Chapter Nine
Lady Vale had gone on ahead as Benedict took the stairs slowly behind her. Tinsleigh hovered behind him as if he might somehow catch him if he were to take a tumble. The end result would undoubtedly be the both of them lying in a tangled, broken heap at the bottom. In light of his present weakness and the fact that the stairs and foyer beyond shimmered before his eyes, Benedict kept his hand firmly on the bannister. He resented the weakness, resented that his body would not function the way that he needed it to.
“The investigator is waiting for you in the drawing room, Mr. Mason,” Tinsleigh said. “I do hope that he’ll be able to help you with whatever it is you’re searching for, sir. He’d surely have to be more help to you than he has been to poor Lady Vale.”
“You seem to lack confidence in his abilities, Tinsleigh,” Benedict commented.
The little man gasped, clearly horrified at having said something that would cast aspersions on his mistress’ ability to hire competent men. “Not at all, Mr. Mason. Lady Vale would hire only the best—tis simply that the matter Lady Vale has him looking in to occurred some time ago! I’m sure since the events he’ll be examining for you are much more recent, they are, therefore, much more likely to be solved!”
“Naturally,” Benedict said. Thankfully, they reached the foot of the stairs without incident and both his neck and his dignity remained intact.
A footman stepped forward and opened the door to one of the rooms right off the foyer. Voices were low and muffled from within as he approached. Stepping inside, he waited for the door to close behind him. When it had, he spoke softly, “If it’s quite all right, I’d prefer to have the servants know as little of my reasons for being here as possible. Without knowing what has happened to Mary, I feel every precaution must be taken to preserve her safety but also her reputation.”
Lady Vale nodded sympathetically. “Of course, Ben—Mr. Mason. We’ll be as circumspect as you require… and you will tell my investigator, Mr. Adler, everything you remember about your adoptive parents and how you came to be in their care.”
She was cagier than he’d expected—bartering with her offer of aid. Others saw her as fragile. He himself had viewed her as a madwoman, one who was all but demented by the loss of her child. But the truth was far more complex. Her desperation was both her weakness and her strength.
“I will tell him what I know about how I came to be with them,” he agreed, offering nothing further. It was a dangerous thing for him, to poke into the past so. If the truth came out, it would only make matters worse.
“Very well,” she conceded. “I will leave you to speak with Mr. Adler. Madame Zula will be arriving within the hour.”
As the door closed behind her, Adler wasted no time. He turned to Benedict with a disgusted expression. “I have tried for a decade to make her accept the fact that her son is likely dead. And every time I think I have made progress, some charlatan like you shows up and sends her spiraling back into hysteria.”
“For the record, I do not claim to be her son. I do not believe that I am her son and I do not wish for her to believe that I am her son… Miss Masters was attacked outside Madame Zula’s and the intent appeared to be abduction. I intervened and was injured in the process,” Benedict stated, his tone clipped and sharp. He was quickly growing tired of accusations. Hardly a heroic figure, he certainly wasn’t the villain everyone portrayed him to be at the moment. “Now that we’ve established my lack of ulterior motives, shall we discuss my missing sister and how you mean to locate her?”
Adler eyed him cautiously for a moment. Then with a curt nod, he retrieved a small, leather-bound journal from his coat. “What can you tell me about when you last saw her?”
“I last saw her in London. She came to Bath to visit a friend of hers, a Mrs. Simms, whom she’d known as a child. Mrs. Simms had only recently married a merchant here in the city. She stayed with them for some days, though from Mary’s letters, I sensed that things in the Simms’ house were not as they should be.”
“Do you have these letters?” Adler asked.
“In my bag at the inn… The Three Sisters on Broad Street,” Benedict answered. “I brought them with me, along with a miniature of my sister.”
Adler stopped making notes then. “Miniatures are a costly trinket. What sort of business is it that you are in, Mr. Mason, that affords you such luxuries?”
Benedict considered lying. Answering honestly could very well get him tossed out on his ear. But if Adler was any sort of investigator at all, it wouldn’t take very much digging to uncover the truth about his current occupation. “I own a gaming hell in London… The Bronze Pair near Covent Garden.”
“The Bronze Pair? That’s an unusual name,” Adler pointed out. “I believe that it was owned by a man by the name of Trenton.”
Benedict was left with little choice but to acknowledge the unfortunate truth. “The hell came with it, the name that is. There are two matching statues in the foyer of generously-endowed women. As for Trenton, he wagered the establishment and lost.”
“But it’s a hell and not a brothel?” the investigator demanded, clearly skeptical.
“It is now,” Benedict answered. “What it was in its past incarnations, I cannot say.” He could, but he chose not to. As Mary had continued to live with him, that aspect of the business had been something that had to cease immediately. It was bad enough that she lived in an apartment above a gaming hell. He certainly wouldn’t have allowed her to live in an establishment that was actively engaging in prostitution.
