The Fleet Street Murders by Charles Finch Read Free Book Online

asked.
    “Is the pub open?”
    “Yes, sir. I ate there earlier and can heartily recommend the poached eggs.”
    “Put in an order for me, would you? I’ll be down in twenty minutes. Plenty more of this, too,” said Lenox and raised his coffee cup.
    “Yes, sir. May I draw your attention to the two letters on your nightstand, sir?”
    There were a pair of white envelopes next to Lenox’s book. “Thanks,” he said.
    “Thank you, sir,” said Graham and left.
    Good to have him here, thought Lenox. It will make life much easier.
    He took the first envelope, which he recognized as being on the heavy, cream-colored stationery of Lord John Dallington. The second, however, caught his eye, and he discarded Dallington’s note for it; inside was white paper ringed with pale blue. It was from Lady Jane.

Dear Charles,
I pray this finds you well. Thank you for your kind note, and Godspeed in Stirrington. I sit here at Toto’s side; under sedation she has lost all her good cheer and effervescence, and their absence does what their presence could not and makes me realize how much I had come to rely on them. Thomas handles himself badly, I’m afraid; and as I would only say to you. His concern for Toto is patent, and he harries the doctors with questions when they come in, but he has also been drinking. Toto instructs me during her coherent moments to bar him from the room, and he’s half mad at the exclusion, persuaded that these sorry circumstances are his fault. I try to mediate between them when I tactfully can, to soften words, but there is much I cannot do.
Charles, my mind is so full of doubt! Would that you were here beside me; then I might be at ease for twenty minutes together. I know we are hoping to marry in the summer, six months from now, but witnessing our two friends’ difficulties I wonder whether we might delay our union? Do we know that we won’t fall into the same traps? If there were days when I couldn’t stand the sight of you I don’t know that I could go on living.
I can hear your wise words from across England: that Toto and Thomas rushed into marriage; that we have long been friends; that our tempers are quieter than theirs; that our history and upbringing suit us to each other, as well as the content of our minds. Still, I cannot believe that it is right to marry so quickly upon the heels of your wonderful proposal (which I still count the happiest moment of my life, Charles). May we give it a year? Or longer? Please believe that this is written in love. From your own,
Jane
 

    At the bottom in a hurried and untidy scrawl she had added: I send this by Graham. Please don’t mistake my doubt for doubt in you, dear one .
    Lenox sat in his bed, dumbfounded. What surprised him more than the sentiment of the letter was its wavering fretfulness; for years Lady Jane had been so dependable, the person in his life he knew he could count on should all others desert him. It was out of character. He wondered if there was something more than she confessed to in the letter, to make her feel as she did.
    As he was about to read it for a second time, there was a sharp rap at the door, and Hilary came in.
    “Good morning, Lenox. Sorry to catch you waking up.”
    “Oh—it’s quite all right, James, of course.”
    “Your first speech is in forty minutes?”
    “That’s right, yes.”
    “Do you know what you’re going to say?”
    “I’ll follow what Crook planned out for the handbills. There are a few words I wrote down after you came and asked me to run.”
    “Good, good,” said Hilary.
    “Is anything the matter? You seem nervous.”
    “Well, Lenox, I’m afraid I have to return to London this afternoon.”
    “What? Why?”
    “There are committee meetings to be attended, and . . . that sort of thing.”
    “But you knew your schedule when you came up.”
    Hilary sat down and sighed. “I’m sorry to say it, old chap, but Roodle looks awfully strong here. I got a telegram requesting that I return,