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A happy whistle echoed through the drawing-room, beamed up with a fireplace. Outside, an unusually heavy snowstorm roared gravely but failed to disrupt Ivy’s singing. The maid was applying final touches to a snow-white dress that was put on a hanger neatly. The dame of the house rested on the sofa, paying no attention to the scene in front of her.
It was way past bedtime, yet neither of them showed any signs of fatigue, albeit for entirely different reasons. Also, if Eliza tried forcing two or three hours of rest, the snowstorm ramming against her bedroom windows would not let her unwind. So she silently kept Ivy company.
Eliza could not recall the last time Ivy was in such a chirpy mood. It must have been ages ago, before Eliza’s father passed.
A sharp sting pierced through Eliza’s heart at the memory of her late father. Oh, how she would give everything to have him back. Eliza needed his brilliant judgement that moment more than ever.
Recently, a sense of disquietude haunted the young female detective more than the unannounced visits from the ghost of Henry Scarlet. The distress manifested itself through chest pain like the current one. Though said pains implicated a rather mental kind of suffering than physical. It was quite the paradox since Eliza was partially to blame for the state of things.
Miss Eliza Scarlet was to be married the very next morning, and the weight in her chest was just stress for sure. That, or an importunate message sent from her father from beyond the grave.
Whatever the cause, Eliza never mentioned her inner turmoil. If only Ivy could hear Eliza’s thoughts, she would chide her from head to toe, or worse - call for a doctor.
Rapid gesticulation in front of her eyes brought Eliza back to reality.
“I’m done for the night, Eliza. Would you like some tea before I go?”
Eliza’s lips cracked into a forced smile, the wheels in her head spinning. If it weren’t for soon-to-be bride doubts, she’d find Ivy’s wedding zeal admirable.
Before Eliza had the chance to open her mouth, a sharp knock on the entrance door stirred them both.
“Heavens! The front door in this house never closes,” Ivy grumbled, not hiding her disapprobation, and stormed out of the room.
A great commotion in the corridor followed, which caused Eliza to jump out of her seat by the window.
“God almighty, Mr Parker!” Ivy exclaimed, shielding herself from droplets and slush Rupert was spreading everywhere. He stripped himself from a sponge that was his scarf. “What are you doing here? It’s a bad omen to see the bride the night before the wedding!”
And with that remark, the last of Ivy’s euphoria vaporised.
“Rupert?” Eliza called and entered the hall. The small clock on the commode was showing nearly midnight.
The vast majority of their social calls took place at the strangest hours, but the timing of that particular visit was most bizarre.
“I must - I need to speak with you, Eliza,” her fiancé stuttered, looking over his shoulder. A silent suggestion to move the conversation to the parlour.
Her eyebrows rose in puzzlement, but Eliza guided him towards the room.
“Ivy, can you make Mr Parker some tea while I help him warm up by the fireplace?” she asked. Without waiting for any sort of reply, she closed the door to the drawing-room behind them, leaving a wide-eyed Ivy in the hall.
Rupert took off his coat and sunk weightily onto a sofa. He eyed the dress exposed in the very centre, orange blaze cast upon the silky, white material.
“That’s an astonishing dress, my dear,” he sighed and thumped the nearest cushion awkwardly. “Quite classy.”
“Yes, quite,” Eliza agreed and sat across from Rupert. “It was my mother’s. She always had the simplest tastes, and I’m glad to have inherited her views on limited laces.”
He nodded politely in agreement.
“Now. Tell me what has happened, Rupert, that could not have waited until tomorrow noon. Surely not the dress?” she urged.
Rupert moved in his seat. Leaning towards Eliza, he whispered in the most conspiratorial tone, “I just saw Inspector Wellington.”
Heart skipping a beat, Eliza showed no interest in this revelation. She shook an imaginary lint off her sleeve and replied indifferently, “Oh? So what of it? My open cases are on hold this week, as you know, as well my clients do.”
“Eliza.” Rupert locked his gaze on hers, recognising her tactic of looking away when a subject was too difficult for her to get into.
“What?!”
She sprung out of the armchair and walked past the dress to look out the window. Damned Rupert and damned William.
Behind her, Eliza heard quiet steps, meaning Rupert joined her at the window.
“We don’t have to marry tomorrow.”
Eliza could only hope Ivy wasn’t eavesdropping at the door - otherwise, Rupert himself would be obliged to revive her housekeeper.
