Page 10 of Disturbing the Dead
See this feminist? See how pinched and unattractive she is? Of course she’s a champion of women’s rights—she can’t win a man to take care of her.
Except this young woman is neither pinched nor unattractive. She seems to be intentionally dressing this way, and I’m not sure whether it’s a uniform of sorts, or it’s just a way to deflect attention from her looks.
Sometimes, it’s easier to be taken seriously if you pull on a cloak of sexual unattractiveness. Unfortunately for me, that’s a whole lot harder to do these days, cast into the body of a shapely blond twenty-year-old with the face of an angelic milkmaid.
The young woman disappears from view once McCreadie cuts in front of us, but not before she sees our group heading her way, and her eyes flash like a hawk spotting mice.
“You there,” she says, the clacking of boots telling me she’s bearing down on us.
“Yes, hello,” McCreadie calls back. “I heard a commotion and came to see if you were in need of aid.” He takes off his hat, bowing his head. “Detective Hugh McCreadie of the—”
“You’re going to this party, Detective?” she cuts in.
“That is my intention, along with—”
“Then I want Sir Alastair arrested. There are laws against disturbing the dead.”
“Ah, I presume you refer to the—”
“You do not think it counts? Because the deceased is not a Scot?”
“Perhaps,” Gray says, his voice low with warning, “you might let Detective McCreadie finish a sentence before deciding what he does and does not mean?”
“Oh, you wish me to be polite, is that it? Being polite gets us nowhere. The only language your sort understand—”
As she catches sight of Gray, she stops. Her mouth works. Then she finds her voice.
“You are here, Dr. Gray? I would have hoped for better, though I suppose that is foolish of me. You are not known for speaking out against injustice. Better to hide behind your family name and pretend you have nothing in common with the poor man whose corpse they are about to defile.”
“Defiling requires cutting into it,” Gray says, his voice mild now that the rudeness is directed at him. “I do so all the time with men—and women—of every sort. I am an equal-opportunity ghoul.”
His smile is all teeth and no humor, and the young woman pauses again. She finds her mental footing quickly, though, and says, “This is not the same, and you know it. This is an outrage perpetrated against a man ripped from foreign soil and brought here for the amusement of bored toffs.”
“I would agree,” Gray says.
Pause. Pause. Her eyes flash as she tries to regroup. Then she thrusts her chin up. “You agree, and yet you do nothing.”
“I do something. I attend to ensure the proceedings are as respectful as possible.”
“Look,” I say. “I understand this upsets you, but I’m not sure who you think you’re going to convince.”
I wave at a well-dressed couple sneaking into the party behind her, taking advantage of her distraction.
“Them?” I say. “Those other ones back there?” I motion to the queue of coaches as Annis and Isla exit theirs. “They don’t care. If you want to have an impact when you do this sort of thing, you need a public record of it. Alert the press. Raise a fuss where it can be heard.”
“Yes,” Isla murmurs as she reaches us. “I know you are upset, Miss King, but this display will not achieve what you intend.”
The young woman looks sharply at Isla. “Do we know each other?”
“I follow news of the Edinburgh Seven most keenly,” Isla says. “I supported your fight to be admitted to medical school, and I am delighted that you won it. I have heard Miss Jex-Blake speak, and I am thrilled at what she—what you all—have accomplished.”
“You supported our victory? Odd that I have not seen you before. Ah, you quietly supported us, yes? From the safety of your drawing room?”
Isla flinches. I know why she doesn’t more actively support the Seven. Poking her head over that parapet puts a target on it. She’s a woman in a male occupation, doing backflips to avoid being noticed.
“You are one of the Seven?” Annis says, moving forward. “Then convey my words of appreciation to the illustrious Miss Jex-Blake. I do not understand why anyone would wish to practice medicine, but I support her right to do so. I would advise, however, that she keep you”—a feral smile—“on a shorter leash. Now, come, children, we have a corpse-defiling to attend.”
FOUR
