping his voice low. “It was never my intention to hurt you.”

Her features hardened somewhat and she looked away to show her disinterest.

Ainsley scanned the room and saw Nathaniel step out of the library and adjust his tie. “Will you allow me to introduce you to someone?” he asked.

Ainsley led her to Nathaniel. “Winifred Talbot, this is my cousin, Nathaniel Banks.”

Within minutes, Ainsley was allowed to leave them to their own conversation and he started toward the dining room. Aunt Louisa was standing next to the door when he walked in.

“Oh, there you are,” she said, placing a gloved hand on the small of his back.

“So many people,” he said, adjusting his collar. “I’m not sure I am ready for such a gathering.”

“Well, yes, but…there is one guest in particular who is very eager to meet you.” Aunt Louisa smiled wryly and raised her eyebrows as she gestured to one side.

There, standing next to Margaret, dressed in an elaborate frock of silk and lace, stood a woman who looked like Julia. Ainsley closed his eyes and turned away, convinced he was only seeing things. Her ghost had yet to haunt him as he wished she would. Aunt Louisa guided him closer and he was forced to greet the spectre.

“Allow me to introduce Miss Cassandra Dare.” Aunt Louisa and Margaret smiled expectantly, but Ainsley had resolved to simply be polite and nothing more.

“Good evening, Mr. Marshall.”

Ainsley’s eyes focused at the sound of her voice.

“Miss Dare has been away from England, exploring the continent for some time before, unfortunately, her family drowned during a ferry mishap in Russia about a month ago,” Aunt Louisa explained slowly. “She will be staying with me…for the time being until her inheritance is settled.”

The confusion was overwhelming. Everything about this woman mirrored Julia in every way, her hair, her eyes, the angle of her jaw, and yet here she was presented to him as an heiress.

“Aren’t you going to say hello, Peter?” Margaret asked.

Ainsley stammered. “Forgive me,” he said. “What did you say your name was?”

“Cassandra Dare,” she said, trying hard to hide her smile.

Ainsley took his sister’s hand with a noticeable tremble. “Margaret, a word with you in the library, please?”

“Perhaps I should come as well,” Aunt Louisa offered.

“Miss Dare, would you care to join us in another few minutes?” Ainsley said evenly. “We cannot all leave at the same time and arouse suspicion.”

“An excellent notion, Peter,” Aunt Louisa said. “You two head on over. Miss Dare and I will join you shortly.”

Ainsley pulled at his sister’s arm tightly.

“You are hurting me,” she whispered as they made their way back through the maze of people crowded into their dining hall.

“You deserve a little pain after what you have all put me through,” Ainsley hissed.

Ainsley closed the library door immediately after entering it and then ran both of his hands through his hair in exasperation. “How could you not tell me?” he demanded.

“You have no idea how many times I wanted to,” Margaret begged. “Forgive me, please. It was Simms’s idea and I thought it was best.”

“Simms?”

The library door opened a crack. Margaret and Ainsley ducked behind it so none of the party guests in the hall would see them.

“The Iliad? Perhaps you’d be interested in borrowing our copy.” Aunt Louisa showed Julia in and closed the door. She smiled broadly and balled her hands into excited fists. “We did it. Everyone thinks she’s the Dare heiress.”

Ainsley turned from them and took a few steps. “Are you both out of your minds? Do you have any idea what you three have put me through?” When he turned back to them his eyes were glazed over and his cheeks were red. “I stood at your grave weeping. I’ve spent hours writing love letters saying all the things I wished I said while you lived. I started…I started drinking again.”

“Oh, I know,” Margaret said. “It killed me to see you in such a state, but we couldn’t, we just couldn’t. You have to believe us.”

Julia stepped forward, licking her lips. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “When I woke in the hospital it had all been decided. I had no choice.”

“You had already confronted Thaddeus and told them she was dead,” Margaret explained. “That’s what Simms had hoped you’d do.”

Ainsley closed his eyes, as his mind returned to that day. “That’s why he never stopped me. He and those constables let me go right in there.”

Margaret nodded. “Yes. It had to be believable. They’d know if you were lying. We had to convince them Julia was dead so they would stop coming after her.”

Julia pulled at Ainsley’s hand, cupping it in both of hers. “I wept as well, thinking of the anguish all of this was causing you.”

Ainsley placed a hand on the side of her face and rubbed her cheek with his thumb.

“Simms knew Thaddeus would never stand trial and we needed to protect Julia,” Margaret explained.

“It’s been a month,” Ainsley said, closing his eyes. “An entire month.”

“Simms found out Thaddeus was watching us,” Margaret said. “We couldn’t tell you too soon because then he’d know.”

“But, who is Cassandra Dare?”

“I am,” Julia teased.

“Simms fixed everything—”

“Cassandra Dare passed away nearly three weeks ago, while travelling with her family,” Aunt Louisa interjected.

“Everyone died,” Margaret said, “and the Dares never spent that much time in one place, so no one will know that our Cassandra isn’t the real Cassandra.”

“Anyone who wants to look deeper will still find her birth and christening records here in England,” Aunt Louisa added.

“But Miss Dare must have been buried somewhere.” Ainsley was trying hard to keep up as his aunt and sister laid out the details.

“They requested to be buried in India. Don’t you see, Peter, it’s perfect. A second chance at a happily ever after.” Aunt Louisa looked as if she were going to break out in tears as she came toward them to pull Julia into a tight hug.

Ainsley rubbed the back of his neck. “This is going to take some getting used to.”

“Oh, stuff and nonsense, you’ve been pretending to be two people for years now. You can lie some more to save this lovely woman’s life.” Aunt Louisa slapped his chest playfully with the back of her hand. “Come now, Margaret, let us leave these two lovebirds. If we don’t allow them some time to get to know one another, how are we ever going to explain their sudden infatuation?” Aunt Louisa winked as she reached for the door. She and Margaret left under a cloud of excitement.