“Rupert, may I remind you, this was your idea!” Eliza whisper-yelled, and looked over his shoulder to avoid eye contact, but also make sure Ivy didn’t storm in with the tea at the very moment.
Her friend’s delicate hands wrapped around her own. Eliza hasn’t realised she’s been clutching them tightly.
“Yes, and I am sincerely grateful you agreed upon it, but... circumstances have shifted.”
Eliza shook her head slightly and blinked a few times, trying to focus on Rupert.
“Circumstances have... shifted?”
Maybe it was the late hour, but his words haven’t shocked her as much as she would presume.
Rupert stepped away and started treading in small circles around the dress. He hesitated in his exploration, looking for the right words that would not irritate her.
“When I first proposed to you this... this marriage of convenience, it created an impression of a reasonable consensus for us both. Please, believe me when I say I had your best interest at heart.”
“Of course, Rupert, I never had one ill thought of you,” Eliza reassured, clueless about where this conversation was going or why it needed to be held that night. Or at least she wanted to remain clueless. “What does detective Wellington have to do with it?”
It was almost ridiculous of her to ask such an oblivious question, especially since she very well knew the answer to it. However, Eliza would not spoil the strength she’s given to the last two months of ignoring her inconvenient, preposterous feelings, just to go through this pointless torture again. So she ignored any mentions of William.
Rupert took a hefty breath.
“I cannot let you make the mistake of marrying the wrong person. I admire you too much to let you do this to yourself,” he declared firmly, then his voice softened. “Eliza, out of the two of us, you have the possibility of marrying the person you love. Please, do not waste it.”
While Rupert’s bluntness was astonishing, it was refreshing as well. Eliza’s shoulders slumped in the last effort of defence.
“We’re no good together, Rupert.”
“How so?”
Eliza threw her hands in the air.
“I can’t cook.”
A genuine laugh vibrated in Rupert’s chest before he objected, “This is your biggest objection? I know you’ve had Ivy teach you this last couple of months. You also forget the kidney pie you tested on me last Sunday, that I highly praised.”
To be honest, she did want to learn cookery to please William, but if someone put a gun to her head, she would not admit it. The story she officially upheld was her learnings were for the sole purpose of letting Ivy visit her distant family in Scotland without the need to worry about Miss Scarlet starving herself to death.
“He’s a drunk and womaniser, and I could never accept infidelity in marriage,” she blurted out in response.
Rupert curled his moustache between his fingers. “Eliza, you very well realise I would not be faithful to you.”
“That’s different!”
“I simply know he would never do a thing to hurt you. In fact, doctor Moorhouse thinks he’s overcompensating-”
“B-but,” Eliza stuttered, searching for more arguments, “He’s so stubborn and irritating and-”
“Excuses, excuses, excuses,” her father’s voice echoed in her head. Henry Scarlet would definitely call her out for not being true to herself.
“You should talk to him,” Rupert acknowledged matter-of-factly.
Eliza narrowed her eyes. It was quite unusual for Rupert to stand his ground so firmly and not in the name of his own cause, too. She clasped her hands behind her back and approached her friend in a dragged stroll.
“May I ask why are you so interested in me and William all of the sudden? What’s in it for you?”
He rose his hands in surrender. “Nothing, I swear.”
“Then why would you assume I have anything to talk about with him? Did he strong-arm you to come here tonight?”
Rupert seemed appalled by her suggestion. “Eliza! Your implications are scandalous, even for a lady detective. Inspector Wellington was always respectful to me.”
“How did you meet him today?”
By tugging at her palms, Rupert urged her to sit down with him on the sofa.
“Well, you’re aware of my recurrent and insufferable case of epistaxis. Doctor Moorhouse was a dear and prescribed this new apothecary - Glisson’s - just at the crossroad of Orchard road and Cross street. You see, the owner just recently came back from India, where he studied their native herbs for 10 years! He came back with a Hindu wife, most fascinating story-”
“Yes, it sounds like a fascinating story. For another time,” Eliza pressured in a warning tone.
“Right, my apologies,” Rupert gulped and wiped the remaining droplets on his moustache with a hanky that had the most hideous shade of yellow.
“I met Inspector Wellington while leaving the premises. He was entering the doctor’s office. At first, he was reluctant to say what brought him there. I managed to gather his super has sent him to compulsory time off and he is struggling with insomnia on top of that! No wonder he visited Glisson’s. Poor Inspector Wellington, he looked terribly pale.”
