Maylily - Chapter 13

No matter how many times he thought about it, it was still ridiculous.

Since Victor had last visited this office, a whole month had passed, and all that had been uncovered was the fact that the girl’s birth mother had died a few days after giving birth, the girl’s name, and the address of the second house she had moved to. Even that wasn’t her current address.

He was being chased by creditors, with his blood boiling dry every passing second, yet this damn detective was wasting time with nothing but slick talk. And that woman, why had she moved around so damn much?

“No wonder you can’t get out of the gutter with intelligence like this. Tsk.”

“And what does that make you, my lord, who can only afford to hire someone from the gutter?”

Provoked by the harsh insult, James shot back, and Victor lunged at him with bulging eyes.

“What? I’ve had enough of you!”

“What kind of nonsense is this? Let go of me.”

“You’re fired. Give me back the money you swindled.”

“Acting all high and mighty over that measly bit of cash. I spent it all on investigation expenses. There’s nothing left.”

“What? Measly? High and mighty?”

A fierce scuffle broke out between the one grabbing a collar and the one trying to shake him off. The detective, being shorter, wasn’t easily subdued as Victor had hoped, which only made him more furious. Enraged, Victor slapped James hard across the face.

“You son of a…”

James’s patience snapped along with his lips. He spat out a curse under his breath.

Enough of this. No amount of money is worth this filth.

Spitting the blood pooled in his mouth onto the floor, James reached to the side and opened the desk drawer. From inside, he pulled out a pistol and pressed the cold muzzle to Victor’s forehead.

“That’s enough.”

The situation had escalated in an instant, and Victor turned pale, raising his hands above his shoulders.

“Wh-why are you doing this all of a sudden? Put the gun down. There’s no need for this.”

“Seems like one of us has to die to end this. And I’d rather not be the one.”

“Over such a trivial argument, no one needs to die. You’re being dramatic. I-I’ll just leave now, so put the gun down.”

Despite Victor’s pathetic plea, James didn’t budge, nudging him toward the exit with the barrel of the gun. Trembling, Victor backed away until his back hit the door. He hurriedly opened it and ran out of the building. As fear faded, his burning anger returned.

“That bastard!”

How dare that lowlife aim a gun at me?

He needed to teach that status-defying scum a lesson, but finding his daughter came first.

“Just you wait.”

Kicking a stone on the roadside to vent his rage, Victor pulled out a crumpled piece of paper he had shoved into his coat pocket amidst the chaos. It contained the girl’s name and the address where she had supposedly lived when she entered school.

“Maylily?”

The name written on the paper didn’t sound noble, but it seemed fitting for a daughter who had inherited his features.

Victor never considered the possibility that the daughter might resemble her mother. He had long forgotten the face of the woman moaning beneath him twenty years ago. He only recalled, thanks to a recently acquired letter, that she had been a maid at a summer villa where she had been invited by a noble.

When the letter from nineteen years ago had arrived at Victor’s house, he had been fleeing abroad for some reason. Naturally, the letter had ended up in the hands of his mistress, Pamela, who was staying at the house.

Pamela, furious that Victor had once again been with another woman—and jealous that the woman had something she herself never could, Victor’s child—had hidden the letter. For a full nineteen years.

Then, two months ago, when Victor was being chased by loan sharks and his life was at risk, Pamela had pulled out the letter like a trump card and said:

“If we find this girl and put her on the marriage market, maybe we can scrape together some quick cash.”

Victor felt more irritation than shock or surprise upon learning he had a daughter.

Foolish woman. If she had told him earlier, he wouldn’t be scrambling like this, cornered by time and money.

Of course, if the daughter were alive, she’d be nineteen by now, so there was a chance she might already be married. But with no other options, Victor resolved to stake everything on finding her. Sitting around doing nothing would only lead to a fate worse than death: becoming a mining slave.

That’s why, despite his dire circumstances, he had pushed himself to hire James Hill. In the end, it had all been a waste.

“Just wait a little, Maylily.”

Victor unfolded the crumpled paper and tucked it into his pocket. With no money to hire a new detective and no guarantee that another would be better than that bastard, the best option now was to find his daughter himself.

He had already wasted too much time. He couldn’t entrust a matter of life and death to someone else any longer.

So, a few days later, Victor packed the paper with Maylily’s old address, the faded letter, and all the cash he had, and headed for Roden Station.

***

“I came because I have something important to report.”

It wasn’t a good sign that David, who had stayed behind to prepare for the opening of the Skaard Hotel’s Lurollei branch this summer, suddenly appeared at the Everscourt family’s townhouse.

Hugh, who had been getting dressed in the dressing room for the Roden Opera Company’s patronage party, dismissed his servant. The newly tailored white shirt and vest he wore with his evening coat suited his lean, athletic frame, honed by swimming and tennis.

“A telegram came in thirty minutes ago reporting that Victor Heywood has taken lodging near Dunwell Station.”

At David’s low-toned report as he approached, Hugh’s hand, which had been fastening the last button of his vest, paused. David glanced at him and continued with a serious face.

“It seems Mark followed Heywood, who boarded a train at Roden Station this morning, all the way there.”

Three days ago, when Hugh heard that Victor Heywood had fired his detective in Buhin, he had David assign someone to follow him. That man was Mark. Without knowing the full story, Mark had only been tasked with trailing and reporting.

“So, Heywood is now searching for his daughter himself.”

Having finished buttoning his vest, Hugh straightened his white bow tie, matching the vest, and tilted the corner of his lips.

David nodded in agreement. “We won’t know for certain until tomorrow, but at this point, that seems most likely.”

Dunwell, located in the north-central part of Riverton, was a transportation hub where several rail lines intersected. To get from Roden to Purdshire, one had to transfer trains there, and the journey took more than half a day.

So, considering the overall situation, the fact that Heywood had taken a room in a Dunwell inn made it very likely that his final destination was Purdshire, his daughter’s hometown.

“Have him followed continuously. Send more people if necessary.”

“Understood.”

“How long do you think it’ll take Heywood to find Maylily Aile?”

David mentally tallied the number of informants mobilized to locate Maylily and the amount of information compiled in the reports.

“If Heywood is acting alone, it will take at least three months. Maylily Aile’s whereabouts are quite complex, and the detective in Buhin gave Heywood the wrong address. It doesn’t seem to have been intentional, though. What should we do about that detective?”

If word got out that the detective had sold out a client’s information, he’d suffer the greatest loss, so he was unlikely to go around talking carelessly. Still, to avoid any risk from a moment’s carelessness, it was better to be thorough.

“Keep an eye on him for now.”

“Yes, understood.”

“Good work.”

With that concise praise, Hugh dismissed David and called the servant waiting outside back into the room.

Because David’s unannounced arrival had delayed things, the servant had to hurry.

Ten or so small diamonds and finely crafted platinum cufflinks fastened the stiff cuffs around Hugh’s wrists, and a black evening coat with a soft sheen was draped over his shoulders. Finally, the servant brushed the coat’s shoulders, sleeves, and back with a soft brush, making it look impeccable and elegant.

“All ready, sir.”

As Hugh turned after inspecting his appearance in the mirror, the servant respectfully offered white gloves. Taking and putting them on, Hugh left the dressing room.

Soon, the Everscourt family’s carriage carrying him departed the mansion, heading for the Roden Opera House in the glow of the burning red sunset.