She wanted to get away, and she wanted to get away now. Perhaps she was mistaken. She hoped that she was mistaken. But it seemed that the more time passed, the less she could trust her old servant Davis. He seemed menacing, now, looming over her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
But he had her bag. If she was mistaken, he'd be hurt. If she weren't, she was now entirely without luggage, and her identity papers were in that bag. If she asked for the bag back, he would know that she doubted him. She tried to force a smile onto her cheeks.
"Of course, then it's no issue at all. Lead on."
He helped her up with his free hand and then started down the street.
They spoke pleasantries as a rule, and walked at a respectable distance. For all the world, she could see nothing of the man she'd been afraid of a moment ago.
A voice called out, and when she looked she could see James walking towards the both of them.
"Miss Geis," he started, obviously unsure. "Is anything amiss?"
"There's been some confusion with the hotel," she said. She was acutely aware that somewhere in the city, someone working for her uncle was roaming around. Davis seemed a likely, if worrying, candidate, and it stung in the back of her mind.
"Well, of course you can use my flat. I can get a room for the night." He paused a long moment. "If that's not a problem."
"Oh, no," she said softly. James took the bag from Davis, though he didn't offer it. Clearly he had an issue with this plan, but he didn't voice it. "Oh, Davis. Where were you staying? Maybe James can stay with you, I'm sure you know a good place."
There was a crinkle in the corner of his eyes that made her doubt, and then he said, softly, "Oh—I'm staying with friends, ma'am."
14
James
James could see the tension in Mary's body, and before he could feel frustrated with the fact that he was looking closely enough to notice, he had to come to her rescue.
Davis shouldn't have been there. That much, he knew immediately. He hadn't lived in Dover long—so far, he was more like a house guest—but he had employee records. Davis lived in town. He shouldn't have been here, unless it was on business, but what business could he have?
When they were finally apart, Mary made an apologetic face.
"You don't have to get a room, you know. I'm sure you've got a sofa, or something, that you can sleep on. I wouldn't mind if you did that."
It rankled him badly. She didn't mean what he thought she meant. He kept reminding himself of it, but she kept sounding so very much like she did. The way she looked at him, the way she acted, the way she talked…it had to be his imagination. It didn't make it any easier to ignore.
His flat wasn't far, and then he could give her the tour and be off.
He pushed the door open and gestured that she should go in first. She stepped in and set her bag down.
It was a shabby room. He'd liked it for his purposes, but now he was acutely aware of the cheapness of it. He felt as if Mary was slowly cataloging every thing that she could find wrong, and marking it off as a criticism of him. He could feel it burning hot in his throat.
"It's not much, but it's home," he said in a vague defense that Mary waved away.
"Nonsense," she said. "For a single gentleman, it's perfectly nice."
"Well," he said, reluctant to argue with her, "the bedroom is through there. The sheets should be in the closet, I'll make the bed before night, don't you worry."
He closed the bedroom door and walked back out into the front room. "Through there's the kitchen, the water closet's right there…"
He hooked his thumbs in his pockets and tried not to feel too bad about the place, but it was a struggle to maintain his mood. The place felt odd, and he wanted little more than to get out. When she didn't dismiss him, he cleared his throat.
"I'll, ah…let you get comfortable, and I'll be back around time for supper to tell you what I could find, if that's alright with you, Miss—"
"Call me Mary, I said." She sounded annoyed, and he swallowed his response.
"Of course, I'm sorry. Mary."
He pushed his door open and stepped out into the open air. He'd never wanted to be gone so badly. The air in the room felt heavy. Like he'd never been there before in his life. He looked up at the sky.