“Thank you, Uncle.”
“On the other hand, I think it’s a steaming pile of shit,” he said.
Elswyth nearly spit out her tea. Such language was not usually used in the company of ladies.
“Apologies for my crassness, dear, but it’s true. I never married, and I hardly heard a word about it. Well, except from my elder brother Rowan, may he rest in peace—if he’s capable of it. But because you’re a woman, they believe you cannot make your own way in the world. Well, I have seen more of the world than anyone else in London, my dear, and I tell you: You can.”
“You hardly know me, Uncle.”
“If you are still the bright little girl your mother wrote to me about, I know enough,” he said. The mention of her mother made Elswyth’s smile falter.
Percival stood laboriously, grunting as he rose from the sofa, and took his cane. He made his way to the window and looked out over the garden below. “There are still opportunities in London for you to pursue your education. I will not interfere with your father’s plans for marriage, but should you be interested in those opportunities, I will do my best to provide them.”
“Opportunities. Such as?”
“I will tell you more once I’ve made the arrangements,” he said, “but for now, I have an extensive library in the house, one that you are welcome to make your own. I know little about botany, but Kehinde is a master gardener… among other things. He might be able to assist you.” There was the twinkle of amusement in Percival’s eye.
“I must thank you, Uncle, truly. But my father will certainly not be pleased. He has all but banned me from the study of botany until I secure a husband.”
“I think it’s best if this stays our little secret.” He put a finger to his lips. “I wouldn’t want him to think I’m steering you away from a proper marriage. Understood?”
Elswyth nodded slowly. She wanted to trust this man, with his brusque speech and endearing eccentricities. And yet here he was, already asking her to keep secrets. Had he asked the same of Persephone? Something cold settled over Elswyth, a feeling of sudden isolation, like all the warmth drained from the room.Persephone trusted this man,she thought.That may have gotten her killed. If you are to discover what happened to her, you cannot trust him. You cannot trust anyone.
Percival examined her, perhaps noting her sudden change of expression. “I’m sure you’re quite exhausted, and I have some parliamentary business to attend to. I shall show you to your chambers.”
Percival stood, leading Elswyth out of the drawing room. Before she passed the threshold of the grand double doors, she turned to look at the room once more.
A thousand glass eyes stared back.
The lady’s suite at number 4 Devereux Place was stately, but all around were signs of disuse. The mural on the ceiling had begunto fade, the paint chipping in the corners. Small holes pocked the sheer curtains that billowed by the window, flowing in ribbons of time-washed lavender. She supposed Percival—a confirmed bachelor—had no use for a lady’s rooms.
They were not disagreeable, however. A tea table sat on the stone balcony, and in the center of the room stood a four-post bed carved of rosewood. On the eastern wall of the room was the closet, a vanity painted with roses, and a simple dresser. A sitting area with plush chairs stood to Elswyth’s right, along with a small writing desk. Light came through the open window, illuminating the dust on the floorboards.
“It’s not much,” Percival said, “certainly not as grand as the rooms in some other London estates. But I hope it will keep you comfortable in your time here.”
Elswyth turned to her uncle and bowed her head. “It’s perfect, Uncle.”
Percival looked uncomfortable for a moment. His eyes lingered on the room. Then he cleared his throat. “There is something else that you should know, Elswyth.”
“Yes?”
“The house may be large, but there are only a certain number of bedrooms fit for a lady. As such, when Persephone stayed with me, these were her quarters as well.”
The words sunk in, and Elswyth looked around the room, this time in a new light. “I see.”
“I hope that will not be too troubling for you. If it is, I’m sure we can work out some other arrangement.”
Elswyth nodded, considering. “Not at all, Uncle. It will be comforting, perhaps… to be near the things she left behind.”
“Quite. The police took many of her belongings during theinvestigation, and I haven’t had the heart to get rid of the rest. I suppose… well, I suppose I’ve just been waiting for her to turn up again.” He gave a small surprised laugh. “How silly of me. I will have someone clean it out now that you will be staying here.”
“No,” Elswyth said, more quickly than she meant to, “I mean—I will go through her effects. Some may be of sentimental value.”
“Of course. I shall leave you to it. I have not made any plans for the evening, anticipating that you would be quite exhausted from your travels. Perhaps tomorrow we will dine together. As for tonight, I think you should have a chance to rest.”
“Of course, Uncle,” she said, “and thank you.”
With that, her uncle bowed and exited the room, closing the door behind him. And Elswyth was alone.
