He plucked a handkerchief from within his coat and mopped his brow. “Thank you, Your Graces. If that will be all, I should return to the counter, where Mr. Cowling prefers me to be.”
Hudson nodded. “That is all, Mr. Seward. You may go.”
The other man wasted no time in scurrying from the room, leaving Elysande and Hudson alone for a moment. All the questions churning in her mind rose to the forefront.
“He seemed slightly nervous, did he not?” she whispered.
“He did.” Hudson’s frown deepened.
She blurted out the next question weighing on her mind. “Do you believe he was being truthful?”
“I do not know what to believe just yet,” he said quietly. “He seemed reasonably honest, but only time and further investigation shall tell. I do believe we have managed to gather all the answers we shall find here for now. But there is one more place I must seek before we go.”
A sick sensation in her belly told her what that place was, but she asked anyway. “Where is it?”
He met her gaze, a muscle in his jaw tensing. “To my rooms.”
Chapter 10
Elysande told herself she did not want to see Hudson’s bachelor rooms. Not because he had lived there alone, likely entertaining a host of ladies within over the course of the years. Although, to be fair, that thought set her teeth on edge. No, indeed.
She did not want to see his rooms for the plain and simple reason that a woman had met her violent end there not long ago. She had no notion of what the interior would reflect. Would there be blood? Gore? Small clues that another woman had been within, hoping to share her own husband’s bed?
The thoughts combined and made bile rise in her throat.
They climbed the stairs in tense silence. For Hudson, it was the first time he had returned to the rooms since that awful night. For Elysande, it was the first time seeing her husband’s life as it had been before their marriage. As it had been during their time apart. He unlocked the door and hesitated before opening it, turning to Elysande.
“Perhaps you ought to wait in the carriage while I go inside.”
She was having none of that, despite her inner turmoil. “I want to go with you.”
For both their sakes, she felt it imperative that she accompany him.
“I have no notion of what awaits,” he said, his expression guarded.
“I have already prepared myself, Hudson. Where you go, I shall follow. I cannot help you to solve this murder if I am left in the darkness because of my tender sensibilities.” She raised her chin, feeling mulish. “I was raised to believe myself the equal of any man. I have worked at my father’s side in his workshop for years.”
Hudson’s full lips tightened into a thin line. “Murder is not the same, Ellie. You have never witnessed the ugly aftermath as I have, and I would spare you that.”
Her resolve remained firm as ever, but she was pleased his hesitation was to protect her instead of some misguided notion. Heaven knew she had witnessed more than her fair share of wrongheaded opinions about the fairer sex.
She touched her husband’s arm. “Please, Hudson. Allow me to come with you. I meant what I said. I do not want you to face this alone.”
He nodded, then opened the door, waiting for her to enter first. She crossed the threshold hesitantly. There was an eerie stillness in the chamber, but it was tidy. The curtains were closed, leaving shadows everywhere. Hudson moved past her to pull them aside, sending light over the darkness. A small stove occupied one wall, along with a table and chairs. Everything was neat and tidy.
Except for the blood.
Her heart beat faster as she spotted the first traces of it. Drops on the floor in a trail leading from the darkened room at the opposite end of the main chamber to the door. The blood must have dripped from either Mrs. Ainsley, or the killer himself.
“Likely, it would have dripped from the murderer’s blade,” Hudson said, as if he had read her thoughts. “Or perhaps his hands.”
The urge to retch was strong. She swallowed hard against another rush of bile. “Of course. That makes sense.”
Hudson was pale and somber. “This is too much for you. I should not have allowed it.”
“It is not too much,” she denied. “I want to examine the rooms. Perhaps there are clues left behind, something Scotland Yard overlooked.”
There remained the troubling matter of Chief Inspector O’Rourke having given Hudson conflicting—and incorrect—information. But neither of them spoke about that now. There would be time aplenty to discuss the implications of their interview with Mr. Seward later.
