Silver, page 36
Elizabeth opened her eyes and turned to face Kate. She would have to deal with this herself.
“I will speak to Avery this evening.”
Chapter Twenty Eight - Imogen, 1911
As I replaced the mouthpiece on the telephone stand, I felt at last as though I were back in control of my own self. John’s mother had been kind but obstructive. She made no effort to conceal her distaste of the news of my father but her dislike of matters both personal and delicate ensured that neither of us spoke of the situation directly. Her concern, as was mine, was for her son.
“How is John bearing up?”
“John is being very practical Margaret. You know John.”
“Of course, I can only imagine there is much to organize. Well, the boys must stay as long as possible to keep out of your way.”
“Well actually, that is why I am calling Margaret. I’d like the boys to come home.”
“Of course, you must want them with you. Well as soon as the funeral is all out of the way then we shall send them home.”
“Actually, I’d like them home tomorrow,” I paused and girded myself for the imminent disapproval, “in time for the funeral.”
There was a heavy silence and I almost spoke again, believing the connection to have been lost, when Margaret Bancroft’s reproachful voice came down the line.
“Does John think that is a good idea Imogen?”
I had weighed up what to say to such a question and it was tempting, simply to avoid any conflict, to simply say yes but in the end I had decided that honesty was the best policy.
“I have not spoken with John yet but you can be rest assured that he will support me in this Margaret.”
“Imogen, I must insist…”
“Margaret. I don’t wish to fall out with you on this matter and I am grateful to you for stepping in to look after them at such short notice.”
“Naturally…”
“…but the boys are old enough to pay their last respects to their grandfather. They were very fond of my father and in the circumstances I would like them to be at home.”
I heard her draw breath for a further objection but I simply continued. “I will have Stokes wait for the 2 o’clock train, if you will be so kind.”
~o~
When John returned home that evening, rather than avoid him or be afraid of his silent disapproval, I was waiting for him in his study. I had only been in the room without him once before. It was before we had had the children and late one evening we had been sat together in the parlour. There had come the sound of breaking glass from upstairs. John had sprung into action and, taking me by the hand, he had pulled me behind him into the hall. A young Stokes was already mounting the stairs, a fire poker in hand and John whispered to him to wait. He had ushered me to the study and had kissed me and told me to stay. He had closed the door and turned the key in the lock. He had kept me safe, his most precious thing. The recollection was a fond one and when he opened the door, he looked many years older than the twelve that separated the memory from the present day. He looked surprised to see me but he regarded me kindly.
“Imogen?” he said. “It’s late. What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to talk.”
I saw his shoulders droop as if he could think of nothing worse than to talk to me. The gesture made me feel very sad and alone.
“Mother called the office this evening,” he said. “Would this have anything to do with what you want to talk about?”
Though I knew that she would, I felt my temper rise nonetheless.
“What did you say to her?” I asked.
His shoulders dropped yet further and he sank into the chair in which I had myself sat only a few short nights ago and he had raged at me.
“I told her that you were under a lot of strain and that perhaps it would be best if the boys were to stay where they were for the time being. At least until after the funeral.” he added quickly.
I did not feel angry, I had been expecting as much. I sat back on the desk and held the warm wood tightly beneath my fingers as I stared at him.
“Do you remember Wales?” I asked.
John’s face remained drawn and he tipped his head back as he braced himself for a conversation he hadn’t seen coming.
“Of course,” he said. His tone was flat.
“Do you remember the river?”
“And the boat that capsized? Of course I remember.”
“Capsized? You stood up so fast, the boat rocked for a full minute before I was pitched into the cold water.”
“It can’t have been that cold, it was summer!” he retorted. His face was softer but he remained guarded.
“I took a lungful of water. I thought I would drown but you saved me.”
John looked at his me and shrugged his shoulders.
“The water was shallow. It was only waist deep.”
I took his hand and shook my head at him.
“But you carried me anyway.”
The silence in the room was full of our voices from every conversation we had ever had in this room and after a minute or so, the memory of them was deafening and I was grateful when John stood from his chair and, stepping forwards, took me in his arms and held me.
