William rolled over and stretched, momentarily thinking he was back in his bed at the Windsor with Julia at his side. Their sexual reunion had been brief, then resulted in long-delayed rest for them both. Now, right next to him was a vision of beauty that was his wife, hair flung everywhere, sleeping soundly just inches away.
"Thank God," he murmured again. William shuddered recalling the impact of Graham's threats about Julia and word of the constables being shot. Not knowing the outcome cut at him, and he hoped Meyers would bring news later on. He slipped out of bed reluctantly onto the rough wooden floor and padded to the water closet to relieve himself, then looked into the small mirror, consciously examining his unruly hair and week's growth of beard. Meyers suggested they would need disguises, so despite going against his usual fastidiousness, he decided to leave his barbering mostly as it was, only shaping it into more kempt look as he trimmed his beard and mustache with the implements in the cabinet, combing his hair forward over his forehead to see how it changed his looks and was satisfied with the reflection. He hardly looked like himself. However, there was no reason to stay unclean, so working quietly so as not to wake her, William filled the small bath and got as much of the weeks' worth of grime off him as he could and started to feel more like himself. He found the new undergarments and clean clothes Julia had purchased for him and got dressed.
William patted his vest in frustration—no watch! He had no idea what the time was since the secret room was both sound proof and built to hide any light, but judging by his stomach it was well past supper time in the evening, and Meyers had not returned. Hunger clawed him sharply—the last thing he had to eat was an apple he stole from a green grocer. A small alcohol flame was all there was to heat water, so he made some tea and dug into bread and sharp cheese retrieved from the crate of provisions, carving slices with a pocket knife. His eyebrows arched at several of the purchases, wondering if it was Julia or Meyers who found them to be necessary. The aroma of the tea combined with sawdust was pleasant
Across from him, Julia appeared to be dreaming, her body starting to move as she uttered a tight groan. As far as he was aware, she had not had any nightmares in months, but this looked like the start of one so he put his meal down and crawled into bed next to her, holding her lightly so that she'd know she was safe and he talked to her slowly and calmly just as he had done night after night while she recovered from her ordeal.
Her moans grew in intensity and she grabbed at her neck, sobbing now in her sleep. William hugged her tighter and shushed her…"Julia, it's all right, wake up."
"William!" She sat up abruptly, gasping with a wild feeling in her entire body. It took a while before she oriented and really saw him, and felt his arms around her. "Thank God it's you! I was dreaming about…" her throat knotted, making it impossible to go on.
"I know, or at least I guessed." Since Eva, since the fire, even before….since the whole business with Roland, Julia had seemed more fragile to him, and he'd taken pains to be as gentle, even deferential as he could be with her. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten or push her too far. He pulled her up to lay against him. What happened with Franklin Williams was the likely origins for her terror. "You are safe now," he murmured, kissing the top of her head.
She buried her face in his shoulder, wiping her tears away in the process. "I could not breathe…" Her voice was muffled…choking…
"Tell me what happened, the whole story," he prompted softly. Choking was a sensation she'd had ever since she'd almost been hung. He knew she'd made great progress in ridding herself of that terrible memory but there were times when her body gave her the recollection again anyway. She had coached him before that talking about it took the power away from the hold the past can have.
"Three masked men took me from our suite and I think they chloroformed me. I woke up locked in a coat room. When they took me out to transport me to an 'alternate location,' I punched one—turned out it was Councilor Williams…"
"Who you then stabbed in the eye with a weapon you made?" William prompted when she stalled.
She nodded. "I fashioned part of a coat hanger into a point." Julia started to feel better remembering how she fought back. "I did not understand why Mr. Grier let me go, but I suppose being employed by Meyers explains that." Julia was still upset about the risk to her life—and saw that William was as well. I wondered what Mr. Grier would have done in order to protect his 'cover' —would it have included letting me die? Instead, she mentioned, "By the way, Mr. Grier said that Franklin Williams killed the labour organizer Edward Dobbs."
William's anger flared. "Yes, I know. That is what Miss Hall witnessed, as well that Mr. Graham ordered him to do so. I wanted her to testify to what she saw and she wanted to run away, fearing for her life… it seems with good reason."
