City of Darkness (City of Mystery) (10 page)

“I assure you, there’s no difference
in pelvic size among the classes, nor in cranial size.”

“Perhaps you should go back to
anatomy class, young man.  How else do you describe the ease with which they
drop their young?”

A slow flush was beginning along
John’s cheeks but he took another sip from his glass and when he spoke his
voice was low and controlled.

“They don’t all drop them so easily,
Sir.  Both the maternal and the infant mortality rate in the East End is three
times that of Mayfair, which is why they need a clinic.”

“The young doctor is very forward
thinking” said Tess. “You could learn a lesson, Fleanders.  This isn’t the Dark
Ages.”

“When it comes to breeding,”
Fleanders said decisively, “they’re animals.”

“When it comes to breeding,” John
said, just as decisively, “we all are.”

Just at this moment Madame Renata let
go of her crystal ball and it rolled down the valley of her legs and onto the
floor with a thump as she settled back with a soft snore.

“See there?” Gerry said. “You’ve
bored my guests with all this dreary talk of pelvises.  And where is Leanna? 
This is her party and - - why, here she is.  Come along, darling, everyone is
wild for the chance to meet you.”

Leanna blushed and stood up quickly
as six pairs of eyes rose to the landing.  “I’m sorry, I know it looks as if I
were eavesdropping…”

“Glad someone found the conversation
so enthralling,” snorted Fleanders.  “Come down and let me have a look of you. 
Why, you’re the image of your grandfather.  See here, John, Leanna’s
grandfather was a physician too.”

Leanna supposed that in the nebulous
world of Gerry’s parties this qualified as an introduction, and she stole a
cautious glance at John.  Would he remember her as the pauper on the train? 
But evidently he did not, because he was advancing toward the stairwell smiling
and holding out a hand.  “Miss Bainbridge, I’m delighted.”

Leanna descended one step and
suddenly her palm was inside his.  She took a deep breath and tried to steady
herself as he leaned forward in a confidential manner.  “I must apologize, I
had no idea a young lady was in a position of overhearing.”

“Oh no,” she said quickly.  Too
quickly.  “Just as the gentleman said, my grandfather was a physician so I
believe I can withstand a discussion of anatomy.  My very first memory is when
I was three and he let me hold a monkey’s head. Or skull, I should say.  I held
a monkey’s skull.” Why was she running on like this?  She must sound like a
lunatic.  Fortunately, in this particular room it was unlikely anyone would
notice.

“Good heavens John, don’t monopolize
the child,” Tess ordered.  “Bring her down here into the light so we can all
meet her.”  John offered his arm and Leanna moved into the circle of scrutiny.

“Fleanders, you’re mad,” Tess
snorted.  “This girl is a beauty and Leonard Bainbridge had a jaw like a bull
terrier.  Tell me, Leanna, what do you think of our position in India?  Did you
read the editorial in today’s Star?”

An hour later Leanna found herself
seated on the divan with the still-snoring Madame Renata.  After her initial
nervousness had passed she had begun to enjoy the party enormously and had
found herself becoming quite animated, even venturing into discussion of Darwin
with Fleanders, who had proven to be not a retired admiral but a retired
major-general.  Still, the flow of conversation had been exhausting and she was
happy to take a moment’s refuge with a second glass of champagne and the
slumbering mystic.  The divan also offered her a perfect place to observe John
Harrowman.

He had not appeared to recognize her
at all, which was a tremendous relief… and a slight disappointment.  At what
point had all her feelings become so muddled?  Leanna could remember a time
when she felt clearly and strongly about every subject, when she was not dogged
by second thoughts and strange random intuitions, but ever since that evening
she had fainted in Grandfather’s study she had awakened to a different, blurry
world.

“I say, Geraldine, do you intend to
starve us?” Fleanders suddenly bellowed.  “It’s well past eight and there’s no
sign of a meal.”

“One of the guests has sent a message
he’s been detained, so I suggest you have another clam,” Gerry said.  “I won’t
announce dinner until Trevor Welles is here.”

