The Murder of Mary Russell by King Laurie R

Author:King, Laurie R. [King, Laurie R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Historical, Age Range 2 Older Audience, Crime, Adult
ISBN: 9780804177900
Goodreads: 25177005
Publisher: Bantam
Published: 2016-04-05T07:00:00+00:00

Two days later, the Lady of the Seas shook off the last reaches of Gravesend and turned her slim prow to the south. Sails grew over their heads as Mrs Clarissa Hudson, a young widow lady travelling to Australia, bade her two sons (the dark and the light) to wave good-bye to England. Letting go of the baby’s tiny wrist, her own hand brushed against the hidden purse beneath her skirts, a motion she’d performed a hundred times since that morning: yes, the fat little Morocco leather folder with the letter of credit was still there, along with its handful of gold coins.

Despite that weight, she’d never felt so light—light-hearted, light-headed, as buoyant as the graceful ship beneath her shoes, pulled into the future by the filling sails above her feathered hat. She laughed aloud at the thought. When Billy looked up in surprise, she laughed all the more. She had no idea why that mad young man with the grey eyes had set her up so thoroughly, with tickets bought, money provided, even a quick trip along Oxford Street to fill in the gaps of their wardrobes. She and the boys had all they would need for a year—more, with care.

This irrational largesse would have made her uneasy had Mr Holmes not made it so abundantly clear that she was under no obligation to return. That so long as she stayed in the antipodes, she owed him nothing.

It must be remorse, she’d decided: his way to acknowledge that she’d pulled the trigger for him, and that the stigma she felt for having killed her father was best dealt with by getting her out of his sight, for good.

And for good it would be. Clarissa Hudson had no intention of coming back to England, never planned on seeing The Bishop, the city, or that lad with the piercing grey eyes, ever again. She could not help worrying a little about this fluke of freedom. She also knew that the dark events of Hampshire were far from over, that the hundred or more empty days that stretched out before her would be haunted by her father’s death. But for the moment—for this hour, on this ship, she would neither mourn her father nor argue with good fortune. Today, she would be a mother, and choose life. She would seize it and run, never to return from what Australia had to offer: freedom to make another life.

She lifted her face to the sun, and laughed aloud again.

—

Three hundred fifty-one days later, in the third week of October, 1880, Clarissa Hudson leant over the rails of the steamer Ben Jonson and watched the Thames close in, turning the water around their hull from sea to sewer. She was not laughing this time as they churned methodically past Gravesend. Nor was she travelling as the widowed mother of two sons.

Billy leant into her side, making himself small against the cold wind. She rubbed his shoulder, wondering yet again if she should have made him stay behind.

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