In the meantime, here are the first chapters of my new book. I have even signed it. I thought it might be an appropriate Hogmanay gift for Dr. Gray’s sister.
All the brightest blessings in the new year. May 1870 be wonderful for you both.
Faithfully yours,
Charles Dickens
I stare at the letter as my eyes fill. Then I hand the papers to Gray and go to look out the window over the rear gardens.
“Mallory?” Gray says, his voice soft. “Are you all right?”
“I am overcome by his kindness, that is all.”
His hand closes on my elbow, making me jump, but I don’t turn.
“That is not all,” he murmurs.
I shake my head.
“Mr. Dickens will not be taking us to dinner next year, will he?” Gray’s voice is so soft that it breaks the dam, tears flowing even as I wipe them away.
“I wondered if that was it,” Gray says. “You were very kind when we spoke to him, but I could tell something was wrong. When he spoke about his new book, you... seemed distressed. I did not know whether to speak of it again later. I realize there are things you know that... we should not.”
I nod, still looking out the window.
“Might we talk of it?” he murmurs. “Since I have figured it out for myself?”
I hesitate, and then I turn. “I didn’t know until he mentioned what he was writing, and then I realized what it was and that he’ll never finish it and...”
Gray pulls me into a hug. It’s a careful movement, gently tugging me and checking for any resistance. I let myself fall onto his shoulder, and he pats my back, a little awkwardly.
“I’m overreacting,” I say.
“Not at all.”
“I don’t know Mr. Dickens beyond his work. I shouldn’t be so rattled by knowing he’s going to die soon. I just...” I take a deep breath and blurt, “It reminds me of watching the hanging.”
I expect him to ask how, but he only nods and says, “You see a living person and know they’re going to die.”
“Which happened with my nan, too. I knew she was dying. I was there when she did. But it felt different. I helped put someone on the gallows and watched her die. Saw her speak, knowing she would be dead in a few minutes. She was a horrible person, but still...”
“Yes.”
After I’d gone to the execution, Gray told me that he’d accompanied McCreadie to a couple, when McCreadie had to stand as witness. Like me, he thought he’d been prepared, and then discovered he wasn’t.
“And Mr. Dickensisn’ta horrible person,” I say. “He didn’t kill anyone. But somehow, because I know he’s dying soon, I feel as if I’m responsible. It wasn’t like that with my nan.”
“Because in Mr. Dickens’s case, you possess knowledge no one else does.”
“I can’t stop his death,” I say. “In case you’re wondering.”
“I would never wonder that,” he says softly.
“It’s a stroke. Maybe he already feels poorly and that’s why he’s retiring from the performances.” I glance at the letter. “So, yes, that has been weighing on my mind, and I apologize if I’ve been testy.”
His lips quirk. “If you were, I presumed I gave you cause, as usual.”
He sobers and steps back. “In this case, Ididgive you cause, and I would like to apologize for that. I insisted on hearing Lady Inglis out regarding the case, and then I snapped at your every attempt to make the situation easier for me.”
