That single China girl, though, was the one who answered Victorine’s summons at the door. Her initial thought was that she must have arrived at the wrong residence even though there were no houses on either side of this one and it was situated some thirty yards behind the forge just as Mr. Cabot had described to her. Still, she looked to her right and left and then behind her to get her bearings.
Because Cabot had told her of its proximity to the forge and the livery, she had imagined the house as a gray, washed-out, dreary dwelling with a sagging roof and smoky windows. She hadn’t asked her investigator for more than the location of the house. Clearly that was an oversight. This was not the home she had been inspired to create, and she would have noticed that earlier if she had been walking with her head up instead of watching her step on the icy flagstone path.
Upon inspection, Victorine saw the house was a relatively new structure, newer certainly that the storefronts along the main thoroughfare. It gleamed almost as white as the snow around it. The bright yellow shutters did not evoke dreariness. There were curtains in the windows, none of which were smoky or smudged, and the door, the one that was opened to her now, was also painted yellow. It would be like walking into sunshine, and Victorine’s mood was not improved by the thought of it.
“You,” she said, staring at the China girl.
“May I help you?”
It was cold standing on the small front porch, but Victorinewas prepared to suffer that until she had answers. First, she required confirmation she was in the right place. “Is this the Shepard residence?”
“Yes.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“I work here.”
Victorine had a vague recollection of Mr. Cabot telling her this young woman had been hired away from the hotel. She also recalled her response.Someonewantsher in their home?That is beyond my understanding. Damn the man. He’d known where she’d gone and he’d purposely kept that to himself. It shouldn’t have mattered that she hadn’t asked. He was obliged to tell her. She was paying him for answers whether or not she posed the questions.
“Is he here?” she demanded. “Don’t look at me as if you don’t know to whom I am referring. Is he here?” Victorine was trying to look past the girl’s shoulder or over the top of her head when a child thrust her way to the forefront and stared so openly as to be rude. The child presented a distraction, and Victorine used that to her advantage, pushing the door open wider so she could step inside. She closed the door behind her. The child was no longer out in front of the China girl; she was clinging to her skirts.
“Whatisyour name?” Victorine asked, frustrated and impatient. “Lee? Wong? Chang?”
“Fedora Chen.”
“Chen. Of course. I would have come to it eventually. You know who I am?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. Let us begin again,” said Victorine. “Is he here, Miss Chen?”
Fedora put a comforting arm around Lizzie’s shoulders and kept her close.
Victorine saw the gesture and it annoyed her. “For God’s sake, I am not going to bite the child. Ilikechildren.”
“All evidence to the contrary.”
“What? What did you say?” She shook her head. “Never mind. I heard you. I merely required a moment to collect myself.” Victorine raised a gloved hand and slapped Fedora.
The blow was swift and stinging, and it moved Fedora offher feet. Beside her, Lizzie also stumbled. Tears welled in her eyes.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, I didn’t touchyou,” said Victorine. “Where is your father?”
“Dead,” Lizzie said.
Victorine huffed a pent-up breath. “Your stepfather, then. Where is he?”
“Stepfather?” She looked up at Fedora for an explanation.
“She doesn’t understand,” said Fedora. “She calls him Da. And she doesn’t know where he is. Neither do I. Not precisely. He and Mrs. Shepard left at first light to complete a survey. The important thing you need to know is that he is not here.”
Victorine examined Fedora through narrowed eyes. The truth eluded so many of these Chinese that it was quite possible the girl was lying. Victorine could still make out the print of her hand on the girl’s cheek. For no particular reason, she was tempted to slap her again. “I want to look for myself,” she said. She took a step forward on her way to brushing past Fedora but found her path immediately blocked.
“Mr. Shepard isn’t hiding from you,” Fedora said. “He wouldn’t. Neither would Mrs. Shepard. They’re not here.”
Victorine stayed where she was. Fedora held her stare, which she found faintly unnerving because it was not the shy, servile demeanor she had come to expect. “Very well,” she said. “I wonder if you will give Mr. Shepard a message from me.”
“Of course. What is it?”
