Page 60 of The Detective and the Baroness

Corrine would have to ask Mitchell to go to Wimpole Street to retrieve the money, for she would not cross that threshold again. What would she do without Mitchell? All he had ever done was offer assistance, comfort, and protection. Independent she might be, but having him as her stalwart support meant the world to her.

Once in the lower yard, she slipped through the rear entrance. The hallway was lit, so she called out, “Drew? Mitchell?”

“In here,” a voice called out. It sounded like Drew. “We are in my study, three doors down on your right.”

Both men stood when she entered the room.

“Good evening. I am unsure of the time.” She smiled, removing her cape.

Mitchell assisted her, the brush of his hands across her shoulders sending her heart tumbling. “It is fifteen minutes past six. Did you manage to sleep?”

“I did. What a comfortable bed and cozy rooms. Thank you, Drew, for allowing me to stay here. It may be several weeks.”

“Stay as long as you like. Mr. Dobson sent me a ten-pound note this afternoon for your rent. Very generous. He also included another ten for your incidentals, food, dishes, and the like. What can I get you to drink before dinner?”

Mitchell escorted her to the leather sofa and sat beside her.

“Do you have sherry?” she asked.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Drew replied. “I recently added a few choice spirits and liquors to my sparse cupboard.” He strolled over to his cabinet, opened the doors, and located the bottle of sherry. Taking a crystal glass from the shelves above, he poured a generous amount and then handed it to her. “Mitchell and I were discussing Christmas when you came in.”

“Oh, good heavens. I nearly forgot,” Corrine murmured as she sipped the sherry.

“We would be honored if you joined us for a holiday meal,” Drew said, smiling.

“Nothing too elaborate,” Mitchell interjected. “Mrs. Evans will cook a turkey and a few side dishes on the twenty-fourth. All we will need to do is reheat it. Drew and I have become experts at doing that.”

Corrine smiled. “I am also proficient at reheating. Between the three of us, we can manage it. I would love to join you.” Her smile slipped away. “It seems so strange to smile and talk of holidays and festive dinners with Travis at the morgue.”

Mitchell took her hand and squeezed it assuredly. “It is, no matter the circumstances. Saying life goes on sounds rather odious, in light of recent events, but it is the truth. What also came from Mr. Dobson, besides the money, is a letter to you.” Mitchell released her hand, then took the sealed note from the table and gave it to her.

Corrine broke the seal and scanned the contents. “How very swift and efficient. The funeral will be in three days, on the twenty-second. There will be no wake. There will be a hearse with four horses decked out in plumes of ostrich feathers, along with two mourning coaches, ten men marching alongside acting as pages. There will be a brief, private funeral service, then the procession to the cemetery, about one and a half miles from the church. Tradition says I am not to attend the graveside burial, but as Mr. Dobson states, many mid-century traditions are not always followed now.”

“Who will be attending the service?” Drew asked.

“Mr. Dobson says he will be there, as will Mr. Chambers. And myself. That is it. Because of the murder, Mr. Dobson suggested we not turn the funeral into a possible gawking spectacle. Though I suppose curious onlookers will watch the procession. I must buy a black mourning gown as soon as possible.”

“This is just a suggestion, but perhaps you should send word to your brother to cut his business meeting short so he can be at your side through the funeral service and burial. It would not look appropriate if Drew and I attended.”

“I will do that first thing in the morning. Yes, Jeffery should come home.” Corrine folded the note and laid it on the table.

“And your father?” Mitchell murmured.

“I do not want him there. His support would be all for show, as he has never given me any facilitation before. I cannot abide hypocrisy.”

Drew stood. “Allow me to check on dinner. Nothing too elaborate, a beef stew.”

“That sounds delicious,” Corrine said, sighing.

Drew left them alone.

Corrine turned to face Mitchell. “I have a favor to ask. There are over ninety pounds in the sitting room desk drawer at Wimpole Street. Can you retrieve it for me? Travis gave me the money about three weeks ago.”

“I will go first thing in the morning.”

“The key is in my jewelry box in my room, not that I have much in the way of jewelry. I managed to hide a few brooches that belonged to my mother from my father. He sold the rest over the years. The key is located under the shelf within the box. I will write a note you can show Thomason to allow you into the room. Hopefully, they haven’t packed it yet.”

“A note is a good idea. Would you like me to contact the bank where your brother is employed? They can get word to him sooner.”