After making arrangements for the next morning and taking his leave of Evangeline at Waterloo Station, Sebastian made his way home. There were no messages for him at the pie stand. He hesitated at the street door to his apartments, knowing that he ought to take down or replace the wreath. Until he could afford the headstone, it was Elisabeth’s only memorial. He had no mourning suit, and to be seen in a black armband was bad form on any man not in the military.
He’d deal with it another day.
He found Robert waiting at the top of the stairs, eager to give him news. Frances was in the back, preparing their evening meal.
Robert said, “Doctor Percival took me to the natural history museum.”
“Just you?”
“And Frances.”
“Ah,” Sebastian said. “Good for him.”
He did not know Dr. Percival. All of his dealings had been with the brother, Dr. Reginald. Because of all their early correspondence over Robert’s education, the Langdon Down family had stayed in touch. They had even sent a representative to Elisabeth’s funeral.
Robert said, “I love the museum. I could spend forever there.”
Frances chipped in at that point, appearing in the doorway. “Spend forever?” she said, wiping her hands on a white towel and smiling to show that this was no complaint. “I was beginning to think he was planning to. We never got beyond the east wing.”
“You should go sometime, Father,” Robert said. “I’ll take you. There’s a pavilion with all the creatures from Buenos Aires we’ve been talking about.”
“I doubt that you’ll find Sir Owain’s creatures in any museum. Not in this world, anyway.”
“But the Indians say that makes no difference. I like the idea that spirits can pass back and forth between life and dreams. Because it means that Mother’s still somewhere close, even if she’s nowhere we can see.”
Sebastian caught Frances glancing at him. He briefly met her eyes and said, “Do you dream of her often, Robert?”
“All the time,” Robert said, almost cheerily. “You should, too. Then you’d know she’s always right here and you wouldn’t have to be so sad.”
To which Sebastian had no ready answer; and so with a change of subject that was like a crash of changing gears, he said, “And are those hands clean?”
Like a child ten years younger, Robert held his hands up for inspection.
Sebastian gave them a critical look and said, “I’d say they could use a wash before supper.”
Robert looked bemused, but he didn’t argue. He went off into the next room and ran the scullery tap.
Sebastian said to Frances, “Depending on what I learn tomorrow, I may have to go back to Arnmouth and finish my business there.”
“All right,” she said.
Belatedly, he realized what he’d be asking of her. She’d have sole charge of the household, and sole charge of Robert, for several days. Yet they’d had no discussion of such matters. Selfishly, he’d given such future arrangements no thought at all.
He said, “Are you sure?”
“Of course,” she said, and added a reassuring little smile. “Leave me the rent and five pounds. Shall I pack a bag for you?”
“No,” he said. “I’ve given you enough to do.”
He went into the bedroom alone. At the foot of the bed, Elisabeth’s old cabin trunk did double duty as a linen chest. He crouched before it and raised the lid. Then it hit him all at once: the scent of Elisabeth, of lavender and roses, from a sachet bag that she’d put in with the sheets and occasionally replenished with a few drops of her own perfume.
He was unprepared and, for a moment or two, incapable of anything. The sense of her returned presence was overpowering. All purpose was briefly dashed out of him.
He recovered quickly, but with his wounds refreshed. Under the lid was a secret compartment with a double-latch lock. Originally meant for the jewelry that Elisabeth had sold to buy their steamer tickets, the recess now contained a pocket-sized revolver wrapped in an old shirt, the gun’s cleaning kit, and a box of ammunition.
Sebastian took out the revolver and checked it. He’d bought it from a pawnbroker to replace the Bulldog pistol that he’d carried in his Pinkerton days. In England he’d had little use for it.
The last time he’d handled a pistol had been during the siege at the children’s ward. The day of Elisabeth’s murder, if only he’d known it. Seated on the bed with the empty gun in his hand, he suddenly found himself all but robbed of the strength to rise. He put his hand over his eyes and waited for tears that threatened, but did not come.
He wasn’t sure how, but his sister-in-law’s ready kindness had disarmed him. Perhaps he could take this one moment for himself. One moment to let out a little of the pain, and with that pressure vented he’d be able to go on.
He hadn’t heard Frances come in. But then he hadn’t been aware of the sound he must have made, either.
She knelt down before him and took his hand in her own.
“Sebastian,” Frances said. “Don’t fret. She said that all would be well. I do believe she’s with us, and she still intends it will.”
“Frances,” he said, recovering as best he could. “Aren’t you the strong one?”
Releasing his hand, she stood up, crossed the room, and closed the bedroom door. Then she moved back to sit on the bed beside him.
“We must have a serious talk about Robert,” she said.
“Why? Is something wrong?”
“No,” she said. “Nothing’s wrong. Doctor Percival thinks highly of him. He asked if we had considered what steps might be taken toward giving Robert his independence.”
“Independence?” Sebastian said. “I know he has a strong and capable mind, but he thrives with the support of those who love him.”
“Don’t mistake me,” she said, “I love Robert as much as you, but we need to face the fact that he’ll outlive us both. And when we’re gone, what then? An institution, Sebastian, to see out his days. He has no other family here.” She glanced down at the revolver. “You spend your days in pursuit of lunatics, some of them dangerous,” she said. “He’s lost one parent. If he loses the other, how will I support him alone?”
Sebastian was lost for a reply. The challenges surrounding Robert had always been immediate ones. Questions of the longer term had never arisen.
He said, “What do you propose?”
Frances said, “Doctor Percival has observed Robert’s phenomenal powers of analysis. He says that in the matter of employment you’ve set your sights far too low. With your permission he wishes to explore the possibility of finding Robert a placement in one of our scientific institutions.”
Sebastian could not quite believe it. “When was this discussed?” he said.
“This afternoon. At the museum. It was one of the purposes of the visit. Imagine it, Sebastian. He might even progress to an income and rooms of his own. With a housekeeper to take care of his needs, of course.”
“Does that mean you would leave me too?”
“No, Sebastian,” she said. “But I’ve been Robert’s faithful keeper for long enough. I can hope someday to be his loving aunt. I would not leave you. Unless I understood that you wanted me to.”
For Sebastian it was as if doors were opening and his life, after hurtling along blindly in the wake of Elisabeth’s death, were being pushed to make a necessary turn.
“Can we discuss this again?” he said.
“We will,” Frances said, and rose to her feet. She steadied herself with a touch on his arm, and he responded with a supporting hand. There was a surprising solidity to her; her looks had always been so delicate that he’d imagined her to be almost without substance.
“Thank you,” she said, and squeezed his hand before she stepped around him to leave.