Chapter Fourteen
Elizabeth had stayed with Lady Vale in the woman’s chambers for most of the morning, writing letters and seeing to her normal daily tasks as if their world had not been turned upside down. Lady Vale had taken her daily sojourn to the baths afterward and Elizabeth had pleaded a headache to avoid going.
She didn’t want to admit it, but fear played a large part in her reluctance. The events that had occurred outside of Madame Zula’s had left her shaken and had reminded her of just how vulnerable she was. Lady Vale had studied her for a moment, concern etching her features, and had then nodded her agreement with an expression of both pity and understanding in her eyes.
Of course, retiring to her room for the afternoon had other benefits, as well. She could continue her intentional avoidance of Mr. Mason. Their charged exchange at breakfast had left her shaken. His very presence was enough to rattle her. When he began espousing ideas that were contrary to everything she’d ever learned about the world and her own place in society—well, it was a bit much to take in.
A soft knock on her door brought Elizabeth out of her reverie. Lady Vale could not have returned so quickly. She had been gone from the house for less than a half-hour which was hardly time enough to get to the Pump Room.
Opening the door, she met the suspicious gaze of Calvert.
“Forgive me, Miss Masters, but I thought perhaps, given Lady Vale’s absence from the house at this time, that you should be informed of Mr. Adler’s arrival. I have shown him into the library.” The butler was stiff and cold as always, more than just a hint of his disapproval showing in his sour facial expression.
“I see. Has Mr. Mason been informed?” she asked.
Calvert sniffed in disdain. “Not yet, miss. I thought to inform you first. Should I not have?”
“No, Calvert. That is quite all right. I will attend to Mr. Adler immediately. But please do have Mr. Mason fetched to the library. I’ve no doubt that Mr. Adler has some information that will be of use to him,” she said.
“Very well, miss. I will see to it.”
As Calvert turned on his heel and disappeared down the hall, Elizabeth took a deep and fortifying breath. She was not prepared for another encounter with Mr. Mason, but she was also very keen to discover what Adler may have found. Had he located Miss Mason? Had he determined what Mr. Mason’s origins might be?
Taking just a moment to tidy her hair and brush the creases from her gown, not that it did anything to improve its degree of attractiveness, she left her room and headed for the stairs. Mr. Mason, Benedict, was waiting for her at the top.
“It’s difficult to be nosy and intrusive while still avoiding me, isn’t it?” he asked slyly.
“Must you always be so provoking?” Elizabeth fired back.
“I wouldn’t have to provoke if you only stopped repressing your true nature,” he replied evenly. “What could be more natural than to be a passionate woman with an inquisitive nature?”
Elizabeth glared at him. “Stop. Stop acting as if there can be something between us when we both know it’s impossible!” With that, she turned and marched down the stairs.
“Improbable, I will grant you. But not impossible,” he corrected, descending behind her.
Nothing more was said between them as they entered the library to find Mr. Adler awaiting them. He had what appeared to be a valise with him.
Elizabeth noted that Benedict’s demeanor changed instantly. “That belongs to my sister.”
Adler nodded. “I found the woman she’d been staying with… where her letters had been posted from. What did she tell you brought her to Bath again?”
Benedict’s gaze remained locked on the bag as it was clearly a tangible reminder of the fact that his sister was missing. “She stated she wished to visit a friend of hers from school, a woman by the name of Mrs. Simms. She was recently married to a merchant here in Bath.”
Adler nodded. “Mrs. Simms was not a friend of your sister’s from whatever school you had enrolled her in. There was no Mr. Simms who was a cloth merchant. Rather, Mrs. Simms is a widow who lets rooms to young women that are in the city seeking employment… of which your sister professed to be one,” Adler explained.
“How did you find this out?” Benedict asked.