“Trevor’s coming?  Marvelous,”
squealed Tess. “Do you think he’ll know something new about the Whitechapel
murders?  I’m sure they don’t put all the facts in the paper.  Geraldine,
you’re a sly fox to nab such a celebrity.  I do hope you’ve seated him beside
me.”

“Balderdash, the young man wouldn’t
want to hear your prattle.  Geraldine has the judgment to seat him beside me.”

Leanna frowned.  Trevor Welles must
be quite the paragon to have won the approval of both Fleanders and Tess.  She
could see Emma gesturing frantically from the doorway and, since Aunt Gerry was
too engrossed to remember her hostess duties. Leanna got to her feet and
slipped into the hall.

“What’s wrong?”

“If Geraldine doesn’t decide to serve
soon I won’t be responsible for this lamb.  I’ve basted it and basted it but
it’ll dry out if we wait much longer.  Gage is completely in a state.”

“She says Trevor Welles has been
detained.”

“Well, she’ll hold dinner even if he
doesn’t appear until midnight, that’s for sure.  She adores him and with all
this publicity about the Ripper -“

“Emma, are all her parties like
this?”

“Not quite. They’re keeping this one
sedate, in your honor.”

Leanna sunk back against the wall
suddenly feeling overcome with the heaviness of the dress and the unaccustomed
champagne.  “I suppose you know who is to be seated on my other side as well?”

“Aren’t you the very lucky one? It’s
Doctor John.”

Leanna bit her lip again.  John made
her so nervous she was afraid she would either babble or go mute.  She could only
hope Trevor Welles proved as fascinating a conversationalist as everyone
believed he would be and would keep the talk flowing without much help from
her.  “Your aunt wanted you between the two eligible men,” Emma said. “Those
were the only seating instructions she gave, except for the fact that of course
she’d be beside Fleanders.”

“Why do you say ‘of course’?”

“He’s Geraldine’s on-and-off sort of beau.”

Leanna stared at Emma. “Balderdash.”

Emma laughed. “So are you pleased to
have the doctor at your side?”

“Better than dining with Madame
Renata, I suppose.   Wait.  Is that the door knocker?”

“It had better be the elusive Mr.
Welles.  For heaven’s sake, eat a few of those clams.  You’re pale as a ghost.”

Emma dashed off, smoothing her apron.
 Leanna gazed after her, wondering if they would ever become true friends, if
indeed it were possible for an heiress to become friends with a maid.  She had
always regretted her lack of sisters and although she loved her mother, she had
never quite broken through Gwynette’s reserve.  Leanna glanced at her
reflection in the mirror and was not displeased.  The wine-colored dress, the
dress which would never have been allowed in Rosemoral but which seemed almost
stuffy for Mayfair, made her look like a woman of the world.  She gave the
bodice one last nervous yank.  The excited murmur in the parlor had confirmed
the arrival of Trevor Welles.

Welles was a compact, energetic man
and as he shucked his overcoat and handed it to Emma, Leanna noticed the pull
of the muscles barely concealed beneath his tweed jacket.  He and John were a
picture in contrasts, with Trevor being blond, ruddy, and giving the sense of a
barely contained power - a marked juxtaposition to John’s languid dark eyes and
long, elegant form.

“Welles,” said Fleanders, “Bloody
decent of you to make time for us in the middle of all that’s happening. 
Geraldine says she was certain you’d become an inspector from the very first
time she laid eyes on you.”

“Really, Fleanders, he was just a
young copper then. When was that, Trevor, a year ago?”

“Two,” Trevor said, his voice deep
and a little gravelly. “And I’m afraid I’m a detective, not an inspector.”

“And yet they’ve put you on the
Whitechapel case,” Fleanders persisted.  “That must be quite exciting for all
you boys at the Yard.  I can’t remember a time when everyone in London was so
obsessed with the same thing, not even when there was that scandal with the
Duke of Clarence and his horsewhip -“

“Emma’s going mad,” Gerry cut in.  “I
hope you won’t think us abrupt, Trevor, but we’ve held dinner as long as we
can…”

“No, no, I never dreamed you’d hold
it at all.  Please, let’s sit down before we keel over from hunger.”  He
stepped out of the circle of admirers and paused, his eyes lighting on Leanna. 
“I take it this is our guest of honor?”

