Chapter Eight
After his humiliating collapse the day before, Benedict had been more cautious and circumspect. He’d sat up in bed first. After managing to remain upright for a significant amount of time, he had stood and walked to the window before retreating to the bed and tucking himself back in like the invalid he had been for the last day. All the while, Miss Masters had slept on, blissfully unaware as she curled up in her chair.
She’d talked through the night it seemed, but most of the time he’d been too exhausted and insensible to understand her or take in the details of what she was saying. But he heard something behind her words, something that he responded to on a deep and visceral level. Loneliness. It was something he understood all too well.
Having tested his strength and still finding it lacking, Benedict tamped down his frustration and impatience and returned to his bed. Walking the few paces from the bed to the window and back had left him breathless and exhausted.
A soft knock sounded at the door and then Lady Vale entered. She paused and glanced at Miss Masters’ sleeping form. Then with a vindictive and petty gleam in her eye, she cleared her throat loudly.
Miss Masters let out a startled squeak and sat upright in her chair. “Forgive me, my lady, I must have dozed off.”
It had been more than a doze. At one point, she’d snored. Uncertain of the underlying animosity between the two women and where it was coming from, Benedict wisely kept his thoughts to himself. At this point, he needed Lady Vale’s assistance to locate Mary. Without it, all hope was lost. And Miss Masters… perhaps he didn’t need her, but he did want her. That was an unforeseen complication.
It left him in the very uncomfortable position of swallowing his pride and asking for the help he’d dismissed so carelessly only the day before. “Lady Vale, I must apologize for my less than gracious response yesterday when you offered the assistance of your investigators. It has become clear that I am in no condition to seek Mary’s return myself.”
Lady Vale clasped her hands in front of her and looked down at the carpet. “Mr. Mason, I want you to understand that the fault does not lie with those in my employ, but with my late husband. I was not permitted to hire those investigators to search for you—for my son—while my husband lived. It was more than a decade after my son was taken that he died and I was able to do what was necessary to try to find him—to find you. By then, any leads had grown cold and while most of the villains responsible were identified, they had already been hanged for other crimes and it was too late to question them. That is not the case with your… forgive me, but who is it you seek?”
He’d been reluctant to explain earlier, uncertain of Miss Masters’ curious response and worried that anything he said about how Mary had been brought into the Masons’ care would only further support Lady Vale’s belief about his identity. “My adoptive sister. She was brought into the same home where I was being raised by the Masons when she was a young child of no more than two… her name is Mary and she disappeared after visiting the same house your companion was nearly abducted in front of,” he answered.
Lady Vale appeared taken aback by that. “It appears that we have stumbled into something very dark, indeed. My previous assertion that nothing ever happens in Bath seems both naive and foolish now.” Her earlier animosity forgotten in the wake of such a revelation, she looked at her companion with concern in her gaze. “Miss Masters, you will not leave the house without at least two footmen to accompany you. Not even on your half-day!”
“Yes, my lady,” Miss Masters agreed with a jerky nod. “I had not thought to leave the house for any reason at all, frankly. I find myself quite reluctant to face the dangers outside these walls.”
*
The relief Elizabeth felt at knowing the woman he searched for was a relative and not a lover or a wife was utterly preposterous. She had no claim on him, nor did she want one, Elizabeth told herself. She’d had her brush with scandal in the past and inappropriate gentlemen to boot. It was not a road she meant to travel again. Just because it was impossible to ignore how handsome he was, she reasoned, did not necessitate that she act upon it.
From the first moment her gaze had lit upon him, she’d been unable to deny the fact. But handsome was such a passive thing and, while he’d been unconscious, it had been not easy to ignore, but easier to dismiss. Awake, the fierceness of his personality, the intensity that was simply a part of him, took what had been handsome and now made it compelling, magnetic even. He was invading her thoughts and her senses, as evidenced by the strange fluttering of her pulse whenever he glanced at her. But she was no longer an ignorant girl to be led by such things. She knew precisely what sort of ruin awaited her should she give in to baser feelings. And then there was the other thing, that ephemeral and yet inescapable knowledge that he was not at all what he appeared.