Rupert looked up, trying to read Eliza’s face. “More colour drained from his face when I mentioned your name and our wedding plans,” he murmured gently, and then added, “Oh, Eliza, I could tell he misses you dearly. Why would you persist in marrying me? You two are clearly soulmates!”
Silence followed as Eliza stalled her answer. She remembered her last meeting with William. His angry face, their raised voices, her futile attempts to stop tears running down her face while driving the cab home.
“Eliza? What happened those two months ago when you said you changed your mind on the proposal? I remember you were content with Inspector’s apparent courtship.”
Yes. Yes, she was. Until irreconcilable differences happened.
Eliza groaned and hid her face in her hands.
“Were you planning on taking revenge on the Inspector by agreeing to marry me?”
She was truly exasperated he'd think that. “What? No. Absolutely not, Rupert. The proprietor of the building in my office has growing concerns over - as he put it - an old maid’s debts. I’ve been paying my rent regularly, and I informed him last year that you became my investor. That pacified him temporarily. When I notified him of our wedding, he was again placid. I simply thought we both could benefit, like when you proposed to me back then.”
Rupert’s brows knitted in a frown. “Before this… did you feel like Inspector Wellington was playing with your feelings, never aiming for a proposal?”
It seemed Eliza failed to sidetrack the conversation.
“No, I think he did,” she groaned and sharply flopped on the couch. Eyes closed, she continued to talk, “Frankly, Rupert, there’s one thing you never asked me to give up, William cannot get past by, and I imagine any other gentleman who’d entertain an idea of marrying me.”
“What is it?”
“The detective agency, of course.”
A huge thorn in the side, the elephant in the room.
“But I don't understand. He got you publicity in the gazette!”
Eliza laughed bitterly and rubbed her eyes. “Let me quote his own words, once married, he would not allow it.”
Just thinking about William admitting it caused Eliza’s temples to pulsate. She was well aware of her undeniable feelings towards this headstrong prick, which made the whole situation, if not ironic, then definitely hopeless. That man had the capacity of driving her to insanity from afar.
“Yes, that is unfortunate,” Rupert agreed, continuing to caress her right hand. “Might we misinterpret Inspector’s reasoning?”
“Misinterpret? What’s here to misinterpret, Rupert! He thinks he knows better what a lady should or should not do. First my landlord, now him. I’m starting to wonder whether the suffragettes would take me back in.”
Eliza met her friend’s concerned gaze. Soon after, Rupert stood up and corrected the lapels of his jacket. She did not follow him to the door.
“Very well, my dear. Still, please think on it.”
“Why?” she fumed.
Rupert wrapped his hand firmly around the door handle.
“I know what is it like not to follow your heart, Eliza. How every cell in your body screams against the choices that are proper, but not fit for your desires.”
It surely wasn’t his intention, but he did not make the situation any easier for her. Instead of rubbing her temple, Eliza started massaging her chest. What an utterly disorienting mess.
“You cannot just cancel the wedding overnight! Your mother won’t just toss me out of this house, she’ll hire a paid gunman!”
Rupert allowed himself a hearty chortle.
“Do not trouble yourself, Eliza. Fortunately, you never wanted an expensive reception. It was my mother that decided on a winter wedding. I’m grateful you bought me some more time and something for the gossipers to tattle about. I will tell my mother I was unfaithful to you with Fraulein Hildegard. She hasn’t ceased writing me lengthy letters.”
Although he desperately tried to comfort her, Eliza couldn’t help the remorse.
“If you choose not to appear at the chapel, I’ll understand,” Rupert assured. “Please, in no way feel pressured into talking to Inspector Wellington, though. We’ll solve your situation with your landlord.”
“You’re too kind, Rupert.”
They shared a warm smile before he left. Soon after, a disappointed Ivy entered the parlour, a cup of steaming tea in each hand.
-
At long last, Eliza reached her bedroom. Her attempts at rest went exactly as she predicted. Twisting and turning, she only accomplished, accidentally kicking off her extra quilt to the ground.
She glanced at the clock when she bent over to pick up the material. It was nearly four in the morning. At least the wind howls quieted down outside.
Eliza corrected her pillow petulantly, tired of pretending there were any chances left for falling asleep. Grunting loudly into the material, she made a mental note to thank Ivy for putting the bed warmer between her sheets. It still radiated heat this late at night, so Eliza may have been exhausted, but at least warm. If she’d got a case of bad shivers, she’d lose her mind completely.