Hearing an odd knock at the door, their conversation abruptly stopped. William waited until that same knock was repeated, and he then opened the door to reveal Meyers, dressed in his farmer's clothing, keeping up the pretense.
"Detective, Doctor. Might you join us in the main house for dinner? We have much to discuss, and I imagine it's been a while since you enjoyed a hot meal," Meyers proposed, trying to look past the detective's body which was blocking his view of the room. "I'm assuming beef stew will be suitable?" he asked with a wink at Julia still covered up in bed, and obviously wearing nothing but a sheet.
Offended at Meyers' inappropriate intrusion and forward behavior, he squeezed the door shut in the man's face, saying that they would be down shortly. He grumbled under his breath about the spy's boorishness but Julia distracted him with a kiss then stepped out of bed to dress.
She caught his eyes roving her body appreciatively, and he wagged his eyebrows at her and she giggled, delighting in his reaction. Perhaps there's hope yet for a more passionate reunion, she mused. Julia redressed in male attire, but did not bother binding her breasts this time
Waiting on the ground floor, Meyers escorted them into the small cottage and he'd been right, an aroma of a hearty beef stew and a basket of freshly baked bread was indeed a welcoming sight for sore eyes, setting William's stomach to growling. Thankfully, no conversation was required as they hungrily ate their meal largely in silence. After dinner, Meyers offered Julia a brandy, which she happily accepted, the liquid burning over her still raw throat.
"It's a damn shame that a woman who enjoys a fine cigar and drink is lost on you, Murdoch. No typical hausfrau. You could stand to learn a thing or two from her," Meyers commented, winking again at Julia.
Not rising to the bait, William merely rolled his eyes and answered tightly in the affirmative, something about always befitting from his wife's expertise and wisdom.
Julia laughed in response to these two men squaring off with each other and took a drink from her glass. As long as Meyers is charming in this way I can stomach him, she thought.
Meyers leaned in. "I'd recruit her to the Dominion Service if she could be persuaded. I swear she'd easily replace three of my male operatives, considering it takes three men to handle a firebrand such as herself. She'd never be bored, that's for sure. And she can certainly pull off the under-cover aspects of the job…"
Julia was feeling a frisson of thrill at Meyers' pushiness this evening, a bit like when James Pendrick swept her up in a stolen kiss-superimposed on a thread of disquiet. She had been aware that when he pulled out her chair to seat her at the table, it also gave Meyers the opportunity to view her trouser-covered backside and wondered at the time if he was deliberately trying to provoke with her husband. Now he was clearly doing so. She slid her eyes towards William, seeing him getting a little impatient.
Annoyed at the liberties the spy seemed to be taking with his wife, William snapped at the man. "Enough, parlor talk Meyers. What's the plan?" he asked, sipping his tea.
Meyers reached into his pocket and brought out bit of paper wrapped around a small object. "This is from Detective Watts."
William accepted it, but did not unwrap it. "What does it say?"
He got a bold smile in return. "Why, detective, you wound me! You are accusing me of reading other people's mail." When William continued to stare, he merely shrugged and took another long drag on his cigar. "It is a chess piece, a bishop, and a notation about a chess move involving the queen, and an address. All very cryptic. Seems like there is at least one person trying to rally around you after all even if the names you gave me did not pan out. Furthermore, Detective Watts said nothing useful at all, just gave it to me, assuming I'd bring it to you with a comment about the wisdom of ignorance or some such drivel. He is a strange fellow, don't you think, Doctor? More serious than even you, detective." Meyers' eye glittered. "What does it mean?"
William only put the item in his pocket, saying nothing.
"Gentlemen." Julia intervened in the staring contest. "How are we to get to the bottom of all this, and how does any of it affect national security?" She thought she'd say it before either of the men could.
"Excellent question, Doctor," Meyers lavishly praised her, giving her a slight bow and a superior look towards William. "First, we know Franklin Williams is Robert Graham's creature and Williams is implicated in the killing of that labour organizer, Dobbs, and is likely responsible for the dancer's death as well…" Meyers began.
"Her name was Lydia Hall. She had a name," Julia cut in. Her amusement over male posturing rapidly dissipated.
