A/N: Please forgive the lateness of this chapter. I try to get at least one a week, but real life sometimes interferes with my fanfiction, unfortunately. I appreciate everyone who continues to read and review, as well as those new to the party. Thank you! And please note that the last part of this chapter ventures into M-rated territory, though nothing too explicit. Enjoy.
Chapter 5: Moses and William
"Eliza, get me my gun by my bed," ordered Inspector Wellington, still shielding her from any possible danger from the doorway.
Of course, Miss Scarlet had to argue. "Didn't you hear him? He's turning himself in. You don't need your gun."
"Oh, of course. Let's just invite a murder suspect in," he said sarcastically over his shoulder. "Eliza, please get me my weapon."
"There's no need for sarcasm, William. I'm certain all of this is some sort of misunderstanding, one that Moses will no doubt fully explain." Behind him, Eliza walked over to the bed.
Moses looked at the pair of them, Inspector Wellington naked from the waist up, Eliza, barefoot, her hair loose and flowing, in her night rail with her familiar blue coat thrown over it. He grinned. Oddly, he found he'd missed the querulous pair, and found himself pleased that the two of them were finally acting on the flirtation he'd witnessed himself the entire time he'd known them.
"If the two of you would like to get back to what you were doing, I could surrender another time…"
Wellington ignored him, staying where he was until Eliza put his gun in his hand and he'd pointed it at Moses's chest. "Now, give me your weapons, including the one you took off Bernard's body…slowly now."
Moses moved his hand inside his coat, glancing wryly at Wellington to make sure he didn't shoot him. The inspector trained his gun at his heart and waited tensely until Moses had withdrawn two pistols, which Wellington handed one by one to Eliza.
"I had a knife," Moses said, "but the police were kind enough to keep that for me." The man had no sense of humor, which only made Moses's smile widen.
"Put those on the bureau, if you please, Eliza, and get my handcuffs from the top drawer."
"Is that strictly necessary?"
"It is. Now if you want to be helpful, you'll put those on him for me."
She complied, though Moses heard her mumbling rebelliously beneath her breath. He held out his hands, breathing in her lovely scent.
"I apologize," she said.
"Not the first time you've put the cuffs on me."
Eliza smiled. "I promise not to set the room on fire."
They both chuckled, and Wellington frowned. "Eliza, go back to your room. I'll let you know when I return from the police station."
"Can we at least find out his story first before you cart him off to jail? There could be extenuating circumstances to consider…"
Moses stood patiently, enjoying the show, and also the feeling of security in the presence of friends (of a sort) that he hadn't felt in months.
"The man shows up at my door to confess to a murder. If you hadn't thought him dangerous before, this certainly confirms all that I've been saying about him for years."
"That may be, but as his friend, I'm not leaving until I hear what he has to say for himself." She gifted Moses with one of her dimpled smiles.
Wellington sighed heavily. Miss Scarlet had made him a complete clown for her, and Moses found himself unusually humbled that she would defend him to her lover.
"Come in," said a resigned Wellington, stepping back now from the door so Moses could enter. "And don't make any false moves."
"I wouldn't think of it."
With a twitch of his gun, the inspector indicated Moses should sit in the one chair in the room. Eliza perched on the bed, fully engaged and ready for the conversation to come.
"Now," began the inspector, "what happened with Bernard?"
Moses hesitated. He hadn't thought that he would have to reveal his personal history, but if he were to get out of this alive, he supposed he had not choice. "I don't know where to start. This all began many years ago."
"In Jamaica?" Eliza prompted gently. "You should start from there, I imagine."
When Wellington didn't seem surprised at Eliza's knowledge of Moses's past, Moses felt his heart sink a little. It must have shown on his face, for Eliza looked suddenly very guilty.
"I'm sorry, Moses," she said. "I was trying to offer an explanation for your actions, if you were the one who killed Bernard. I would never have broken your confidence otherwise."
"Don't worry, Miss Scarlet. We all have our crosses."
"Go on then," said Wellington, annoyed as usual by the strange connection between his lady and the Jamaican.
Moses's heart skipped a beat, and he took a shaky breath, mentally preparing himself to tell a tale he'd not told another soul in twenty years.
"My full name is Moses Valentine. Many years ago, in Kingston, Jamaica, there was…a woman."
Miss Scarlet's eyes widened. She hadn't expected that, Moses thought wryly.
