Tuesday Morning...
Despite Meyers' advice to leave at first daylight, there was no alarm or clock in the room, so when William awoke, he hoped that it wasn't too late as he stretched and scattered the cobwebs from his mind. After murmuring a quick prayer of thanks, he also added one of petition for a safe and quick end to their mission. William sighed and looked around at the secret room.
The sooner this was done, the sooner we can return to our suite at the Windsor…if the Windsor would still have us that is…
He was not pleased to be granted the reputation of suspected treason, even if it ultimately was a ruse to save his life. A small part of his mind considered whether or not Terence Meyers, for all he was being helpful, wasn't getting some perverse satisfaction with that at his, William's, expense. But there was a bigger, more immediate problem….
While his own whereabouts might therefore be explained to the powers that be and the public, even in such a humiliating way, Julia's absence was not. People in Toronto would still be wondering about her safety, so together, they decided she would write a letter to the Toronto Gazette, explaining she had never been kidnapped at all, but had gone into seclusion upon learning of her husband's arrest for treason and asking to be left alone at this most difficult time while she worked to prove his innocence. The letter was also going to ask the Gazette to publish a retraction to Miss Cherry's erroneous, inflammatory story. William believed that would buy them a day or two at most, with Graham no doubt trying to verify her location.
Perhaps Graham will think that Chief Davis was the one who actually had Julia squirreled away somewhere, explaining why both of them dropped off the face of the earth, he thought. It was not the best of plans but it would have to do.
Turning to Julia to wake her, he stopped cold as he took in what he saw. There, lying on the pillow beside him, was not his sleeping wife with her mass of honey colored curls, but a youth with a closely shorn deep red crop. Shocked, he recoiled immediately, not unlike when he awoke to find Miss Hall dead next to him in bed.
Good Lord! A dead woman, and now a boy?
William was alarmed. He sat up with his heart racing in reaction while simultaneously registering that it was Julia's head on the pillow. What? Knowing it was her next to him and not some stranger helped…a little. He had no idea how to take this sudden development, as he'd always loved her hair, had loved the intimacy of him being the only one to see with her hair fully down… and now it was gone!
Instead of waking her, he got up and began to get ready, trying to get rid of his agitation and disappointment by reminding himself that it was, after all, her hair. He even contemplated just leaving her and righting the situation on his own, but he knew that would only make her even angrier at him.
Sighing again, he went to the bathroom to perform his daily ablutions when he spied a jar of Henna dye and some scraps Julia's hair scattered on the floor. He picked up a long, golden curl, having the urge to take it as a keepsake. He did so, wrapping it up in a handkerchief and made a mental note to tuck it away in a safe place.
So this is what she was up to after I went to bed…
Shaking his head, he went about getting ready for the day, thinking about the tension between them of late. Even before this whole mess had transpired, Julia had seemed ever so slightly put out with him, and he wasn't sure why.
Her anger at the events of the last week he could understand, but before that? He was at a loss. If they both survived this ordeal, they would have to talk about their current impasse.
But they'd never been very good at that kind of conversation, and he had never cared for conflict, least of all with her. Perhaps he would dress, and start to ready the cart for their journey on his own, assuming the noise and actions would wake her up.
Hopefully it isn't too late in the day to get started, he mused as he opened the sliding door and began the necessary preparations and praying that Julia wouldn't see straight through his avoidance.
It had been past first light, but thankfully not all that late - maybe six o'clock when they left the farm. William and Julia agreed it was just as well, since it would allow Meyers more time to arrive in Ottawa with the imposter 'William Murdoch' and establish him as being in Ottawa; their enemies would hopefully take the bait and stop looking for him in Toronto. With their meager belongings loaded into the wagon and several miles behind them, William was hopeful they wouldn't be recognized dressed as farmers going into the city to do business along with all the other rural traffic on the roadway.
Julia swayed on the hard wooden seat next to her husband, reminding herself to slouch and assume the posture of an adolescent boy. Knowing how much he loved her hair, Julia had been looking forward to seeing his reaction when he realized what she had done with it, but as that had happened while she was still asleep, it had been denied to her. Still though, she was willing to bet that he had made a point to be busy this morning so that he could avoid mentioning it.
Typical William, ignore it and it doesn't exist. But you can't possibly think that you can avoid this forever, do you? In fact, we're just driving in the country, no time like the present, she thought.
