Murder on Cold Street (Lady Sherlock #5) - Sherry Thomas Page 0,118

rupture of our marriage, when I no longer demanded her affection, she remained dependent on my support, entirely aware that I was seen as a saint, and she, a heartless opportunist.”

Silence. But in the silence she heard something else. A tentativeness approaching nerves.

“What is it?” she asked.

He turned back to face her, but his gaze was in the vicinity of her knees. He raised it slowly, as if with difficulty. “Have I—have I ever inflicted damage on you?”

She stared at him—the question was entirely unforeseen. Had he inflicted damage upon her?

“No,” she said after a minute. “You were an education in humanity, not a source of damage.”

He blinked—and laughed. “I was what?”

“I’d always thought that a quintessential aspect of being human—possibly the most quintessential aspect—lay in dealing with what one wanted but could not have. For years I believed I would not have that problem, because all I wanted was independence and I saw a clear path to it.

“Then you asked for Lady Ingram’s hand and married her. And I became human. Now I, too, wanted something I couldn’t have. It was . . . an instruction in pain. But that was merely the pain of being alive and being human.”

They passed a street lamp, and its light traveled across the wonder and compassion on his face. She remembered that she had never brought up the subject before with anyone, least of all him.

She looked out the window at the approach of another lamppost. “I should ask the same question of you—perhaps I should have asked it long ago. Have I inflicted damage on you?”

He laughed softly. “I used to believe so. I had a great fear of being wrong, especially before others. And more than anyone else, you pointed out my errors. It took me years to learn that the burning sensation I used to feel was not my soul being crushed, but simply the abrasion of my overweening pride.”

Silence. A silence like snowfall, pure and crystalline.

She pulled down the remaining carriage curtains and patted the spot next to her.

He placed his hand over his heart. “My, a Christmas miracle.”

And came to sit beside her.

* * *

As Charlotte alit before 31 Cold Street, someone pushed open the garden gate and stepped onto the pavement.

Miss Hendricks.

Who noticed Charlotte and stopped dead.

Charlotte indicated to Lord Ingram that he should wait for her and approached Miss Hendricks, who glanced apprehensively toward Lord Ingram, even though he took himself a good thirty feet away.

“Miss Hendricks,” said Charlotte in a low voice. “You must never worry that we would put your reputation or your employment at risk. Our sole aim is to find out what happened to Mr. Longstead, not to disrupt anyone else’s life.”

“Thank you,” said Miss Hendricks in a small voice.

“I hope that a certain misunderstanding has been cleared up between you and a certain someone.”

At this, Miss Hendricks bit her lower lip, as if trying to stop herself from smiling. “Yes, thank you very much. In fact—in fact, I was on my way to the postbox at the corner. I’ve written you a note. I’ll give it to you now.”

When she had disappeared back into the garden, presumably to make her way back to her employer’s house, Charlotte opened the envelope and read it in the light of the lantern hanging from Mrs. Watson’s carriage.

Dear Miss Holmes,

At the request of a friend, I am writing with information that I hope will be helpful.

On the night in question, I did step into the house in question. Perhaps I was awakened by the sound of fireworks, which have been a sporadic nuisance in the district of late. Perhaps it was simply my own nerves—I was due to take my charges to their cousin’s birthday party fifty miles away and I have never been a confident traveler.

In any case, by the time I got up to have a drink of water and take a look outside—my bedroom faces the garden—it was half past one. My eyes fell on a certain house diagonally opposite. To my astonishment I saw someone enter.

You know enough of my circumstances to guess at my dismay. I am not sure what made me decide to have a look myself, despite the danger presented by a party in full swing in the house next door. But I dressed, slipped out, and crossed the garden.

Upon my arrival I found the door of that house unlocked. I was in the middle of the dining room when I kicked something. I knelt down