The Wentworths’ maid showed him to the parlor, and he paced the length of the room, waiting while she fetched Jasper from his dinner party with the message of a special sale. A door opening allowed the laughter to fill the hallway and spill into the room where Bane paused with the box gripped under his arm like a walking cane.
“I say, Banebridge, I hardly believed my maid when she told me you were here, but I see now that she spoke the truth.” Wentworth waved his dinner napkin dismissively to the maid, who bobbed in a short curtsy and closed the doors. His bright gaze landed on the weapon box that Bane held. Jasper shoved the napkin into his pocket, drumming his fingers against one another. “Dare I ask if that is what I think it is?”
Bane nodded and did not stop to think of what he was about to do. All he could think of was getting enough money to hire a decent detective to find Edyth. “I have found myself in a bind, and I would like to sell.”
Jasper took the box and slowly opened it. Lifting the rapier out with a gentle reverence, he turned it this way and that in the candlelight, admiring the weapon. “It is a magnificent piece.”
“Why wouldn’t it be? I only keep it as a display piece now. Though I dare say it still rivals any new rapier. Are you offering the same amount?” Bane kept his tone on the edge of civility.
Jasper sent him a half smile and rested the piece in the velvet box once again, clasping his hands behind his back and turning to the crackling fireplace. “I see you are rather desperate, and despite what you seem to think of me, I’m a gentleman and I will not take advantage of you.”
Bane released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “That is good of you. Thank you, Wentworth.”
“I know I have earned your poor opinion of me. I am afraid that I imbibed too much the night of your party and I behaved like a drunken fool. I’ve been wanting to extend my heartfelt apologies to you and to Edyth ever since our unfortunate duel.”
Bane’s brows rose. He had never known the man to own up to his misdeeds, and he wondered what on earth had brought about such a transformation. “I appreciate your apology, sir. And I’m certain Edyth will be happy to hear of it as well.”
Jasper pulled his billfold from his coat pocket and removed a large sum. “My mother’s friend was in attendance that night, and she told Mother straightaway of my disgraceful behavior. With the threat of disinheritance hovering over me, I’ve given up the stuff.” Jasper counted the bills into Bane’s hand. “Anyway, I hope you are not under the impression that I will allow you to purchase the sword back. Once you walk away, this deal is done. Are you certain that whatever you need funds for is worthy of such a sacrifice?”
“I would sacrifice all I have.”
His brows rose. “Then it must be a noble cause. Best wishes to you, Master Banebridge.”
Without pausing to mourn the loss of his treasured weapon, Bane stepped into the soft mist of the evening in search of the one Pinkerton agent he was privileged to know. The cab ride over to the man’s brownstone took longer than he would have liked, and by the time he reached the second-floor apartment, his nerves were on edge. He refrained from pounding on the door and instead gave a polite knock before stepping back.
“Banebridge? I was just sitting down for the evening to read beside the fire.” Agent Thorpe waved him inside, eyeing him as he shrugged off his coat. “But from the looks of you, this is not a social call, is it?”
“I wish it were,” Bane replied, pausing in hanging up his coat. “Am I still welcome to join you?”
“A Pinkerton man never sleeps.” Thorpe motioned for him to step into the living room. “Have a seat and I’ll get us some coffee.”
Within a matter of minutes, Bane was seated in a worn wing-backed chair by a crackling fire with a cup of hot coffee in hand, pouring out his tale to his acquaintance.
Thorpe stroked his thick mustache. “I know you are here because you wish to hire a Pinkerton, but I can tell you right now that the price is far more than what your sword can bring. I would love to help you myself, but I’ve taken on a case recently that has me working far too many hours as it is, and I’d hate not to give your case the attention it deserves.”
Bane’s stomach dropped. “I have other assets. I can sell my club if I need to or speak with my parents. I’ll do whatever is necessary to find her.”
“We don’t need you to do something as desperate as selling your club. I have another option for you that might be to your liking. I have a nephew whose father—my brother—is a detective for the New York City police, but what my nephew lacks in experience, he has in gumption and instinct. And because he is untested as a lead detective, his prices will be much more affordable.”
