Chapter Text
A week later…
William pushed his dinner plate away and wiped his mouth with the napkin. "That was delicious, Eliza. Thank you for inviting me for dinner," he said, leaning back in his chair.
Eliza had her hands clasped in front of her, having already finished her portion. "Ivy makes a fine pork roast. You made her week by having seconds," she smiled at him.
"Well, a home-cooked meal is a bit rare for me these days," he said, rubbing his stomach absent-mindedly.
"I've asked that she serve dessert and tea in the drawing-room if that's alright?"
"Of course, after that meal, I am amenable to almost anything right now."
"Oh, I'm so glad you said that," Eliza said, beaming from ear to ear.
"Uh, oh, that sounds ominous," he said, smiling back at her.
"Come along," she gestured as she stood up from the dining room table.
As they entered, Ivy put out a tray of fresh scones, marmalade and a big pot of tea. "You enjoyed your meal, Inspector Wellington?" Ivy said, beaming at him.
"Yes, I did, but what's this? Why have you put your drawing room out of sorts, Eliza?"
One settee had been pushed against the windows. The other one was against the wall with the coffee table in front of it, leaving an open space in the room.
Eliza smiled conspiratorially with Ivy. "Well, I will explain that in a moment, but let's digest our meal a bit, and we can talk about the case, alright?"
William looked at them both with some suspicion. They were up to something, and he suspected he would somehow be at the brunt of it. "Alright…," he said and sat tentatively in front of the scones.
"You two, enjoy," Ivy said, leaving the room.
"Thank you," William called after her. He did love Ivy's scones. He couldn't blame Davies, who was a bit of a stout fellow, for being coerced through baked goods. They melted in your mouth and were still steaming from the oven. Eliza was pouring tea for them both.
"So Maude pled guilty and she received a lesser sentence?" she asked.
William took his cup from her and said, "Yes, we left out the charge of extortion against my wishes, but I think a few months in the women's prison for the attempted murder is sufficient given her sad circumstances," he said. "How did the magistrate take the news?"
"He was delighted that the extortion was not on the docket. And he was grateful to have ALL of the photographs in his possession," Eliza said. She did not mention her threat of quid pro quo to William. She'll play that trump card when she needs to; IF she needs to.
"He paid me the agreed fee, plus a bit extra for inconveniencing me with his lie of omission. I paid Moses his share and he refused to take it from me."
"Good. Moses should not be paid for having abandoned you at the door the night of the raid," William grumbled.
"He panicked. He knew your constables were outside the door, but when he saw the crowd of officers and medical men walking down the street, he knew it was a morality raid. He said he tried to get our attention at the bar, but we were experiencing our revelations about Maude at that moment and didn't see him."
"Hmm," William grunted, not convinced.
"I know you don't like him, but he did help you," Eliza said, sipping some tea.
"I would have caught Charlie Green on my own eventually. Moses only stopped him so he could steal some of the coins from the strongbox when it fell open. I was busy cuffing Green, but I'm certain I saw him pick up several shillings from the ground."
Eliza smiled. Moses had told her he had paid himself the salary Green owed, but he had also slipped to Eliza, a sovereign he found, knowing that William had lost two during the ruse. She couldn't tell William because it would confirm Moses stole the money, and it appeared that William was overlooking this transgression because he wanted Green so badly. Moses told her he felt bad for abandoning her before the raid and had refused her payment. Eliza surmised that he'd taken more shillings than what was owed him.
"So Harris really was a whoremonger, and that's why he didn't want the extortion charges laid?" William asked, although it was more of a statement than a question.
"He claims it was just the one time," Eliza said.
William looked at her sarcastically. "Do you believe that?"
She just smiled. She wanted to, but as she was learning, men are weak and lie. He may have said that to save face. "Not really," she said. "Peg revealed during my interrogation that she had given Maude the idea of photographing Harris in a compromising position. She had shown her the tintype. Maude had already met Maxwell Cook outside the Royal Oak. He spent much of his time there, and she had noticed the resemblance to Harris even through the beard. She had cleaned him up about a month ago and tried her hand using Everett's equipment that he had acquired before his death. But he had gathered old technology and had not yet switched to pre-made dry plates. When he was alive and working as an assistant, he had shown her how it was done, but it had been many months, and she needed practice. She used up quite a few glass plates and chemicals." Eliza explained.
"There were extra negatives amongst her belongings," William said.
