Enlightened (15 page)

At last, Euan returned. He looked weary to the very bone. He took his seat at the table beside David and poured himself another glass of ale.

“How is she?” David asked.

“She’s been waiting for the news about her father for weeks,” he said. “She knew it was coming. But it was still a shock to her to get it.”

“We never really believe it till it happens,” David agreed. They drank together, a silent toast.

“I wish I’d met him,” Euan said after a while. “I’d’ve liked to have shaken his hand, just once.”

“He was a good man,” David said. “You’d have liked him.”

“He certainly raised his daughter to be a fine woman.”

“He did that.”

David glanced at the clock. It was after ten and very dark out. “I should go.” He sighed. “I meant to be away long before now. It’s late.”

Euan frowned. “You can’t go, Davy. Stay the night. It’s far too late to be out walking on your own on these streets, especially with you being a stranger to London.”

David opened his mouth to protest, but then he remembered how long the walk here had been. He wasn’t sure he could bear it all the way back, not with his leg aching as it was now, and Euan was right about how late it was.

And then there was the fact that he didn’t want to face Murdo yet.

For a moment, he hesitated, wondering if Murdo might be concerned at him not returning, but then, he reasoned, Murdo would be far more incensed at the idea of him walking through the strange dark streets on his own.

“All right,” he conceded. “But where am I to sleep?”

“I’ll make you up a bed in the parlour,” Euan said. “Will you be all right on the floor?”

David pasted on a smile. “Of course,” he lied.

At some point in the early hours, David reflected that he had grown far too used to featherbeds. All night, he tossed and turned on the floor. The hard surface was barely cushioned by the blankets Euan had laid down to form a makeshift mattress. By the time dawn broke, he felt like he’d barely slept an hour and his hip throbbed.

He was lying on his back, willing himself back to sleep, when Euan tiptoed into the parlour.

“Sorry to disturb you,” Euan whispered. “I need my notebook. I’m going up to Regent’s Canal to speak to some of the workers there.”

“For a story?” David asked, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes.

“Yes. About the working conditions.”

“Not to praise them, I take it?”

Euan’s only answer was a derisive snort.

“How’s
Flint’s
doing?” David asked.
Flint’s Political Register
was the paper Euan worked for, a radical periodical, popular amongst ordinary people and hated by the government.

“It’s selling well,” Euan said, “which has its drawbacks. We’ve not had a raid for a while, but you can’t get complacent. We’ll be moving the press again next month. We always have to try to stay a step ahead.” Anxiety clouded his eyes. “My greatest worry is that somehow my working for
Flint’s
may bring Lizzie to someone’s attention. Kinnell is involved in politics—in the margins, it is true, but he is a government supporter and, as you know, our little rag has attracted some unwelcome attention from that quarter.”

David sat up, frowning. “You have to be careful. You know Kinnell’s already been in London looking for Elizabeth. Have you considered moving elsewhere? There are other papers. Other cities.”

“I’ve suggested it to Lizzie already, but she didn’t want me to give up
Flint’s
. I think I’m going to have to insist, though, given recent events. The worry’s killing me. Especially now the baby’s coming.”

“You should go. Elizabeth has the income from her trust that you can rely on while you find new work.”

“I don’t like to rely on her money.”

“I thought you believed in equality between men and women,” David replied.

Euan flushed at that. “That’s just what Lizzie would say,” he admitted. Then he looked at the clock and sighed. “I have to go, but I’m going to raise this with her again this evening. Do you think you might also mention it to her before you leave? She’ll listen to you. She thinks every word that drops from your lips is perfect wisdom.”

“Well, she’s perfectly right, of course,” David answered, smiling. Euan just rolled his eyes.

Once the other man had said his farewells and departed, David rose and put away his bed. There was no point trying to sleep any longer. He might be exhausted, but the bright morning light and the pain in his hip and leg would conspire to keep him awake.