Bane leaned over, resting his elbows on his thighs, weighing this piece of news, concerned. “Why does he lack experience? Will he be able to find out information about Edyth’s whereabouts in a timely manner?”
“In our line of work, we understand that speed is everything. I would not recommend him if I did not think him ready. It’s not worth the risk to your young lady.” He cleared his throat and scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “But he is untested because he is young, only eighteen.”
“Eighteen?” Bane snorted, on the verge of rising and begging his parents for the money.
Thorpe lifted his hand, staying him. “Jude has assisted me in many cases, so I personally vouch for his abilities as a detective. The young man is as smart as they come, and just you watch, he will be famous one day.”
Bane rolled back his shoulders and grunted. He would hear the man out, but if Bane did not think the lad capable, he would look elsewhere. He could not afford to be cheap. “What’s his name?”
“Jude Thorpe,” a deep voice sounded from the other side of the house. A towering, muscular young man filled the doorway with a sandwich in hand large enough to feed three men. “What can I do for you, sir?”
Within the hour, Bane had filled in the young detective and secured his services. Jude seemed competent enough, and as he promised to begin working the case at once, Bane decided to head home. He was a man of action, but nothing he had tried had accomplished anything. It was frustrating to no end, but Jude lent him a sense of comfort that at last he wasn’t floundering for an answer by himself.
At the sound of boots pounding the pavement, Bane turned to find Jude jogging up to him. “I’m sorry, sir, but I forgot to ask one thing.”
“Yes?” Bane asked, his confidence in the young man wavering.
“Do you have a picture of Miss Foster? From your description, I think I can picture her, but a depiction of her would be most helpful.”
Bane drew in a breath and mumbled, “Sorry, Edyth,” and withdrew her sketchbook. He had been determined not to break Edyth’s privacy by looking himself … but wouldn’t she prefer the eyes of a friend to see it first before a stranger?
Jude nodded to the worn book. “Is that the lady’s?”
“Yes. There may be something in here that can help us, like a self-portrait.” Bane flipped through the pages. His heart warmed at a sketch of them together, dancing under a streetlamp that night after Delmonico’s, but he didn’t see a portrait of her alone.
“Find anything?” Jude asked, shoving his hands in his pockets and shifting from foot to foot as if to keep the cold from settling into his limbs.
Bane turned back to the portrait of them, reminded himself that Jude was his best chance at finding Edyth, and handed it to the young man. “This is the best one of her face.”
Jude held it up to the nearby gaslight. “Is it a true likeness?”
Bane regarded the page, his breath catching at the sight of Edyth’s eyes looking into his with her raven curls spilling over her shoulders. “Exact,” he whispered, his voice rough as his soul ached to be with her again.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll hold on to her sketchbook for now and will return it to Miss Edyth myself when we find her,” Jude said, his tone reflecting the seriousness of their mission.
Bane rubbed the back of his neck and groaned. Edyth would be livid to know her private musings were being studied by a detective, but he was desperate. Forgive me, Edyth. “Keep it safe.”
“Leave it to me, sir.”
Knowing he had a class early the next morning, Bane bid the young man farewell. Once he reached home, he surrendered to his bed, and in his dreams, Edyth was calling to him, her voice muffled as if she were trapped. Her moans echoed his childhood nightmares of lost souls wandering the earth. When dawn’s light reached his window, he was eager to begin his class to lose himself in a place where his troubles were not allowed.
Having downed a slice of bread and two cups of coffee to ward off his incessant yawning, Bane trotted down to the great hall to find Bertram had already opened the club. Bane stretched his arms, swinging them across his chest before his series of lunges to warm his muscles, while Bertram started the fire and fetched the water for the refreshment station. With each lunge, his thoughts continued to drift to Edyth. If Jude is as good as his uncle claimed, I will discover the truth soon enough.
