Who: Gabriel Allen, Zipporah Bakst, Bertram Eden, NPC Matthew Hill, NPC James Percy What: An unorthodox autopsy Where: Black Park When: 3rd August, 1888, mid-morning Ratings/Warnings: PG; corpses
It was an unlikely band of investigators that arrived at Black Park around mid-morning on a Thursday. In addition to Bertie, who was only a trainee (if a thorough and diligent one), there was James Percy, who had no connection to the Night Watch, apart from haunting the office and listening in on conversations, and Miss Bakst, who had even less credibility, but had agreed to transport Jamie, so she was essential to the plan. Gabriel Allen, sometime unofficial translator and charmer of French police officers, had gone on ahead to speak with Matthew and warn him of their arrival, leaving London at the same time Bertie and Miss Bakst had stopped in to collect Jamie.
"You're certain you're comfortable," Bertie pressed, fretting still over Jamie's health, which was quite good for someone who technically had none left to speak of. "No dizziness, or feeling of...fading, anything like that?
“Bertie, stop fussing,” Jamie replied firmly, which Bertie couldn’t help but notice didn’t answer his questions. Jamie was distracted, though, looking up at the trees, and the clouds above them. “I’ve missed the sky.”
He sounded wistful, which made Bertie glance briefly toward the locket around Miss Bakst’s neck, which currently held the spell permitting Jamie’s limited freedom. He knew better than to suggest - or even think - that this should become a regular thing, if Miss Bakst could teach Bertie the spell; he could only hope that Jamie didn’t grow to resent him for it, or to think of Bertie as his jailer. Bertie didn’t think he could bear that.
“Oh, stop here," he announced, halting just before the boundary line to the property. Bertie might have been following the letter of the law rather than the spirit, in visiting Black Park without directly trespassing on the grounds, but it was in aid of assisting Lord Black’s cause, so he considered the ends worth the means. Their arrival by carriage would have been noted; Bertie only hoped that Mal wasn’t in residence, and Matthew would be the only one to greet them. Encountering Mal here might be straining even the letter of the law.
Matthew was at least the first, Bertie noted in the next minute, and he waved his arms cheerfully and unnecessarily to attract Matthew’s attention, as he and Gabriel were already walking directly toward them.
“Good morning,” Bertie called, once the gentlemen were within hailing distance. “Matth--Mr Hill, thank you for meeting us.” The formal address was one that Matthew deserved by rank, and Bertie wanted to show his respect in front of Gabriel and Miss Bakst. Being in Matthew’s presence was a heady glow second only to Lord Black’s, and Bertie felt settled into himself, more connected to the ground beneath him. Automatically, he turned his head to bare his neck, lowering his eyes and remaining there for a heartbeat to acknowledge Matthew’s leadership.
“Mr Hill,” Bertie said at a more moderated volume, “Please allow me to make introductions. You have met Mr Allen, who has been assisting me with some business for Lord Black; this is Miss Bakst, who is in my employ for the day and comes in friendship, and Mr Percy, a dear friend who has volunteered to help, at no small risk to himself. Miss Bakst, Mr Percy, this is Mr Hill, of the Black Park pack. I beg you show him every courtesy.”
Matthew looked over at Bertie and nodded, his expression a touch more sober than usual. “Mr Eden,” he said, “Miss Bakst, Mr Percy,” he added for good measure. He and Gabriel exchanged a brief look, and he smiled a little as he reached over to clap a broad hand on Bertie’s neck, and shook his hand. “You’ve done us a great service, bein’ here today, on top of followin’ up on the France business. I hope it gets us some answers.”
He tipped his head.
“I’ll take you to him. I’d like t’ be there during, if it don’t mess about with what you’ve got planned.”
Gabriel had wandered over to Zipporah (and, presumably, Jamie) during the exchange, which seemed to be going as well as expected, and he looked over at the witch -- surprisingly young, and undoubtedly pretty, but quite serious looking at the moment. He’d been expecting someone older based on her reputation. His head dipped with a respectful nod as he got closer.
“Miss Bakst,” he said, in a low voice. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting in person. Pleasure.” He raised an eyebrow slightly. “And Mr Percy,” he added, unsure of where he might look, so he chose Zipporah’s shoulder, “I do hope you’re quite alright.”
