Work Text:
Sunday, December 17, 1882, 9:36 am
Eliza opened her office door and shook the wet snow off her hat to hang it up. It had been a snowy December thus far, although the northern parts of England had received the worst of it–about a foot of snow in Scotland and Leicestershire earlier that month. She was grateful not to walk to the Agency in such a state. She was uncertain her boots could handle it.
It was Sunday, and Eliza had planned to stay home and help Ivy decorate for Christmas. But a messenger boy had dropped a note to the house last evening from Moses. He had arranged for a client to meet her at her office the following day at 10. Eliza had had a slight lull in cases, so she appreciated the business. If it pays well enough, she might give him a commission.
The note indicated that the client, Mrs. Monica Marshell, had an urgent problem suited to Eliza's talents. Eliza knew nothing more than that.
She placed her handbag on her desk and began to build a fire to warm the room. Once burning, she set the kettle on it to make tea and then sat at her desk to organize her casebook.
Ten minutes had passed when she glanced at the wall and noticed her father's photograph was gone. The wall had a hole where her father had hidden his last case book, and she never bothered to fix it. She kept the photograph over it and planned to keep the hole to hide things if needed. She stood up to see if the picture was on the file cabinet against that same wall. There was no evidence of the glass being shattered again (it had broken some months prior when it had fallen to the floor). Mild panic began to overtake Eliza. She didn't have a copy of this photograph; it was years old. Where on Earth is it? She thought.
Eliza was about to start tearing the office apart when she heard a knock on her door. It was 10 o'clock, and her client had arrived. She considered refusing her momentarily but reasoned that the photograph MUST be here somewhere, and she would have to look for it later. A case before Christmas was too important to pass up.
Later that day, 2:24 pm, Dorset Street, the Worst Street in London.
Eliza found herself confined in her carriage. The driver refused to let her out directly on Dorset Street, where she had traced the dog-napper to his lodging house. The road was filthy with men and women who were either drunk or soliciting anyone crazy enough to walk down the street. When she gave the destination, the cab driver looked at her like she was mad. "You canno' go, there, Miss, it's too dangerous," he had said. She traced the culprit, Hal Harmon, to Dorset Street's lodging houses. Eliza had concluded that the suspect was a recently fired employee based on her interviews with the remaining staff. There were enough clues left in his room in Mrs. Marshell's home to determine that he had taken Pee Wee, Mrs. Marshell's white and grey Pekinese, for a ransom.
She enticed the cabman with more fare to drive down the street to see which lodging house was #35. He agreed but threatened Eliza with leaving her there if she stepped out of the carriage. He didn't even want to let the carriage sit on the street, so they parked behind the house on Whites Row.
She would usually ignore such advice, but after cruising down the street and seeing the slums, garbage and dirty faces of the people they drove past, she had a gut instinct to listen. But at this rate, she would never be able to resolve this case. How could she procure the dog if she couldn't leave the carriage? After a few minutes of thinking about her problem, Eliza noticed a young boy who had come out of a building abutting the Dorset street lodging house. She flagged him down.
"Excuse me, young man. May I ask you a question?" He slowed his run and approached the carriage tentatively.
"I suppose so," he said.
"Do you know the tenants of 35 Dorset? In particular, do you remember seeing a man bring a small dog to the rooms in the past two days?" she asked him.
"I 'ave seen a small dog, an' 'eard it barkin', too, every night for the past two days," he said.
Eliza smiled. The young boy, Toby, confirmed the description of Pee Wee. After paying him handsomely for his information, Eliza sent him off to Scotland Yard to fetch Detective Inspector Wellington with a note to bring a troop of constables to Dorset street.
3:13 pm # 35 Dorset Street
Eliza stood next to William just outside #35 Dorset. He had an irritated look on his face and stood very close to her. She let out a huff of air as she crossed her arms and stared down Dorset towards Commercial Street. She was being scolded. Again.
"Why didn't you contact me before you came out here? This street has been getting worse and worse every year for crime and general lawlessness for some time. I never send constables out here by themselves for any reason at any time of day," he said, his Scottish brogue thickening with his irritation at Eliza's foolhardiness.
"I didn't realise it was that bad until the cabman mentioned it," she said, knowing her excuse was thin.
"That should have been your cue to come fetch me first," he said. William made a low growling sound; he was so upset. "If I could arrest the cabman for bringing you here in the first place, I would."
Eliza scoffed. "Ridiculous," she muttered, pacing away from him. William saw her move, and he brought his body closer to her. His nervousness about her being on Dorset Street was starting to make her nervous, but she wasn't about to tell him that.