~o~
When I reached my father’s house, there was already an air of dereliction. What furniture remained had been draped in white sheets and those fires which had once been lit with regularity were clean and cold. The only person who was left was Heston and he had not been expecting me. Having let myself in, I had found him sat in my father’s study, his head upon his hands. He had not heard my approach and I had the luxury of watching him for a few moments, unobserved. His was as familiar a face as my own father’s. I could not remember a day when I had not passed through Heston to see my father. Of a morning, he was upon the stair carrying some errand or other. Some paperwork, a newspaper, anything at all but all delivered with the same care and diligence as he treated his position. In some ways I suppose, I had seen more of this man before me than of my father and if I had not known my own father then how could I trust this man before me? So he had been my father’s man since he had transitioned from Alice to Avery? He must know something and I had come to find the last of the truths. I drew back silently from the frame and into the hall where I coughed and allowed Heston to rouse before I re-entered the room.
“Mrs. Bancroft!”
He was unshaven and his suit was crumpled and he was apologetic from the off.
“Please. Forgive me. I was…I mean.” He looked at me apologetically, picking at his shirt front and glancing around to where his jacket hung on another chair back.
I smiled at him and shook my head.
“Please. There is no need to apologise. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“You didn’t. I mean..., I didn’t know you would be coming back again today. I would have…” He looked about himself at the empty shelves of my father’s study and his eyes took in the whole of the house from top to bottom as if he could see each of the floors now stripped of any memory of my father, my mother or me. The house would be sold to fetch the highest price. The money would be placed in trust for Sebastian and Thomas and the rest conferred amongst myself, Heston and Mrs. Rooksmith and the handful of charities to which my father was a benefactor. The house would no doubt be of some interest to those peculiar people who made other people’s lives more interesting than their own but in a few short days there would be nothing left of my fathers’.
“Can I offer you something?” he looked around him. “Some refreshment? I will see if there is something I can …”
“Can we sit for a while?” I indicated the leather chair he had just vacated and I drew up a chair before it and placed my bag on the desk. The small and only fire that was lit was dying and I drew my coat around me. Old habits died hard and noticing that small gesture, he quickly assembled some more wood upon the embers and, within a few moments, the fire had recovered its appetite. Heston, pleased to have satisfied at least some small service, sat more comfortably alongside me. The room began to settle around us as some warmth began to infuse the bare boards and furniture with life. A few faint creaks gave an impression that we were not alone and that there was no silence to break. After a time, the familiar smell of the room gave me some comfort and, though my feet were still like ice, I could feel myself begin to thaw. I glanced at Heston beside me and he was transfixed with the orange tongue of the fire licking around the fresh logs and he seemed to be somewhere else entirely. He, no doubt more uncomfortable than I with the situation, was the first to interject his thoughts into the emptiness of the room.
“The first time I saw your father was when he came out of a shabby thoroughfare round by the Seven Dials accompanied by my employer at the time, John Goodwin, and a mutual friend of theirs. It was in the early hours of the morning and I had been waiting at the agreed spot for almost an hour. It was an unseemly place to be and I was glad of the driver for company. He was a large man and always carried a pistol after some trouble working for another employer in the North West. I had known my master would be three sheets to the wind by the time had found his way to us. He was out with this particular school chum of his whose influence the whole household had come to despise,”’ he looked across at me and nodded. “A life of service is a great pleasure but there are a few individuals whose actions are as reprehensible as an animals. I have had occasion to only happen upon one such character in all my days and, that first evening I met your father, he was also in the same man’s company. When I saw my drink weary charge staggering out of the alleyway with that man in tow, I was not surprised, but when I saw a third man following closely, I was taken immediately by him. He was brighter eyed than the others as if he had not been drinking. He held himself tightly and was cautious to every noise and shadow as if each was reaching for the edge of his coat. He did not seem scared, only cautious. I watched how he looked at my employer and I was taken by his concern. He was careful to make sure we were known to one another and that he would be taken care of. I was touched more greatly I think that, by contrast, this old school friend was oblivious to any such notion and was merely looking around for the next diversion.”
I waited whilst Heston paused for breath and collected his thoughts.
