Chapter Nineteen
Evans Principle #i: Never forget that you are, first and foremost, a capable, honorable, responsible citizen of the world. You are an Evans. Your dignity is a legacy no one can take from you.
“My God.” It was all she could say, all she could think.
The image was undeniable. The stacks of copies multiplied the image like an unholy kaleidoscope. The woman’s hair, the tilt of her head, the line of her neck—Honoria recognized these almost as well as she would recognize herself, so familiar was she after years of close companionship. She had known Minnie since the girl’s birth. From that time, she kept the tacit promise made by her parents to support and protect Minnie, as well as her brother. How the girl she remembered in pigtails and a pinafore became this spectacle, exposed, posed in horrifically explicit ways, she could not fathom. What she did know was that she had to speak with Minnie, who by this time was usually hard at work upstairs.
She jumped when she felt a hand at her back.
“Lord Devin, what are you doing here?”
“The repaired books arrived yesterday, along with the one you returned,” he said quietly. “I came to settle my accounts. Since you weren’t in the front room, I thought I would try back here.”
He carefully took the photograph from her hand and placed it facedown on top of the stack, obscuring the images completely. His light touch gave her time to stabilize her racing thoughts.
“You know her perhaps better than anyone,” he said. “She will need you to be strong. We will find the villains behind this, but right now you need to focus on her.”
She nodded. Then he left the room, closing the door to the front room behind him without a sound. Only dimly did she realize that she hadn’t greeted him, hadn’t spoken to him at all.
She hurried up the stairs, frantic in her search for the girl. “Minnie? Where are you, dear? I’m here to help you! Minnie?” The rooms to all the doors remained open during the continued repairs, and she searched each one methodically for any signs. Finally, she found Minnie curled up on a narrow couch in a third-floor bedroom, one that would have been servants’ quarters originally. As she took the poor child in her arms—not a child any longer, Nora!—she saw the photograph crushed in Minnie’s fist and felt her most constant companion uncharacteristically pulling away from her, hiding her face.
“What happened, Minnie?” she asked gently. “You can tell me, dear. I know you. I know you are a good girl. Were you threatened? Were you forced? What did they do to you?”
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Duchamp.” Minnie’s words were broken by body-shaking sobs. “I never wanted to hurt you. You’ve been like a sister to me.” Her voice cracked. “But I truly had no choice.”
“Why, Minnie? What have you done?”
“I trusted him. He seemed so honest, so caring. We met by accident. One day he offered to carry the groceries home for me. Another day, he bought me pastry. He was so kind. And then he turned lovey, and it felt so good.”
Minnie shuddered, and Honoria took her hand for support.
“He would tell me how pretty I was, and he would kiss me in ways that made my stomach do somersaults. I was such a fool.” Minnie’s voice caught and tears slid down her cheek. “I thought he loved me.”
She ripped her hand from Honoria’s grasp and began pacing the room.
“He asked me for a special gift. He promised it would be safe, just between us. He swore I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. No one had ever treated me so. I would have done anything for him. I’m so ashamed.”
“What did he do to you, Minnie? You must tell me. It will be easier if you say it quickly.”
“There are other pictures. Photographs of things he made me do.” Minnie began to sob harshly again. “It sickens me. I can’t bear the shame.” Unable to catch her breath, she stumbled on the rest of the story. “Then he started threatening to share the pictures unless I followed his directions. He said he would give them not just to his friends—he would spread them around Haymarket, post them on advertising walls between here and Mayfair. Unless I let him and his friends into the shop when you were away.”
“Oh, Minnie.” As she moved to embrace the poor, distraught girl, she heard a scuffle and male voices raised downstairs. Quickly, she moved to close and lock the door, meager protection that would be from whatever new threat had arrived.
Meager, indeed, as Erich exploded into the room, breaking the doorjamb and slamming the door against the wall so hard, plaster fell from the ceiling.
“Wilhelmina! Tell me it isn’t true!”
Erich. Of course, this was what the situation needed. The young man rushed in, hair askew, a welt rising on his cheek, his shirt torn. Alex was close on his heels. Minnie folded into a corner and dropped her face into her hands as her body convulsed with weeping. Honoria bodily put herself between the siblings as she asked, “Erich, what’s happened to you? Did Lord Devin do this to you?”
