Page 36 of An Unwilling Earl
It took a moment for Jacob’s mind to switch topics. “The women found in the Thames?” he asked.
“Yes. I spoke to Detective O’Leary.”
Detective O’Leary had been an unexpected boon to Jacob and Oliver. Jacob had met O’Leary while trying to run down a witness to a case that he’d been working on. He and O’Leary had had a drink at a local pub, and Jacob had asked him a question that had been vexing him and Armbruster regarding a murder at a local boarding house. O’Leary had supplied some information, and after that he had become somewhat of a friend of Jacob and Oliver’s. They were a strange trio—the earl, the solicitor, and the detective. Although now Jacob supposed there were two earls and a detective.
“All of them were stabbed repeatedly,” Armbruster said.
“Stabbed?” This was not something Jacob had heard before, but he was going by the newspaper articles which were deliberately holding information back per the request of Scotland Yard. “Is that how they were killed?”
Armbruster shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Interesting,” Jacob murmured.
What a strange, macabre mystery. Who was killing these women and why? None of them seem to be related in any way other than that they were of the serving class.
“It seems that removing the heads and hands means he doesn’t want them identified. The first two were missing only their heads so they couldn’t be identified. Then Scotland Yard reasoned they were servants by their worn and cracked hands, so he started cutting off their hands, too.”
“Why should the killer care if we know he’s killing servants? Killing is killing no matter the class of the person.”
“Because it narrows his hunting ground,” Oliver said. “Wherever it is that he’s hunting has to be a place where serving girls congregate. If they’re scared, they won’t go there.”
“Whoever is killing them has to be someone stronger. More likely a man. He’d subdue them quickly. Make sure they can’t fight. I can see stabbing them once to kill them. Maybe twice, if you didn’t do the job correctly the first time. But repeatedly?”
Armbruster shrugged. “Maybe he’s angry and he can’t control himself.”
They both thought about that for a moment but realized that they weren’t going to solve this one.
“Tell me about your investigation into Miss Morris,” Oliver said. “Have you had any luck?”
Jacob’s thoughts instantly changed course. “Not only have I had luck, I have her living in my home.”
Armbruster’s eyes widened. It wasn’t often that Jacob could surprise his friend.
“How did this happen?”
“She came to me. Do you remember the lad I saved from being trampled by the horse?” Jacob explained the entire story of how Charlotte had found him and how he’d convinced her to move in with him.
“It’s temporary?” Oliver didn’t seem convinced.
“Of course. She wants to create a new identity and go to America to teach American heiresses how to catch an English lord.”
Armbruster snorted. “Buchanan fell for that. Has himself a rich heiress who is keeping his estate afloat. She’s a bohemian, I’ve heard. Knows nothing about our ways. Speaks too candidly.” Oliver shook his head. “Maybe Miss Morris is on to something.”
“I think she should try to reconnect with her mother’s family, instead,” Jacob said. Even though Charlotte was adamant that her mother’s family wanted nothing to do with her, Jacob thought she should at least try. Fleeing to America seemed so drastic when she could possibly have the might of a marquess at her disposal.
“Chadley?” Armbruster seemed to consider this. “It might work. The old man is dead. Charlotte’s uncle is now the marquess. Feelings might have softened.”
“What better way to get her out of the clutches of that horrid aunt than by putting her in the hands of a powerful marquess?”
“And what if he harbors the same ire as his father? What if he won’t accept Charlotte back into the fold?”
“Then I suppose I send her to America.” But every time he considered putting Charlotte on a ship to America, his mind veered from the thought, as if it were too horrid.
Armbruster sat back and contemplated Jacob for the longest time. The servant brought them their usual port, and Jacob sipped on it, barely tasting it. His mind bounced from the mystery of the dead girls to Charlotte sitting in his home. There were moments that he couldn’t believe that the picture of her had come alive.
He was pulled from his miasma of thoughts by Armbruster’s intense gaze. “Well, out with it, man. What are you thinking so deeply about?” Jacob asked.
“Your future.”
