Experience, as I knew only too well, was an excellent teacher and oftentimes a relentless task master.
I might have wished for her to be innocent of the things she had experienced. Yet, as my great aunt had once pointed out about myself after one of my adventuresome episodes, those experiences had made me who I was. I remembered what she said at the time of my adventure to a Greek Island, instead of a reprimand.
“I would not change a thing about you, dear girl, even if I could. You are intelligent. What you have experienced in the past has made you stronger because of it. I simply ask that after one of your adventures, you find your way back safely.”
And I had, after several adventures, including the inquiry cases I now undertook with Brodie.
He accepted me as I was—strong-willed to be certain, somewhat rash at times, a troublesome baggage as he often called me. Yet he was someone who understood me as no one ever had. I could do no less for Lily.
I understood her, the quiet strength that hid a temper that could be quite intimidating, the wounds deep inside that we both carried for different reasons that were really not so very different. Along with a certain amount of stubbornness.
And so, we returned briefly to the office on The Strand and made the few notes we had discovered while I’d been at a reading machine while she retrieved the next roll of film only to determine that there was almost nothing to be learned.
“What does it mean?” she inquired as we arrived at the office. Then, as if to answer her own question, “There were other articles about members of the royal family, but all of it was about vacations at the Isle of Wight, train trips north to Scotland, someone who was decorated for something, but nothing written about any incidents while the Prince of Wales was at university.”
We were able to find the film archive from the year 1861, but there were several editions of the daily that were missing. Perhaps damaged editions that could not be salvaged. Or…
“Perhaps removed,” I replied.
“Removed?”
“To prevent anyone reading it.”
“For what reason?”
“Possibly to prevent scandal,” I added, something I had been thinking on the way back to the office.
“Do ye believe the families of the young men might have had the articles removed?” Lily asked, that clever mind of hers working through the possibilities. “Perhaps the Queen?”
“I believe that certain people will go to great lengths to protect themselves or others.”
Lily had gone to the chalkboard upon our return and made a brief note,“missing information,”along with a reference to the Prince of Wales’s name.
“How will ye and Mr. Brodie learn if there is something connected to that missing information?”
I smiled to myself. She was already thinking about the next step.
“It may be necessary to meet with the Prince of Wales and ask the question.”
After our adventure at the Times archive and our return to The Strand, I accompanied her back to Sussex Square.
“Ye will tell me what ye learn,” she insisted as we parted in the foyer of the hall. “I want to help.”
I had the distinct impression that if we didn’t keep her informed, she might very well take herself off to make her own inquiries about the case.
“Of course, and if there is something you can assist with, I will let you know.”
“Yer word on it?”
“Yes,” I replied as I became aware that we were not alone in the foyer.
In that way that Munro came and went, often without a sound—no doubt from his days living on the streets with Brodie—he nodded a greeting, then informed Lily, “Her ladyship inquired if ye had returned.”
I caught the brief change in her expression from our conversation to some other reaction at the reminder.
“Yes, of course, Mr. Munro,” she replied somewhat frostily.
That was something different that I had noticed of late. They usually got along quite well. I did wonder if there had been a difficulty between them.
