A Rip in Time (Out of Time #7) (21 page)

To the upper class in England, scullery maids should never be seen, and certainly not during a party. It was a breach of etiquette and if she were found out, she’d be severely punished. Despite that, the girl tiptoed toward the fireplace and Simon realized why. She’d left one of her brushes.
 

She crept along the far wall and then stopped in mid-step as she realized he was watching her. He smiled slightly and shook his head, silently promising he would not give her away. She smiled in return and hurried to the hearth, and bent down to pick up her brush. Unfortunately, Simon was not the only one who saw her.
 

Roderick, Blackwood’s omnipresent valet, appeared at her side and gripped her arm, pulling her to her feet. The fear in the girl’s face was plain to see. However, it went beyond fear of the usual repercussions for a breach of etiquette. It was something else.

She looked at Roderick, her face pale. His gaze moved meaningfully to where Blackwood stood and the girl blanched. Simon leaned forward, ready to move in if the girl needed his help. What on earth was going on here?

Roderick yanked her arm and pulled her toward the door. Blackwood turned just then and frowned deeply in displeasure. The girl struggled one last moment, silently pleading, before Roderick moved her through the door. That was when Simon noticed the change in Blackwood’s expression—from angry to pleased. It was as though he’d just gotten something he wanted very much. Simon realized what that must have been, as Blackwood’s eyes lingered—the girl.

~~~

Simon was oddly quiet on the carriage ride back to their hotel. Not that he was ever a chatterbox, but there was quiet, the content kind, and then there was quiet, the dark brooding kind. This was definitely the latter.

“Did something happen?” she asked.

He looked up, pulled from whatever reverie he was in, and started to answer, but closed his mouth with a frown. He looked up at the roof of the cab toward where the driver was sitting and shook his head, silently telling her that it would have to wait until they were away from potentially prying ears.

Although the cabbie was just for hire and probably wouldn’t have any idea what they were talking about, it was wise to be cautious about what they said and where. After all, she’d overheard a few juicy pieces of gossip herself tonight.

Happily, it wasn’t long before they reached Brown’s Hotel. Simon helped her down and paid the driver. Elizabeth started up the front steps, but he didn’t follow.
 

“How about a walk? I think I could use some air,” he said.

The air was manure-scented, but honestly, she was so used it now she hardly noticed. She nodded and came back down the steps, winding her arm through the elbow he offered.

The night was oddly clear, and felt clean and crisp. It had a little nip to it, but between Simon and the fifty layers of clothing she had on, it was not a problem.

They walked toward Berkeley Square and one of the most elite neighborhoods in all of the West End. Enormous houses like Landsdowne and Devonshire were mini-palaces sheltering in the shadow of the real thing. It was early enough that few other people were out walking, and the only sounds were their footfalls on the sidewalk and the occasional carriage or cart.
 

“What happened at the party?” Elizabeth said as they turned up the block toward the park.

“I’m not sure.”

“Simon Cross is always sure,” she teased.

He gave a small laugh, then sobered and told her about what he’d seen go on between the maid, the valet and the doctor.

“You think he beats them?” she asked, feeling the anger growing inside her.

“Or worse.”

She swallowed down the bile that rose up at the image of the doctor forcing himself on the girl.
 

She trusted Simon’s instincts, but that was a lot to glean from a single look.
 

As if hearing her doubts he said, “I know it’s a bit of a stretch, but it was the way she looked at him, and more so, the way he looked at her. It was indecent.”

“That doesn’t make him a killer though,” Elizabeth said, master of stating the obvious.

“No, but it does make me wonder. He isn’t having a sexual relationship with his wife. If he were to find that elsewhere—”

“With the servants?”

“And others,” Simon prompted her.
 

“Prostitutes.”

He nodded. “It’s possible.”

“Maybe that’s why Elizabeth Stride was at his office the other day. That didn’t seem to be hospital business.”

“No,” Simon agreed. “It did not.”

Elizabeth considered the new information. “Ok, so the doctor might be one of those madonna/whore types. Worships his virtuous and untouched wife, and gets all lecherous with his ’lessers’—the servants and prostitutes.”

