She paused, as if second-guessing her decision to share, but then she plunged ahead. “Miss Mary found a book, or something like a book, hidden away in a secret compartment in your father’s study. I don’t know how she found it, or if she’d been looking for it, but whatever was written in that book terrified and alarmed her. She fretted over it for several days before she confronted your father.”
“What was written in the book?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Miss Mary wouldn’t tell me. I didn’t see the book, either. She kept it hidden.”
“What happened after she confronted my father?”
“That was the night she left.”
“Did she leave of her own free will? Or did my father force her to go?”
“I don’t know. I truly don’t.” She pressed her lips together as sweat beaded on her brow. “The next morning, your mother rang for me. She said that my services were no longer needed. I would be given a letter of reference, and I was to be gone by noon. WhenI tried to ask her where Miss Mary had gone, she told me not to ask any questions or discuss anything with the other staff. She threatened to send me away without a reference if I did.” Danbury swallowed hard. “I couldn’t take that chance, so I didn’t say another word until now.”
My mind spun with possibilities. “Thank you for answering my questions. I know it was a risk for you to tell me, and I promise I won’t get you in trouble.”
Danbury nodded slowly, though she didn’t look convinced. “Will there be anything else?”
“If you can think of something, please get word to me.”
“Yes, miss.” Danbury opened the door, clearly eager to see the back of me. “Good day, Miss Kathryn.”
I left the Windham’s home with my umbrella open and walked back to Wilton Crescent, hardly noticing anything but the thoughts running through my mind.
What kind of book did Mary find that would be so dire as to either send her away or make her choose to leave? And where had Father been hiding this book? Why did he have it to begin with?
The only person who might answer my questions was Mary, but it would be almost impossible to go to her without Austen’s help. I couldn’t ask for our carriage to take me. Father would find out where I’d gone. But I couldn’t ask Austen to take me to Whitechapel again.
I would need to hire a carriage, though I didn’t have that kind of money. Father saw to all my expenses, so I would need to sell something.
I was still pondering this when I approached Wilton Crescent. Austen’s carriage was just pulling up to the front of his home. We hadn’t spoken since returning from Berner Street, and I wasn’t sure what I would say to him. I contemplated turning around to walk in the opposite direction, but he stepped out of his carriage and paused when he saw me.
His blue eyes were stormy as he regarded me, and my traitorous heart leapt.
“Hello,” I said, swallowing the unexpected nerves racing up my throat.
“What are you doing in the rain?”
“I went to see Mary’s lady’s maid on Chester Square.”
“And did she tell you anything valuable?”
“Yes, but I need to speak to Mary again.”
He sighed and glanced at his house before looking back at me. “Get in the carriage. I’ll take you.”
I stared at him, surprised. “Are you cert—”
“Don’t give me time to change my mind, Kathryn.” He nodded at Miles, who nodded back, and then Austen opened the door for me.
I quickly walked toward him. He took my umbrella and then offered his hand for me to step into his carriage, but I paused and said, “Thank you.”
“You will be the death of me,” he said. “I’m certain of it.”
I smiled and stepped into the carriage.
I found myself sitting next to Austen once again on our way to Whitechapel. He was stiff beside me as the carriage moved over the cobblestone roads and through the loud traffic of central London.
Two nights ago, the darkness had acted as a buffer between us, and we hadn’t needed to speak about the kiss. But in the light of day, it felt like the kiss was staring at me, demanding to be acknowledged and discussed.
