The Sign of Death Read online

  Miss Penelope was the first to raise her hand. “I don’t believe so. It merely showed him as a human being, with faults. After all, Mr. Holmes is oftentimes portrayed as imperfect.”

  “I disagree,” Miss Sterling said. “I like my heroes to be perfect. That is why I read fiction.”

  A discussion on the perfection of heroes ensued.

  William tried his best to concentrate, since he had thoroughly enjoyed the book. However, his mind was occupied with Mr. Harding’s death.

  How very odd that he had been found in the river. Hopefully it had merely been the result of a misjudgment on Harding’s part and not purposeful. He shuddered at the thought.

  Mr. Colbert nodded as Lord Temple finished his comment. “What is Watson’s role in the story? How does he interact with Holmes? Is his presence essential?” He looked around the room for debate.

  “I wonder if Watson’s presence is ever essential,” Miss Gertrude said.

  Another discussion followed as William once again allowed his attention to drift to the imminent arrival of his mother. He’d received word earlier in the day that he should expect her to take up residence with him in a few days.

  He sighed, garnering a glance from Amy.

  “What’s wrong?” she whispered.

  “Nothing. Just considering my mother’s imminent arrival.”

  “Oh for heaven’s sake, William, you are acting like a little boy who is expecting to be chastised by his mother. Nothing will change for you.”

  He drew back and regarded her with raised eyebrows. “You do not know my mother.”

  “That is true, and I expect to meet her shortly to form my own opinion.”

  “Lady Amy, what do you make of the hapless Athelney Jones of Scotland Yard in the book? Do you believe the police are ineffective?” Mr. Colbert asked.

  Apparently Mr. Colbert was not happy with William and Amy having their own private conversation, which served to remind William that Mr. Colbert had spent many years as the headmaster of a boys’ school prior to beginning his career as a solicitor.

  Amy blushed briefly but then recovered. “I can assure you, Mr. Colbert, that the police are not always effective.”

  No doubt Amy was referring to the two officers they’d dealt with following St. Vincent’s murder. Detectives Marsh and Carson had been so focused on Amy that they’d been blind to other suspects.

  The discussion turned to Toby the hound, whom Mr. Doyle had sent roaming through London with Watson and Holmes on his heels, bringing comments from Amy about her own dog.

  “Not to disagree with a lady, but I doubt a Pomeranian would possess the tracking skills of a hound, Lady Amy.” William couldn’t help but grin at the picture of the small white fluffy dog sniffing garbage and other noxious things in the more disreputable parts of town in order to uncover clues to a murder.

  Within an hour they had discussed and dissected the entire story. It appeared most of the members had enjoyed the book. Including their two new participants.

  “Before we finish for the evening, I have an important and exciting announcement to make.” Mr. Colbert looked out at the group with a huge grin. “Atkinson and Tucker bookstore is sponsoring a book fair. It will be held in about five or six weeks’ time.”

  Mrs. Morton raised her hand. “That is wonderful news, Mr. Colbert.” She turned to Amy. “Perhaps it will become a yearly event.”

  Mr. Colbert smiled indulgently at Mrs. Morton. “It is my belief that they are going to see how this one goes. I’m sure, if it is successful, they may well wish to repeat it.”

  Miss Sterling raised her hand. “Will our book club be involved in any way?”

  “As you all know, there are several clubs that meet here at the store. From what the store manager, Mr. Dobish, told me, they expect to have all the clubs involved in some way.”

  “This is very exciting,” Lady Abigail gushed.

  Mr. Colbert cleared his throat. “I have another announcement about the book festival that I think will please you all.” He waited for a moment until all eyes were on him. “Mr. Dobish has been in contact with Chatto and Windus, the well-known publishing house in London.”

  Sitting next to him, Amy drew in a deep breath and covered her mouth with her hand.

  “We are working with them to have the very popular Mr. E. D. Burton appear at our book festival to meet his readers and sign books.” Mr. Colbert looked out at his audience with a smug expression on his face.

