Chapter 21
Three days later
The world as William knew it had resumed its natural course.
His desk had been tidied, with each file and ledger in its proper place. His hair had been trimmed and proper garments donned. The misery that had held him in an unrelenting snare had since lessened, leaving him to feel again. William once again… lived.
At that given moment, he sat, scanning the folder in his hands.
“This isn’t the most recent,” he said, flipping to the next page.
“No, Your Grace,” Stone murmured.
When no additional information was forthcoming, William paused in his examination and glanced up. The spy who’d served in the role of assistant and butler—and whatever else William had needed him to be—shifted on his feet.
William arched a single brow.
Stone coughed into his fist. “It is my understanding that Lord Edward has been conducting interviews with those familiar with the case.”
The case.
William gripped the corners of the leather folio. Yes, not very long ago, that was all the Allenby family would have ever been. He’d have required no additional information outside the barest that had decreed Francis Allenby a traitor, and that would have been the end of it. He’d been blinded to humanity and ceased to see the people who were impacted by the Brethren. How narrow his world had been. How calculated his views of life and people and everything. I just failed to see it until Elsie.
Closing the folder, William rested it atop the stack before him. “And where is Lord Edward?”
Stone opened his mouth.
Rap-pause-rap-pause—rap-rap.
Of course, still punctual all these years later.
“Enter,” he boomed.
His brother and Cedric Bennett stepped inside. Still attired in their cloaks and hats, they strode forward.
Despite himself, and the familiarity of having spies report with whatever information they’d uncovered, William’s heart slowed and then knocked hard against his chest. For this information… was different. For it was about her. “You’re dismissed for now, Stone,” he said in carefully measured tones. Motioning to the leather winged chairs, William urged the pair to sit. He made his way over to the sideboard. “You are late,” he called, after the two men had taken their seats.
Edward scoffed. “By a handful of moments,” he pointed out, still very much the younger brother who delighted in tormenting his older brother, stuck in the ducal classrooms, while he himself had been running the countryside, reveling in the freedoms permitted the spare.
William reached for a decanter and froze with his fingers on the stopper.
I do expect you to give up liquor until you learn proper restraint over it… and yourself.
And he had. He’d found his way when, after Adeline’s passing, he’d believed himself eternally lost.
Once more, because of Elsie.
William splashed several fingers of spirits into a glass and turned to face his brother and Bennett. “What have you found?”
“I conducted interviews with every patient treated by Allenby,” Edward said as he withdrew a palm-sized leather diary from his jacket. “In his tenure, he provided some form of care or another to more than twenty-five of our men.”
“Thirty-five, if one counts the family members of those men,” Bennett interjected.
Edward nodded. “Some of those who were served by the doctor bore injuries related to their service. Some unrelated. Some took place during travels. Others, years after they’d served. Some illnesses.”
“And?” William stared intently over the rim of his untouched drink.
“And the opinions of him and his service”—Edward and Bennett exchanged a look—“were high. No one reported anything of less-than-stellar service. No man died while under his care.”
There was more.
It hung in the air, as real as if it had been spoken. He forced himself to take a small sip, collecting himself, fighting for restraint.
Bennett fished a small folded sheet of velum from his cloak.
Standing, he crossed over and held it out.
William made himself take another drink, and only after he’d swallowed did he accept that officious-looking scrap.
“He was a traitor,” Bennett said bluntly.
William struggled to keep from choking on his brandy. After all, Bennett’s was the expected statement, even as it didn’t fit with the optimistic accounting reported by his brother on the late doctor’s work and patients. It did not matter how many acts and actions one had done justly and honorably. The one that mattered most was the one in which one chose treachery.
“You are dismissed,” William managed to say, his voice steady, as if Bennett had delivered that pronouncement about any other subject of an investigation.
The spy let himself out, leaving the two brothers briefly alone.
Bennett was a cynic. The most jaded, field-hardened member of the Brethren. He’d have found the Lord himself guilty for having forged a relationship with the once-sin-free Lucifer. “Well?” he asked when the door had closed.
Edward pressed his gloved fingertips together and rested them under his chin. “Does it matter so much if he was?”
It did, but not for the reasons his brother surely thought or wondered after.
It mattered because Francis Allenby had been a saint in his daughter’s eyes and because she deserved more of a sire… and God help him, William didn’t wish to be the one to contradict her.
Abandoning all pretense of drinking, he set down his glass and swiped a hand over his face. “That wasn’t an answer, Edward,” he said impatiently. It was the deliberately vague shite one fed another whose response or reaction one feared.
“No.” Edward came to his feet. “I’d advise you read it yourself, but… yes, as Stone indicated, you’ll find the records in order, the interviews thorough, and a statement of guilt.”
That was what he’d been handed.
William glanced down at the faintly yellowing sheet.
