“I would like to work with you and Mr. Brodie,” she announced.
Oh dear. I had exchanged a look with my great-aunt at that one.
“The apple does not fall far from the tree,” Aunt Antonia merrily announced.
The next morning, I called to leave a message for Adelaide Matthews. After giving the servant my name, she picked up the call herself.
Her voice trembled at first. Yes, she had been called upon by a man from Sir Avery’s office who had explained the events of the day before. Her voice grew stronger as she said that she would like very much to see me.
Afterward, I asked Mr. Hastings to bring round the coach to take me to the Matthews’ home in Kent.
Adelaide Matthews was dressed in a deep, rich burgundy gown. There were circles under her eyes, but the soft smile was warm and...brave, I thought.
She was concerned for me after having learned some of the details of the confrontation with her husband and Jacob Howell.
“I met the man once,” she revealed, with no small amount of shock. “I had no way of knowing...but now...” Her voice broke softly.
“Edward was responsible for Stephen’s...” She looked at me. “What about my grandson? When may I see him?”
I explained that Brodie had gone to Leeds, and that I hoped to see him later that day when he returned. He would undoubtedly want to make arrangements for her to see Rory.
“He is all I have left, you know,” she said.
Upon leaving, I asked Mr. Hastings to take me to the office on the Strand.
Mr. Cavendish had returned to his usual place in the alcove at the foot of the stairs to the office. The hound leapt down from the coach as we arrived. His greeting for his old friend was to check for any food that might be about.
“And yerself?” Mr. Cavendish inquired with a narrowed look at me.
I assured him that I was quite all right. I had after all, applied some of my aunt’s cosmetics before leaving Sussex Square.
“He’s up at the office, sure enough,” he told me then. “Returned a while earlier...he has someone with him, a young lad.”
He had obviously brought Rory back to London with him. I heard their voices as I reached the landing at the top of the stairs then opened the door.
Two pairs of dark eyes fastened on me—one with that scar above his left brow only just beginning to heal, the other from a pale, solemn young face. Of the three of us, Brodie was the first to recover.
There was something in his voice as he introduced us.
“Rory, lad, this is Mikaela Forsythe.” He looked at me then, the expression identical in both dark gazes.
His arm was around the boy’s shoulders that were far too thin.
“It’s all right,” he gently told the boy. “She’s a friend.”
Rory nodded, then slowly approached. His face was thin as well, which made his eyes seem enormous, and his overlong dark hair was in need of a trim. But there was bravery in hisexpression, almost defiance in spite of what he’d been through, as he held out a hand.
“I am pleased to meet you, Miss Forsythe.”
“And I am very pleased to meet you,” I finally managed as I looked over his head at Brodie.
“Aye, lad,” Brodie told him. “Ye’ve already met Mr. Cavendish below, and no doubt the hound has returned as well. Ye might ask the man to accompany ye to the public house, as I imagine yer near starved.”
Rory nodded. “Does the hound bite?” he asked.
“No,” I replied. “But he is most fond of biscuits and scones. Ask for some from Miss Effie at the Public House.”
He nodded, then looked to Brodie once more.