‘As the carriage drove off into the night, I turned to look at the stranger one more time and from under the gas light, he looked ghostly. His dark hair and dark coat seemed to fade into the shadow around him, leaving only a slight form of grey. He was looking directly at me and those deep eyes seemed shot like silver and my heart rose into my throat. He looked ethereal and in the days that followed I found myself thinking of him frequently. It may sound odd to you but there was something about him which was magnetic.”
The silence was replaced with a rushing noise as I became all to aware of the way the cold air was being sucked into the room towards the fire. What did Heston mean, was he in love with my father? The old man continued as if his thoughts were nothing more than a matter of a misplaced table ring.
“Mr. Goodwin spoke of Avery all the time and I found myself more interested than usual with his exploits. I think he was suspicious of Avery but he could not place his finger on why. He talked about him as though he were a riddle which he must solve and far from forgetting the enigmatic young man, I found myself becoming infatuated with him. I know that this may sound strange but Goodwin admitted to finding Silver attractive and repulsive at the same time; he was charmed and bothered by him; confused but drawn to him. In turn, I decided that I must find out more about this young man and, of my own volition, I decided to follow him home one day. I waited outside Cleveland Street one evening and followed Silver home in a cab. Oddly, he alighted several streets away from his home and I was forced to follow him from the shadows, skulking like a predator. I watched from a distance as he entered the house through the servant’s entrance and I made a note of the address. When I returned to the house a few days later, I waited in the gardens opposite but never saw any sign of him.
“The first time we met properly was some two months later, after his father’s funeral. I caught sight of an announcement in the local society news of the death of a man leaving a grieving daughter, Alice Silver and my interest was roused. The address of the man was the same as the house I had seen Avery return to. I wondered whether Avery had been his son and decided to go to the funeral. When I arrived, I stood a decent distance back from the congregation and at first I was disappointed that there was no sign of him and then I caught sight of a young woman, dressed in a long black skirt, coat and large brimmed hat. Her face was familiar and I assumed she was the daughter. As for Avery, I could see no sign. After about a quarter of an hour, as soon as the earth had struck the coffin, the young woman walked away from the rest of the mourners and found her own way from the graveyard and I was tempted to take my leave empty handed. But then I caught another glance of her as she passed me by and her face was more than familiar. I was convinced that the woman was Avery. Having thought of him over several weeks, I decided I must know and I decided to find out for sure. I followed at a distance at first but by the time we reached the main road I seized my chance. On an instinct, I called out to him.
‘“Mr. Silver?”
“Of course he turned around and I don’t believe he recognized me but as soon as I saw those grey eyes, I knew it was him. I was so shocked that I think I made some noise and Avery turned around to see who else had noticed our exchange. He shushed me and, grabbing me by the arm, pushed me across the road.
‘“Who are you?”
‘“My name is Heston. You know my employer. Goodwin. I am Goodwin’s valet. We met in St Giles, sir.”
“He was panicked. There were no two ways about it. Even after I had reassured him that I had come of my own accord and that neither Goodwin or Bateman had sent me, he was no more at ease.
‘“What do you want? Why have you come here?”
“I could not answer him and was almost glad when we were interrupted by an elderly woman who recognized Avery and called to him, eyeing me suspiciously.
‘“Miss Silver? Why are you here? You ran off in such a hurry.”
“She bustled towards us but Avery was not content with the interruption and, lowering his voice, gave me his first order.
‘“Don’t go anywhere, say nothing and play along.”
“The woman soon came alongside us and Avery was quick to introduce us.
‘“Mrs. Fearncott, this is Heston. Heston is a tutor at the University of Bristol. He was a friend of my father’s and sadly just missed the funeral. Heston this is Mrs. Fearncott, a friend of my father’s.”
“At the time, I had no idea she was affianced to his father and I simply gave her a courteous bow and offered some glib condolences. I was impressed with the speed at which he had concocted a story for me and I went along with the conversation as best I could. The woman asked me a few questions, confessed she had never heard of me and asked how I knew Toby. Avery stepped in quickly and told her we had to go. He hailed a cab, ushered me inside and then we were alone again.
“I was still very much in shock over exactly who Avery was but the whole liaison was thrilling. At this point, I did not know whether Avery was a man disguised as a woman or a woman dressed as a man. I could not have guessed when I had left my employer this morning that I would find someone as fascinating. My interest in him had been roused tenfold and, compared to my dull life, those ten minutes with Avery were exhilarating. As we bumped along without a destination, Avery began to fill the silence. He had a bitter edge to him.