  “Oh no,” Amy whispered. She looked over at William. “Oh no. No, no, no.”

  “Is something wrong, Lady Amy?” Mr. Colbert asked. “You’ve gone quite pale.”

  “No. I am fine.” She attempted a smile, but it looked more like a grimace.

  William was almost as shocked as Amy. She had been writing under that pseudonym since the beginning of her writing career.

  “That is delightful news,” Miss Penelope gushed. “I love his books, and if I could have him sign my copies, it would make them so much more valuable to me!” She turned to Miss Gertrude. “Don’t you agree, sister?”

  “Yes. Absolutely, sister.”

  The group started chattering about the possibility of Mr. Burton being part of the book festival while Amy looked around frantically, as if seeking to escape before the other members could ascertain her secret.

  Mr. Colbert stood at the front of the room, glowing at how his announcement had set the room to buzzing.

  On the other hand, Amy looked as though she might pass out.

  CHAPTER 4

  “Will we go to the morgue now, or wait until morning? I’m not sure how late they stay open. But then, I imagine most people don’t know that.” Amy gathered her things as the members rose to leave the meeting, chatting happily among themselves about the upcoming book fair.

  William’s head snapped up and he looked at her, his eyebrows practically reaching his hairline. “Excuse me?”

  She frowned. “What?”

  He withdrew the paper from his pocket where he’d stashed it earlier. “I don’t see where they requested the two of us to go to the morgue.”

  Amy’s jaw dropped. “Whatever do you mean? Of course I’m going with you.”

  He shook his head. “There is no of course.”

  She pointed a finger at him. “Yes. There is. You helped me with my investigation, and now it’s my turn to help you with yours.”

  He drew back in surprise. “My investigation! I have only been asked to confirm James’s identity.”

  “Ha! Do you suppose your man of business accidentally fell into the river? How many people do you know drowned because they fell into a river? Do you know how many I know? None.” She crossed her arms under her breasts and glared at him.

  The nerve of the man, to think he would leave her behind when something exciting like this happened. Well, actually a man’s death was not exciting—she said a quick prayer for his soul—but she would not be left out of it, at any rate.

  “No. I don’t believe I know anyone who fell into a river and drowned,” he said between gritted teeth. “But that does not mean you will accompany me.”

  “What it means, my lord, is we are in this together.” She decided she would need to use her feminine wiles; as much as she hated to do it, she would not be left out. She lowered her voice and attempted to look becoming. “I thought we were partners?”

  William burst out laughing. “Don’t try that with me, Amy. I know what you think you’re doing. I will not be fooled—or felled—by female shenanigans.”

  She huffed. “Female shenanigans! I will have you know—”

  A cough from Mr. Colbert, who now stood in front of them, drew their attention. He had a slight grin on his face as he said, “Excuse me, but the meeting has ended, and everyone has left.” He waved his arm around the now-empty room.

  Indeed, the room was vacant except for the three of them, and most of the lamps—all but the one next to them and the one by the door—had been extinguished. How could she not h
ave noticed the darkness? Well, arguing with William took all her concentration. That was how.

  William stood and held his hand out for her. “I am sorry to hold you up, Mr. Colbert. I am afraid we lost track of the time.”

  “I apologize as well, Mr. Colbert.”

  Mr. Colbert nodded at the note in William’s hand. “Bad news?”

  “Yes. You might say that. This is a note from the Bath police. A man’s body was discovered floating in the River Avon yesterday. The police want me to identify the body, since it is presumed to be my man of business, Mr. James Harding.”

  “Oh my. Not good news at all. Nasty business.”

  Amy left the bookstore, stopped right outside the front door, and waited for William to join her. He and Mr. Colbert exited together. William said something to Mr. Colbert and then joined her. “I shall walk you to your carriage.”

  “We have not finished discussing your situation.”

  William placed his hands on his hips. “I have no situation.”

