As they sat down to dinner later that evening, Darcy flicked a surreptitious glance at his wife, wondering once again why she'd been so upset about the news Detective Murdoch had delivered to her that afternoon.

Such an overt display of distress was completely out of character for her. Darcy had always admired the fact that his wife was a calm and level headed woman, not prone to hysteria, with only an infrequent outburst of ill temper if something truly provoked her. She was a rare example among those of the female persuasion, in that she was normally ruled by her intellect instead of her emotions. He rarely had occasion to ask her to show the proper amount of restraint when they were out in public, and, if he did feel the occasional need to attempt to correct her behavior, it was usually because she was prone to excessive exuberance. She could also be flippant about certain subjects, such as when answering what she considered to be impudent questions about her choice to keep her own surname after they were married. That being said, he was rarely embarrassed to be seen with her at the many social functions he had to attend as the hospital's chief administrator, because she almost always conducted herself so well. Her genteel demeanor and fine mind, combined with her patrician beauty, made her the perfect well bred wife for a doctor aspiring to bigger and better things among Toronto's society.

And yet, for all her good sense and good manners, Dr. Garland had often observed that whenever William Murdoch was around, Julia's normally placid exterior gave way to extreme emotional whims, and he simply couldn't fathom any particular reason why that should be true. In his opinion, the laconic detective was a dull, innocuous man, and with the possible exceptions of his passable appearance and his above average intelligence, he was totally lacking any particular traits that might make him worth any special notice from her. Given the man's dreadfully boring personality, coupled with the fact that a police detective's salary was paltry when compared with that of a physician, it was hard to imagine that such an insipid individual could inspire so many intense feelings in Julia. Still, it seemed the man had a subtle way of setting her on edge just by entering a room...as evidenced by what Darcy had witnessed when he'd interrupted their spur of the moment visit that afternoon. It was a very intense conversation, wasn't it? And I'm to believe it was merely something trivial...some minor item of interest about a mutual acquaintance? Hmm...not likely, but why would Julia lie about something like that? Why not tell me exactly what was said?

Sighing softly, Darcy picked up his fork to begin his meal. Julia had apparently overcome her upset well enough to be composed as she sat at dinner, but she still seemed somewhat preoccupied and out of sorts as she contemplated the roasted chicken on her plate.

Finally, Darcy coughed softly. "Are you feeling better, Darling?"

"What?" Startled out of her reverie, she forced a smile. "Yes, of course. I'm sorry if I upset you with my tears earlier today. I don't know what I was thinking, being so irrational."

"I was only upset because you were so upset, Julia. It made me feel so helpless, seeing you in tears like that…and I felt as if there was nothing I could do to help you."

She grimaced slightly as she sipped her wine. Of course he would make it all about himself... "Well, I'm feeling better now, so you needn't worry about me any longer."

"Good." Dabbing at his mouth with his napkin, Darcy continued as he reached for his glass. "The news that the detective brought you must've been...terrible…for you to react in that extreme manner..."

Her mind raced as she sought to come up with a logical explanation for her behavior. I can't tell him the real reason for William's visit...he'd never understand… "Well...I used to be very close to someone...before I met you, of course...and William told me this afternoon that this person has made the choice to take on quite a dangerous job...a job where catastrophic failure is a distinct possibility. This old friend wanted me to know about his choice ahead of time, in case he wasn't successful and the outcome was disastrous, so I wouldn't be completely blindsided by the news of his death, should that occur. I was angry with what I considered to be a very poor choice on his part, with my friend deliberately putting his life at risk, but after I calmed down and thought things through, I realized that there's nothing I can do about it. It's my friend's choice to make, not mine...and I have to accept that he should do what he thinks is best, whether I agree with him or not." Sighing softly, she bit her lip, hoping to remain calm. "I suppose it was considerate of my friend to make an effort to inform me of the impending situation, so as to save me from the shock of receiving any horrible news that may be forthcoming, but, just the same, it was terribly upsetting."