‘“I expect you have come to laugh at me? To report back to Bateman about how you find me?”
“I shook my head and waited for him to finish.
‘“It is something of a cruel joke is it not Heston that God has either placed the right mind in the wrong body or the right body with the wrong mind? I don’t expect you to understand nor do I expect Bateman or Goodwin or Elizabeth or anyone else to for that matter. I do not think I care what is to become of me. I cannot live like this any longer,” he paused, “and I do not intend to.”
‘“Mr. Silver, you don’t surely intend to take your own life?”
“He looked at me cautiously. I had used his correct address and this had been taken well.
‘“Of course not Mr. Heston. I intend to make a new one for myself. Today I buried my father and though his memory will be gone soon enough, his money will survive a lot longer. I expect it will afford me a change of scenery anyway.”
“He looked at me again, his tone self-assured but without arrogance and I was charmed by him. He had untied his hat and the curls of his untidy hair fell about his face, he had tugged at the lace around the neck of his blouse as if the fabric irritated him. He smiled at me.
‘“And what about you Mr. Heston? Why are you here? What are you come to do to me?”
“I don’t believe I had any ready reply but rather stammered for an answer.
‘“I wanted to see you again,” I managed to say.
“He narrowed his eyes at me and gave me a questioning look. It was a few moments before he spoke again.
‘“When we met before at St Giles,” he said and I nodded, “I was not dressed like this. As a woman. I was dressed as a man. And you wanted to see me again?”
‘“Yes, sir.” I felt my face warm.
“He searched my face and then laughed, a great bellow of mirth and he leant across and placed a brotherly hand upon my knee. “Mr. Heston. I am sorry for your troubles. You came this morning looking for a wolf and found only a sheep. It must be funnier still to find that under the sheep’s clothing there is a wolf after all!”
“I could not help but smile with him as he had indeed put my day thus far into perspective. What he did not know then was that rather than be disappointed, I was only more intrigued by Avery Silver and, when I left him a few hours later, I would go so far as to say that I was infatuated with him.
“I will speak to Avery this evening.”
Chapter Twenty Eight - Imogen, 1911
As I replaced the mouthpiece on the telephone stand, I felt at last as though I were back in control of my own self. John’s mother had been kind but obstructive. She made no effort to conceal her distaste of the news of my father but her dislike of matters both personal and delicate ensured that neither of us spoke of the situation directly. Her concern, as was mine, was for her son.
“How is John bearing up?”
“John is being very practical Margaret. You know John.”
“Of course, I can only imagine there is much to organize. Well, the boys must stay as long as possible to keep out of your way.”
“Well actually, that is why I am calling Margaret. I’d like the boys to come home.”
“Of course, you must want them with you. Well as soon as the funeral is all out of the way then we shall send them home.”
“Actually, I’d like them home tomorrow,” I paused and girded myself for the imminent disapproval, “in time for the funeral.”
There was a heavy silence and I almost spoke again, believing the connection to have been lost, when Margaret Bancroft’s reproachful voice came down the line.
“Does John think that is a good idea Imogen?”
I had weighed up what to say to such a question and it was tempting, simply to avoid any conflict, to simply say yes but in the end I had decided that honesty was the best policy.
“I have not spoken with John yet but you can be rest assured that he will support me in this Margaret.”
“Imogen, I must insist…”
“Margaret. I don’t wish to fall out with you on this matter and I am grateful to you for stepping in to look after them at such short notice.”
“Naturally…”
“…but the boys are old enough to pay their last respects to their grandfather. They were very fond of my father and in the circumstances I would like them to be at home.”
I heard her draw breath for a further objection but I simply continued. “I will have Stokes wait for the 2 o’clock train, if you will be so kind.”
~o~
When John returned home that evening, rather than avoid him or be afraid of his silent disapproval, I was waiting for him in his study. I had only been in the room without him once before. It was before we had had the children and late one evening we had been sat together in the parlour. There had come the sound of breaking glass from upstairs. John had sprung into action and, taking me by the hand, he had pulled me behind him into the hall. A young Stokes was already mounting the stairs, a fire poker in hand and John whispered to him to wait. He had ushered me to the study and had kissed me and told me to stay. He had closed the door and turned the key in the lock. He had kept me safe, his most precious thing. The recollection was a fond one and when he opened the door, he looked many years older than the twelve that separated the memory from the present day. He looked surprised to see me but he regarded me kindly.