The state of her mentality was hanging by a thread thanks to Rupert. Or rather one Inspector William Wellington in addition. She should put the blame where it belonged.
William’s hypocritical comment drove her to the edges of sanity. She may not have finished a police academy, but she learned from the best. Her father and his protégé.
It wasn’t like their teachings were completely unintended or occasional, far from it. For as long as she could remember, Eliza was allowed to read Henry’s files or help William study for his exam. Her father’s only condition was school studies were not to be neglected - which wasn’t hard to do so. Apart from the unfortunate Latin lessons with Miss Clarke, whose monotonous voice could knock out the most hardened listeners, Eliza was a model student.
One could say the amount of education received from the tutors should be enough to call the young Eliza accomplished. Almost ideal wife material, if not for one detail.
Miss Scarlet was hungry for more, and wouldn’t settle for just any suitor. She was always vocal about her life choices and even more so determined to put her skills and abilities to good use.
And yet, year after year, Henry, William, and even Ivy were somehow still astonished by her behaviour. When she begged her father to let her attend his lecture at the university as an auditor. When she “borrowed” William’s histopathology handbooks. When she imperceptibly sneaked out of Sunday school for Viscountess Bellasis’ afternoon tea for ladies interested in entrepreneurship. When she craved for the knowledge of the unknown, for answers to unsolved mysteries.
Out of this unholy trinity, William vexed her the most.
Eliza never wanted to lead him on, unless not intentionally, about who she was.
William was always a hard-working, brave and usually kind boy. His appearance was pleasing to the eye. Eliza never denied that, but what mattered was that he conversed with her like his peer, never undermining her mental capabilities. Sometimes young Eliza entertained a thought he could be the one to capture her heart, but their relationship shifted when William finished the officer’s school.
He became more distant and started pushing Eliza’s friendship away.
Eliza was well aware pursuing a career in law enforcement wasn’t a piece of cake. She has seen how her father’s work consumed his personal life. She understood his focus was on his future, but Eliza wasn’t about to resign from hers just for the sole sake of making his life simpler. Though her heart quietly ached, the lady detective accepted the Inspector as her friend and nothing more.
Much to her surprise, lately, William seemed to warm up to the idea of Eliza taking over and continuing the Scarlet agency. Eliza lowered her guard when he invited her each week to a different diner, each time the conversation deviating to police work and William not minding it did. It was again like they were teens. They still teased one another, but with time Eliza noticed she unconsciously coquetted William.
So when he straightforward admitted that if they would ever be to marry, he would not allow his wife to remain in such a profession, Eliza felt so bloody disheartened.
He said it chaotically, struggling to choose his words, but it was there.
Why on earth did he put on a show, while she explicitly and repeatedly emphasised she had no interest in giving up her job? He surely would have no trouble finding himself a humble lady, that did not challenge him, would give up career for hubby and could cook a fine egg.
Why did it matter anyway? It’s been two months since they last spoke. William probably already forgot about her anyway, comforted by some actress or opera singer.
Unfortunately, Eliza still missed that bastard.
She would give anything to talk to her father. Eliza had never imagined she would miss this tactic where, instead of giving advice, Henry kept asking the right questions until the root of the problem was found. Eliza just wasn’t entirely sure whose answers those were.
"Where are you when I need your stupid guidance!" she screamed internally.
The sounds of the clock downstairs announced five o’clock in the morning. In the middle of February, it meant at least two more hours until sunrise.
Eliza kicked the quilt to the side. The day promised to be one of the snowiest and coldest days Londoners experienced the last couple of years. She’d love to stay in the temping warmth of the bed, forcing herself to any further sleep would backfire. What Eliza was greatly in need of was organising the endless train of thoughts. Not because she hadn’t decided what to do about Rupert, but because she was back to square one.
An abstract idea popped into her head. She could try to talk to her father. All she had to do was get to the place where she kept having visions of him.
Scarlet agency.
There was no denying it sounded lunatic. Miss Scarlet was the last person to believe in any form of supernatural forces, but it could be the aid she needed at that moment. Although all of it would be happening inside her head, probably.
Eliza lit a candle and tip-toeing quietly reached the bathroom to freshen up after the night. She decided to leave her hair down - pinning it up and styling it would take too much time. Every extra second she spent at home, she was risking Ivy hearing her and waking up. The bride-to-be preferred to break the news to her maid later than sooner.
Ivy was a caring, worried soul and Eliza loved her dearly, but couldn’t handle a lecture from her maid at that time.