"I see." Darcy frowned slightly as he considered Julia's explanation. Something seemed amiss with her meandering story, but he knew that, with her deeply ingrained obstinate streak, she wouldn't be willing to share anything more about it until she was ready, no matter how hard he pushed for more information. Noting the stubborn set of her jaw, he decided not to pry any further. "Well, it's obvious that you care about this person very much. I hope things work out well for your friend."

She nodded, grimacing as she cut a bite of chicken. "As do I."

Smirking slightly. Darcy continued pleasantly, hoping to lighten the mood of their conversation. "I must say, Julia...I was amazed to see Detective Murdoch looking so disheveled this afternoon. I'm surprised that Mrs. Carruthers actually let him into the house in that state. Normally he's so well dressed and well groomed, but today he looked like a vagrant! I don't think I've ever seen him sporting torn clothing or that many whiskers."

"You're correct...Alma was quite agog over his appearance." Julia giggled softly. "She didn't want to admit him into the house, but he'd given her his card identifying himself as a police detective. When she showed it to me, she said she thought it was a fake and asked me to hurry to meet him in the parlor so he wouldn't have time to steal all the silver! I think she was quite surprised to find out that he really is a well respected officer of the law." Hearing Darcy chuckle, she continued quietly. "William said he was planning to travel by horseback as he went out of town, so I'm sure he decided it would be more practical to wear something besides his normal suit and tie. He has to travel quite a distance, and will most likely camp out along the way, so, being a practical person, he chose comfort over style."

"That makes sense." Buttering a roll, Darcy shrugged. "I do think it's interesting how at ease he seemed to be in those tattered old clothes, as if it was second nature for him to be dressed like that. I imagine that's because he's used to them, coming from a poor working class family as he does."

Giving Darcy a surly glare, Julia put her fork aside. "Just what do you mean by that?"

"I'm just making an observation, Darling. You've mentioned that Murdoch's father was an itinerant seaman who was often away from home. From what you've said, it seems the senior Murdoch never had a steady job, and I feel sure that the same could be said for both the detective's grandfather and his great grandfather before him...all of them poorly educated men who worked hard for a living with their hands and their back, trying to make it from one penny to the next...and you've also told me that before the detective was a constable, he was a ranch hand, and that he also worked as a lumberjack...so I'm sure he must be used to wearing dirty, worn out clothing as he labored in those rugged conditions. In fact, I'm sure he considers having more than one good suit to be a luxury instead of a necessity. It's quite natural for a man from humble circumstances to feel that way. That would explain his tendency to be overly fastidious about his appearance as well...he grew up with nothing, so now he feels the need to make his clothes last a long time, even at the expense of style."

Julia was outraged with her husband's condescending attitude. "Are you saying that you think less of the detective because he's had to work hard for his living over the years instead of having things handed to him on a silver platter? Don't be ridiculous! Why would it matter how he dresses or how poor his family was? It makes no difference what sort of 'lower class' you think his family belonged to, Darcy! William Murdoch is a brilliant man, and as highly skilled in his work as you are in yours! It's not his fault that his family was in no position to send him to university, where I'm sure he would've thrived, if given the opportunity. In fact, he might've been a world renowned physics professor or a successful mechanical engineer if he'd been given the chance to receive a proper college education! As it was, he was living on his own at the age of 17, working hard just to survive! I'm sure what clothes he was wearing at the time were of little consequence to him, since he was trying to earn enough money for basic necessities, like food! At least he was employed...he was doing something useful with his life. What sort of useful things were you doing when you were 17?"

So Detective Murdoch inspires Julia to become upset yet again...even when he's not present in the room! Pursing his lips, Darcy sighed quietly as he realized that this was one of those rare times when Julia had given in to her anger, and now, as her provocateur, he needed to defuse the situation quickly, or his nice dinner would be ruined. "Really, Darling...I meant no disrespect to the detective…"

"You meant no disrespect? Because you sounded incredibly dismissive of his talents, Darcy, and your disdain seems to be based solely on his background. You know, even though he did physical labor as a young man, he still found time to study a wide variety of subjects on his own, without the benefit of a formal education. He's largely self taught, having read voraciously over the years, and he uses that knowledge, combined with his vast intellect, to solve all manner of crimes, including several where he's used creative methods that he himself invented! His success rate as a detective, by all measures, has been astounding! And because of his meticulous work with the constabulary, he's well respected by judges and the attorneys for the crown as being a man above reproach...honest, upright, and thorough in his work! And, for your information, not one of them is concerned about William's father belonging to some artificially designated 'lower class'!" She rolled her eyes at her husband. "Do you really find the idea that William has done physical labor in the past so disgraceful? Do you really think what his father did for a living actually determines what sort of man William is? Is it really his fault that his family was poor? Are you so conscious of some totally artificial 'class' structure that you can't admit how good he is at his job...or what good a man he is?"