Other than a raised eyebrow, Adler had no response to that. He waved his hand, motioning for Benedict to continue.
“Both Mary and I were adopted by the Masons. And no, that was not their actual name. I’ve never known their true name. Our father took that name because it was his profession and they moved us around every year or so.”
Adler held up a hand. “Where?”
“What do you mean, where? We moved so frequently we hardly bothered learning the names.”
Adler stopped his scribbling, pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose and met Benedict’s gaze directly. “What cities or villages can you recall living in? If your father was a mason, someone in one of those locations will surely remember the lot of you. Surely you remember one or two?”
“I remember a city… a large city, but I have no notion which one. Perhaps York, since I know we were far in the north. But I was very young then. The first village I recall was Halsham, in Yorkshire. Then Aberwick in Northumberland. Those were the places we stayed the longest, though no more than a year in any of them. There were others. But we rarely stayed long enough to develop any connections in the area,” Benedict said. Of course, the last place they’d lived with their parents had been Berwick-on-Tweed but he would wisely keep that to himself. It was a risk to let Adler look into his past, but it was the price he was paying to have someone else search for his sister until he himself was able to do so.
“And how is that you knew you were adopted? You said yourself that you were very young. Did the Masons tell you this?” Adler asked the question almost casually, but there was an undercurrent in his tone, a hidden accusation there.
Benedict tensed, every muscle in his body coiled as the memories washed through him. He despised looking back, despised letting those feelings of fear and anger consume him, but it was the price he had to pay for obtaining their assistance in finding his sister. And since he was not in any condition to look for her himself, there was simply no other option. “They reminded us of it. At every meal, every time we were presented with someone else’s castoffs to wear… we were reminded that no one had wanted us. That we’d been tossed away as infants like so much refuse and were it not for their generosity, if you could call it such, that we’d have long since died from neglect.”
The other man was silent for a moment, letting that nugget of information hover between them. When at last he spoke, Adler asked a very pointed question. “Did it never strike you as odd that they would take on two children they did not have to be responsible for when they couldn’t even put down roots in one area for long?”
The simple truth was that Benedict had not allowed himself to think about his childhood or his adoptive parents in years. As far as examining their motives, he had never wanted to know. The darkness of his past, of the endless torment they’d put both him and Mary through for all those years, had kept him from looking into the abyss of his memories.
“No. Most of my attention was focused on how to avoid the back of my father’s hand or the heel of his boot on my backside,” Benedict answered, keeping his voice intentionally light and devoid of any hint of anger and pain.
“He was a drunkard,” Benedict continued after a pause to collect his thoughts and his courage. “He often wound up in brawls with villagers at whatever local inn or tavern served the cheapest ale. He’d leave a job unfinished or do shoddy work while recovering from a night of excess. There were always reasons for why we picked up and left, and they were rarely ever shared with two children who were seldom seen as anything more than extra mouths to feed.”
“Fair enough,” Adler answered. “But I’ll check in those areas and see if anyone has seen or heard anything of them in the last few years. That’s for Lady Vale’s benefit. Now, on to your sister, tell me where she was last seen here in Bath.”
“Outside Madame Zula’s… Mary, in the last few years, has been obsessed with the idea of finding where we came from, who our real parents were. I can only assume that she thought Madame Zula would be able to help with that.”
Adler made a sound that eloquently relayed his opinion of Madame Zula without actually saying a word.
“I’ll question Madame Zula first,” Adler said.
“You can ask the questions, but I plan to be there to hear her answers,” Benedict replied sharply. “Mary is the only person in this world I give two bloody damns about and I’ll not be an idle spectator in this.”
Adler nodded his agreement. “Fair enough. And I have developed a certain amount of affection and respect for Lady Vale. I will not allow you to harm her, whatever your intent is. Keep that in mind as we go forward. I am looking into this at her request, but my first loyalty will always be with her.”
There was no adequate response to that so Benedict remained quiet. He nodded his assent instead.
Adler then added, “Sit down before you fall down. You’ve less color in your face than some corpses I’ve seen. Madame Zula will be here soon enough.”
*
“Miss Masters, I find I am quite chilled. Would you be so kind as to go and fetch my wrap?”
Elizabeth looked up from the embroidery that she was doing. Typically, Lady Vale would have sent for her maid to take care of such a task. That she hadn’t was suspect enough. But as Elizabeth absolutely despised embroidery and the threads she’d been working with were tangled into a Gordian knot, she was glad for any distraction.
“Of course, Lady Vale. Is there anything else you require?”
Lady Vale smiled. “As we’ve elected to keep my suspicions about Mr. Mason a secret, perhaps if any of the other servants are gathered outside the library, you might instruct them on other tasks they could be attending to now?”