"So William, it seems my new hairstyle has gone unremarked upon. Surely it hasn't escaped your notice, has it? It is rather drastic, don't you think?" she asked. "Imagine going to the King's Club in this ensemble, it would certainly attract attention!"
Despite the hat covering his face, she saw him swallow and grimace before replying. "Julia, the last thing we need to do right now is make a spectacle. We've got to remember that we're father and son, traveling to the city. We do not need to create any additional scandal…I'm already in enough of one right now as it is," he admonished.
Rolling her eyes at his resolute obtuseness, she shook her head. "Yes, William. I haven't forgotten what we're supposed to do, but that doesn't mean that you can't comment upon a rather drastic change in my appearance," she pressed on. She found herself getting angry at him once again.
"It's your hair, Julia. You may do whatever you like with it," he tactfully replied.
"Yes, but I'm asking my husband! I know that you've always loved my hair, and I've just cut it off. I'm assuming that you don't care for it, but just say it, what do you really think of my hair?" she pressed.
"I would think it perhaps better to ask Terrence Meyers. He seemed quite taken with you last night," he countered. Telling her of his frightful thoughts when he first saw her lying next to him was safely caught behind his teeth. That was not something she needed to know.
Without a pause he reminded her of how important it was to keep their 'covers.' "You have to call me father and I have to call you 'son', or 'Gideon.' We are John and Gideon White, farmers from the Rouge Valley. If anyone checks, those are the names on the land office records for the farm we are supposedly from. Your hair is in fact an excellent choice of disguise," he admitted.
She knew he was deflecting again, and she was not surprised he was grumpy about Meyers, even if sending a dig her way was uncharacteristic. "I quite agree. No woman dares to sport short hair—so having it will give an instant masculine impression of me. It is amazing how unobservant the average person is, and the colour is close enough to your facial hair that very few will look beyond that and our story. The bonus is that it is so freeing to be rid of all that hair!" Julia exulted.
She heard a quiet snort from William and she knew that her comment had made its mark. Smiling in victory for a brief moment, she stared back out at the passing scenery and until a sobering thought crossed her mind: Since when was antagonizing William enjoyable? Julia spent some time considering that….
Other than the occasional comment about the countryside the couple didn't say much to one another, lost in private thoughts. Slowly, as the miles collected, some of the tension between them softened without any words necessary, eventually allowing conversation to flow on safe topics such as what Julia learned at her medical conference in Chicago and the article William had most recently read. Later that afternoon, having finally made their way back into the city, Julia began thinking of more practical matters and asked about accommodations.
"I have an idea of where to stay, but do you have a say or a thought? Of course the Queen's Hotel, the King Edward, or even the Windsor are out, but something big enough to serve many guests and that is nice enough to attract clandestine lovers. A hotel that doesn't ask too many questions so long as you settle your bill in cash daily," William stated.
Giggling, Julia looked at William. "I suppose you do know such a place, Detective," Julia asked.
"I do, indeed," he replied with a wrinkle of his face. "The Prince Albert Hotel. Let's just say that I've had police business there a few times over the years and that they've never been particularly cooperative. A fact that I never thought I'd be grateful for," William added with laugh.
Laughing along with him, Julia shook her head. "I think that suggestion will be fine, William. But I think we need a room with a private bath unless you want me using the public washrooms, which should be quite interesting seeing as I am currently passing as a boy," she commented.
With a grimace, he nodded his head. "Point taken," he commented as he made the turn onto a side street off of Yonge. He headed for a stables to house the horse and wagon closer to where the docks and rail lines met, their cover story being that John White and his son Gideon were in Toronto to conduct some business and receive a piece of equipment for the farm which was getting delivered by ship.
"Father and son" walked several blocks from the stables to their destination after posting Julia's letter to the Gazette, blending in well with the crowds who were jostling in the streets with 'Gideon' just behind his 'father' as they went, carrying their bags. Julia's disguise included a billed cap, round glasses and a neckerchief to cover up the bruises on her throat and hide the fact she had no Adam's apple. Instead of matching (or exceeding) William's height in her usual heels, hair piled on her head and crowned with a jaunty hat, in low shoes and a simple cap she only came to just above William's eyes. William sported a bowler hat and a half-bent Dublin pipe between his teeth. The overall effect was transformative—they looked nothing like the dashing husband and wife figures they typically cut in public.
