Downtime Page 34

  "I rather thought it was because you put your work above all things."

  "Well, that's a big part of it."

  "Why do you?"

  If I had a nickel for every time I was asked that question... "It's my job to pull monsters like Jack off the street. Granted, I haven't accomplished anything in this case, but I've managed to haul in a few in my own time."

  "How many must you capture to finish your penance?"

  I smiled reluctantly at that. "Got me all figured out, huh?"

  He slid closer and rested his chin on my shoulder. "When my mother died, she came to me in a dream, to ask me to let her go. The guilt I'd felt over not being able to save her kept her coming back to try to ease it. In my darkest moments I was quite certain that if I'd only concealed my own weaknesses better, she might have borne up for a longer time under hers."

  "Come on, you were just a kid," I muttered, all too aware of the point he was trying to get across. Archie had come to me in a dream and maybe he'd been doing the same, trying to get through to me as we rode one last time through the fields. I'd spent years of my life coming up with every scenario, every way in the world I could have prevented his death. And all those years he might've been hanging around, waiting for me to finally figure out that I'd been powerless to prevent it. That if I'd been there with him, I might have died too.

  Whatever the case, my guilt wasn't doing either of us any good. And I had to figure the same went for Sully. But I couldn't let Sully go, not right now anyway. He was my safety net, my only link to my own world. With all its real moments, Ezra's world was still a dream and my interrupted life stood far in the future, at a standstill, waiting for my return.

  What worried me now was that I didn't mind letting it wait. Turning back onto my side, I molded myself against a half-asleep Ezra and closed my eyes, wanting only to lose myself in the warmth and comfort of his presence. His arms came around me as mine went around him and he breathed an appreciative sigh. "Morgan."

  "Yeah?"

  "If my father had refused..."

  I nuzzled his hair, hiding a smile. "Derry did say storming the gates seemed to come second nature to me."

  A bright, clear dawn woke us and at breakfast, we discovered Derry had sown the seeds of our plan far and wide. And we weren't the only ones headed for a day in the sun. The crisp morning had lured everyone in town to the same destination. Nannies pushed carriages across the vast open green, older children trailing after like baby ducks. Women strolled in stately procession under their umbrellas or sat in the shaded pavilion listening to a band. It was picture-perfect, in disturbing and startling contrast to the dark grimy world I'd gotten a glimpse of in Whitechapel.

  We spread a blanket under an enormous ivy-draped oak and I handed over all eight hundred pounds of hamper with relief. The day was warming up and I had no intention of spending it in layers of clothing. Tossing my hat into the grass, I shucked off my coat and dropped onto a corner of the blanket to let the breeze wash over me. Ezra divested himself of hat and coat too and sat beside me. I watched him from the corner of my eye as he watched the boats in the distance. He might be more relaxed but he was still not quite himself.

  "You row in college?"

  "Some, yes."

  "As did I," Henry said from his perch on a low, twisting limb.

  "Yeah?" I couldn't resist. I nudged Ezra. "That old Oxford and Cambridge rivalry, huh? You guys win?"

  Derry's smirk should have warned me, but it took Kathleen's soft groan and the flush of angry color in Henry's face to get through to me that I'd just unearthed a serious bone of contention. Ezra was struggling to suppress a smile, but the glint in his eyes was unabashedly wicked. "We gave a good account of ourselves."

  "That was our win and should have been called so," Henry said. "Dead heat, indeed."

  "Dead heat?" I grinned. "How about a rematch?"

  Kathleen and Hannah came as far as the boat house with us. Once Henry and Ezra had decided on a finish line, they chose two boats and I rolled up my sleeves and hopped in with Ezra, Derry with Henry. Hannah started us off with a wave of my handkerchief and I put my back into it, determined to leave Henry and Derry in the dust. It was clear to picnickers on the shore what we were doing and I heard some cheering as we passed, though I had no idea who they were rooting for.

