1895 Story. Murdoch Mysteries.

Chapter 6: Proving Herself

EVELYN

As the investigation continued, I could feel the weight of doubt pressing down on me. The room was filled with laughter and chatter, and despite the vibrant atmosphere, I sensed that my presence was being underestimated. It was frustrating—after all, I had traveled through time, and yet here I was, struggling to be taken seriously.

"Evelyn, maybe you should stick to organizing the notes," Thomas Brackenreid suggested, a teasing smirk on his face as he leaned against the wall. "Leave the heavy lifting to the gentlemen."

I clenched my fists, trying to maintain my composure. "With all due respect, Inspector, I believe I can contribute just as much as anyone else here. Gender shouldn't dictate our abilities."

"Oh, I agree," he replied, his tone mockingly light. "But if you were in a crisis, wouldn't you prefer a man to back you up?"

"That's a stereotype," I shot back, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "I can hold my own just as well as any man here. Perhaps better!"

Brackenreid chuckled. "You're certainly spirited. I admire that. But let's not kid ourselves. The field of detective work has traditionally been a man's domain."

"I'm aware of that," I said sharply. "But that doesn't mean I won't prove you wrong."

DAVID

I watched the exchange between Evelyn and Inspector Brackenreid, feeling a mix of admiration and concern. Evelyn was passionate, and I loved that about her, but Brackenreid's comments seemed to hit a nerve. "Evelyn, don't let him get to you," I said softly, stepping closer. "You're doing great."

"Thanks, David," she replied, her voice firm. "But I need to show him that I'm not just a pretty face. I want to solve this case and earn my place alongside you all."

As the gathering continued, I could see Evelyn's determination radiating. She was going to find a clue that would turn the tide. I admired her spirit but also worried about the pressure she was placing on herself.

EVELYN

Determined to prove my worth, I began to circulate among the guests, engaging them in conversation. I listened intently, trying to catch any mention of the missing mirror. While others mingled, I focused on the small details—the nervous glances, the whispered conversations. I had to find something.

I spotted a woman standing alone by a window, her gaze distant. I approached her, introducing myself. "I couldn't help but notice you seem a bit preoccupied. Is everything alright?"

"Oh, it's nothing," she replied, glancing away. "Just contemplating the absurdity of society's expectations."

"Interesting perspective," I said, intrigued. "What do you mean?"

She hesitated, then sighed. "The pressure to be perfect, to conform. Sometimes, I think people are more concerned with appearances than the truth."

"Exactly," I responded, sensing an opportunity. "Have you seen anything unusual during the gathering? Perhaps someone acting out of character?"

She raised an eyebrow, as if considering my words. "Well, now that you mention it, there was one man. He seemed... overly interested in Lord Strathmore's collection, particularly the mirror. It was as if he were trying to gauge its value."

"Do you remember his name?" I asked, heart racing. This could be a lead!

"I believe it was... James, or something similar. He was quite charming, but something about him felt off," she said, biting her lip as if recalling an unsettling memory.

"Thank you," I said, eager to follow up on this lead. "I appreciate your honesty."

DAVID

Evelyn's interactions were impressive, and I could see her confidence building. "You really have a knack for this," I said, grinning as we stepped away from the crowd. "Maybe I should take notes."