I am trying a different story format this time too, semi-epistolary. Since I can't imagine William journaling his feelings (except for marginalia in his experimental notebooks), I substituted confession. Season 1 episodes are mined over and over again for story arcs for the following seasons. Look at "Till Death Do Us Part" in particular. I shamelessly appropriated dialogue segments, ideas from any and all sources, made stuff up, and included a reference to MZB, the doyenne of fan fiction (see if you can spot it!) Thank you Maureen and the writers for letting us play in your world. Please R&R!

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Prologue

Saturday March 17, 1894

"Ruby! If you are going to help, then help! " Julia Ogden hauled on the handles of the trunk, bumping it fitfully up the stairs, while her sister pushed from below.

"I thought by helping you meant, you know, decorating or maybe putting things away, not lifting heavy things and sweating! Oh, look at my skirt, it has a huge smudge on it!" Ruby took her hands away from the trunk to swipe at her dress and nearly caused Julia to lose her balance and her grip on the top handle. Julia braced herself and with an expletive and a heave, brought the trunk to the landing and sat down with a hard thump on the floor.

"There, that is the last one." Ruby smiled sweetly at her sister glowering on the floor. "Why ever did you want to move out of father's house and into this place?" Ruby looked around at the flat and was unimpressed. Her sister had rented it furnished, moved in her clothing and a few personal items, and for some unaccountable reason that was beyond Ruby's understanding, seemed determined to live in it by herself. Alone. "How will you get ready in the morning without Mrs Hastings to help you dress? I can't imagine…."

"Ruby, leave it be. I will manage just fine. Now, I am tired after my very long day and I want to bathe and eat." Julia pushed the hair out of her face, flung her braid back over her shoulder where it belonged, stood up and surveyed her new domain with both hands on her hips. "Since I have no food in the larder, you are going to keep your promise and treat me to supper. I will keep my promise and tell you all about my first week at work."

Julia scrubbed herself in the sink, changed her blouse and she and her sister walked arm in arm to the restaurant. Ruby and Julia soon settled into the hotel's dining room and ordered their food.

"So, did you meet him?" Ruby asked as she sipped her wine. "The bicycle detective you were warned about? Was he as horrid as you thought he would be?"

Her younger sister's blond hair was smooth and perfect, Julia noticed, unlike her own unkempt curls. Ruby, always the picture of ladylike daintiness, and therefore father's favorite, Julia sighed to herself. Often at odds, there were also essential allies, and as she had no one else to share her week with…

"Aren't you interested in the murder or what I did this week?" Julia smiled, knowing full well Ruby has no interest in medicine, blood or guts. Ruby adored gossip which is why she probably wanted to be a writer. Julia relented and decided to indulge her sister. "Yes, Ruby, I met him Monday. Detective Murdoch. He got to the death scene before me." Julia's gaze went to the middle distance in thought. "I must say, he has a rather fine physique. All that cycling results in a nice…. posterior!"

"Julia!" Ruby sputtered a mouthful of wine.

"Well, that was the first thing I saw, coming up behind him. He was bent over the body and I did not know who he was. At least he does not wear those stuffy suits like father does." Julia did in fact find the detective quite handsome, with narrow waist and hips, broad shoulders, well-defined mouth, a few freckles and thick dark hair, brows and lashes…and a fine backside…

Julia recalled herself back to the conversation with her sister. "He is good looking, but seems quite serious and focused, very correct in manner. A little socially awkward. But he only blinked a couple times when he saw me and then treated me quite professionally according to my role. He even seemed to be able to keep up with the more clinical side of things—a great relief from my previous experience with non-physicians."

Julia leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner. "He terrorized the previous coroner with his questions but I find him refreshing."

"Is he single?" Ruby giggled.

"Ruby! Honestly. It would be impertinent to inquire. I have no idea, and besides, romance at work is hardly advisable." This time Julia giggled, the effects of the wine, she excused in herself. "Besides, what would father think?! A policeman of all things. It is bad enough I went to medical school and am employed as a city coroner. I would really have to work to sink lower in his eyes." Julia sighed again and drank a little more.

"Julia, father loves you, you know. It's just that you are so alike….Anyways, go on regale me with your week and make it fascinating, now that we got the important bits out of the way…"

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p. 92 Journal J. Ogden (1894)

Had a great dinner with R tonight. I forgot how charming she can be when it's just the two of us. I will miss her while she is traveling. This week was more difficult than I let on to her, so it was good I had the chance to unwind and laugh. I had never done an autopsy on a child before. Clayton Bowles may have murdered his family but lying in the morgue he looked so young and fragile. I hope I did not betray too much of my feelings about the matter. I am glad to be in my own home tonight and I believe I will enjoy the prospect of living here in freedom.

I know Father and R disapprove but that makes it more important for me to make it work. I got through the first week and my first case and it feels satisfying to have discerned the evidence needed to satisfy the prosecutor. There are many fine fellows I will work with and I am looking forward to being accepted as an equal. So far, so good! Detective Murdoch is intriguing and I am not quite sure what to make of him, but I suppose he and I will eventually have to figure out a way to work together. As soon as I settle in a bit, I will reestablish some friendships that have gone fallow since I was away. It will be exciting to have the theatre and music and art at my door again and I am even looking forward to dressing up and going out on the town occasionally. Father, I am sure, will suggest suitable companions for me in short order. I shall resist them all! What I am really looking for is someone who is an intellectual challenge for me. Tomorrow I think I will go back to the morgue and set up the laboratory more to my liking. And buy some food for the larder—I cannot eat out every meal.

