The Daring Miss Darcy (Lost Ladies of London #4)(12)

“Oh, I intend to, my dear. I just needed a moment to recover from the shock.” He slipped out of his coat, folded it neatly inside out and placed it on the end of the counter. “Help me straighten the bookcase.”

Gathering her strength, Estelle gripped the old bookcase and hauled it upright. Most of the books beneath lay untouched, and so she picked one up, blew off the dust and placed it back on the shelf.

“What are your thoughts regarding what happened here tonight?” she asked. “If not a thief, then who do you think did this and why?”

Mr Erstwhile rolled up his shirtsleeves. “Time will tell. Liars are found out eventually. They are often so wrapped up in untruths they forget what is real.”

A hard lump filled her throat. She wanted to explain that not all deceivers were black of heart.

“But you do not think money is the motive?”

“No, my dear, I do not.” He handed her another book. “Only a man with evil intentions desecrates the written word. Even those of the lower classes understand the value of books.”

“And how do you propose to discover the identity of this devil?”

The old man smiled. “I do not need to do anything other than continue as if nothing has happened. Courage and resilience are the weapons of the gods when fighting evil.” His intelligent blue eyes searched her face. “But you already know that.”

Estelle’s heart skipped a beat. Did this kind and generous man possess the ability to read her mind, to see into her soul?

“When we met on the ship to Dover, and you offered me employment, not once did you ask about my past. Why?”

He smiled. “I have learnt that regardless of where a person has been, what matters is where they are going. Besides, I know goodness when I see it. I know when a lady deserves a helping hand.”

Oh, if only her father had been as compassionate, as understanding. If only she had possessed these weapons of the gods when she’d needed them most. How different life would be.

“No words will ever express the depth of my gratitude.” How could she run now? How could she disappoint them? Was she destined to leave destruction and misery wherever she went?

“I do not need to hear the words. The truth is in your eyes. Over the years I have become adept at deciphering the unspoken. That is how one discovers what truly ails people.”

Estelle blinked rapidly, hoping the horror of all she had experienced didn’t linger there. “Wh-what do you see when you look at me?” She did not need his diagnosis to know what caused her pain.

Mr Erstwhile sighed. “I see a wealth of loss and sadness all hidden behind a helpful manner and a sweet smile.”

This man’s insight unnerved her.

“That is in the past,” she said softly. Who was she trying to fool? “Know that I am on a new path now.”

They fell silent while they examined the drawers and returned those undamaged to their rightful place.

“A wise scholar from the Orient once told me that the road to acceptance eventually leads to happiness,” Mr Erstwhile said. “Marriage to Mr Hungerford may bring the contentment you seek. It is only a matter of time before he makes you an offer.”

Marriage to anyone was impossible when her heart was not her own.

A loud rap on the front door made them both jump.

Mr Erstwhile peered through the gloom at the large shadow hovering outside. “Good heavens. If that is Mr West looking for more laudanum, then the man has a problem. If the fellow cannot wait until morning, what hope is there?”

The apothecary made his judgement based on the height and breadth of the night-time caller. Standing over six feet tall and with shoulders almost too broad to fit through the door, Estelle was relieved that he appeared too robust to be Mr Hungerford.

The impatient visitor hammered the door this time.

“Yes, yes,” Mr Erstwhile cried. “I’m coming.”

Estelle touched the old man’s arm as he passed. A deep sense of trepidation filled her chest. “Is it wise to open the door after all that has occurred this evening?”

“We often have midnight callers. You know that.”

Out of hours visitors were usually women with sickly babes, drunkards who had tripped over their own feet and sprained an ankle, or those who knew Mr Erstwhile was skilled at pulling out rotten teeth.

Estelle shrank back as she watched the apothecary unlock the door. He opened it ajar, not wide enough so that she might put a name to the shadow. She heard the rumble of a deep voice, the timbre familiar enough to prickle the hairs on her nape.

“Ah, my lord, may I say you look much improved since last we met.” Taking a small white card, Mr Erstwhile squinted as he examined it. “Please, come in out of the cold and tell me how I might be of assistance.” He gestured to the damaged items littering the floor behind him as the figure hovered on the threshold. “Forgive the mess and watch where you place your feet. I’m afraid someone sought to cause mischief while we were out this evening.”

“Then I shall not keep you long.” The rich drawl reached her ears clearly this time. Nervous tremors rushed through her, stealing her breath, leaving her dazed and somewhat unsteady on her feet. “I merely wish to thank you and enquire as to the condition of your companion. My coachman mentioned that the young lady appeared most distressed.”

“Getting lost in the fog is a harrowing experience. But rest assured, Miss Brown has fully recovered.” Mr Erstwhile stepped aside. “It has been a strange night I don’t mind telling you.”