Inspecting her wardrobes for some warm clothes, she managed to complete an agreeable set comprising a plaid skirt, a pair of thick black tights, and a white, long-sleeved blouse. It was quite a bit before Eliza fully prepared herself. Everything took up twice as much time when she was trying to do it noiselessly.
Half an hour later, she reached the main entrance. No sign that the other woman staying at the house has woken up.
Before leaving, she grabbed her grey winter coat with one hand, and with the other, she pulled a brief note out of her pocket in which Eliza informed Ivy of her whereabouts. Then she tucked the note behind the mirror, making sure Ivy would notice the paper.
Eliza may have been avoiding a conversation with Ivy, but she wasn’t cruel.
Grabbing a cab at this early in the morning was a challenge, but she eventually succeeded. On her way to the office, she admired streets and parks coated in snow. The view and the crisp air lifted her morale. Indeed, this rare scenery would perfectly fit a winter wedding. Maybe some other, truly in love couple could enjoy it to be married on that day.
At last, the cab stopped. The street was utterly quiet, the only passers-by a lonesome police patrol. The frozen windows in the building, where the detective agency was located, faintly mirrored the blue-grey tint of the sky.
This peaceful scenery suggested none of the detective’s neighbours arrived at their place of business yet. The air was quite brisk, exactly as forecasted for the coldest day of the year in London. So when Eliza entered the narrow and slightly dingy corridor, she expected to hear only stairs creaking under her own feet.
Instead, she was greeted by pleasant warmth at the top of the stairs. The sound of fire cracking in her fireplace was muffled, but perceptible. Did she not put it out yesterday? Surely, it would burn out by then.
Eliza stopped at the threshold and observed the spectacle of light and shadows through the prism of the agency’s glass door.
Did she summon her father with her thoughts? Was it that easy? Or was she losing her sanity in express mode?
No. What a ridiculous idea. It must’ve been a burglar. The visions of Henry couldn’t ignite the fireplace.
Being a lady detective, Eliza quietly crouched to check the lock for any signs of damage. Instead, she found a key stuck on the other side of the keyhole. Well, a burglar would either force it or pick it.
Eliza tightened her hand around the gun she carried in the left pocket of the coat, heart fluttering inside her chest like a hummingbird’s wings. She wasn’t entirely sure whether it was better to face a supernatural occurrence right now over a burglar.
Without thinking it through, she straightened up, pulled out her weapon and, in one swift move, barged into the tiny office.
“Stand back!” Eliza shouted and pointed the gun at the silhouette sitting in the armchair. Right away, she was facing a barrel of another gun, pointing directly between her eyes.
“Eliza, what the hell?!”
She blinked twice, the image of a blurred figure sharpening into one Scotland Yard Inspector.
“Me what the hell? Have you lost your mind?”
William Wellington lowered the gun. His hair was a mess, dark circles under his eyes, both coat and vest on the hanger leaving him in his half-unbuttoned shirt in the upper part. Thankfully, he did not seem drunk out of his mind, which would at least explain something.
Eliza closed the door, mentally slapping herself for not recognising William’s spare key and making a note to take it back. Though it most likely would not stop him from getting in.
She thought she made it clear he was unwelcome at the agency.
“Considering this is my office, I must ask first what on earth are you doing here, at this hour too?” she demanded and placed her pocket pistol on the desk, next to her handbag. Then she took off the cowl Ivy knitted for teen Eliza.
William threw a blanket to the side and stood up.
“I was hoping I could talk to...” he trailed off and ran his fingers through his hair.
Eliza moved to the other side of the desk, rested her back against its top and crossed arms.
“Who? Me?” she inquired as he approached her. “The note at the door clearly states I won’t be available this week,” she continued and pointed to the paper visible through the glass in the door.
He raised his chin and looked her in the eye. “Well, not exactly.”
Terror overtook Eliza’s face. “Are you telling me you’re using my office for meeting-”
“What? No!” William loudly objected. He took a step toward Eliza, which made her wince. In contrast to the fireplace, the contours of his face were hard to focus on. “I haven’t been seeing anyone for a long time.”
“I see,” Eliza said slowly and gestured up and down with her right hand at him. “Is this why or because you look like this?”
“I- I have trouble sleeping recently.”
“Yes, Rupert told me.”
Upon this comment, William’s face reddened.
“Scotland Yard is dramatically short-handed. I’ve been under a lot of pressure recently and I might have got carried away.”
