Murdoch at the Rubicon
Chapter 2
Thanks again to the phenomenal FiBeeN and LemmingDancer. Their guidance and support has been instrumental in bringing this to publication. I thank you both.
I apologize for the delay. This chapter picks up the morning after the night before. Not quite as silly as Chapter 1 because William faces a personal dilemma. His choice will be a difficult one, but he believes it is more than worth the risk. But before that …
The first indication that something was amiss was the sound of thousands of birds who seemed to be perched on his bed trying their best to evict him. Seeking confirmation, he opened one eye, and immediately regretted the rash act, because the sun had apparently decided to take up residence outside his window. His mind, resentful of being forced from its restful oblivion and with a cruel sneer, confirmed his suspicions by unleashing the full power of its wrath—his head was going to explode. "Bloody hell!" The next sound was that of his alarm clock crashing against the wall. Inspector Thomas Brackenreid had a hangover.
Detective William Murdoch, on the other hand, was feeling unfairly fine. As his clock chimed six precisely, his eyes snapped open and by quarter to seven, he had washed, shaved, dressed for work, and was heading downstairs for breakfast. Of course, breakfast might be overstating the case though Mrs. Kitchen's breakfasts were the least offensive of her daily attempts at cuisine. Her tea was passable, and buttered toast was tolerable, but how she managed to ruin sausages and eggs simply by frying them was more than he could fathom. It was the opposite of magic. A magician created something wonderful out of almost nothing, whereas Mrs. Kitchen started with perfectly good ingredients and transformed them into inedible agglomerations that she euphemistically referred to as food. It was like a cruel joke, but one that William had long since become immune to. He ate obediently, thanked the lady for her effort and bid her good day.
Stepping outside into the beautiful spring morning, he mounted is bicycle and began his journey to the station house. On the previous evening he had asked for the day off, but he was not certain he had actually received permission from the Inspector, who deflecting the Detective's question, invited him to dinner, which William had little choice but to dutifully accept. Lingering, too, was his memory that the dinner conversation had been steered towards a rather awkward discussion of his sex life. It was somewhat surprising therefore that, William being William and the Inspector being the Inspector, the conversation did not result in harsh words and angry voices. Instead, it had proved to be quite the opposite. The Inspector, with uncanny insight, diagnosed what was ailing the man and suggested a course of treatment (in spite of a lingering discomfit), William was feeling rather grateful to the older man.
As Murdoch arrived at Station House 4, he was smiling widely. This was due entirely to the fact that while he slept, his mind had come through for him — it produced a plan. All the questions and what-ifs had been dealt with, and he now knew what he had to do.
Entering the Station, he found it a subdued place, every eye turned to him apparently pleading for salvation. George practically tiptoed toward him then murmured in his ear that the Inspector had come into the station looking like thunder, had gone directly to his office, posted a "Do Not Disturb" sign before closing the door and drawing the blinds. Every man knew that this foretold an interminable, nerve-wracking day.
Still keeping his voice low he whispered, "Sir, I was under the impression you had the day off, but I must confess that you are a site for sore eyes."
"I altered my plans, George, and I am hoping to take tomorrow off, instead. I was going to ask the Inspector, but I may postpone that for a while."
Looking at the expectant faces surrounding him, Murdoch put his hat on Crabtree's desk, and signaling for silence, he quietly tapped on the door. A muffled groan answered. Carefully, he turned the knob and silently crossed the threshold before just as silently closing it again. This Demonstration of courage filled the men's hearts with pride.
"Sir?" he barely whispered. "Sir?" He spoke to the man slumped over the desk.
Slowly and painfully Brackenreid opened one eye. He was reeling assaulted by the sound of Murdoch's shouting and the glare of the light. He took a deep breath preparing to shout his displeasure when a spasm of pain reduced him into a quivering heap of misery. When the storm passed, he realized that his detective was standing in his office. With super human effort, he managed to croak, "Day off?"
Having organized Brackenreid's rescue and escape through the back of the station, Murdoch stood among the group of constables all clearly expecting something of him. After a few worried seconds, the detective spoke with a clear authority, "Carry on!" In an instant, the station returned to its usual activity level leaving him, ignored, in the middle of the room.
Feeling unaccountably let down, he picked up his hat and made for his office. While he believed he could remember the plan, he decided to write it down, just in case his memory failed him. Removing a sheet of paper from the drawer, and with pen in hand, he added one or two ideas that occurred to him during his ride. Sitting in his chair with a faraway look in his eyes, William was reviewing what he had outlined with a grin curving his lips and his eyes twinkling with impish glee.
