Florence and Mr. Belmont

Chapter 13

His lips brushed hers. Florence almost shivered from his gentle touch. The kiss lasted only a split second and he was yet starting slowly to lean back. Florence's first thought was Please, don't stop. But she still was too surprised by this sudden kiss. One moment they were laughing and the other... Well, they were like long lost lovers.

"I am sorry," he blurted out suddenly. Probably because Florence was still looking like a fool without saying a single word or at least expression. But she still didn't answer him. Instead she grabbed the collar of his old jacket and pulled him to herself. Kissing him again. And again. Until he gently took her hand and leaned back.

"I do not want to interrupt this," he murmured. "But we might be getting closer to Mayfair."

"Yes, of course." She looked out of the window recognizing the familiar streets. They were peacefully quiet for a few moments. Only the sounds of the streets and horse clacking were there.

"I think you should talk more with the other staff at your house." Olivier suggested. Right, Mary was still missing. "Maybe someone would know where she is."

"We already have. But maybe without my parents I could get more information out of them."

"And you should go through Mary's personal things. Or have you already?"

Florence shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "No, I have not. And maybe I shouldn't. I have heard she hates when someone is even touching her things."

"Flo, this is an emergency. For sure she will understand if she returns."

"Probably."

"Good. Then here is our plan. You will interview the staff and look through Mary's personal belongings. We will meet then and think about the next steps."

"My parents had just forbidden me to see you."

"Well... Then let's meet accidentally in Hyde Park. Let's say around the spot where we found Henry the last time we were there."

"Good idea. In two days? Around three in the afternoon?"

"Yes, my lady." Florence's heart made another jump. My lady. She felt almost guilty for fantasizing meeting Olivier again, while Mary still was missing.

***

"Didn't you hear the rumor that a villain is kidnapping maids and cooks and even housekeepers from rich households?" Asked Grace, the scullery maid, with her high pitched voice. She was without doubt the biggest gossiper in the Alberton House.

"Oh Grace, why would a villain kidnap a servant?" Florence crossed her arms.

"Isn't it obvious?" Grace made a dramatic pause. "For ransom, of course!"

"I don't want to be disrespectful, but wouldn't the villain rather kidnap like... an actual family member?"

This was it. No one here knew anything. She would have to do the one thing she dreaded to do - to look through Mary's personal things.

Florence waited until the evening, when Mary's two other roommates would be in the kitchen preparing dinner. She tiptoed silently through the servants corridor and entered Mary's room. The room was small but tidy. Florence noticed that under Mary's bed were a tiny trunk where she kept her stuff. She started looking through them. There were neatly folded clothes, a few borrowed books from the Alberton's library, ribbons and an old diary. Florence took out the diary and started to flip through the pages.

15/03/1834. It is finally starting to get warmer in London. I am glad that Florence likes daily walks. It would be terrible to be in the house all the time. This morning my dear friend and roommate Sarah brought me the leftovers from last night's ball. I was for a moment in heaven. I still have some cake left for the evening. I wonder if...

Florence smiled at Mary's entry. She missed her. Mary might be just a maid but a very smart and funny one. She accompanied Florence everywhere and was kind of like a friend or even older sister in some way.

Florence read her other entries, until she noticed that Mary had stopped writing in her diary since April. It was over two months ago. Florence also noticed a letter in the back of the diary. She took it out and started to read.

My dearest Mary,

I miss you so much. It has been too long. The hope of seeing you again, gives me the strength to go through the gray days. I often imagine your soft brown hair and your emerald eyes. I miss everything about you...

At that point Florence stopped reading. It was obviously a love letter. It was surely only meant for Mary to read it. Florence just scanned to the end of the page to see the name of the Author.

Samuel Smith.

Samuel Smith. Florence didn't know such a man. She quickly went in her head through the servant's names at their household. No. She never heard of Samuel Smith. But that arose another question. How in the world did Mary find a lover? Maybe he was a servant from another house. Or maybe he wasn't even a servant at all. But that would be nearly impossible, because Mary always had to accompany Florence.

Florence looked with disbelief at the letter. She would have to tell Olivier all of this. Maybe he knew Samuel Smith. Unlikely, but he still might find an explanation where Mary was. He is always clever. And creative. And funny. And, god, he is so many things. Her stomach dropped. She was still engaged and needed to end it as soon as possible. Now, she was sure she could never marry Henry. Not when there is Olivier. And then her stomach dropped again, because she realized that she had been in love with Oliver Belmont.