"Yes, of course she did. But as I was saying what we really need is concrete evidence of a grand conspiracy to place Mr. Graham as the front man for American hegemony - the thin edge of the wedge buying up valuable Canadian property to advantage our greedy neighbors to the south." Meyers sprawled in his chair, taking center stage. "Not to mention importing American organized crime to Canadian soil. The threat to Canadian integrity is very real. You have to uproot Graham to get to the bottom of it. You might be able to retrieve some evidence of Graham's complicity in Dobbs' death from the men's club where Dobbs died. My operative, Mr. Grier was able to set up recording devices, but was never able to recover them—you might find something useful."
"Would that be admissible in a court of law?" Julia asked.
"It may not matter—We have used recordings to get confessions before—for instance Alderman Hidell's assassination five years ago." William answered thoughtfully. "They would be a powerful tool for leverage, depending on what was captured on the cylinder."
Focused again on the case, Julia noted.
"My superiors in Ottawa will not allow me to help any further than I have already. I will be travelling with my prisoner, who is the man standing in for you, Murdoch, and delivering him to a Dominion jail on vague charges. We hope that anyone who wants you dead will take the bait, or at least draw attention away from Toronto so you can investigate in relative peace. But you do not have much time. I suggest you get going at first light. Here, take this envelope of money and identification papers, and I will leave the wagon and a horse for you to use as transportation. We are near…"
"We are in the Rouge Valley, outside of Markham," William piped up. "I recognized the geography, from our first encounter ten years ago here where you were pretending to be in land development. There were a lot of maps to study that time…" While the meal was satisfying, and he was grateful for the help Meyers was giving, William was getting more anxious to talk things over in private with Julia as well as get her away from Meyers, who seemed a little too interested in her. He saw that she smiled at him when he guessed their location. "I agree we do not have much time. How will we contact you?" he asked Meyers.
William received a card in return with his answer. "This is a private, secure number. Get the goods on Mr. Graham and his conspiracy. Call me and I can be back immediately in Toronto, on a special train if necessary." With that. Meyers stood, bowed deeply over Julia's hand and exited.
After William and Julia were once again back in their hidden room, conversation naturally and immediately turned to the many details they had encountered this past week. Being reminded of Miss Hall and Meyer's remark about people 'rallying to help' the two of them, worked on her nerves. William rose to the occasion, always when it came to his work, so what was lacking in our marriage?
"Did you know that Chief Constable Davis tried to convince me that you had an affair with Miss Hall? Even when I defended you, insisted that you would never do such a thing, he told me that very few women knew what their husbands played at in their absence," Julia's skin crawled hearing the insinuations in her mind. "At first he tried to be sympathetic, but his disingenuousness only made me angrier and more resolute. Then, once I got home and I saw our messy bed, I got angry. All I could think of was that you were missing, poor Miss Hall was dead, and that the two of you had been alone in our suite," Julia stated as she sorted through their meager belongings and took out night clothes for both of them. Why am I so sure William has been faithful? His religion? His morals? His recent lack of passion with me? Did that mean he was more or less likely to stray? Julia's thoughts tumbled in her mind.
William merely nodded. He knew she wasn't yet done.
"Of course that's why she was in our rooms, you were trying to protect her; Miss Bloom explained you were trying to help her friend." William was always rescuing damsels in distress—except sometimes that did not work out so well…. She looked at her husband's strained face. He knows it.
William's guts clenched, the shame washing over him. "And I failed. I failed to protect you as well." He reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze, pleading for understanding with his eyes.
Julia knew her husband was in moral and personal pain, which made it so hard to fathom his decision to cooperate with Meyers. The worry and fear she'd endured while he was missing hadn't evaporated when she was reunited with him, it was now turning into anger, which wasn't at all rational. William needed her help and encouragement right now, but she wasn't in the mood for giving it. At least not at this time. Her distaste for Terrence Meyers reasserted itself…and fears for whomever might risk themselves to help—even that poor man who was travelling with Meyers as bait.
She stood and went to a cupboard, suddenly wanting another drink in the worst way and got even angrier at herself for not acquiring any on her shopping trip.
