The Daring Miss Darcy (Lost Ladies of London 4) - Page 59
The man blinked in surprise. He looked at the bottle as if it were made of rare jewels shipped over from the Orient. “God bless you, sir.”
“And may he bless you, Mr Jenkins.”
In his excitement, the poor man forgot he couldn’t see clearly and fell into the counter before stumbling out of the shop.
Mr Erstwhile met Vane’s gaze. “Forgive me, my lord. But such a delicate operation needed my utmost concentration.”
“Not at all. I imagine that was not your first good deed of the day.”
The gentleman glanced at the bonnet in Vane’s hand, and the jacket draped over his arm. “Speaking of good deeds, I see you have come to return Miss Brown’s clothes. What a dreadful downpour we had last night. How fortunate you happened upon them in the alley.”
“Miss Brown told you what happened with Mr Hungerford?” Vane wondered what other secrets the lady had confided. Mr Erstwhile had witnessed enough of their conversation to know passions ran high.
“Indeed, she did. What a terrible business it is when one cannot stroll the streets for fear of losing their life.” Mr Erstwhile pursed his lips. “It is no life for a lady.”
The last comment caught Vane short. Something about the way Erstwhile spoke led him to conclude he knew more about his assistant than he let others believe.
“That is exactly what I have been trying to tell her.”
Mr Erstwhile smiled. “Forgive an old man for prying, but might I suggest a different approach — listening rather than telling. When one asks questions, invariably there is always an answer. When a man tells, he may never discover the truth.”
Vane felt like a schoolboy receiving a lecture from the master, but he knew Mr Erstwhile meant well, and he could not deny the wisdom of his words.
“Is Miss Brown here?” Vane glanced at the door that led from the shop to the living quarters. “I wonder if I might have a moment of her time.”
A look of pity flashed across the man’s face. He pursed his lips as he came around the counter to stand before Vane. “I’m afraid she feels a little unwell today. Come back tomorrow, and I assure you it will be more than worth your while.”
Vane studied the man’s kind face. Had Estelle asked Erstwhile to lie on her behalf? He could not tell. Everything about him seemed genuine and sincere.
“Should I be concerned?”
“Not at all.” Like a caring father, he patted Vane’s upper arm. “Give her time, my lord. Give her time.”
One question pushed to the fore. “Has Mr Hungerford called today?”
“First thing this morning. He, too, was informed of her need to rest.”
Wickett’s suspicions about Mr Hungerford entered Vane’s mind. “May I ask you something before I leave?”
“Certainly.”
“It might sound odd to you, but when you dined at Mr Hungerford’s house did you see any servants?”
Mr Erstwhile frowned. “I saw the maid. Two other staff were ill, hence the reason he’d been to buy more laudanum. From what I can gather, he treats his staff well and was keen to purchase any medicine they needed.”
Perhaps Wickett was right. Something was amiss at Mr Hungerford’s house. He should mention it to Mr Joseph.
“Will you tell Miss Brown I called?” Vane handed Mr Erstwhile Estelle’s outdoor apparel. “Can you remind her to inform me should she become … restless?”
A knowing smile formed on the gentleman’s lips. “Rest assured, the lady is not going anywhere. Call tomorrow. May I be so bold as to suggest you take the day to consider what is important — the past or the present.”
This man knew everything it seemed.
Vane resisted the urge to press him for information. Loyalty flowed like blood through Erstwhile’s veins. Probing him would achieve nothing other than make Vane look desperate.
Vane inclined his head. “Until tomorrow.” He reached the door and glanced over his shoulder. “I used to think that the past defined the present. I have since come to learn that the opposite is true.” His current state of mind seemed to have helped old wounds heal.
Mr Erstwhile nodded. “The only thing that matters is how you feel now. After all, what is the past but memories tainted by our imagination?”
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