3. Estelle

3

Estelle

B y the time Penelope and I had given the dog a bath, dried him with a towel, and given him a scrap or two from last night's supper, Percival was in a powerful snit.

Penelope had brought out a stack of old blankets for the dog's bed, which we put near the fire.

"Take a little rest," I said to the dog as I put him onto the makeshift bed. Thus far, he hadn't barked, only whined or whimpered. His tail wagged before he curled up into a ball and went to sleep. I gave him one last scratch behind the ears before facing Percival.

"Tell me everything," Percival said, turning from where he stood by the window.

"Yes, well, what happened is—I was walking back from the dressmaker, who was absolutely lovely and very efficient. Please thank your mother for making the appointment. She's making three new day dresses and two evening gowns. I won't need them unless I'm invited somewhere, but your mother had given her instruction to make both. I don't know why, but it was thoughtful of her."

"You needed new dresses, and Mother knows what to do, so I asked her to communicate our needs," Percival said, shrugging as if it were of no consequence. "Anyway, when you left the shop, what happened?"

"I heard this cry, almost like a human baby." I shuddered, the sounds of my baby's cries haunting me until I pushed the thought aside. "And I looked into the alley, and there he was. Just curled into a miserable ball. I had to bring him home. What kind of person just left him like that?"

"Stella, as much as I admire your big heart, I don't care about the dog. Not right now, at least."

"What?" My mouth fell open. "Not care about the dog? How do you mean?"

"I want to know about the man who was following you."

"Oh, well. Are we sure he really was? Following me, that is?"

"I'm certain."

"But who would care about me?" Who could have sent someone to follow me? My father? Simon? Someone else?

"You didn't notice him?" Percival asked.

"No. I'm sorry."

Percival rubbed his eyes. "I'm not going to sleep tonight."

"I'm safe here. Benny won't let anyone get to me." Our doorman seemed the conscientious sort and had clearly taken a liking to me.

"Unless they hurt him to get to you."

That hit me hard. So hard my legs went numb. I sank into a chair. "Do you think it's my father?" I whispered, too horrified at the thought to say it any louder. Why would he follow me? What could he want from me? Other than to know where I lived? Did he want to see me?

Percival was pacing around the room, stopping occasionally to peek out the window. "I've no idea. I want you to stay inside for now. I'm sorry, but until I know what's happening, I don't want you out and about."

"What about him?" I gestured toward the dog. "He'll need to go outside to…you know."

"Perhaps Penelope can take him?"

"What if they try to hurt her to get to me? I couldn't bear it if anything happened to her." Penelope had been such a loyal companion and friend. She deserved better than to be harmed because of me.

"Yes, you're right." Percival sat across from me, spreading his hands over his knees. "Here's what we're going to do. I'll hire a bodyguard to keep watch on your apartment. Anyone suspicious, he'll take care of."

I swallowed. "By take care of—you mean…?"

"I don't know." Percival ran a hand through his hair, sounding cross and harassed.

"Percival, I don't think a bodyguard is necessary. I'll stay inside."

"I want you to stay inside, yes. But I'm hiring someone to keep watch over you. Also, you must send Penelope out for errands. Just until we know who this is and what they want."

"All I've done since you found me on the train is cause you trouble. I'm sorry."

He lifted his gaze to meet mine. "You needn't apologize. None of this has been your fault."

I took in a deep breath, hoping to calm my muddled thoughts. "Perhaps my father discovered the connection between you and me. Could it have made him worried that I would discover the truth about what he did to your family and wants to make sure I remain quiet?"

Percival nodded. "Moving in here may have alerted him to our connection, I suppose."

"Or maybe he thinks I know where Mauve and Pierre went? They left for France soon after I came to the city. Could he be trying to find them? For Mother? She lost us all at once." I'd not spent much time thinking about my mother since I'd fled. My anger toward her might have been the strongest of all. How did a mother allow her husband to do what he'd done to me and to Mauve? If he hadn't had Constantine killed, we would be married now. Mireille would be with me and not my twin. Everything in my life would be different.

But as I'd learned over and over since Connie's death, I could no longer dream of what could have been and instead must accept what is.

"Have you received any letters from your sister?" Percival asked.

I flushed with shame. "No. I promised to write, but I haven't. She and Pierre have no idea where I am other than here in the city. Pierre took them to his family's vineyard in Bordeaux."