Fists clenched at her sides, she turned and faced him, her voice tightening with pain. "William. After what just happened, after knowing about George and Henry….Gus Jackson…Knowing that Meyers' man left me to my own fate with Franklin Williams…." Her voice squeaked and her throat burned. She drew a glass of water and drank. "Helping you puts people in danger, William. You sent Inspector Brackenreid to find me. He did, you know, and almost got killed! It was a close thing, too close. If Margaret had not been there, I would have had to be the one to find his dead body—all because he was trying to help you! How could you ever give Meyers the names of people we know—the names of people who trust us! You cannot trust him!"
William's feeling of guilt about Lydia's death, his men, Julia, the inspector's tribulations was cutting. "I saved Meyers' life, got him reinstated with Dominion Police and into Prime Minister Laurier's good graces….This time he is on our side. For once I do trust him, Julia!"
"You are a fool then! A fool who can't keep himself from drawing people who are around you into desperate situations." Julia's pulse was pounding in her head. "You could not leave it alone and look at what has happened." Her anger was building pressure, anything to push away the icy fear in her gut. "You went missing, William! With no word to me! A young woman in our bed, dead. I thought you were dead as well…"
William's rage at himself overflowed. "Yes, yes. I did all that. I am so sorry, so sorry…"
Julia laughed bitterly, her voice burring. "You're sorry…are you sorry that even after Constance Gardner, even after your childhood priest told you that justice is not always served by the truth, even after Inspector Brackenreid has told you countless times to be careful…You still charged forward and sought the truth when you were warned! When will you learn William? You may live your life in a moral manner above reproach, but you of all people should know that some people have their secrets that they will kill to make them stay that way!"
William listened to Julia's tirade with an iceberg in his stomach, accepting it all. He could not deny her point of view or the reality of her concerns. He quietly and earnestly told her so, hoping she understood his grief and distress without defending himself from the charges. Eventually Julia admitted she was exhausted, afraid and still a bundle of nerves—but neither did she back down.
Things tried to settle between them when the focus turned to getting ready for their journey back to Toronto and the enormous task facing them. Julia started by asking what Detective Watts' message had been, unable to leave the dig alone. "For all you say you trust Meyers, you did not tell him what it means."
William let the needling pass, confident in his guess. "I'd say the message is from Percival Giles."
"What can he do?" Julia was surprised at the mention of the former Chief Constable.
William brought the chess piece out of his pocket and read the message, pleased his surmise was correct. "He reminds me that in chess, the queen is the most powerful piece and that when paired with the bishop is even more powerful." He smiled at Giles' characterization of him and his wife, wondering if Julia got the implication. "Mr. Giles was recently released from jail and it seems he wants to help. I imagine he has information, possibly gleaned from his time in prison or when he was part of the constabulary."
"Is that so?' Julia questioned as she assessed the totality of their belongings. "We will need disguises that let us go wherever we need to follow the information. Mr. Meyers did not give us a lot of money, but I still have cash from Chief Constable Davis if we need things," Julia was considering what would give her the most latitude. "I think I should remain in male clothing. If nothing else it will be easier to fight or run away if I need to…."
They decided therefore to travel as father and son farmers, since Julia's hoarse throat could pass for an adolescent's boy's cracking voice and they'd be driving a wagon. It would explain their closeness or intimacy, choosing to stay in the same room and a lot of other details so as not to raise questions. William and Julia agreed on a plan, burying their disagreements over Meyers and coming to share the same anxieties about the risks to their friends and acquaintances.
Despite her misgivings, Julia was becoming excited about having an adventure with William. She'd never been deeply involved in one of his investigations in this manner before. She had caught the earlier reference to "queen and bishop" being more powerful together—and agreed wholeheartedly. She and William were a good team and accomplished many things better together—she was often never happier than when working with him. She wondered if that was part of what was missing from their relationship.
In the bathroom before retiring, Julia looked in the small wall mirror. Her hair, usually joyously wild was verging on a rat's nest. She had torn a brush through it before dinner and was not looking forward to shoving it up under a cap for days on end as she posed as a boy. She turned her head left and right, undid her braid and started brushing from the ends to detangle the masses of curls. After only a minute the strands in her brush were adding up alarmingly. She grimaced and let out a loud breath.
It's very late and William is already in bed, she told herself. But better now than later. With that, she reached for the grooming implements in the cabinet and withdrew the scissors. I wonder what he'll think of this?