  Amy poked him in the chest. “Hear this, my lord. I will camp out in front of your house and wait for you to go to the morgue. I will remain there in all weather and at all times of the day and night. Your neighbors will believe you have wronged me. Your reputation will be ruined. You will not be accepted in polite society. Your gentleman’s club will probably expel you. Your—”

  William threw his hands up in the air. “Very well. Far be it from me to allow you to catch an ague by standing in the rain.”

  Instead of showing annoyance, as he probably expected, she grinned. “Very well. When shall we go?”

  “Tomorrow. I will leave my house at precisely ten o’clock in the morning. I will arrive at your house shortly thereafter.” He pointed at her. “Be ready.”

  She felt like jumping for joy and then realized how very macabre that sounded. She sobered. “I shall be ready.”

  William took her arm and escorted her to her carriage, which awaited at the edge of the pavement. He helped her in and closed the door, then slapped the side of the vehicle as a signal to the driver to move forward. As she gave him a slight wave from the window, he stood with his hands on his hips, shaking his head as he watched her drive away.

  * * *

  Just to be certain not to give William reason to renege on his offer to allow her to go with him to the morgue, Amy was up and dressed and sitting at the breakfast table well before ten o’clock.

  “My, aren’t you the early one today,” Aunt Margaret said as she drifted into the room. She always moved with such grace that Amy’s bumbling through life seemed even more obvious to anyone observing them together. Nevertheless, Amy loved her aunt and honestly did try to emulate her, however meager her attempts.

  “Yes. I have an appointment with William this morning.”

  Aunt Margaret sat in her usual seat and poured tea into her cup. “Indeed? And to where are you two off this early in the day?”

  Amy swallowed her bite of egg. “The morgue.”

  Aunt Margaret’s hand stopped, her teacup midway between the saucer and her mouth. “Did you say the morgue?”

  “Yes.”

  Her aunt took a sip of tea and carefully placed the cup in the saucer. “I know I probably don’t really want to know the answer to this, but curiosity has always gotten the best of me where you are concerned. Why are you going to the morgue?”

  Amy leaned forward. “Last night at the book club meeting, William received a note asking him to come to the morgue to confirm the identity of a man who had been pulled from the River Avon.”

  “Why William?” Aunt Margaret placed her hand on her chest. “Oh goodness, not a family member, I hope?”

  Amy waved her hand. “No. They believe the man to be William’s man of business.”

  Aunt Margaret cringed. “First thing in the morning? How awful.”

  Amy shrugged and continued with her meal. “Best to get it over with.”

  Her aunt cleared her throat. “Amy, love. I have always admired your—shall we say—spirited personality. I love your ability to create stories that people want to read and the gusto with which you conjure up fake murders and solve the gruesome tales. But even I am a bit taken aback by your enthusiasm about going to a morgue.”

  Amy put her fork down and looked over at her aunt. “Yes. Perhaps you are right. I must put on more of a somber demeanor when we arrive at the morgue. I don’t want to appear too excited by the adventure.”

  She continued to eat. “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you, what with William receiving the note and all.” Amy leaned forward and lowered her voice, lest any of the staff hear what she was about to tell her aunt. “Our book club is having a book festival in a few weeks.”

  “That’s wonderful! I shall love to go to a book festival.” Aunt Margaret paused. “What’s wrong? You don’t look happy.”

  “No. I am not happy, because apparently the bookstore manager is going to try to persuade my publisher to have Mr. E. D. Burton appear at the festival and sign books.”

  Aunt Margaret sucked in a deep breath. “Oh no.”

  “Oh yes.”

  “What will you do?”

  Amy shrugged. “Well, I obviously can’t show up as E. D. Burton. I haven’t heard from my publisher yet, so hopefully they will be able to come up with something.”

  Aunt Margaret shook her head and took a very delicate, feminine bite of toast. “It is too bad you can’t receive the well-deserved recognition for your work. Even though I don’t read your books, I know you have plenty of fans.”

