The Unquiet Heart Read online

  My short time in Edinburgh had been marked by murder – first of a young prostitute, then of her killer as Gregory Merchiston took a life to save mine, only to see me throw it away on humdrum conventionality. No wonder he was angry with me.

  Much as I wanted to dwell on my fate – or slip through the front door into the street and run as though my life depended on it – even I had to concede that the time to break things off was perhaps not the night of my engagement party. All I had to do tonight was survive, and I had proved rather good at that of late.

  Retracing my steps, I heard muffled voices from the rooms above. While the supposed end of my unladylike professional fortunes was being celebrated in the dining room, there were women working all around the house, an unseen hive of activity on which this household – and mine, and countless others – ran. Knowing I had delayed my return for as long as I could, I pushed open the dining room door with what I hoped was an expression of serene joy – and just in time.

  ‘Sarah, we were waiting for you.’ Aunt Emily’s tone was light, but there was a warning in her eyes.

  I couldn’t afford to displease her; it wouldn’t get me the result I wanted, and I was more likely to end up barred from attending lectures for a week than receive any sympathy.

  ‘It’s your turn now.’ Miles smiled shyly.

  Ah, yes. The one point of the evening I was dreading even more than simpering across the table in the direction of my betrothed.

  I lifted my glass and recited the only scrap of Burns I had been able to stomach – an unfortunate pun under the circumstances – or understand.

  ‘While Europe’s eye is fix’d on mighty things,

  The fate of Empires and the fall of Kings;

  While quacks of State must each produce his plan,

  And even children lisp the Rights of Man;

  Amid this mighty fuss just let me mention,

  The Rights of Woman merit some attention.’

  I heard Aunt Emily’s intake of breath across the table. This was not the sweet speech I had practised in front of her, but in the face of a captive audience, most of whom would rather see me dead in childbirth than studying medicine, I was not going to let this one rare opportunity to have my say slip through my fingers.

  Miles watched me in that unsettling way of his, a gaze that never left my face. An eternity of his basset hound adoration loomed before me as I stumbled to an end.

  Colonel Greene smiled indulgently, as though I were a small child imitating the adults. I knew his type. He might have disagreed with what newspaper opinion writers called ‘the woman question’, but he enjoyed the cut and thrust of the debate, of a woman at least trying to match him wit for wit. There were students like that at the medical school, and privately I always suspected them of being little more than overgrown schoolboys dipping a girl’s pigtails in an inkwell to get her attention, as through frustration were on a par with attraction when it came to arousing emotion in a woman.

  I would have to be on my guard with my new father-in-law.

  ‘A toast to the happy couple,’ came a warm voice to my right. At least I had friends here – Elisabeth Chalmers and her husband Randall, he a medical man and she one of the chaperones who accompanied the female students to lectures lest one of us lose our virtue during a dissection.

  ‘Miles, you are very lucky. Sarah is one of the kindest, most selfless women I know. She will make you a very happy man – and you had better make her a happy woman, or you shall have me to contend with!’

  The room broke into laughter – being threatened by Elisabeth was rather like being threatened by a kitten. She might have sharp claws, but she was so pretty and gentle that even her warning swipes seemed playful. I had witnessed her wind even the most unreformed woman-hater around her little finger, whereas all I managed to do was scratch.

  ‘In the words of Burns’ – good God, how much poetry had the man written? – ‘“But to see her was to love her. Love but her, and love forever.”’

  I felt sick from more than just the haggis. But whatever fulsome praise Miles was on the verge of spouting never materialised as a bloodcurdling scream sounded from outside.

  Chapter 4

  We sat in the parlour, all thoughts of dinner forgotten. The screams had alerted an on-duty constable, who, on coming to investigate, found an amorous pair of sweethearts whose evening plans had been abruptly called to a halt on the discovery of a dead body in the bushes. They would normally have been taken to the station for breaking into the street’s private gardens, but under the circumstances they were cautioned and sent to the kitchen – considerably more befitting their station than a locked New Town shrubbery – while we waited for the constable’s colleagues to arrive.

