A Lady in the Smoke (27 page)

My aunt and uncle returned from London very late on Thursday, and we all met at the breakfast table on Friday morning. My aunt's manner toward me remained stilted, and she spoke mostly to my uncle; my uncle was trying to be cordial to both of us; and though I tried to keep my mind on the conversation, my thoughts were going around in my head like hares being chased by hounds.

As we were finishing our second pot of tea, Agnes came in with a letter on a silver salver and offered it to me.

I recognized Anne's writing paper, and my heart jumped.

Had she spoken to Philip?

“Who is it from?” my aunt asked.

I made a show of checking the envelope. “Anne Reynolds.” And then, politely: “May I open it?”

She gave me a look of exaggerated patience. “Of course you may open it.”

It was very short:

My dear Elizabeth, Could you please come to see me today? It's about Philip. —A

I read the lines twice, my pulse unsteady. I knew my friend, and I knew that this carefully worded letter meant that Philip had decided whether he would testify in court—and perhaps also that Anne had heard that I might need a special reason to be allowed to visit. Philip's illness would count. Silently, I handed the letter to my aunt.

She glanced over it, and her expression became disapproving. Like everyone else, my aunt only knew the reported story about Philip, and although she liked Anne very much, she didn't much care for the rest of the family. “What does she mean, ‘it's about Philip'? What's he done now?”

“He hasn't done anything, Aunt,” I said, and my voice carried a note of reproof. “You know about Felix Benedict, whose family has brought the charges against Mr. Wilcox?”

“Of course.”

“Philip and he were close friends at Oxford. Ever since he heard about Felix's death, he's been just wretched. I haven't seen him myself, but Anne says they've had the doctors in, and she's very worried about him.”

“Why, Elizabeth.” My aunt looked chagrined. “I had no idea.”

My uncle gave a rumbly cough. “I can't say I'm terribly concerned about Philip, but poor Anne. That girl has had a lifetime of worry this past year. It seems only kind to let Elizabeth go, if Anne wants her.”

I smiled gratefully at him.

My aunt sighed. “Yes, of course. You can take the gig, but be back for dinner. And don't do anything foolish.”

“I won't. Thank you.” I rose hurriedly from my chair, and in less than an hour I was on my way to Reynolds Hall, where I went straight up to Anne's room, my heart in my throat.

She was sitting in the window seat, looking out onto the broad spread of lawn. Though she must have heard me enter, she didn't alter her pose, and just from the rigid set of her spine, I knew Philip had said no.

“Anne,” I said softly.

She turned then, and I saw she'd been crying. Her face was full of regret and pain and something like shame. “I'm sorry, Elizabeth. Philip says he won't do it. I tried. Honestly I did.” She looked so unhappy that I did my best to hide my disappointment.

I went to sit beside her. “I know. And you mustn't blame Philip. It's a tremendous thing to ask.” I hesitated. “If you don't mind telling me, what exactly did he say?”

She sighed. “Well, first he was very angry with me for having told you about Felix in the opium den. He felt I'd betrayed his confidence—and I did, though I assured him you'd never say a word to anyone. But when I explained that Mr. Wilcox's future was at stake, Philip stopped being angry. He just felt sorry.” Her hands twisted in her lap. “He asked me if you loved him. I told him I thought you did, and for a moment, it seemed as if he was going to agree to do it. But…” She shook her head. “Then his whole face went hard again. And he said no.”

“I see.” My voice caught, and it was all I could do not to beg Anne to let me try with Philip.

A long moment went by, and finally she asked, “What are you going to do? His trial is in three days. Has Mr. Flynn found anything?”

“No. He's found out more about the railway scheme, but nothing that's going to help Paul.”

She touched my hand. “You should go see him, you know. Before the trial.”

“Paul?” I shook my head. “I'm not allowed. And what good would it do? I've turned this over in my head a hundred times, but I can't think of anything else that would help.”

“Maybe you don't need to help,” she corrected me gently. “Maybe you simply need to let him know that you're thinking of him. I daresay he needs your sympathy and—and affection, as much as anything else.” Anne shifted against the pillows so she could face me. “In fact, I think you should go see him now. When will you have another chance?”

“Anne, I
can't
. My aunt was absolutely furious after I went to London. If she finds out I've gone to see him, I'll be put under lock and key.”

“She won't find out,” Anne replied. “Did you ride Athena here or come in your gig?”