After a perfunctory wash, he dressed. He’d removed his trousers and waistcoat before going to bed so they were in reasonable order, but it was difficult to tie his wilted neckcloth in anything but the most basic of knots.

Once dressed, he checked his appearance in a cloudy mirror over the fireplace, noting that he must’ve lain oddly on his pillow because his hair—his now far-too-long hair—was sticking up at an odd angle at the back. He was trying to smooth it down with water when Elizabeth entered the parlour in a plain muslin gown and her long, brown hair about her shoulders. He’d never seen her with her hair down before, and it felt uncomfortably intimate to witness this private state of being.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Good morning. Are you feeling better?”

She nodded, seeming embarrassed. “I’m sorry about last night.”

“Don’t be. I only wish I’d considered that it might be too soon to be telling you everything your father said to me.”

“It wasn’t too soon,” she replied. “It was exactly the right time. But I’m sorry you had to witness what came after. I made you uncomfortable.”

“No, not at all. Only sorry and concerned.”

“Well, there’s no need for you feel either of those things.” She took a deep breath, then gave a slightly forced smile. “Are you having trouble with your hair? Shall I fetch you some of Euan’s pomade?”

David smiled back. “That might be wise. I look like a hedgehog. Shall I get the range going in the meantime?”

“Would you?” She sounded grateful for the reprieve from the tedious task.

She slipped away again while David went to the kitchen and began to clear out the ashes of last night’s fire, ignoring his protesting leg. This had been one of his jobs when he lived at home as a boy. First thing when he got up each morning, clearing out the kitchen fireplace for his mother. It felt strangely comforting to do it again now.

When Elizabeth came back, she’d fastened her hair in a loose knot at the back of her head and put an apron over her gown. She handed him a little blue jar, and when he pried the lid off, he was assailed by the clean, astringent scent of pine. He worked some of the paste into his hair and smoothed it down, more successfully this time, while Elizabeth put a kettle of water on the fire and began slicing bread.

She handed him a toasting fork wordlessly, and he stabbed it into a slice of bread to hold over the flames. They drew their chairs up to the fire and sat companionably, toasting their bread while the water boiled.

“Is
anything
nicer than buttered toast?” Elizabeth wondered aloud once they’d begun eating. Her chin gleamed with a sheen of melted butter and her face beamed. When David chuckled, she laughed too. “I’ve become very attached to toast lately,” she admitted.

It was nice too, even with day-old bread and tea brewed a little too weak so as to eke the leaves out a little longer.

“What will you do today?” Elizabeth asked.

“I mean to visit your uncle,” he said. “I need to speak to him about moving the trust. It was his idea, so there will be no difficulty, but I want to ask if he has any recommendations as to who else might take it on.” He paused, then added, “Of course, it depends where you intend to settle. I should place it with a solicitor situated close to where you will be.”

She frowned at that and looked up. “What do you mean? We are settled here.”

David paused. “But is that wise?” he asked. “Kinnell has already been looking for you in London. Perhaps a fresh start in another city or town would be prudent.”

“London is a big place,” she said. “And just because Alasdair tracked down Uncle Charles doesn’t mean he knows anything of my whereabouts. He could simply have discovered the family connection. It wouldn’t be difficult. I’ve not been back to Uncle Charles’s offices since he wrote to me to warn me to stay away, and once you’ve moved the trust to a solicitor unconnected to me, that should be the last of the matter.”

Frowning, David said, “He’s not going to stop looking for you. Having discovered your uncle, he might easily intensify his efforts in London. It’s much less likely that he’d think to try Bristol or York or Manchester.”

Elizabeth sighed. “I suppose so. But Euan is so well established at
Flint’s
—”

“He doesn’t mind leaving it, though, does he? He told me that he’s already suggested you go elsewhere.”

“I know, but I don’t want him to give up his position over me! He’s making a name for himself—well, a pen name. He doesn’t dare use his own.” She huffed out a laugh at that, though it didn’t contain much humour.