Taken aback at having elicited such a vehement response from Julia over his casual observation about the detective, Darcy flinched as he withstood Julia's unexpected tirade. Hoping to pacify her, he finally held up his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry, Darling. It wasn't my intention to disparage your friend. In fact, I was attempting to praise him. And you are correct, of course...he has certainly risen well above his family's circumstances to become quite successful in his chosen field, mostly through his own intelligence and initiative, which is an impressive accomplishment. So, let's not argue any more. Will you please forgive my poor choice of words in regard to Murdoch? I really meant no harm..."

"Yes, of course, I'll forgive you, as long as you promise to show William the proper amount of respect that he's due." Still unhappy at Darcy's obvious bias towards working class men, she sighed quietly as she took a bite of chicken. "So let's change the subject, shall we? How are things at the hospital?"

Pleased with the conversation's turn, Darcy offered a relieved smile. "Things are going very well! The members of the Board of Directors are quite happy with all I've accomplished during my brief tenure there. The hospital's reputation in the community is excellent, and its finances are in wonderful shape, thanks in no small part to my fundraising abilities." He smiled proudly as he sat back in his chair. "If the feedback I'm getting is correct, I expect to receive a nice bonus soon."

"That's wonderful news! I'm very happy for you, Darcy." She cleared her throat slightly. "Perhaps since the board is so pleased with you, you can exert some influence on their decision about opening a new woman's clinic…"

He shrugged dismissively at her suggestion. "I don't know...we'll see. There are still a lot of variables to consider before that clinic happens. I wouldn't want to divert the hospital's resources towards what would most likely be an unprofitable venture." He drained his glass and tossed his napkin on the table before continuing. "Now, if you don't mind, Darling, I need to excuse myself for the evening. I'm meeting Godfrey at the club tonight at 7 o'clock."

Somewhat surprised, Julia smiled at her husband. "Of course I don't mind, Darcy, but why do you need to visit with our accountant? And why not just ask him to come to our home?"

"Well, you know...those sorts of boring meetings go better if they're held while we're enjoying brandy and cigars in a cozy room." Darcy rose from his chair and bent down to kiss Julia. "There are some financial matters we need to go over, but nothing you need to fret about, Darling. Don't wait up...I may be quite late."

"Alright." Her smile faded as she watched him leave the room. "It seems he's hiding things from me.," she murmured to herself. "Which is only fair, I suppose, since I'm hiding things from him as well."

Oooooooooo

An hour later, after starting some music to play on the victrola, Julia nestled into an upholstered chair in her office, staring at the large envelope in her lap. "I need to see what's in here...I need to understand what William wants done...but if I open it, isn't that admitting that the worst will certainly happen?"

Groaning softly, she was frustrated with her own foolishness. "Nonsense. It's merely a set of instructions to be followed...not a death warrant..."

Opening the envelope's flap, she removed and unfolded several sheets of paper. "Hmm...what do we have here…"

The first sheet was a copy of a page from his bank book printed on a handwritten ledger, dated from the previous day. "Well, he's certainly been frugal, hasn't he? I don't know how he's managed to save this much money on his salary…"

The next page was a list of bequests, written in William's precise block script. "Let's see...Jasper is to get William's gold cufflinks and his watch, plus 100 dollars...and there's 200 dollars apiece for his nieces, to be used to further their education. Very generous…"

Humming softly to herself, she continued to read. "Ten dollars to pay any rent he might owe Mrs. Kitchens, plus 50 dollars to tide her over until she finds another boarder to take his rooms. How thoughtful." She nodded as she turned to the next page. "100 dollars for the convent where his sister spent her last days, for some requiem masses in her honor and the rest to go towards the building's operating expenses. Susannah would've appreciated that..."