“How so?”
“I punched Honeychurch. He lost a piece of key evidence. Again. My new super knows how bloody important that diary was, but he had no choice but to send me into furlough.”
Eliza’s lips twitched in a smile, but she quickly covered it up. Honeychurch could try the patience of a saint. A trait he shared with his Inspector.
“Your office is the only place I can shut my eyes for longer than ten minutes. I’m sorry, I should have asked if it’s okay. There’s just something calming about this office’s aura. I can almost feel Henry’s presence...” William paused, grunting, and looked to the window as if he said too much.
“Listen, Lizzie-” he continued, but Eliza cut him off. That man knew well how to push her buttons.
“Did you get your invitation to the wedding? I received no reply.”
Caught off guard, William crossed his hands behind his back, wanting to hide his tightening fists. It didn’t escape Eliza’s attention, though.
“Yes, I did.”
Eliza rose an eyebrow and exasperated in an over-the-top sweet voice, “Sorry, I forgot, you did just say how busy you are. No time for silly, mundane nuptials.”
“Eliza, that’s not fair,” he protested.
She unconsciously leaned back and his face changed.
“Wait, the wedding is today. What are you doing here then? Shouldn't you be getting ready?”
It was his turn to ask questions, questions Eliza wasn’t ready to answer yet. Inside her head, she was already battling her other demons - Mrs Parker’s anger and Ivy’s disappointment.
Eliza cleared her throat and stood up. Smoothing out her skirts, she lied flatly, “We’re leaving town for a couple of days, Rupert and I. I wanted to leave my cases in order.”
The seriousness in his eyes broke into jest for a fraction of a second.
“The whole two of them?”
She did not favour William with an answer, though if looks could kill, his insomnia issues would turn into eternal slumber swiftly. Another day, another time, Eliza might have had the strength to battle his typical malice. That morning just wasn’t it.
She stood up and pointed to the door, head-heavy. “I bid you a good day. Please leave.”
William clenched his jaw, clearly surprised their usual argument took a new turn. All those years they’ve known each other, it wasn’t new for Eliza to be cross with him. Never, however, she felt this much livid.
“Eliza, I’m…”
“I will see you at the church,” she said sharply. “Or not, whatever pleases the Duke.”
Her stare was drilling into the Inspector’s eyes, a silent command accompaniment to her verbal command, and she almost burst out when not only he didn’t leave but made another step forward. Eliza stumbled onto the desktop. A loose curl escaped his hairline onto the forehead, and she halted the urge to comb it back into its place with her fingers.
“Why are you marrying Parker?” he asked in a low growl.
Eliza tried to put on her indifferent face when she replied and pretended a mad infatuation.
“I love him.”
William snorted, “Are you sure?”
“Yes! Why does it matter to you?” she raged, knowing perfectly well that if a detective like himself didn’t figure out Rupert’s involvement in solving Sebastian Ridley’s case so far, he was surely suspecting some. And Eliza had no plans in breaking her promise ever, so she continued her charade.
“Isn’t it nature taking its course?” Eliza added.
“I don’t know, feels more like you punishing me,” he bickered.
She said sourly, “Contrary to your belief, the world does not revolve around you, William.”
He leaned over her and tilted his head. “Then what is it?”
Suddenly the room shrank around them, and the young lady detective felt her palms sweat when she was shivering with cold not minutes ago.
Eliza looked to the window on the right, turning her head away from him. This kind of tension wasn’t new, but she needed it gone at once. There was no reason for complicating things further, and she was aware of the effect he had on her.
It hit Eliza Scarlet she was foolishly in love with William Wellington, and how pointless the feeling was. Their bodies close, yet an ocean of contrariety between them.
“See, you always do that! You again turn away. Does it have to do with you avoiding me the last couple of months?” frustrated William asked and folded his arms, as if she was one of his suspects, drilling gaze into her temple. Oh, he was good.
“Is this a police questioning, officer? Have you been losing sleep over me not hanging about your office door?”
Yes, he was good, but so was she. A true detective, no less.
Anger lit his eyes and reddened his cheeks anew, but his answer was frank, “Indeed. We haven’t finished our last conversation.”
The question was designed to be rude. A sure and plain way to sidetrack their conversation from going where Eliza didn’t want it to go. She expected further mockery, some unpleasant comments about how he only worries for her for the sake of Henry’s memory as if she was a burden and not someone he’d thought of as his social and professional peer.
