“Who the hell are you?” The voice held unexpected strength and humor.
“Ryan Hunter. I knew your niece, Felicia.”
He waved his hand. “Come where I can see you. And you, you stay over there.”
Ryan turned to see that the maid was still in the room. Now she settled into a chair in the corner. She reached into a basket at her feet and began to knit. Apparently, she spent a lot of time in that corner, and Ryan presumed that she was more nurse than maid these days.
As ordered, he stepped closer, and as his eyes adjusted, he saw that William looked older than his seventy-six years. A man who’d been worn down by more than just time.
“You did a bit more than know her,” William said, and the small smile alone seemed to make him stronger. “The way Randall told me, you married her. Tried to save her.”
“I did. I didn’t realize Mr. Cartwright had told you. The circumstances were…odd.”
William chuckled. “They were indeed. That girl was always getting into odd situations. Adored that little thing. Special. That’s what she was. Couldn’t have loved her more if she’d been my own blood grandchild. Hell, I couldn’t have loved her more if there’d been two of her.”
“She was special, yes. But sir, I was hoping to ask you—”
“Poppycock!”
Ryan straightened. “I’m sorry?”
“No, no. Not no.” He tapped the end of the pen on a flimsy paper book in his lap. “The puzzle. Crossword. This one’s been a mighty bugger, but I finally conquered it.” He closed the book, then held it out. “Well, come here.”
Ryan came, then took the book that the man extended. “Ah, shall I toss it?”
“Heavens no.” He lowered his voice. “Been doing crosswords all my life. Always save the books.” He spoke with the seriousness of someone revealing state secrets.
William gestured to a shelf stacked with magazines and other books, and Ryan added the latest completed book of crosswords to the pile.
“Bring me a fresh book,” William said. “Then tell me why you’re here. Something about my house in Somerset, wasn’t it? I do miss the country life.”
“Actually, I’m trying to learn the name of an attorney that Randall had retained for some private affairs. Did he ever mention the lawyer to you?”
William made a phht noise. “I wasn’t involved in the business. Hate lawyers. Damn snakes. I saw a python once. Marvelous creature.”
Ryan drew in a breath. “They are. Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Actually, I’m concerned that someone may be impersonating Felicia,” Ryan said as he handed him the new book.
“What? Now?” William opened the book and started scribbling in answers.
“Yes, sir. Has anyone contacted you suggesting that your niece is alive? Or suggesting that she is your niece?”
The man peered at him. “Why would they?”
“Sometimes people do odd things.” He was glad to know Felicia hadn’t been gaslighting her uncle, but that only doubled down on the question of what her endgame was.
“Deadlocked.”
“I’m sorry?”
“The word, the word.” He tapped the pen. “Pay attention, boy. A four-letter word for deadlocked.”
“Ah, even?”
William pointed the pen at him. “Clever. I do imagine she’s nearby, sometimes.” He sighed. “The regrets of an old man, I suppose. I used to enjoy talking with her. Had a good head on her shoulders.” He sighed. “Even after all this time, I’ll still catch a glimpse of her, and it takes me back.”
“A glimpse?”
He waved the words away. “Imagination, my wife says. And I suppose she’s right. And I’m getting old. Used to be I only thought about her. Or I’d notice someone and see the resemblance. Now I’m starting to see Felicia herself.”
Ryan took a step forward without realizing it. “Have you? How often?”
“Oh, no. Just the one time. About a week ago. If it happens again, I’ll have to tell my doctor.” He picked up the large walking stick and easily held it level. Apparently the man was stronger than he looked.
He was pointing it toward the window across the room. The one which faced the street. “Right there on the sidewalk. Told my wife, too. Made her come look. She said I was imagining things.” He sighed. “I probably was. Ahh, who can say? Pass me that book.”
It took a second for Ryan to shift gears, but he followed William’s sightline to the small table topped by a crossword puzzle dictionary and an illustrated history of China.
“Both of them. Can’t do my puzzles if I don’t stay sharp.”
“No, sir,” Ryan said, amused. “This is a wonderful library, by the way. And the house is pretty spiffy, too.”
William chuckled. “Spiffy, is it? I agree with you on the library. This room—it’s like a treasure to me. The rest of the house? More like an albatross.”
Ryan nodded. “I imagine it’s difficult to maintain.”
William waved a hand. “Phht. That’s what staff’s for. I’d rather move back to Somerset. Grew up there, but my wife loves London. She’s determined we keep the place.” His shoulders sagged. “Feels like blood money to me. This place should have been Felicia’s. That poor girl. Never should have gone down there. You’re a good man to have gone after her.”
“I tried,” Ryan said, feeling the familiar tug of guilt in his stomach. “I failed.”
“You tried,” William said firmly. “There are a lot who wouldn’t even have done that.”
“I admired her very much,” Ryan admitted. And now he feared that she’d been playing him all along.
He sighed, trying to decide what to say next. He didn’t want to tell this kind man that his niece seemed to have resurfaced—and that there was good reason to believe that her sudden reappearance meant that she’d been a spy all those years ago. Not just in intelligence, but actively involved in bringing about the coup.
But did William deserve to know? Would he start imagining her everywhere? That couldn’t be good for him.
No, better to stick with his original intent and not tell William anything. Not now. Maybe not ever. Only if it became imperative. Because how the hell could he bear to give such dark news to an old man who’d loved a little girl?
On the other side of the room, the maid rang a bell. “Time for your medicine, Mr. William,” she said, going to a sideboard and returning with a glass of water and a tiny paper cup. “Mrs. Carolyn made me promise to remind you to nap. You know what the doctor said.”
“The hell I do. I don’t even remember the damn appointment.”
“I think that’s the point, sir.” She smiled politely at Ryan. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to cut this short.”
“Hmmph. My wife’s got this one wrapped around her finger. Watches me like a bloody hawk.”
“It’s fine,” Ryan said, making up his mind to stay silent. “Thank you, Mr. Atkinson, for being so hospitable.”
“Wait! Wait! Let me write down the number for that estate agent. He can show you the Somerset house. You take a look, now.” He scribbled a phone number in the crossword puzzle book, then ripped out the page for Ryan.