“He wouldn’t be the first.”

She knew he was right, but the whole notion was disturbed. Then again, so much here was.

“I learned a little tidbit about the doctor tonight. Guess who went to see him yesterday?”

Simon arched an eyebrow and waited.

“None other than our own little Miss Katherine Vale.”
 

He was duly surprised by the news. “And how did you find that out?”

Elizabeth laughed. “George. He’s a worse gossip than any woman I know.”

Simon hmm’d softly.
 

“He said that her headaches are getting worse. I didn’t add that it’s probably just the crazy breaking off in there and scrambling everything up.”

Simon snorted.
 

Elizabeth shrugged. “I’m not sure what it gets us, but Vale plus doctor who specializes in crazy, well, it’s something to keep an eye on.”

“A close eye,” Simon said. “I’ve been wondering if we haven’t paid enough attention to our Miss Vale. I’d be shocked if she weren’t at the crux of whatever changes her old self made to history here.”

“We’ve been so busy, chasing our tails and missing opportunities,” Elizabeth said, knowing it sounded bitter.

“It’s frustrating, isn’t it?”
 

It was more than that. Elizabeth was a woman of action. She would have come with her own kung-fu grip if she’d had anything to say about it. So far, the only action they’d seen was their own darn fault. And now they had three weeks until the next opportunity. It was maddening.

Simon must have sensed her anxiety because he tucked his elbow in a bit closer, pulling her toward him. “We have to be patient.”

“How can you be so calm about it?”

“You think I’m calm?”

His equanimity was one of his most infuriating traits. “Yes.”

Simon pulled up short. “What would have me do? Make him kill faster?”

Shocked at his sudden temper, Elizabeth leaned away from him. He looked poised to fight, but just as quickly the set of his shoulders softened.
 

“I’m sorry,” he said and let out a deep breath before looking up to the heavens for strength. “I hate this. I hate every moment of it. The very thought of having to watch a woman be brutally murdered and do nothing…”

He stopped and closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, he’d gathered himself again. “I may appear calm, but I assure you, I am not.”

Elizabeth felt foolish. Of course, he wasn’t taking this in stride. He was just better at not acting like a jackass about things they couldn’t change.

“I’m sorry,” Elizabeth said and stepped closer to him, putting her hands on his chest and needlessly smoothing out the lapel of his waistcoat.

“It’s like being forced to wait to watch a snuff film only to be told to come back and do it again tomorrow,” she said. “Sometimes I think the waiting for things is worse than the thing itself. Except this time,” she continued looking up into his handsome, worried face, “it’s not. They’re both unbearable.”

Simon gently touched the side of her face, and she closed her eyes and leaned into his palm.
 

“And yet we will bear it,” he said softly, and then gently tilted her head back, urging her to open her eyes. “The price is too high not to.”

He looked at her with such love, such faith, it made her chest hurt.

“I would walk through fire for you,” he said.

Elizabeth let out a shaky breath. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Simon laughed. “Agreed.”

He kissed her lightly, and started them down the street toward their hotel. Elizabeth felt better and worse at the same time. Simon’s strength and conviction revitalized her and yet she knew, while it might not be fire, they would both walk through something a lot like Hell before this was over.
 

A
FTER
THE
REVELATION
LAST
night that Katherine Vale was seeing their prime suspect, Dr. Blackwood, Elizabeth and Simon had agreed that they needed to find out more about what Vale was up to. What they didn’t agree on was how. They didn’t want to separate, but somehow the idea of Katherine Vale spilling her guts, metaphorically, to Simon was hard to picture. If Elizabeth could get her alone, she might let something slip.
 

In the end, Elizabeth’s logic had won out—a rare victory and one to be relished when married to Simon Cross—and so she went alone to Hyde Park Hotel. Well, alone-ish. Simon was not willing to let her stray too far from him, and planted himself in the park across the street where he could see the hotel entrance clearly. A few days ago, Elizabeth would have thought he was being overly cautious, but that had been before she’d run willy-nilly through the streets of Whitechapel with no idea what the holy heck was going on.
 