She nodded as she ran her fingers down the page. "The rest of his belongings are to be sold, and that money, along with any funds remaining in his bank account after the funeral mass and his burial are paid for, is to be split evenly between his church and the Constabulary's Widows and Orphans Fund. So typical of William. He's thought of every last detail."

She gasped softly as she read aloud the final entry on his list. "...'the sole exception to the sale of my remaining belongings is a small silver horse pendant, found in a wooden box in the top drawer of my dresser, which, instead of being sold, is to go to Dr. Julia Ogden, with my best regards. She may do with it what she pleases.' Oh my…"

She brushed away a tear as a wave of pent up emotion rushed through her. "He gave that pendant to his fiancee', Liza, as a gift for her birthday, and I still remember how pleased she was with it. She wore it constantly before she died...and now he wants me to have it…if something happens to him..."

It would be the perfect remembrance. She could wear it whenever she wanted to honor him, without eliciting numerous nosy questions as to its origin, and all the while she alone would understand its true meaning. "How is it possible that William could care so much for me…so much that he wants me to have this item, which holds a great deal of sentimental value for him...even though I've hurt him so badly?"

Of course, she reminded herself sadly, it really made no difference how much William cared for her. She'd chosen to marry another. Still, it was gratifying to know that he was willing to entrust her with such a cherished object.

She sighed softly to herself as she studied the pages of William's will. Hopefully, things wouldn't come to a point where she'd actually receive his last gift. With any luck, the posse would accomplish their task successfully and he'd be back in Toronto, safe and sound, in a week or two.

"I have to trust that William knows what he's doing. He's right...he has the skills and the experience to get the job done quickly, and then he'll be back at Station House 4, where he belongs."

Nodding to herself, she was folding the papers when a small sealed envelope fluttered to the floor. "What's this?"

Bending down to pick it up, her heart flipped as she read the inscription.

To Julia Ogden. To be opened only in the event of my death. William Murdoch

She stared at those words for a few seconds, trying to make sense of them. "What is in there?," she mumbled to herself as she held the envelope up to the lamplight, hoping to see what was written on the folded sheet of paper inside. "It looks like a short note of some sort…but what does it say? I can't make out the words..."

Her curiosity was overwhelming as she examined the envelope for a few minutes. As she came to a realization, she giggled softly. "He knows how much this secret note would annoy me...and he's teasing me!" She could picture his droll smile, complete with a flash of a dimple and a quirk of his eyebrow as he laughed at her frustration. "Well, I'll show him…I'll just have a quick look inside, and he'll never know the difference. I can reseal the envelope if he asks to have his papers returned when he gets back to Toronto..."

She turned the envelope over to slip her finger under the flap, and was surprised to see the inscription printed there in tiny letters. No peeking, Julia, unless I'm actually deceased!

"Really, William!" Shaking her head, she laughed in spite of herself. "You know me too well!"

Even as tears were streaming down her face, she continued to laugh merrily at the joke William had played on her. She shook her finger at the offending note. "William Murdoch! You're hiding something from me, aren't you? You know I can't stand secrets! You're so..." Her voice broke with a sob. "...so...you! Such a brilliant, logical, stubborn, frustrating man!"

She gave full vent to her emotions as she sat weeping in her dimly lit office, wondering once again how she had gotten herself into this situation, being married to a man she admired, respected, and cared for...and at the same time, loving another man... a man who had stolen her heart...a man whom she had deliberately let go because she thought it'd be best for him.

"This is preposterous…." After a few minutes of emotional catharsis, she took out her still damp handkerchief and wiped her teary eyes. "I really must get myself under control. Darcy will be home soon, and I don't want him to see me in such a state. Besides, it's absurd to let any man make me feel so perturbed...especially if I'm not married to him..."

Sighing softly, she put William's papers back into their envelope before rising to lock it away in her desk drawer. Hopefully, it would be many, many years before she had a reason to look at them again.