Bertram laid a hand on his shoulder, and Bane twisted to look at him from his position on the floor. Spotting the dazed expression on his brother’s face, he straightened at once. “Bertram? What’s wrong?”
Bertram swallowed and lifted a copy of the World in his shaking hand. “I just saw this morning’s headline and—” His voice broke.
Bane swiped the newspaper out of Bertram’s hand, his heart pounding. NEW YORK HEIRESS, EDYTH FOSTER, DIES IN TRAGIC STEAMBOAT ACCIDENT.
Chapter Fifteen
I have been here before, but when or how I cannot tell:
I know the grass beyond the door, the sweet keen smell, the sighing sound, the lights around the shore.
~ Dante Gabriel Rossetti
A scuffle broke out in the corner of the room, drawing their attention to Nurse Sweeney wrenching up a small, sickly young girl, barely a woman. Poppy. Edyth swallowed as Poppy pressed her hands to her ears, crying, “Please, stop. Stop. I was only speaking to Papa. Please. Papa, stop her!”
“And I told you to quit your yammering,” Nurse Sweeney yelled.
“Surely she will stop soon?” Edyth whispered, clutching Nellie’s hand. Nurse Sweeney plugged Poppy’s nose and mouth, only releasing her grip long enough for Poppy to gasp for air before slapping her again, the girl’s screams escalating with each blow. Edyth jumped to her feet, blind to the consequences, and bolted to her friend’s side. She grabbed Nurse Sweeney by the wrist and pulled her back as Poppy crumbled to her knees, wailing for her father.
Edyth shoved the woman away from her friend. “She is only a girl. Can’t you see Poppy is frightened? Stop it at once. The more you strike her, the more she cries out, you fool.”
Edyth knelt down and brushed Poppy’s stringy brown hair from her eyes, feeling the singe of her fevered flesh on her fingertips. “You’re burning up,” she murmured, and twisted around to catch the attention of the head nurse who was still seated at her desk.
Nurse Sweeney seized Edyth by the nape of her neck and threw her to the floor. “And I told you, duchess, that you are nothing here.” Pointed boots slammed into her ribs. “You hear me? Nothing!”
Curling into a ball, Edyth wrapped her arms over her head, but the nurse still found a way to scratch at her face and strike her cheeks. All Edyth could do was wait for the beating to be over, knowing that if she fought back, she would be sent to the Lodge, and she couldn’t bear the constant moans of the patients, not again. I will not cry out. I will not. A kick to her head sent her neck snapping back. God, deliver me from the will of mine enemies, she prayed, holding the scriptures close to her heart. Deliver me.
She swallowed her groans and imagined herself in her happiest place, with Bane in the fencing hall. The pain threatened to consume her, but just when she was beginning to see the darkness curling toward her, welcoming her into its cool embrace, the bang of a door slamming sent the nurse scurrying back. Edyth froze, not certain she was truly gone, knowing that sometimes the nurses enjoyed teasing their prey.
Hearing firm footsteps coming down the hall, she lifted a swelling lid to find a pair of well-made men’s shoes in front of her. She decided to risk it and looked up to find Lavinia’s beau. “Roger?” she whispered, her mouth cracking and the taste of copper reaching her tongue. “Is that you?”
His jaw dropped. “Dear Lord in heaven.” He ran his hand over his mouth and glanced up as if to ensure that the nurses were far away before he whispered, “What have they done to you?”
She grasped his sleeve. “Poppy. You have to see to Poppy’s fever. And—and me. You have to get me out of here or they will kill me and N–Nellie. She is of sound mind. You have to help us.”
“Stop your rambling and come now,” Doctor Hawkins said, loud enough for all to hear. He hoisted her up and looked to the head nurse. “I’m taking the patient to a medical room.”
Nurse Madison glimpsed up from her magazine, as if oblivious to the behavior of her fellow nurse. “But we are about to get this group dressed for the ball tonight, sir.”