It appeared that the once unassailable wall of his moral rectitude had a chink after all, and granite blocks that had built that wall year by year had transformed into ivory dominoes. The first domino had already fallen.
Folding his list, he placed it in an envelope, sealed it, addressed it to himself, and slipped it into the secure inside pocket of his jacket. His more precious, and more personal burden, was the short letter he wrote to Julia. He was hoping to see her when he visited the morgue. Barring that he would entrust the epistle to George and only George to deliver directly into her hands.
With his day unfolding as he hoped, he made his way to the morgue. While he had a legitimate reason for seeing Dr. Grace, he really wasn't concerned about speaking with her. He was acting on the news George had shared earlier. Julia was going to pay a visit to Dr. Grace early this afternoon. Entering the morgue he heard the voices of two women engaged in animated conversation. His presence caught their attention, silencing them instantly.
"Good afternoon, Julia, Dr. Grace."
"Good afternoon, Detective Murdoch." Dr. Grace's flirting tone gave him an inkling of who had been the topic of their whispered conversation.
"William." Julia whispered his name softly, proclaiming her longing and affection the realization of which lightened his heart.
"Dr. Grace, would you please excuse Dr Ogden and me for a moment. I have a very important matter to discuss with her." Convinced she knew what the matter was Dr. Grace simply dipped her head and retreated to the laboratory upstairs. After her steps died away, he looked at Julia for a long time. He was first captivated by the brilliance of her mind and the strength of her character. That she was beautiful was a coincidence, but the sight of her always brightened his day.
Speaking as he walked toward her, he said, "If you don't have plans for this evening I was hoping you would join me for an early picnic early."
"Certainly. I would be delighted. I am doing my marketing later on, so I will pick up a few things."
"Good, I will pick you up at half past five."
He started to walk away, but paused and turned. Taking her in his arms, he whispered in her ear. "Please, do not say anything about this. My heart is in your hands."
With that he kissed her, then quickly walked away.
The station house was quiet again, but Murdoch was keeping his mind occupied with paper work. He had just completed a report on that day's Station activities for Brackenreid and was reaching for the telephone to call the Inspector and ascertain how he fared when the man himself appeared in his office doorway.
"Sir, how are you feeling?" The policeman stood automatically in deference to his superior.
"I'll live." Brackenreid waved Murdoch back down and then eased himself into the chair on the other side of the desk. "You look to be in fine fettle, I must say." His voice was a touch resentful; he was still looking a little delicate. "You were a real life saver today Detective, thank you for giving up your day off."
"Not at all Sir, I was glad to be of use. Truth was, that I had already decided to come in, I was hoping to take tomorrow off instead?"
"That would be fine Murdoch, barring multiple murders we shouldn't need you and I'm not planning on drinking tonight." Brackenreid looked at Murdoch sensing that the Detective still had more to say.
"I am seeing Dr. Ogden this evening." The younger man struggled to maintain his composure but despite his best efforts, he felt himself turning scarlet. Mortified, he began to examine his own hands.
Years of marriage had trained Brackenreid to keep a straight face but he was delighted to see such a reaction to apparently innocent news. He paused to enjoy watching Murdoch squirm and then took pity on him. "Well then William, I hope you have a lovely evening with your sweetheart." With that he stood, nodded to the young man and left the room. Something was definitely afoot and Brackenreid was looking forward to being able to tell the wife.
Heaving a sigh, William left the station and peddled back to his apartment, quickly climbed the stairs, and managed to avoid Mrs. Kitchen in one carefully executed maneuver. He wanted to review his plan for the last time. More importantly he had to make one more decision, and he needed solitude to gather his thoughts.
Keeping his restless hands busy, he began to pack the few things he needed in his valise, setting in on his bed when he was finished. Absently he sat in his armchair as he contemplated the next few hours. His life, until now, had been lonely and somewhat sad, although he didn't think of it in those terms. Never one to indulge in self pity, he did recognized that most of the time he felt disconnected from the world. His good nature and his faith served him well as he navigated the challenges life presented him. His years with the Jesuits proved to be his salvation. It was their diligence that honed is mind and intellect into force to be reckoned with.