Elizabeth looked across the street, nodded once to him and then turned and walked up the steps to the lobby. As she did she focused on Vale, trying out various, potential tacks.
Feeling crazier than usual? Are you hearing voices?
Seen any good doctors lately?
But they all seemed a little too direct. This Vale might be younger and less experienced, but she was no fool. Elizabeth would have to tread carefully and hope Vale gave her some information without realizing she’d done it.

Elizabeth entered the lobby and headed for the front desk. She was planning on getting her room number and surprising her with an invitation to lunch, but Elizabeth was the one who was surprised. Vale was already standing at the front desk, either returning her key or getting it.
 

Just as Elizabeth was about to approach her, a young man appeared at the front desk next to her. He asked the clerk something and that something must have been for Katherine Vale’s room because she turned in surprise and the man laughed lightly and then smiled.

Elizabeth wasn’t sure what it was, there was nothing odd about the man, but something, instinct, told her to wait and watch. But she couldn’t just stand there and gawk. The lobby was busy, but if Vale turned, Elizabeth would easily be seen. She needed cover. It was probably silly, but she edged behind a potted plant and watched between the fronds, trying her best to read their lips as they spoke.

The man, who was not much more than a boy, smiled eagerly back at Vale and fished into his jacket pocket for something. He was well-dressed, but not fancy, a conservative dark suit, maybe in banking or some other Serious Occupation. He pulled out an envelope and held it out to her. She looked at it suspiciously and shook her head. He said something, Elizabeth’s lipreading wasn’t very good, but it looked like he was saying her name, confirming she was the one he should deliver this to. She nodded and he inched the envelope closer with a smile.

Well, this was interesting development. Who, other than Graham, would send her a note? And if it had been Graham, why not just leave it at the desk or use a messenger boy? The man standing across from her was young, but he was not just a messenger. Elizabeth supposed it was still possible it was from Graham, but…

Frowning, Vale took the envelope from him, but waited until he’d tipped his hat and left the lobby before she made any move to open it.

She turned the envelope over in her hands, curious, but wary. She chewed her lower lip and seemed to be deciding what to do with it when Graham appeared near the stairs. He called out to her and instead of turning to face him, asking or telling him about this odd letter, she stuffed it hastily in her reticule to hide it from him.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t from Graham and it was a secret. At least, Elizabeth added silently, until she got her mitts on it.
 

“Are you all right, Miss?” a man said at Elizabeth’s ear.

She turned in surprise and he nodded toward the plant. “Are you…stuck?”

Elizabeth laughed nervously as she shimmied out from behind the plant. “No, I just…I thought I’d lost my bag back here.”

“The one on your wrist?” he said trying not to sound like he was talking to an imbecile.

“Ah! So it is. Always the last place you look, isn’t it?” she said. She widened her eyes and twisted her hands in a swirling motion near her head. “A bit featherbrained today, I’m afraid.”

He smiled and took a step closer as his eyes made a quick run up and down her body. “Not at all.”

Elizabeth laughed again. “My husband certainly thinks so.”

The man stepped back and cleared his throat. “Oh.”

Realizing that there was no room for advancement here, the man tipped his hat and wished her a good day. As she turned back to Graham and Vale, she thought it might just be one after all.

~~~

Vale had wanted to go back to her rooms to lie down and rest. Elizabeth knew it was really because she was anxious to read the mysterious letter. But Graham put the kibosh on the idea, saying that a day out would do her good. Amazingly, she demurred to his wishes. The older one would have laughed in his face and then killed him, or maybe vice versa just for kicks. This Vale was young and unsure, and didn’t want to upset Graham, so she agreed to join Elizabeth for an outing. And hopefully a little purloining of the purse, Elizabeth thought to herself.

Graham put them in a cab for Regent Circus, and the look of what seemed to almost be relief at being shed of Vale for the day wasn’t lost on Elizabeth. It might have been her imagination, but she didn’t think it was lost on Vale either.