He paused again. “I could never imagine something like this, and that perhaps I am to blame for agreeing to meet her alone that afternoon. If I had not, she might…”
I heard the unspoken, that she might still be alive. It was natural to blame himself.
His voice had gone very quiet. “I purchased her ring two days ago.”
“Ye could not have known what would happen,” Brodie told him. “But ye may be able to help us now.”
Captain Mathison turned then. He forced back the emotions that briefly appeared on his face. He nodded.
Brodie had questions, of course.
Had Amelia spoken of any recent difficulty with her family? Had they perhaps learned of their relationship? Was there a threat of some kind, or the mention of someone following her when she was out and about? And then, was there any concern or misgivings on her part as she planned to join him?
The answer was the same to each one. There was nothing to indicate either by word or manner that she was upset by anything. Point of fact, she was excited and had made the arrangements for them to meet that last time before leaving London together.
“Was there any reason for her to go to Hyde Park?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Is that where she was… When it happened?”
I nodded. There was no reason, I thought, to mention the photograph or show it to him.
“We were to meet at St. James Square, and then continue on to the Grosvenor,” he said then. “She spoke of having a family— she thought four children was a good number. If only…” he paused, leaning heavily once more on his cane.
“I am to report soon to the Port of Southampton for my return to India. I cannot leave without knowing… I will pay for your services, sir.” He continued in spite of the emotion in his voice. “Whatever it may take to find the person responsible for this.”
* * *
It was well into the evening when we left Captain Mathison. We were nearest to Mayfair and Brodie directed the driver there.
He had been there before, but not since we had returned from the north.
Prior to that he had stayed over at the townhouse for one reason or another. But that had changed since our return. I told myself that it was undoubtedly my imagination that something seemed changed about Brodie as well.
We had not discussed his unexpected proposal at the conclusion of that previous case. He had simply said that he would give me time.
Did I have misgivings?
After living on my own the past few years, with my travels and now the success of my writing career, why did I hesitate?
Was I afraid that marriage would prevent me from those things? That he might object to my travels, or the time I needed to write my next novel? An endeavor that required what I referred to as myalone time, where the ideas simmered and then bubbled to the surface as my character Emma Fortescue encountered her different adventures?
Those did not seem to be obstacles. Brodie had always fully supported my novel writing endeavors and even inquired from time-to-time whatMiss Emmawas up to at the present with what seemed to be genuine interest.
As for my travels, I had admittedly seen most of the places that I had an interest in with the exception of Australia, which would have required several months absence.
I had to admit that with my participation in our inquiry cases I had far less interest in traveling.
I found the cases fascinating and exciting, not to mention challenging. It was most satisfying to help solve a crime. And if I was completely honest about it, the dangerous part of it all was thrilling as well. Not to mention that they provided new challenges for the protagonist of my novels which seemed to appeal to my readers.
Of course, Brodie had commented more than once that I had to be completely deranged to have such interest. He’d never known a woman with a penchant for solving crime, and warned there would come a time when a case might be too difficult or the business of murder might become overwhelming.
Then there was the fact that we were from completely different backgrounds. Yet, there had never been anyone who understood me the way Brodie did, in spite of his grousing and occasional explosions of temper over something I had done. Most usually that involved some risk on my part.
I knew that he valued my ideas and thoughts as no one ever had, even as he challenged me. He made me think beyond the obvious for some deeper hidden clue or motive. And then… There was that other part of our relationship.
“Scandal!”Those of proper society undoubtedly whispered and lectured their virginal daughters against such things— such things being an affair with a man not of their class. I didn’t give a fig what they thought, or said.
Our arrangement— relationship, association, or whatever one chose to call it, I thought suited us both very well. At least it had seemed to.
