Prayers for the Dying by Tracy L. Ward

Author:Tracy L. Ward
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: paranormal, historical mystery, historical thriller, forensic science, gothic mystery, victorian mystery, london 1800s, dr peter ainsley, gothic victorian, morgue surgeon
Publisher: Tracy L. Ward

Ainsley left the offices of the Yard with a dejected feeling in the pit of his stomach. His dishevelled appearance betrayed his dishevelled heart. Julia was married? It seemed impossible and yet he knew Simms to be an honest man, exceedingly so. There would be no reason for the detective to lie to him. Ainsley didn’t want to think Julia had left them to return to her husband, not willingly at least.

His steps were slow as he made his way back to Belgravia. Not surprisingly, the people approaching him on the pavement parted rather anxiously as he came toward him. With his coat draped over his arm, he approached Marshall House and saw that Margaret stood at the top of the steps with Miss Winifred Talbot standing opposite her.

“Goodness gracious, Peter!” Margaret’s eyes widened as she took in the sight of him, ashen and filthy from his romp in the Thames. Although mostly dry, his fine clothes were ruined, their once bright, clean colours dulled by the grungy din of the river water. She stepped forward as if to come to him, but then suddenly recoiled and raised her hand to block her nostrils. The look on Miss Talbot’s face wasn’t any more favourable.

“Forgive me,” Ainsley said as he slipped by them. “I am in no position to receive company.” At the door he stopped and gave a quick bow to Miss Talbot. “Lovely to see you again, Miss Winifred.”

Judging by the look on her face, he had no doubt a quick departure would be appreciated. He heard the women giggling as he closed the door behind him.

Once in his room he summoned Maxwell, ordered a bath and began the long process of washing the Thames from his skin and hair.

An hour later he was presentable again. Dressed in freshly pressed trousers and a crisp linen shirt, Ainsley was putting on a cufflink when Margaret appeared at his door. The look on her face, fatigue mixed with apprehension, saddened him.

“Any trace of Julia or where she may have gone?” she asked, entering the room.

“Simms and I are following a lead,” he said.

“Simms? So he has forgiven you?”

Ainsley smiled, amused by her enthusiasm. “Not exactly.” With his cufflinks in place he pulled at the edge of his sleeve to adjust his shirt on his shoulders.

“Why was Winifred here?” he asked.

“I believe we found where that man was dispatched,” she said. “There’s a large pool of blood in the laneway behind the Talbot’s house.”

“The Yard didn’t discover it earlier?”

“It doesn’t seem like it.” Margaret pulled a bit of folded cloth from the inside of her sleeve. “I was able to get this.” She opened the layers slowly and deliberately until the cloth revealed a faint, pink impression. “I pressed my handkerchief into one of the footprints. I thought perhaps it could help in some way.”

Ainsley accepted the offering and carefully transported it to the small table near the window, where he could enjoy better light.

“It may well be the impression of the

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