with Wild. These men may be villains, but they are not fools.”
“I have known several and found them as subject to buffoonery as men in any profession.”
“If Wild were connected with the Company, why should he expose himself now? Why should he involve me? Surely it is a risk to call upon me. I cannot see what he or the South Sea Company or Bloathwait or anyone else has to gain by handing me these minute pieces of information and asking me to proceed from them. If anything, such actions suggest that they do not work together—that each individual who provides me with information accounts at least one of the others as his enemy. I cannot claim to understand it all, Elias, but if this is an inquiry of probability rather than fact, I believe it likely that whoever killed my father and Balfour has other enemies, and that all of those enemies are attempting to use this inquiry to serve their own aims.”
“Perhaps these men were part of a cabal that has broken down. Perhaps the different elements have gone off in their own direction to manage their own affairs as they see best. I cannot say. What did you learn from your visit at the South Sea House?”
I told Elias about my encounter with the clerk, Cowper. “Until I hear what he has learned, I do not know that we can advance on that front. I wonder if it is not time for me to pay a visit to Mr. Balfour. After all, he is my employer. I ought to keep him informed.”
“Selectively, I should think,” Elias said.
“Oh, I quite agree. No one is above suspicion, Elias, and Balfour is a strange fish indeed. Perhaps if I apply a bit of pressure we shall see a crack in his edifice.”
“Splendid.”
“In the meantime, I have more immediate concerns, such as where I shall sleep tonight. Mrs. Garrison has sent me packing over the small matter of Wild’s ruffians forcing their way into her parlor.”
“That’s a nasty bit of news, isn’t it? Where shall you go?”
“Perhaps I’ll impose on my uncle for a while—until I have the time to search for a place. He has shown himself in favor of families helping one another out.” I said nothing to Elias about the uneasiness I had about my uncle. I can hardly explain why I found the very idea of villainy within my own family most embarrassing, but if my uncle had been less than forthright with me, what better way to uncover his deception than by moving in with him?
Elias then inspected the wounds inflicted by Wild’s soldiers, all the while indicating that my recovery would be speeded by the removal of a small quantity of my blood, but I would not have it. When he had finished his ministrations, I screwed up my resolve to face my pain and set off in search of my uncle. I found him at his warehouse, reviewing some ledgers in his closet, and I approached him with trepidation as I made my request, fearing that he would suspect me of taking advantage of his good nature. Such was not the case.
“You will have Aaron’s room,” he said after a moment of consideration. He then looked down at his ledgers, suggesting our business was complete.
“Thank you, Uncle,” I said after a moment.
He raised his eyes from his book. “I shall see you tonight, then.”
So, having had my favor granted in the style of a punishment meted out, I returned to Mrs. Garrison’s to put my effects in order, collect those things I could not wait upon her servant sending, and make my way out of her house.
This final departure took far longer than I had anticipated, and its taste was more bitter than I could have imagined. I suppose I had been foolish for not taking better care of it, for not locking it within a strongbox, or hiding it, or disguising its nature. Simply sliding it within a pile of papers on my writing desk had seemed sufficient, but I was proved wrong indeed. It was, therefore, with a kind of ignominious shame that I went forth to the generosity of my uncle’s lodgings to inform him that my father’s pamphlet, perhaps the most convincing evidence that his death had been orchestrated by the powers of ’Change Alley, had disappeared from my possession.
TWENTY-FOUR
I SAT IN MY uncle’s study staring at the mug of mulled wine that stood steaming on the table beside me. I had already moved most of my things to the room that I had been given on the second floor. I had already thought about my location strategically; Miriam’s room was located on the third floor, so while I had no cause to walk by her door, she had cause to walk by mine. I had only to wonder precisely how aggressive a widow she was.
In the meantime, my mind focused more upon the events of the day. Isaac had made the wine too hot, and in his efforts to handle the hot pewter, my uncle had already spilled a healthy amount on his austere brown coat. He hardly seemed to care, however, just as he hardly seemed to care that I had lost our only copy of
It had taken a great deal of courage, and two glasses of scalding wine, for me to confess the loss to my uncle. It was a confession that had hurt, for I felt that I had failed in my responsibility to my family, and this failure tasted far too much like the time I had run away from my father. But Uncle Miguel had only clucked in concern, asked me about my injuries, and uttered a blessing to thank God that I had not been further injured. I tried to put myself in his place, to imagine how he should feel, and I in no way could understand why he cared not about the loss of the manuscript. I wished that I could banish the suspicions conjured by his composed spirits, but I could only think that it no longer mattered to him if I found my father’s killer—if it had ever mattered.
He sat across from me, eyeing me with concern as his fingers cautiously probed the hot silver handle of his mug. “I fear,” he said, “that this inquiry of yours grows too dangerous.”
The pain throughout my body had begun to subside into a dull ache. My legs and my neck were both stiff, and my head pounded horribly. “I can hardly stop now,” I said, hoping to draw him out. “Does not this violence confirm our suspicions?”
“This family has suffered too many losses,” he said as he shook his head. “I cannot look quietly on while you are threatened as well.”
“I don’t understand. You wanted this inquiry. Has something happened to make you change your mind? Has Mr. Adelman convinced you?”
He laughed. “Adelman,” he said, as though the name were enough to explain his mirth. “You think me so easily persuaded by Adelman?”
“I could not say,” I mumbled. I thought about what Sarmento had told me—that my father hated Adelman. And I thought about how my uncle welcomed him at his table for Sabbath dinner. “We cannot just walk away from something because it is dangerous, Uncle.”
“That is precisely why we should walk away. Because it is dangerous. But”—he held a hand in the air—“you know your business more than I. I would not presume to tell you how to proceed or how to take care for your own safety. I merely wished to say, Benjamin, that I will not have you press on, put yourself in harm’s way, on my account.”
I could longer remain silent. “Why do you maintain a friendship with Adelman, a man who was my father’s enemy?”
He thought to laugh, but held his laughter back, as though it would offend me. Perhaps it would have. “Who told you he and your father were enemies?” He did not pause for an answer. “Mr. Adelman and I have had dealings since he arrived on this island. Your father cared not much for his involvement with the Company, it is true, and he was a man who could little trouble himself to conceal his feelings, but they were not enemies. Merely cool acquaintances.”
Perhaps I had misunderstood my uncle. Perhaps he did only wish to see me stay clear of danger. My uncle, unlike my father, was not a coward, but I knew him to be cautious, to guard his position in the community with care, to wish always to say the right thing before the watchful eyes of our Christian neighbors. His concern made me feel ungenerous for doubting him.
Intending to change the topic, I cleared my throat and took a gulp of wine, which had cooled enough that it was pleasingly hot. “Would you object if I wished to escort Miriam to the theatre?”
He shifted uneasily in his chair. “I am not certain that the theatre is the best place for a woman such as Miriam. Perhaps some other social event,” he suggested.
“You are very protective of her,” I observed.