"Her name was Mary Spencer. Her father was one of the first native Jamaicans to own a coffee plantation—they became very wealthy. I was not. But her brother, Clive and I were best mates from the parish free school. He found me with his sister, and gave me a beating—I let him. In his mind, I had defiled his sister, betrayed him. I understood and took my beating. But we were no longer mates, and even though I tried to stay away from Mary, I couldn't. When she became with child, I went to her father to ask to marry her, but I didn't make it past the front door. Mary and I planned to run away together. She hid her secret for months, while I saved my money doing whatever I had to to earn our passage to Barbados. Two months before her time, something went wrong. Mary and the babe died at home with her family."
From her place on the bed, Eliza gasped, but Moses forced himself to finish the story, his voice a monotone, as if he were telling of someone else's life. He could not have gotten through the telling otherwise.
"Her brother found me and told me the news right before he pulled a knife to kill me. This time, I didn't lay down and take it. I blamed him and his family for their deaths, thinking that if they'd let us marry, she might have told them she was having trouble. Maybe a doctor could have saved them both…I didn't mean to kill Clive, but that's what happened, and I fled on the first ship out."
"And Mary's father put a price on your head, I assume," said Miss Scarlet.
Moses nodded. "I spent some time in Cuba, then Florida, then New Orleans, and even here in New York for a time, among other places. I didn't stay anywhere for long. I was responsible for the deaths of Mr. Spencer's only children, and I knew he would not stop until I was dead."
"And what were you doing all that time?" asked Wellington.
"I'll spare you those details," Moses said. "They aren't relevant to the story."
Wellington gave a disdainful snort at that, but undaunted, Moses went on. "Finally, I landed in London, where I stayed three years too long. Spencer had caught up with me, thanks to that idiot Inspector Hudson, and as you know, I took Nash's offer to go to Paris. I should have known Spencer would track me there. When word got out there was a bounty on me, Bernard didn't hesitate to turn on me for the money. With Nash in jail in London, everything was falling apart in Paris. Bernard didn't care about my agreement with Nash. Coincidentally, the next ship out of Paris was heading to New York. I was on it. Bernard followed me. But in my defense, Nash only hires the best." His grin felt like a release of all the tension of the past.
"So what were you doing in my boarding house?" asked Wellington.
"Nash had mentioned you were in New York. I thought you might—you were the only one I knew here. Out of respect for Miss Scarlet, I thought you might help me. You're a fair man, for a copper."
"I suppose I can guess the rest," said Wellington. "Bernard followed you here, you scuffled in the hallway, he pulled his gun and you stabbed him. Unless, you were the one who attacked him first…"
"You have the right of it with your first guess, Inspector. I was only defendin' myself, I swear it."
"Just like with Clive," Miss Scarlet added sympathetically, and Moses nodded.
Wellington, however, was not convinced. "This all seems very convenient for you. All we have is your word, on all of this."
"Tell me, Inspector, if this weren't the truth, why would I come back and turn myself in? I'm tired of running. It's been twenty years. Twenty years since I've seen my muma. She might be dead by now. I haven't dared write to her, fearin' my crimes would come back on her. She was already disgraced by what happened with Mary. I'd wager Spencer has been watching her all this time."
"I believe him, William," said Miss Scarlet, rising from the bed. "Instead of arresting him, can't we help him?"
"You mean let him get away with killing someone outside our doors?"
"That's not why I came back," interrupted Moses. "I fear for my life now; even I can't escape if everyone from Nash and Sons is out looking for me. I came to you, Inspector, hoping that if someone speaks up for me, I'll get some protection, and the judge will go easy."
"You want me to give you a character, you mean?" William laughed without humor and went to his bureau to pour himself some whiskey. He didn't offer any to his guests. "You've killed a French citizen on American soil. The Americans are about to receive a giant statue from the French, honoring their good relationship, for God's sake, and you want to cause an international incident?"
"It's not like Bernard is that important, in the grand scheme of things," said Miss Scarlet. At Wellington's suddenly blank face, the lady frowned. "I know that look. What aren't you telling me, William?"
His face looked pained. "Bernard was carrying a document, signed by the French prime minister himself, sanctioning Bernard's trip, painting Moses here as an international criminal."
"What? Why didn't you tell me?"
"This is a police investigation, Eliza. I wasn't at liberty to share it with you—I shouldn't, even now-but your friend here is asking for my help, and I want you both to have a full sense of what's at stake here."
"But William—"
"I'll not have you getting any ideas about helping him escape, do you hear? I've already broken the law by not immediately arresting him and taking him to the police. This isn't England; we're guests in this country. If you try anything, we'd be the ones to end up in prison, all of us."
