A Study in Darkness (32 page)

“Ah, I see.” Understanding flickered across Hyacinth’s face. She had been hard to live with, but never stupid. “Poor Evelina. Toby always did have that Byronic ennui down to a science.”

Evelina nearly choked on her beer. Gareth pounded her on the back.

“Good health, Mr. Roth, from all the whores in Whitechapel.” Hyacinth raised her glass. She took a sip and swallowed, the muscles working in her slender throat. “May your new bride bring you as much joy as you give her.”

The others laughed, Mary loudest of all. Regret needled at Evelina. It had been petty to drag Tobias’s name into the conversation—and yet she deserved some acknowledgment. She’d been disappointed. Maybe she could move on now that she’d had her tiny revenge.

Hyacinth turned to the others before Evelina could chase that idea any further. “And to Evelina.”

“Evelina,” the others repeated.

“Funny to think we came to say farewell to Annie. Who knew we’d be joined by a new old friend.”

“To Evelina,” said Mary Kelly, “and to Annie.”

“Annie?” Evelina whispered to Gareth.

“Annie Chapman,” he returned. “She used to drink here sometimes, too.”

Evelina turned the name around in her mind, and then remembered where she’d heard it. Annie Chapman was the most recent murder victim, found just down on Hanbury Street.

“Damn my eyes, I miss decent wine,” drawled Hyacinth, setting the glass down with a clunk.

Evelina ignored her, turning in her chair to scan the room. Somewhere in Whitechapel was a killer—a lunatic who was getting bolder and more violent with every kill.
And Annie Chapman drank in this place
. There was every chance he was sitting there with her in that room.

THERE WAS LITTLE IN LIFE MORE DISTASTEFUL THAN ADMITTING
one’s parents were right. Nevertheless, Tobias decided he had to act, even if he had only the vaguest notion of what that would entail.

He had planned and executed plenty of pranks, but reallife plans had never come easily. They had consequences, and that made him freeze up like a piss puddle in January. But one didn’t make a bonfire of one’s life without burning a few bridges. With gusto.

At least that’s what he told himself climbing into a hansom after sleeping in a hotel chair all night. Somewhere in the wee hours, while his bride moped upstairs, he’d had a flash of insight. But by the time he climbed down at Baker Street—at what was barely considered a civilized hour by Society—he wasn’t so sure sharing that brainstorm was a brilliant idea. Still, he had to do something.

But it didn’t look like it was going to be easy. There was a Yellowback on the porch of 221B Baker Street, and two more on the street, lounging against the posts of the gaslights. Tobias had known that the Gold King was keeping an eye on Holmes, but had no idea that was extending to an entire gang of thugs—because if he saw three, there were doubtless more.

“Mr. Roth?” said the one on the porch.

Tobias knew the face, but couldn’t place the name. “Good morning,” he replied, approaching the door and the Yellowback with what he hoped was careless unconcern.

“You have business with Mr. Holmes?” The guard’s eyebrows rose in inquiry. There were a thousand questions on his face, at least half of them along the lines of
What the bleeding hell is a bridegroom fresh from his wedding doing on a detective’s doorstep?

Tobias reached for the knocker. He’d be damned before he explained himself to one of Keating’s Rottweilers.

The guard caught his wrist, the iron strength in his grip momentary, but a clear warning. “Don’t do anything that might disappoint Mr. Keating.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Tobias ground out between clenched teeth, holding the Yellowback’s gaze until the guard began to smirk.

“Allow me.” The thug knocked, giving three sharp raps.

Tobias snatched his arm away, straightening his jacket. It was only then that he realized that he was still wearing his wedding clothes, a wine stain dribbling down his shirtfront.
Brilliant
.

A gray-haired woman answered the knock. She looked first at the Yellowback with fear and barely concealed dislike. Then she turned to Tobias.

“May I help you, sir?” She looked him up and down with that disconcerting way women had of sizing one up and filing one away. He guessed he’d landed under “I” for idiot.

“I’m here to see Mr. Holmes,” he said in his most ingratiating manner.

Her eyebrows lifted a fraction. “Is he expecting you?”

“I was bound to turn up eventually.”

She gave him a confused look.

“Just tell him it’s Tobias Roth.”

A few minutes later, he was ushered into the great man’s domain. Holmes was sprawled lengthwise on the couch, ankles crossed, smoking a long-stemmed pipe. Despite his apparent idleness, his fingers twitched nervously. Tobias was reminded of a leopard he’d seen caged at a zoo, just the tip of its tail thrashing. Holmes was every bit as hemmed in.

Tobias stood marooned in the center of the bearskin rug, unsure whether to sit or remain standing where Holmes could view him from his prone position.

“Are you here to shoot me a second time?” Holmes said dryly.

Tobias wasn’t surprised that Holmes knew he had been the one to pull the trigger. After all, Evelina had figured it out fast enough, despite his efforts at secrecy.
I can’t do anything right
.

“Not today,” he said lightly. “Forgot my revolver.”

“Good. I do believe Mrs. Hudson might turn me out if there was another incident so soon after the bombing.”

“Bombing?” Evelina had mentioned something about a bomb, but he’d never quite figured out what she’d meant. Had someone finally got annoyed enough with Holmes to blast him to smithereens?

“Yes. Didn’t you notice the fine gentlemen outside? I’m told they’re here for my safety. I can’t stir a foot without one of them on my heels. I fear I have become the prize in a fearsome game of capture the flag.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Blue and Gold are vying for the privilege of either blowing me up or owning my genius. Flattering, but annoying in the extreme.”

A phrase nagged at Tobias’s memory—something Keating had let slip about ensuring Evelina’s good behavior. It was one of those sideways mutterings he’d chosen to ignore because there was so much else to worry about in the post-kiss debacle, but now he wondered if this was what his father-in-law had meant. Evelina behaved, or Holmes paid the price.
Why? That doesn’t even make sense
. No, it was more likely a spat between Keating and King Coal.

