Read Online Tenfold More Wicked by Viola Carr - Free Book Online Page B

ruined, I think. Perhaps Molly can have them cleaned.”
    â€œYour boots are filthy, too. Where have you been, mudlarking?” Mrs. Poole dusted the already spotless hall stand. “That Chief Inspector’s case take a bad turn?”
    â€œWorse,” admitted Eliza. “A dull turn. The man’s making fun of me. And please don’t say ‘I told you so.’”
    â€œNever did like that Mr. Reeve. Ugly manners, stinks of cigars.” A sly wink. “Your handsome army captain, now, there’s a proper gentleman. Shall we be seeing him again?”
    â€œWho?” Eliza widened her eyes.
    â€œFor certain, clever rich fellows pop into your consulting room and propose all the time. Hardly surprising he should slip your mind.”
    â€œOh, you mean that insufferable Royal Society agent?” Eliza waved carelessly. “Decidedly an improper gentleman, and certainly doesn’t belong to me.”
    â€œHe could do. Taking your sweet time, aren’t you?” Mrs. Poole bustled around, assaulting invisible dust. “Dashing officer with prospects and a fortune, pleasing to look at, knows words of more than one syllable. Even you ought to be satisfied with that. He won’t wait forever.”
    â€œWhat a shame. Perhaps you should marry him.”
    â€œI might, if you dilly-dally much longer.” Mrs. Poole dusted Hipp’s head, eliciting an indignant squeak. “Oh, your newlodger arrived. Miss Burton. Pleasant girl, three shillings a week. I believe she’ll do nicely.”
    Eliza’s heart sank. Renting out the spare third-floor rooms was better than selling furniture or pawning her mother’s jewels. But it still smacked of professional failure. And what if this Miss Burton noticed Lizzie’s comings and goings? What if Lizzie . . . interfered?
    She forced a smile. She needed to pay Mrs. Poole and Molly. Decision made. “Excellent. Whatever should I do without you?”
    â€œReplace me with one of those brass monstrosities? Why, just the other day, the Bistlethwaites at number twenty-five bought a clockwork butler. Let poor Mr. Simkins go after thirty-four years. He’ll never find another situation at his age.”
    â€œPoor fellow. It’s awful that people are losing their jobs. Still, the technology is marvelous. One must admire progress.”
    A doubtful sniff. “Will you be dining early, Doctor?”
    â€œNo, thank you. I’ve work to do.”
    â€œJust as well. A patient’s waiting in your consulting room.”
    Eliza gaped, stunned. “Why didn’t you say something?”
    â€œI just did.” Mrs. Poole dusted on, as if the news were of no import. “Weren’t you expecting anyone?”
    â€œYou know perfectly well I was not.” She’d not had a patient in weeks. Not since the Chopper case, when her name had yet again made the newspapers connected with murderers and escaped lunatics. Once was tantalizing, worthy of gossip. Twice was merely bad manners. She’d devolved from dashing heroine into wicked lady of loose morals and rampant laudanum addiction, probably a poisoner and a suffragette toboot. One particularly garish publication had labeled her “Madam Murder.”
    Hastily, Eliza dusted her muddy skirts and shoved loose hair into its pins. “What’s her name? Has she been waiting long? Oh, never mind. How do I look? Shall I impress?”
    A cursory glance. “I suppose you’ll do.”
    â€œA fountain of confidence, as ever.” Nervously, Eliza grinned. “Wish me luck.”
    â€œWouldn’t waste it on you.”
    She gulped a steadying breath and opened the door.
    Her consulting room was blessedly tidy. Writing desk by the window, medical books lined neatly on tall shelves. On the big rosewood table sat a vase of fresh-scented freesias. Tiny arc-lamps glowed in sconces, and a small coal fire burned. By the low sofa, a velvet-shaded lamp