So that was it, Elizabeth thought. She was being sent on an errand to disrupt those servants who would report back to Mr. Middlethorp, of which she was normally one. “Certainly, Lady Vale. Shall I tell them you’ve asked for changes to be made to the dinner menu?”
“Yes, that should do,” Lady Vale replied, continuing with her embroidery as if they weren’t carrying on like spies behind enemy lines.
Stepping out of the drawing room and into the hall, Elizabeth saw the group of servants poised outside the door to the library where Mr. Mason was currently speaking with Mr. Adler. She cleared her throat, and half a dozen heads swiveled in her direction, eyes wide and mouths agape. “I believe that Lady Vale has decided to make some last minute changes to the dinner menu. Perhaps one of you would be so good as to fetch Cook for her?”
They all straightened in unison and scattered in different directions like bugs. Before Elizabeth could ascend the stairs, the door to the library opened and Mr. Adler stepped out. “I need a word with you, Miss Masters, and Lady Vale also. It’s about the men who attacked you.”
“Certainly,” Elizabeth replied. She had no sooner turned toward the drawing room door than Lady Vale emerged.
“I heard, Miss Masters. You needn’t concern yourself with my wrap. The fire has been built up nicely in the library. No doubt we’ll be warm enough,” the older woman said. With all the grace of a queen, Lady Vale crossed the expanse of the hall and swept into the other room.
Elizabeth watched her for a moment, once again envious of the grace and ease with which she moved. Her own forays in society had been limited to the social gatherings in Hertfordshire. And while they hadn’t been the very height of fashion, they’d been pleasant enough and there’d been many a social butterfly present who rivaled even her ladyship in grace and poise. Feeling dowdier than usual in her drab brown dress, she followed on Lady Vale’s heels vowing to herself that it had nothing to do with the beautiful but untrustworthy man who had been thrust into their midst. She laid the blame for it at Mr. Mason’s feet. That wild and reckless part of her, the vain girl who’d flirted and danced and behaved so foolishly, was slowly being resurrected in his presence.
It didn’t matter, she reminded herself, that his profile was perfect enough to have been carved by the ancient Greeks, or that his blond hair gleamed like gold in the candlelight, or that his brilliant blue-green eyes sparkled in a way that made her heart flutter. He was a liar. What he was lying about, she could not be certain, but she’d learned from harsh experience to listen to her instincts when it came to trusting men. Regardless of his heroics on her behalf, he was not at all what he seemed.
“Forgive me, my lady, Miss Masters,” Adler apologized. “But I need to question you about the attackers. Had you ever seen any of them before? Think very carefully… perhaps you passed them on the street while out shopping, or they delivered coal or some other item here to the house? Anything at all?”
Elizabeth started to deny it, but she paused. Perhaps it was nothing, she reasoned, but she did recall a large, hulking beast of a man hovering outside the Abbey after they’d left the Pump Room on the day of the attack. “I think I saw the larger man… but he didn’t approach me.” Relaying the memory, she added, “I cannot be absolutely certain it was him, but I’m not certain it wasn’t either. I had crossed paths with Mr. Mason as well. In the square just outside the Pump Room. He was following the man, I think.”
Adler looked back to Mr. Mason who nodded. “Yes. I’d followed him there and noted him watching Miss Masters rather intently… I’d received a description of him from a chair porter who had told me that he’d seen the man about several times when he’d transported my sister around the city.”
Adler nodded. “That does add a new twist on things, doesn’t it? Odds are, if you noticed him, others did, too. Mr. Mason found him on his own, no doubt he won’t be too hard to locate. I have a colleague whose aid I would like to enlist, with your permission of course, Lady Vale.”
Lady Vale blinked in surprise, as if it hadn’t occurred to her that anyone else would be required. “Certainly, Mr. Adler, you may enlist anyone you wish… is there some reason why you cannot attend all of this yourself? I only ask for the sake of discretion. My suspicions about Mr. Mason’s origins aside, his sister—her reputation would be sullied beyond repair if it was to be discovered that she had been, that is to say, that she had been without proper chaperonage during her absence.”
Adler nodded thoughtfully. “I understand your concerns, my lady, and if I didn’t think it was absolutely necessary I would not suggest it. Unfortunately, we’re investigating two different things now in two very distant regions… Mr. Mason’s past and his sister’s, as well, but also her current whereabouts. It requires traveling far north to look into one and remaining here in the city to look into the other. I could certainly see to both given enough time, but his sister’s disappearance is, I believe, especially time sensitive. As you well know, the longer a person is missing, the more likely it is for them to remain missing.” Adler looked pointedly at Mr. Mason as he uttered the last, silently communicating and confirming the awful speculation that they were all silently engaging in. Mary might never be found. It might, in fact, be too late already.