“I’m certain you can start with the others, and I shall return her to her chamber in ample time once I ensure that she has no broken bones,” Roger replied sternly, his tone brooking no argument. He escorted Edyth from the hall, gripping her by the elbow and taking her to the examination room, closing the door firmly behind them both.
Edyth sank onto the long cot that smelled of fresh linen, and moaned. She couldn’t resist laying her head atop the clean, crisp bedding and resting for the first time since she had been brought to this wretched hellhole.
Roger crossed the small room and poured a glass of water. He held it out to her, and she downed it at once. He refilled the glass, silently watching her drain it a second time. She used the back of her hand to wipe her mouth, flinching at her cuts and finding streaks of blood staining her hand.
He took a cloth and an amber bottle from the medicine cabinet, pressed the cloth to the mouth of the bottle and flipped it over for a moment before applying the damp cloth to her lips. She sucked in a breath at the taste of witch hazel. She had used it for many a scrape from her antics in the past, but never for wounds of this magnitude. She grimaced as he gingerly touched a gash at her hairline.
He shook his head and retrieved a needle and black thread. “Looks like I’ll have to stitch you up. Do I need to call someone in to hold you down, or can you bear it?”
She gave a short laugh. “I think I can manage to bear the pain.”
“Very well, Miss Foster.” He gave her a pitiable look and removed a pair of spectacles from his pocket, setting them on the edge of his rather large nose before he threaded his needle.
The use of her name shook her, and she gripped his arm, her dirt-encrusted fingernails digging into his sleeve. “Roger, you have to get me out of here.”
“Keep still,” he chided, his needle hovering over her forehead.
Pain seared to life once more with the pierce of the needle, her eyes stinging at the tug of the thread through her flesh as he pulled, each stitch threatening the contents of her stomach.
“Almost done,” he said, and snipped off the end. “There. You did well. Now, I must see to the rest of you.” He gently pressed her limbs and rib cage, searching for broken bones.
In spite of her bruises, she kept her eyes focused on his and did not flinch when he applied more witch hazel to her cuts. “Will you help me?”
“Honestly, Miss Foster, if I didn’t know you or your cousin, I would assume you are mad.” He gestured to her person and shook his head before setting aside the cotton and bottle. “You look positively feral.”
She pushed herself off the cot and wobbled. He reached out to steady her, but she shrugged him off and straightened her shoulders, lifting her head. “If I look feral, as you say, it is because I’ve been kidnapped, swam in the East River in an attempt to escape their treatment here, and have survived many painful blows. I doubt most soc
iety women would be standing, much less coherent, after the inferno I’ve been through.”
He thumbed his reddening ear and cleared his throat. “Y–yes, I suppose so. I’ve only worked here for a couple of weeks, and I’ve already found at least a dozen cruelties, which I do my best to remedy, but there is only so much that I can change without the rest of the staff behind me. I am the newest of the sixteen doctors on staff, and I’m not sure what I can get away with at present. If you give me time—”
“I have no time to give.” Her voice grew rough.
“Surely they will leave you alone for a while, at least until you recover.”
“Are you saying that I am only another situation that you are helpless to change?” She tilted her head to one side, her tone void of emotion. She did not dare allow herself to hope any longer … not when he had called her feral and treated her like she’d lost her senses.
He rested a hand on her shoulder. “No. I will do whatever I must to get you out of here. You are in a dire situation that I would not wish on even my great-aunt. And if I would not wish this on her, a most disagreeable lady, I would never wish it on Lavinia’s cousin. Besides, I have already begun to help you.”
Her shoulders loosened some as the nervous knife in her stomach halted its twisting. “You have? Did you know I was here?”
He did not meet her gaze. “Banebridge and your cousin have been inquiring after you, and they came here with me yesterday morning, but as your name was not in the ledger, I said I would search for you, but of course, I didn’t find you until now.”
Bane is looking for me. Bane! Edyth’s chilled body flooded with warmth. “And now that you have found me, you can tell them, and get me out of here! Why on earth would you say you needed time when you have the help you need at hand?”
The Gray Chamber Page 15