Hands on her hips, Eliza looked from Moses to Wellington and back again, saying to the Jamaican: "Don't you wish you'd chucked it all and headed for California?"
There was a knock at the door, and Wellington, gun drawn, went over to answer it. "Who's there?" he demanded in his most threatening tone.
"It's your landlady. Open the door please, Inspector. I need to have a word."
Wellington dropped his head to his chest in defeat, knowing what was coming. Resigned, he opened the door.
Mrs. Harrison took in Wellington's and Miss Scarlet's state of dishabille, along with an unfamiliar Jamaican sitting in a chair in handcuffs. She blushed to her hair, her mouth opening and closing like a kingfish on land, thought Moses in amusement. He'd bet his hat she'd never been so scandalized.
"Inspector, I—I—" She abruptly shut her mouth, her lips forming a disapproving line. "I want you out of here tomorrow. The three of you."
"Mrs. Harrison, this isn't what you think. Please let me apolo—"
But the door slammed in his face and he turned to the others with an expression filled with long suffering vexation.
"Dammit to hell," he swore.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Sometime later, Eliza was asleep against William's arm in the hired hack taking them back to Harrison House. It was very late, around three in the morning. Moses Valentine was in a holding cell, arrested for the murder of Jules Bernard, and O'Leary was none too pleased that an accused murderer had a connection to his foreign guest investigator. After Moses's official statement had been taken, it was William's partner, Conners, who suggested the link between the French Prime Minister and Jamaica: France had had a long association with the Jamaican coffee trade. It was Eliza who made the suggestion that the French were being pressured by the Spencer family to track down and possibly even kill Moses for Spencer's personal satisfaction.
"If this is true," she ventured, "that would clearly support Moses's claim of self-defense."
"I'm certain his attorney will consider that defense," said O'Leary icily. "The man says he has money enough to hire his own."
William looked down at Eliza and smiled now, remembering her passionate defense of her ne'er-do-well friend. As much as her continued support of the shady character still infuriated him, he grudgingly admired her loyalty. It was her passion about everything she felt strongly about that had intrigued him about her from the beginning. The fact that he had been on the receiving end of another aspect of her passion had him shifting in his seat, recalling her hands on his chest earlier, his hands beneath her coat. The night, as with any night spent in Eliza Scarlet's company, had not gone at all as planned.
The hack abruptly stopped in front of Harrison House, and William silently lamented that, if he could not charm his way back into Mrs. Harrison's good graces, it would be his last night there, and he would have to find another place for both himself and Eliza.
"Eliza," he said, nudging her awake.
"Hmm?" she said faintly, after he jostled her a second time.
He lifted her chin from his arm and bowed to gently kiss her lips. "Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. We're home."
She sat up then, embarrassed, but still groggy.
He paid the driver and helped her down, leading her by the hand toward the back staircase. Because he often kept late hours due to his job, Mrs. Harrison had kindly provided him with a key to the back door, allowing him to come and go at all hours without troubling her to unlock the front door after the midnight curfew her other tenants must follow. He retrieved the key from his coat pocket and the pair trudged heavily up to their floor. Eliza said little, only clutching her bag and yawning into her other hand, dead on her feet.
He stopped with her at her door, intending to leave her with a kiss goodnight and find his way to the oblivion of his own bed. She opened her bag and began to search its interior for her key, but seemed to have some trouble finding it. Given the hour, they spoke in hushed whispers.
"Damn," she said in tired frustration. "Where the bloody hell is my key?"
William's mouth quirked at her unladylike language. "Here, let me."
She handed him her repurposed leather doctor's bag, and she leaned against the door, eyes closed, as he began to rummage through the weighty, heretofore mysterious vessel. Inside he found her gun, her lock-picking kit, a small metal file, scissors, gloves, a suspicious vial, a comb, a small mirror, a coin purse, a little notebook and pencil. He held up a metal ring of keys, some of them suspiciously familiar, beyond the pair she would need to get into her office and her house. Unfortunately, none of them were keys used at Harrison House. He dropped them back into the bag, feeling around to find a man's (?) handkerchief and a scattering of hair pins, matches, and business cards at the silk-lined bottom—all told, a bizarre mix of the feminine and the detective. Not exactly the Pandora's Box he'd imagined, but fascinating just the same.
"Is it in your coat?" he asked, feeling rather impatient himself now. He suppressed his own yawn as she patted her pockets in her coat and skirt. "You had it when you locked your door earlier."
She turned her empty coat pockets out, noting in surprise the small hole in the seam. "Mystery solved," she announced.