He tried to get past his employer, but she grabbed his face in her hands and forced him to look at her, not his sister.
“What happened, Erich?”
His eyes red, he barely registered her. He pushed her hands off as he said, “The boys down at the pub. One of them was passing around these sheets, snickering.”
He threw photographs like the many on her desk. She quickly moved to gather them. In that moment, Erich charged toward his sister. Alex barely managed to catch him by the collar, causing him to nearly choke himself.
“We are trying, Mr. Hearsh, to figure out where these photographs came from and bring the source to justice,” Alex said calmly, as he forced the youth to face him. How strange to hear Erich called by his proper name. An odd look passed between the two men, one that she could not decipher. “Your sister is understandably beside herself. As upsetting as this situation may be, cooler heads must prevail.”
Before she could speak, Erich turned on his sister, kept at bay like a dog on a leash.
“Say it isn’t true, Wilhelmina. Tell me that’s not you. I took on three men at the pub to get those away from them. God only knows how many more there are. Tell me that’s not you.”
Minnie only curled more tightly into herself, sobbing hysterically.
“Clearly, we cannot solve anything right this minute,” Honoria said, as she bent over the girl, wanting to shield her from all of this. “Minnie will stay here with me tonight. She needs rest to calm her. In the morning, we shall try to piece all of this together. Do you understand me, Erich?”
He gave a curt nod, looking not at all satisfied.
“Promise me you won’t go back to the pub tonight.”
He stared at her, narrowing his eyes.
“Promise me, Erich.”
“Promise her, Mr. Hearsh, or I’ll tie you up and lock you in a closet until morning.” Devin’s support was surprisingly comforting, bolstering her even as her own thoughts wanted to scatter.
“I won’t go back to the pub tonight.”
“Go home, dear. Get some sleep.” She couldn’t help but be moved by his distress. He must feel as responsible for his younger sister as she did. But in his state, he could not help her. “I’ll see what I can find out from Minnie. You and I both know she is better than this. Whatever happened, she’s better than that trash. We will help her through this. Together, we can find those responsible and make them pay. But that will not happen tonight.”
That small measure of solidarity seemed to reach him. The tension in his scrawny body eased a little. He ran a trembling hand through his hair, leaving it askew, and walked over to Minnie slowly, quietly. As he took her hand gently, he said, “Min, all will be well. I guarantee it. Believe me, all will be well.”
Minnie whispered something unintelligible in response, and then her brother stood and stiffly left the room.
Devin looked at her, a question in his eyes as he tipped his head toward the departing younger man. She nodded, and without exchanging words, he followed Erich, presumably to see him home safely and make arrangements for tomorrow.
Meanwhile, Honoria took over, treating Minnie as she might a sick child. She stroked the girl’s hair for a bit and then led the way down to her own bedroom. Simple as it was, her room was still the most appointed in the house, and here she would watch over her charge all night, if need be.
Just as Honoria tipped over the knife edge of bone-deep exhaustion into sleep, Minnie spoke.
“I had to. Don’t you see? The very idea of those photographs spread along the Strand. I could never show my face in public. I could be arrested. I didn’t even know how it happened—how in one moment he was the prince of my dreams and the next—”
“What, Minnie? What did you do?”
“They wanted you out of the shop. They needed to know when you would be away for a significant amount of time and whether you would be in a public area where they could run into you.”
“The break-in? You told the vandals where to find me?”
The girl nodded.
“I trusted you. I would have done anything for you, if you needed me to.”
“I know, Miss Honoria. I’m so sorry. So sorry. You have to believe me. I can’t stand myself for what I’ve done to you. But I had to!”
“No, Minnie. There are always choices, even if none of them are perfect. You had the choice, and you helped destroy the shop. You had the choice, and you smashed the printing press as badly as if you’d taken a sledgehammer to it with your own two hands. You had the choice, and you knew what he asked of you was wrong.” She knew she was being hard-hearted, but this new betrayal crushed her.
“You don’t understand. It isn’t just about me. . . .”
Awareness rushed in, and Honoria gaped at Minnie’s midsection in the dark. How had she missed the telltale spreading over the past few months? Minnie and Erich never starved, but they’d never suffered an overabundance of food either. She should have noticed sooner. She just never would have guessed; truly, people see what they expect to see.
