The treats were a variety of candies and fruit in cloth bags that included a half penny to pay the Headless Horseman from the Legend of Sleepy Hollow. He was lurking at the entrance to the forest tunnel that had been installed on the guest’s way to the tables of food that had been set out.
Afterward, as guests began to depart to their rooms or to coaches for those who chose to return home, Brodie escorted us to our room.
Lily was bubbling with excitement over the tunnel, the costumes of the other guests, and the different entertainments that had been provided.
“I ain’t never seen nothin’ like it,” she exclaimed for what had to be the dozenth time as King Arthur led the charge to our room.
To say that my aunt’s party was an enormous success was an understatement, particularly for one young lady— King Arthur that is.
Brodie had leaned in close. “Does she ever quiet down?”
I reminded him that my aunt’s party was something she had never experienced before.
“I hate to think what her reaction might be if yer aunt was to take her on safari with her. The place might never be the same again.”
I smiled at that. It was a thought. It might prove an excellent experience, although I wasn’t certain who would be more the child on such a trip— Lily or my aunt.
“I will see ye at the office in the mornin’,” Brodie said in parting.
“Is it about the case?” I had asked with the distinct feeling, in that way that I had come to know when he had learned something that he considered important.
He glanced past me through the open doorway where Lily was still chattering about the party even though there was no one else in the room. He simply repeated that he would see me in the morning and left.
Once inside our room, I listened to Lily go on and on about the evening as I recalled my first experience at one of my aunt’s parties as a child. She certainly had a lot of catching up to do in that regard.
And then there was Brodie’s parting comment.
When I realized that Lily had been silent for some time, I looked over to find that she had fallen asleep, the wooden sword in bed beside her.
I removed the sword and crawled into bed as well. However, it was some time before I fell asleep, Brodie’s parting comment poking at me.
Infuriating man.
Twelve
I arrivedat the office midmorning after leaving Lily in my sister’s care, the pair to make their way from the hotel back to Sussex Square later that day.
I was certain that I must have heard about the party the night before no less than a dozen times. In spite of it, it was most entertaining and more than a little touching as I listened before leaving the Grosvenor.
I had proposed bringing Lily to London as a way of providing her more in life— an education and some means of taking care of herself beyond working as a maid in a brothel. I had not anticipated the rest of it— the genuine pleasure and happiness it gave her. And myself.
After leaving the hotel I returned to the townhouse at Mayfair, washed away what was left of my make-up from the night before, dressed in something more appropriate than a pirate’s costume, then called for a cab.
As I waited for the driver, Mrs. Ryan followed me about. She provided breakfast and coffee— a great deal of it considering what little sleep I’d had the night before, with her endless questions about the party.
Now, as I arrived at the Strand, the street had already been swept courtesy of crews whose job was to clear away the refuse. Only a few pumpkins were left, somewhat the worse for wear from revelers the night before.
They sat like disgruntled old men— heads only of course, grumbling amongst themselves in front of the tobacconist’s shop below the office on the street.
As I stepped from the coach, the hound emerged from the alcove, stretched, then greeted me with a lick of the hand.
Mr. Cavendish paddled out behind him on his platform. I provided cakes Mrs. Ryan had sent along with the complaint that she was not going to continue baking for just one person who rarely showed up. I reminded her that Mr. Cavendish was most fond of her cakes and biscuits.
“At least someone appreciates my hard work,” she had remarked as she handed over the cakes, then added, “and there’s enough for the hound as well.”
They did very much appreciate Mrs. Ryan’s efforts while I was most anxious to hear what Brodie had learned from his conversations with the two constables who had been on duty the night Amelia Mainwaring’s body was found.
My sister had made a comment that morning before I left the hotel, about photographs being considered art. There was a display at the London Museum that she had noticed when she and James Warren had spent an afternoon there a few weeks earlier before taking supper at his apartment. An evening and perhaps the entire night spent together? It did seem as if theiracquaintancehad progressed.