His angelic countenance concealed a hidden darkness in him. She sensed it swirling and eddying under the surface. There was violence in him. She’d seen glimpses of it while he’d lain senseless in the bed from striking his head. Strangely, she did not feel unsafe near him. Quite the opposite.
It wasn’t as if he’d threatened them. In fact, he’d been all that was noble and heroic if his actions were not orchestrated as part of some greater plot. A fact of which she remained unconvinced. Still, awake, aware and on alert, it was easy enough to recognize that he was a dangerous man. They’d brought the fox into the hen house, it seemed.
Lady Vale spoke again. “As for you, Mr. Mason, you cannot leave here… firstly, because you are in no condition to do so and, secondly, because I cannot let you leave without knowing the truth,” Lady Vale said. “I will put all of my resources at your disposal. My investigators are yours to use as you will, at no cost. And I will have Madame Zula and her manservant brought here so that you may question them. Regardless of Miss Masters’ skepticism, I cannot help but feel that Madame Zula was being quite honest when she professed that her skills were real even without the theatrical trappings.”
Elizabeth balked. It was not possible that he just remain indefinitely. Lady Vale was practically giving him carte blanche. Mr. Middlethorp would be furious which would, no doubt, result in her being sacked. More to the point, she couldn’t possibly remain under the same roof with him indefinitely. It was nothing short of a recipe for disaster. Every remaining hint of recklessness and wickedness that lurked within her responded to him in a fashion that was impossible to ignore.
“Lady Vale,” she began, “we can hardly hold the man here against his will. Once he is well enough, I am certain that he would want to be directly involved with the search for his sister!”
Lady Vale nodded. “Of course. And when he’s well enough, he will certainly do so. But how much better would it be to use my home as a base for your operation than to work out of some dingy inn?”
“I thank you, Lady Vale, but I—” he began, but Lady Vale immediately cut him off.
“Please do not reject my offer out of hand. I accept the possibility that you may not be the person I believe you to be,” she admitted tearfully. “But until we’ve exhausted every option, allow me the peace and comfort of that hope. I beg you. Please!”
His expression firmed. The indecision that warred in his gaze did more to soften Elizabeth’s stance on his character than anything else. It was clear that he did not wish to cause Lady Vale undue pain, but it was also just as clear that he was calculating how helpful her offer could be to him. Finally, he said, “I must say that I find the scenario of being your long lost son highly unlikely, but I will consent to remain here and operate my search for Mary from this home. The first course of action will be a meeting with Madame Zula and these investigators of yours. I hardly believe in mystics, but it cannot be coincidence that Mary went missing after having last been seen at that address and that Miss Masters was nearly abducted from the very same spot.”
Lady Vale seated herself on the edge of his bed. It was a very familiar gesture, something that a mother might do with her son. It made Benedict distinctly uncomfortable. He didn’t believe that she was his mother. If the truth were told, he couldn’t allow himself to believe it. But there was also an aching familiarity in the gesture, one that sparked his battered memory and made him question whether or not, at any time in his life, someone had cared enough to sit on the side of his bed and offer him comfort.
“I would ask you questions about your childhood and your adoptive family, Mr. Mason. If you would permit it,” she added softly.
“You may ask any questions you like, madame, but I cannot guarantee that I will answer them.”
She dropped her gaze to her clasped hands resting in her lap. After a short pause as she considered his reply, she gave a jerky nod. “That is fair enough, Mr. Mason. Be truthful with me and if you feel you cannot answer for whatever reason, simply tell me that.”
“Then ask your questions,” he agreed. The reluctance in his voice was quite obvious and he’d already stated once before that he did not wish to discuss his family.
“Do you know about how old you were when they took you? What is your earliest memory of being with them?”
