“Henry,” Mrs. Chambers said. “Have Annie fetch Mr. Summerville’s walking stick from my armoire, please.”
Henry bowed and withdrew. I gathered that he truly hadn’t gone to visit his family.
“How did you find me out?” Mrs. Chambers asked in the ensuing silence. She did not invite me to sit down again, nor did she offer me a beverage.
“You were not surprised when I told you what I’d come for,” I said. “You had a glib explanation that Summerville always left the walking stick about, but I do not think he does. Summerville is careful even when he seems not to be, which is part of his charm, I think. And he was too worried when he found it missing to make me believe this a common occurrence. You questioned John, who would not have taken it at the door last night, instead of Henry who had. You did not want to make Henry lie.”
Mrs. Chambers listened to my tale, her lips parting. When I finished, she looked away. “I had not planned to keep it. But when you turned up, saying he’d sent you, I realized how anxious Mr. Summerville was for the walking stick’s discreet return. And I understood what that meant.”
That Summerville had realized the danger of having the walking stick found in the house of his mistress. The utterly respectable Wrights would never forgive the transgression. Summerville also believed Mrs. Chambers might try to blackmail him with it, which put plainly just how much trust he had in her. And so Mrs. Chambers had decided to act.
I looked into Mrs. Chambers’ clear eyes and suddenly wished myself a wealthy man, so I could press money to her palm and tell her to go somewhere, anywhere, to forget about Summerville and pursue her own happiness.
“I am sorry,” I said. I truly was sorry. Sorry I’d ever agreed to help Summerville.
“Thetoncan gossip all they like that he is my protector,” she said, “but such talk can be dismissed as gossip.”Especially by Summerville, the charmer.“But the stick is proof, isn’t it? Proof I can show to his beloved fiancée and her father.”
I studied her brittle face, her too-bright eyes. “You love him?”
“Yes. I am afraid that I do.”
“He does not deserve you,” I said savagely.
She smiled, but the smile was strained. “You are kind, Captain. But it does not matter. I told you this morning that I understand why he must marry. And I do. Marriages should not be made lightly.”
“But you do mind.”
“Of course I mind! Do you think I have no heart? He must lie in a bed with her and get children on her, and for that I want to gouge her eyes out!” Her rage faded as abruptly as it had come, and she gave a little laugh. “You see, Captain? I am petty and jealous, as is any woman who wants a gentleman.”
I took a step forward. “You are brave. I wish . . .” I stopped. “I am friends with Mr. Grenville, who has a large acquaintance. Perhaps he could introduce you to a gentleman who proves more appreciative than Summerville.”
She was shaking her head before I finished. “No. I know you mean it as kindness, Captain, but no.”
“I wish you were not so in love with him,” I said.
She shook her head again. We watched each other, the words hanging.
Henry entered at this interesting moment, carrying a black walking stick with a gold head. Mrs. Chambers took it from him, dismissed him, and put the walking stick into my hands.
“There, Captain. Tell Mr. Summerville not to be so careless with it in future.”
I bowed again, but I had no more words to give her.
My coming had hurt her. If Summerville had not sent me, certain Mrs. Chambers presented a threat, she might never have realized how much he mistrusted her, how much he viewed her as an embarrassment. I’d sown a seed of darkness.
“Good-bye,” I said, and left her.
***
When I reached Summerville’s rooms in Piccadilly, his valet was dressing him to go out. Summerville turned from the mirror, his expression hopeful. He did not even inquire about my bruises. “Did you find it?”
I looked him over, from the elaborate cravat his valet had just tied to the pristine pumps he wore with pantaloons that buttoned at the ankle. I thought of his brother, the threadbare parson, and Nellie in her tiny rooms with her children and her drunken husband. I thought of lovely Mrs. Chambers and the misery in her eyes, misery Summerville had put there.
“Yes,” I said.
Summerville’s smile flashed. “Thank God. I knew you’d do it. Grenville said you were astonishing. Where is it?”
“In a safe place.” I had stopped at Grosvenor Street and given it to Grenville’s very discreet valet to look after.
