Chapter Text
Eliza folded the letter and grasped it in her lap, as Ivy entered the sitting room. “William has asked me to meet him tomorrow.”
“Oh? Does he know what day it is?”
“I don't know. I can’t think how he would.”
“Why don’t you invite him for dinner? He can help us eat the cake.”
She chuckled. “He does love your cake.”
Grinning, Ivy responded, “Of course, why wouldn't he?”
“Indeed. I’m sure he’d appreciate the invitation.” She tucked the letter into her pocket. ”I’m meeting a potential client in the morning. I’ll send William a message that I will visit Scotland Yard afterward.”
#
William knocked on their door just after daylight. There was an unmistakable glint in his eye. He was up to something.
He kissed her hand as soon as he stepped inside the door. “You received my letter? I’m here to collect you.”
“Now, William? It’s early.”
He tugged her hand and bounced on his feet. “Come along. I need your help interviewing a female suspect.”
Squinting at him, she shook her head but gathered her hat and gloves. He was like a small boy in his eagerness, and she couldn't help but be intrigued.
William described the situation as they bumped along in his carriage. “The suspect refuses to give us any information. I think you’ll have better luck.”
“You have nothing more?”
“We do,” he said, nodding. “But I’d prefer you hear for yourself.”
Arriving at Scotland Yard, he led her into the building and down a maze of hallways and closed doors. Being so early, few officers were there. “This is not the way to the interrogation room,” she said and stopped as they passed his office. “William, what are you about?”
A smile tugged at his lips as he shrugged. Her curiosity was well and truly piqued. They finally reached a wooden door near the Commissioner’s office.
He chuckled as she realized where they were. She’d never been to this part of the building, but her father had described it to her. Her eyes darted toward him as she whispered, “Truly? How could you possibly know—?”
“Because I know you.”
Her breath hitched and warmth spread through her. “There is no suspect?”
“Only if anyone asks.” He checked his watch. “Come. We only have until half-past. The Commissioner will have my head if he catches us.”
He opened the door, labeled with a small gold sign: ‘Black Museum’ and quietly shut it behind them.
She was bursting with questions. “What is that—? How—? When—?”
William patiently answered every question as they examined each artifact—from forgers’ copper plates to ropes used for hangings and murders to a variety of tools—nearly anything to assist officers with the detection and prevention of crime.
If he hadn’t gently held her arm, she never would have left.
#
The sun hit her face as they reached the street.
“Happy Birthday, Eliza,” he said and smirked. “And please don’t let your collection of lock picks end up there. For my sake.”
THE END
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