Zipporah tipped her chin. “Pleased for to be making your acquaintance, Mr Allen,” she said, trying her best to hide her keen curiosity. She’d been wondering about him ever since Chiara had mentioned him off-handedly as the person who’d referred her services, and was surprised to see him in this context, but she knew it’d be something best talked about later, and her current business was far more pressing -- she needed to concentrate on the matter at hand.
Bertie nearly went limp with gratitude at Matthew's touch--a handshake was good manners, but a hand on his neck was a pack-touch, and even if it couldn't carry that full meaning, he had missed it badly.
"Of course," he replied at once. "We won't be disturbing the grave at all, nor I believe Lord Black's--ah, the former Lord Black's--rest. I've been here before and never seen any sign of him, so I'm sure he's at peace, but if he isn't, I can speak with him. I'm sure Mr Allen has explained the plan, but Jamie is simply going to have a look inside the...ah, the coffin," he finished, a little unhappily at the lack of tact--he wasn't sure how well Matthew had been acquainted with Fitzwilliam Swinton, but they had been pack, and Lord Black had been the alpha.
"How do you do, Mr Hill, and Mr Allen, thank you for your introduction," Jamie spoke into the pause, and Bertie half-turned to relay the messages, trying to subtly indicate Jamie's location by reaching out toward Jamie's arm, which was less visible than usual.
"Jamie, you're certain you're well? You're very pale," Bertie observed worriedly.
"I'm in the sunlight," Jamie reminded him. "You can never see us so well out of doors in daylight."
"Yes, of course," Bertie agreed, still a little distracted trying to make out Jamie's features in the light. He finally managed it when Jamie gave him a fond, exasperated look, and Bertie cleared his throat and continued on. He met Gabriel's eyes to share with him a brief, grateful smile for his attention to the incorporeal member of their party.
"Jamie won't disturb anything either, simply look for any evidence which might have been missed, or signs of foul play. Lord Black is not convinced this was an assassination, but he is concerned, which is more than enough reason to look into the matter. I can tell you everything Jamie finds when he returns...oh, and Miss Bakst can corroborate, if I leave anything out," Bertie added as he thought of it. "She can hear him as well."
Bertie hesitated for a moment, but he was here on Lord Black's business, and Matthew had scent-marked him. He tamped down on the need to ask for permission when Matthew had already granted it, and stepped onto the Black Park grounds.
"How is Ned, is he well?" Bertie asked Matthew more quietly as they began to walk. "And Lord Black, is he recovered? I read about the wedding in the papers, I hope he is happy. I'll tell him whatever we find, or don't find, at once, of course, but I didn't want to get his hopes up, or to remind him of past grief when he's newly wed and should be thinking of happier things. Will you have to play nursemaid, should any cubs come of this?" he asked with a grin. "I imagine you would be very good with them."
“Aye, he’s well, I’ll pass along you askin’ after him,” Matthew replied as they walked along the grounds to the small family plot. “And it’s been a month, no mistakin’,” he added, quietly. “It was a small wedding, but a happy one, and I’m glad they didn’t wait none, as th’ lady was otherwise having to live elsewhere, and it’s a bloody miracle they waited as long as they did. Pardon,” he added, reflexively. “And God willing,” he added, a flash of a grin spreading across his face. “Can’t come soon enough, far as I’m concerned.”
“His stiffness is gone,” he added, looking over at Bertie, “and he’s quite happily wed, but this business, it’s a weight, and the sooner sorted the better. If this is part of it,” he frowned, and shook his head. “Well. Don’t know if it’ll lighten th’ load, but we need to know what we’re up against.”
As they walked along the lawn, the three of them trailing a little behind Matthew and Bertie, Gabriel offered Zipporah an arm, which she took, gratefully. It wasn’t as draining as she’d feared, but it still took a fair degree of concentration, and Mr Eden’s hovering had only made it clearer how much was at stake should this particular spirit come to harm.
“You’re quite a good friend for providing such a service, Mr Percy,” Gabriel said quietly. “And it’s patently clear that Mr Eden thinks very highly of you.”
"It can be difficult to see and hear everything going on in a police station, but not to be able to do anything about it. Mr Eden and I are able to help one another be more useful," Jamie replied, adding, "Bertie," more loudly when Bertie, distracted by his discussion with Matthew, was late to translate.
Bertie quickly related the reply, and contributed, "It's a bit like having an unofficial partner, I suppose. Jamie - Mr Percy - hears everything, and he and I can talk through it and decide our course of action. Which isn't why he's here today--this is above and beyond the call of duty, but I'm afraid my efforts to find a suitable coroner bore no fruit."
