“Did you see or hear anything more of Nightingale?” Dr. Carter asked.
Before anyone could respond, a female servant arrived with a soup terrine.
“Not a peep,” Alex said, when they were alone again. “I trust Ellis has men on the watch?”
“On all sides of the house,” Dr. Carter said. “He also sent two men to the village—one at the train station, the other at the inn.”
Alex nodded. “It’s possible I’m being overly cautious. While we must take Nightingale’s vendetta against me and our family seriously, he hasn’t been particularly swift about executing it. There’s no reason to suppose he’ll act immediately.”
“But don’t you see?” Evie said. “It’s precisely because the vendetta, as you call it, is of such long standing that you should be cautious. Imagine you’re Captain. You’ve spent years, more than a decade, plotting. You’ve invested time and money training an accomplice, and now, when the time for revenge is finally at hand, that accomplice switches sides. How would you react?”
Dr. Carter sighed. “Miss Jones is right. A monomaniac like Nightingale, if thwarted, might very well become violent.”
“So, in your professional opinion—”
“You are right to do as you have.”
Perhaps because of his status, Alex had a tendency to underestimate threats to his person. If it had been his safety alone in question, Evie suspected they’d still be in London. She was very grateful to Dr. Carter for stating things so plainly.
“What will you do now, Evie?” Helen asked.
“I’m to leave, but…” She glanced at Alex.
“I owe her money.”
“That’s not strictly true. I haven’t fulfilled my side of the bargain.” She was supposed to admit her fraud publicly.
“You did all you could. Neither one of us had any idea he knew Helen’s mother. We couldn’t have foreseen this. After the risk you took with Nightingale, you’ve earned every penny.”
Debatable, though Evie had every intention of taking the money. She wasn’t a fool. Pride of that silly sort was for the wealthy.
“In any case,” she said, emphasizing each word so that he would know she didn’t want to continue that particular discussion in front of others, “I’ll have to get a train to Southampton where I can board a ship and go…wherever it’s going. It doesn’t matter where I end up, though I’d prefer somewhere where they speak English since it’s the only language I know. I can decide what to do next once I’m clear of Captain.”
Helen frowned but said nothing. While the next course—roast pheasant—was served, they all went quiet. Even when the servants withdrew again, conversation was sporadic, each person distracted by their own thoughts. Evie ought to have enjoyed this rare glimpse into how the other half lived. Three-course meals in huge private dining rooms were not something she usually experienced, but instead she kept thinking about Mags. With no stove in their lodgings, they’d always eaten together in chop houses. Noisy and smoky as those places were, they’d had some jolly times.
She sighed. If she didn’t stop feeling sorry for herself, she was going to waste these last days with Alex. She refused to do that. If this was all the time they had, she wanted to make the most of it.
…
The bedroom Alex took her to after dinner seemed far too good for a guest room, yet it wasn’t at the front of the house as master bedchambers usually were. Its greens and golds had a soothing effect. She particularly admired the four-post tester festooned with a silk canopy and purple hangings.
Evie turned to Alex who was loosening his tie. “Is this your room?”
“Yes, it’s mine.” He stopped, the loose ends of the tie still draped over his shoulders. “Is that all right?”
He didn’t seem worried that she might say no, but perhaps it occurred to him that his presumption might offend. Maybe he should have asked but she wasn’t going to quibble. “Of course.” To prove it, she began unbuttoning the front of her dress, her movements unhurried, like a wife undressing in front of her husband after a long life together. “Why did Helen say ‘poor Jude’?”
He smiled as he removed his jacket. “She thinks he works too hard. Which he does.”
“You told me he’s married. Where is Mrs. Ellis?” She let her bodice fall to the floor and began unhooking her skirt.
“There’s no great mystery. Like many couples who marry for practical reasons rather than affection, they choose to live apart much of the time.” His carelessness seemed genuine but the arrangement struck her as strange.
“Interesting. What were the practical reasons? Money?”
“My father arranged the match as a favor of sorts to her father.”
“Why would Mr. Ellis agree to such a thing?”
“I suppose he wanted to please my father. He was unlikely to inherit the dukedom and, with no other prospects, he needed to keep the old duke on side.”
Very practical but there was a fine line between practical and mercenary. Evie wasn’t sure where Mr. Ellis’s conduct fell. “And Mrs. Ellis? Was she happy with the husband her father arranged?”
“I don’t think she had much choice. Something happened, some youthful indiscretion on her part, and her reputation was in jeopardy.”
“You don’t know what it was?”
“No, I was never in my father’s confidence. He was not lenient when it came to other people’s frailties, so ordinarily he would have left her to her fate or perhaps married her off to someone outside the family, someone of comparatively low status. Since he chose Ellis for her, in all likelihood it was something he feared would reflect badly on the family. Knowing him, it was a minor transgression. Small sins loomed large in my father’s eyes.”
“Do you know her well? What’s she like?” Wearing only her combination by now, she stood with her hands on her hips.
“Fairly well. She’s another distant cousin. An artist. A free-thinker.” He finished unbuttoning his waistcoat and allowed the garment to gape open. “Not attributes of which my father approved. He probably expected Ellis to have a moderating effect on her.”
She walked toward him and placed her palm on his crisp, white shirtfront, over his heart. “A free-thinking artist?” Difficult to imagine the staid Mr. Ellis with a woman like that. But what about the man she suspected lurked beneath? She tried to imagine marrying someone while maintaining the pretense that she was Evangeline Jones, prudish spiritualist. Impossible. Was that why Ellis didn’t live with his wife? Or perhaps it wasn’t by choice. Perhaps his wife, amid the terrible intimacy of marriage, had discovered the real man and fled.