Lacking the funds to attend university, he frequently sought knowledge, explanation, and enlightenment in books. In this way he had managed to acquire the equivalent of several college degrees. Whenever he required information on any topic, he would consult with experts in whatever field he was pursuing in order to establish a foundation from which to work. This often took him to the University where most of the faculty happily shared what they knew with him, as well as recommendations for further reading. Those, in turn, directed him to various libraries, and book stores. He employed his skills as a detective to seek out rare or unusual books, and through diligent correspondence, obtained most of what he required. People would have been astounded to see packets arriving for him in the mail bearing stamps of countries all over the world.
Far too modest to say, or even believe, William Murdoch was a man of enormous integrity and strength of character. His innate goodness was bolstered by his moral code, but above all else he was a man of intellectual courage. It would take all of these for him complete the task he had set himself.
He lived the early part of his life adhering faithfully to the Church's teachings. And up until a few years ago, well, since he met Julia, actually, he felt certain that he was living a good, Christian life. However, Julia challenged him. Although she never challenged his belief, she challenged the assumptions underlying many of the Church's teachings, and he had seen for himself the damage that too many pregnancies could visit on a woman and her family. Even though she had gotten pregnant out of wedlock and had an abortion, he could not bring himself to condemn her. Society treated unwed mothers and their children cruelly.
He was too kind, too good a man to believe that a child should suffer for its parents' behavior, let alone sins, even though that was the essence of the moral code he believed in. He could not reconcile the two, but he did not want to abandon his faith, he would not abandon it. It was too much a part of him. However, he was a logical person, the Jesuits themselves taught him to be that, and he could see the stark difference between an idealized existence where God's law reigned, and the reality of a world where pain, deprivation, hunger, crime, greed and a host of other sins and woes befell people who had no hope, no way to navigate a treacherous world.
Faced with the naked reality of life, most people had to struggle mightily just to survive. While there were many ills he condemned, he could not bring himself to judge everyone by an ideal very few could live up to. Besides, it was not his place to judge or condemn. That was another thing the Jesuits taught him. So here he was, a grown man facing a real crisis. Talking to a priest would not help he could not receive permission or absolution. This was between God and himself.
How could he make his case? There are reasons and excuses, and he was not a man to make excuses. However, he did have reasons, reasons that justified this step as far as he was concerned. They loved each other, of that there could be no doubt. There was no possibility of a child being conceived, of creating another life for which to feel responsible. What's more, he didn't believe that procreation was the only justification for intercourse. It didn't make sense based on everything he had learned. Besides, he had behaved properly, did not succumb to temptation, and almost lost her forever
So it came down to this, he was about to commit a sin, not a mortal sin, but a sin nevertheless. Now he had to decide if he was willing to commit this sin for her. He didn't have to think about that for an instant, of course he was. He genuflected before the Virgin's statue, crossed himself, rosary in hand and began to pray..He knelt in front of the Virgin's statue, prayed, and said the rosary. Without hesitation, he picked up his valise, and walked out the door, closing it firmly behind him.
Julia left the morgue barely giving herself time to tell Emily good-bye. Her carriage conveyed her to first on shop and then another until she was satisfied she had everything she needed. Once she returned home, she dumped her parcels on the kitchen table and hurried to the parlor where she sat breathing slowly. Her hands trembled. Never had he kissed her like that, with so much longing, with so much promise. Carefully she opened the note and read.
"My dearest Julia, I apologize for not trusting myself or my feelings. I know it has caused us both unnecessary pain and precious time. I hope to rectify that tonight. Whatever happens, know that I have no life without you, no joy, no hope, no love. You are everything to me.
Forever, William"
She sat quite still for several minutes, letting the certainty that he meant every word wash over her. Then she read it again, and one more time. She reassessed her feelings. Relief, certainly, she was so afraid she was losing him. Gratitude that he sensed her desperation as well has his own. Almost reverently, she slipped the note back into its envelope.
A smile spread over her face and soon she was laughing and crying at the same time. She jumped up and danced around the room. Smiling, she gathered herself and walked into the kitchen, humming as she un-wrapped her parcels. Making her selections carefully, she packed the basket with meat pies, cheese, pickles, bread, fruit and wine, so she would be ready when he arrived.
Scurrying up the stairs, Julia went into her study, and pulled a large volume from its hiding place in the window seat. She looked at it considering the implications of what she was contemplating. A few minutes later, she nodded and carried the book to her room, placing it on the bed. She spent several more minutes looking at her wardrobe before selecting what to wear. She chose simple dress in his favorite shade of blue, but decided against wearing jewelry, and after piling her hair on top of her head, she flew down the stairs to greet him.
