“Detective Graham, I resent your implication. I—”
“Constable, see that Miss Bremerton gets home safely.” Jonathan motioned to Merryweather, who took the lantern from the lady and moved to assist her. He felt no guilt ignoring her protests. He turned and strode away without even waiting for an acknowledgment. He could hear Miss Bremerton arguing behind him, but he was not worried. Merryweather would see his assignment completed. The woman would be sent away whether she wished to be or not.
Jonathan stopped in the light of a gas lamp outside the Porky Pie and checked the time, unconsciously rubbing the uneven edges of the fob hanging from his pocket watch chain as he considered the case. He had no real leads aside from an expensive dress and ill-fitting bustle. He doubted Hutchings would gather much from interviews. People tended to their own business in this part of the city. Perhaps the doctor would discover more, or perhaps the ring might reveal something upon closer examination.
When Sergeant Lester joined him, the two started back toward H Division.
With so many factors unknown, two things he was certain of: a young lady belonged nowhere near a murder investigation, and Miss Sophie Bremerton belonged nowhere near him.
Chapter 2
Sophie thanked her driver, Jasper, as he helped her from the carriage on Park Lane. When she stepped inside the house, a maid took her gloves and hat. A wave of fatigue moved over her as she climbed the stairs, but instead of continuing on to her bedchamber for a nap, she followed the upstairs passageway toward the first-floor sitting room, where Mimi, her grandmother, would be at her writing table.
After returning from Spitalfields the night before, Sophie had stayed up into the early hours of the morning, sketching images of the murder scene and making notes when she should have been finishing the illustration she’d promised to deliver to the newspaper editor by tomorrow morning. Then, after only a few hours of sleep, she’d left early for Bond Street to call on various dressmakers in hopes of discovering who had made—and purchased—the gown the dead woman had worn. But lack of sleep was not the full cause of her exhaustion. Sophie couldn’t avoid her mother forever, and anticipating the inevitable confrontation left her weary.
Last night Sophie had missed the Hamptons’ ball—her third conspicuous absence from an event this week as she’d gone in search of a story. Her mother, Lady Mather, took personal offense to unconventionality of any kind. As it was, a daughter working for the newspaper was nearly more than the countess could endure.
But, in truth, pleasing her mother was not something Sophie imagined she’d ever be capable of. Not when she’d been presented four Seasons earlier and still remained unmarried—a failure of the highest degree in her mother’s eyes, and one Lady Mather did not neglect to remind her daughter of on a daily basis.
When Sophie entered the drawing room, the dowager countess set aside her fountain pen, stood from her desk, and smiled. “Good morning, dearest.”
From the floor beside the window, Dorrit, Mimi’s beloved pug, jumped up and barked.
Warmth relaxed the tension inside Sophie as she took her grandmother’s outstretched hands and allowed her to kiss both cheeks. “Good morning, Mimi.”
In spite of her age, Sophie’s grandmother was extremely active, both socially and physically. She was a member of various societies, a champion of causes, and a chairwoman of fundraisers. She also served on school and hospital boards and participated in a ladies’ badminton league.
Her grandmother picked up the dog’s leash from the desk. “Dorrit and I are just headed to the dining room, my dear. Have you eaten?”
“I had some toast earlier.”
“Well, that is hardly enough to sustain you. The hour is nearly noon.” Mimi shook her head, making her gray curls bounce around her face. “Come along.”
“I’d love to.”
“Time to eat, Dorrit.” Mimi spoke in a cooing voice, then gave a whistle.
The dog ran to her mistress and allowed the leash to be attached to her collar.
Sophie linked arms with her grandmother as they walked down the stairs. “How was your ride?” Sophie could hardly hold back her grin at Mimi’s most recent infatuation. She and a group of her friends had all purchased penny-farthing bicycles and met regularly to ride through Hyde Park in the mornings before the paths became too crowded. Six elderly women pedaling along the paths on the high-wheeled contraptions was certainly a sight to behold.
“It was lovely.” Mimi waved her hand as she spoke. “The morning hours are spectacular. The air is crisp, birds sing, and a feeling of hopefulness prevails as the city wakes.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Sophie said. “And no falls today?”
“Oh, there are always a few.” Mimi shrugged “But we don’t let that stop us. Physical activity and fresh air are good for the body and soul, though the hard ground is not always good for my elbows and knees.”
Sophie chuckled. She loved her grandmother’s eccentricities. And while the rest of her family simply tolerated the foibles with a roll of their eyes, she felt jealous of them. At what age did it become socially acceptable to . . . not act socially acceptable?
They reached the dining room, and a footman took the leash from Mimi and led the dog away to eat in the kitchen.
Sophie took her place beside her grandmother at the dining table. The meal was served, and she poured the tea.
Mimi took a bite of fish. “You returned very late last night. Did you find your story?”
“Yes.” The excitement of the investigation returned, making Sophie’s stomach flutter. She dabbed pastry crumbs from her lips and leaned toward her grandmother. “I stumbled upon a murder in Spitalfields.”
Her grandmother stopped with her teacup partway to her mouth. She opened her eyes wide. “Gracious, my dear. Jumped right in with both feet, didn’t you?”
Mimi’s reaction was exactly what Sophie had expected. Her grandmother never fussed or lectured but gave constant encouragement. Though she didn’t know for sure, Sophie was almost certain Mimi had been the one who’d convinced her parents to allow her to take the position with the newspaper in the first place.
Sophie scooped fruit onto her plate. “The circumstance was extremely lucky.” Seeing her grandmother’s raised brows over her teacup, she shook her head. “No, not lucky for the victim, of course, but for me to have arrived right as the police did. I was able to assist with the examination of the scene. Watching the investigators at work, seeing what they noticed and what they were able to deduce—it was all fascinating.”
“Do you know the victim’s identity?” Mimi asked.
“No,” Sophie said. “She was a young woman, and her dress . . .” She pulled her bag from beneath the table and slipped out the drawings she’d made the night before, leafing through until she found the one she wanted—a picture of the victim’s clothing. “I hope the dress will lead to her identity.” She set the paper between their plates.