It was a letter of guilt from the doctor himself. It was a note William could give to the man’s devoted daughter… and it would break her heart.
A dull ache throbbed in his chest, and he resisted the urge to rub at that misery. “That will be all,” he said quietly.
“Of course.” Edward dropped a bow and left.
After he’d gone, William stared at the page in his fingers. Not wanting to read the words there. Wanting to return to the way life had been these nearly three weeks with Elsie.
But there could be no them joined in any way. Not in the way he yearned for.
And so, with dread slithering around his gut, William unfolded the note… and began to read.
*
The small heels of Elsie’s boots clicked rhythmically upon the hardwood floors, and as she walked the corridors of William’s home, the butler cast sharp glances back her way.
As if her every action was to be watched.
As if he feared she’d bolt.
As if…
You are the daughter of a traitor.
Bitterness stung like vinegar upon her tongue. For, to the men who served the Brethren, that was all she was… or would ever be.
Only William hadn’t treated her thus. In the greatest irony, he, the leader of that noble organization, had never looked upon her with disdain or mistrust. She and William had forged a bond that had somehow defied even her father’s supposed sins.
And yet, even with that connection, she now strode these halls as more servant than anything. In fact, this moment might as well have been the first day of her arrival and not that of a woman who’d lived nearly three weeks with the head of this very household. That man had taught her to laugh again and find pride in the work she was capable of and had urged her to be more. And had made love to her.
Elsie fisted her hands in the fabric of her skirts. For William hadn’t given any hint that he felt anything for her. Not truly. Nothing beyond the stolen exchange in his gardens where they’d made love under the summer sun.
Sex he’d given to whores and actresses… and now her.
His heart? That gift had been buried with the wife who’d died.
Stone brought her to a stop outside William’s office. He knocked once.
This wasn’t the rap of the Brethren, but rather, the polite scratch of a servant’s knuckles announcing a guest—or in this case, another servant.
“Enter,” William called out.
The butler pressed the handle and let her inside.
Elsie entered, taking several steps, and then stopped.
William sat before her, but not as he’d been almost three weeks earlier. Less gaunt. Less pale. His skin reflected an olive hue from the hours he’d spent in the gardens alongside her. That magnificent tangle of black curls had since been neatly trimmed and was drawn back at the nape of his neck.
This was a man in full command of himself and the empire he ruled.
As such… she didn’t know how to be around this newer version of William. Selfishly, she preferred him as he’d been in their intimate exchanges prior to this one: relaxed, no work or rank between them, and only a friendship existing there.
Friendship.
Is that truly what you want with him?
No. She wanted more. She wanted to be his partner in life, laughing with him and teasing him. Alas, that was not to be. Elsie stared at Bear resting at the foot of William’s desk, as content as one who’d found his rightful place and had no intention of relinquishing it. All the while, the gentleman who’d become Bear’s master attended whatever important reports lay open before him.
And I’m not even an afterthought. Elsie clenched and unclenched her hands. She would not, however, curtsy or announce herself.
William finally closed that book and glanced up. “Elsie,” he greeted.
He spoke with a somberness that conveyed formality and belied the use of her Christian name.
To hide the tremble in her hands, Elsie clasped them behind her. “You’ve been avoiding me,” she said by way of greeting.
William’s features immediately gave way to a smooth, unreadable mask. “I’ve been working.”
“Yes, but also avoiding me.” He’d given her only truths before this. She’d not accept his lies now.
Sitting back in his seat with a small chuckle, William rested his hands on the flat of his belly. “Has there ever been a woman more direct and forthright than you?” There was a wistful quality to that murmur that sent warning bells clamoring at the back of her brain. “Will you please sit?” he asked, finally standing.
No. Every muscle within her body strained in protest. She didn’t want to cross over to that blasted desk and sit and engage in a discussion… that had traces of “goodbye” hovering within the room.
They still had four more days before the terms of their agreement were met. Four more days. Elsie drifted over and claimed one of the leather seats.
“I received the entire file on your father.”
She jerked.
Of everything she’d been expecting, that had certainly not been what she’d thought he might say. He’d vowed to find out. He’d pledged to learn everything there was to learn. But never had she truly believed he would share that privileged and confidential information… with her. An outsider. She wet her lips. “And what have you learned?”
William sat back, and yet, his corded biceps strained the fabric of his black wool jacket, making a mockery of that hint at calm. “I learned your father was a skilled doctor committed to his patients,” he said quietly.
Her lower lip trembled, and she bit at that flesh to steady it. “He was,” she managed to at last say. But the unspoken regret and remorse hung heavy in his tone. “But?”
Gathering up the file he’d been reading, William stood and came ’round the desk.
Bear sprang to his feet and accompanied a man who’d become his new loyalest of friends and joined him at Elsie’s side.