“No, Minnie!”
Minnie looked truly agonized and could barely whisper.
“It’s . . . I . . . I’m with child, miss. Oh, if my parents saw me now, they’d be so ashamed!”
“Oh, no!” She embraced the young woman whose sobs grew into great hiccupping, body-shaking misery. “Can you tell me, Min? Were you forced? Have you been harmed?”
“No, miss. I mean, I don’t know. I wasn’t abused, but I don’t know my own mind. I am the soul of evil. When temptation came, I welcomed it. I knew it was wrong, but when he kissed me and touched me, I just wanted more. I couldn’t control my lust, and he seemed overwhelmed by it too. I thought we must be in love.”
Honoria couldn’t trust herself to speak. What Minnie described was so very close, eerily close, to what she felt in Lord Devin’s arms. Were women universally so stupid? Or were she and Minnie just such a monumentally pathetic pair?
“I thought . . . well, I thought he would marry me and I’d have a house of my own and a family. No offense to you, miss, but I thought he would free me from a life of service. Now I have to do what he says so he will claim my child and see to the baby’s welfare.”
“Minnie, think carefully. With all you know about him now, do you really believe he’ll keep his word about taking responsibility for the child?”
Minnie’s face fell as she answered, “I have to believe him. I have no choice. I have to believe he will do right by this babe, as long as I do what he says.”
Honoria couldn’t let it go.
“Has he kept any promise he has made to you thus far?”
Minnie shook her head slowly.
“Then you do have choices. You have choices to make about what you are going to do next to protect yourself, about how you are going to take care of yourself and your child. Assume you cannot count on him.”
“No one will hire me like this. I have nowhere to go. I can’t raise this child on my own.”
“Oh, Minnie.” She held the young woman tightly. “You will always have a home here, or at least for as long as I have a home here. Try to sleep. You need to rest, now more than ever. We will think this through tomorrow.”
Day came much too soon, as did the heavy, solid footsteps of Lord Devin as he made his way through the house toward them. Funny how she already recognized his step. Funny how she didn’t find it presumptuous for him to keep a key to the shop. When he entered, he looked almost as if he wanted to come to her, take her in his arms, but instead he halted at the far side of the bed. At that moment, she wanted desperately to go to him and take comfort in his embrace. She gripped the arms of her chair tightly. Minnie slept on.
“Mr. Hearsh will be here within the hour,” he said, quietly. “He implied last night that he may know who is responsible for distributing the photographs.”
“Have you met him before? The two of you seemed somehow acquainted.”
“Our paths have crossed once or twice. He shall explain all to you when he arrives.”
Since he didn’t seem inclined to expand on that cryptic response, she went on to more pressing concerns. “You don’t think he would go to confront the culprit alone, do you?”
He shook his head but appeared grim. “He needs our help. There is undoubtedly more than one person involved in this operation. In fact, I have already sent word to a friend in case we have need of him, or proper authorities.”
“How can Erich know so much about this already?”
He seemed to brace himself before he spoke again. For some reason, it took him quite a while, during which he avoided looking directly at her. When his eyes met hers again, she knew what he would say.
“I said he would explain, but perhaps it is best that you hear this from me. Mr. Hearsh was the messenger who came to visit me at Sharling Worth.”
She froze. Not Erich too.
“Withersby sent him to give me an ultimatum,” Devin continued. “When you returned to London, it would be to close up shop for good. I do not know how long young Erich has been in his employ, but now I have no doubt that all of this is interrelated. That house you found when you followed the little girl—Peaseblossom House, it is called—is bound up in this. It must be the headquarters of these purveyors of obscenity, and I suspect it reaches much further than you or I could have predicted. Otherwise, their efforts to destroy you would not have gone this far.”
She’d listened for as long as she could. Until the bile rose in her throat. Until her pulse hammered in her ears, and she couldn’t breathe. Whatever else Lord Devin had to say must wait. She had to get out of that room, get out of his presence. She needed to find air before reason and reality collapsed entirely. She rushed past him and thanked heaven that he did nothing to stop her. If he so much as reached for her, she might strike him. She wanted, needed, to strike out at something. She ran down the stairs and out to the showroom.