He appeared to be considering his answer very carefully. Finally, after a long while, he said, “I can recall a church where we stayed. We didn’t have a home when we arrived in that village, wherever it was. There was no place to stay that we could afford and my adoptive father sought refuge there until he could find work and secure lodging for us. I remember the vicar guessing my age to be about five or six and asking me if I could read… I could, but only just. So he sat down with me and helped me practice my letters and read from a primer that he had.”
“You could read, but only a little,” Lady Vale answered, “when you were taken from me. You’d been tutored by Mr. Morris and would continue with him until you were old enough and would have moved on to Harrow. It was a tradition in your father’s—in my husband’s family,” she explained. “It’s very unlikely, don’t you think, that the son of a transient or nomadic mason would have learned to read at all by the age of six?”
“It’s unusual,” he agreed. “But it’s hardly proof that I’m the missing son and heir of a viscount.”
Tears glistened in her eyes, “Of course, it isn’t proof. It’s been two decades. Proof is not something I can hope for, when time has changed us both so much. But there is reason enough with that kind of information, with your appearance which is so very similar to my own, with the fact that you are close in age to what my son would be, that you were adopted by a rather unlikely pair—it’s the sum of these things, Benedict. Can’t you see that?”
“It’s not so unlikely. My mother adopted us so there would be someone else in the house for my sot of a father to take his anger out upon. The more children they acquired for him to beat, the fewer beatings she’d have to take herself.”
Lady Vale’s face went white. She lifted her hand and pressed it to her heart, almost as if he’d struck her there. Elizabeth had sat quietly during the interrogation to that point, but she couldn’t allow it to continue. She rose to intercede but Lady Vale stopped her with a glance. The older woman looked up at her and held up her hand in a staying gesture.
“I understand your need to lash out, but the truth must be—”
Benedict cut her off quickly. “You do not want to know the truth about where I have been, what I have seen and what I have done. Even if, on some strange and slim chance that I could be your son, you’re better off to go on believing me dead or missing. Can’t you see that?”
She took a calming breath and dropped her hands, once more, to her lap, folded them primly together and offered him a sad smile. “What I can see is that you’ve had a great deal of pain in your life… pain that I would have had you spared whether you are my son or not. I am sorry for that. But it doesn’t change anything for me. There is nothing in this world so painful as not knowing what has become of my child. And if you must lash out, then I will bear it, until the truth can be uncovered.”
“Lady Vale,” Miss Masters interjected, her tone both disapproving and concerned. “Perhaps it would be best to let Mr. Mason rest for a bit. He is quite tired, I’m sure, given his setback from yesterday. Perhaps, tomorrow he will be more amenable to continuing this vein of questioning?”
“I have only a few more questions… do you recall the name of this vicar?”
Benedict sighed. “It was Endicott, or at least I assume it was. The name had been inscribed inside that primer.”
“That is a starting point, is it not? We can, perhaps, locate this vicar and the church records may tell us when your family was there,” Lady Vale said with a curt nod. “If we narrow down the time, we can determine if that event happened before or after my own son was taken. Surely you cannot object to such a reasonable course of action?”
Elizabeth watched him closely, noted the clenching of his jaw and the firm set of his mouth. He was nearing the end of his patience.
“Let him rest, Lady Vale. No doubt, he’ll be more agreeable about the wisdom of your actions tomorrow.”
Lady Vale nodded reluctantly and rose from the bedside. “You are quite right, Miss Masters. I will go and send a note to Madame Zula now. I will have her here this evening. Please do not tire yourself out… and a meal will be delivered to you shortly. You must be utterly famished.”
Before she left, she turned back to Elizabeth and added, “I will not have you telling the servants that I believe him to be my son so that they treat him like a confidence man and lock up the silver.”
“Then how shall you explain his continued presence here?” Elizabeth demanded. “Do you not think that the servants would be suspicious of you simply inviting some total stranger to remain here indefinitely?”