William started feeling more comfortable with their disguises—no one looked twice at them, and if they did the only thing likely to be remembered was their red hair. Unlike the Windsor or other fine establishments, the Prince Albert Hotel was not a place where one went to be seen—rather it was for work-a-day travelers and the occasional assignation. The hotel also knew that its business was about not getting into the affairs of others, so with a week's lodging paid in advance, the hotel quickly settled them in a room by a back stairway possessing what passed for a private bath.
The Prince Albert was clean enough as evidenced by the smell of wood polish and floor cleaner, and Julia agreed it was a perfect choice until she laid their bags on the room's double bed. The meager weight of the luggage created an immediate cry of protest from the springs. "Private bath" she discovered, was a bit of a misnomer, consisting of a water closet and washbasin shared between two rooms with only a locked door on either side separating the spaces. Wondering if this hotel had laundry service (somehow, she doubted it), Julia locked the door to the opposite room and laid out her one remaining clean shirt, then stripped to get washed, eager to get the dust of their journey off of her.
Some farmer's son I am, she thought to herself.
She had a female outfit bundled into her suitcase, just in case, but no robe. Thus as she walked about the room nude to grab a few personal items from her bag, generating another bed-squeak, she didn't notice at first how William was staring at her, so accustomed she was to walking about in such a manner around their suite.
It wasn't until she heard the choked sigh from William that she realized what a sight she must be: the naked body of a woman with the haircut of a boy.
Deciding to bait him ever so slightly, Julia wriggled her hips suggestively at him. "Are you interested in a bit of fun before I bathe, Father?" she teased.
William groaned and rolled his eyes, shushing her. "Julia, do not call me 'father' while you are standing in front of me without any clothing on," he pleaded. "My thoughts are anything but paternalistic right now, I assure you," he added.
"All right, William, I suppose calling you 'father' might ruin the mood, but whatever are you thinking, dear husband? Are you still angry about the hair? I really did think it was the best choice," she explained.
"No, I was not angry and, yes, as I mentioned before it was a good choice-brilliant actually," he answered. Exhaling sharply, he stood up and walked to her, deciding to be truthful. "It seems that I am quite conflicted. My beautiful, enchanting wife is passing herself off as a boy, and yet I am still very attracted to her, which is rather disconcerting, Julia. Pray tell, what does 'Dr. Ogden' make of that?" he asked with a deeply furrowed brow.
Julia had been enjoying the relaxed mood which developed between them and was wary of breaking it, so she thought hard before speaking. "I believe we once had a discussion years ago about Nature being full of omni-sexual behavior, animals behaving as nature intended, did we not?" She closed the remaining distance between them and gently took his lapels. "I know you must recall, your remarkable memory being what it is. The exchange was one of the first heated disagreements we ever had." She smiled when he nodded and pulled her even closer. "I have no doubt you know it is me, William, no matter what my hairstyle is. So tell me, how good is your 'resolve' at the moment, Detective?"
William found himself completely enthralled, his attention riveted to her teasing blue eyes. It was so intoxicating, it took him a while to realize she was waiting for an answer.
Does she ever really know how much I desire her? he wondered.
William covered each of her hands with his own and peeled them off his vest, planting a kiss on the underside of each wrist. "Julia," he whispered. "I think my resolve is less a problem than the thinness of the walls between each room. There is no way that our carefully crafted cover story and disguises will survive a physical encounter between us in this hotel. Unfortunately, I am afraid we must abstain for the duration." He said it with what he hoped was a winsome and apologetic turn of his mouth.
Julia paused while considering the water-closet doors and rather vocal bed-springs, then relented, suddenly feeling rather vulnerable and doing her best to suppress her disappointment. "I suppose you are right. We do have to get some food then get to work on retrieving those recordings from that male bastion. I will get washed and dressed so we can set about surveilling the place."
William was relieved to see Julia smile wryly and kiss him, apparently agreeing with the wisdom of not straining the credulity of their disguises. "Yes, I suppose you must," he murmured as he relinquished his hold on her hands. "We have the rest of the afternoon and evening to begin the preliminaries. I suggest we avoid restaurants and stick to street vendors for our meals, and our first stop needs to be getting each of us a time piece…."
While Julia freshened up after their journey, she couldn't help but think of what had just passed between them. It seems that he does desire me, yet he doesn't act upon that urge. Why is that?
