Eleanor was engaged to be married to James Allendale, a man from a notable family and also a member of Wimbledon. The photo in the police report in the newspaper had been delivered to Sir William Strachan the previous evening.
Eleanor Strachan was the third young woman in that original photograph taken at Wimbledon, and she was very obviously dead.
“Oh, dear.” Seemed so very inadequate.
“I’ve also had a call with Sir Avery regarding the case,” Brodie quietly added. “And I was able to speak with Inspector Mayhew.”
The chief inspector’s man.
“I can imagine how that might have been received.”
“The man has decided to cooperate with what he has learned.”
I could also imagine what might have persuaded him. Abberline was undoubtedly going to have a fit and fall in the middle of it over that.
“Abberline has been informed,” Brodie continued. He continued to watch me with that dark gaze.
“I am to keep him updated on what we have learned in the matter.”
I have discovered in the few but glaring moments of silence that the office is given to other sounds and noises— the creak of the wood floor underfoot, the snap of fire in the coal stove, and the sound of rain on the window as it turns to ice.
“Now, do ye want to tell me what happened with Talbot? It’s quite obvious something has ye upset.”
It did seem that he knew me quite well.
And then there was the tight control in his voice that I imagined more than one criminal had heard over the years.
I seriously considered staying with my story as far as it went and not getting into the rest of it.
However, I also considered that Brodie was most accomplished in dealing with lies and deceptions. He’d grown up with it, and then made a career of unraveling lies and deceptions in his time with the MP, and knew a deception when he heard one.
And then there was that other part of it…
I had no use for lies myself, however a slight stretch of the truth or an omission was useful from time to time.
I decided to go with the truth, and told him about my visit to Talbot’s studio. I did omit the part about the dark room although I did share with him about Talbot’s new project and his apparent fascination, even excitement I might say, about photographing dead bodies.
Brodie was quiet when I had finished, far too quiet, that dark gaze still watching me. I was prepared for the anger and undoubtedly a lecture abouttaking myself off without him, or in the very least with someone else— Munro perhaps or the hound for protection, as in the past.
But there was something else there as well. He stood as if he couldn’t remain confined to the chair, and poured himself another dram of whisky. He didn’t offer any to me, and quickly drained his own glass then poured another.
“Do ye know what it does to me when you don’t return as ye said ye would, the sort of things that go through my head that might have happened to ye? It’s like a madness because I canna control it, I canna help ye if something should happen… and because I know what’s out there.”
He stopped me when I would have spoken. He obviously wasn’t through and poured another bit of whisky and just as quickly downed it.
“Ye tear my heart out, lass,” he said softly. “In a way I’ve not felt for a good many years. And I know that I canna change ye, nor do I want to as much as it terrifies me that I might lose ye, because I know that’s who ye are— brave and strong, and that’s part of the reason I want ye so.”
He walked toward me.
I have never been afraid of Brodie, and wasn’t afraid now. However, I was afraid of the words as if they were being ripped from his throat.
“I’ve never known anyone like ye and I want more than anythin’ to have ye in my life, to share my life with ye. But it if means that I might lose ye because of it and what’s out there…”
I stopped him. I was prepared to be logical, to argue that I had found information that was valuable, and that I wasn’t really in any danger at all. I was prepared to be angry, to defend what I had done, and not apologize for it.
All of that disappeared like smoke on the wind.
I knew the rest of what he would have said when I stopped him, that he was prepared to end it— our association, the inquiries… and his proposal.