“The posting on the letters. I found the shop near Trim Street where the letters had been posted from. They directed me to Mrs. Simms’ house. It’s not uncommon for them to see young women of varying degrees of impoverished gentility there, posting letters and asking after positions in local homes as either governesses or companions. Your sister stood out in their memory because she never once asked about a position… only about whether or not Lady Vale was much in society in Bath,” Adler explained.
An ugly suspicion was birthed in Elizabeth’s mind then. Was Mary Mason even missing? Was this all some elaborate scheme to get Benedict close enough to Lady Vale for them to attempt to carry out their grand confidence game of passing him off as a missing heir? “How on earth would Miss Mason even know who Lady Vale is? More to the point, why would she even care?” Elizabeth asked.
“I’m rather curious about that myself, Mr. Adler,” Benedict answered. “My sister and I live comfortably off my income but we do not move in such exalted circles. Even if we did, Mary would have no reason to interact with Lady Vale at all.”
Adler opened the valise and removed a simple, leather-bound volume from it. “Your sister’s diary… apparently she did not meet Lady Vale, but had seen her. They were frequenting the same bookshop in London only one month ago when Lady Vale was last there.”
Elizabeth recalled that shopping trip. She also recalled that they’d encountered a pretty young woman with blond hair in that shop. She’d taken one look at Lady Vale, her eyes had widened and she’d dropped every item clutched in her hands. That girl, near her own age, had looked at Lady Vale as if seeing a ghost.
Benedict sank down onto one of the nearby chairs. He appeared perplexed and incredibly worried. “It was about that time that Mary’s curiosity, I’d even go so far as to say obsession, with finding out where we’d come from—who our true families were—had begun. But, there is still no good reason for her to have lied. I would not have prohibited her from coming to Bath even if that was her motivation.”
Adler cocked his head to the side. “You really don’t understand how keen the resemblance is between the two of you, do you?”
“No. I honestly do not see it,” Benedict said. “Though to be fair, I spend very little time looking at my own face. Beyond my morning shave, I see little point to it. When did Mary seek out Madame Zula? Had she arranged that before leaving London? I don’t trust what they said here.”
Adler held up his hand. “She wasn’t coming here to meet with Madame Zula. I think that was, perhaps, something she did impulsively. She came to Bath solely to gain more information and to observe Lady Vale.” Adler passed the small book to him.
“She became obsessed with the notion that you could be the missing heir to the Vale line. She believed it wholeheartedly based on what I read,” Adler insisted. “It was that which brought her to Bath.”
Guilt flooded him. “It’s my fault,” he said. “She’s been taken and it’s because of me that she was put in danger.”
“She’s in danger because somehow she garnered the attention of a kidnapper,” Adler said. “I spoke to some of the neighbors and to Mrs. Simms. They’d all seen that big bloke hanging about there, watching her. No one put any real stock to it until she went missing. Mrs. Simms was on the verge of selling her things to a ragpicker to cover the rent on her room. Lucky I got there when I did.”
“Is there anything else that you’ve discovered, Mr. Adler?” Elizabeth asked. The grim reminder of just how many days his sister had been missing appeared to have taken a toll on Mr. Mason. His expression was dark, his brow furrowed with worry.
“Not much else, miss. But I do have questions for you, Miss Masters—when did you go to Madame Zula’s to schedule the appointment?”
“It was on Tuesday,” she replied.
Adler nodded. “You scheduled your appointment the same day Miss Mason did. Given that she was watching Lady Vale, I’d have to wonder if she didn’t follow you there.”
“Oh heavens,” Elizabeth breathed out. “I hadn’t even considered that!”
“If they were watching the house on the Tuesday when the appointments were made, and then watching it again the nights when Mary was taken and when they attempted to abduct Miss Masters,” Benedict mused, “there is no chance at all that the mystic is not involved in some way in these disappearances herself. She would have to be.”
Adler nodded. “That is the truth of it. And that’s why the remainder of my investigation will be spent focusing on her and whoever comes and goes with any frequency from her home.”
