He grasped her hand. He stood and bent down to give her a kiss, but froze when a scratch on the door interrupted.
Ives stepped out of sight, pressing to the wall. Shaking, Padua opened the door a crack.
A servant girl stood there. “Emily asks that you come down, miss. To the office. She is having trouble with a patron over payment. With Mrs. Lavender gone, she wants your help and advice.”
Padua almost said to tell Emily to have Hector throw the patron out, before she realized this was the other way Ives had expected.
“Tell her I will be down very soon. I need to make myself presentable.”
The servant girl walked away. Padua closed the door.
“Agree to nothing right away,” Ives said. “Even if he wants to give you two thousand, bargain for more to keep him talking.”
“But what do I say if he wants to know where the equipment is? I have claimed to know, but I don’t.”
He appeared torn. “Say it is in that cellar.”
“Is it?”
“It was. There is still some paper and bad money there.”
“Now you tell me?”
“If you did not know, you would not have to lie. Questions might have come from others besides the man you will meet tonight. Scold me later if you want.”
She would definitely do that.
She closed her eyes, to compose herself. She did not need to do anything to her person. She already was presentable. She had dressed tonight to look like a prosperous business owner, not an impoverished schoolteacher.
Ives tapped her shoulder. Before he opened the door, he gave her a kiss.
She battled excitement and fear as she walked down the stairs. She wanted to sound poised and in command, and sought that voice inside herself. She would think of them as students, she decided. Students who had not learned their lesson for today.
Hector stood guard by the door. Before going to the office, she approached him. “Is Mrs. Lavender faring better?”
He turned black, worried eyes on her. “Not worse, at least. I thought the food, maybe—no one else is sick.”
“Send for a physician, Hector. Tell him that her food may have been tainted or poisoned.”
The whites of his eyes showed more at the last word. Hector angry was a sight to behold. “Who?”
“I do not know. Send for the physician, then keep your ears open.”
***
Padua entered the office without asking permission. Emily was not Mrs. Lavender, after all.
She found Emily in a têtê-a-têtê with a man. Not especially tall, he wore riding clothes and his face was unshaved. Close-set round eyes peered at her from his narrow face. He gave the impression of having ridden a good distance recently.
Emily snapped her mouth shut upon Padua’s intrusion. She appeared older and harder up close. Sitting in her window, one might think her attractive. Now deep lines by her mouth marked her character. A sharp chin gave her a belligerent appearance.
“Is this the gentleman who is objecting to the fees?” Padua asked.
“Not objecting as such,” Emily said. “He wants to use a bank draft.”
Padua remained standing, and noted how the man did not stand, too, as a polite man would. “We do not take bank drafts, sir. In all the years here, Mrs. Lavender never has. There can be no exceptions.”
The man just looked at her. Judging. Assessing.