  Ezra and I fell into a smooth rhythm and I did my best to not be distracted by the play of muscles in his bare forearms or the way the wind whipped his hair but couldn't flatten the curl--or the delighted grin he flashed me as we passed up Derry and Henry and kept going. I tried to not be distracted, but damn, it wasn't easy. They caught up with us and we pulled hard and fast to stay ahead. We crossed the finish first and, dropping our oars, raised our arms in triumph. Applause came from the shore and I waved cheerfully at Henry as they caught up again. He appeared unamused as he and Derry turned the boat around to head back.

  Ezra, flushed and laughing, gave my hand a shake. "Top notch. You must have rowed at school, then."

  "Well, actually I didn't."

  "Oh heavens, don't tell Henry. We've tormented him enough." He was grinning from ear to ear and looked as if he wanted to kiss me. I wanted the same. Instead, I gave his hand a squeeze before letting go. We rowed slowly back, savoring our victory and accepting the congratulations of other boaters along the way.

  At the boat house, we met with a less enthusiastic group. Henry, on the bench wringing out his pant legs, ignored us. Hannah was hardly any more aware of our return, preoccupied trading bashful smiles with the young barefoot fellow renting the boats. Kathleen, who'd been immersed in a book, looked over at us and clucked her tongue at our winded, disheveled appearance. "I hope you've quite gotten that out of your systems. It is time for lunch."

  Our picnic lunch was not the haphazard affair I remembered from childhood. Kathleen set a tidy table even when the table was a blanket on the grass. It had to be my first without paper plates. While we ate, I tried to keep the conversation innocuous, but Henry wouldn't let it stay that way.

  "Lady Marchmont's party, Ezra. You haven't said a word about it."

  "Henry," Derry burst out in disbelief and I threw in an exasperated glare for good measure. Ezra smiled at us with good humor.

  "It's quite all right. Go on, Henry. What did you want to know?"

  Henry's expression settled into its natural pained state. "Sarah Danby mentioned that you left early, without a word to anyone. One would have thought a French leave quite beneath you."

  That sounded less than complimentary. "You weren't there," I reminded him coolly. "You have no idea what went on, so I don't think you have any business giving Ezra a hard time."

  Ezra squeezed my wrist, trying to reassure me. "I should not have gone at all. I've done enough to hurt Charlotte. And truth to tell, I wasn't comfortable in that crowd."

  "They did cut you, then," Kathleen said, her eyes steely gray with her slower burning anger.

  "Not everyone. But it doesn't matter now." He shook his head decidedly. "It isn't as important to me as it once was. Not as important to me as all of you."

  They were quiet, smiling, and Kathleen had her head bent suspiciously over her teacup.

  "And none of you need tiptoe around me," Ezra said firmly. "My life has changed, yes, but I will believe for the better."

  "Aye, if you've no more bun-fights to worry over," Derry agreed, "'tis nigh a blessing."

  When Ezra laughed, I made the grievous mistake of asking what the hell a bun-fight was. He exchanged a gleeful look with Derry. "I do believe we've turned the tables on Mr. Nash. What do you think?"

  "I think I shall enjoy recalling that flummoxed expression for years to come."

  Even Kathleen couldn't suppress a laugh.

  I rolled my eyes. "Fine. Don't tell me." I'd just ask Dr. Gilbride later.

  The young boatman came by on a bicycle and, introducing himself as Tom, shyly offered Hannah a ride. As Hannah hopped unafraid onto the handlebars, Kathleen started to protest an
d Derry quickly intervened, inviting the young man to sit down for some lunch. I supposed to Kathleen's eyes, riding a bicycle was not the most ladylike endeavor. While the kids stuffed themselves on sandwiches and cake, I looked over the bike curiously. A long way from a modern bicycle, it was a spare if sturdy prototype in basic black and a good ten pounds heavier than my own bike at home.

  Asking and receiving permission, I pedaled it in the grass for a few minutes to find the chain drive was a little creaky, the seat hard as a rock, and the wheels, God have mercy, were solid rubber. I rode it over to where Ezra had appropriated Henry's oak bough, nearly running into him as I tried to figure out where the hell the brake was. Ezra grabbed the handlebar as the tire bumped into the limb, causing all the leaves to flutter. "You may wish to let old injuries heal before tempting any new ones," he suggested.