“My grandniece,” Gerry said promptly,
“Leanna Bainbridge.  Darling, I have no doubt you know who this is.”

“I read the article this morning that
quoted you,” Leanna said. “And I’ve been following everything Scotland Yard is
doing, even on the train coming in from Leeds.”  Would this jog John’s memory?  But
apparently not, for he was still twirling his champagne in a meditative fashion. 
“That article,” Leanna told Trevor, “was my first impression of London.”

“And you came on anyway?  Brave girl.”

She laughed, finding him easy to talk
to, as easy as Tom, and she let him escort her into the dining room and pull
out her chair.  Emma, grim faced, was already circulating with the bowls of
soup and everyone scurried to their seats like school children.

“Gad, Geraldine, this soup is pink,”
muttered Fleanders.

“It’s borscht, dear.  Beet soup and
they eat it daily in Russia.  Full of iron and good for the blood.”

Fleanders dubiously lifted his spoon,
not waiting for the ladies.  “So tell us everything, Inspector Welles.  Give us
the sort of gory details they don’t put in the papers.”

“Yes, do,” Tess murmured.

“Please, I’m a detective and not an inspector
yet,” Trevor protested.  “And I’m not in charge of the Whitechapel case, as
dearly as I’d love the opportunity.”

“You will be before this is over,”
Gerry said confidently, “and I’ll brag to all my friends I was important enough
to be hauled in by the Chief Inspector of Scotland Yard.”

“Geraldine,” Trevor laughed, tasting
the borscht with enthusiasm. “If everyone had as much confidence in me as you
do, I would be a happy man.  You should summon your carriage and take all your
friends to the Yard at a gallop to demand I be named head of the case.”

“But you should be, darling, and then
I’ll be able to mention the romantic story of how we met.  I can say you
arrested me when you were still in your salad days.”

“Salad?” trilled Madame Renata. “Did
you say we were having salad?  Tell the girl to bring it on, I can’t bear much
more of this horrid soup.”

“What’s the feeling at the Yard?”
John asked, leaning around Leanna and eyeing Trevor in a sympathetic manner.
“Do you suspect you’re being stuck with an impossible case?”

“Oh, we never say a case is
impossible, any more than a doctor would use those words.  But it’s a difficult
one.  It was mucked up terribly at first.”

“With the first killing they couldn’t
have known what they were dealing with,” John said.  “I’ve done a bit of work
on the East End myself, and I know that the women who live there do not
necessarily enjoy long lives.”

Trevor raised his bushy brows. “You work
there?”

“I’m an obstetrician.”

“Indeed?  You must be the Dr.
Harrowman I’ve heard so much about.  Some of the women we’ve interviewed in
connection with the case have mentioned your name.  Saint John, I believe they
call you and I must say your plan of a clinic is commend-“

“Blast that clinic,” Fleanders
snorted, drops of borscht in his white beard. “Tell us what you know.”

“Not much,” Trevor said bluntly. 
“The doctor is right, with the first case they had no idea they were dealing
with a series killer – “

“Series?” Geraldine asked, frowning.

“Multiple killings at the hand of one
person, with the victims chosen apparently at random. It’s a new term at the
Yard, but one I fear we shall have occasion to use again in the future. There’s
no reason you should have heard it.”  Trevor turned back to John.  “The body
was moved and washed before we could even inspect it.  The whole area was hosed
down, wiped clean by the local coppers…”

“Well of course they wouldn’t leave
the mess for their superiors,” Madame Renata said.

“Actually Madame, they left us a
bigger mess.  Any evidence that may have been in the area was washed away. 
There’s no respect in the force for forensic detail, they just rush in topsy-turvy
and mop up the crime scene as if it were a ballroom after a party.  So there’s
no way of knowing what we might have missed.  For example, perhaps there were
footprints in the blood which would have given us some indication of the
killer’s shoe size.”