"You have the address?" Percival asked. "Why didn't you write to them?"

"I-it's hard to explain."

"Try."

"There are two reasons. Firstly, I'm ashamed of what's become of me."

Percival flinched but made no comment.

"Secondly, when I dig deep within myself, examining what is right and what is best for all involved, it is for me to remain absent from Mireille's life. Pierre and Mauve deserve to raise Mireille as their own, without ghosts from the past confusing her."

"They might have been able to help you. Financially, that is."

"No, Pierre's family's not wealthy. They would not have anything to spare."

"And you're too proud to ask," Percival said.

I didn't answer, merely nodded as tears filled my eyes. "It's too painful to hear about her and not be there to witness any of it."

He leaned closer, taking my hand for a moment and just as quickly dropping it. "I wish I could take your pain away. I would if I could."

I looked into his sympathetic eyes. "I know."

"I'm going to talk to Simon. I don't believe he's behind this, but I want to make sure. Having you followed gives him nothing. He already knows where you are." He stood. "In the meantime, please stay inside." He gestured toward the dog. "I'm assuming you're keeping him?"

"Where else would he go?" Like me, he didn't have a lot of choices. "He doesn't have anyone, obviously. We fit together that way."

"You have me."

Not in the way I wanted, but I nodded in agreement, forcing a smile. "Yes, and I'm grateful."

"Please, try and stay out of trouble. I leave you alone, and look what's happened." Percival smiled, gesturing toward the sleeping dog. "Are you sure you want him to stay?"

"More than anything."

"Fine. But I am sincere in asking you to please ask Penelope to take him out."

"I promise. But is it possible you're overreacting just a small amount?"

"If I am, then so be it," Percival said. "I want you to be safe. That's all."

"Thank you." I touched the sleeve of his jacket. "I appreciate your concern."

I walked Percival to the door and closed it behind him, listening to his steps as he made his way down the hallway.

Penelope, who had been hiding in the kitchen, came out to see if I needed anything.

"No, I'm fine," I told her about the man following me and Percival's worry. "He's sending a man over to guard the door."

"We can't be too safe, I'd imagine," Penelope said.

"I suppose not."

An hour or so later, Percival returned with a young man by his side. "This is Henry. He'll keep a close watch," Percival said.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Henry." I flushed, embarrassed by his presence. This was too much. Or was it? My father had killed Connie and Mr. Price. He clearly had no loyalty to me, but would he actually physically harm me? If it was indeed Father. I still hadn't ruled out my nemesis, Simon Price. But honestly, I felt tired and numb without an anchor.

At least I was warm and fed. I must remember to be grateful.

"At night, he'll stay outside your door, ensuring no one gets in," Percival said.

Henry had a broad face, floppy blond curls, and big blue eyes. Percival, who wasn't a small man himself, looked dwarfed next to the wide-shouldered, broad Henry. Where had he found him?

"Henry has worked as a guard in several capacities," Percival explained. "He comes highly recommended."

"Thank you, Dr. Bancroft," Henry said. "I'll do my best to keep them safe from harm."

"I must go," Percival said. "I have a patient to look in on, but I'll be back later for dinner."

In all the excitement, I'd almost forgotten.

"I'll return after dark," Henry said to me. "I'll be right outside your door. Please don't hesitate to ask if you need anything at all."

"May I speak with you?" I asked Percival. "Alone."

Henry excused himself, leaving me to face Percival.

"A bodyguard is completely unnecessary," I said. "I promised you I'd be careful."

He ran both hands through his hair. "If anything were to happen to you—I couldn't stand it. Please, humor me. Let me do this."

"Yes, all right, but I think it's a silly way to spend your money."

"Let me be the judge of that," he said. "Now, I must go."

I watched him walk out the door, wishing it wasn't so. I wanted to be with him, safe in his arms, not at the mercy of a guard standing outside my apartment.

I spent the rest of the day with the dog, encouraging him to sit on my lap while I stroked his adorable head.

When I was a kid, I'd asked for a dog, but Mother had not thought it was a good idea. Since then, I'd promised myself that when I was grown and married, I'd get one or two. That had seemed impossible until today. I had an apartment and plenty of food to share with him. Perhaps he would help me to feel less lonesome at night.

"You'll need a name," I said as I put him on the end of my bed that night. "What shall it be?" I folded a blanket and set him on top of it, hoping he would understand that if he were to be up here, he must remain by my feet.