It all seemed so farcical now. She’d devoted her entire life to this store, to establishing a safe and stable life around this store, and yet those closest to her had secretly been tearing it down, bit by bit. Those she’d trusted most destroyed everything she held dear. Suddenly, she couldn’t bear the sight of this place, the only true home she’d ever known, the haven where she’d grown into an adult. She’d given up her soul to it. Now it turned out to be just another fantasy built on ashes and air.
She yanked the nearest books from the shelves and threw them across the room. So many had been beyond repair; the ones that remained no longer held any worth to her. She’d thought them all a kind of magic bound in leather and paper, but she’d been a fool. She began throwing books harder, faster. She couldn’t clear shelves fast enough. Covers tore, pages scattered, and still none of it mattered anymore.
She caught a glimpse of Lord Devin from the corner of her eye. He stood in the doorway, watching. Waiting.
“I guess you told her, then.” She whirled around to see Erich at the shop entrance. She backed away from him until she realized she was moving closer to Devin and stopped.
“What have you done, Erich?” she asked.
To his credit, he did not look away. He also did not look proud.
“I never meant to hurt you, Miss Honoria.”
“I hope you understand that’s of no purpose right now. What I need to know is what you did. Who are you working for? What do you know about their dealings?”
“I didn’t know about the pictures, ma’am. Honest, I didn’t.” His fists were so tight, his knuckles went white. “I didn’t know they got to Min.” He shook his head hard, as if still unbelieving. “Why would they bring her into it? I was getting the job done.”
“Who are they, Erich?” Lord Devin asked. She shot him a quelling look. Only she had the right to interrogate Erich. She’d known him all his life. She was the one he’d betrayed.
“I don’t know all of them, my lord. I spoke mainly with Mr. Withersby. He’s the one who gave me assignments.”
Devin continued his interrogation, damn it. “This will take quite some time if you keep giving us information piecemeal. Spill it all, man.”
Erich’s head snapped up, his hard gaze at Devin making him look suddenly older.
“Why don’t you spill your own misdeeds, my lord? I’m trying to confess my sins, but it isn’t easy. Maybe you ought to try it.”
Devin refused to be baited. “Tell us what you know, and I will fill in from my experience. Mrs. Duchamp knows I am not blameless in this. You have some essential pieces of this puzzle, as do I. As does your sister. The sooner we can see all these pieces together, the sooner we can bring these villains to justice.”
“Fine. I did whatever was needed of me. Mostly, I served as a courier, delivering messages and packages. I had no knowledge of any photographs or nasty activities. I visited Mr. Withersby three times a week at ten A.M. to find out my jobs. I was given addresses, sometimes written messages, sometimes just spoken ones. Sometimes small parcels. For all I knew, it was a private delivery service.”
“What kind of messages did you convey?”
“More oft than not, they were deadlines like what I gave Lord Devin here. Some job needed to be completed by a certain time, and Mr. Withersby wasn’t satisfied with the progress.”
“There must have been signs,” Honoria prompted. “Something. Anything.”
“More recently, just before the shop was broken into, there were more parcels to deliver. And there were orders to deliver to glass-makers, chemists, sometimes paper mills. And Mr. Withersby started asking me more about the bookshop. He’d asked about it when I first started. After all, delivery is my job here.” With a glance at Honoria, he added, “Was my job here, I s’pose.”
She was sharply reminded of what was left here. Not much. And he was absolutely right. He could no longer work here. Neither could Minnie, truth be told. There was nothing left for them here. Suddenly, she felt very, very old.
“I must go check on Minnie,” she said as she made her way to the back room. “We will continue this discussion later. Neither of you should leave anyway until we’ve sorted this out, or tried to anyway.”
“Miss Honoria,” Erich called after her, “may I go with you? I’d like to see my sister.”
She raised a hand to beckon him toward the back. He looked as dejected as she felt, and her instinct was to comfort him, but her emotions were too raw, the pain of betrayal too keen.
“Lord Devin,” she said, without looking at him, “please make yourself at home.” She didn’t mean it to be cruel, but she heard the ironic echo of his welcome when she’d stayed at Devin House the night of the break-in.