by Fanny Walsh
“Uncle, I nearly lost my life, and more than once. How can you say that I am overreacting?” Mary had asked, numb with disbelief. “How can you not believe me?”
“Darling, if you could hear yourself, you would see how ridiculous your words sound, even to your own beloved uncle.”
“I do hear myself, Uncle. The words are coming from my own mouth. But I was there, and you were not. You did not see what I saw, or experience what I experienced. It was not you who almost died.”
It had taken some convincing, but at last her uncle had decided to humor her desire to attend this meeting with Beatrice’s investigator and Duncan. His single stipulation was that he accompany her. For her comfort, he had said.
However, as she watched Duncan leave the table in such a state and battled the urge to go after him, she had never felt less comfortable.
As if her uncle read her thoughts, his attention snapped back to her. She quickly averted her gaze and prayed that he would not come over to her table. Fortunately, he settled back in his seat, but he did not take his eyes off her.
She suspected that she knew the reason, too. She regrettably remembered that she had at last told her uncle about the procedure that Duncan wanted to do on her leg.
She had hesitated to tell him, because she did not want her uncle to think that she thought him incapable of tending to her leg, as he had immediately after the fire. But she felt that, if she were going to be open with her uncle about the situation at hand, she should be open with him about her true relationship with Duncan.
At least, as honest as she could be. She found it easier to tell her uncle about the procedure than it was to tell him about her growing feelings about him.
To her surprise, her uncle’s feelings about the procedure were not what she expected them to be.
“That procedure will be a waste of your time,” her uncle had said.
“How could you say that?” Mary asked.
“Because I examined your leg after the… tragedy. If there was anything to be done for you, I could have told you right away.”
“But your training is not as extensive as Lord Tornight’s.”
“Perhaps not, my dear, but I had the advantage of examining you before time had lapsed. If there was anything to be done about your leg, I would certainly have learned about it before now.”
“But what if you are wrong, Uncle?”
“Pish posh, my dear. Trust me, if there was anything that could be done for your poor leg, I would be the first to tell you.”
“But you are not a trained physician,” Mary had said. “Your training is wonderful, but it does not go beyond that of a nurse. Duncan is a full-fledged physician, and he believes that he can help me with my leg.”
“Puh,” Mary’s uncle had said. “I would wager that I had every bit as much training as young Tornight has.
“If that is true, then why did you not know about the procedure that can be done for my leg?”
“Do not be daft, Mary. I have always known of such procedures, but I also know that none have been exceptionally successful. I saw no reason to get up your hopes when nothing would ever come of such a thing. Which, I might add, speaks a great deal to Tornight’s skill and medical advice, in my opinion.”
“Well, at least he was willing to offer me a piece of hope with the procedure.”
“You mean he was willing to offer you a piece of false hope,” Mary’s uncle had said. “If I had wished to hurt you further, I would have offered to perform such a procedure on you myself.”
For some reason, however, Mary could not quite believe her uncle. While it was apparent that there was some sort of operation that would help her leg, she could not convince herself that her uncle knew of it, or knew how successful it could be.
For a reason she could not explain, she trusted Duncan’s word about the procedure above her uncle’s. Nevertheless, she had at last consented when he insisted on attending the meeting with her, and she had dropped the subject of the operation on her leg.
However, she had not given up on the idea. Rather, she was more resolved than ever to allow Duncan to do it. In fact, she seemed even more certain in Duncan’s optimism than she was before.
A nagging thought began to nibble away at the back of Mary’s mind, after all her uncle’s protests to allow someone to help her make her leg better, but she could not identify the thought, or from which it originates. Therefore, she tried to push it to the back of her mind and focus only on Duncan’s optimism on her condition, as well as on the promising words that the investigator had for Beatrice.
“Ladies, it has been wonderful, but I must excuse myself,” Mr. Langdon said, interrupting Mary’s thoughts.
Mary had been surprised by the youth of Beatrice’s investigator, but she was confident after their conversation that he was every bit as skilled as Beatrice had professed.
Mary also had not failed to notice the specific attentiveness with which her friend had listened to the young investigator speak, and she silently hoped that Beatrice had found a wonderful potential partner as well as an efficient investigator in Mr. Langdon.
Perhaps even she would have been susceptible to Mr. Langdon’s charms, were she not so enthralled with Duncan. She shook her head, embarrassed at the thought.
“Of course, Mr. Langdon,” Mary heard her friend say. She took Beatrice’s cue and rose from the table as Mr. Langdon began making his departure.
“Please, ladies, keep your seats. There is no need to rise,” he said, a light and pleasant tone in his voice.