  All this was explained by a uniformed man who looked barely older than Miles and had clearly not been expecting anything so dramatic during a night’s patrol in one of the wealthier parts of Edinburgh.

  His ears all but pricked up at the mention of the maid’s disappearance, and Alisdair was dispatched to identify the body. Colonel Greene could barely be torn away from his wife’s side, glowering at the whole room as though the perpetrator were among our company. It was, I realised with a shiver, a distinct possibility.

  He turned to Randall.

  ‘Chalmers, you’re a medical man. Could I prevail upon you . . . ?’

  Randall nodded, and followed Alisdair out.

  A sickly silence settled on the room – even Aunt Emily, who was able to conjure small talk out of the most awkward situation, was at a loss for words. It felt like for ever until Alisdair returned, but the clock suggested it was a little less than ten minutes.

  ‘It’s Wilson.’ Alisdair stood in the doorway, swaying slightly. ‘She was hit on the back of the head. She must have been there since last night.’ He turned to Aurora. ‘Mother, I’m so very sorry to have to tell you this, but she had one of your earrings in her pocket.’

  The room exploded into uproar.

  ‘You mean to tell me that some madman has attacked your mother’s maid after she stole from us?’ The colonel was apoplectic.

  Miles tried to speak, but all that came out was a series of stammered vowels, the earlier composure he had been clinging to utterly vanished. Alisdair rested a reassuring hand on his brother’s shoulder. I could see in that moment years of inter-preting what Miles was trying to say, interceding perhaps on his younger brother’s behalf.

  Uncle Hugh put his arm protectively around my aunt, as though the murderer might not only be in the very room but would somehow be prevented from claiming a second victim by the gesture.

  ‘Emily, perhaps the carriage—’

  ‘Won’t be possible, I’m afraid,’ Randall interjected. ‘The police . . .’

  ‘Surely that can’t be necessary?’

  ‘A woman has been murdered!’ It was a moment before I realised the furious voice was mine. ‘Of course the police will have questions.’

  ‘Now we don’t know that—’

  ‘She can’t have bashed her own skull in!’

  The room fell silent and I felt eight pairs of wide eyes on me. Uncle Hugh had turned puce with rage.

  ‘You must be in shock, Sarah.’ Aunt Emily gave me a significant look. ‘Perhaps some smelling salts – or brandy?’

  ‘I’m sure you’re right,’ I agreed, dabbing at my dry eyes with a handkerchief. I paused. ‘What was her first name?’

  Alisdair looked blank. ‘I have no idea. Mother only ever called her Wilson.’

  ‘Clara,’ Miles said. ‘H-her name was Clara.’

  I doubt the family could tell me her age or where she was from, her likes and dislikes, whether or not she had a sweet-heart. But at least the poor creature outside had a name now.

  ‘We won’t know the cause of death until someone has examined her,’ Randall reminded us. ‘I have a friend – a medical man – who assists the police with their investigations. His discretion can be relied on.’

  Colonel Greene nodded. �
�Thank you, Chalmers,’ he said with relief. ‘Christ, Alisdair, sit down and have a drink before you faint like a woman.’

  In the hallway, I heard Randall give a name and address to the footman and my heart sank. I had, somewhere between the maid taking our coats and the poetry, thought that tonight couldn’t get any worse. I felt Elisabeth’s gaze on me and studiously avoided it.

  Aunt Emily, shaken as she was, sprang into action and dragged me along with her. By the time the doorbell rang, everyone had tea – liberally spiked – and Aurora had a blanket wrapped around her as though she had been the one lying outside in the frost-rimed grass.

  A trembling maid stood in the doorway, jolting me out of my reverie. This must be Blackwell, the makeshift lady’s maid who had arranged Aurora’s hair for tonight. With a pang, I realised that she would have known the dead girl, perhaps even been friends with her.

  ‘The police doctor is here.’

  I felt myself exhale a breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding. Help was at hand.

