Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Sylvia checked her hair in the looking glass one final time, then smoothed down the skirt of her very best gown and slipped out of the house. It had been three days since she received Walter's note asking her to visit him. She'd been overjoyed initially and particularly grateful that she remembered to give him her forwarding address. But now her stomach fluttered with nerves.

She picked her lightweight spring cloak from the hook and then returned to the looking glass for one more check. She nodded at her reflection.

"That will have to do," she muttered as she tucked a loose strand of blonde hair around her ear.

She'd never thought of herself as a beautiful woman. She supposed there had been a time when she was pretty, but then all girls were pretty at one point, weren't they? Now, with her thirty-first birthday fast approaching, she felt old and tired. She'd never even truly entertained the thought of marriage because no man had ever caught her eye and besides, she was far too dedicated to Celestina.

But now Walter Rivers had entered her life quite by accident. Her knight in shining armor, her literal saviour. Just thinking about him sent her mind whirring, her thoughts bouncing around incoherently and excitedly. She often imagined him in the room, his presence with her even if he wasn't.

Walter, or his creation in her mind, made her feel young again. Made her feel pretty again. She knew it was all nonsense, of course. He was a solicitor, a wealthy and successful man with property, and she was nothing but a maid. But she embraced the feeling all the same, and when she had received his letter, her heart had leapt with all the possibility it held.

She slipped from the house and raised her face to the cool breeze. Taking a deep breath, she set off through the streets of London, cautiously watching those around her. She hadn't told a single soul, and she certainly wouldn't let it stop her from doing anything, but since she was robbed in the streets, she had developed a secret fear. Her heart pounded as she carefully eyed those around her.

It was with some relief that she found herself on the steps stone steps looking at the shiny brass plaque on the door.

Mr Walter Rivers, Solicitor.

Sylvia smiled, her own reflection distorted against the words. She raised her hand to knock, but the door opened before her hand made contact.

"Miss Taylor!" Walter beamed, his smile as bright as the plaque on his door. "I'm so glad you could make it. Come in, come in."

"I would have come sooner," Sylvia said as she stepped in through the door. "But I had to wait for my day off."

"And that's entirely understandable," Walter said. "Please, my clerk will take your cloak. Would you like some tea? I should imagine the walk was somewhat arduous."

"Tea would be lovely, thank you."

Now that she was in his office, all Sylvia's nerves melted away. Her shoulders relaxed, her stomach calmed, and she smiled as she looked around with interest. A young man surely no older than ten-and-six jumped up from his seat and took her cloak without uttering a word.

The room had two desks, each piled high with parchments, papers, and files. What little of the walls she could see were panelled in oak. The rest were covered in bookshelves piled high with leather-bound volumes and ledgers. Oil lamps sent a pool of warm yellow light across each desk, and the office smelled of freshly baked bread.

There was no fireplace, she noted, though it felt comfortably warm, and the only natural light came from two small windows—one above the entrance and one behind the larger of the two desks, the one she presumed belonged to Walter himself.

"Sit down, please," he said, ushering her to his desk and pulling out the wooden chair.

She sat down gratefully. The walk had indeed taken more out of her than she had realized, and something was delightful about being fussed over by a man like Walter. It made her feel special in a way she didn't remember feeling before.

Don't get yourself carried away , she reminded herself harshly as Walter dashed to his side of the desk, threw himself down, and immediately began searching through his papers.

"Now, I hope you don't mind my calling you here," he said through piles of parchment. "But I wanted to discuss something rather serious with you."

"All … all right," she uttered, her nerves returned.

He popped his head up above the parapet of papers, his eyes wide. He had clearly noticed her unsure tone and smiled softly at her.

"I am sorry," he said, lowering the papers in his hand. "I am a fool sometimes, always diving right into business. I haven't even asked how you are. How have you been? Well, I hope."

Sylvia's heart jumped again. It was rare that anyone asked her how she was, and from the soft look in Walter's eyes, he genuinely meant the question.

"Oh, gosh." She giggled awkwardly, her hand fluttering around her neck, wondering how this man had such an effect on her. "I've been well enough, I suppose. I mean, it's all been so much of a change. A lot to adjust to. But the duke's household is all very kind, and I feel very welcome there."

"Good," he said, smiling at her as if it came from his very soul. "That's good. I'm pleased. And you've recovered from your attack well enough?"

Sylvia blushed and turned away. "Of course," she lied. "That was months ago. But enough about me. How are you?"

Walter's smile slipped, and he sighed deeply. "I'm a little concerned, truth be told. That's why I called you here."

Oh .

Sylvia knew, of course, that he hadn't called her there to see her as such. Her fancy was entirely one-sided because there was no way a man such as him could be interested in her.

Still, the hope had been blossoming slowly in her chest. It was something in the way he looked at her, the slight glint in his eyes. She'd read about that glint in novels and recognized it. Or she thought she recognized it. Hearing him say he called her here for another reason, she could not help feeling disappointed.

He looked sadly at her, and she tensed her shoulders again, worried about what would come next.

"I have been looking into David Courtenay's affairs as I promised I would."

"I see," Sylvia said. Her relief that he had no issue with her personally mixed with the fear that something untoward was going on for Celestina. She shifted in her seat so she was perched on the very edge, her hands neatly placed on her knees.

"I had considered going straight to Mrs Courtenay with the news, of course," he continued. "But given how she fainted last time we saw one another … well, I thought it better to talk to you about it first. Perhaps you could advise me on how best to proceed."

Sylvia let out an uncomfortable laugh. "Me? Goodness, I'm not sure I'm in a position to advise anyone."

