A Study in Silks (73 page)

“How far will you go?” They both knew she meant with her.

He gave her a dark look. “If I think there is a threat, I will
take care of it.” Then he wavered, a little of the hardness falling from his expression. “I can’t be the man either of us wants anymore. And there’s too much between us now.”

“You said you loved me a moment ago.” But the words were pointless. He was right.
You shot my uncle
. That was bad enough. What was worse was that until she’d figured out the truth, he’d been willing to live with that secret every time he kissed her.

Tobias Roth was a coward and a liar.
I was right. I can’t afford him
.

She wet her lips, at a loss for anything else to say. There was one more mystery solved, for whatever good it did her. “I need to leave. My uncle is waiting for me.”

There was a tense moment. She had his secret. What was he going to do now?

“Then you had better go,” he said at last. There was no warmth in his voice now, as if he had made some final decision to put his fate in her hands.

Evelina didn’t want anything from him, least of all that.

She had finished packing. She picked up her bag. One foot shakily before the other, she made for the door.

“Evelina.”

“Your secrets are safe,” she said in a small voice.

“One thing you should know.”

She turned, already sure it would be a mistake. “What?”

His eyes were hollow with dread and sadness, but there was ice there, too. “My father asked me to seduce you.”

She flinched, as if his words were slender, deadly blades. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Everything I said.” He sucked in a breath, his lips pressed together so hard they turned white. “Utterly false. Always.”

Pain sliced her, bringing a flush of shame to her cheeks. She knew he was lying, lashing out through his hurt. Or maybe he was doing what he believed he had to, freeing both of them so he could save the family fortune.

He still wounded the most tender part of her soul.

“If that’s how you want it,” she whispered.

“It’s better to make a clean end, don’t you think?” His voice was as expressionless as lead.

Without a word, Evelina turned on her heel and walked away. She meant to stop and say good-bye to Imogen, but her feet wouldn’t slow as she marched down the stairs. She couldn’t face anyone right then.

Tears ached behind her eyes, waiting for the least excuse to fall, but she held them in. She was a lady. She had been presented to the queen. She was made of finer steel than Tobias Roth could shatter.

But defiance soured to uneasiness in the time it took to reach the door of Hilliard House. Tobias was willing to kill. She knew his secrets.

It didn’t take a Holmes to add up that equation. There was no question of belonging here now.

EVELINA WAS EAGER TO BE GONE, AND LORD BANCROFT WAS
eager for her to go. His own carriage took her to Baker Street, where she would stop for the night before returning to her grandmother in the morning.

She found her uncle was waiting up for her, browsing his books of chemistry. Dr. Watson wasn’t there, apparently returned at last to the long-suffering Mrs. W.

“Uncle? I thought you would have retired for the night.”

He raised a hand. “Please, I have had enough coddling from Mrs. Hudson and the good doctor. No more.”

She didn’t care. He looked awful. “Why are you still up?”

He settled against the cushions of the chair, his expression defensive. “I was merely reviewing the case in my mind. There is only one outstanding question.”

She sat down wearily. “What is that?”

“The voices you heard at eleven o’clock the night of the murder.”

“It could have been anyone,” Evelina replied. “Does it matter?”

“Not necessarily.” He snapped the book shut. “It’s merely a species of maggot that will not leave my mind. I have expected all along to discover a witness who saw Dr. Magnus the night of the murder. The police sought reports of a lone man and found nothing. But there were many reports of a tall, dark man in company with a woman. Perhaps he had an accomplice? Did you not find a female footprint by Grace Child’s body?”

“I did,” she said, sitting up straight. She remembered the night Magnus returned Bird, when she was talking to Inspector
Lestrade. What was it Bird had told her?
The hedge deva said the man and his shadow came here more than once
.

Tobias and Grace weren’t the first couple outside the side door that night. She had utterly forgotten. “I’m an idiot. There was a witness—no one of importance,” she said quickly in response to her uncle’s questioning look. “There was another couple outside the door. I suppose it was their voices I heard.”

“Then who were they?” Holmes asked. “Was Magnus working with someone?”

“Every time I saw the doctor, he was alone.”

“No wife or lover? No one to play the accomplice in skirts?”

“No. None. Nick said he lived alone, without even servants. And the witness who saw the couple described them as a man and his shadow. Apparently they’d been there more than once.”

“If they were the culprits who murdered Grace and stole the automatons, they were no doubt getting the lay of the land. But a shadow? Are we dealing with doppelgangers now? Crazed shadow-men with blades?” Her uncle grimaced.

“I feel like I’ve been chasing shadows.” Evelina wrinkled her brow, speaking mostly in jest. “Is that our second murderer? A ghost with a blade?”

“How utterly distasteful. Not to mention preposterous. If maniacal spirits are the order of the day, I am retiring. I would rather believe Magnus wielded the knife himself.”

Evelina wanted to say something clever to that, but weariness left nothing but a blank in her brain. “He did, didn’t he?”

“It seems the likeliest answer, but the evidence is all circumstantial. There is nothing that would hold up before a judge.”

That left a queasy feeling in her stomach. She wanted certainty, but Holmes wouldn’t give it to her just for the sake of comfort. “Before you were shot, you said there were two unknowns. One was Harriman. Was the other this mysterious woman?”

“Perhaps. Recall also our two grooms. There was plenty of time for our killer to leave Hilliard House and catch up with them, but would one person have the strength to subdue two burly men?”