“Imogen?” he said. “It’s late. What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to talk.”
I saw his shoulders droop as if he could think of nothing worse than to talk to me. The gesture made me feel very sad and alone.
“Mother called the office this evening,” he said. “Would this have anything to do with what you want to talk about?”
Though I knew that she would, I felt my temper rise nonetheless.
“What did you say to her?” I asked.
His shoulders dropped yet further and he sank into the chair in which I had myself sat only a few short nights ago and he had raged at me.
“I told her that you were under a lot of strain and that perhaps it would be best if the boys were to stay where they were for the time being. At least until after the funeral.” he added quickly.
I did not feel angry, I had been expecting as much. I sat back on the desk and held the warm wood tightly beneath my fingers as I stared at him.
“Do you remember Wales?” I asked.
John’s face remained drawn and he tipped his head back as he braced himself for a conversation he hadn’t seen coming.
“Of course,” he said. His tone was flat.
“Do you remember the river?”
“And the boat that capsized? Of course I remember.”
“Capsized? You stood up so fast, the boat rocked for a full minute before I was pitched into the cold water.”
“It can’t have been that cold, it was summer!” he retorted. His face was softer but he remained guarded.
“I took a lungful of water. I thought I would drown but you saved me.”
John looked at his me and shrugged his shoulders.
“The water was shallow. It was only waist deep.”
I took his hand and shook my head at him.
“But you carried me anyway.”
The silence in the room was full of our voices from every conversation we had ever had in this room and after a minute or so, the memory of them was deafening and I was grateful when John stood from his chair and, stepping forwards, took me in his arms and held me.
~o~
When I reached my father’s house, there was already an air of dereliction. What furniture remained had been draped in white sheets and those fires which had once been lit with regularity were clean and cold. The only person who was left was Heston and he had not been expecting me. Having let myself in, I had found him sat in my father’s study, his head upon his hands. He had not heard my approach and I had the luxury of watching him for a few moments, unobserved. His was as familiar a face as my own father’s. I could not remember a day when I had not passed through Heston to see my father. Of a morning, he was upon the stair carrying some errand or other. Some paperwork, a newspaper, anything at all but all delivered with the same care and diligence as he treated his position. In some ways I suppose, I had seen more of this man before me than of my father and if I had not known my own father then how could I trust this man before me? So he had been my father’s man since he had transitioned from Alice to Avery? He must know something and I had come to find the last of the truths. I drew back silently from the frame and into the hall where I coughed and allowed Heston to rouse before I re-entered the room.
“Mrs. Bancroft!”
He was unshaven and his suit was crumpled and he was apologetic from the off.
“Please. Forgive me. I was…I mean.” He looked at me apologetically, picking at his shirt front and glancing around to where his jacket hung on another chair back.
I smiled at him and shook my head.
“Please. There is no need to apologise. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“You didn’t. I mean..., I didn’t know you would be coming back again today. I would have…” He looked about himself at the empty shelves of my father’s study and his eyes took in the whole of the house from top to bottom as if he could see each of the floors now stripped of any memory of my father, my mother or me. The house would be sold to fetch the highest price. The money would be placed in trust for Sebastian and Thomas and the rest conferred amongst myself, Heston and Mrs. Rooksmith and the handful of charities to which my father was a benefactor. The house would no doubt be of some interest to those peculiar people who made other people’s lives more interesting than their own but in a few short days there would be nothing left of my fathers’.