  I grinned unrepentantly and patted the handlebars. "Hop on."

  His eyebrows lifted. "Are you serious?"

  "Yeah. Come on. I'll take you for a spin." I leaned over and plucked at his tie. "Not afraid, are you?"

  "Immeasurably," he admitted with a dry smile, but nevertheless got up and handed his plate to Derry.

  Kathleen's eyes widened. "Derry, you must tell him he cannot be so foolhardy. They'll both be killed."

  "Now, my dear, bicycles are not so dangerous as that," Derry answered placidly.

  "Aye, the stitches you took last year weren't evidence enough, I suppose. The fellow who invented that ridiculous machinery should be shut away for his good and ours."

  I realized Kathleen's alarm at seeing Hannah on the bike had nothing to do with propriety. "Don't worry, Kath. I'll take good care of him," I promised her as Ezra climbed on, gaining a white-knuckled grip beside my own. "I've been riding since I was two..."

  The bike wobbled and Ezra slid against me. I grabbed him and kept the bike upright as he struggled to keep his seat. He was laughing. "Derry, I hereby give you leave to dispose of my possessions as you see fit," he said, clinging to the bars as I pedaled across the lawn.

  Picking up speed, I cut toward a path leading through the trees. It was by no means a smooth ride. Jarred by every rut and rock we hit, Ezra held on for dear life. "It looks like rain," he ventured, voice rattling along with the bike. "We should go back or we'll be soaked to the skin."

  I threw a glance skyward. "Nah, it'll be a little sun shower, at worst--"

  "Morgan," he gasped in alarm and I jerked my attention back in time to see a curly-haired little dog racing into our path.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I turned the handlebars, trying to evade the dog without throwing Ezra off the bike, and the wheels lost traction, sending us skidding downhill into the trees. Whatever we hit--my guess was a fallen branch--it flipped us off the bike and into the thick ferny undergrowth at the bottom of the slope. The ground was soft and damp; still, it was a landing hard enough to knock the wind out of me.

  "You do realize this will not fall strictly in with Kathleen's definition of sensible." Ezra sat up and brushed the wet leaves off his shirt.

  On my feet, I held out a hand to help him up. "What did you want me to do, hit the dog?"

  "No, but I'd hoped for rather a different result than hurtling into the bracken. Are you all right?"

  "I'm fine. How about you?" I combed the damp hair out of his eyes with my fingers, suspecting he was more shaken up than he wanted to admit. "Nothing broken?"

  "Nothing apart from the bicycle." Picking it up, he looked over the bent wheel and shook his head. "We'll have to walk back, thank God."

  If he had been shaken up, he was recovering nicely. I hooked a finger in his waistcoat and planted a kiss on him, and he smiled with a hint of reproof. "If that was meant as an apology, consider it accepted, but you're the one who's pushing the bike back--"

  I cut him off with another kiss and he let the bike fall into the grass as he put his arms around me. I'd always thought of kissing as a way of stoking up the fire, not the tender communication Ezra made it. Then again, even the mildest kiss with him seemed to get my fires stoked. Another minute of it and we'd be stuck in our ferny hideout for a while. He seemed to know it, too. With a reluctant sigh, he drew back, forehead resting against mine. "It's raining."

  "Is it?" I didn't care if we were soaked to the skin. I wanted to pull him down behind the tallest weeds and see if we couldn't set the whole park ablaze. But then I realized we were in danger of getting burned in a far less pleasant way as voices drifted down from the path. One of the ubiquitous nannies pushed a pram past, oblivious to our presence, but the tweedy kid trailing her gave us a curious look as he went by. Ezra pulled self-consciously out of my arms and I threw the kid a grin and a wave.

  "Morgan, for heaven's sake," Ezra whispered, choking down a laugh.

