After escorting George back to his cell (hopefully tomorrow they could convince the Crown Prosecutor to drop all charges), Julia and William rode back to the hotel in strained silence. Julia was undoubtedly upset at him, and he was dreading the coming confrontation.
Once they were upstairs, and coats had been removed and drinks poured (port for Julia, sparkling mineral water for William), they got comfortable on the couch, and the conversation began in earnest.
Taking a sip, William motioned for Julia to begin, as she was the one who wanted the whole truth-for better or for worse this time.
"Back at the station, when you were speaking to George…" she fumbled. "It seemed that you were speaking from experience, that you understood exactly what George was trying to accomplish because you had experienced it yourself. What haven't you told me, William?"
Wincing, William exhaled deeply. "Darcy may not have harmed you physically, but as I told you then, he was doing you wrong. Did he ever harm you physically?"
"No, William, he didn't. Wrong how? When you hit him, what did he do, or say?" She wasn't going to let him off so easily.
Making another face, William took another sip, wishing that it contained something stronger for once. Julia was not going to like what she was about to hear.
"He was with another woman, coming out of a hotel room with her, walking around town with her. When I confronted him about it, he called you a whore and announced his intention to string you along, to keep you as his wife while he had no intention of being an honorable, loving husband to you. I couldn't accept that, Julia. I never interfered before because I thought you loved him, that he loved you just as much or even more and was going to treat you well. When it was obvious you weren't happy, that he was mistreating you emotionally, it infuriated me, Julia. You were then and are now the loveliest person in the world to me, and I couldn't bear to see someone selfishly lay claim to you like a piece of property when you were anything but. I've never viewed you as a piece of chattel to submit to me or any other man, and I hated to see him have that expectation of you, if you must know," he finished.
"I knew about the other woman, William. He was jealous, and that was his way of rubbing it in; it was a response to the two of us going around town, kissing, holding hands, and openly being together. And all he did was call me a whore? I've been called worse, you know?" she replied, stroking his temple.
He turned into her touch and kissed her palm, holding eye contact with her.
"Oh William, you are so sweet and such a gentleman to defend my honor as you did, but I must admit, Darcy wasn't completely in the wrong. I should never have married him in the first place, he was a good man, and I cared for him, but he could never hold a candle to you. Indirectly, my actions caused his behavior, and that is my fault. I cut off my nose to spite my face as it were, and it ended up hurting all three of us."
"Perhaps, Julia, but if I'd been a better man and been more proactive, I could have stopped a lot of this from happening as well. But there's no point in beating ourselves up over past mistakes, I say we learn from them and move on; striving not to repeat them again," he finished.
"I agree, William. Now, enough about Darcy; tell me how you got the film that secured my release. Knowing James Gillies I know he didn't just hand it to you. What sacrifice did you have to make for it?" she asked.
Setting his drink down, Murdoch took hers and set it down as well, pulling her onto his lap. He needed as much contact as he could get for this next part, and relayed the game he'd played with James Gillies, as well as the deal he'd made with the deranged psychopath. He'd escaped death by mere seconds.
Once he'd finished the tale, Julia sat still for a moment before flying off his lap and storming over to the window, where she looked out at the city below.
William gave her all the space she needed. He knew she wouldn't have liked what she had just heard, which is why he'd never wanted to tell her in the first place.
After a few minutes of silence, she grabbed a pillow off of a chair and threw it at him. "I can't believe you were so selfish, William. How the hell could you have done that to me? Did you stop to think for even a moment that I wouldn't have wanted to live with that guilt? That you secured my freedom in exchange for your life? Really, William! Did you ever stop to think about what I wanted? No doubt your escapade influenced George, and by the grace of a tenacious detective he too escaped certain death. Did either of you consider that your manly bravado would have cost first myself, and then Edna dearly?" she spat.
"Well, Julia, if the tables were turned, what would you or Edna have done? Would you have also gallantly offered yourselves up for sacrifice as we did, or would you have allowed us to die, knowing you could have done something about it?" William retorted.
Julia deflated and turned back towards the window.
Standing up himself, William managed to defend his choice. "George and I were forced to make a decision with options that were less than desirable. Our choices were not great, but in the end, we both chose the lesser of two evils, Julia. If I had to do it again, I would, and I think George would as well. If you had to choose, I suspect that you would have made the same decision. I stand by my choice, Julia."
With that, William walked towards the bedroom where he removed his jacket, tossing it over a chair. Popping his collar studs and removing his cufflinks, he had just removed his tie when he was tackled from behind and pushed onto the bed, where Julia ordered him to lay on his back and place his hands above his head. He complied.
Grabbing the tie from him, she proceeded to tie his hands to the headboard (something she hadn't done since their honeymoon) and proceeded to have her way with him-something William happily submitted to.
"You're a stubborn ass, William Murdoch."
