Page 20 of Murder on Cold Street
“You were not!” huffed Lady Holmes. “You would have left without saying a word.”
“And could you blame me, my lady, given the harshness of your goodbyes?”
Women newly acquainted with Sir Henry sometimes considered him suave and charming. Livia, after nearly twenty-eight years under his roof, only found him both unctuous and mean-spirited.
“How could you leave now? It’s almost Christmas, and Christmas should be spent at home.”
“Since you think so, you should by all means remain home for Christmas, my lady. I wish you a most joyful holiday filled with warmth and festiveness.”
The sound of footsteps headed for the front door.
Livia stole forward until she was at the top of the stairs and had a clear line of sight to the front hall. Her father, in his traveling cloak, stood before the door to the vestibule, a large satchel in his hand. Her mother had just caught up with him, her heavy bosom heaving, her fussy winter cap askew.
“But even if you don’t care about spending Christmas at home,” she shouted, “shouldn’t you spare a thought for your pocketbook? You’ll be spending money we don’t have to please your selfish self!”
“Ah, but that is not true,” answered Sir Henry, his voice dripping with smugness. “I recently came into possession of one hundred pounds.”
“One hundred pounds? How? From where?”
The same questions echoed in Livia’s head until she remembered the deal Charlotte had made with their father to give him one hundred pounds every year.
“You need not concern yourself with that, my lady, save to know that it is indeed so.”
“Then how could you be so cruel as to not take me with you on holiday, if there is money to spend?”
Sir Henry grinned, a superior, callous expression that made Livia wince. “But you yourself insisted just now that you should remain home for Christmas. Who am I to gainsay you, my lady?”
And with that, he sauntered out, leaving his wife to sputter with impotent rage.
Had Charlotte imagined that Sir Henry would spend the entirety of his windfall on himself? Or that Livia would be left alone with a seething Lady Holmes?
She tiptoed backward, but not quickly enough. Her mother turned around and saw her. “You! Peeping from the shadows again! Did you see it all? Did you see what a dastardly scoundrel your father was? And why are you still here, you old maid? Why can’t you find a good man—or any living, breathing man—to marry you and take you off my hands?”
Livia fled, back to her room, back to her desk, back inside a story where the villains weren’t her own parents.
Six
Despite the rain, reporters and curiosity-seekers thronged the pavement in front of Mrs. Treadles’s house, their small forest of black umbrellas spilling into the street. As Charlotte drew near, a large laundry basket under her arm to complete her laundry-maiddisguise, a murmur of excitement rippled through the crowd.
She stopped beside a woman, most likely a maid from a nearby house, at the edge of the herd. “Pardon me, miss, but why are there so many people? And everybody a-quakin’?”
The woman placed a hand over her heart. “You don’t know? Goodness, but the inspector what lives in this house got himself arrested for murder.Twomurders. And they said another inspector from Scotland Yard just went in to see his missus.”
Charlotte had come as quickly as she could, in the hope of speaking to Mrs. Treadles before Inspector Brighton did. It would seem she was still too late.
“Oh my,” she moaned. “What’s the world coming to? And me with washin’ to deliver to the house.”
This earned her an enthusiastic reply. “Well, then ask them on the inside what’s going on. I’m dying to know!”
Charlotte broke through the crowd. As was typical of such town houses, next to the front door there was a wrought iron fence thatenclosed a set of steps going down to the service entrance. Onlookers hung over the fence, watching her descend.
At the service entrance she knocked loudly. “I’ve yer washin’ ’ere!”
The door was opened by a tense-looking woman of about fifty years of age. “We’ve already got—”
Charlotte handed over a slip of paper on which was written,I am Miss Holmes. Here to see Mrs. Treadles at her behest.
The woman’s expression relaxed somewhat, but her tone remained severe. “You’d best come in out of the rain then and close the door quick. Never seen so many idlers in my whole life.”