For a second Ainsley couldn’t bring himself to look at Julia, afraid he’d wake up and find it was all a dream.

“Are you mad at me?” she asked.

“Mad at you?” Ainsley exhaled. “No, I’m not mad.” He closed his eyes against the tears. “Happy beyond measure.” He looked her over, tracing the outline of her face. “I never want to let you out of my sight again.”

“That will be difficult,” Julia said with a chuckle.

“Come here.” He placed his hand at the back of her neck, weaving a finger or two into the curls of her hair, and pulled her toward him. The kiss they shared was soft and slow, every effort was made to savour the sensation of it. Julia’s eyelashes tickled the crest of his cheeks, forcing him to smile, but did not pull them apart. He realized then that each embrace prior had been taken for granted and the only way to rectify his arrogance was to make a personal vow to relish each moment with slow, deliberate passion.

Everyone thought it best if Cassandra remain unseen for a prescribed period of time. Gossip began to spread regarding Miss Dare’s return to London, and much speculation arose from it. Careful appearances would be planned at a later date, Aunt Louisa decided, in which Ainsley would be able to publically display his interest in the fetching heiress.

Great care must be taken for the following months, Simms cautioned. He warned that Thaddeus would be keeping an eye on them for some time, and that Ainsley should never let his guard down.

Simms’s warnings came to the forefront of Ainsley’s mind one night in October when he, Margaret, and Aunt Louisa were leaving the theatre. A feeling of unease overtook him all at once, sending stomach bile up into his throat and causing his heart to race.

“Do you think it may be Lucy?” Margaret asked, as he rushed them out of the theatre.

“I’m not sure,” Ainsley answered honestly. The panic he felt, dry and gnawing, couldn’t be traced to a specific event or thought. While they rode home he knew something waited for them there. He thought of Thaddeus and tried in vain to push down the fear that threatened to envelop him.

By the time the carriage pulled up in front of the house, Ainsley was jumping out of his skin. He was the first to step out onto the pavement. The street was dark. The gas lamps above shed little to no light and the cold kept biting at him as he stood beside the carriage steps.

A shadow moved beside the front steps of the house. Slowly, it morphed into the silhouette of a man, broad and tall. Ainsley could not see his face for the dark.

“Do not take another step,” Ainsley commanded. Behind him, he heard Aunt Louisa gasp as the shadow grew larger. Margaret clutched at his arm, more to pull Ainsley back than seek protection.

“Who are you and what is your business here?” Ainsley feared it was Thaddeus, or one of his men, come to exact their own form of street justice. He tried to shield Margaret and Aunt Louisa. Running for the front door was out of the question. There simply wasn’t enough room between them and the shadow.

Behind them the horse team stomped impatiently at the kerb, releasing a heavy, nasal whinny. Ainsley could hear the reins, clasps, and buckles clinking amongst the leather of the halters and bridle. He wasn’t sure where Jacob stood, but the loyal servant hadn’t abandoned them. Ignoring Ainsley’s command to stay, the shadow moved closer.

“Peter?” Aunt Louisa called but remained close to the carriage.

“Announce yourself!” Ainsley said. This was the first time Ainsley wished he still had that G. & J. Deane pistol.

Ainsley watched as the form stopped a few paces from them. There was something familiar in its stance, something Ainsley had not noticed until then.

“Have you no patience,” the stranger asked, “for an old friend?” The figure pulled at his hat and allowed the lamppost to bathe him in soft light.

“Jonas?”

Margaret pulled back on Ainsley but he ignored her.

A rush of relief gave way to joy as he took in the sight of his friend and medical school colleague. With arms open wide for an overdue embrace, Ainsley went to him but stopped suddenly at the sight of something black, no crimson, glistening over Jonas’s white shirt.

“What’s happened here?” Ainsley asked, afraid to commit to the embrace.

Weary and pained, Jonas looked to Ainsley, his eyes pleading. “You have to help me, friend,” he said. “Something terrible has happened.”

“What? What is it? What do you need me to do?”

Ainsley would have done anything for the man, his friend. Jonas stood still for many moments. His face twisted into a painful grimace. His eyes became unfocused. His shoulders slouched.

“Come inside,” Ainsley pleaded. “I can help you.”

Margaret came alongside Ainsley, pulling her shawl tighter over her shoulders. “What is he saying, Peter?”

Ainsley shook his head, wondering how Margaret had not heard Jonas’s plea for help. “He’s saying he needs help,” Ainsley said. “But he won’t come inside.” He turned back to Jonas. “I don’t understand.”

Something wasn’t right. This didn’t seem like Jonas at all.

At the sound of Ainsley’s voice, Jonas turned and started down the pavement, carrying his hat at his side.

“Jonas, wait!”

“What’s happening?” Margaret asked, frightened. She clutched Ainsley’s sleeve tighter, preventing him from running ahead.

“He’s leaving. Don’t you see?” Ainsley finally looked to Margaret and saw the fear embedded in her eyes. “It’s Jonas. He’s right there.”

“We…” she swallowed hard, “we don’t see anything.”

When Ainsley turned back, his friend was gone, swallowed by the black night of London.

 

About Tracy L. Ward

A former journalist and graduate from Humber College's School for Writers, Tracy L. Ward has been hard at work developing her favourite protagonist, Peter Ainsley, and chronicling his adventures as a morgue surgeon in Victorian England. She is currently working on the sixth book in the Marshall House Mystery series set for release in 2017. To find out more about Tracy’s books follow her on www.facebook.com/TracyWard.Author or visit her website at www.gothicmysterywriter.blogspot.com