An hour later, Bailey stood alone in an upstairs bedroom while rainwater ran down the glass beyond the partially raised steel shutter.
Someone had brought her dry clothes. A cream sweater, dark trousers, and a coat that fit so well she wondered whether Stefan had known her measurements.
The thought unsettled her.
On the bed lay the ledger, her mother’s letter, and the ownership contract.
Three objects that had rearranged her entire life.
Bailey sat on the edge of the mattress and read the letter again.
I did not leave because I stopped loving you.
She wanted to believe it.
That was the most painful part.
Anger would have been easier if Evelyn had abandoned her carelessly. But love complicated absence. Love raised questions that resentment had kept buried.
Why had her mother never sent for her?
Why had she allowed Bailey to mourn for nine years?
Why had she trusted Stefan with the truth?
A knock sounded.
Bailey folded the letter.
“Come in.”
Mara entered carrying two cups of tea.
“I was told you take it without sugar.”
Bailey accepted one.
“Who told you?”
“Stefan.”
“And who told him?”
Mara sat in the chair near the window.
“Your mother.”
Bailey looked into the tea.
“Did you know her?”
“Yes.”
“How well?”
“Well enough to know she could walk into a room full of angry men and make them lower their voices without asking.”
That sounded like Evelyn.
Bailey felt an ache beneath her ribs.
“Why didn’t she come back?”
Mara’s hands tightened around her cup.
“She tried once.”
Bailey looked up.
“When?”
“Seven years ago.”
“Where?”
“She reached the city. Stefan arranged a meeting at the train station.”
“And?”
“She saw two commission men following you.”
Bailey’s breath caught.
“You were at a school concert,” Mara continued. “Your father’s driver brought you home. Evelyn watched from across the street.”
A memory stirred.
Rain against the car window. A woman in a red scarf beneath a station awning. Bailey had looked back because something about the woman’s posture seemed familiar.
The car had turned before she saw her face.
“She was there,” Bailey whispered.
Mara nodded.
“She left that night.”
“Why didn’t Stefan tell me?”
“He promised her he wouldn’t.”
“And now?”
“Now she is missing.”
The words sharpened the room.
“Stefan thinks the commission found her.”
“Stefan thinks many things and proves only what he can.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“No,” Mara said quietly. “It isn’t.”
Bailey studied her.
There was something in Mara’s tone. A carefulness that suggested another truth just beyond reach.
“What happened in Bellweather?”
Mara looked toward the door.
“Stefan will tell you.”
“My mother told me to ask him. That doesn’t mean he’s the only one who knows.”
For several seconds, Mara said nothing.
Then she placed her cup on the table.
“At Bellweather, Stefan was supposed to bring the investigator to Evelyn’s ship. Instead, he arrived alone.”
“Why?”
“He received a message saying the investigator had changed the meeting place.”