It was still difficult to believe that a deed to such a home had been placed in their names. To jointly own a property was a strange a notion, especially for two people who had just barely started courting. Neither of them would have ever been able to afford such a place, and it felt wrong in principle to be simply handed it. What were they to do with it?
That Francine and the Inspector might have carried on a clandestine relationship, and that it was now benefiting Leo and Jasper, also bothered her.
She tried to shake off her underlying sense of disappointment in the Inspector as she and Jasper shared a cab to Westminster. It wasn’t her place to judge Gregory Reid, especially when she did not have all the pertinent information and when both he and Francine were unable to speak for themselves.
Jasper had the cab deliver Leo home first before continuing on to Charles Street. She brought out her key and let herself into the house.
“Uncle Claude?” she called. Even though it was before noon and Aunt Flora would not yet be taking an afternoon nap, Leo kept her voice low. Loud noises perturbed her aunt as of late, and both she and Claude were careful to do all they could to avoid agitating her. For Leo, that meant attempting to stay out of her way as much as possible. What had at first been a slow deterioration of her mind had, for several months now, been gaining in speed and destruction, and with it, more anger, oftentimes directed toward Leo.
In her confused state, Flora blamed Leo for the murders of Leonard and Andromeda Spencer, and two of their three children, Jacob and Agnes. Leo suspected this was because she resembled her father, whom Flora blamed for the slaughter of her beloved younger sister and her family. Her aunt wasn’t entirely wrong to blame him. Recently, Leo had discovered that he’d worked for the East Rips and betrayed the Carter family in some way, and that they had brutally murdered the Spencers as punishment.
Just Leo had been spared, and that was only because Jasper had been sent along with the killers that night. He'd been directed to the attic to look for the little girl who was missingand to take care of her once he found her. It was meant to be his initiation of sorts, as at the age of thirteen, he was considered man enough to silence any enemies of his family. Jasper had found her, but he’d hidden her rather than harm her, even knowing that his refusal to kill her would have dire consequences for him.
“Oh, thank goodness, there you are,” Claude called out in reply, his voice emanating from the kitchen. “Was it the weather? There were rather terrible storms here.”
Leo made her way to the back of the house, the familiarity of the modest home snug and inviting compared to the yawning spaces of the manor where she’d been trapped overnight. To Leo’s surprise, Dita Brooks was seated at the small kitchen table with her uncle. Her circumspect brown eyes locked onto Leo as soon as she came through the door.
“Uncle Claude did not care for my theory, which was that the evil viscount had lured you and Inspector Reid there under false pretenses,” she said with a devious arch of her brow.
Leo went to the hob to fix herself tea; she’d had a bitter cup from a vendor at the Harrow station and nothing else all morning. “And what did you imagine he had in store for us?” she asked her friend.
Dita, who had always been more fanciful than Leo, replied, “Oh, I don’t know, something having to do with an old grudge and a damp dungeon.”
Claude peered over the rims of his thick-lensed spectacles at Dita with the indulgent expression of someone who knew reprimanding her would be ineffective. Leo only shook her head and chuckled at the gothic plot.
“I thought I told you to stop reading dramatic novels,” she said. “My uncle is correct; it was the storm that prevented us from returning last night. The tracks were flooded, as were the roads.” She poured her tea and joined them at the table. There,Flora sat with some knitting in her lap. Her thin, mottled hands worked a pair of knitting needles expertly, the scarf she was creating well-formed.
“Mrs. Zhao is to be commended,” Leo said softly.
Jasper’s housekeeper had offered to come sit with Flora a few times a week, and she’d had the notion that a handicraft might calm Flora’s otherwise agitated mind. Leo’s aunt had often knitted when she was younger, and the skill had returned with astonishing precision.
“I am grateful to her,” Claude murmured.
With Jasper planning to be gone for several months, Mrs. Zhao, who was accustomed to being busy, had needed something more to do. Claude had readily accepted her offer to sit with Flora, as he had been given the opportunity to join Tate’s Funeral Service. Tate’s had often collected the corpses directly from the Spring Street Morgue while Claude had been coroner there, and the owners had appealed to him to join them as their embalmer. The task took a certain steely constitution to oversee, and Claude was perfect for the position. And like Mrs. Zhao, Claude had missed having an occupation. These last few months, he’d visibly been rejuvenated.
Leo’s stomach growled, announcing her hunger, and Dita shoved the cutting board with bread and cheese toward her from the center of the table.
“I can’t stay long. My new job begins at noon sharp, and it won’t do to be late,” she explained. “So, do hurry up and tell us what happened at the reading of that woman’s will.”
Belatedly, Leo recognized that the blue-and-yellow-striped dress Dita was wearing was new. A wide, blue ribbon accentuated the cinched waist, and underneath, an S-shaped bustle looked acutely uncomfortable for sitting. It was clearly a uniform of some sort.
“Where is your new job?” Leo asked. But Dita shook her head.
“I’ll tell you after. It’s not nearly as exciting as a mysterious will reading.”
With her uncle and Dita both staring at her expectantly, Leo took a deep breath and revealed what Francine Stroud had given to her and Jasper. As she spoke, Dita’s jaw loosened and dropped, and Claude leaned forward, bracing one elbow on the table and cupping his cheek in awe.
“But that part of town is… well, it’s so affluent,” Dita gasped, blinking rapidly as if a bright light had shone into her eyes. “Why would this woman have given it to you and Jasper? I thought the Inspector had nothing to do with his late wife’s family after she died.”
Leo was happy she’d taken a bite of the bread. Chewing and swallowing gave her a few extra moments to sort through her reply. She did not want to tell them about the letter from Francine and the request that they investigate Teddy’s death. Not right now, at least, with Flora seated near them. She seemed to be in her own little world as she knit, but any talk of death, or especially of dead children, upset her greatly.
“It seems the Inspector and Mrs. Stroud maintained an acquaintance after all,” Leo chose to say. “A friendship even.”
“In secret?” Dita asked.
Leo nodded, again feeling the dull cut of something too close to betrayal. The Inspector hadn’t exactly lied; but he had concealed this relationship with his wife’s sister. Then again, it really hadn’t been any of Leo’s business. There was no rational reason for her to be upset by it, particularly since both the Inspector and Mrs. Stroud were now dead.
“To give you and Jasper a property that must be worth thousands of pounds and overlook her own children… That isextremely odd, isn’t it?” Dita asked. She was right, of course. But Leo had no answer to give.
