Whispers in the Reading Room (30 page)

Therefore, with one last look of apology, she turned away and crept down the back stairs, holding her purse tight against her. She couldn’t afford to let anyone in her life right now.

That was why she was going to Miss Bancroft’s house that afternoon instead of waiting to report back that evening as Mr. Marks suggested. She needed to keep her job there. If she succeeded, that would be enough.

Feeling better about her plans, Bridget headed toward the Bancrofts’ townhouse with a determined spring in her step. She was going to be fine. She had to be.

When she passed a man selling warm pretzels, she gave in to temptation and purchased one. And she had just swallowed her first bite when Sergio Vlas stepped out of a nearby crowd and smiled her way.

She knew he and Mr. Marks were contemporaries, but that was where the similarities ended. Whereas she trusted Mr. Marks with everything she had, and even though Vlas had been nothing but kind to her on the rare occasions she’d seen him, now she suspected Vlas could be far more dangerous than she ever imagined.

He had that watch. And he had looked at her so strangely when she’d noticed it when Mr. Marks walked her to the hotel.

She slipped the pretzel and its paper wrap into a pocket and then
gripped the lapels of her coat tightly together as he fell into step beside her. “Ah, Bridget. I thought that was you.”

“Mr. Vlas. Hello.”

“No reason for us to keep so formal. You should call me Sergio.”

She smiled tightly, unsure of what to say next.

Evidently, he didn’t suffer from such problems. “I am glad we ran into each other.” Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his bulky wool coat, he grinned openly. “The sun is almost shining through the clouds today. If it wasn’t so cold, it would be a nice day to be outside.”

“Yes, sir,” she answered politely, but even as she did, Bridget glanced around, getting her bearings. The Hartman was now three blocks behind her, and the Bancroft townhouse was still several more blocks to her east. Though they were on a main street, she felt as if she was vulnerable in a no man’s land. “Though the day is nice, it, um, makes little difference to me. I am on my way to work.”

“Yes. To Miss Bancroft’s house, I believe.”

She stumbled. “You know Miss Bancroft?”

He reached out and steadied her arm. “Careful,” he cautioned before continuing. “I know you were escorting her through Camp Creek Alley the other night, but of course I don’t know her. A fine woman like that would never want anything to do with a man like me.” After removing his hand from her person, he brushed a stray piece of yarn from his overcoat. “I don’t blame her for that.” He laughed sardonically. “I wouldn’t want to know me either.”

She certainly wouldn’t be too eager to be talking with him if she didn’t have other people around. “Well, then . . .”

“But I’ve made it my business to know most everything that happens along Camp Creek Alley,” he declared, his accent becoming more pronounced. “And since she was at the Silver Grotto, she is now a person of my interest.”

Remembering how they’d seen him the evening of the murder, how he and Mr. Marks had joined forces against those men, her footsteps slowed. The bit of pretzel she’d just eaten suddenly felt too big for her stomach. “Why is that?”

“Well, she is a suspect in the killing of Jason Avondale. But of course you know that.” He leveled a look her way. “Since you are of interest too.”

She shivered. “I am unsure how you know all of this.”

“It is worth my time to know.” His voice came low and his lips curved upward, showing his distinctive crooked teeth. “Don’t worry, Bridget. You don’t have anything to fear from me.”

She was beginning to feel like she had most everything to fear from him. He knew too much, and he was stepping by her side, and he was leering at her as if he knew a strange and dark secret that even she did not know. “I had nothing to do with Mr. Avondale’s death.”

“Of course not.” He whistled under his breath. “A woman like you? Of course you didn’t.”

They were only feet away from the Bancroft home now. Bridget stopped walking, causing Vlas to slow and turn toward her. She had to know what he was getting at.

“Mr. Vlas, I am not sure what you are trying to tell me.”

“Sergio,” he corrected. After a beat, he spoke again. “Only that it is better to forget and forgive than to dwell on things you cannot solve or fix.”

“I am still confused.”

He stepped closer, his hulking body looming over hers. “Darling, there will come a time when you might find yourself out of a job again,” he said slowly. “You might find yourself alone and desperate. Maybe you will even feel as if you have no choice in anything, and that it is better to attempt to hide than to reach out to others.” He exhaled. “If that happens, remember that you can always come to me.”

Gazing up at him, she felt her cheeks heat, just as the rest of her body felt as if she were being frozen stiff.

“Are you offering me a job?”

“If that is what you want.” His light-gold eyes shone.

She knew why he hired women at the Bear and Bull. “Thank you for the offer, but I have no desire to become a prostitute.”

He laughed. “I am not offering you that, Bridget. Never that.” He looked then at the townhouse ahead of him. “I wouldn’t want to share you with another man.”

She gaped at him. His interest was of a personal nature? But what kind?

He met her gaze, then blinked, looking a bit dismayed. “I know it’s hard. I know I’m not easy to look at. I’m not handsome and debonair like your Sebastian Marks. But you might find my rough looks helpful one day. And if not that, then perhaps you will find my devotion worthy of your attention.”

Bridget wasn’t sure if he was being honest or telling her tales. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved to hear his offer or sickened by it.

But she did know that for whatever reason, he had gone out of his way to find her. And to offer what small bit of support he could.

“Thank you,” she blurted. “Thank you for what you just did.”

A new vulnerability flickered in his eyes. “Of course, Bridget. Of course,” he said.

As a rush of crowd surged around them, men holding satchels in their arms and women walking with children and their escorts, Bridget watched him depart, his pace much faster than it had been by her side. As he turned the next corner, she saw him unbutton his coat and pull something from his vest.

She saw the gold chain, the one attached to the pocket watch that had looked exactly like Jason Avondale’s.