“Can I offer you something?” he looked around him. “Some refreshment? I will see if there is something I can …”
“Can we sit for a while?” I indicated the leather chair he had just vacated and I drew up a chair before it and placed my bag on the desk. The small and only fire that was lit was dying and I drew my coat around me. Old habits died hard and noticing that small gesture, he quickly assembled some more wood upon the embers and, within a few moments, the fire had recovered its appetite. Heston, pleased to have satisfied at least some small service, sat more comfortably alongside me. The room began to settle around us as some warmth began to infuse the bare boards and furniture with life. A few faint creaks gave an impression that we were not alone and that there was no silence to break. After a time, the familiar smell of the room gave me some comfort and, though my feet were still like ice, I could feel myself begin to thaw. I glanced at Heston beside me and he was transfixed with the orange tongue of the fire licking around the fresh logs and he seemed to be somewhere else entirely. He, no doubt more uncomfortable than I with the situation, was the first to interject his thoughts into the emptiness of the room.
“The first time I saw your father was when he came out of a shabby thoroughfare round by the Seven Dials accompanied by my employer at the time, John Goodwin, and a mutual friend of theirs. It was in the early hours of the morning and I had been waiting at the agreed spot for almost an hour. It was an unseemly place to be and I was glad of the driver for company. He was a large man and always carried a pistol after some trouble working for another employer in the North West. I had known my master would be three sheets to the wind by the time had found his way to us. He was out with this particular school chum of his whose influence the whole household had come to despise,”’ he looked across at me and nodded. “A life of service is a great pleasure but there are a few individuals whose actions are as reprehensible as an animals. I have had occasion to only happen upon one such character in all my days and, that first evening I met your father, he was also in the same man’s company. When I saw my drink weary charge staggering out of the alleyway with that man in tow, I was not surprised, but when I saw a third man following closely, I was taken immediately by him. He was brighter eyed than the others as if he had not been drinking. He held himself tightly and was cautious to every noise and shadow as if each was reaching for the edge of his coat. He did not seem scared, only cautious. I watched how he looked at my employer and I was taken by his concern. He was careful to make sure we were known to one another and that he would be taken care of. I was touched more greatly I think that, by contrast, this old school friend was oblivious to any such notion and was merely looking around for the next diversion.”
I waited whilst Heston paused for breath and collected his thoughts.
‘As the carriage drove off into the night, I turned to look at the stranger one more time and from under the gas light, he looked ghostly. His dark hair and dark coat seemed to fade into the shadow around him, leaving only a slight form of grey. He was looking directly at me and those deep eyes seemed shot like silver and my heart rose into my throat. He looked ethereal and in the days that followed I found myself thinking of him frequently. It may sound odd to you but there was something about him which was magnetic.”
The silence was replaced with a rushing noise as I became all to aware of the way the cold air was being sucked into the room towards the fire. What did Heston mean, was he in love with my father? The old man continued as if his thoughts were nothing more than a matter of a misplaced table ring.
“Mr. Goodwin spoke of Avery all the time and I found myself more interested than usual with his exploits. I think he was suspicious of Avery but he could not place his finger on why. He talked about him as though he were a riddle which he must solve and far from forgetting the enigmatic young man, I found myself becoming infatuated with him. I know that this may sound strange but Goodwin admitted to finding Silver attractive and repulsive at the same time; he was charmed and bothered by him; confused but drawn to him. In turn, I decided that I must find out more about this young man and, of my own volition, I decided to follow him home one day. I waited outside Cleveland Street one evening and followed Silver home in a cab. Oddly, he alighted several streets away from his home and I was forced to follow him from the shadows, skulking like a predator. I watched from a distance as he entered the house through the servant’s entrance and I made a note of the address. When I returned to the house a few days later, I waited in the gardens opposite but never saw any sign of him.
“The first time we met properly was some two months later, after his father’s funeral. I caught sight of an announcement in the local society news of the death of a man leaving a grieving daughter, Alice Silver and my interest was roused. The address of the man was the same as the house I had seen Avery return to. I wondered whether Avery had been his son and decided to go to the funeral. When I arrived, I stood a decent distance back from the congregation and at first I was disappointed that there was no sign of him and then I caught sight of a young woman, dressed in a long black skirt, coat and large brimmed hat. Her face was familiar and I assumed she was the daughter. As for Avery, I could see no sign. After about a quarter of an hour, as soon as the earth had struck the coffin, the young woman walked away from the rest of the mourners and found her own way from the graveyard and I was tempted to take my leave empty handed. But then I caught another glance of her as she passed me by and her face was more than familiar. I was convinced that the woman was Avery. Having thought of him over several weeks, I decided I must know and I decided to find out for sure. I followed at a distance at first but by the time we reached the main road I seized my chance. On an instinct, I called out to him.