"I have a busy day tomorrow, and I need to get ready for bed…," she said to herself as she fed her fish. "I hope I can sleep…"

She paused, looking out the office's window at the starlit night sky. "Please be careful, William! I don't want a reason to read that note!"

Oooooooooo

The posse had ridden hard for almost three hours, hoping to get as far as they could their first night out. They'd traveled north, away from Toronto, and there was a noticeable drop in the air temperature. Snow seemed to be a definite possibility over the next few days...not ideal weather for a posse riding out in the elements, but it couldn't be helped. Every man was in agreement: no matter what they faced, be it miserable weather, sleep deprivation, hunger, or saddle sores, they wouldn't rest until the Charbonneau gang was brought to justice.

After taking care of their horses, the men quickly gathered around a small smoky fire, hoping to satisfy their hunger from the travel provisions each had brought with them. William was intrigued as he observed the interactions between the posse's members. A sort of camaraderie was already becoming evident as the men laughed and talked over their scant meal, regaling each other with the ribald humor typical of such a gathering.

Having volunteered to the first watch, William holstered his pistol and picked a lantern before stepping away from the group. He was positioned for sentry duty at the point where a narrow trail joined the camp's perimeter. It was an excellent choice, being the only feasible point of entry into the clearing for anyone attempting some sort of assault.

It was a cloudless night, and he soon found himself contemplating the constellations hovering in the inky sky. "At this time of year, the winter constellations should be almost directly overhead.," he murmured to himself. Let's see...where is Orion?"

However, try as he might to keep himself occupied with the heavenly bodies above him, he couldn't help but remember when he and Julia had gone for a moonlit stroll in Jerseyville several years ago. They'd been there investigating a murder case that supposedly involved Martians, but the setting had been so romantic that night as they sat in that white gazebo...and for a moment, he'd forgotten all about work...before that dirigible showed up, that is. Julia had looked so beautiful, with her hair falling free around her shoulders. Murdoch smiled a bit as he thought of her rosy cheeks and her sparkling eyes...how near she was…the scent of her rosewater perfume...and how he'd been tempted to kiss her. That memory was still so vivid in his mind...it was like it had happened yesterday...

Shaking his head, he chastised himself as he gazed into the darkness. "If only things had been different between us…if only I'd told her about how I felt...but she's married to someone else now, so there's no use in dwelling on the past, is there? I need to concentrate on the future. No more looking back...only going forward from now on..."

He paused as he suddenly heard a twig snap nearby. His pistol at the ready, he put forth a challenge. "Who goes there? Show yourself! Come out with your hands where I can see them!"

A bulky shape loomed out of the shadows. "It's me...Constable Jackson." The large man strode over to where a startled Murdoch stood. "Sorry, Detective...I didn't mean to cause you a scare…"

Lowering his gun, Murdoch puffed out a sigh. "You're fortunate that I didn't shoot you! What are you doing here?"

Jackson wore a bashful grin. "I thought you might want some company, sir. Standing watch in the dark like this can be a little bit unsettling, especially in the wilderness. Who knows what kind of blood thirsty critters might be hanging about?"

"Right." Rolling his eyes, the detective holstered his gun and smiled at Jackson. "But you're correct...I'd like some company. Let's have a seat, shall we?"

The men made themselves comfortable on a nearby fallen log. Whistling softly, Jackson pulled his jacket close. "It's cold out here this evening! I bet we're gonna get a couple of inches of snow before all's said and done..."

"That's to be expected, given the time of year…"

Jackson shrugged at the detective's comment. "I suppose. The weather may be miserable, but at least it's quiet out here...a lot quieter than Toronto."

"It is that.," Murdoch replied, studying his nails. Clearing his throat, he posed a question. "So, um...Jackson...I'm glad you volunteered to be a part of this posse…but I'm curious as to why..."

"The inspector wanted to make sure you had someone you knew with you on the posse...someone he could trust to back you up if need be, Detective. He wants to make sure you get back safely to Toronto, so he asked me to come along...probably because, being a farm boy, I ride a lot better than Crabtree."

