Read Online These Vicious Masks: A Swoon Novel by Kelly Zekas, Tarun Shanker - Free Book Online
Authors: Kelly Zekas, Tarun Shanker
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secretive!”
Mr. Kent gave me a sympathetic look. “She does have a point.”
I couldn’t help but sigh in defeat. Somewhere in her gaspings, Laura had hit upon the hard truth. I had to keep up the pretense as long as possible. Prove to Lady Kent, to society, that
the Wyndham family was still intact and its girls still irreproachable.
Miss Verinder’s nettling comments made it a struggle to be polite, but Mother’s unwelcome voice resounded louder in my head. Our good name was all we had left. Not only did I have to
protect Rose but her pristine reputation, as well.
She would need a life to return to when we found her.
“W HAT EXACTLY MIGHT you mean by no?” I asked.
“I mean, miss, that my customers value their privacy and wouldn’t appreciate me sharing it willy-nilly with anyone who comes in off the street.”
“Then you don’t have to share the whole list with me. I’d just like to know if you’ve had any customers since yesterday purchase crushed linseed or linseed
oil.”
The druggist shook his head. “No.”
“No? You have not?” I asked.
“No, I can’t tell you,” he replied.
“Please, sir, believe me when I tell you it’s a matter of grave importance.”
“I’m sorry, can’t oblige you, miss.” He crossed his arms to make the decision final.
I stared at the druggist. He stared back. This was his shop. He had nowhere to go. I couldn’t waste the rest of the day trying to wear him down. I looked to the druggist’s two
apron-clad assistants. They immediately spun around and pretended to busy themselves with rearranging some shelves.
Hang it all, this wasn’t supposed to be the difficult part! First the doctors from the Medical Society and the Harveian Society barely answered our questions. They all told us that there
were too many hopeless cases in London, and they did not have the time to help narrow our search. And now these druggists were guarding valuable Crown secrets? Could no one in this damn city
provide a simple piece of information?
With a sigh, I turned to the exit when the bell jangled, and in walked Mr. Kent with Laura behind him.
“Nothing from mine,” he said. “Any exciting information here?”
“Only that he thinks their sales log is none of our business.”
He frowned. “Oh. Well, that won’t do at all, will it?” He took off his hat and floated down the narrow aisle of glass cases to the druggist at the back counter. “Hello,
Mr. . . . Mortimer, is it?”
“Yes, sir, but as I told the young lady—”
“Do you have a daughter, Mr. Mortimer?”
“Yes, I do, but I don’t see—”
“Imagine if, God forbid, little Miss Mortimer went missing today. Would you scour the city, searching day and night, imploring any gracious citizen who might possess the slightest bit of
information to help you find her?”
“Why, yes—”
“Then please take this opportunity to be that gracious citizen and answer this question for us: Have you had any customers since yesterday purchase linseed?”
“No, sir. No one,” the druggist answered soberly, as if he, too, was disappointed by the answer.
Mr. Kent put his hat back on. “Ah, well, that was all we wished to know. Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Mortimer. I shall send all my sick and dying acquaintances here, should they ask
for a recommendation. Good day.”
“Good day!” Laura added kindly, unnecessarily.
And just like that, we had the answer and were back outside, the city bustling around us. As we crossed the road toward the next shop on the block, Mr. Kent whistled a tune, and I could hold my
tongue no longer. “How in heaven’s name did you do that?”
“Well, first you might notice the shop was called Mortimer’s, rather than Mortimer and Son’s, but the man wore a wedding ring and didn’t look portly enough to own a
successful shop
and
be childless. So you might look for signs of a daughter and find the display case in the back holding two dolls dressed to fit the
Mr. Kent gave me a sympathetic look. “She does have a point.”
I couldn’t help but sigh in defeat. Somewhere in her gaspings, Laura had hit upon the hard truth. I had to keep up the pretense as long as possible. Prove to Lady Kent, to society, that
the Wyndham family was still intact and its girls still irreproachable.
Miss Verinder’s nettling comments made it a struggle to be polite, but Mother’s unwelcome voice resounded louder in my head. Our good name was all we had left. Not only did I have to
protect Rose but her pristine reputation, as well.
She would need a life to return to when we found her.
“W HAT EXACTLY MIGHT you mean by no?” I asked.
“I mean, miss, that my customers value their privacy and wouldn’t appreciate me sharing it willy-nilly with anyone who comes in off the street.”
“Then you don’t have to share the whole list with me. I’d just like to know if you’ve had any customers since yesterday purchase crushed linseed or linseed
oil.”
The druggist shook his head. “No.”
“No? You have not?” I asked.
“No, I can’t tell you,” he replied.
“Please, sir, believe me when I tell you it’s a matter of grave importance.”
“I’m sorry, can’t oblige you, miss.” He crossed his arms to make the decision final.
I stared at the druggist. He stared back. This was his shop. He had nowhere to go. I couldn’t waste the rest of the day trying to wear him down. I looked to the druggist’s two
apron-clad assistants. They immediately spun around and pretended to busy themselves with rearranging some shelves.
Hang it all, this wasn’t supposed to be the difficult part! First the doctors from the Medical Society and the Harveian Society barely answered our questions. They all told us that there
were too many hopeless cases in London, and they did not have the time to help narrow our search. And now these druggists were guarding valuable Crown secrets? Could no one in this damn city
provide a simple piece of information?
With a sigh, I turned to the exit when the bell jangled, and in walked Mr. Kent with Laura behind him.
“Nothing from mine,” he said. “Any exciting information here?”
“Only that he thinks their sales log is none of our business.”
He frowned. “Oh. Well, that won’t do at all, will it?” He took off his hat and floated down the narrow aisle of glass cases to the druggist at the back counter. “Hello,
Mr. . . . Mortimer, is it?”
“Yes, sir, but as I told the young lady—”
“Do you have a daughter, Mr. Mortimer?”
“Yes, I do, but I don’t see—”
“Imagine if, God forbid, little Miss Mortimer went missing today. Would you scour the city, searching day and night, imploring any gracious citizen who might possess the slightest bit of
information to help you find her?”
“Why, yes—”
“Then please take this opportunity to be that gracious citizen and answer this question for us: Have you had any customers since yesterday purchase linseed?”
“No, sir. No one,” the druggist answered soberly, as if he, too, was disappointed by the answer.
Mr. Kent put his hat back on. “Ah, well, that was all we wished to know. Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Mortimer. I shall send all my sick and dying acquaintances here, should they ask
for a recommendation. Good day.”
“Good day!” Laura added kindly, unnecessarily.
And just like that, we had the answer and were back outside, the city bustling around us. As we crossed the road toward the next shop on the block, Mr. Kent whistled a tune, and I could hold my
tongue no longer. “How in heaven’s name did you do that?”
“Well, first you might notice the shop was called Mortimer’s, rather than Mortimer and Son’s, but the man wore a wedding ring and didn’t look portly enough to own a
successful shop
and
be childless. So you might look for signs of a daughter and find the display case in the back holding two dolls dressed to fit the
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