Page 46 of The Vanished Bennet Sister

Elizabeth took the box. The letters inside were arranged by date — of course they were; this was Mary — complete with a neat stack of pages in an unfamiliar hand, the topmost bearing a London direction. 99 Jermyn Street.

She looked at Thomas, who had appeared in the doorway just in time for further questioning. She beckoned him to come closer. He did as asked, anxiously looking at the page she tilted in his direction.

"Do you recognise anything familiar?"

"Yes, Miss. That’s the same address Miss Mary asked me to deliver her note to. It's a townhouse located at the far end of the street, painted a deep shade of blue."

"Before we proceed, I believe it would be best to read those letters,” Jane said. "For all we know, this Elena lady might be unrelated to Mary’s disappearance. Moreover, if she is, we need to have the necessary details to confront her about Mary. We cannot do that if we're ignorant of the nature of the relationship between Mary and Elena."

There was a contemplative pause, upon which it was decided that Mary's letters would be read. After all, doing so was the best logical method that would explain her disappearance.

Chapter Twenty-one

Mary

The rain began just after Elena joined Mary at the bench, and it was Elena who suggested that they ought not to remain where they were.

Mary had agreed without argument. She was in no condition to argue against an arrangement that moved her out of the cold and into a space where she could think better. Moreover, Elena’s townhouse was nearby, and as she explained with her hand on Mary’s arm in gentle steadiness, Mary was in considerable distress and required guidance rather than being left alone.

Elena was a beautiful woman with dark hair and eyes that were a rich brown, full of depth. Looking at her brought a sense of familiarity that Mary couldn't place.

The townhouse was narrow on the outside and considerably more spacious within, and it had been furnished with care. The entrance hall was lined with a dark red, high-quality Turkish rug, and there was a portrait above the side table that she did not look at closely. The sitting room which she was guided into had a fire already built and a set of chairs lined with supple foam that made them easy to occupy.

The furnishings were not showy, but they were unique. The entire decoration had a refinedness that required neither announcement nor attention, existing in the room as a statement of what the occupant considered sufficient. There were books on a case near the window, not decorative books but read ones with spines cracked, several with slips of paper marking passages.

All of it revealed that the space was occupied by someone with refined taste. Mary noted this and set it aside, because there were more pressing matters to attend to.

Elena had placed her hand comfortingly over Mary’s before calling for tea. Then she sat across from Mary with the full, uninhibited presence that had always characterised her letters, and said: "Now, tell me everything."

So Mary told her all that had occurred recently in full detail. She told Elena about how she'd ventured towards the morning room and the subsequent conversation she overheard. She went on to say more about Mrs Bennet, their discussion in the sitting room at midnight, and everything that had accumulated across the weeks of the season into the afternoon's reckoning.

Elena listened patiently through it all. She was entirely still but the focus on her face showed her complete devotion. She made none of the small sounds of sympathy that most people deployed as evidence of their engagement. She asked a few questions, all of them succinct, and when Mary finished she paused for a long moment.

"What happened to you today is a mere fact about your history," she said finally. "It is not a statement about who you are. Your traits and values are yours and nothing that was said in a hallway this morning has changed them."

Mary let out a deep exhale. Elena’s words had dug deep into her, producing a sensation of relief. She was glad she had sought her friend out. "I suppose the right thing is to inhabit the painful space within me in the best way I know how. I imagine the feeling will ease with time, even if that doesn’t seem to be the case at this moment."

"That awareness is sufficient for today," Elena replied. "Knowing it will do."

They drank their tea as the fire burned steadily. They spoke for a considerable time, and during this, Mary became aware that something had shifted, not in the facts of the situation, which remained exactly as they were, but in her capacity to hold them. Elena's presence had the effect she had always had on paper, and more so in person: it made things bearable by making the person holding them feel less alone.

It was during this interval that the door of the sitting room opened.

"My apologies," Elena said to Mary rather than to the man in the doorway. "James has been with me for a long time. He manages the house."

James was the largest man Mary had ever seen.

His face was composed in the manner that made it clear that his appearance had always preceded him and he had never needed to supplement it with expression. He looked at Mary with a look she could not read. Then he turned to Elena, and something passed between them that was not speech but was close to it.

"Is everything in order?" Elena said aloud.

"Quite so, ma'am," James replied. He had a low tone that matched the look of him.

He withdrew and Elena turned back to Mary, intending to resume a conversation that had been briefly interrupted.

Mary glanced at the door through which James had gone.

"He is very imposing."