Murder on Cold Street (Lady Sherlock #5) - Sherry Thomas Page 0,112

inspired devotion. At work he could make men fall in line because he had Mr. Barnaby Cousins’s ear and he was mean-spirited to those below him. And for women, he could buy the likes of Mrs. Calloway and myself. But I don’t believe he’d ever been terribly successful with ladies.

“So it meant something to him, his wife’s sincere fixation, even if he didn’t like that she was the only one to find him interesting or important.”

Without looking at anyone, Mrs. Sullivan turned her face from one side to the other, as if there was something uncomfortable about the fit of her collar.

“What I’ve said now, Miss Holmes, is essentially what Mrs. Sullivan told me, not long after we met,” Mrs. Portwine went on. “But you know how it is that mothers can complain bitterly about their own progeny, yet bristle with anger the moment anyone else dares to criticize those same darlings? So it was with Mrs. Sullivan, where her husband was concerned. She was allowed to brand him as morally corrupt and sexually degenerate, but I could only listen and never voice similar opinions.”

What did Mrs. Sullivan truly feel for her husband? Or was it something too complex to be described by any single emotion? “It sounds as if you met with Mrs. Sullivan more than once,” said Charlotte.

Mrs. Portwine adjusted her lapels, another ironic smile on her face. “Mrs. Sullivan became a regular caller.”

“You charged me!” cried her regular caller.

“I charged your husband for my time; there was no reason to allot it to you gratis,” said Mrs. Portwine patiently. “Beyond the initial titillation, I wasn’t that interested in what passed between the two of you. But you wished for an audience and I was willing to listen for a price.”

This “friendship” between the two women did not particularly surprise Charlotte. After all, while Mr. Sullivan yet lived, to whom else could Mrs. Sullivan speak truthfully about her husband? “Did Mr. Sullivan know of your meetings?”

“Eventually,” answered Mrs. Portwine. “One day when Mrs. Sullivan left, my coachman, Whitmer, happened to see her. The indoor staff I hired, but Whitmer has always been Mr. Sullivan’s man. He informed Mr. Sullivan and Mr. Sullivan was displeased. Not about his wife’s visits—if I could tolerate them then he had no problem—but because I hadn’t told him.

“‘That woman pokes her nose into everything,’ he said. ‘I can’t keep anything important at home because she would get her hands on it. And now you tell me she’s been coming here?’

“It’s true that Mrs. Sullivan is curious. Highly curious. The first time she came she inspected this entire house, including belowstairs. And on each subsequent visit she wanted to see if additions or changes had been made since her previous call.

“I didn’t mind her curiosity so Mr. Sullivan’s reaction seemed disproportionate to me. But he thundered that Mrs. Sullivan always found a way to open locks, whether they were on doors or drawers. He’d thought this house beyond her reach. But now he was not to have any safe haven at all.”

Charlotte turned her little iced cake on its plate and considered Mrs. Portwine’s words. “Did Mr. Sullivan forbid Mrs. Sullivan from calling here again?”

Mrs. Portwine glanced at Mrs. Sullivan. “Perhaps he did speak to her to that purpose, but Mrs. Sullivan is not without her own powers of persuasion. All I know is that in the end, she was not only not forbidden to come to this house; she was allowed to watch Mr. Sullivan and me in the bedroom, via a two-way mirror. I imagine that when they reunited afterward, things were . . . interesting enough that Mr. Sullivan went along with the new arrangement.”

Mrs. Sullivan did not blush, but merely bristled in mutinous silence.

Charlotte felt an uncharacteristic urge to laugh—even she could not have anticipated all the salacious details erupting forth this evening. “How often did this happen?”

“Mostly on evenings when Mr. Sullivan attended a social function by himself. Whitmer would pick up Mrs. Sullivan from the back of her house. They might make a stop outside the function, for Mrs. Sullivan to catch a glimpse of her husband, if she could, before coming here. And then Whitmer would go back and bring Mr. Sullivan when he was done.”

“Mr. Sullivan no longer worried about his wife’s presence in this house?”

“He told me to keep her in sight. And not to allow her near the study, which he kept locked at all times.”

“What about when you and Mr. Sullivan were engaged