“I brought the gig. But—”

“Then we'll take it.” She stood up and brushed out her skirt. “We can leave together, and you can drop me in Levlinshire on your way. Then you can either pick me up, or I can take a cab back here.” She smiled down at me. “Don't worry. If anyone asks, we were shopping together. No one will ever know otherwise.”

That is what I'd believed when I went to the
Falcon
offices, and it hadn't worked out so well. But the thought of having Paul sentenced to prison or transported without my ever speaking to him again felt intolerable.

Of course I was going.

I left the gig at a stable near the jail, then went to the front gate and asked to see the warden.

“May I visit my brother, please? Mr. Paul Wilcox.”

“And what's your name, miss?”

The thought flashed through my mind that James might have removed me from the list. But there was no help for that now.

“Miss Elizabeth Wilcox,” I replied. “I was here last Thursday, and then again on Monday. I should be on the permanent list of allowed visitors.”

He checked over a paper on his desk, then looked up with a frown. “You ain't. But you say you be his sister?”

“I
am
his sister,” I said firmly. “If you want proof, he wears our great-great-grandfather's ring on a chain around his neck. It has a Scottish motto on it, about loyalty and remembrance. He doesn't show it to anyone.” He still looked doubtful. “Please,” I begged. “Our mother is worrying herself ill about him. She can't even sleep nights.”

He relented with a grunt. “A' right. You dunno how many women come here trying to see menfolk wot ain't any relation to them.” He unlocked the first door. “Not that you seem like one of them sorts,” he added hastily.

I mustered all my dignity. “Well, thank you.”

He summoned a guard, who led me down the hallways, my heart quickening at each turn, until at last I saw Paul through the bars. He was seated on the bed, writing. The little stove was lit, as well as two lanterns. A slice of daylight was coming in through the window.

“That's all 'e does,” the guard said to me, as if Paul couldn't hear him. Paul looked up at the sound of his voice, but his eyes immediately darted to me.

“Sits there with them papers, writin' away,” the guard continued. “Dunno what 'e 'opes to 'ccomplish by it.”

“Hello, Paul,” I said, through the bars. “Mother asked me to check on you. She's worried that you're not keeping your throat wrapped up.”

His reply came easily: “You've told her I'm all right, didn't you? I don't want her worrying. It's not good for her nerves.”

The guard drew out his keys.

“Of course,” I replied. “And Jane has been giving her some extra wine with dinner to help her sleep.”

The guard swung the door open and motioned me inside. I heard the lock click closed behind me.

Even after the man's footsteps had faded down the hall, neither of us said anything. We just stood there, looking at each other. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Your cousin said you weren't going to be coming anymore.”

“My aunt found out that I went to London to help Mr. Flynn look through the papers, so she's been keeping a close watch on me. I could only come now because they think I'm at Anne's.”

His mouth tightened. “Yes, Tom told me what you did. It still scares me, thinking of you in that cab in Whitechapel. People die there, Elizabeth, all the time.”

I replied more lightly than I felt, “Well, I was fine.” I gestured toward the papers on the cot. “What's all this?”

“James and I have been going over my cases from the past year, and I've been reviewing the ones that Sir Solmes is most likely to use to try to discredit me.”

“Are there very many?”

He took up a closely written page and handed it to me. “Here is a list of those I thought were malingering. I testified against their claims in court.”

I took it from him and cast my eyes down the names in the left margin; abbreviated notes, in his neat hand, were to the right.

Dismayed, I handed the paper back. “All of these people were trying to make fraudulent claims?”

“Well, there were others too. But these were the ones with large sums at stake.” He handed me a second page, divided the same way as the first. “These are the cases in which there were complicating factors.”

I looked up. “Why, I know Lady Truax,” I said, somewhat surprised to find a name I recognized. “I didn't know she'd been in a railway accident.”

“Just a small one. She was jarred, but there was nothing broken, merely a few contusions. She has a nervous disposition, so I saw her several times. I don't think she'll be called upon to testify against me. She made a full recovery, and she gave no sign she was unhappy with my care.”

I went back to the list:

Silently, I gave the page back to him.

“When it comes down to it,” he said, “it will probably be some doctor's word against mine, on one of these seventeen cases.”

“What is the name of the Benedicts' physician? I've forgotten.”

“Dr. Morris.”

“Has James found anything to discredit him?”

He gave a half-smile. “Not yet. Tom has Jeremy working on it.”

“Well, if anyone could find something…” I let my voice trail off.

“I know. I'm glad that boy's on my side.”

“And Mr. Erichsen? Is he coming for the trial? James seemed to think he'd be an effective advocate for you.”