Holmes swung his legs around, sitting up and waving a hand toward the basket chair. “Sit. Tell me why you braved your master’s hounds to be in my study the morning after your wedding.”

Tobias sat. “I’m sorry. About the shooting, I mean.”

“And so you should be, but that is not why you are here.”

“It’s about Evelina.”

“Of course it is.” Holmes’s voice was suddenly like ice.

The room temperature dropped to freezing, leaving Tobias longing for the door. “I’m sorry about that, too.”

“It seems to me that you have a great many regrets for such a young man.”

“I need to find Evelina.”

“Why?” Holmes snapped. “So you can disappoint your wife as well as my niece?”

“I want her to be all right!” Tobias jumped out of the chair, unable to keep still a moment longer.

Holmes’s expression chilled another degree. “And you think she is not?”

“I don’t know. We all thought she’d gone to Devonshire after she left Maggor’s Close. Keating told everyone that her grandmother was sick. I knew that wasn’t true, but I still believed she’d returned to the country. But then my friend—well, not really a friend anymore—Smythe turned up and said no one had seen her in Devonshire, so I thought she must have come to you. But now I’m in London, and no one has seen her here, either. All through my own wedding reception, I kept hearing rumors that she’s run away. What is the truth, Mr. Holmes?”

There was a moment of perfect silence. Tobias could hear the noise from the street, the clatter of pans downstairs. Finally, Holmes spoke. “I am no wiser than you.”

“How is that possible? You’re the Great Detective.”

Holmes gave him a cold look. “I sent telegrams. Your friend is correct. Evelina did not go to my mother’s house. I have inquiries with all the members of her father’s family whom I can locate. She did not return to the vicinity of her old school, or show up on my brother Mycroft’s doorstep.”

Tobias curled his lip. “If I were you, I would be doing more than lying on the couch smoking a pipe.”

“You have no notion of how I work.”

Tobias scanned the room, counting the bottles of strange chemicals, the knives and pistols scattered among the clutter, even a spear with a tuft of feathers near the razor-sharp head. He had a pretty good idea of how Holmes worked once he put his mind to it. There had to be material his doctor
friend never included in his stories. But then again, how effective could Holmes be with the Yellowbacks camped outside? And if they trailed after him like pet wolves, they’d no doubt frighten any witnesses into mute silence.

Tobias tempered his tone. “Did you check with that other friend of hers? The horseman?”

“The Indomitable Niccolo. Yes, I have set about getting word to him as well. Never fear, I have eyes in a great many places.”

“So does my father-in-law.”

“You saw them on the way in, did you? There are far fewer than there were. I can actually give them the slip now, if I put my mind to it.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

His words finally caught the detective’s attention. “Could it be that you have something useful to say?”

“The night Evelina arrived at Maggor’s Close, there was an incident.” Tobias felt his face heat, even while his heart seemed to shrivel in his chest. Something in him had died that night.

“Oh, I know all about that.” Holmes leaned back against the sofa, but his eyes were completely alert. “I’ve heard the details. You were lucky to escape with your virtue intact.”

Tobias clenched his jaw. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Be very glad I’m not the one holding the revolver right now.”

Tobias swallowed. “We—”

“Does it really matter? Whatever happened, you should have known better. So get on with it.”

Tobias clenched his fists, hating the man but needing him all the same. “What happened after matters. Keating was the one who walked in on us. There were heated words.”

“Did he blame you?” Holmes pointed with the end of his pipe. “Or just her?”

“I heard from Keating, as you might expect. I wronged his daughter, and so on. Nothing I didn’t deserve. But he had Evelina behind closed doors for a time as well. I don’t know what he said, but she came out white as a ghost and then started to pack at once.”

“You saw this?”

“Imogen, my sister, did.”

Holmes mused a moment. “Interesting.”

“You must find her!”

“How very astute of you, Mr. Roth.”

Tobias blinked uneasily. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Of course you didn’t,” Holmes sneered. “You’re here to vindicate your conscience. I am entirely happy to oblige. Go home. You’re forgiven for dishonoring my niece and chasing her into ruin and possible death.”

Tobias scrambled for a comeback, but came up with nothing.

“You don’t think I’ve already been looking for my own relation?” Holmes’s voice sizzled with sarcasm. “She sent me a letter, you know. I just received it now, though it was written weeks ago, by the date.
Weeks
that I might have been looking for her, if someone at Maggor’s Close had seen fit to warn me she had been sent away.”

The jab was clearly directed at Tobias, but he let it fly past. “Where did she send it from?” Tobias demanded. “That’s a clue, isn’t it?”

Holmes gave a slow nod. “She sent it from a post office near the Exchange. It is run by a husband and wife, an elderly couple who luckily remembered this particular letter when I went to them for details.”

Holmes paused, and Tobias shifted impatiently. “Yes?”

“The husband recalled something about a young woman asking him to mail the letter on a certain date—hardly an unusual practice in a district that specializes in business payments and the like. The only reason it stuck in his mind was that he was sure it had been lost.”

“But you received it.”

“Indeed I did. The letter was not lost at all, but gathered up with some others and sent on a day early by his wife.”

“But why did Evelina ask them to hold it?”

“And why did she come back later, and ask to have the letter held another few days? Not realizing his wife had already sent the note, the proprietor told Evelina the first one was lost, and she left a replacement, which I also have now.”

“What do they say?”

Tobias could see the tension in the corners of the detective’s mouth, a slight pinching almost like pain. “She did her best to include hints in the message, though some are not as clear to me as she intended. No doubt she assumed someone would intercept it.”