‘“Mr. Silver?”
“Of course he turned around and I don’t believe he recognized me but as soon as I saw those grey eyes, I knew it was him. I was so shocked that I think I made some noise and Avery turned around to see who else had noticed our exchange. He shushed me and, grabbing me by the arm, pushed me across the road.
‘“Who are you?”
‘“My name is Heston. You know my employer. Goodwin. I am Goodwin’s valet. We met in St Giles, sir.”
“He was panicked. There were no two ways about it. Even after I had reassured him that I had come of my own accord and that neither Goodwin or Bateman had sent me, he was no more at ease.
‘“What do you want? Why have you come here?”
“I could not answer him and was almost glad when we were interrupted by an elderly woman who recognized Avery and called to him, eyeing me suspiciously.
‘“Miss Silver? Why are you here? You ran off in such a hurry.”
“She bustled towards us but Avery was not content with the interruption and, lowering his voice, gave me his first order.
‘“Don’t go anywhere, say nothing and play along.”
“The woman soon came alongside us and Avery was quick to introduce us.
‘“Mrs. Fearncott, this is Heston. Heston is a tutor at the University of Bristol. He was a friend of my father’s and sadly just missed the funeral. Heston this is Mrs. Fearncott, a friend of my father’s.”
“At the time, I had no idea she was affianced to his father and I simply gave her a courteous bow and offered some glib condolences. I was impressed with the speed at which he had concocted a story for me and I went along with the conversation as best I could. The woman asked me a few questions, confessed she had never heard of me and asked how I knew Toby. Avery stepped in quickly and told her we had to go. He hailed a cab, ushered me inside and then we were alone again.
“I was still very much in shock over exactly who Avery was but the whole liaison was thrilling. At this point, I did not know whether Avery was a man disguised as a woman or a woman dressed as a man. I could not have guessed when I had left my employer this morning that I would find someone as fascinating. My interest in him had been roused tenfold and, compared to my dull life, those ten minutes with Avery were exhilarating. As we bumped along without a destination, Avery began to fill the silence. He had a bitter edge to him.
‘“I expect you have come to laugh at me? To report back to Bateman about how you find me?”
“I shook my head and waited for him to finish.
‘“It is something of a cruel joke is it not Heston that God has either placed the right mind in the wrong body or the right body with the wrong mind? I don’t expect you to understand nor do I expect Bateman or Goodwin or Elizabeth or anyone else to for that matter. I do not think I care what is to become of me. I cannot live like this any longer,” he paused, “and I do not intend to.”
‘“Mr. Silver, you don’t surely intend to take your own life?”
“He looked at me cautiously. I had used his correct address and this had been taken well.
‘“Of course not Mr. Heston. I intend to make a new one for myself. Today I buried my father and though his memory will be gone soon enough, his money will survive a lot longer. I expect it will afford me a change of scenery anyway.”
“He looked at me again, his tone self-assured but without arrogance and I was charmed by him. He had untied his hat and the curls of his untidy hair fell about his face, he had tugged at the lace around the neck of his blouse as if the fabric irritated him. He smiled at me.
‘“And what about you Mr. Heston? Why are you here? What are you come to do to me?”
“I don’t believe I had any ready reply but rather stammered for an answer.
‘“I wanted to see you again,” I managed to say.
“He narrowed his eyes at me and gave me a questioning look. It was a few moments before he spoke again.
‘“When we met before at St Giles,” he said and I nodded, “I was not dressed like this. As a woman. I was dressed as a man. And you wanted to see me again?”
‘“Yes, sir.” I felt my face warm.
“He searched my face and then laughed, a great bellow of mirth and he leant across and placed a brotherly hand upon my knee. “Mr. Heston. I am sorry for your troubles. You came this morning looking for a wolf and found only a sheep. It must be funnier still to find that under the sheep’s clothing there is a wolf after all!”
“I could not help but smile with him as he had indeed put my day thus far into perspective. What he did not know then was that rather than be disappointed, I was only more intrigued by Avery Silver and, when I left him a few hours later, I would go so far as to say that I was infatuated with him.
