Fearless (Scarlet Suffragette, Book 1): A Victorian Historical Romantic Suspense Series (21 page)

Yours in truth only,

SF

It took several attempts to decipher the penmanship. Even more to unravel the misspelled words. But where one word was incorrectly written, the same word later appeared perfect. I traced the line of the red inked letters with a slow finger, wondering at this oddity, but unable to conclude anything of worth.

With determined movements I reached down and picked the box up and walked with it and the letter into my surgery. I noticed my hand shook slightly, as I laid the items down on my workbench. I stared for too long at the gruesome delivery and then went in search of the stablehand. Having organised a message to be taken forthwith to Inspector Kelly, I returned to the main house and was just walking down the hallway toward my surgery, dread and nausea swirling in my gut, when a knock sounded out on the front door.

The house was otherwise still. Hardwick and Wilhelmina ensconced in my cousin's room. The vile message sitting innocuously upon my bench. I stared into the surgery as I passed, a shiver racing down my spine, and then opened the door without allowing myself to think on it.

There stood a dark shadow, blocking out the morning sun, hat in hand, cane braced at an angle to his impressive side.

"That was quick," I remarked, and received a frown in reply. "My boy found you already?" I enquired.

"What boy?" Kelly demanded, standing stoically regal on my front door step. He looked immaculate, but had obviously not slept a wink, merely managed to wash and change his attire.

I frowned back in return. "Why are you here, Inspector?" I said instead of answering his abrupt question.

"I.. ah," he began, stuttering over his words in a fashion I had never heard Inspector Kelly utilise before. He cleared his throat. "I wished to check on you and your cousin."

"Oh," was all I managed before warmth stole all possibility of thought.

"To ensure you were well tended by the constable I left across the street," he added, somehow causing the heat that had unfurled to evaporate.

"Ah," I said, standing aside and ushering him in with a sweep of my arm. "Then please do enter."

"Thank you," he remarked rather formally, his shoulder brushing against mine as he walked past. I noticed the set of his back when the contact was made, the stiffness only abating once he'd made it several feet inside the hall.

"You are well?" he asked, walking toward the drawing room, as a guest would expect to be received there.

"Not quite," I murmured, making him halt in his tracks. He spun to look at me then, his eyes darting over my face, the hard lines of his disapproval growing more prominent with every sweep of his gaze. Once he reached the cloak I still wore inside, the blood on the cuffs still evident from last night, and the red stain to my hands which I still had not had the wherewithal to remove, his frown turned into a perturbed scowl.

"Why have you not changed?" he asked, and then immediately flushed an amusing pink.

I smiled, although I was sure it was brittle, and led the way into my surgery. I heard his cane echo across the room from behind, but determined it best not to turn around.

Eye contact had always been my downfall where the inspector was concerned.

"Wilhelmina did not take the news well," I said softly.

"I am sorry to hear that," he murmured back.

"Hardwick is with her, but I remained at her side through the night."

He crossed to the wash basin, picking up the jug and pouring water into the prettily decorated porcelain bowl my father had kept to the side. He slowly pulled his gloves off, placing them neatly, one on top of the other, and then beckoned me closer.

I credited my discombobulated state since Albert Park the night before for the fact I went to him without hesitation.

"Here," he gruffly whispered, reaching down and lifting my hand up, his fingers warm against the frigid chill of my limb. Gently he washed the blood away. First one hand and then the other, drying them off carefully with a soft cloth I had hanging to the side.

He turned and looked down at my hands, still resting in both of his, his face impassive, his eyes dark orbs of swirling emotion.

"You don't take enough care of yourself, Anna," he murmured. The volume of his voice making the moment more intimate than it needed to be. "Scarlet," he added, but didn't elaborate.

I pulled free of his grip, suddenly self-conscious. And walked the short distance to my bench. The room was warm, Hardwick having set and lit the fire before venturing out the front door and finding the delivery, at a guess. I crossed to the hearth instead, ignoring the call of the evidence inside the box, and held my hands out, trying to warm them.

Nothing worked. Without Kelly's larger hands wrapped around them they seemed frozen through.

I didn't hear him approach, but suddenly his fingers were at the collar of my cloak, deftly removing it in one swift motion that shocked for its intimacy as well as its quickness. In seconds I was appropriately attired for inside the house, no more blood on my sleeves, or evidence of what had transpired on my pale skin.

I stared at my hands, my fingers trembling, as Kelly stood silently at my side. He waited with infinite patience, until I was ready to talk.

"Helen was with Wilhelmina yesterday," I found myself saying. "They picked up a flyer from Crowther's campaign."

"And were singled out," Kelly added, his words even, his presence that of an anchor to a storm tossed ship on rough seas.

"Why Helen?" I said, saying the words I hadn't dared utter until then. "Why her and not Wilhelmina?"

"Chance," Kelly offered, not couching his reply to save my sensibilities. That's what I admired about Inspector Kelly. Where a case was concerned, he often treated me as a surgeon rather than a woman. I wasn't sure he was aware of it. And sometimes he did follow the rules.

But when his guard was down, like it so obviously was right now, he slipped up and allowed me to believe I was his equal.

"First Margaret at a Suffragette rally that culminated at a mayoral race stand," I said, staring steadfastly at the flickering flames in the hearth, denying myself the desire to face the man. "Then Mary near a council owned warehouse, which, I can only assume, must have some significance to the elections if its more nefarious uses were to become public knowledge."

"An interesting assessment," Kelly managed, before there was a loud bang at the doorway to the surgery and we both turned to see Wilhelmina storming in.

