that. I am responsible for being where I was and that is all.”
“So the thinking of your family is that this assault was random, one of opportunity rather than deliberate design.”
“I have supposed that is their thinking. As I mentioned, I didn’t ask.”
“I do not recall reading an account of any assault such as you experienced in the Gazette. Did it happen here in London?”
“It began here. It ended in Walthamstow. Are you familiar?”
“I know where it is. Waltham Abbey is not far from there, I believe.”
“Yes.”
“Are you telling me you were abducted in London and taken to Walthamstow?”
“Walthamstow is where I was able to get away. I cannot say how long they meant to remain there.”
“They?”
“There were two men, though sometimes it seems to me there was a third.”
Restell kept his gaze steady, taking in this information as if it did not twist his gut. If she was willing to tell him, the very least he could do was honor her courage. “Your bruises look more than a week old. How long ago did this happen?”
“A bit less than three weeks. I am told I made my escape only days after I was assaulted behind Madame Chabrier’s establishment. I cannot account for the time myself as it seemed to take no longer than the blink of an eye, yet was simultaneously only a few moments shy of forever. Because of the kindness of the village’s innkeeper and his wife, I was able to send word to my family and was reunited soon after.”
It was clearer to Restell why he’d heard no account of the abduction or her maltreatment. A family of some means and reputation would go to great lengths to keep such a matter quiet. Whether or not she bore any responsibility for events, whether or not she was sorely abused, it would be society’s judgment that she was ruined. Restell thought that perhaps it was a judgment shared by her family.
“You were alone at the time of the abduction?” he asked.
She nodded. “I had not even my maid with me. It seems foolish now, but I cannot regret it as I think she might have been killed if she’d accompanied me.”
Restell considered her attire again. “You are not in mourning.”
She was silent for a moment, her expression grave. “Only as it applies to me,” she said with quiet dignity. “I mourn the loss of self, of that part of me that enjoyed freedom of movement and freedom from fear. I might have been here days earlier if I could have left my home. I had opportunity but could not will myself to step outside. Twice I dressed and approached the door. Twice I retreated to my room. Today I took two spoonfuls of laudanum and depended upon their soporific consequences to help me find a balm for my terror. Do not suppose that I am muddleheaded because of my actions. The long wait in your drawing room did much to remove that effect.”
“And are you fearful now?”
“Sick with it.”
“Yet you sit so composed.”
“I cannot move.” She smiled slightly, sipping air as though through a straw. “I can barely breathe.”
Her courage left him humbled. Some day he would tell her so, but not just now, not when a kind word might very well sabotage her resolve. “What do you suppose I can do for you?”
She did not answer this directly. That didn’t entirely surprise him as she seemed more comfortable coming at a thing sideways.
“I am Emmalyn Hathaway,” she said after a long moment. “Miss Emmalyn Hathaway.”
As he’d suspected, her name meant nothing to him. “It is a very real honor to meet you, Miss Hathaway.” She gave no indication that she reciprocated the sentiment or even that she believed him.
“My parents were Elliot and Teresa Hathaway, late of Peterborough.”
Restell realized he hadn’t been wrong about her accent. Peterborough was in Northhamptonshire.
“And later still,” she continued, “of the fair ship Emily Pepper that was lost with all hands and passengers somewhere south of Ceylon.”
“I know of the Emily Pepper,” he said. In addition to apparently carrying Miss Hathaway’s parents, the ship had been carrying a king’s ransom worth of silks and teas. He had contemplated investing in the ship, but as he researched its prospects and, more importantly, its master, he had advised himself and others against it. The demise of the Emily Pepper and the loss of her crew, passengers, and cargo had spelled something of a reversal in his own fortunes.
People began to take him seriously.
Restell did not share this with Miss Hathaway. It would be difficult for anyone to reconcile the death of one’s parents with the pivotal juncture it had been in his life, even more so because he was so ambivalent about the change it had wrought.
He realized the anniversary of the Emily Pepper’s sinking was almost upon them. “Three years next week,” he said, and didn’t realize he had spoken aloud until she stared at him. Her eyes were more green than blue, the color of water rushing toward the sea, not coming up from it, the color he had always imagined aquamarine should be and wasn’t. “Three years,” he said again, softly. “But then you know that.”
She nodded. “Indeed.”
“You are not alone, though. I believe you mentioned family. Brothers? Sisters?”
“Neither. I live with my uncle and cousin. Uncle Arthur is my mother’s brother. My aunt died many years ago and he never remarried. Marisol is also their only child.”
“She is of an age with you?”
“There are four years between us. She is eighteen.”
Restell realized that Miss Hathaway was even younger than his second estimation of her age, and he was not successful in keeping this revelation to himself. The tiniest lift of his left eyebrow gave him away.
“You are surprised,” she said. “When you remarked that I was so young, where did you place my age?”
Recovering his misstep, Restell said, “I do not think it would be politic to answer that.”
Her slight smile communicated an appreciation for his response and that no offense had been taken. “You thought I was still older than you, I’d wager.”
“You won’t wheedle it out of me.”
“It is a common enough error. I am judged by most people to be an ape-leader, a term generally assigned to a woman some seven to ten years my senior with no prospects for marriage. I mention it lest you think that it is my recent experience that has aged me. I assure you, that is not the case. I have always been accounted to be older than my years.” She shrugged lightly. “A consequence of a serious temperament, I suppose, and an application of one’s mind to study.”
“No ape-leader, then, but a bluestocking.”