“Thank you, Mr. Langdon,” Beatrice said, a slight blush flooding her cheeks. Mary hid a smile behind her hand watching her friend interact with the investigator.
“It has been a pleasure,” Mary said, nodding her head as the man stood.
“The pleasure was mine, I’m sure,” he said, looking only at Beatrice as he spoke. Mary bit back another smile.
“When can I expect to hear more from you?” Beatrice asked.
“I should know more within the next week or so, I believe,” Mr. Langdon said.
“Wonderful,” Beatrice said. “Thank you again, for everything.”
“Not at all,” Mr. Langdon said bowing. “Until then, my lady.”
Mary had to hide another smile when Mr. Langdon kissed Beatrice’s hand while bidding her farewell. She waited until the investigator was out of earshot before turning to her friend.
“How long did you say you have known Mr. Langdon?” Mary asked, her eyes twinkling.
Beatrice’s cheeks flushed again.
“Oh, no Mary. It is nothing like that,” she said. “Although he is very handsome and charming, is he not?”
“He is certainly not what I expected in an investigator,” Mary agreed, watching Mr. Langdon stop to chat with another patron.
“Speaking of charming, where is Duncan?”
Mary frowned, remembering Duncan’s sudden and very strange departure.
“He excused himself some time ago and dashed off,” Mary said.
Beatrice furrowed her brows and scanned the room.
“Does he know those gentlemen?” Beatrice asked.
Mary followed Beatrice’s gaze to the table which had arrested her attention. Duncan sat with three other men, appearing to be in intense conversation with one of them.
“I am not sure,” Mary said, her concern growing.
Beatrice sensed Mary’s apprehension and smiled.
“It is likely just a patient of his to whom he is giving a well-deserved lecture about an ailment,” she said.
“Perhaps,” Mary said, wishing she could be as certain about it as Beatrice sounded.
“Should we leave and try to finish speaking with Duncan later?” Beatrice asked.
“No,” Mary said firmly. “We should wait and see if he comes back.”
Beatrice blinked, surprised at her friend’s vehemence.
Mary’s expression softened.
“It is just that he will want to hear what we k
now at once. Besides, it would be rude to just leave him without saying goodbye.”
“Yes, that would be quite rude of us,” Beatrice agreed. “And we would not want him to miss a chance to take your hand again.” Beatrice smiled broadly at Mary, who flushed deeply.
“You are too wicked,” she said, smiling.
Mary changed the subject and steered the conversation back to some of the things the investigator had said. Her uncle still seemed to have his full attention on Duncan, but she could not risk him overhearing something she or Beatrice said about Duncan.
As they reviewed the conversation they had had with Mr. Langdon, Mary smelled a familiar, terrible tang. Convinced she must be wrong, she closed her eyes and took a long, deep breath. But, rather than the smell vanishing, it grew stronger.
“Mary, is that—?” Beatrice asked, confirming Mary’s most terrible fear.
Mary’s eyes flew open, and she saw smoke quickly filling the room. Her vision blurred, as much from fear and her terrible memories associated with fire as from the rapidly billowing smoke.
She froze as she heard the screams of the other teahouse patrons, recalling the shrieks she had heard from her family as the fire had claimed them. She heard more than saw the overturning of tables and people pushing and shoving as they frantically sought safety from the flames.
The shattering of the glass water pitchers reminded her of the sounds of the breaking windows as her home burned and she felt that she might swoon.
She tried to quell the panic in her mind to locate a way to safety. With terrible dread, she realized that their part of the teahouse had no windows.
Mary grabbed Beatrice’s hand and pulled her from her seat, preparing to make a run for the entrance to the room.
To her horror, she realized it had been blocked. The room was filling with smoke and flames impossibly fast. Through the haze, Mary could see that it was the tapestries that were ablaze. The room would be completely consumed in a matter of moments.
Fear seized Mary, and she screamed.
Just then, something cold and wet fell over Mary. She blinked through the smoke and sudden wetness to see the investigator draping his now sodden coat over Beatrice and her, the table’s empty water pitcher in his left hand.
“Quickly, ladies. The room will be engulfed in a matter of moments. We must get you out of here,” Mr. Langdon shouted over the roar of the flames.
“The entrance has been blocked,” Beatrice said.
“You must trust me,” Mr. Langdon said.
Numb with fear and confusion, Mary allowed the investigator to lead Beatrice and her to a small, unseen door in the corner. Fortunately, the fire seemed, for the moment, to be contained within the room in which they were trapped.
Mr. Langdon guided first Beatrice through the door into the next room, then Mary. He began coughing as he tried to follow behind, and Mary feared that he would collapse from smoke inhalation.
