13
Mary
James seemed mad. What did he want from her? Mary frowned and kept walking, trying to make her entire posture seem controlled. Everything about him was erratic. First he tries to leave without a word to her. She'd been waiting for him to say something the entire ride, and the more that he didn't, the more frustrated it made her.
Then they arrive, and he wants to know where her hotel is, like he was her keeper? How could one man frustrate her so? Every other thing he did only served to render the thing before it meaningless. She needed him, she knew. And she wanted him. But that didn't mean she had to like him, did it? If it did, he was making it awfully difficult.
It had been years since Mary had been to the hotel, not long after they had first started to keep the room, but remembering where it was seemed natural, and she didn't have to stop for directions once. Of course, when she got close it became easier and easier to remember, and then the letters over the door told her that she'd found the right place.
A doorman held the door for her and she stepped in. A boy came in a uniform and took her bag from her, and followed her up to the desk. She came up to the desk and waited only a moment.
"Can I help you, ma'am?"
"Yes, I'm Mary Geis, my family keeps a room here?"
He looked at her a moment before nodding, and looked down at the counter in front of him. She could see him running his finger down a page, and then a second, and then his brow furrowed.
That was a bad sign.
He turned to the young man standing beside him, and whispered something. Then he smiled at her reassuringly, and the other fellow walked off hurriedly.
That was just as bad.
Mary wished they would just tell her what the problem was, surely it was all a mistake that they could resolve easily. After all, her family had kept a room here, all paid and accounted-for since it opened. She had personally met Otto Goring.
"It'll be just one moment, there seems to have been some sort of confusion."
Mary bit her lip and tried not to lose her temper. She knew that she had a bad habit of becoming incensed when things didn't turn out exactly the way she had wanted, and she could feel the anger rising up in the pit of her belly. What sort of incompetent fools were these?
Someone came over, in a finely-tailored suit and was immediately pointed over to her.
"What's the issue here, Brian?"
"Well, sir—this is Mary Geis. The Geis family has one of our Belgravia suites, and, ah..."
Brian made a gesture at the counter, tapping it to show what he was pointing at. The manager leaned over to look, and then pursed his lips. Then he stood and put on a masking smile.
"Ah, Miss Geis, so wonderful to have you here. Your family has had a long relationship with our hotel, and we are glad to have you staying. There seems to have been some sort of mix-up, though—the room is occupied, you see. Perhaps you and your uncle made plans for the same weekend?"
Mary blanched. Her uncle wasn't supposed to be here. He was in Belgium. She tried to cover her surprise as best she could.
"I'm sorry, my uncle is here?"
"Ah, no. I'm sorry, I wasn't clear." She had to stop herself from letting out an audible sigh. "Your uncle's man is here, on business. We had a letter signed by Mr. Oliver Geis himself granting him use of the room. Only for two nights, but the room won't be available until he checks out tomorrow, you see, so..."
Mary looked at him levelly, and tried to decide what the right approach would be. The anger was mixing with worry in her stomach.
"So just give me another room," she said. "There's been a mistake, I can't be held to account for it."
The manager winced and then went back to smiling at her, and she could see that he wasn't going to give it to her.
"I'm sorry, Miss—"
"Thank you for your time," she cut off. "I'll stay with friends for the night, and be back when the room is vacant."
The man in front of her visibly deflated, and his smile widened just a little.
"Thank you very much for your understanding, Miss Geis. I hope that this confusion hasn't hurt your view of our humble establishment. I know Mr. Goring has had a long-standing relationship with your family, and I hope that can continue going forward."
"Thank you, sir."
She started walking out, and the boy followed her to the door. Then she took the bag back and started walking. She'd never been to Lisson Grove, and only been in Westminster a handful of times. With any luck, she thought, she'd happen across his address, but it didn't seem very likely.
Asking after it was a last resort. Until then, she'd wander, and with some luck someone she knew would find her. She started north.
Hyde Park provided a wonderful distraction, and a welcome chance to find a bench and rest her tiring legs. She was nearly giving up hope when she heard a familiar voice call out.
"Miss Geis?"
She turned to look. That was Davis's voice. What on earth was he doing in London? He lived in Dover. She'd met his wife and sons, knew the street he lived on.
"Davis? What are you doing here?"
"Ah, I knew it was you! What a surprise." He smiled and stood at a respectable distance.
"Davis, maybe you can help me. I'm looking for someplace, and..." she shook her head and made a face. "I don't know London very well, perhaps you could direct me?"
"I can do my best, ma'am, but where are you hoping to go?"
"Do you know where Lisson Grove is?"
She saw something in his eyes, and it made her uneasy. He knew where she was going. She tried to write it off—he was concerned for her, or perhaps there was a bit of judgment.
But it wasn't. She'd known Davis for nearly all of her twenty years. He was a fixture in her family. And in that time, he'd been one of the gentlest men she knew, short only of her father. But what she saw in his eyes was a foreign hardness. He hadn't been judging her, he'd been taking her into account.
"Yes, of course. I can take you there, if you like."
She realized, with a sick feeling in her stomach, that she wouldn't like. She'd trusted him before, but now she was beginning to wonder, and she needed time away from him if she was going to rebuild that trust. Time to write off his behavior. Even now, her brain worked overtime to explain away his strange, off-balance expression.
"No, that's alright. I just need directions, and I'll be back on my way."
He picked up her bag. "Don't be absurd, Miss Geis. I was just on my way there now."
She wanted to get away, and she wanted to get away now. Perhaps she was mistaken. She hoped that she was mistaken. But it seemed that the more time passed, the less she could trust her old servant Davis. He seemed menacing, now, looming over her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
But he had her bag. If she was mistaken, he'd be hurt. If she weren't, she was now entirely without luggage, and her identity papers were in that bag. If she asked for the bag back, he would know that she doubted him. She tried to force a smile onto her cheeks.
"Of course, then it's no issue at all. Lead on."
He helped her up with his free hand and then started down the street.
They spoke pleasantries as a rule, and walked at a respectable distance. For all the world, she could see nothing of the man she'd been afraid of a moment ago.
A voice called out, and when she looked she could see James walking towards the both of them.
"Miss Geis," he started, obviously unsure. "Is anything amiss?"
"There's been some confusion with the hotel," she said. She was acutely aware that somewhere in the city, someone working for her uncle was roaming around. Davis seemed a likely, if worrying, candidate, and it stung in the back of her mind.
"Well, of course you can use my flat. I can get a room for the night." He paused a long moment. "If that's not a problem."
"Oh, no," she said softly. James took the bag from Davis, though he didn't offer it. Clearly he had an issue with this plan, but he didn't voice it. "Oh, Davis. Where were you staying? Maybe James can stay with you, I'm sure you know a good place."
There was a crinkle in the corner of his eyes that made her doubt, and then he said, softly, "Oh—I'm staying with friends, ma'am."