"Yes, her practice shots of some of the other women in the Royal Oak. It's too bad, she had managed a few nice ones, she could have become an artist like Lady Clementina Hawarden or Julia Margaret Cameron. Instead, she chose revenge, focused only on what she'd lost instead of seeing an opportunity to become something more."
"Not every woman has the searing ambition that you have, Eliza," William said, taking a sip of tea.
Eliza smiled at him. It was as close to a compliment as she may get from him about her choice to remain independent. "Anyway," she continued, "Maude had taken the photos of Peg and Max, in the order that I had surmised, and she'd run out of glass plates. She had to spend some money to pick up some dry plates so she could produce another photo. When she was very short with me Thursday night, she had spent much of the day arranging to have Peg pick up the plates, find Cook and clean him up and take the photo in her room instead of #11."
"Why didn't they use #11 for that time?" William asked.
William had not questioned Maude as she refused to talk to him. She agreed to only speak to Eliza. She had Maude give her the details of the extortion in exchange for a guilty plea on the attempted murder, and the Yard would ignore the extortion charge for her sake and Harris'.
"Patsy was using it much of the day. She takes in daytime customers behind Charlie's back."
William just grimaced. Not much surprised him anymore. "Had she forgotten to pay Cook for his 'services'?" William asked.
"She hadn't forgotten, she just didn't have the shillings to spare after purchasing the dry-plates. She promised she'd pay him later, presumably after Harris paid her, but in his drunken stupor, he had forgotten that detail and came looking for it."
"Lucky for us," William said.
"Indeed. When Peg came to Maude looking for the higher quality 'bub', that was her way of saying the photograph had been delivered earlier that day. Maude had promised a cut of the money to her."
"Do you think she intended to take the money and be done with it? Or would she have held the photos over Harris' head for years?"
"She said her initial plan was to take the money, and move outside the city or possibly even travel to America. She was going to leave Everett's equipment here and Peg was considering producing...obscene photographs as a way to make more money." Eliza grimaced.
William grunted. "I wonder if we can add that to the list of charges we have on her now."
"Well, I can't speak to that, but to answer your original question, I believe Maude intended to not publish the photographs until the night of the raid. In her desperation and grief of losing her plan, she realized she just wanted revenge on Harris and wanted to see him harmed somehow."
"I can't see her strong enough to kill him," William said.
"Perhaps not, but he is a bit of a mousy creature, not very tall. She could have cut him fatally."
"I do hope that your next case does not require you to go undercover as a barmaid again. If I hadn't pressed Honeychurch for details about your visit to Davies, this could have gone quite differently," William put his cup down and turned towards her.
"Honeychurch has the uncanny ability to be a thorn in my side," Eliza said teasingly.
"It's not funny, Eliza. You had not told me what you were doing, you were in a dance hall, a sleazy saloon where the manager was happy to sell you to any bloke who happened along."
"Well, it's a good job you're a good detective, Inspector, and that you were the 'bloke' to find me and have your way with me or I may have gone down a dark and seedy path," she taunted. Eliza was not interested in arguing with him about this. She had other plans in mind.
William glared at her, but she noticed his cheeks burned red above his beard. He was somewhat embarrassed by her statement. He instead took the hint and changed the subject. "Why do you have the drawing-room torn apart like this?"
Eliza again gave him that captivating grin that displayed that she had some sort of scheme brewing. "I have two things for you, William." She stood up, walked over to the mantle to retrieve something from a box, and sat down again. "First, I owe you this," and she took his hand and placed a coin in his palm.
He opened his hand and saw a sovereign. "Eh, what's this for?"
"It's the sovereign I owe you for paying for #11 for the night," she said.
He looked at her. She didn't have to do that, but he was glad to see it. "Oh, Eliza, you don't have to...Wait a minute; I paid two sovereigns for that room," he said accusingly.
"Yes, well, in return for that sovereign, I intend to provide a service. Not that kind of service," Eliza grinned when William gave her a shocked look. "Polka lessons," she stated.
William slouched into the settee. "What? No, I hate that dance. This is your idea of a present?" He sounded like a whiny child.
"YES. Your polka dancing should have made the Illustrated Police News-- it was so scandalous. Ivy and I pushed the settees out of the way, and now that we have digested our dinner a bit more, I can show you how to count the polka and keep you from impersonating a frog on a hot cobblestone." Eliza was enjoying William's discomfort a bit too much. She stood up and held out her hand. "Come along."
William stared at her hand with a pained expression. This was a horrible dance; he had never mastered it. William could waltz or jig, but this dance? Eliza shook her hand at him when he remained slouching like a petulant child; she would not let him out of this. If he left, she might torture him by mentioning his lack of polka skill to his constables and making his life a living hell. Rolling his eyes and sighing, he took her hand, and she led him to the open floor space.
