Free Victorian Maiden by Gary Dolman Page A

fatigue.” Atticus said.
    â€œBattle fatigue!”
    Roberts’ expression changed in an instant from weariness, to thoughtfulness, to downright exultation.
    â€œYou said that, Mrs Fox: that she suffers from battle fatigue? Ye gods, that’s brilliant! I never thought to describe it that way. You’re quite correct, of course; Aunt Elizabeth’s experiences, traumatic experiences all of them, reinforced by a lifetime in the workhouse, have indeed caused her to suffer a kind of battle fatigue. I’ll tell the police exactly that. Mrs Fox, you must tell them that too, and be sure to tell them that you are a nurse, a trained nurse… Battle fatigue, yes, of course.”
    The silence that followed was interrupted by a gentle knock on the open door. It was Petty, the butler.
    â€œExcuse me sir, but I have two policemen from the West Yorkshire Constabulary here to see you; a Detective Inspector Douglas, and Detective Sergeant Hainsworth.”
    â€œIndeed you have, Dr Roberts, and with respect, sir, we should have been called for hours ago,” said a disembodied voice from the corridor beyond Petty.
    Then, without waiting to be shown in, two large and stocky men pushed past the butler and strutted into the room. Their entrance mirrored the inflection in their greeting, which was aggressive, disdainful and sneering.
    The first’s eyes darted around the room, appraising everything. They lingered for a second or two on Lucie, and then finally came to rest on Atticus and Dr Roberts.
    â€œI am Detective Inspector Douglas; which of you gentlemen is Dr Michael Roberts?” he asked of the space somewhere between them.
    The doctor made as if to rise from his chair but Douglas ignored him, fixing his glare instead on Atticus.
    â€œAnd you are?”
    â€œFox, Atticus Fox, of A & L Fox, commissioned investigators,” Atticus said, completing the sentence for him. “And this lady is my wife.”
    â€œUpon my soul,” Douglas exclaimed, the sneer in his tone rank and unmistakable. “Detective Sergeant, it would seem that we’re in the esteemed company of none other than the noted A and L Fox; Harrogate’s very own commissioned investigators.”
    â€œAre we indeed?” the sergeant replied, taking up the game enthusiastically. “Now that’s a treat, and no mistake.”
    â€œIsn’t it?” Douglas agreed. “So that would explain why Dr Roberts took so long to send for us. Upon my honour, Sergeant, I wonder why he bothered to send for us at all. No doubt Mr and Mrs Fox will have the whole case sewn up already, with the murderer on the gallows, prayers said, and all ready to drop.”
    The detective inspector chuckled mirthlessly at his own wit, and then stopped laughing and said: “So why are you here, Mr Atticus Fox, commissioned investigator?”
    Atticus, his heckles up, met Douglas’ stare directly.
    â€œWe are here on Dr Roberts’ express invitation,” he growled. “There was a murder in this house last night, Detective Inspector. The likely perpetrator, a relation of the family as it happens, was traced, contacted and brought here by my wife and me only yesterday. That was our commission, not the investigation of the murder.”
    Douglas stared intently at Atticus for several, long, highly charged seconds, as if sifting his story for flaws. He found none.
    â€œI am very pleased to hear it, Mr Fox. Reuniting missing relatives is what you people should be used for, and nothing more.”
    He held Atticus in a silent battle of wills for a few moments longer before turning his attention to Roberts.
    â€œNow, Doctor, perhaps you can tell us exactly what happened here last night.”
    As he and the sergeant settled themselves comfortably side-by-side on one of the nearby chaises longues, Roberts licked his lips and darted a pleading glance to Atticus.
    â€œMay I?” Atticus began.
    â€œNo, you most