They watched the constables drag out a very drunk and angry Mr. Harmon and take him to the police wagon. Another constable brought Pee Wee over to Eliza, who smiled as she took her in her arms. The dog seemed pleased to see a feminine face and licked her nose. William couldn't help but snicker as Eliza made a pleasant grimace.
William frowned and asked, "I didn't know you had a case, you didn't mention this last night." They had gone dancing at the Cinderella ball at the Holborn Town Hall again last evening.
"That's because I didn't know I had one. Moses left me a message at the house that a client needed my help and I was to meet her at my office this morning," she answered, giving Pee Wee ear scratches.
William stiffened his posture. "You were at your office this morning?" he asked.
"Yes. Why?"
William sniffed. He watched the police wagon drive off, a yelling Harmon in the back, shaking his fist through the bars. "No reason. Let's take the dog home and get off this damned street," he said. He took Eliza by the elbow and led her to his carriage.
Eliza squinted at William. He was hiding something from her. Whenever he sniffed, he was usually lying. She was about to question him further when the little dog started to lick her face even more.
"Ach, Pee Wee!" Eliza exclaimed. "Please be a lady and control yourself."
Mr. Henry Scarlet Detective Agency, 5:27 pm
Eliza trudged up the stairs to her office, tired but very satisfied. William had dropped her off at Mrs. Marshell's home with Pee Wee and then rushed off to 'take care of something.'
Eliza was there to draw up a receipt for her records and ensure her client had a copy. Mrs. Marshell had been so ecstatic to see her dog that she paid Eliza on the spot. She gave her extra, insisting that whatever expenses she incurred, she'd pay those as well.
Once again, she lit the fire and warmed up the room before sitting at the desk to draw up the paperwork. She glanced up at the wall where her photograph was and then looked down.
She did a double-take. The photograph was hanging on the wall!
She'd managed to forget it was missing and planned to look everywhere when she returned, but there it was, hanging in its usual spot, straight and right as rain.
Eliza approached it slowly, carefully took it off the wall, and flipped it over. She looked in the hole to see if anything was inside.
"What in the world…?" Eliza muttered. She looked around the room, back at the picture, the wall, the hole, the desk, willing something, anything to reveal what had occurred while she was gone. "Have I gone mad?" she asked the room. Henry's ghost didn't visit her anymore, so no one answered her.
Here was a mystery even she could not solve.
Sunday, December 24, 1882
"Come in, Inspector. Happy Christmas!" Ivy said, taking his hat and coat.
"Thank you, Ivy. Happy Christmas to you," he said with a big smile. He held a bag in his hands and gave a knowing look to Ivy, who smiled purposely back and took the bag from him.
Eliza came down the staircase to greet him. "Happy Christmas, William!" she said.
She rushed down the stairs and presented her hand to him. He brought it to his lips, then looked up to see if Ivy was out of the foyer. Eliza also looked back conspiratorially. Both satisfied they were alone, William placed a gentle, lingering kiss on her lips. Eliza blushed.
"Happy Christmas to you as well," he smiled seductively.
"Dinner is almost ready," Eliza said, and she pulled him toward the dining room.
About an hour and a half later.
William sat on the settee in Eliza's drawing-room. His belly was full, he was warm, and he had a smug smile of satisfaction. Eliza had brought in the tea service herself. Ivy had cooked their Christmas meal today, and she ate with them; the three of them dined and enjoyed each other's company for Christmas Eve. In exchange, Eliza let her go home tonight to be with her mother in Hackney on Christmas Day. They were alone in the house. Eliza promised Ivy she'd send William home after digesting his meal for a while. But there was no rush, she thought, a smile on her face.
After pouring the tea and handing William his cup, she sat next to him, perhaps a bit closer than usual. The fire was blazing, the kerosene lamps in the windows backlit the Christmas tree, and the room took on a cozy feeling of comfort and home.
"Did you and Ivy do all this decorating?" William asked, taking the teacup from her.
Eliza blew on her hot tea. "We did. Well, she did the linens and holly. I helped her hang the garland on the walls. And we decorated the tree together." Eliza was about to sip her tea when she paused, and her face took on a sad expression.
"I missed Father being here. He would take out each ornament and tell me a story about Mother. I didn't have that this year." She looked wistfully at the fire in the hearth.
William grew sombre as well. "I'm sorry, Eliza," he said.
"For what? This is how it is now. We have to make new traditions," she said, trying to perk up.
"We?" he asked, also perking up at this news.