  I had thought I was used to the sight of Professor Gregory Merchiston holding forth in front of an audience – it was a thrice-weekly occurrence in my lectures. And although I had seen him once before in his role as police surgeon, his lanky figure – rail-thin next to Colonel Greene’s robust frame; he’d lost weight and I hated that I knew his physique well enough to be bothered – looked out of place here, a horrible reminder that a tragedy had occurred. It was a wonder he wasn’t wearing a black hood and carrying a scythe.

  ‘Constable Niven has sent for some more officers. In the meantime, I’ll need to speak to each of you in private.’

  ‘You can’t mean to implicate us!’ Colonel Greene looked outraged.

  ‘Not at all, sir. It’s simply procedure. The ladies, of course, may have someone present – I believe that Mrs Chalmers acts as a chaperone at the university.’

  He wasn’t a policeman and he had no jurisdiction to question any of us. He wanted to speak to me, I realised with a thrill I tried to suppress.

  ‘Since the lady of the house has had such a terrible shock, we’ll let you rest for a while. Perhaps the gentlemen followed by you, madam’ – this to Aunt Emily – ‘and then the young lady last?’ He looked at me solicitously, as though we had never met, much less argued earlier that day.

  ‘You must be so distressed.’ I felt Miles’ hand on my arm, patting it damply as he realised belatedly that he should offer some comfort to his beloved. Professor Merchiston would never be so gauche as to smirk during a murder investigation, but I suspected that he dearly wanted to.

  The fire grew low in the grate and Alisdair stoked it, his expression grim.

  ‘I barely knew the girl, but she always seemed nice enough. I assume she came with good references?’

  ‘Excellent ones,’ Aurora managed. I wished he would leave her alone; she looked on the verge of swooning.

  ‘Probably some man,’ the colonel huffed. ‘Girls have their heads turned so easily.’

  ‘I can’t bear to think that she stole from me,’ Aurora said shakily. ‘I couldn’t find my carnelian earrings the other day – I suppose she pocketed them as well.’

  Alisdair poured her another cup of tea, discreetly sloshing some more brandy into it. If he wasn’t careful, she would give her account half-cut.

  Finally, it was my turn.

  Elisabeth followed us into the dining room and wandered over to pour herself a glass of champagne. It was probably flat by now and I doubted she would actually drink it, but the illusion of privacy was appreciated.

  ‘A charming start to an engagement. You know, when Randall summoned me, I thought you’d taken matters into your own hands.’ His smile was lazy, a familiarity glinting in his eyes that even our unconventional friendship did not afford. In fact, I realised, all his movements tonight had been indolent, slower than normal. Aurora, it seemed, was not the only one who had imbibed a little too much that night.

  ‘Professor, you’re still drunk!’

  He shrugged, and I could see it in the looseness of his limbs, all his customary tension gone. ‘A little whisky after you left. Randall interrupted me before I could really make a night of it.’

  ‘I’m sorry we interfered with your plans. If you’d prefer, we could call for the official police surgeon, rather than a lecturer who gets involved when his own curiosity is provoked.’

  ‘Dismiss me if you wish, Miss Gilchrist. But do you really think that Littlejohn would give a young lady – medical student though she may be – a front-row seat to the examination of the body?’

  It was the first good news I’d had all night. My face lit up, and he laughed. ‘You’re a morbid thing. I should tell you to get back to your fiancé.’

  I looked at him in the flickering candlelight.

  ‘But you won’t.’ My voice came out lower than I intended, but neither of us seemed to mind.

  Whatever fragile spell was between us, it was entirely broken by Aunt Emily’s entrance.

  ‘Have you finished with my niece yet, Professor?’

  They had met once before over another dead body, and Merchiston’s association with criminality clearly did not endear him to her, even if he was ostensibly on the opposite side.

  ‘Of course.’ He followed us through to the parlour and hovered in the drawing room doorway. It was the first time I had ever seen him look uncertain.

  ‘I could do with an artist to capture the poor girl as she is before the police stretcher arrives. We have a photographer at the station, of course, but in this light I’m afraid he won’t get much. Mrs Chalmers, Miss Gilchrist, could I prevail upon either of you?’