William looked heavenward.
She shrugged. "I suppose we'll have to ask Mrs. Harrison to let me in."
"Oh no," he said. "I'm not awakening the Kraken at his hour, especially after she's already decided to give us the boot. No, you'll have to bunk with me tonight."
"What?" She was wide-awake now.
He took her arm and they walked toward his room. "I'm too knackered to take advantage of you, Eliza. I promise that tonight, at least, I'll be a perfect gentleman."
"There's only one bed in your room, William, and I have no nightclothes…"
"That is a conundrum," he suggested, but Eliza had no reply to his dangerous teasing. Despite their earlier liberties, she seemed quite reluctant to pick up where they'd left off, and William found himself enjoying his unusual upper hand. She was downright flustered, a delicious rarity for Eliza Scarlet.
William unlocked his door and preceded her inside so he could light the lamps. Eliza looked lost in the middle of his room, where, just hours before, she'd made herself comfortable sitting on his bed.
"I'll use the washroom down the hall, and you can have the room to undress. There should be fresh water in the pitcher. Will fifteen minutes do?"
"Uh…yes, I suppose…"
"Good. I'll be back then." He kissed her on the forehead and left her alone.
Fifteen minutes later, William returned to his room to find Eliza already in bed, the covers up to her chin, fast asleep. He extinguished the lamps and undressed to only his drawers, climbing into bed to lie beside her. She didn't stir, her breathing deep and regular. His bed was much larger than hers, thankfully, requested specifically by him as a brawny man, and he was glad now that they would both be comfortable. Well, in theory.
Her scent teased him, tempted him, tightened his groin. He was familiar enough with women's undergarments to know she was likely wearing only her shift. It was probably a fine, soft cotton or linen, perhaps trimmed in lace. Most likely if she stood before a light, he could see right through it. He knew how her nightgown had felt, knew just by that quick caress that her breasts would fit perfectly in his hands, that her hips were sweetly curved without benefit of a bustle. He closed his eyes and just stopped himself from turning and awakening her. Fortunately for them both, his own exhaustion overtook him, and William soon drifted off into dreamless sleep.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
There were few things more wonderful than awakening to the feel of a woman's lips on yours, thought William dazedly, on the razor's edge of sleep. Sunlight seeped beneath his closed eyelids, the morning sounds of the city drowned out by his heart thumping to life in his ears. She moved against his mouth shyly, tentatively, drawing him slowly to wakefulness. He lay there passively at first, letting her explore and experiment with angles and fit and pressure, her inexperience hardening his body, emptying his mind. When one small hand brushed against his bearded cheek, her tongue swiping against his bottom lip, he opened to her without hesitation. Her indrawn breath fueled his desire, and, in one smooth motion, he rolled her to her back, his sleep warm body covering hers as he took control of the kiss.
Instinctively, she rose up against him, seeking more, and he moaned at the heaven of her body cradling his. His mouth traveled to her neck, kissing his way down to the swell of her breasts above well-worn cotton. The sensation of his beard brushing her skin made her shiver, and he smiled before his mouth found one pert nipple, lightly suckling it through her shift.
"William," she breathed, her hands in his hair, holding him as he playfully nipped, then moved to her other breast. She wriggled at the sweet torture, unaware of how much she was testing his tenuous control. Trembling with the effort, he forced himself to abandon her breasts and return to her lips, his kisses deep and desperate with a longing he was determined not to fulfill. It would be so easy to take what she was offering, but they were not in a place where the possible consequences would be welcomed by either of them. And so he raised his head to look at her in the dappled light from the window, her cheeks flushed with passion, her lips swollen, her breasts rising and falling rapidly against his bare chest. It was a painful kind of pleasure to see her this way, on the cusp of what he knew would be ecstasy.
"Open your eyes, Temptress," he ordered, his voice low and hoarse with sleep and desire. He picked up her flaxen braid and lightly tickled her nose with it.
If he lived a thousand years, he would never forget the sight of Eliza's beautiful blue eyes, opening to his with awakened sensuality, crystalline in the light of the morning sun, and he very nearly gave in and took her, consequences be damned. Her hand played absently with the curls he tried so hard to tame, wrapping them around her fingers, an obvious metaphor for what Eliza Scarlet had always done to him.
"So tempting that you stopped," she said. She wasn't pouting though; just making an observation, as if she were analyzing a crime scene.
"You know why. There are things that are still…unsettled between us. This would only complicate matters further."
She smiled. "This is why God gave you the cooler head, I suppose. If you hadn't noticed, I tend to get myself into rather dangerous predicaments."
