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Neither did he show up as the masked vigilante. She waited for him nightly, leaving the window open, but he was nowhere to be seen.
A note came instead, a few days after the incident, asking after the entire family’s health and sending his apologies that he could not be there with them during such difficult times. Apparently, he’d been in poor health and couldn’t come to visit.
Olivia didn’t believe that lie for a moment. As an unmarried lady, she could not exactly pay a visit to a bachelor’s lodging, no matter how friendly they were. Despairing ever to see him again, she decided to pay a visit to his cousins. She could call on Mrs. St. John and find out if Jarvis was even in London.
With that plan in mind, she sat in the carriage and counted the houses they passed. It was only a few houses away from Olivia’s house, so the journey wasn’t long.
The carriage stopped, and Olivia looked at the townhouse before her. It looked dark and imposing. She scaled the steps, her maid trailing after her, and raised the knocker. There was a long pause without anyone answering the door. Olivia frowned. Their butler never made visitors wait so long.
She raised the knocker again. The door finally opened, and an elderly but stately butler looked at her with what looked like surprise.
“I am here for Mrs. Helen St. John,” Olivia said.
The butler let her in, and Olivia looked around.
Had she ever been to this house? She was certain she had, although she truly did not remember. She was used to bright and welcoming townhouses such as her friend Caroline and Annalise’s—she had never been in Lavinia’s house, as her father wasn’t fond of his daughter’s visitors.
However, this townhouse was… different. It was large and mostly empty. Her heels echoed through the marble halls when she was escorted to a similarly big and bare drawing room. The entire house looked like a mausoleum.
Olivia sat in front of the hearth because the room made her feel cold and awaited the mistress of the house to join her.
Olivia wasn’t close with Mrs. St. John. It wasn’t odd considering Olivia wasn’t much for company, but even more than her, Mrs. St. John wasn’t outgoing either. Olivia hadn’t seen her during many society events, even when her husband was there.
“Miss Olivia,” Mrs. St. John said in a soft, pleasant voice from the doorway. “What a pleasant surprise.” She sailed gracefully into the room.
“Mrs. St. John.” Olivia stood and curtseyed.
“Please, do sit down.” Mrs. St. John took a seat across from Olivia and looked at her expectantly. After a moment of awkward silence, she added, “Would you like some tea and perhaps biscuits?”
“Yes, please,” Olivia said with a smile.
She had planned the outing, decided what she was going to say to prompt Jarvis’s visit, but she hadn’t thought about the basics. How to start the conversation.
Olivia felt ill at ease. Usually, the hostess carried the conversation, and it was obvious Mrs. St. John awaited Olivia to state her business. Olivia didn’t want to just jump into her speech, so they sat awkwardly staring at each other.
Olivia looked around, grappling for something to say.
“You have a lovely home,” she finally pushed past her lips.
Mrs. St. John waved the flattery away with a giggle. “It’s rather empty. I don’t have much time or strength to redecorate. Perhaps in the spring.”
She looked pale and quite thin. Olivia wondered if some illness was causing her to look this way. She’d never noticed that before. Or perhaps she just didn’t pay attention, but something about the way she said that she didn’t have the strength to decorate her own home struck Olivia as odd.
Olivia suddenly remembered that Mrs. St. John had exited the Roth house party because she was feeling unwell. Olivia also remembered her husband’s constant protectiveness and the fact that he didn’t want to let her play blind man’s bluff.
“Mrs. St. John—”
“Oh, please, call me Helen!”
Olivia nodded. “All right then, Helen. I am sorry to bother you. I know you weren’t feeling well. Are you feeling better?”
“Oh, it is not a bother. I enjoy having visitors. I wish I had more,” she said with a smile. “My husband is… very protective of me. He doesn’t let me experience much excitement—which I appreciate, but it gets quite boring.”
“Why does he not let you experience excitement?”
Helen smiled. “I appreciate your directness—”
Olivia grimaced. “Was that rude?”