His eyes softened on her. "You do yourself a disservice, Sylvia," he said, and she thrilled at his use of her Christian name. "You are a very intelligent woman, and I would value your opinion."

She felt her cheeks warm once more and turned away to hide her pleased smile. "In that case, how can I help?"

"Tea, Mr Rivers?"

Both Walter and Sylvia jumped, pulled out of their conversation and reminded of the clerk's presence. The boy hovered awkwardly, a tray of tea things rattling in his hands.

"Yes, thank you," Walter said before chuckling. "I'd quite forgotten we'd ordered it."

He leaned forward and swept a number of pages into a single pile, making room for the tray on the desk. The clerk put the tray down gratefully.

"Thank you," Walter said, looking up at his employee. "That will do then."

"Yes," the clerk said, wiping his hands together and awkwardly turning. "I'm certain there's something I ought to do … over here."

Walter and Sylvia slipped into silence while the clerk found a task to distract himself, all while Walter poured the tea. Sylvia took the cup and saucer from him, grateful to have something to occupy her hands.

"You were saying?" she said after a long moment of noisy sipping and teaspoons stirring.

Walter cleared his throat, returning to business once more. "Yes. David Courtenay. I'm sorry to say this, but I believe there was foul play regarding his estate." Sylvia gasped, but Walter held his hands in the air to quieten her. "Now, before we begin to panic, I still have a lot of investigating to do. I have no firm evidence yet, only a thought."

"Of course," Sylvia said, gripping the handle of her cup so hard that she was worried the fine china might break.

"However," Walter continued, dipping his head, "I have reason to believe that his business partner, one Mr Edward Willoughby, was somehow involved."

Sylvia gasped again. "Mr Willoughby! I'm sorry to say that does not surprise me one bit."

Walter raised his eyebrows at her. "Is that so? How interesting. Would you mind at all telling me more?"

Sylvia raised a shaky cup to her lips and took a sip to calm herself, and then she nodded. "He has always had a … fancy for Celestina. He has lusted after her in quite an open and evident way." She shuddered. "It's always made us both feel uncomfortable if I'm honest. He is lascivious at best."

Walter threw her a sympathetic look. "I can only imagine. Here, have a piece of shortbread."

With her saucer balanced in one hand, Sylvia reached over and took a piece with her other. She nibbled it anxiously, though the sugar seemed to help revive her somewhat.

"I'd wager Mr Courtenay himself knew it too," Sylvia continued, settling into her tale telling. "He always kept her well away from Mr Willoughby. I mean, he didn't like her socializing much at all, but it was far more stark with Mr Willougby."

"I see," Walter said. He sat back in his chair and rubbed his hand across his chin. "He sounds like an awful sort of man."

"Oh, he is," Sylvia said. "A brute and no mistake. I don't think you'd like him at all. Not after … well." She blushed again. She was about to bring up something personal that he'd told her last time they met, the story about his mother, but she suddenly felt the discussion a touch too intimate and withdrew.

"No," he said firmly. "I quite agree. But I'm not sure how that relates to the estate."

"Well, that's the funny thing." Sylvia leaned forward and put her cup and saucer down, returning her hands to her knees. "Mr Willoughby seemed to know all about what had become of Mr Courtenay's estate even before Celestina was told!

It was the strangest thing. And he had a long list of reasons to hand when Celestina asked him about it. None of them made sense, of course—he said that Mr Courtenay was not careful with money, that he made foolish investments, but we—"

"All know that isn't true of David Courtenay. His reputation precedes him."

"Exactly!"

They shared a moment looking at each other, triumphant that they'd come to the same conclusion. But then the realization dawned upon Sylvia, and her smile slipped.

"Oh, so do you think Mr Willoughby had something to do with it?"

Walter nodded. "I'm afraid that's where my thoughts led me, yes. As I say, I need to investigate the matter further, but for now …"

He trailed off, and the pair sank into a solemn silence. Sylvia fiddled with the edge of her shawl while Walter chewed his bottom lip.

"Edward Willoughby," he said eventually. "Has he visited often since Mr Courtenay's death?"

"Too many times," Sylvia replied. "But he doesn't know we're staying with the Duke of Exeter, thank goodness. He has not bothered her since she began her employment."

"Well, that is something, at least. I would be otherwise concerned for her safety."

Sylvia smiled at him, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "You are a kind man, Walter Rivers. Though the circumstances of our meeting were unfortunate, I am glad you have come into our lives. I know Celestina will be equally grateful."

"I am always happy to help the worthy."

They shared another moment, and Sylvia's gaze caught on his. She had never before felt so drawn to a man—to anyone. There was a magnetism that seemed almost otherworldly. But she quickly broke the spell, looking away and clearing her throat. She might have been falling for the handsome solicitor, but she had to be realistic. He'd never be interested in a maid.

"I suppose, if that's all you need, then I ought to go," she said, standing up and gathering her belongings. She marched to the coat stand and selected her cloak without waiting for the clerk.

"Oh!" Walter sounded shocked, but she decided to ignore it. "Yes … I suppose I ought to get back to work too." He chuckled. "I will let you know if I find anything else out, and in the meantime, I shall let you decide what to tell Mrs Courtenay—if anything."

"Thank you." She smiled gratefully at him, a hand on the doorknob ready to leave. She turned, opening it.

"Wait!" he called, and she turned back, looking at him hopefully.

"Yes?"

"I … I couldn't possibly see you walk home alone. It would be ungentlemanly of me. My clerk shall return you in my carriage."