"Well, of course. You, Ivy, you're the only family I have. Perhaps next year we can decorate the tree together. We can start new stories, new traditions," she said, smiling and feeling hopeful for the future.
William's eyes turned dark as he held his cup and looked into her eyes. "I would like that," he said in a low register. Eliza held his gaze and gave a slight smile.
"Perhaps we can also celebrate Hogmanay as a new tradition. And I would like to help with the decorating next year, if I can," he said, leaning back into the settee, taking a sip of tea and scrutinizing the tree in the corner. "It is a fine tree, but it could use a male touch, don't you think?"
Eliza frowned and smiled. "Male touch? Whatever do you mean?" she asked, perplexed by his statement.
"Well, look at it, I mean, don't you think you have more ornaments on one side than the other?" William sipped again and covered a smile.
Eliza looked at William, confused. "What? No." She glanced at the tree, then back at him. "It's fine."
"No, it's definitely heavy on one side. Look again." Sip.
Eliza frowned more. Was he trying to annoy her on Christmas Eve? She glanced at the tree again and looked back at him. "You don't know what you're saying. We decorated it perfectly," Eliza said, holding her teacup and utterly confused over this strange argument.
William stared at Eliza with an expectant gaze. She just looked at him like he was insane.
"What is going on with you? You're behaving strangely," she said.
"Ach, look at the damn tree, Eliza and use your detective skills, for God's sake!" William said, plunking his teacup down a bit harder than necessary.
Eliza squinted at him, then looked at the tree once more. There was something off. A large round ornament was hanging on the right-hand side of the tree that wasn't there before. She turned her body away from William to face the tree. "What IS that?" She stood, walked over to the ornament, and plucked it from its branch.
Eliza held the gift by the brown string and studied it. It was a round wooden frame, hand-carved with a familiar picture-- a copy of the photo from her office.
"Oh! William! Is this my present?" she asked, staring intently at the photo.
"Yes, Eliza. I had Ivy sneak it in here before dinner. Truthfully I thought you'd have noticed it before now." William was now smiling, his secret finally revealed. He reached for his flask and slipped some whisky into his tea.
Eliza then glared at him, smiling the whole time, and asked, "Did you take my photo from my office to have this made?" she asked.
William scratched his beard. "You were not supposed to be in the office last Sunday," he explained. "I had planned this gift some time ago, but my busyness kept me from borrowing your photo. I had to use my key to the Agency to sneak it out. You told me you had no case the night before, so I knew I had to wake early and borrow it. I took it to a photographer who owed me a favour, and then once the photo was copied I returned it to your office." He gestured to have her hand him the ornament.
Eliza passed it to him, a grin on her face at his ingenuity and thoughtfulness. "I had the woodworker keep the frame generic so that you could actually hang this photo here in the house all year, not just on the tree at Christmas time," he said, showing her the detailed work on the frame and the artist's name on the back.
She beamed at him. "I love it. Thank you," she said.
"You're welcome," he replied, looking pleased with himself; he handed the ornament back to her.
Eliza stood to put the photo back on the tree. There was a rustling sound behind her. When she turned around, William leaned back on the settee, looking conspicuously innocent. Now, what is he up to? she thought.
Sitting back down next to him, she began to reach for her teacup when William swiftly sat up and shifted closer to her. She turned to him and saw that his right arm was above their heads. "What are you doing now…?" When she looked up, she noticed a sprig of mistletoe in his hand. She gave him a mock glare. "Where did that come from?" she asked reproachfully.
"From my pocket just now," he said, smiling wickedly. "You're not such a great detective, Eliza, you really should have caught on to all this well before now," he teased.
She gave him a light blow to the arm, and he flinched, laughing. "All this subterfuge, just to solicit one kiss?" she asked, jutting her chin at him with mock defiance.
" One kiss?" he asked, surprised. He plucked a berry off the plant and presented it to her. "There's at least 20 or more berries on this sprig. I plan to spend them all."
"I suppose that's your Christmas present from me, is it?" she said.
His smile widened. "If you prefer it."
Eliza took the berry from him and leaned toward him. "Then you better get started before the kerosene runs out," she said.
William reached out to touch her face. "Gladly," he said and began with a gentle graze of his lips to hers; when he noticed she was kissing him back, he increased the intensity until she gave a soft sigh. Only then did he drop his arm holding the mistletoe, toss it to the side and slip his hand into hers, entwining their fingers.
Eliza found herself hoping the kerosene would run out at any time, but the mistletoe berries to last well until midnight.