  “Yes. I know.” Amy sighed. “But Papa was adamant that if I were to accept the contracts for my books, it had to be under a pseudonym.”

  “It will be so nice when women are finally treated as equals and not as children, with men needed to guide them.” Aunt Margaret spread jam on her toast. “I wonder if that day will ever arrive.”

  “One can only hope.”

  They finished breakfast with innocuous chatter about their day and the coming Assembly dance the next evening.

  An hour later, Amy sat by the window in the drawing room that faced the street. It was about four minutes past ten o’clock. William was always on time.

  Just as she closed her timepiece, his carriage pulled up. She hopped up and grabbed her gloves and reticule. She had her coat on and fastened before he dropped the door knocker.

  Stevens opened the door, and Amy stepped out. “I’m ready.”

  William moved back. “My goodness. You are anxious.”

  “Not at all. Well, maybe yes, but more importantly, I didn’t want to give you an excuse to leave me behind.” She hurried down the steps, afraid he might change his mind.

  William followed and helped her into the carriage. “Are you sure you want to do this, Amy? It can be pretty gruesome looking at a dead body. Especially one that has been floating in the river.”

  “Research, my lord. Research.” She settled back and refused to admit to herself that maybe, just maybe, she was a bit nervous.

  They were both quiet as the carriage made its way through town, stopping for traffic, weaving in and out, making the ride seem interminable.

  “You look a bit nervous,” William said.

  She opened her mouth, about to deny it, then changed her mind. “Yes. I will admit I am a bit unsettled.” She held her hand up when he opened his mouth. “But I still want to do this.”

  The building where the morgue was located loomed before them. She accepted William’s hand as she stepped out of the vehicle and took a deep breath.

  Inside the building, a young man at the desk right by the front door stood as they entered. “Good morning, sir. How may I help you?”

  “Good morning. I am Lord Wethington, and this is Lady Amy Lovell. We are here to confirm the identification of Mr. James Harding.”

  The man nodded, picked up some papers, looked over at Amy, and gulped. “Are you sure you want to view the body, my lady?”

  “Yes. I am sure.” No. I am not sure,
but now that I’ve made a fuss over it, I can’t back down and appear a fool.

  “Very well. If you will follow me.” He led them down a flight of stairs, around a corner, and then down another flight of stairs. It got darker and damper as they descended. Amy’s heart began to pound, and her mouth dried up. She rubbed her palms over her arms, trying to warm herself.

  Finally, after a third flight of stairs, they walked the length of a long corridor, the smells noxious enough that she covered her mouth and nose with a handkerchief William handed her.

  The man leading them opened a door and stepped aside to let them enter. He pointed to a table in the corner of the room, where a body lay, a cloth of some sort covering it.

  Amy glanced at William, who looked quite pale and kept swallowing. She grabbed his hand, and they moved toward the table. The man lifted the top of the sheet to reveal the man’s face.

  William glanced at the body, then closed his eyes and opened them again. Looking over at their escort, he said, “Yes. I am afraid that is Mr. James Harding.”

  A loud buzzing sound kept Amy from hearing William’s voice very well, which seemed to come from a great distance. The room grew very dim, and she blinked to regain her vision. She noticed that her knees had turned to liquid and her limbs had become quite heavy.

  She grabbed William’s arm just as she slid to the floor.

  * * *

  When she opened her eyes, she was lying on a sofa in a strange office. William sat alongside her, studying her carefully. “Are you all right, Amy?”

  She attempted to sit up, but he touched her shoulder to keep her from rising. “I think you need to give yourself a little time.” He handed her a cup of water, which she sipped.

  “What happened?” Her head was pounding, and she wasn’t exactly sure how she had come to be lying on a sofa in an unknown office.

  “You fainted.”

  She shook her head. Goodness, that wasn’t a good idea with her head hurting. “I don’t faint.”