“Naturally, additional funds will be made available to cover any expenses you may incur during this process, Mr. Adler,” Lady Vale answered just as the heavy brass knocker on the front door fell with a loud thump. “That will be Madame Zula. I’m sure Calvert will show her in momentarily.”
Elizabeth felt her gaze drifting toward Mr. Mason. It was the first time he’d been out of bed since taking a pistol ball to his shoulder and laying senseless with fever for two days since. She reasoned that her concern was well-founded and would be the same degree of concern she would show for anyone. It had nothing to do with how devastatingly handsome he was, or how vexing he was, and the fact that their verbal sparring earlier in the day was the most alive she’d felt in years. From the moment he’d entered her small and colorless world, she’d been more and more painfully aware of just how devoid of any excitement her life was.
She’d fallen into old habits it seemed, being unaccountably drawn to a gentleman who was, no doubt, ill-suited to her and likely would lead to her ruin. It was a character flaw, she reasoned, one she’d thought herself to have conquered. Apparently, that was not the case.
Taking stock of his appearance, her own unfortunate response to his nearness became secondary to the greater concern of his current wellbeing. His pallor was markedly wan and, while he appeared stronger than he had even earlier that day, she couldn’t help but feel it was far too soon for him to be up and around. “I think, perhaps, Mr. Mason should rest. I know Madame Zula will be here shortly, but you are recovering, sir—”
“I’m not an invalid, Miss Masters,” he snapped. “Though I daresay, given your general distrust of all men, you’d prefer it if I were. I’m perfectly fine to remain here while Madame Zula is questioned.”
Her face flamed at his response, but she nodded her acquiescence. “Certainly, Mr. Mason. Forgive me for suggesting that being shot and suffering a debilitating head wound that could well have ended your life as reasons for taking extra precaution with your health.” Her tone was all that was conciliatory, even if her words held a sting.
“I’m perfectly fine,” he replied. “Thank you for your… concern.”
“About the attackers, Miss Masters,” Adler redirected, “can you recall anything about them? Height, weight, hair color, any scars or distinctive markings?”
“One of them smelled rather like fish,” she answered. “I can only assume that, perhaps, he lives near a fish market or near the water.”
“Or that he’s a fisherman by day and a would-be criminal by night,” Mr. Mason added. “I recall it as well now that you mention it. As for their appearance, the fog was too dense to make out much beyond their general shape and size. The only one I can describe is the larger fellow seen earlier in the day. His size alone should set him apart from everyone else. He was nearly a head taller than I am and had me in weight by at least three or four stone. What happened to the dead man?”
“Dead man?” Adler queried. “You killed one of the attackers?”
“No,” Mr. Mason explained. “I struck him and he was left unconscious. The leader of this little band of miscreants then shot him rather than carry him away. I imagine it was the most expedient method of ensuring he wouldn’t be able to offer up information that would identify them or their employer.”
“This employer,” Adler queried, “what precisely was said about him or her?”
“Nothing of any note,” Mason replied. “I overheard them speaking. One of the men, the man who was killed in fact, struck Miss Masters and the man who eventually shot him responded that they would not be paid as well if she were to be marked in any way. The largest of the men, the one who knocked me on my… who knocked me senseless, stated that he didn’t know who their employer was. He said that he didn’t know where the women were taken, that ‘he never tells us where he takes them’. I’m assuming by that he meant their de facto leader, but it could have been their actual employer he referred to. I simply don’t know. Of course, it also highlights the disturbing reality that my sister is not their only victim.”
Adler made more notes in his little journal. He paused, tapped his pencil on the book thoughtfully for a moment, scribbled more and then, as if remembering he wasn’t alone, looked up. “I’ll speak to the watch and see what, if anything, they know of the dead man. If they found him, perhaps they’ve identified him and we can use that information to track his known accomplices.” Before he could say anything further, a knock sounded at the library door.
The butler entered, his nose high and his back straight. “There is a Madame Zula to see you, Lady Vale. She informed me that she is expected.”
Elizabeth noted the censure in Calvert’s voice. No doubt, this would all be delivered in a letter, posthaste, to Mr. Middlethorp.
“Thank you, Calvert,” Lady Vale said, her voice never giving away her distaste for the man. “Madame Zula is here to be questioned regarding the attack on Miss Masters two nights ago in which dear Mr. Mason was injured. Please show her in and then have tea served here in the library. That will be all.”
Elizabeth looked once more in Mr. Mason’s direction. At that precise moment, he was also looking at her. Their gazes locked and something flashed between them beyond simply their shared belief that Madame Zula was a fraud. There was an awareness, a frisson of, if she had to put a name to it, attraction. It was, in short, the exact moment of her downfall.