Instead, William cut to the chase and, much to her dismay, he cornered Eliza. Mentally and physically.
“I-I,” she stuttered, her mind was spinning, still not looking him in the eye, but finding no comfort in noticing a vein pulsating under the white collar of his wrinkled shirt. “I asked you to leave,” Eliza snapped when she put her senses back in order.
“Very well.” William jutted his chin. “I left details on your desk for a witness in Johnson’s case. I hear the daughter has hired you.”
Abruptly, only one word escaped her mouth. “Why?”
Her perplexity was growing swiftly. He was no less confused about her reaction.
“I don’t understand. You’re never reluctant to get information out of me. Is this not what you want?”
“No! I mean, yes!” Eliza exclaimed, desperately looking away from his flushed cheeks and that damned lock of hair dangling against his forehead. She would never turn down any tip that paid her financial liabilities or put food on her table.
“It's just... You were never keen to share voluntarily. What changed?”
William’s face softened when he admitted, “You’ve proven yourself to having an insight I might lack,” and then added quickly with an extra eye roll, “Sometimes. When you're not too reckless for your own safety.”
If the confession was rehearsed, Eliza couldn’t tell.
"I can take care of myself."
"I know this now," William said and nodded towards the gun on the desk. "I have verified this many times."
She could swear she had heard a great weight fall off William’s shoulders. What came next stunned her even more.
“I’d like to ask for a consult once you are back from your wedding trip.”
Dumbfounded, Eliza reverted her stare back to his waiting gaze. That moment she acknowledged those few inches separating them. She knew he walked over to her, but she never registered William’s body moving this close to hers. So close his warm breath was caressing the goosebumps on the side of her neck, a faint scent of his cologne irritating her nostrils.
Her eyes shifted from his apologetic expression to the hand he stretched out as a peace offering.
A muffled male moan echoed through the office when Eliza swatted the hand away and pulled William by the neck.
Their lips crashed together, the impact of the collision causing a tiny cut in her bottom lip, but she didn’t care. A slight pang of pain, followed by an indistinct taste of blood, didn’t stop Eliza from wrapping her hands around William’s stiffened neck, thrusting her whole body deeper into his.
It took William too damn long to overcome the initial bewilderment as if he truly wasn’t aware of what his closeness was doing to Eliza. His hefty arms wrapped tightly around her, stabilising himself with putting palms on the small of her back.
When his lips moved against hers, they were hungry but not unfamiliar. Many years after their first kiss, Eliza often caught herself wondering whether his sloppy, unorganised teenage pecks turned into something else.
And boy, did they.
A new prickling sensation crawled up her abdomen and soon it felt like she was falling on a swing. She gave up any remnants of control when he broke away from her mouth and brushed away some of the loose, blonde hair to the side, only to find the pulse on her neck like a ravenous hound that’s been denied a treat for far too long.
Suddenly Eliza became very aware of her shortening, rapid breaths, her train of thought blown up in an abrupt explosion.
Meanwhile, William was more than happy to take over the control. Without a single beat missed, he picked up the pieces of her, one stroke of his lips against her pale skin after another.
When his right hand cupped her breast, Eliza let out a cry she wasn’t aware she was capable of. This caused William to straighten from his position, previously curled around her tiny body. Concern filled his features, painted with golden colours coming from the fire.
“Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” Eliza croaked hoarsely, her legs heavy, the tips of her fingers buried in his hair, tingling. She was more than fine, but worry flitted through her thoughts at his question. William was used to more experienced... companions.
Her palms drifted to his shoulders. “Did I do something wrong?”
William cursed under his nose so badly, Sister Ann would whip his ass he wouldn't be able to sit for a month. Though it’s been years since he left the orphanage, Eliza never forgot the stories William told about St. Mary's.
“Wrong? Fuck, do you know what are you doing to me?” he asked, drawing each word, making sure the tone of his voice dispelled any doubts.
“Do you know what you’re doing to me?” Eliza shot back pugnaciously and William burst out laughing sincerely.
“Are you going to challenge me even on this?”
“Certainly,” she breathed and tip-toed, her lips ready to meet his again, any sense of propriety she’s ever held in her relations with him well-forgotten. “It’s no fun when Rupert agrees with me on almost everything.”
Instantly, William’s body stiffened at the mention of Eliza’s fiancé.
He backed away and Eliza leaned slightly towards him, her body instinctively following his warmth.
“William, what is it?”