He shook his head, his face troubled. “I haven't heard.”

“But surely he knows how important this is!”

“Yes, and if the telegram reaches him, he'll be here, if he can.” His voice had a sharp edge, and I thought I understood why. He was doing everything he could to help himself; but there was so much that was beyond his control, including whether Mr. Erichsen would be able to testify. I felt sorry I'd brought it up, and I watched silently as he gathered up his notes into a single neat stack.

All those pages, I thought, and hours of work—and still, if a case
was
brought to discredit Paul, it might not even be one of these.

“Would you like to sit down?” he asked.

I lowered myself onto the rickety chair while he took a seat on the cot.

“How is your mother?” he asked.

“She's better. The medicine you sent is helping. I think Jane is weaning her off the laudanum.”

He nodded. “That's for the best. You should have Jane stay for as long as it takes. Considering how long your mother has been taking it, giving it up is going to be like clawing her way out of a ravine. Even if she wants to, she won't be able to do it alone.”

Though he spoke quietly, there was a note of grim certainty in his voice that made me stare.

“Paul, why do you say it that way?” And when he didn't answer at first, I leaned forward. “Paul?”

His expression was equal parts regret and shame. “I took it for a while myself, right after Emily—my fiancée—died.” He shook his head. “I wanted to curl up in that ravine and forget everything.”

“Who helped you out of it?” I asked.

“Tom.”

Of course.

“Well, I can understand wanting to forget,” I said. “You must have been terribly unhappy.” A pause. “I almost took it once myself.”

His body went rigid.
“What?”

“I didn't, though,” I said hastily. “I put it back.”

“Why on earth would you even consider it?” He looked incredulous. “You've seen firsthand what it does to someone. When was this?”

Surprised by his fierceness, I drew back in my chair. “It was the day you came to Kellham Park to see Mama. You could barely look at me, you despised me so. After you left, I went up to sit with her….” I averted my eyes from his. “I was very unhappy.”

“Oh, Elizabeth.” He groaned. “God knows I had no wish to make you so.” With a sigh, he went to the window and stood with his back to me.

I watched him mutely, not knowing what to say.

After a minute, he turned, and I saw the torment in his face. “You must imagine my feelings after I learned that you weren't merely a gentleman's daughter but the daughter of an earl. I was so angry and hurt and stunned, I couldn't think straight. I reeled from it for hours, Elizabeth. For
days.
” His voice was raw. “I had spent no more than a dozen hours with you, and I knew I had found—in the most unexpected time and place—someone I could admire and cherish with all my heart.”

His words brought me to my feet, and I whispered his name.

“I know that the boundaries between the classes have become somewhat permeable.” He gave a brief, wry smile. “But not
that
permeable. And then I came to your house, and the difference between us was made rather shockingly obvious.”

“I know.”

“But you're wrong—utterly wrong when you say I despised you and could barely look at you that day. It was nearly impossible for me
not
to look at you.” His eyes locked on mine. “Then, as now, your every feature is engraved on my brain. The way the right side of your mouth curves before the left when you smile. The tilt of your head when something surprises you. The blue of your eyes, the scar on your forehead where I stitched it.” His voice dropped. “You've no idea how I long to take you in my arms.”

I could barely breathe.

Somehow our hands had become intertwined. I laid my head against his chest, and for a long while, neither of us said a word.

And then, he released me. “I know it's impossible, but I couldn't let you leave here without telling you.”

“Oh, Paul.” My voice was so strained that it didn't even sound like my own. All I could feel was how much I loved him, and how intolerable this was for both of us.

Then came footsteps in the hallway, and my heart jumped in alarm. “Could that be James?” I whispered. “He can't find me here.”

Paul shook his head reassuringly. “It's the guard. I know his step.”

A moment later, the man appeared on the other side of the bars, his ring of keys at the ready. “Miss, it's nigh six o'clock. You'll have to go. You can come back t'morrow.”

With fingers that trembled, I began to button my coat. I tried to make my voice calm and cheerful. “Uncle John will be there in Travers on Monday, and I'm hoping he'll let me come along.” Before I could reconsider, I stepped toward Paul and kissed him on the cheek, as sister to brother. “I'll tell Mother you're all right. Is there anything else?”

“No.” Then he caught his breath and turned so that his back was to the guard. “Wait—yes. Give her my—love, would you?”

That love was meant for me. I could see it in his face, and I hoped my eyes were telling him what I couldn't say aloud.

“Miss,” came the guard's voice.

It took everything I had to turn and walk out of the cell.