"As are you, Mrs. Murdoch. Mind you, I'm not complaining."
Snorting, she leaned in for a passionate kiss and that was the end of coherent speech for the remainder of the evening.
The next morning, she awoke to her husband pulling her into his arms along with a gentle kiss. They both enjoyed waking up with the other present and demonstrated as such to one another.
Later that same morning at the station, the Crown Prosecutor arrived and even though the evidence proving that George's fabricated evidence was tenuous and not entirely sanctioned by the court, he agreed that it would most likely cause considerable doubt amongst the judge and jury. Therefore, he agreed to drop the murder charge against George, but still insisted upon a lesser charge of conspiracy to commit fraud for misleading the Crown in their murder investigation.
It wasn't the full acquittal that the men of Station House 4 wanted, but William had to admit that it wasn't unfair, especially considering what George had done. On the upside, on account of his exemplary service record to the Constabulary, his high standing in the community, and no doubt to his rank and involvement in the Masonic Lodge, George was granted bail on his own recognizance. Upon his release, Edna and Simon were waiting for him, and George took them back home to get them resettled and clean up their apartment. He was on administrative leave pending the investigation and trial.
That night after the place had been straightened up, and Simon sent to bed, Edna got angry with George and told him off for pulling the stunt that landed him into the mess he was in, for sacrificing himself for her without her knowledge. At one point, she picked up a pillow and may have hit him with it, but George wasn't angry-he was just happy to see some of the spirit and spark of the old Edna Garrison return. Upon seeing the grin on his face once she put the pillow down, she laughed and he quickly joined in. Soon however, the laughter turned to tears, and she threw herself into his arms, crying. At this point, George promised her that his proposal still stood, whenever she was ready to act upon it, assuming that she still did.
Taking his hand, she led him into the bedroom, wherein she quietly showed him the pleasures he could look forward to on a regular basis once they were married.
While William was relieved that he had cleared George's name, and that his friend was no longer accused of premeditated murder, he was still on the hook for finding out who did kill Sgt. Archibald Brooks. In the daylight, he went to the aforementioned spot behind MacGuire's Tavern, and either the murder evidence was long gone or this wasn't the actual murder scene either, as William saw only blood from what he assumed was Archibald Brooks' body. No ballistic or trace evidence was to be found. He was searching for the proverbial needle in a haystack, and groaned when he realized what he was up against. How did one find the murderer of a man that everyone already thought of as dead? The only insight Edna Brooks could offer was that he drank at MacGuire's Tavern frequently, and that he had returned from the war a considerably different man than he had left. She hadn't had much contact with him after his return, and what little there had been was generally not of a pleasant nature.
Though he didn't feel like overexerting himself to catch the killer of a man who had beat both his wife and child, duty demanded he try to the best of his ability; that his murderer be brought to justice. Still, William didn't think this was a random act, he suspected that Sgt. Brooks' death was connected to his long disappearance, that it was too much of a coincidence. Like any good detective, William didn't believe in coincidences, and suspected something would turn up sooner or later. Thus, Brackenreid continued to press his contacts in the Army for any detail, no matter how minor, and William poured over the man's service records, searching for the one seemingly insignificant detail that would prove to be the insight he needed.
But, he wasn't prepared for who he would cross paths with next or how they chose to get his attention.
One week later, Julia had just finished up some long neglected files at the asylum and was waiting for a cab to take her back to the hotel for dinner. Without much thought, she got into the carriage and closed her eyes, decompressing from her long day.
After a while however, she realized that the ride was taking considerably longer than it should have and she looked out the window to see they were well outside the city. Banging on the roof, she demanded that they stop and turn around, but the carriage only sped up in response. After a wild and frenzied ride, the carriage came to a stop in a clearing, and Julia was truly afraid. Seizing her opportunity, Julia flung open the door, but before she could alight, an unknown man got inside the carriage, and they began moving again.
"Who are you and where are you taking me," Julia demanded.
"All in due course, Mrs. Murdoch. Or do you still go by Dr. Ogden?" the man laughed, taking a puff of his cigar.
"Again, I ask, who are you? I demand an answer, and I demand you take me home at once. My husband is with the Constabulary and won't wait long before sending out a search party. He's expecting me, and my absence will be immediately noted," she warned, arms crossed over chest, hoping it wasn't obvious how frightened she was.
"Well now, my dear Mrs. Murdoch. You really are quite the pistol, aren't you? Your husband looking for you is exactly what I hope will happen, if you must know. I've been trying to reach him for a few days now, and he won't accept nor return my calls. I figured borrowing you would be a sure fire way to get his attention and to get him to speak with me," the man explained, taking another draw on his cigar.
Julia recoiled at the man's words, and shrunk back into the corner of the carriage, trying to get as far away from the man as possible. Still, she noted, there was something familiar about the man who sat across from her.