She held his hand as he stood there with a lackadaisical posture and a disinterested face. "I think part of your problem is that you think you need to hop and lift your knees for the polka when all you have to do is skip your feet. And you need to learn to count it. It moves like this: one-and-two, three-and-four, one-and-two, three-and-four. Count with me... one-and-two, three-and-four," she kept counting until he joined her reluctantly, mumbling along.
"Alright, keep counting, and I'll show you how you step to it." She moved her feet forward to demonstrate how he was to start the dance. She started on her left and shuffled her feet to his count. When she reached the fireplace, she returned and faced him. "Now you do it with me, and keep counting. Start on your left foot…." William kept counting, mumbling it a bit, and the two of them moved forward until they reached the mantle. Then she turned him around and made him go back. Once he did that a few times, she assumed the partner position and had him lead her in a forward motion, counting the whole time. The pained grimace he had been holding started to disappear as he began to understand the mechanics of the dance.
"That's good, William, can you feel the rhythm of it now, even without music?" she asked him.
William wanted to stay angry with her, but he was enjoying having her in his arms. He tried to keep a stern look on his face and replied, "Yes, Eliza, I understand it. Can we have dessert now; the scones are cold."
Eliza almost laughed. "Not quite. I will teach you one more thing, the clockwise turning basic--it will allow you to move through a dance floor. The same count, turn me to the right, I'll count you in, 5, 6, 7, 8...one-and-two, three-and-four."
William turned her around as he mouthed the count, concentrating. He spun her around the drawing room without hopping. She was so easy to lead that he decided to keep going, eventually stopping his audible count. They circled around several times without faltering. Eliza looked up at him and gave him the most beautiful smile. "You've got it, William! It's brilliant!" His smile increased as he kept spinning her. He built up speed, and she let out a slight squeal as her grip on his hand and shoulder tightened. They were both children again for a moment, laughing and spinning circles in the backyard, making themselves dizzy as a pastime.
William increased his speed again as he moved his hand to her waist, lifting her off the floor. "Ah! William!" William laughed as Eliza shrieked with delight, then he stopped spinning and brought her to the ground. He lifted his left hand above her head and twirled her. When she came around, she crashed into his torso, her left hand on his chest, her right hand held firmly by his left and pulled close to his heart. He had wrapped his right arm around her, keeping their bodies close. They were breathing hard and unable to speak. She stared up at him, her eyes wide. He gazed back intently. They kept staring, both equally mute and breathing hard. She broke eye contact to glance at his lips and licked her own again, unaware she'd done it.
William closed his eyes and swallowed. "You once asked me if I'm ever tempted…" he said, his voice deep. "If you want me to kiss you, Eliza, you will have to tell me, as I will not poach them from you anymore."
Eliza stared back at him, her eyes darting a bit as if she was making a decision. Then suddenly, she took her left hand from his chest and reached for his beard. She lifted on tiptoe as he bent down to meet her, and she gently placed her lips on his own and pressed lightly. It was a less intense kiss than they had shared at the saloon, and William let her set the pace. Her lips were warm and soft against his. Her hand stroked his beard, and he shivered from her touch. She ended it by dropping down on her heels, her hand leaving his face to hold onto his waistcoat. Her heart was pounding.
William's pupils had dilated, so he looked at her with dark eyes. His enticing smile caused Eliza to say, "What?" He wanted to kiss her again but kept his promise and resisted all his primal urges. She had chosen to kiss him, and that was monumental.
"That was very nice," his voice was deep and husky.
Eliza blushed. "The dancing, you mean?" She smiled flirtatiously.
William's grin grew. "Yes, the dancing," he replied. She smiled broadly, grateful that he wasn't going to push for more. She pulled her hands from him slowly, and William took the hint-- that was enough for her for now.
"We still have dessert to consume," Eliza said, embarrassed but smiling. She walked over to her place on the settee and began preparing scones. William watched her go and, smiling to himself, joined her. As he sat down, he said, "These scones are powerful enough to influence the constabulary of Scotland yard, so I am not going to miss my opportunity to have one or two. Or three."
Eliza looked over at him. Her blush remained on her cheeks, and she was indeed the most beautiful he could remember seeing her. She said, "Well, I certainly hope they are worth a whole sovereign."
William stopped buttering his scone and looked at her fondly. "Aye, m'eudail, best money I ever spent."