Her left hand travelled up to the top button in her shirt that loosened itself during the kiss. Inspector’s eyes widened, noticing the delicate piece of jewellery on her finger.
William broke the silence, “You’re getting married today.”
Suddenly, the ring grew heavy. The right thing to do would be to return it to Rupert. However, neither he nor Eliza paid attention to such detail during their last conversation. It wasn’t like Eliza was robbing Rupert out of the family heirloom - he bought it when Mrs Parker wouldn’t allow Rupert to gift Eliza with his grandmother’s one. Wanting to spare Rupert the financial trouble, Eliza suggested buying the one simplest in design. It was enough to keep up their ruse.
And from the looks of it, the ring was still sending the message.
What he said afterwards hit like a sack of bricks.
“I should go.”
“What?” Eliza fired.
“It was wrong of me to come here,” William said while buttoning his shirt, then he grabbed the graphite coloured coat. “If Mr Parker saw us, he could challenge me and I would not expect anything less.”
Eliza grabbed her hips. “Aren’t you dramatising a bit?”
“Aren’t you concerned with your reputation no more?”
“Pity... there might be not much to be concerned with until the sun shall set,” she muttered under her nose and rested against the desk, shoulders dropped. While Rupert was quite understanding, his mother was most definitely not. No matter how superb the story was, her son would try to sell her. Eliza admired his effort nonetheless.
The polished surface of the wood was drastically cool underneath her palms, just moments earlier passionately tangled up in Inspector’s radiating body. William was already by the armchair, knotting the last buttons of the overcoat. He looked up, his stare clouded.
“What do you mean?”
Neck stiffening, she looked him right in the eyes. “Last night we came to a conclusion we should not wed.”
“Why?” He narrowed his eyes and froze in place.
Eliza had no heart to use the explanation Rupert himself was going to use and therefore gave her permission to use it as well. It didn’t sit right with her when he’s been such a kind friend to her for years now.
“Rupert said I should stop denying my feelings for someone else.” Her voice lowered with each word, but William heard all. The room was awfully quiet, the cracking of the fireplace dulled by the sound of their breaths.
“Oh.”
For forever, William Wellington has always had a comeback to everything she said. His loss for words was pretty satisfying, and if not for the disarray in her thoughts, she could have gloated or laughed.
After about half a minute of sheer silence, William finally cleared his throat and said slowly, “Indeed, such feelings might complicate today’s ceremony. Do I know this someone?”
Eliza rolled her eyes and snorted. Right, his ignorance was too hilarious and a bit worrisome for the best detective at Scotland Yard, one she engaged in a kiss not long ago.
“I believe you do,” she replied and stood up. “You’ve known him all your life.”
Finally, realisation dawned on his face. He cautiously moved forward again.
“For how long... do you harbour affection for this someone?”
Eliza’s deadpan stare fell upon the fireplace. She stunned herself when she replied truthfully, “Apparently, longer than I was aware of.”
William stooped to draw her attention back to him.
“But whenever I entertained a thought, you might hold feelings for this someone you distanced yourself time after time, Eliza. I thought I imagined things, and this someone was never anything above a family friend and your late father’s apprentice.”
“Well, think no more, Will. It might be best so,” Eliza said, shaking her head with a grin.
William fell silent. He slowly grinned back at her and leaned over her tiny body, his breath caressing her chin.
His lips softly brushed hers. No further encouragement needed to be given. Eliza supported herself by grasping his coated forearms. The kiss sealed off years of misunderstandings.
“What about Rupert and the wedding?” William asked when they broke the kiss, his beard still scratching Eliza’s skin.
“It’s taken care of,” Eliza reassured, but then added, “However, I should get back to the house. Ivy is probably worried sick.”
He pulled back. “Why?”
“I left her a note about my whereabouts, but failed to mention there will be no ceremony today.”
William handed Eliza her scarf as he opened the door for her.
“You like to live dangerously, Miss Scarlet. Let’s go to your house then, so I can witness you get an earful.”
Eliza chuckled and smacked William on his arm as she passed him. “I’m pretty sure Ivy will have enough reproach for the both of us.”
The snowy aura persisted when they stepped outside. William waved at the unoccupied cab that emerged from around the corner of the street.
When inside the cab, Eliza snuggled up to William’s right side and took off her left glove to intertwine her hand with his.
She looked one last time to the agency window. She could swear Henry Scarlet was standing in it, smiling widely and raising a glass of scotch.