Bertie was glad for the diversion, as the notion of Lord Black and Lady Stanbury being so hot for one another that they could hardly wait for matrimony had made a flush rise on the back of his neck, and he could think of no reply at all.
Having fallen back slightly to facilitate Jamie's conversation, Bertie took in Miss Bakst leaning slightly against Gabriel and frowned, trying - pointlessly - not to worry further. "Are you well, Miss Bakst?" he asked, transferring his concern neatly from Jamie to their magical associate.
"I'm sure your acting as a mother hen will improve her condition greatly," Jamie remarked, still watching the skyline.
"I'm not repeating that," Bertie told him, though he was aware that keeping a conversation private in company was ill-mannered.
"It doesn't matter," Jamie said, turning a rare smile on Miss Bakst. "She can hear me. Maybe we'll just start gossiping about you."
“Hm,” Zipporah replied, shaking her head. She waved her free hand. “There is no need for to be a chicken,” she said, to Bertie. “I am concentrating, is all. So please be forgiving my lack of conversation.” She looked over to Jamie, tilting her head. “I am praying to do right by you,” she said, quietly.
She felt a little exposed, to be honest -- due to her need for her full concentration, and her concern Ach would see Jamie as a possible threat, she’d left him back at the house, under very precise and firm orders to stay put until her return, and her Auntie had agreed to keep an eye just in case.
She was also lacking her usual charms and wards -- her hamsa, her red knotted string around her wrist, and it was a little disconcerting to be so… open.
When Gabriel gave her arm a bit of a pat, she looked over at him, narrowing her eyes a bit.
He was beautiful, very nearly to the point of it being utterly ridiculous, but his arm was warm, so he wasn’t like the Lady di Palermo, and… she scowled a bit at the distraction, and he laughed a little, but didn’t engage her in conversation, for which she was grateful.
On seeing Gabriel's solicitous attentions to Miss Bakst, and knowing very well how it felt to be the focus of them, Bertie laughed and quickly turned his attention forward before his reason for it should be found out.
What he had heard, however, stayed with him as they reached the family tomb, and Bertie made certain to end up beside Miss Bakst when they came to a halt. "I thank you, for the care you are showing him," he confided quietly. "And the respect. I hope you know that my concern is only due to my own nature, and not in doubt of you or your work."
"Stop distracting her," Jamie chided him, stepping forward toward the tomb. "You can make amends afterward."
"Jamie says to stop distracting her," Bertie repeated to Gabriel, straight-faced, and only managed it for a moment before Jamie made a rude noise that caused him to break into a grin.
"You know full-well I meant you. Shall I go in?" Jamie looked back, and Bertie nodded, holding his breath in spite of knowing it would make no difference.
"He's going to go in now, and look around," Bertie explained, for Matthew and Gabriel's benefit, as Jamie disappeared from sight. Bertie's anxiety doubled, though of course it was only Jamie looking into the coffin. Bertie shuddered a little at that thought. It was not a job he would have wanted, being closed up in the dark with a rotting corpse, examining it in the close, stale air for signs of foul play amid the natural decay.
He swallowed, and resolved to think no more on that subject, lest he revisit his breakfast or draw enough sudden inspiration for what would be quite morbid poetry. He had one of his notebooks on him, but now was not the time nor place to meditate on mortality.
Jamie reappeared as suddenly as he'd vanished, and Bertie spoke only a half-beat after him as he'd promised Matthew, repeating everything faithfully almost as quickly as Jamie said it. "There's something in the coffin with him. Small, silver, very thin, this long," Bertie held up his fingers to mirror Jamie's, "looks like it might be part of a knife blade or the tip of something like it, like a sword or a letter opener."
Bertie broke off his translation to ask quickly, "Jamie, could you help me to draw it in exact size and shape? If you could give us the dimensions, I believe I can extrapolate more of the blade, if it is such."
"I should think so," Jamie agreed, and Bertie took out his notebook, kneeling on the grass to spread it open and carefully sketch the silver point Jamie described in detail.
"Could this have been placed in the coffin with him at the funeral?" Bertie asked, offering the notebook to Matthew for inspection. "A tradition of some sort? Something meaningful that an acquaintance would have wished him to be buried with?"
"I don't think that's its provenance," Jamie said somberly. "It's embedded in his skull."