It is late and I will sleep well.

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Chapter 1

Saturday June 1, 1895

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been three days since my last confession." William Murdoch sat with his head bowed in the confessional, his heart and mind elsewhere, despite his attempts to drag himself back.

"What have to you tell me, William?" asked Father Fair.

"I have sinned in wrath, Father, with evil thoughts of discord for my fellow man. I have been uncivil and uncharitable. Specifically I …."William methodically listed his faults until he ran out of them.

"What of sloth, William? You perform the acts of your faith but your heart is not fully invested in it."Father Fair knew his parishioner well enough to know what he was not confessing to.

"Father? I am on my knees every night…"

"Acedia and Melancholy, are these not sins also?"

William bit back a retort. "I miss her, Father. I was angry she died, and now that she has been gone a year I no longer dream of her. It feels like betrayal, abandonment… punishment…."

"William, God created the world and everything it. Rejecting the goodness and life in the world is akin to rejecting God Himself. You will never right yourself with the sin of anger unless you can allow love and happiness into your heart. You must love God with your whole mind and soul".

"Father, you quote Dante?" William shot back with a small amount of humor.

Father Fair smiled, of course William would know the reference. "Wisdom lies in many places and many planes. Look around you, William. Rejoice in the smallest details. Look with refreshed eyes at what is at hand in the here and now. That too is God; that too is faith."

"Yes, Father, I will try."

"Say 2 rosaries and reflect upon these matters. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, Amen."

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Sunday June 2, 1895

William dressed as carefully as ever for Mass, but found himself hesitating with his tie. He reminded himself he had given up sighing or arguing with himself, and with a grunt, completed the loop, pulled the end through and shoved the knot up under his chin, circling his starched collar. He was grateful the day was Sunday so he would not be facing anyone at the station, feeling too grim for words with anyone, even Mrs Kitchen, who was waiting downstairs for him to escort her to church.

For a while the loss was a raw wound that was inflamed, and then ached painfully, eventually scarring over, leaving a dulled longing in his very being. Yesterday, he had finished his nine days of prayer, paid for a Mass for Liza's eternal soul, and after today he would be officially setting aside his mourning for her, one year after she left him. As he viewed excess as ostentation, he would follow the current custom and give up wearing unrelieved black. Not that he felt any release.

Mrs Kitchen was very solicitous of him and he appreciated her kindness, but he was annoyed just the same, and angry with himself for his temper. I am either numb or angry, he observed. All in all I prefer numb.

He looked down at his pocket watch, checked the time and settled it in his vest, thinking of Liza and the birthday when she presented it to him.

"What do you mean you don't celebrate your birthday?" She had been astonished that he actually could let the day go by unremarked. Truth be told, since he was a child, no one was ever close enough to him for him to bother sharing the date, as he was obstinately vague with others about this as with all his personal information. Except for Mrs Kitchen, Liza was the only person to ask or care.

Liza chose the watch and engraved it so he would always think of her, and know how much she would always lavish her love and attention on him. Had things gone another way they would have been married and even have a child by now.

'Always' proved to be a remarkably short period of time, Liza, as you were dead within the year. William ground his teeth, and set his jaw. Well then, let's get on with it. He stroked the watch pocket reflexively, donned his black suit jacket, found his hat and went slowly down the stairs.

Beatrice Kitchen, his landlady, waited patiently in the parlour with her bonnet on. She accepted as much of a smile as her boarder could muster and took his arm for the walk to

St Paul's, down Ontario, to Parliament and then to Queen. While his manners were impeccable, she noted his mood and allowed herself to just hold his arm and walk in silence. There was nothing more to say, really. She had already brought out his other suits and brushed and sponged them clean, inspected his other ties and put them in his wardrobe. She would take the black tie he wore today, and every day for the last 12 months, and burn it (and its twin) for him, as it was bad luck to retain them. She doubted very much that other people would notice anything in the way of changes in his clothing; he attired himself in the most sober of suits at all times. But it was important to Mr Murdoch to observe the conventions, and she knew that even if he set aside outward manifestation of mourning, his heart was heavy.

Rather than grief fading over the last year, she felt he was becoming more morose. He had complained to her that he was being encouraged to rejoin society, persuaded only so far as to start cycling again this spring with Sergeant Seymour. Mrs Kitchen's motherly interest witnessed him fall into a kind of abyss with Liza's illness, trying to forestall the inevitable, and when he could not, try to capture every moment with her as they ran so quickly away. But he clung to Liza, still.

At the time, she thought it best that Liza and he did not marry, but seeing Mr Murdoch over the last year she was not longer so sure: Liza was free now, in the hands of our most merciful God… but Mr Murdoch was not. She believed he quietly viewed himself as a widower of sorts, but unfortunately with no claim on the status or the compassion that went with it. She prayed every day for his heart to lighten and for him to be happy and care-free again as he once was with his fiancée.