“It is simple enough, is it not? He came to our rescue, aided us and prevented unimaginable horrors from being visited upon us. It is no less than our duty to assist him in locating his missing sister,” Lady Vale answered, her tone clipped. “And you will not gainsay me on this, nor will you rush off to inform Branson of my current foible! I’m not mad! I am not a child having a tantrum! I’m not simply grasping at straws! I am exploring the possibility that this man, who bears a shocking resemblance to me and to all the members of my family and who has admitted that he has no knowledge of his own origins, might, in fact, be my son!”
In the face of Lady Vale’s clear grasp of the situation, Elizabeth was forced to make a choice. It did not sit well with her most of the time that she was viewed as the tattletale of the house. And since Lady Vale was still admitting that there was a possibility that Mr. Mason was not her son, she had to relent. Elizabeth nodded her agreement, reluctantly. “I will consent to your terms, Lady Vale. But at the first sign that he is not who you believe him to be or that he could be part of a greater scheme to ingratiate himself to you, I will have no option but to inform Mr. Middlethorp.”
Lady Vale nodded, “I will make the arrangements for the investigators to come here and meet with you.” With that, she turned on her heel and left the room.
Elizabeth turned to him and uttered a warning with soft menace, “Do not think to use her grief to your own advantage. Whatever fate may have befallen your sister, I am not without sympathy. But that woman has suffered enough. Do not think to abuse her trust.”
He stared back at her levelly, his expression inscrutable. “Tell me, Miss Masters, what have men done to you that you distrust them all so? Or is it just me?”
“I have found,” she answered with just as much equanimity, “that the more handsome a man is, the more likely it is that he cannot be trusted.”
“So you find me handsome?” he asked, his lips curving slightly with a hint of smugness.
Elizabeth’s lips firmed into a thin, disapproving line as she surveyed him. “You know perfectly well what you look like. There’s no need for me to expound upon it further and feed your conceit and arrogance. Just be aware that I am not fooled by your exterior. You will not charm me nor will you sway me to your cause. My duty, first and foremost, is to see to it that Lady Vale and her interests are protected.”
“That’s quite an undertaking for a woman. Will you shoot me? Put another pistol ball in me to go with the one that was landed by the men who would have succeeded in kidnapping you had I not intervened?” he asked. There was nothing soft about the menace in his voice. That history of violence she’d sensed in him seemed to be bubbling just beneath the surface like a cauldron ready to boil over. Just as quickly, he pulled it back, tamping it down and covering that crack in his charming façade with smooth disdain. “Think what might happen, Miss Masters, if I had not been present.”
She drew herself up to her full height. “Are you threatening me?”
“Not in the least, Miss Masters. I’m merely pointing out that you cannot protect Lady Vale when it is quite obvious you are not even capable of protecting yourself,” he answered. “However it might have happened, you have found yourself and, by virtue of proximity, your employer, in the midst of something that is far reaching and terrifying. You need an ally, one who isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty if need be.”
Elizabeth would have said more, but he had tossed the covers back and was rising from the bed. “What are you doing?”
“I’ve been in that bed for some time now. I’m disinclined to continue attending nature’s call as an invalid would. If you’ve no wish to witness it, Miss Masters, I suggest you leave and quickly.”
Realizing precisely what he meant, Elizabeth blushed furiously and made a hasty retreat. If the door slammed more firmly behind her than was necessary, so be it.
*
She bothered him.
Watching her exit, listening to the slamming of the door behind her, Benedict could admit that to himself. While her suspicions of him were perfectly natural and even reasonable given the circumstances, they goaded him to no end. It was a puzzle because he’d long since stopped caring what most people, especially tightly-wound ladies, thought of him.
There was something about Miss Masters that appealed to him, however; and it was a dangerous predicament to find himself in. Injured, weak as he was, in the midst of his search for Mary, and she was, inconveniently enough, one of the most fascinating women he’d ever met. The more prickly she was, the more adamant she became in her less than glowing assessment of his character, the more he wanted to prove her wrong.