“There has to have been an accomplice,” she said softly. “Magnus said that he didn’t wield the blade himself, and I’m inclined to believe him.”

“Hm. And we may never know who that was, beyond the suggestion that it
might
have been a woman. I have, of course, apprised Lestrade of the facts. If there is a hint of new information, I will follow it up, just as I am alert to any new information about the death of the Chinese workers. Lestrade will question Harriman about their deaths, but I want to make sure the case is closed properly. It is too little and too late, but we owe them justice for what was done to them on our shores.”

“Indeed we do.” She shuddered, remembering the gruesome news reports of bodies in the Thames. Grace’s slashed throat. The grooms she’d spied on and then were later found still and cold. There had been too much tragedy.

At least Magnus was gone. It was some comfort. Evelina sighed. “I assumed somehow this would be resolved.”

“You mean, when I arrived I would wave the stem of my pipe and all would become clear?” Holmes looked uncharacteristically sympathetic and rather amused. “You flatter me.”

“But how will Grace get justice?”

“That is the sad truth of crime. She may not—but I will do my best to see to it that she does. Not all cases are solved overnight.”

Evelina bowed her head. “I had no idea detecting took such stamina.”

Her uncle snorted. “When Watson writes his stories he skips over the dull bits. Crime solving takes mind-numbing patience and rather a lot of hard work.”

“So I discovered.” She shifted wearily in her chair. “I finally have a true appreciation for what you do.” And right now, she hoped to never need investigate another case. Detection
sounded romantic and interesting on paper, but the real thing involved death and broken hearts.

Another thought inserted itself, seemingly at random. She spoke before thinking. “None of this would have any connection to this Baskerville business, would it?”

“No,” Holmes said flatly, making her wish she’d held her tongue. “Various players in this piece have connections to the rebels and others I think wish they had, but the murder of the serving girl was an entirely different tragedy.”

Evelina digested that and wondered why the topic made him so prickly. “Then you know who has rebel sympathies?”

“I’m speculating. Politics is Mycroft’s area of expertise, not mine. I prefer pursuits based on some form of logic. Do you perceive any other loose ends in the case?” Holmes asked, clearly changing the subject.

Annoyed by his abruptness, Evelina couldn’t help being blunt. “Tobias shot you.”

“I know.”

Of course he did, the wretch. “You might have mentioned it.”

“I thought it best if you figured that out for yourself. You bore the young man some affection.”

Evelina lifted her hands, then dropped them to her sides in a gesture of sheer exasperation. “I did. Both him and Nick. I wanted them to be innocent.”

“Neither of them killed the maid.”

“Tobias turned killer and Nick turned thief.” Her voice rose with fury. “Are all young men so hopelessly thick?”

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. “They are both in love with you and both are pushed into impossible corners. Tobias is desperately struggling to keep his family from ruin. An admirable goal, although I question his methods.”

“By killing you?”

“He isn’t the first who tried.” Her uncle gave a wry smile. “And your Niccolo is a bright young man with absolutely no legal method for betterment open to him. How is he ever to win your hand?”

All the dammed-up tears inside her started to fall. “I love them both. I ruined their lives.”

“That is rather a dramatic assertion, and a rather egotistical one. I will grant you love is rarely convenient. I’m told that’s part of its charm.” With a vaguely disgusted look, Holmes produced a pocket handkerchief and passed it over.

Evelina sniffed, and there was nothing dainty about it. “I thought for a moment, right when I was being presented, that somehow my future would be guaranteed. That wasn’t true.”

“That’s why I never approved of the presentation scheme. It wasn’t my idea, you know.”

She blinked at him. “It wasn’t?”

“It was Keating’s, and a waste of time. Empty ceremony was never going to contribute one iota to your ultimate happiness. You and I are sadly alike.”

She had nothing to say to that.

Holmes waved a dismissive hand. “Perhaps by the time you graduate from your women’s college, Tobias will be a steam baron in his own right and Niccolo will rule the criminal underworld. Then we can reassess your future plans.”

“You aren’t going to turn them over to Inspector Lestrade?”

“Heavens, no. This is far too interesting. Now go to bed.”

Evelina obeyed, moving slowly. Mrs. Hudson stopped her on the stairs, handing her an envelope.

“This just came for you, Miss Cooper. A grim-looking gentleman he was, but he was nicely dressed. He just left it, and said he would call some other time.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Hudson.” Evelina took the letter, and continued on.

Exhaustion dragged at her feet, and she was infinitely glad to see the small, tidy room the landlady had prepared for her. Mouse and Bird were chasing each other over the dressing table in a complicated game of tag, bickering as they scampered over the soap and towels her hostess had left out. They had both volunteered to go with her to her grandmother’s. Earth devas rarely traveled, and they were eager to see a new part of the world.

She took a closer look at the envelope. It was fine cream
paper addressed in a bold, sweeping hand.
Miss Evelina Cooper
. The red wax seal was marked with a plain circle. Curious to see who had sent it—she’d only been at Baker Street for a half hour, so who knew she was there?—she broke the wax and unfolded the note. It was dated that day.

She dropped the note back to the dressing table as if it were red-hot. “Impossible,” she said aloud. He was dead. Nick had seen him die.

“What is it?”

Evelina whirled around. Imogen was in the doorway, a plaintive look on her face.