They exited the hotel and soon found a cart selling the famed Coney Island Hot Dogs that George and Henry had often gone on about, the memory stinging William as he swallowed his down, such was his anxiety over their fate. The morning newspaper edition Julia bought did not include any updates on the shooting, and only a small mention of 'Detective William Murdoch who was removed to Ottawa for questioning, and the case against him for Lydia Hall's death is being changed to a new venue to be heard,' right below an article on the expansion of shipping and trade along the Great Lakes through the Welland Canal, speculating on the ability of Canada to surpass the Americans for transporting goods to the interior of the continent. As associated article extoled the virtues of the Niagara Peninsula for trans-shipment with its railroad connections.
William thought the article about him was probably Terrence Meyers' doing. He prayed that the constables were safe and receiving the medical care they required as he choked his food down. Julia it seemed, had no associations with the food item, and appeared to be relishing hers.
"I dare say, what if we were to throw a party and serve this to our guests? Whatever would they think to have this as their main course?" Julia giggled, finishing hers with gusto and then delicately licking Mr. French's cream salad mustard off her fingers.
"Gideon! Mind yourself!" William said to alert her to the danger of behaving out of character. He lowered his voice further. "I should think that if we do have any friends after this fiasco, I doubt they'd be scandalized by our choice of food served," William commented dryly, forcing his mind back to the matter at hand.
"You're right, William, er.…'Father' and it's a pity that I'll never have another opportunity to shock and scandalize such "polite society" again," she said with a sly smile.
Their meager meal finished, they agreed to head over to the Bacchus Club and watch the comings and goings of the members as well as see if there was a way to gain entrance. After watching the front for a while and having seen no one of interest enter the building, they moved around to the back entrance to see what kind of tradespeople came and went and determine any entrance from that angle.
While it was somewhat boring to merely sit there and watch a building, Julia found that her spirits were buoyed by the simple act of working with William. Is this what had gone wrong in their relationship? She tried to follow the thread of change between them over time. He used to be at least as interested in me as he was in solving a crime or the evidence he collected and studied, she reasoned. She was used to how distracted he was on a case, when he was in pursuit of a clue or had a brainstorm, but this seemed different somehow. They had continued to work together after the wedding, so it couldn't be that, but she realized that they had stopped doing so as often after adopting Roland, and had not resumed doing more after his departure. Did William no longer want to work with me nor find me as desirable anymore because he now views me as a mother and no longer his partner? Or does he view me as fragile after having been shot last year and my subsequent emotional lapse? A combination of both, perhaps?
She mulled this over and added it to the ever-growing list of things they needed to discuss after this was all done. But this was not a topic for right now: William was firmly in detective mode, his mind mulling the proceedings and determining the best course of action. His mind was typically a very attractive part of him to her, and his intellect combined with his rugged and hyper-masculine persona at present, William was the epitome of the intelligent thug they had once discussed all those years ago. Taking this all in, she felt her body react with desire with him and ardently wished she weren't disguised as his son because she really wanted to experience this particular William in all his unguarded glory.
Oh William, you may think you're a peaceable type, and you may pass yourself off as a gentleman, but you're capable of anything if you're provoked. And oh, how I want to provoke you. I used to be able to make you forget yourself… What changed?
Sighing in frustration, she moved away from him in the hope that increasing the physical distance would decrease her need for him. She also hoped that it would make her forget about the current fantasy playing in her head wherein William took her deep into the alley and showed her just how well they worked together, feeling his rough stubble scratch her skin as he thrust into her against the rough wall, her legs wrapped around his waist…
Of course, he was so engrossed in his surveillance, he didn't even notice her actions or her jagged sigh. After a few minutes, he leaned against a wall, and exhaled, clearly plotting what to do next.
"I think it might be best for us to split up and meet back at the hotel by eight o'clock," he stated. "Perhaps you can go to the Star Room and see if you can speak with Nina Bloom, see if she's learned anything, and if she might be willing to help us," he explained, glancing at his watch before slipping it back in his pocket. "If you hurry, you'll catch her before she begins her show," he added.
Smiling, Julia batted her eyelashes. "Oh, William…you remembered that I've always wanted to go - what an excellent idea. I suppose you'll be attending as a guest in the main room," she teased, hoping he'd take the bait.
But he didn't.
"No, I know where to find Mr. Giles, and I'm going to see how he might be of assistance. I have no doubt that he'll want to see legitimacy restored to the Constabulary, and if I don't miss my guess, he'll also hopefully be feeling vengeful towards Jeffrey Davis as well," he answered, oblivious to her frustrations.
"Very well, William. I will see you back in the room by eight p.m." she replied and quickly left.