Or mayhap it was just that Bear sensed she needed him more in this instance than William did. She wove her fingers through the dog’s coarse fur, seeking comfort—and this time, finding none.
William held out the leather folio etched with a golden seal. “What is this?” she asked, making no move to take it.
“These are the men you and your father treated. You’re not mentioned.”
She glanced at the seal. “No,” she said softly. “I wouldn’t be.” Women weren’t included in the marks upon pages that mattered.
William dropped to a knee beside her, and she ached to feel his touch again, that most meaningful of connections, a tender caress, a show of support. “But you should be. You should be, Elsie.”
With a sound of frustration, she sailed to her feet. “It was never about that,” she cried, whipping away from him. “It was about—”
“Helping,” he supplied for her, and there was no judgment there. He proffered the folder again. “And that is precisely what your father did.”
Elsie recoiled, jerking her hands close, refusing to take the records still. For when she did, everything would be established as fact, and coward that she was, Elsie didn’t know if she wanted all of it. Coward that she was, she was content with the image of her father and what they’d done and wanted nothing that called any of that into question, in any way. “Just say it,” she whispered. “Be done with it already.”
William unfurled to his full height, towering over her. “I will not.” He drew forth an aged yellow paper from his jacket.
Her heart jumped at the scrawl across the front, barely distinguishable, dashed in the hand of one whose mind had been far too busy attending his craft to worry about the quality of his penmanship.
She shook her head and, holding her hands up protectively, backed up a step.
“You should read it, Elsie.”
No.
“You are no coward, love. It is what makes you so wholly different from me and any other man or woman,” William said with a tenderness that brought tears to her eyes.
Blinking back those bothersome drops, she made herself take the note, and before her courage deserted her, Elsie unfolded it and read.
I will preface the contents of this note by taking ownership of my grave mistake and expressing my sincerest of apologies.
Her stomach lurched. Don’t read anymore. It doesn’t matter. You know who and what your father was. Only, why did that now ring with a good deal less conviction in her mind? Why did it seem like it had only been a lie she’d fed herself? The page shook wildly in her grip, and she forced herself to steady those digits and kept reading.
I am guilty of the crimes which you will soon learn of. I revealed the existence of the Brethren. I confirmed my role within it. I offered the name of but two patients—
Bile climbed her throat. Her father had revealed the identities of young men who’d served the Home Office. Her piteous moan filled the office. “I was so sure,” she whispered into the quiet.
All the while she read, William stood close. Hurled epithets and accusations would have been easier than… this, his quiet support.
Needing to have the rest of those damning words finished, she hurried through the remainder of the letter.
Should I have failed to confirm and provide some evidential proof, my daughter’s existence was threatened. I pledged my loyalty to the Brethren, king, Crown, and country… but not at the expense of her. I ask that you please send supports for mine and my family, so that—
Elsie quickly read through the rest and then folded the page along its original crease.
It had been a confession… and an appeal for help—help that he’d not deserved. Unable to speak through the emotion clogging her throat, Elsie held the letter out.
William took it and tucked it back inside his jacket.
“Just say it,” she said tiredly.
He shook his head. “I will not.”
Because he was far more honorable and trustworthy and good than she’d ever credited. “Just say it,” she cried, and this time, the tears flowed freely, and she let them. “Say it.” Elsie slammed a fist against his chest, over and over.
He caught her wrist in a delicate hold, halting the next blow. With reverent gentleness, he raised her fingers to his mouth and pressed a kiss atop them. “Your father was a traitor. Is that what you wish to hear?”
There it was. Words she’d believed didn’t matter ran through her like a blade, slashing at every myth she’d believed and proving the greatest lie she’d managed to convince herself of. She did care. She didn’t want to know that her father had betrayed king and country. Before, she would have snarled and hissed at that, calling William all kinds of liar. But now she could not. The intensity of his gaze upon her pierced her, and unable to meet that regretful stare, she yanked the folder from his hands.
Stepping around him, she wandered over to the drawn curtains and stared out.
“The thing about… the truth, Elsie,” William said from over her shoulder. “We tend to take it as white or black. Something definitive. Something clear. One is either a liar, or not. Good or bad. Truthful or dishonest.” The floorboards groaned, indicating he’d drifted closer, and she studied his towering frame in the crystal windowpane. “It is an understanding that exists among most. That belief in absolutes once drove my own life and every decision I made.” He rested his palms upon her shoulders and leaned down. “Until you, Elsie.”
She stiffened, refusing herself that warmth and reassurance, and then she weakened, collapsing against him.
William placed a fleeting kiss against her temple. “You taught me that the world exists in varying shades of gray, and people and circumstances cannot exist in absolutes. We’re all a product of life and loss and… love.” Her heart lifted and then, with his next words, fluttered back to its usual place. “Your father loved you and did what he did to protect you. I cannot… will not fault him for that, Elsie.” He gave her shoulders a light squeeze and stepped away.