I opened my mouth to ask if she was all right, only to slam it shut again when she raised a finger and pointed it, rather rudely, directly at my face.

"Mary?" she all but yelled. "You did not tell me of Mary!" she added, hands fisting, eyes flashing, anger and fear making her rather stunning to behold.

"Wilhelmina," I began.

"No, Anna," she snapped back. "Three dead not two. How could you keep this from me? From Helen?" She hiccoughed on Helen's name, her trembling hand coming up to her lips to stifle a sob. "Had we known..."

"Had you been aware of Miss Bennett's demise, you still may well have been targeted," Inspector Kelly interrupted. "Besides, Miss Cassidy was under strict orders to keep certain information quiet."

"From me?" Mina shouted, rounding on the man. I stepped forward to intercept, but Kelly held up his hand, stalling my forward motion.

"From everyone," he said firmly. "And like her father, she is well trained in police etiquette. I praise her for her vigilance."

"Even though it may have caused a death," Mina said, the words out before she could stop them. Her eyes rounded to the size of saucers, her lips quivering as she glanced my way.

I'm not sure if it was the shock of seeing Mina up and engaging so quickly after an attack, or the fact that the inspector had come to my defence which left me speechless. But I could no further soothe my cousin's conscience than I could my own.

We stared at each other and that's when the inspector noticed the parcel.

He took a step towards it, his entire being on full alert; from the way he held himself, to the obvious lack of need to use his cane to walk, it was clear the inspector was entirely focused on new evidence. And then he halted in his tracks, swinging back to face us and blocking Mina's view of what he had discovered.

I think I loved him even more in that moment, if it had been at all possible.

"Miss Cassidy," he said, directing the words to my cousin. "My condolences on your loss. We are endeavouring to do everything in our power to catch the culprit, which includes utilising your cousin's skills and advice."

I blinked. Mina just swung her head towards me, her lips parting in surprise and a healthy dose of regret for her previous words. She shook herself slightly and then looked back towards the inspector.

"I shall leave you to your business, then," she managed in a strained whisper-quiet voice.

"It would be appreciated," Kelly said with a small nod of his head in thanks. "I must ask, however," he added, halting her movements to escape. "That you too are cautious in whom you trust to confide."

"I have no intention of going anywhere, Inspector," my cousin announced, her chin lifting in a surprising show of defiance. "Let alone entertain guests whilst in mourning for my dearest friend."

My heart ached; I wanted to go to her. But the look she threw my way - one of disapproval and clear rebuff - froze my body solid. With a flurry of skirt hem she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room. Managing an impressive
bang
as the door slammed closed behind her.

Wilhelmina was not one to throw a fit. But her emotions were raw, and the darkness she so often succumbed to would have been calling, and I was just immensely grateful that she was feeling anything right now, anything strong enough to keep her head above water.

For I was surely drowning.

I sank down onto a nearby stool and stared at the wooden floorboards.

"When did this arrive?" Kelly's voice sounded out carefully from over beside the bench.

"This morning. Not half an hour before you appeared. I sent a stablehand from the mews to fetch you."

"Ah," he said. "Hence the greeting."

I wanted to smile, but smiling was long ago lost to me.

"You can confirm this is Miss Nelson's?" he enquired.

I nodded, unsure if he saw the movement. Such weight on me, I could no further lift my head than shout out my grief and anger to the skies.

I heard the rustle of the parchment as he lifted the letter. Silence followed as he no doubt deciphered the scrambled script within. Some moments later he appeared before me, crouching down slightly to look me in the eye.

I lifted tired lids to meet his gaze; concern, fear, some measure of care I could not determine stared back out of deep blue eyes.

"I will not let anything happen to you or your cousin," he said, the words solemn as if they were a vow. He confirmed as much when he added, "I swear this to you, Anna. Nothing foul shall further befall this house."

His promise to my father. I was relieved, at least, that promise now included Wilhelmina.

But my heart refused to see things that way, and crumbled to dust within a yawning hollow inside. I was a promise he’d made. Not a promise of something more intimate.

Kelly let out a frustrated breath of air and stood to full height, his hands fisted at his sides. The letter missing. His cane nowhere near. He stood before me a strong and fit giant. A noble knight declaring himself our champion.

I looked up the length of him, noting the care with which he'd taken in his presentation this morning. His coat was finely pressed, his collar starched and bright white. His cravat beautifully arranged setting off the delicate pattern of his waistcoat. He looked gorgeous.

Untouchable but gorgeous.

"Three Suffragettes," I said softly, determined to return us to level ground.

He nodded his head, accepting the segue easily, and repeated, "Three Suffragettes," in his deep, resonant voice.

I let a small breath of air out, unsure if I was relieved we were discussing the case, or saddened we were no longer knocking on forbidden doors. Forbidden because he desired it so.

My eyes threatened to well with unwanted tears, my hands itched to wring in my lap like a delicate damsel. My father would have been appalled.

I stood up and walked toward the workbench and the still waiting murderer's delivery, straightening my shoulders and lifting my chin, deep breaths, in and out.

"Let us discuss this note, Inspector," I announced.

Silence for a beat, and then he said, "Yes. You are wrapped up in this somehow."

It was a concession and an admission.

And my invitation,
finally
, to be part of this vile case.

I looked down at the piece of human tissue inside the box and swore to myself, and to the memory of my father, that I
would
do him proud.

The list lengthened as I stood there, Kelly moving silently to my side. Wilhelmina. Helen. Mary and Margaret, and all Suffragettes. I owed it to them.