He'd yet to make a sound other than a whine or a soft snore when he was asleep in the basket, and he made none now.

"You're certainly not a barker, are you?"

His ears twitched.

"What's a name for a quiet boy like you?" I searched my memory for what I would have named a dog if I'd been able to have one as a kid and the name Charlie popped into my mind. "How about Charlie? Is that a good name for a sweet boy like you?"

His tail wagged, and I could swear he was smiling at me.

"Charlie, welcome home."

He pushed his wet nose against my hand, and I pulled him close for one last snuggle before setting him onto the blanket at the end of the bed.

Soon, we were both settled in for the night. I yawned, nestling into my pillow. Percival had been correct. I felt much safer knowing Henry was outside my door.

As for Charlie? He would not be much of a watchdog, but I didn't care. He was perfect just the way he was.

The next morning, I was awakened by movement at the end of my bed. I sat up, rubbing my eyes, before remembering that I'd brought home a new friend.

"Good morning, Charlie," I said.

He sat on his haunches, watching me with his button-shaped brown eyes. I patted the spot next to me, and he trotted up to sit by me. After a good rub of his ears and belly, I reached for my dressing gown and got out of bed.

Penelope knocked and called out to me before stepping inside with a tray, holding my morning coffee and a roll. Fully dressed, with her hair pulled back neatly at the nape of her neck, she appeared as efficient and cheerful as always. "Good morning, Miss Stella. I've successfully found a leash for the dog. Shall I take him out for you?"

"Yes, but please, be mindful of your surroundings. Dr. Bancroft wants us to pay attention while we're out, just in case he's correct that someone wants to do me harm."

"I will indeed." Penelope picked the pup up off the bed. "What are you naming him?"

"Charlie. I don't know why, but it seems to suit him."

Penelope grinned. "Hello, Charlie. Shall we go outside and then have some breakfast?"

Charlie wagged his tail in agreement.

"You may tell Henry he can go home and get some rest," I said. "We should be fine as long as I stay inside."

After they left, I poured myself a cup of coffee and went to the window. Drawing the curtains back, I looked down to the street. Soon, Penelope appeared with Charlie on the leash. I watched as they walked toward the park, looking this way and that to see if I could spot the man from the day before. The street and sidewalks were busy already, teeming with folks on their way to church or out for strolls. Motorcars made their way along the street, flinging muddy snow from their tires.

I saw nothing out of the ordinary. Had Percival seen something that wasn't there? Who could blame him after all that had transpired between our two families.

Later, Penelope fixed my hair and helped me dress for the day. It was hard to understand all the ways my life had changed since leaving home. Ups and downs were part of life, but mine seemed to be in the extreme.

Mrs. Bancroft arrived around ten that morning, bringing a stack of books. I'd not seen her since I'd left her home months before, but I was not prepared for the well of emotion that flooded me. She'd become like a mother to me in the time I spent at their home. I'd felt understood and cherished under her care. When Simon exposed who I really was to Percival and his mother, I'd faced yet another loss. Now, however, she stood before me, rosy-cheeked and smiling.

"Dear girl, it's wonderful to see you."

Penelope took the books from her and set them on a table, then helped her out of her coat.

Mrs. Bancroft held out her hands, and I took them, tears stinging my eyes. "How have you been?" I asked.

"Well, although I've missed you terribly. We have a lot to discuss."

"Shall I bring tea?" Penelope asked.

"Yes, please," I said before ushering Mrs. Bancroft over to sit near the hearth.

Charlie, who had been asleep by the fire, lifted his head in greeting.

"What is this?" Mrs. Bancroft asked. "Or, rather, who is this?"

"Percival didn't tell you? I found a dog. I've named him Charlie."

"Percy was too worried about everything else, I guess, to mention it," Mrs. Bancroft said. "He's a cute little thing."

As if in agreement, Charlie placed his chin on his paws and looked up at us.

"He'll be good company," Mrs. Bancroft said. "Have you been lonely?"

"No, I've been fine. I have the staff here, so it's not bad. Not at all. I'm lucky to be here."

"I'm glad to know you're safe now. I worried myself sick after you left. I'd have gone after you if I'd had any inclination of where you might have gone."

"I'm sorry to worry you."

"No, we're the ones who let you down," Mrs. Bancroft said.

"How is Clara?"

"She's well. We had a quiet but joyous Christmas."