"To which I frequently come to your rescue."
"I believe I've come to your aid on more than one occasion," she countered.
He shook his head. "Why am I surprised to find you arguing with me, even in my bed."
He allowed himself the brief pleasure of kissing her once more to silence, before he reluctantly moved off of her and onto his back. He stared sightlessly at the ceiling, fighting once more to tamp down his baser instincts. She seemed to have overcome much of her shyness from the night before, and she curled against his side, resting her head upon his chest. He wondered if she could hear the embarrassing pounding of his heart.
"Whatever happens though, William," she ventured philosophically, "I believe we will find no problems relating on this matter."
He chuckled. "You mean we'll have no trouble with the hochmagandy, aye?"
"Yes, if you want to be vulgar."
He caressed her shoulder, drawing her closer, breathing her in. "Trust me love, when the time is right, there will be nothing vulgar about it."
The pounding on the door prevented anymore exploration of that topic.
"Inspector Wellington! Since there was no answer at your cousin's door, I'll remind you both that you're to be out of my house by the end of the day."
William quickly disentangled himself from Eliza's arms and rose from the bed to speak through the door. "Mrs. Harrison, please let me explain. Miss Scarlet is a private detective, working with me and the New York police department to discover who murdered the man in your house. I was in the process of arresting the suspect you saw in my room yesterday."
"Hmph. And where is Miss Scarlet now?" William glanced with a wink to Eliza, who was sitting up against the headboard now, watching him with a combination of amusement and rapt appreciation of the fit of his drawers.
"I don't know. We were working late last night. She's an early riser, so she must have gotten a start on me this morning to continue the investigation on her own—it would be just like my cousin to do that." He'd infused enough of his usual annoyance that Eliza almost believed him herself. "I'm sorry I broke your rules about feminine visitors, but it was an urgent situation, one that is unlikely to occur again. I pray you find it in your heart to overlook it this once."
It was so quiet on the other side of the door that William thought perhaps the landlady had left in a huff, but a moment later, she spoke again, her voice resigned but firm. "I'm a Christian woman, Inspector, and you've given me no cause up until yesterday to doubt you. I'll forgive you, but mind you remember my rules and follow them, and pass on my warning to Miss Scarlet when you see her. I must think of the reputation of my business and the tenants under my roof."
"I certainly understand, and I thank you, Mrs. Harrison. I promise you won't have occasion to doubt me again. And I will have a serious talk with my cousin the instant I see her again."
He heard the faint jingling of the keyring Mrs. Harrison wore hooked at her waist, and suddenly, a familiar numbered key slid under the door. William picked it up, his eyes shining at Eliza's.
"If you'll return this to Miss Scarlet—I found it on the back stairs. She'll need it to get back into her room."
Eliza covered her mouth to keep from laughing aloud.
"Good day, Inspector Wellington."
"Good day, Mrs. Harrison." William pressed his ear against the door until he could no longer hear the tapping of her brogans, then walked back to the bed and climbed in again.
"Do you think she really knows I'm here?" Eliza asked, as he gathered her into his arms. "It's almost as if the spirit of Ivy followed me from England."
"Mrs. Harrison is not one to suffer fools any more than Ivy. I'd wager she knows full well you're here in my bed, and that you're certainly not my cousin. We've been put on notice though, and we'll have to be very careful unless we want to end up on our arses out in the street."
"She certainly seemed more concerned with our comings and goings than the murder investigation under her nose," Eliza mused. She laughed softly. "I suspect Mrs. Harrison has a tendre for her star boarder." She leaned up to look into his eyes. "We have much more in common than I initially suspected," she said, and kissed him.
And for a little while at least, William once again enjoyed a small taste of temptation...
A/N: Yes, I know, I'm guilty of using ye olde "they have to stay in the same room together in one bed" trope, lol. But if you're anything like me, you wouldn't mind seeing this on the show at all, trope or not, and what is fanfiction but embracing the tropes?" Anyway, I'll pick up with the mystery in my next installment.
A couple of other notes, while I'm at it. In my other MSATD fics, I tried valiantly to capture Moses's Jamaican accent, and to some extent, William's Scottish one. But I don't want them to sound too cartoonish, so I've scaled back on that, maybe inserting a bit of slang here and there to remind us of both fabulous accents. Just use your imagination, as I do.
Also, special thanks to LaFantomette on X (Twitter) for some of Eliza's purse contents suggestions, especially the keys! Brilliant! (Oh, and please follow me there as Donnamour1969)