Chapter Thirty-Two #2
He ran his hands through his hair, clearly agitated. “I would not have accepted the task if I had known what you would be getting up to. But I could never say no to Mr. Scarsdale. I owe him my whole life.”
Charlotte could only stare. Hearing Benjamin’s name in this little, neglected cellar flat, a country away, had stunned her speechless.
“We should get out of here. I have no idea whose flat this is. I think your pursuers are gone.” James peeked out the door and waved over his shoulder, indicating that she should follow. Charlotte took the steps on wooden legs.
Back on the street again, they were the only two in sight. Somehow, James managed to flag down a passing hack and helped her inside.
“Please do not go off to the docks again so late. I only just got out of my shift, and only on a hunch managed to find you down at the docks. Thomas could not cover for me when I had to work late, and if you leave between seven and nine, we have no hope of finding you.”
“Thomas?” Charlotte had been struck slow, her mind reeling to try to keep up.
“Thomas, Lucas, and I are supposed to watch you. We trade off so that we can all work, but between the three of us, we are usually able to keep track.”
“Benjamin Scarsdale sent you to watch me?”
“Well, not sent. We were already here. We keep in touch with him—keep an eye on things here in Edinburgh that might be relevant…”
He stopped, clearly worried he had said too much. He was still running nervous hands through his hair and scanning out the hack window as if the adrenaline of the moment had not yet worn off.
The hack pulled up to her boarding house, where James handed her down and walked her to the door. “Please don’t go down to the docks again, Lady Charlotte. Not unless one of us is with you.”
Charlotte opened her mouth to argue, but the pure anxiety on the boy’s face was enough to stay her tongue. He had had enough of a scare this evening. And it was not his responsibility to worry about her, even if his master seemed to think it should be.
∞∞∞
As she crossed through the common room to the stairs that led up to the rooms, her landlady, Mrs. Walters, caught her attention, handing her a letter addressed to her.
“It's awfie fine paper, Miss Charlotte.” Since moving to Edinburgh, Charlotte had not used her title.
It was a vestige of a life gone, and she wanted to make a go of building a life of her own merit.
Charlotte’s heart did a flip at the familiar cream vellum of the letter.
It was the Elysium stationery. After weeks of silence, Benjamin had come crashing back into her life.
But when her trembling fingers broke the seal, she found the contents written in a rushed, cramped script that she now recognised as Elsie’s.
She had never met a lady of such breeding with such atrocious handwriting, but it fit the woman’s constantly turning mind.
Disappointment and relief warred within her.
The content itself was less of a surprise.
Elkington and Elsie were returning to Edinburgh, where they planned to live until she had her school up and running.
Charlotte knew that Elsie’s Aunt Iona had returned with Helen only a week before, and she had expected the couple to be close behind.
Elsie had invited Charlotte to join the four of them for dinner at the end of the following week.
Returning to her room, Charlotte sat on the narrow bed and reread the letter by the light of the banked fire.
Her room was modest but warm, positioned above the boarding house’s common room.
The convivial rumble of the other boarders coming up from the floor meant she never felt completely alone.
Lady McFadden had offered her room and board, but Elsie had preferred to receive all her payment in cash, allowing her to economise on her own expenses in favour of saving for the twins.
The letter was short and to the point—no opportunities to extrapolate hidden meaning from turns of phrase.
And yet, Charlotte felt herself scanning the words over and over in the vain hope that they would give her some clue as to how Benjamin fared.
That it was written on the Elysium stationery he kept in his office was her only clue—besides the sudden appearance of the boys tasked to tail her—that he must have some idea of where she was.
She had not requested that Elsie keep their correspondence secret, but Charlotte had assumed that she had, for she had received no word from Benjamin since her flight north nearly a month ago.
She had lied to herself during the first days, telling herself that she hoped he would never find out where she was.
Then the idea of him worrying over her had broken her heart anew, and she hoped he would use his vast network to track her steps—even if it was just to ensure she was well.
That had kindled the small hope that once he found her, he might come and confront her—demand why she had left him and insist that she return to his side.
That had been the most foolish hope of all, and it had taken days of distracting herself with work and discovering the endless maze of the city to quash the rising tide of longing.
It was not until now, knowing that he had indeed been keeping tabs on her and seeing a missive scrawled across his letterhead, that she realised all of that had been wrong.
The truth was far more crushing. He knew where she was—really, she should not be surprised, considering the outsized sense of duty he felt to those he considered under his protection.
It did not really matter how. He knew that she was here, and he had let her go. He was not coming to find her.