As Mr. Rowe moved to take his seat, Ella took a quick peek around the chamber. It was a small space. The floor was rough planked wood, and centered on the white plaster wall behind the desk hung a large map of London. A table, cluttered withhaphazard stacks of books and papers of all sizes, stood against the far wall, and above it hung a smaller map of England. A candle lamp sat on his desk, and two more occupied the chamber’s opposite corners.
Determined to express her interest, Ella leaned forward. “I did receive your letter, Mr. Rowe, and I’m curious about what it is that you wanted to tell me.”
“Ah yes. The letter. I did weigh the wisdom of contacting you. You may need a little background.” He leaned back in his chair and rested his elbows casually on the carved arms. “I’m a solicitor, and a great deal of my work comes from what you would expect—wills, documents, purchase agreements, and the like. From time to time my clients require other services, such as assistance in locating an individual who defaulted on an agreement, that sort of thing.
“One of my regular clients is a bank that collaborates with a gentlemen’s club here in London. They assist gentlemen who’ve amassed debt within the club’s card rooms and require immediate funds to cover them. The money lent on the spot is a legally binding contract, just as it would be if the gentleman walked into a bank and signed for a loan.
“About two months ago my client extended a rather sizable loan to Mr. Bauer. The terms of these are rather short, you see, and when Bauer failed to repay the loan by the agreed-upon date, he informed my client that he’d have money by the end of the symposium, at which time he’d repay the debt. So the loan was extended.”
She frowned. “But the experts who speak at the symposium receive no honorarium, so how would he get the money for the loan?”
Mr. Rowe shrugged. “That was my understanding as well, but he was quite clear that he would have the funds following the symposium. Either it was a lie to build false confidence, or he has a plan of some sort. Again, he’s committed no crime against the Society, but his intentions are questionable. I thought you should be informed.”
Ella exchanged a glance with Mrs. Chatterly. “What will happen if he doesn’t pay his debts?”
“Debtors’ prison, no doubt. It’s a significant amount. Given that Mr. Bauer does not primarily reside on England’s shores, my client fears that he might leave the country without satisfying the debt.”
“Oh.” Ella attempted to process what she’d just heard. It was not unheard of for ne’er-do-wells to approach the Society in search of funding. Or perhaps he was more interested in Phoebe? Her father was wealthy. Could Mr. Bauer be wooing Phoebe to gain access to her dowry?
His voice cut through her musings. “There is one more thing.”
Ella flicked her eyes up toward him.
“Andrew Clancy is my friend, but he is also one of my clients. Last night before I left, Mr. Clancy informed me that Mr. Bauer’s assistant approached one of the footmen before the phrenological assessments and offered to, for all intents and purposes, ‘buy’ information about the guests in the assembly rooms.”
Ella winced. “What sort of information?”
“Personality traits, unique behaviors, reputations, and so on.”
The meaning of what he’d said trickled through her. “Are you suggesting that the things that Mr. Bauer says in an assessment are curated?”
“That is the question at hand.”
Ella bit her lower lip. What was she supposed to feel? Validation at having correct suspicions? Anger at the fact Mr. Bauer would attempt to trick her? Pity for those who had already fallen for his falsehoods?
Mr. Rowe’s words recentered her. “I wanted to share this because I have great respect for the school and the Society. I don’t want to see them taken advantage of.”
“May I ask why you did not go directly to Mr. Hawthorne?”
Mr. Rowe leaned back in his chair and ran his palm over his freshly shaven jaw. “I considered it, but I understand that he, not to mention his family, has become very good friends with Mr. Bauer over the last several months. No one likes to think they have put their trust in the wrong people.”
“Or my father?” she prodded.
“I thought of him as well, but given the tie between the school and the Society, your father and Mr. Hawthorne are known to be like-minded. I did not think your father would go against Mr. Hawthorne.”
Ella wanted to argue and state her father would surely see reason, but given her own conversations with him, she knew that would most likely not be the case. Perhaps Mr. Rowe was right. Perhaps this was a better way to address the situation at hand.
She did not look toward Mrs. Chatterly before speaking. “I’m not sure if you recall this, but shortly after my mother died, a group of phrenologists published a pamphlet about her and the circumstances surrounding her death.”
“I have heard of it.”
“When she was alive and in Austria with those same phrenologists, she kept detailed journals of her observations. In the months prior to her death, she indicated that she was noticingfaults in the theory. What was more, some of the colleagues, Mr. Bauer included, had begun to take money to skew the findings of their readings. She confronted them about it, but of course they denied any wrongdoing, and then she died shortly thereafter.”
She watched him intently, waiting for him to poke holes in her explanation. He did not, and the strength of his attention and focus spurred her to continue. “My mother indicated that Mr. Bauer, more than the others, would do private parties and was handsomely paid. She questioned his integrity numerous times.”
“You said this is written in her journals?”
Ella nodded.