Murdoch chuckled softly. "Almost anyone rides better than Crabtree…"

"Very true, sir." Jackson smiled before he cleared his throat softly. "Anyway, I was glad to oblige...I needed a change of scenery…"

"Oh?"

"Yeah…I was hoping that getting out of the city for a while would take my mind off my troubles." Jackson sighed as he gazed into the dark forest surrounding their camp. "As I'm sure you remember, sir, my wife Blanche died a few months ago…"

"Yes...I was sorry to hear about that." Sighing quietly, Murdoch shook his head. "She'd been ill for quite some time, correct?"

"Yes...she had dropsy, whatever that is…" Jackson grimaced slightly before continuing. "Her death wasn't unexpected, but still...there's so much to arrange for a funeral service, and afterwards, I decided to take my little boy, Martin, to live with my parents in Peterborough, so my mother can care for him, and I miss him tremendously. Then I had to clear Blanche's things from our house and pay all the bills for the doctors and the funeral...and then I had to get used to the fact that she wasn't going to be there in the evenings, when I got home from work...and I've been so lonely. The loneliness combined with taking care of all of those little details has made me so sad...it's like I've been walking around under a big, dark cloud that I can't shake, but I have to push through...I have to keep working. I've been determined not to let my sorrow get the best of me." He chewed his lip for a few seconds. "I thought I was doing better, too, since the sharp pain I once felt as I thought of Blanche is now more of a dull throbbing ache, but then I heard the fellas talkin' about their sweethearts a few minutes ago, and it struck me that I didn't have anything to add...because my sweetheart's gone...for good."

Groaning softly, Murdoch nodded as he picked at the log's dry bark. "I understand completely, Gus."

"I know you do, sir." Jackson paused briefly before continuing. "You know, it's been so hard dealing with everything after her death that I've thought about leaving the Constabulary altogether. My father could use a hand with the farm, and I thought maybe if I left Toronto, I wouldn't be reminded of my dear late wife so much, but…" Jackson sighed, running his hand down his face. "...but I remember everything about Blanche when I'm visiting out there in Peterborough, too. That's where we met, you know? So it's like she's a part of me wherever I go. It seems I can't run away from her memory...not that I really want to, I suppose. We were married for almost ten years, so I have a lot of good memories, too. Maybe eventually, that's what I'll think about when I remember her, instead of the pain." He tapped his chest. "Because I loved her so much, she's always here, in my heart, no matter where I am or what I do, so I guess I might as well stay put in Toronto. At least if I'm a constable, I can stay busy, and I'll have some money to send to my parents for Martin's care."

"I realize your father might need some assistance with the farm, but the Constabulary needs stout-hearted men like you as well, Jackson. You'd be sorely missed, should you decide to leave us. I hope you can work it out so you can stay on." Worried that some unpleasant emotions of his own were beginning to surface, Murdoch stood up and stretched a bit. "I think I'm going to walk the camp's perimeter. Since that path leads into the clearing behind us, I'd like you to stay here to make sure we don't have any unwelcome visitors. I'll only be gone a few minutes."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Jackson nodded. "You can count on me, sir."

"Excellent." Picking up the lantern, Murdoch disappeared into the darkness, muttering softly to himself as he walked along the rim of the campsite. "Is that what I have to look forward to, now that I'm determined to move on from my relationship with Julia? Am I carrying the pain around, like Jackson is? Am I bound to have her memory live on in heart forever, even if I move to Winnipeg? How will I ever be free to love another?"

Grunting in frustration, he paused along the trail to run a hand over his face. William knew all too well what Jackson had been experiencing in the loss of his wife, having experienced a similar agony over his failed relationship with Julia. "At least Julia's still living...but that fact doesn't seem to lessen how I feel…"

Thinking things over, his expression was grim. "I suppose there's only one way to discover the answers to those questions. I'll complete my work here and then I'll remove myself from the source of my pain. That's the only way to forget her, isn't it? To get away from it?"

Nodding in determination, he continued his walk around the campsite's perimeter. "Winnipeg...here I come."

A/N: the next chapter will be posted in a few days. If you have time to leave a review, I'd appreciate it. Laura