As for Lady Vale, he still believed she was completely mad. Kind, to be sure, but grief-stricken and chasing phantoms not so different from his own. He was not her son. He was completely certain of it, even if he had no memory of the time before he’d been given into the care of the Masons. The very idea that he might have been born a gentleman, much less a peer, given how hard he’d had to work to assimilate even remotely into the upper echelon of society that his gaming hell served was proof enough of that. Blood tells, he thought bitterly. And his blood, wherever it came from, had marked him for the gutter and little better.
After seeing to his immediate needs, Benedict struggled to make it back to the bed. When they’d said he was as weak as a kitten, the assessment had been humiliatingly accurate. The room swayed about him and it was all he could do to remain upright. Gripping the edges of the bed, he lowered himself once more onto it, but only to sit on the side of it. He would not lie down and give in to the weakness. There was too much to do. Benedict forced himself to consider all that he knew about Mary’s disappearance, all the while denying himself the lure of sleep.
It wasn’t very much, sadly. She’d come to Bath to visit an old friend who had married well, a cloth merchant by the name of Simms. Mary had reported that the union did not appear to be a happy one and she felt certain she would be cutting her visit short. She’d also told him of her appointment with a mystic, but she had not named them. He’d tracked Mary to Madame Zula’s residence by speaking to several chair porters. Luckily, Mary’s petite frame and almost-white blond hair was memorable enough that those who had transported her around the city recollected her easily enough. But it was the porter’s memory of the large, hulking fellow in the rough clothes that had been the most telling. The porter had seen him about town a time or two, always trailing in the wake of some pretty young woman.
On that street, he’d spoken to a porter who recalled transporting Mary to Madame Zula’s but never picking her up. None of the porters he’d spoken to had known anything about what went on at that address, only that they often delivered ladies to it. Now, knowing that it was a mystic telling fortunes and reading palms, that made infinitely more sense.
A helpful maid he might have flirted with had confirmed his worst fears. She’d told him about hearing a woman’s scream and seeing a youngish woman with brown hair being carted away by three ruffians. That was the sum total of his knowledge.
He needed to speak with Madame Zula and he needed to confront the Simms’. Why had they not contacted him to let him know Mary was missing? Had they been involved in her disappearance in some way? He should have gone there first but, if he had, he would not have been in the position he had been to prevent a similar fate from befalling Miss Masters. He had to take heart that, perhaps, it was all coming out as it should.
A knock sounded at the door and a footman entered bearing steaming water. Another followed in his wake with a tray of food. A smallish man trailed behind them with fresh clothes and a shaving kit.
“I am Tinsleigh,” the man said, his voice pinched and a bit nasally. “I am the under butler here, but am a valet by trade. Lady Vale has asked me to attend you.”
“I’ve no need of a valet,” he answered immediately. He’d never had one in his life. It was pointless to start now. A man of his station hardly required that kind of attention. He could dress and groom himself well enough without any assistance.
The man sniffed, his overly-large nose flaring with disdain and what appeared to be indignation. “I see, sir. And shall I inform her ladyship that you intend to undo all the nursing and care that was provided by her and Miss Masters when you attempt to shave yourself? No doubt, such vigorous movement will only reopen your wounds and do further damage.”
How a man who was a foot shorter than him managed to look down at him, Benedict couldn’t quite fathom, yet he managed. More to the point, did he really want to have another run-in with Miss Masters’ disapproval or Lady Vale’s desperation? No. Not at all. “Very well,” he relented. “I will consent to the temporary appointment of you as my valet, Tinsleigh.”
The small man nodded and all the unpleasantness previously displayed simply vanished. He became all that was conciliatory and even toadying in that moment. “Certainly, sir. Shall I address you as Mr. Mason, sir?”
“You may,” Benedict agreed.
“Very well, Mr. Mason. We shall not do a full bath in deference to your wound, but we shall endeavor to wash your hair and see you sponge bathed and dressed. I am told to expect Madame Zula this evening. Prior to her arrival, Lady Vale has arranged for you to speak to Mr. Adler, an investigator. He is expected to arrive just before tea time.”
