Convicted Innocent(53)

“He’ll come with me, then.” Archibald stated.

Horace shook his head. “It’s not as simple as that.”

“Why? Clearly we’re victims in this mess.”

The inspector stared at Archibald for a moment, then glanced pointedly around the arena, and then back at the senior Harker.

“I think not.”





Epilogue



Early May 1887

“—An’ you must be Mrs. Tipple.”

Mathilda grasped the hand offered to her politely, sizing up the woman before her. She’d heard of Penelope Marvelle before, of course, but this was the first time they’d met.

The young woman was tall and quite pretty, had a brilliant crown of flaming ginger hair, and her smile and merry laugh were catching. Indeed, Ms. Marvelle’s expression was one of genuine delight as she greeted the Tipples.

“Charmed.” Mathilda felt her polite smile broaden and warm to match the younger woman’s vibrant sincerity.

“Grand, dearie! Though I fear I must be off, now. I’ll leave you to m’ boys.”

Ms. Marvelle turned, leaned over, and gave David Powell a kiss on both cheeks. He mirrored the gesture with a smile and nodded in good humor to her enjoinder to behave.

Then the young woman turned to Lewis Todd, whose bed at London Hospital was right next to the little clergyman’s. Mathilda noticed Ms. Marvelle’s laughing blue eyes soften for an instant as she stood over the policeman, but then they sparkled with a sudden twinkle of mischief.

Sergeant Todd quirked an eyebrow at the young woman as she leaned close. She whispered something in his ear and then straightened, an expectant look on her face. A pause, then both of the sergeant’s ears shot a bright red.

Both she and Powell laughed; Lewis harrumphed as his cheeks flushed a bit as well, but his eyes crinkled in a smile.

“Well, au revoir!” Ms. Marvelle gave one of Sergeant Todd’s hands a squeeze, straightened her hat, and then walked briskly from the ward, nodding to the Tipples in passing.

Mathilda smiled inwardly as she noticed how Lewis watched the young woman as she went. It was about time someone caught his fancy!

Her husband had been hanging back throughout this exchange, but now he drew up chairs for both of them and they sat down to converse.

This was their second visit, though Rory had stopped by a time or two on his own. The first time, David Powell had still been unconscious, and Lewis Todd had been little better; now, nearly a week after their rescue, both young men were sitting up in bed and looking markedly better.

“They let you smoke in here?”

“This?” Powell held up briar pipe he’d been turning over in hand and smiled. “Alas, no! They’re quite adamant about it, so I had to sneak out yesterday. Heavenly!”

The clergyman nodded to the partly open drawer in the table between the beds. As Mathilda looked inside, he went on.

“My housekeeper learned I’d lost mine and mentioned it to a friend or two. Still trying to figure which one I like best.”

The drawer had more than a dozen smoking pipes of all shapes and sizes, as well as a half-dozen pouches of pipe tobacco.

“Only ‘a friend or two?’”

Powell chuckled.

“Well, perhaps a few more. Sometimes a body loses something, but, by God’s grace, it comes back to him—” he leaned over the drawer and made a quick count, “—fourteen-fold!”

He paused, a faraway look in his eyes, which seemed to Mathilda to have nothing to do with the contents of the drawer. With a small smile and a shake of his head though, Powell straightened.