*
After Adler left, Benedict opened the simple diary and began to read the most recent entries. It didn’t feel right to violate Mary’s privacy so, but given what they were up against, he had no other options. Every entry since coming to Bath involved all the ways she’d tried to insert herself into Lady Vale’s path. Going to the Pump Room, shopping at the same stores and merchants, frequenting a tea room near the Abbey to watch the comings and goings on days when she could not get into the Pump Room herself.
There were notations about Lady Vale’s companion, remarks about the large man who watched them from a distance. At one point, Mary even suspected that the man had been hired to protect them. How wrong she had been, Benedict thought.
“I am very sorry.”
The softly murmured apology drew his gaze to the very woman he’d been reading about. “What are you sorry for?” he asked.
“I cannot help but feel, since these men have been following Lady Vale and me for so long that, perhaps, your sister has been put in harm’s way because of us,” Elizabeth answered.
“As Adler said, the only people responsible are those who took her. What put her into their path is not anyone’s fault and it certainly isn’t adequate reason for her to be in danger. When I find these men, Miss Masters, and I will, there will be a reckoning,” he warned.
“You are very close to your sister,” she commented.
“Aren’t most siblings close?” he asked. Based on their earlier conversation he would have to imagine that her answer would be no. She’d never indicated one way or another if she even had brothers or sisters but, if she did, they had turned their backs on her.
“No, they most certainly are not,” Elizabeth answered. “You know that my past is less than proper. My own sister, who is much older and very advantageously married, gave me the cut direct in London not so very long ago.”
Benedict said nothing to that. There was nothing he could say. For the entirety of his life that he could recall, he’d always had Mary there to defend him and he her. The idea that he might never see her again was beyond painful, the idea that something might occur between them that would result in his willfully refusing to even acknowledge her was completely foreign to him.
Miss Masters crossed the room to the window, putting distance between them but, more than anything, he realized, giving herself the opportunity to shore up her weakening defenses. A sad smile curved her lips as she looked back at him, “She’s lucky in that regard, as are you, to have someone who cares so deeply.”
“And who cares for you, Miss Masters?” he asked pointedly. There was a deep loneliness within her. In moments such as this, with her guard lowered, he could see it. He recognized it because it mirrored his own. Yes, he had his sister, but there was a gaping hole in him. Where did he come from, where did he belong? For him, it was question after question. For Miss Masters, she had been given those answers. She belonged nowhere. No one mourned or searched for her. Her family had cast her off while his own remained a mystery.
“No one,” she answered. There was no self-pity in that statement. It was made matter of factly but with firm conviction.
“On that score, I would have to beg your pardon as I disagree in a most impassioned manner. You are cared for.”
“Mr. Mason—”
“Miss Masters,” he stopped her. “Do not think to tell me what I do and do not feel. I have made no professions of undying love. I have not sworn my unyielding fidelity to you. You have made your feelings on such promises from men quite clear. But mark my words on this account, if I tell you that I care, I do. And I will. Forever.”
Rising to his feet, Benedict kept the journal tucked into his hand. He advanced in her direction, his movements slow and deliberate. When he reached her, he placed one hand beneath her chin and tilted her face upward.
He had told her that he would kiss her again and for the right reasons. In that moment, as his lips descended on hers, it had nothing to do with inciting passion or initiating seduction. It was something much more tender and with far deeper meaning. The gesture, simple as it was, had been intended to bring comfort to both of them. And while it succeeded, it also complicated things infinitely more. With that kiss, the soft melding of their lips for only the space of a few seconds, neither one could continue to claim that what existed between them was only a simple attraction without deeper feelings involved.
Stepping back, Benedict felt the breath shudder from him as he accepted the undeniable truth. Miss Elizabeth Masters, for better or worse, was his. She might not know it yet, she might not be willing to admit it, but come what may, he would have her and he would keep her. “I’m going upstairs for a bit. I plan to read every single entry in this book, regardless of how uncomfortable some of them might be for me, and try to determine if there is anything else of use in it. I will see you at tea time.”