Benedict nodded. “She arranged all that very quickly,” he commented. So quickly, he thought, it seemed to have been prearranged. To what purpose?
“Indeed, sir,” Tinsleigh said, setting up a chair and a basin in the connected dressing chamber. Benedict dutifully took his seat when indicated. “Lady Vale has kept Mr. Adler on retainer for some time. Any questions she has or any information that she thinks may be pertinent, he comes for straightaway.”
“I see,” Benedict stated for lack of anything better to interject. He did not see. If Lady Vale had hired investigators to look into her son’s disappearance and in two decades they’d managed to unearth nothing, how skilled could they be? Then he remembered that she had told him she only had the investigators at her disposal after her husband died. But still, ten years without any progress made him wonder.
“She sent footmen around to deliver a message to Madame Zula, as well. I understand that the attack on poor Miss Masters occurred right outside her establishment, did it not?”
“It did,” Benedict agreed. “You seem remarkably well informed, Tinsleigh.”
The little man puffed up even more. “I do pride myself on it, sir! As for summoning Madame Zula,” he continued, “I imagine that Miss Masters had a hand in that. She’s little use for mystics and the occult… not that Lady Vale does! Simply that Lady Vale does want so badly to learn of her poor son’s fate that she is willing to resort to unorthodox methods.”
Benedict realized that he didn’t have to question Tinsleigh at all. In fact, he could sit there stone silent and just let the man natter on and he’d get all the information about the household he required. “I see.”
“Yes. Madame Zula is not the first mystic her ladyship has employed,” Tinsleigh said, working a lather of sandalwood-scented soap into Benedict’s hair. “She does come far more highly recommended than most. Even Lady Castlery herself has gone to see the woman!”
“But Miss Masters disapproves?” Benedict prompted.
Tinsleigh made a clucking sound much like a perturbed hen. “Indeed, sir! But Miss Masters is very disagreeable and disapproves of many things!”
“I could sense that about her,” Benedict agreed. He wanted the little valet to continue. Servants’ gossip was often the best source of information. When it came to extending credit at his gaming house, it was often his first choice beyond even the avowal of other patrons.
“Well, she is not the first companion that Mr. Middlethorp has engaged for Lady Vale,” Tinsleigh offered in a conspiratorial whisper. “The first two were much worse. Unpleasant, unattractive and genuinely an utter bore to be around. They made everyone in the house quite miserable. Miss Masters is at least pleasant enough when she doesn’t feel that Lady Vale is—well, Lady Vale is desperate to locate her lost son. Who would not be in her situation? It often makes for unwise decisions.”
“Indeed, I can certainly understand her plight. How did Lady Vale learn of Madame Zula?”
“Quite by accident, I do believe,” Tinsleigh said. “She was taking the waters and overheard two women discussing her.”
“And was Lady Vale acquainted with these two women?” Benedict asked. It was an old trick, planting people in an audience to talk up the performance.
“Well, no, sir! I do not believe she had ever met them. She did have someone else introduce them that day so as to obtain Madame Zula’s direction.”
“I see,” Benedict mumbled in reply.
The remainder of his toilette was akin to torture. Everything the valet did for him was a reminder that he himself was currently unable to attend even to his own most basic needs. From being bathed by another man, shaved, having his hair dressed, it was humiliating. That he was exhausted and trembling by the time all was said and done did little to improve his mood.
“You are looking quite pale, Mr. Mason! I do wish you could rest, but I’m afraid the investigator is set to arrive at any moment. Perhaps I can assist you downstairs?” Tinsleigh suggested.
Loath to admit the other man was right, Benedict agreed nonetheless. “Yes, Tinsleigh. Loath as I am to admit, I’d not make it by myself. Thank you for your assistance.”
A knock sounded at the door and Lady Vale entered immediately afterward. “Mr. Adler has arrived! I’m so anxious for you to meet with him, Benedict. He’ll be able to help us get to the bottom of everything. I am certain of it!”