I wanted to ask if the child ever asked about me, but I didn't want to make her uncomfortable. Clara was only six. She'd likely forgotten all about me.

"Where do we begin?" Mrs. Bancroft asked.

"I've no idea."

"I shall start, then. I'd like you to know that whatever crimes and atrocities your father committed, they are his alone, not yours. What he's done—it in no way influences my opinion of you."

"He killed Connie," I blurted out.

"Yes, I'm aware. In fact, I've done some investigating of my own into your father and Mary's as well. It appears they have much in common. Unfortunately."

Penelope arrived with our tea and a plate of cinnamon cakes. We thanked her before resuming our conversation.

"Have you discovered anything I should know?" My voice shook. I wanted to know but didn't at the same time. How was that possible? To be brave and terrified in conjunction?

"Apparently, they were rivals over territories. Your father ordered the hit on him, as you know."

"Yes. Setting in motion Mary's demise," I said. "Making my family responsible for Percival's unhappiness. And poor Clara without a mother."

"I don't think we can blame it all on the war between mobsters. She was always fragile. You mustn't take any blame upon your own shoulders."

"Thank you. I find that difficult."

"I understand." She hesitated, taking a sip of tea. "That's all I know, which isn't more than you already did. I thought I might discover some new truth, but it is as we thought. However, if it's true that someone's been hired to follow you, then we might have further troubles. I know it will be hard to stay inside, but Percival's most likely right about what he saw yesterday."

"Thus the books?"

"Correct. I thought you might need something to do. It's a shame, as I was looking forward to having you back by my side. The last few months have been lonely. I'd not realized how much I'd come to rely on you until after you were gone. You surprised me, not only with your ability to learn quickly but your tenacity in keeping up with me."

"Thank you. I'm humbled." Her words pleased me no end. She found me useful and a quick learner? This gave me something warm to hold on to during the chaos that had become my life.

"Percy's hired someone to look into the man following you—to figure out if it is your father who has hired someone to watch you."

"It has to be," I said. "He's discovered where I am and wants to make sure I won't go to the police with what I know. There can be no other explanation."

"Other than Simon."

"Yes, of course." Simon. How I wished he'd never returned from Europe.

"I've been thinking through that possibility and have come up with nothing. What possible motive could he have? Is he disturbed that Percy's taking care of you? Yes. But I don't think there's anything he's trying to prevent. He has no ties to illegal acts, thus, I see no reason for him to have you followed."

"He's protective of his sister," I said. "Percival's friendship with me disturbs him."

"Yes, but still. Why would he have you followed? What happens between these walls he is not privy to."

I flushed with heat at her implication.

"Now, none to that," Mrs. Bancroft said. "I know you and Percival have vowed to remain friends only. It's a shame."

Simply too mortified to respond, I kept silent, perspiration dampening the palms of my hands. Mrs. Bancroft clearly had different ideas about morality than her son. Or me, for that matter. Had age changed her? Exposed her to enough hurt and disappointment from her own marriage and subsequent years alone that things no longer seemed as simple as they once had? Did she see the world in shades of gray? Her only son faced a lonely life without any chance for another love or marriage. As long as his wife remained alive, he was bound to her. I knew she wished only for Percival and Clara to be happy and loved. With the current situation, they would not have the love of a wife or mother. Unless a miracle happened, and Mary suddenly became well?

The thought of that made it hard to breathe. I was a terrible person, wishing that she remain ill so that I could continue living here. But the realities of what I'd faced before Percival rescued me were still fresh in my mind. Cold New York winters without shelter or food? They would have been my future.

"Did Percival tell you where he found me on Christmas Eve?" I had to ask. Not knowing would make it more difficult than just facing up to the truth.

"He did." She reached over the table and took my hand in both of hers. "I don't blame you or judge you. How could I, when there by the grace of God go I? I'm thankful he found you. I shudder to think what you would have had to endure had you stayed."

"You're a remarkable woman, Mrs. Bancroft," I said.

She waved her hand dismissively. "Stop that. I'm neither good nor bad. I want only for those I love to be free and happy. Anyway, I must go. I've several families to call on today, and I have to be home early to prepare for a party."

A few minutes later, Mrs. Bancroft was gone—off to do her work. I couldn't help but feel bereft upon her departure. I yearned to do something good and decent. After the kindness shown me, I felt a compulsion to give it to others.

But it would seem my father would ruin that too.