“Listen,” David said, leaning forward over the table. He put a hand over hers. “Your father placed a generous capital sum in trust for you. Properly managed, the income from it will give you a small, steady income, enough to live on—not in luxury but certainly very respectably. If Euan is willing to leave his position behind and look for another elsewhere—well, I think you should thank your lucky stars and go along with it. Go somewhere Kinnell would never think to look, somewhere there is no chance of you ever meeting anyone you’ve been introduced to before—one of the big industrial cities. That’s where Euan’s kind of stories are anyway.”

She paused, considering. “I’ll think about it,” she said at last.

“Do that,” David replied and said no more. He’d planted the seed. It would have to be enough for now.

Once they’d finished their breakfast, David rose from his chair.

“I should go,” he said. “Murdo will be wondering where I’ve got to.”

She glanced at him. “Lord Murdo is with you?”

“He was coming to London already. I just begged a seat in his carriage.”

“And you’re staying with him while you’re here?”

“Yes, at his house on Curzon Street.”

A pause. “Lord Murdo has been very kind to you. Taking you to his estate to recuperate. And now this. You have become friends, then?”

David smiled, but he could feel how tight and unnatural it must look. “I suppose we have,” he admitted.

“Was he expecting you to return last night? Will he be worried?”

David considered how to answer that. Was it credible that a man who merely regarded David as a friend would worry about him if he stayed away for a night? “He knew I was coming to see you,” he said at last, his voice deliberately casual. “So I’m sure he’ll have realised I stayed the night here. After all, I didn’t set out until quite late. All the same, I should go back and offer my apologies—once I’ve seen your uncle, of course. His office is quite close to here, is it not?”

Elizabeth nodded. “At Serjeant’s Inn. It’s perhaps a mile from here and on your way back to Curzon Street. I’ll write the directions down for you.”

She rose from her chair to attend to her task, thoroughly diverted from her curiosity about Murdo Balfour.

Chapter Twelve

Charles Carr’s offices were compact but well appointed. There were two rooms, Mr. Carr’s own office—the door to which was presently closed—and a sizeable anteroom which accommodated two clerks and several commodious chairs where clients waiting to see Mr. Carr could make themselves comfortable.

Having announced himself, David was invited to sit by one of the clerks who slipped off his tall stool, presumably to advise Mr. Carr of David’s arrival. On his return, the clerk retreated behind his desk to continue with his work, and the only sounds to disturb the silence for the next quarter hour were the scratches of nibs on paper.

At length, Mr. Carr’s door opened, and two people emerged, a neat, white-haired man wearing spectacles and an even smaller elderly lady who held his arm tightly. As the man, whom David presumed was Mr. Carr, led his elderly charge towards the front door, he nodded at David and said, “I will be with you once I’ve escorted Mrs. Kirkton to her carriage, Mr. Lauriston.”

“Please take your time,” David replied, nodding in return.

It was a full ten minutes before Mr. Carr returned.

He paused beside David’s chair. “Would you care to join me in my office, Mr. Lauriston?”

“Yes, of course.” David grasped his cane, wincing a little as he rose from his chair, a detail that he was quite sure the watchful solicitor noted.

As they passed the clerk on his high stool, Mr. Carr paused, saying, “Will you ask Polly to bring some tea in to us, Mr. Jenkins?”

The clerk murmured his assent, and Mr. Carr ushered David into his office.

It was a large, comfortably furnished room, reassuring in its solidity. The dark wood of the sizeable mahogany desk gleamed with care, and the hundreds of books that lined the walls looked to be regularly dusted. The desk itself was entirely clear, except for one small, tidy pile of papers right in the middle, tied up neatly with pink ribbon. Mr. Carr lifted the little bundle and placed it in a wooden tray that occupied a corner of the desk. Then he sat down, gesturing at David to take the chair on the other side of the desk.