Chapter 10

“She must have found another lawyer already!”

Grenville collapsed onto the table, shouting.

“Lawyers from Middle Side and Lower Side must have come swarming like a pack of dogs—she probably just had her pick! D*mn it! I was a complete idiot!”

As he wailed, Blake spoke quietly.

“Well, just wait and see. She might come back after all.”

He muttered with a sharp look in his eyes.

“…Or maybe something’s happened.”

***

Sunday.

Blake Ryan, dressed in a brown suit, got into his car.

“It’s been a while, Sir. Going to church?”

The driver, Morris, spoke up. Blake smiled and replied,

“It’s necessary for social activities.”

The United States of the New World was a nation of devout Puritans. So it was expected, regardless of class, to attend church service every Sunday morning. But for Blake, church was just another place to meet investors and clients. That’s why Morris always asked where they were going, since Blake changed churches every week.

“So, where to today?”

“St. Patrick’s Church on 33rd Street.”

“33rd Street… You don’t go there often.”

That church was where the old money, the founders of the New Adams elite who led the independence war 300 years ago, gathered. Blake rarely went to the church on 33rd Street, since he thought those who gathered there were all pride and no substance.

“Yes. But today I have a reason.”

Blake straightened his tie as he spoke.

“If you want to catch a rabbit, you have to go into the rabbit hole.”

***

Leaning against his car in front of the grand church, Blake Ryan looked impressive. Young ladies from prominent families glanced at him as they stepped out of their carriages, but Blake only checked his watch with an indifferent expression.

‘I wonder what happened to her.’

Celia Lancaster had followed Blake’s advice well.

A month ago, her ad seeking a lawyer ran in the paper, and James Grenville, seeing it, couldn’t hide his anxiety.

‘I let a big one get away! I let a big one get away!’

He was so frustrated he jumped up and down, and even sent a letter offering to lower his price first.

‘I already did! I sent her a letter! But she never replied! I waited in the office for two whole weeks, and she never showed up!’

Grenville’s actions were exactly as Blake had predicted.

‘But what is she doing now?’

It was a done deal. If Celia Lancaster just set foot in Grenville Law Office, she could sign a contract for half, no, a third of the original price. But Celia Lancaster didn’t appear.

Blake was starting to get curious. Why, after going to the trouble of putting out an ad, hadn’t she gone back? Had she been taken in by some second-rate lawyer?

‘I need to find out.’

The Lancaster family’s carriage appeared just before service started. Since they’d been shunned by New Adams society lately, they’d purposely arrived a little late.

Blake straightened his posture and focused on the carriage. But the only ones to step out were Scott Lancaster, his blonde second wife, the haughty eldest son, and the younger son with a dark expression—just four of them.

‘Celia Lancaster?’

She wasn’t in the carriage.

‘Strange. No matter how reclusive, to skip church?’

That wasn’t normal. In the culture of the United States of the New World, where attending church every Sunday morning was more important than life itself, missing service was as good as shouting that something was wrong.

Blake got back in the car and gave an order.

“Morris. To Plymouth Church on 23rd Street.”

“Plymouth Church? Isn’t that where the servants go?”

“That’s exactly why we’re going. Isn’t it the perfect place for real social activity?”

Morris was dumbfounded, but he couldn’t guess what Blake was thinking. His employer always wore a face as cool as a marble statue and rarely showed any emotion.

Soon, the black car stopped on the avenue at 23rd Street. Plymouth Church on 23rd Street was a completely different world from the church on 33rd. The humble white-painted building rang with lively gospel music, and people gathered around a big barbecue pit, chatting noisily.

Blake spotted a familiar face and took off his gentleman’s hat in greeting.

“Mrs. Betty. It’s been a while.”

It was Celia’s nanny, Betty.

“Oh, Mr. Ryan? What brings you here?”

Betty’s eyes widened in surprise.

“This isn’t the sort of place for someone like you…”

She muttered suspiciously. Plymouth Church was where the servants from New Adams mansions went. Every Sunday morning, the butler, housekeeper, maids, and footmen left the mansions on 33rd Street and headed for Plymouth Church on 23rd. They wore their cleanest clothes and best hats, attended service, and drank cider at the barbecue pit—this was their weekend routine.

Noticing the wariness in Betty’s face, Blake offered a friendly smile.

“I’m looking for a place to donate, and I heard Plymouth Church was a good choice.”

“Oh, really? You certainly do a lot of good, Sir.”

At that, the wariness disappeared from Betty’s face. Having successfully fooled the innocent nanny, Blake asked in a gentle voice,

“By the way, how is Miss Lancaster doing?”

“Oh, don’t even ask. The young lady…”

Betty’s face turned sad as she spoke. As Blake listened, his expression hardened.

“She’s locked up? For two weeks?”

“Yes. The master is being so cruel. How could he torment our poor young lady like this?”

Betty wiped her tears and told Blake the story of Celia’s confinement. After hearing her out, Blake folded his arms and said,

“So the ad was all for nothing. She can’t go out to meet a lawyer.”

“That’s right. She’s gotten so many letters in the meantime.”

Betty sighed deeply.

“It seems every lawyer from Lower Side sent a letter. Even that swindler lawyer did.”

“James Grenville? He sent a letter?”

Blake feigned surprise.

“Yes. I hid the letter in the laundry and brought it to her…”

Betty said proudly. A week ago, the swindler lawyer’s letter had arrived, and after reading it, Celia couldn’t hide her joy.

“But she soon became gloomy again. She has to go to the office to sign the contract, but she can’t leave the house at all.”

“Is the surveillance that strict?”

“Yes. You wouldn’t believe how thoroughly the wretched butler watches her. She hasn’t even been to church.”

“I see.”

“And now, after the ad, reporters are camped in front of the mansion again, so lately she can’t even open her window. Those cursed wretches!”

Betty fumed with anger.

‘So that’s what happened.’

Blake let out a small laugh. Then he scribbled a note, wrapped it in a handkerchief, and handed it to Betty.

“Mrs. Betty. Please deliver this note to Miss Lancaster.”

“What is it?”

“It’s medicine to drive away the leeches.”

Blake smiled as he spoke.

“Whether it becomes a key or a chain depends on her hand.”

***

The note’s message was simple.

[Next week during service. When you’re ready, hang up the handkerchief. I’ll open the way for you.]

“This note… Mr. Ryan asked you to give it to me?”

Celia’s eyes widened as she asked.

“Why? How did he…?”

Betty explained. She’d ‘accidentally’ met Blake Ryan at Plymouth Church, and after hearing about the swindler lawyer’s letter, he’d offered to help Celia escape.

Celia stared at the handkerchief that had wrapped the note.

‘He said it was a cherished handkerchief.’

This was already the second time she’d received it.

B.R. The initials, embroidered in golden thread on pure white silk, strangely resembled their owner. The ornate lettering of those two initials surely reflected the taste of a man who hid his true intentions behind a beautiful smile.

‘He’ll open the way… for me.’

What could that mean? Was it alright to accept his help again?

But Celia had no other choice. Compared to being locked in her room, it was better to follow the path he offered.