Even though they'd been looking for foul play, the fact of it shocked Bertie into silence. He blinked finally, hearing the pregnant pause of those around him waiting, and looked to Miss Bakst. "He says..." Bertie swallowed before continuing. "He says he believes Lord Black's suspicions may have been correct."
"Skull, Bertie," Jamie repeated firmly, which was the spur Bertie needed to blurt out the rest of it, word for word, eyes downcast so that he wouldn't yet have to look on Matthew's expression. It was devastating news, when they hoped to set Lord Black's fears at ease.
Matthew went white and crossed himself, and while he’d been relatively subdued and sombre throughout, this was the first time he’d looked genuinely shocked.
“Good God in Heaven,” he said, quietly. He looked back towards the house, his jaw set and his hand clenching the notepad at his side.
Zipporah, meanwhile, had decided it would be best to sit cross-legged on the ground while the spirit she was carrying ventured into the tomb -- standing still was not particularly helpful at the moment -- so she’d plumped down without much fuss and was quietly praying during Jamie’s venture. The mild uproar that followed his revelations made her screw her eyes shut and mouth her prayer to keep her focus.
Gabriel was looking back and forth between the members of the group he could see -- Zipporah was currently bristling like a hedgehog, and looked like she decidedly didn’t want to be bothered, and while he’d had a lovely morning cup of tea and conversation with Matthew, he was hardly familiar enough with the man to presume. So he settled with shifting a little closer to Bertie as a sign of support, and keeping quiet for the time being.
After a minute, Matthew exhaled.
“Thank you, Mr Percy,” he said, nodding his head. “All of you,” he added, running a broad hand across his face. “I trust… I’ll be telling Lord Black m’self,” he said, “and you’ll be tellin’ the Night Watch, I’d reckon,” he added, to Bertie, “but this…” he shook his head. “This needs t’stay quiet otherwise,” he said, quietly.
Gabriel looked over at the beta of Black Park, his expression serious. “Of course, Mr Hill,” he said. “I think I speak for all of us when I say that we were brought here understanding the need for discretion. I won’t talk of this with anyone.”
Zipporah continued mouthing her prayer, but she nodded her head in agreement.
Bertie hesitated a long moment before saying, "I have been looking into this case for Lord Black more or less unofficially, as a private matter. While I'm sure Lord Black would wish to proceed through official channels, in this case the evidence cannot be confirmed and examined without an exhumation. I could..." Bertie cleared his throat, avoiding the eyes of the others. "I could wait until the end of the day tomorrow, to gather my thoughts, before making a report. Should Lord Black have anything to say on the matter, I will honour his wishes."
There was every chance Lord Black would still wish to make this an official investigation, rather than keeping it quiet and pursuing the matter privately, but by requesting an exhumation himself, without mentioning Bertie's involvement, there might be less complication. The case would go to a senior investigator, and no breath of possible mishandling would corrupt it. Bertie wasn't entirely certain what his superiors would have to say about Bertie's involvement of a ghost, a witch, and a personal friend whose acquaintance Bertie had recently made in a churchyard, but he couldn't imagine it would be anything good.
"I have promised Miss Bakst a meal to recover her strength," Bertie said, looking to Gabriel. "You would be welcome to join us." He finally turned to Matthew, swallowing grief on the man's behalf. He couldn't imagine what Matthew felt, upon hearing Jamie's news. "I would wish to be better company and include you in the invitation, but by the look of things, it might be gentler on Miss Bakst if we could make haste back to the office, and dine after. I don't wish to tax her further."
Jamie had gone unaccustomedly silent and somber, hovering near Miss Bakst with a small frown, though Bertie couldn't tell if it was due to the spell, the woman's silent chanting, or what he'd discovered in the tomb. Bertie wanted to offer his hand, and possibly take Gabriel's as well, but they had other matters to attend to.
Matthew frowned. “Understood,” he said, after a pause. “I’ll be sure t’ have him pass along his wishes on the matter to you direct, as soon as he hears of it.” He shook his head once more, before looking over at Zipporah. “And aye, you do what you must. I wouldn’t have the young Miss Bakst here longern’ she must. Your service is appreciated,” he said to her, and gave Gabriel a quick nod as well.
He paused, considering, before resting a hand on Bertie’s shoulder. “I’d rather we know than not,” he said, quietly. “Thank you, Mr Eden.”
Bertie bowed his head to his beta, making one last formal offering of respect and submission. "It is my privilege to serve the pack, Mr Hill," he said quietly. "Thank you for letting us come."