Those words moved through her, light and freeing and healing in every way. She’d been so fixed on resenting those who’d wronged her father and seeing him as a martyr who’d been failed… when the truth was as William had said. He, just like William and every man who’d come to their cottage, had been merely human. A man who sought to be the best he could be, but who inevitably faltered and failed.
Elsie hugged her arms around her middle and faced him. “Thank you.” How very inadequate those words were.
William gave her another sad smile. “You’d thank me. You never owed me your gratitude. It was wrong of my brother to bring you here.”
And there it was.
Elsie drifted closer to him. “I want to be here.”
“I wanted you to be here,” he said softly.
Wanted. His use of a past tense spoke of a parting, an end. A pressure was weighting her chest, squeezing at her airflow, making it impossible to breathe.
“I didn’t do anything, William.”
“No. You did everything.” He cupped her cheek. “If it hadn’t been for you, I’d still be drinking and whoring and locking myself away indoors when there are people who need me. You showed me how I’d shut everyone out. My brother. My nephew…” His Adam’s apple moved. “My late sister’s young son, Leo.”
Leo. A child related to this man, and she knew nothing of him. Would never know anything about him. He’d remain a stranger.
Elsie bit at the inside of her cheek, focusing on the pain of that. “You’re sending me away.”
“I’m setting you free,” he corrected.
How was she going to pick up her life and go on without him in it? All the teasing and joy she’d had in simply being with him and speaking to him would fade into memories. “You are sending me away,” she repeated, forcing him to own that, even though he’d never pledged anything more than his body in the gardens three days ago.
He drew in a slow breath through his lips. “You have helped me recover in ways I believed I never would or could… but you are not safe here, Elsie,” he said, faintly entreating. “You would never be safe with me.”
Elsie wandered back to the window and stared at the fancy conveyances and fine horseflesh traversing the fashionable streets of Mayfair.
William’s words were the closest he’d ever come to hinting at wanting her here. This time, Elsie did fold her arms close in a solitary embrace. Even so, his words weren’t of love but of keeping her safe. The sad smile on her lips reflected back in the window.
All the while, did he not see that she was no “safer” alone in her corner of the Cotswolds?
Elsie gave her head a slight shake and let her arms fall to her sides. Either way, she didn’t want him that way. She loved him, wanted a life with him, but would not guilt or worry him into keeping her close. Returning to his side, she stretched a hand out.
He stared at it in befuddlement before folding his fingers into hers.
She shook his hand. “I have enjoyed my time here”—with you—“more than I’d thought possible,” she said softly. Oh, God. How am I so steady when I’m splintering apart inside? “I will miss”—his grip convulsed around hers—“it,” she settled for lamely.
“That is almost a compliment,” he said, retaining hold of her hand, and she clung to him, stealing those last vestiges of warmth.
“Almost,” she agreed with a teasing grin. Reluctantly, Elsie drew her hand back and smoothed her palms down the sides of her skirts.
“I’ve had your belongings packed,” William went on in peculiarly flat tones that effectively killed her smile. “Stone will accompany you back. You’ll be safe with him.”
What was safe anymore? Her heart was crumpling into dust within her chest because of this man’s rote accounting of her travel plans.
“Given you and your father’s service, I’ll see you afforded the same protections as any other member of the… Home Office,” he was saying. “Someone who will… remain in Bladon and…”
She shook her head. What was he saying? “And… look after me?” she ventured.
He frowned. “See that you’re safe.”
The guilt he carried over his late wife would be forever with him. She’d not allow it to cloud the remainder of her existence. “I don’t want that, William.”
“Elsie,” he pleaded.
“I do not want anyone assigned to me, William. I’m a grown woman. I’ve lived for nearly five years on my own without incident, and I’ll continue…” alone. Oh, God. Elsie averted her gaze slightly to hide the next wave of tears. He’d offered her his body. But so had he done with countless other women—and many more who’d come after she was gone.
He reached for her hands, and she hid them behind her back until his own fell uselessly to his sides. His features spasmed. Was it grief? Good. Let him share the weight of misery now crushing her. “I wish you the best, William. I wish you peace and happiness.”
With that, Elsie dropped a curtsy. Do not cry. Do not cry. Do not cry. It was a mantra that beat in her head in time to her footfalls. Just go, before you dissolve into a pathetic, blubbering mess. Only, she could not. She stopped at the door, facing him again. “William? What happened to your wife, the fault does not lie with you. It lies with soulless men who carry out that evil. Your guilt… nearly destroyed you, and it will once more, if you let it.”
Two hours later, her meager belongings packed and stored within his carriage… she left.