Mary took his arm and guided the investigator through the doorway into safety. He put his hands on his knees and coughed, trying to catch his breath.
“Thank you, my lady,” he said breathlessly.
“You saved our lives,” Mary said. “It seemed only right that I do you the same kindness.”
“We must get out of here,” Mr. Langdon said. “The entire teahouse could catch fire soon, so we don’t have much time. Hopefully, everyone still inside the room will see the way out and manage to escape, too.”
“Wait,” Mary said, frozen. “Where is Duncan? Where is my uncle?”
She looked around wildly, panic taking over her limbs. In the thick haze of smoke, she could barely see Beatrice and Mr. Langdon standing in front of her, let alone Duncan or her uncle.
She rushed away from her companions, certain in that moment that both her uncle and Duncan had met the same fate as her family.
Finding a staircase leading to the second floor, she bolted up the stairs to find a way to escape, just as the smoke began to fill the room.
Chapter 18
Duncan approached the table, trying to appear calm and collected.
“Good day, gentlemen,” he said, grinning. “Is there room for one more in this game?”
“Sorry, but this is a private affair,” a man with an unkempt beard said.
Theodore jumped at the sound of Duncan’s voice. He opened his mouth to speak, but Duncan interjected.
“Hello, cousin,” he said. “How wonderful to see you.”
“This is your cousin?” the other man asked.
“Y-yes,” Theodore said. “Gentlemen, I would like you to meet my cousin, Duncan Winstanley.”
“The good doctor,” the bearded man said. Duncan bowed his head, although he did not believe he had ever seen the man before.
“Of course, you may join us, doctor,” the other man said, raking up the cards from the table and beginning to shuffle.
No one seemed to protest that he had done so in the middle of a hand, which made Duncan all the more suspicious. Nevertheless, he took the empty seat next to his cousin with a smile.
The bearded man offered him a drink. He hesitated, then accepted it graciously. He believed that he might need the fortification for the conversation he intended to have with his cousin.
“Care to wager on the game?” the bearded man asked.
“What are the stakes?” Duncan asked, sparing his cousin a sharp glance.
“Two hundred pounds,” the other man said.
Duncan breathed a sigh. While he was glad that his cousin had opted for a lower-stakes game, he was furious once again that he would go back on his promise.
“Consider me in,” Duncan said. The other two men blinked in surprise, then continued dealing the cards. Theodore stared at Duncan, wide-eyed. Duncan pretended not to notice as he picked up his cards.
The hand was a relatively short one. Duncan was no stranger to playing cards, even though he rarely felt the need to make wagers. He hoped, however, that he had not walked into a trap with card hustlers. Luck favored him, however, and the game was honest. In the end, he won.
“Thank you for a delightful game,” he said, offering his hand to the two strange men. Each shook his hand, but neither looked especially pleased to hand over their share of the money.
Duncan looked at Theodore, again offering his hand.
“Well played, cousin,” Duncan said. Theodore shook his hand weakly. Duncan took a bit of pleasure in seeing the pallor of his cousin’s face. He already knew what he was going to do with the money, but he wanted to see his cousin sweat a moment longer.
“Would you care for a rematch?” the bearded man said, his eyes cold.
“Another time, perhaps,” Duncan said with a polite smile.
“Are you quite sure? It would be double or nothing,” the second man said, stealing a glance at his partner.
“Thank you, gentlemen, but I am afraid I must decline,” Duncan said. The men tensed their jaws, but said nothing more.
The two men stood to depart, and Theodore followed suit. Duncan rose and clapped a hand on his cousin’s shoulder.
“Please, won’t you join me for a celebratory drink?” Duncan asked, looking pointedly at his cousin.
“Of course, Cousin,” Theodore said. Duncan bade the other two men a final farewell, then reclaimed his seat and gestured for Theodore to do the same.
“Duncan, please, let me explain,” Theodore began.
Duncan held out the money he had won in the game, effectively silencing Theodore.
His cousin just stared at the money dumbly.
“Did you really think I had any interest in some card game wager?” Duncan asked.
His cousin winced at his words. Under other circumstances, Duncan might have felt guilty about the sharpness of his words. Today, however, he was on a mission.
“So, you joined the game just to help me?” Theodore asked, his voice unstable.
“No,” Duncan admitted. He took a large sip of the drink the man had offered him. “I have so
me questions I must ask you.”
“Oh?” Theodore said. The color was beginning to return to his face. He settled back in his chair and drank from his own glass.
Duncan thought for a moment about how to begin the conversation. He knew that, if he did not proceed carefully, his cousin might bolt, leaving all his questions unanswered.