  "Might as well make a good impression while they're open-minded." I heard my name called out, then Ezra's. "Hey, listen. Derry's looking for us."

  We flagged him down as he hurried past under a damp newspaper and he looked us over in concern. "Take a tumble, did you?"

  I caught the wicked gleam in his eyes and wagged a finger at him. "A literal one, yeah. But don't tell Kathleen."

  Derry tsk-tsked as we came up to the path, pushing along the battered bike. "I'm thinking you're in need of a chaperone, but I'm not sure which of you needs it the most."

  He led us to the pavilion where the others had gone when the rain started. It was crowded with damp picnickers making the best of it while the band continued to play and a crowd that included Hannah and Tom whirled around the floor. A man with an old-fashioned tripod camera had set up a photo shoot in a sunny corner of the pavilion.

  "Shall we have a likeness taken?" Though Ezra made the suggestion with an air of nonchalance, I had a feeling it meant more to him than he wanted to let on. Figuring that I couldn't do much more damage to history by getting a picture taken, I agreed; and hatless, coatless, damp and disheveled from our biking escapade, we got into line. When our turn came, we took a seat on a wrought iron bench in front of an ivy-covered trellis, sunlight warming our faces while the rain continued to fall behind us. As the photographer warned us to be still and I wondered if Ezra would mind me putting an arm around him, he slipped his hand into mine and the moment was captured.

  I knew what he was trying to hold onto with that handclasp and I felt a stab of guilt. I might have opened his eyes to a few things, but I was fast becoming the albatross keeping him from finding someone on the proper Victorian wavelength, someone who fit him and his world. His life was on hold as much as mine until we found that book. It didn't look like the Theosophical kooks were going to come through for us, so maybe it was time to resume book hunting on our own.

  But just as I was going to suggest it, Ezra turned to me with dawning dismay. "The funeral," he blurted out, pulling me out of the path of the dancers as more of them crowded the floor. "I quite forgot."

  "I didn't."

  He looked confused. "You did say you wished to attend the woman's funeral?"

  I put my arm around his shoulders then. "I did exactly what I wanted to do today, Ez. And, you know, it wasn't half bad, really."

  "You left off investigating today for my sake? But if you believed the Ripper might have gone to the funeral--"

  "There were probably a lot of people at that funeral. I had a slim shot at finding him, assuming he showed up for it. Anyway, Sully's right. One agent alone, even with a smart psychic at his side," I added with a grin, "doesn't have a hope in hell of nailing this guy. I got caught up in the idea, yeah, and I shouldn't have. It put people that I care about at risk." I gave his hair a muss. "I pretty much dragged you through hell and back the last couple of weeks. And if you think that's bad, imagine what it's like living with me." Little wonder Reese had wanted out. Little wonder they all had.

  Ezra was quiet again and I knew he'd come to a far more generous conclusion than I deserved. "Stay here," he said and took off into the crowd before I could ask why. I wondered if he was hu
nting up a proper female dancing partner for each of us. But when he came back, it was with our coats and hats. Without a word of explanation, took my arm and hustled me down the steps and along the walk.

  "Clue me in on where we're headed?" I asked with a sneaking suspicion I already knew.

  "To the street for a cab," Ezra said and we did, with Ezra refusing to answer another question until he provided the cabbie with directions and climbed in beside me.

  "Did you hear a word I said?" I asked in exasperation as the cab started off in an easterly direction.

  "Yes indeed. And it will haunt you most egregiously, if you do not go and at least look about."

  "The funeral's over by now."

  "Perhaps. We shall find out."

  "I'm not dragging you through any more investigation. You were locked up in that asylum because of me."

  "My detention in St. Andrews was inevitable," he said calmly. "But I would never have escaped, if not for you."

  "Always trying to see me in a good light, aren't you?" I said with a rueful smile.

  "You stand in one of your own making." He gave my hand a squeeze. "Come, Agent Nash. What do you say to another go? We'll steal a march on the villain yet."

  He was something else; that, I'd been right about all along. "You'll wait in the cab, won't you?"