After the Wild West show, Sebastian guided Lydia to the White City. Just a few weeks ago, someone had ordered the remnants of the city to be surrounded by chain-link fence. The fence was poorly executed and even more haphazardly placed in the ground, in no small part, he imagined, because of the time of year. The winter’s cold had settled into the ground in earnest, and driving so many stakes into the solid earth had to feel like one of the trials of Hercules.

The fires that had claimed so many of the buildings had been fickle ones. Some of the fires had ravaged through entire buildings, leaving nothing but black ash on the ground.

Just a few yards to a burnt building’s right, other structures had remained looking as pristine as the day of the opening ceremony.

The main difference, of course, was the complete emptiness of the parks. No one was there, save for the occasional policeman on patrol or band of vagrants. And, on this afternoon, only the two of them were in sight.

Just as Sebastian pulled back one of the broken sections of chain-link fence, Lydia shivered. “I was never one to entertain fanciful thoughts, but this park now feels filled with danger.”

“There’s no danger here, Lydia. Merely the remnants of a very grand affair.”

“I know you are right. But still, I don’t feel entirely comfortable.”

A true gentleman would escort her away from the area as soon as possible. A true gentleman would have never taken her to such a place in the first place.

But the novelty of having her to himself was too pleasant to disrupt so quickly. Besides, he was growing fonder of the great White
City, with its Grecian columns and overwhelming visuals now that little remained of them.

“Did you know the mayor feared this fair would be a great failure?” he asked, almost rhetorically.

“I had not heard that. I must admit that I’m surprised.”

“The Columbian Exposition was enormously expensive. Federal monies didn’t come in as quickly as they were promised,” he explained, remembering the talk he’d heard among the gentlemen at his club. “Initially, the planning committees feared the crowds wouldn’t appear. Or that the trains to get people here wouldn’t work. Or that it wouldn’t be finished in time.”

“Their worries were for naught of course. This had some of the greatest crowds of any World’s Fair in recent memory. It even gave Paris a run for her money.”

He did so love her mind. “I didn’t realize I was speaking to such an authority on the subject.”

She laughed. “I’m not much of an authority. I merely read a lot. I have had access to the newspapers, you know.”

“You read both the
Tribune
and the
Times-Courier
?”

“I read the
Tribune
by choice and the
Courier
when its headlines are unavoidable.”

He wasn’t shocked, but her admission was a bit surprising. Even now, on the brink of a new century, most women were prevented from reading newspapers by their husbands.

She looked worried. “Are you shocked, sir? Are you going to stop me from reading the news after our vows?”

“While I’d love to shield you from the
Courier’s
luridness, I would never stop you from reading whatever you want. I like that you are smart, Lydia. That is one of the things I admire about you.”

She looked at him in wonder, her blue eyes looking even bigger
through her lenses. Looked as if she was trying to speak, then stopping herself.

He was taken aback. “What is wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” She clasped her hands together. “It’s just that your words mean a lot to me.”

“I am glad, but I have to admit that I’m at sea. What did I tell you that affected you so?”

“You are the first person who has told me anything of the sort.”

“Surely not. I know Avondale wasn’t the type to appreciate brains, but weren’t your parents pleased with your intelligence?”

“My father was, perhaps. I’m not sure. He wasn’t the sort to want to spend time with a daughter.” Still not meeting his gaze, she added, “My mother has been so intent on gaining me a husband, I fear she’s never considered any of my irregularities to be worthy of note.”

“Being smart does not mean one is irregular,” he said slowly, wondering if it was true that no one at all before him had made an effort to show her how worthy she was. “What of your governess? Surely she appreciated a bright pupil.”

“I fear I wasn’t her favorite student.” She looked away. “I had the unfortunate habit of correcting her. Governesses don’t care for that, you know.”

He laughed. “I don’t know, but I can imagine that wouldn’t go over well.”

“I’m glad I made you smile at least. I do love to hear your laugh.”

“I haven’t smiled so much in ages. And as far as laughing goes, well, let’s just say that is a foreign experience.”

“Then I am happy for our time together. I want to make you smile. You are a very somber man, Sebastian.”

“I haven’t had much choice in the matter, I’m afraid.” He’d been serious because he’d had to be. He’d learned at a very young age that
life was serious. Boys who didn’t realize that rarely lived to learn from their mistakes.

Not eager to go down the path of his past, he pointed to the Manufacturers building. “Care to enter?”

She wrinkled her nose. “It is very large. It also looks completely intact. How could we get inside?”

“There are ways if a person truly wants to go.”

“You sound cryptic.”

“Not at all. I’ve been inside recently.”

She looked tempted, but he knew no doubt her straightlaced manner was holding her back. “I’m still not sure. Is there anything within? I thought everyone took their things back home.”

“Some did. But some found it too expensive. Or they didn’t have the need. Or maybe they simply didn’t care. Looters have raided some buildings, but not this one.”

She hesitated, staring at the building dubiously. It was as obvious that she wanted to peek inside as it was obvious that she was more than a little bit afraid of what she would see.

“Lydia, it is merely suggestion. Not an order.”

“You will stay by my side?”

He heard the question in her voice. Detected the yearning for his company. Noted that he meant something to her. It was one of the sweetest sounds he’d ever heard.

“Of course I will stay with you. I will never leave you.”

After all, she was his. And the sheer knowledge of that, he realized, was something more profound than anything he’d ever experienced in his life . . . or ever learned from a book.

L
ydia could list at least a dozen reasons why going inside one of the fair’s abandoned buildings was a bad idea. All the reasons, by her way of thinking, were legitimate ones. It was dangerous. It was illegal. It was completely inappropriate for someone who was supposedly trying to safeguard her reputation. She should be concentrating on details about her engagement to Sebastian, not exploring abandoned buildings.