  Randall looked appalled. ‘I am not putting Elisabeth through such a gruesome scene!’

  His wife shuddered. ‘Thank you, darling. Much as I want to be of assistance, I don’t think I could step a foot in front of a dead body without fainting.’

  ‘Then Miss Gilchrist will have to be my able assistant. I hear that you have some medical expertise.’ He might as well have winked at me – this was not likely to look good to my future relatives, nor my current ones.

  Luckily, Aunt Emily was so outraged at the suggestion, she entirely missed the look behind it.

  ‘Under no circumstances! Sarah, your fascination with this ghastly business is quite out of place – and on the evening of your engagement party, no less!’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ Merchiston interjected with a Cheshire cat smile. ‘Allow me to extend my congratulations to the happy couple.’

  ‘Thank you, Professor,’ I said through gritted teeth.

  ‘In that case, perhaps you would be so kind, Randall old chap? I doubt that even Mrs Fitzherbert here could object to that.’

  The ‘old chap’ in question glared at his friend, but acquiesced. ‘And then the ladies can go home, if you have no further need for them?’

  ‘Thank God,’ Uncle Hugh muttered.

  As Miles helped me into my coat – a task that I, as a grown woman with all my limbs, naturally relied upon him to undertake – I realised that Merchiston was still standing there.

  ‘Miss Gilchrist?’

  I turned. He was looking at me, his hand outstretched.

  ‘Thank you for your assistance tonight.’ He shook my hand firmly, before turning to Miles. ‘Felicitations, sir. I hope you will have many happy years together.’

  I couldn’t tell if it was meant as a taunt or whether it was entirely genuine. The odd pang I felt at his words was irritation, that was all. Damn the blasted man. And damn poor Wilson for having the misfortune to be left to his tender mercies.

  ‘Mr Fitzherbert, could I prevail upon you to take my wife home?’ Randall kissed Elisabeth’s cheek tenderly. ‘Don’t wait for me, Lizzie. If we’re as late as I suspect we will be, I’ll sleep at the club and see you tomorrow for dinner.’

  Elisabeth masked her disappointment with a sweet smile and took my arm.

  Was this what marriage was? Concealing one’s real feelings and being abandoned
in favour of a masculine sanctuary where no one cared how late you went to bed? I had, of course, observed that my aunt and uncle slept in separate bedrooms, but separate buildings? Then again, if I did find myself yoked to Miles, then I might well persuade Randall to make him a member of his club.

  It was ghoulish of me, but I didn’t want to leave. Whatever secrets Randall and Merchiston were uncovering, I wanted to witness them. I had seen first-hand how an enemy could disguise themselves as a friend, how evil could lurk beneath the most seemingly charming surface. I wasn’t some little girl to be sent off to bed while the adults talked, and I knew the Greene residence a damn sight better than either of the gentlemen did. Had I been a man, marrying Mary Greene instead of Miles, I didn’t doubt that they would have allowed me to stay and observe – help, even. Had I been a man, my medical studies would be the object of praise rather than disgust. It was unfair that Miles, who practically fainted at the sight of blood, was permitted to remain while someone of stout stomach and enquiring mind was shuffled off home simply because she – because I – happened to be a woman.

  I stewed for most of the journey, and if either Elisabeth or Aunt Emily understood the reason for my silence, they chose to ignore it.

  ‘Sarah, you will join me for tea tomorrow afternoon, won’t you?’ I glanced at Aunt Emily and she nodded wordlessly. I suspected I knew what was behind Elisabeth’s invitation – even if Randall could not be prevailed upon to tell us what had happened, Merchiston might.

  ‘I’d love to. I’m sure I’ll need the distraction, after such a terrible shock.’ My voice sounded grating and false to my ears, but Uncle Hugh nodded approvingly.

  ‘Now, get some sleep,’ she said in a warning tone as she kissed me goodbye. She knew that I would be up half the night puzzling over the evening’s strange events, and I knew that she would be chastising me for yawning through the next morning’s lectures when I failed to take her advice. It was, I felt, solid ground for a friendship.