Judging by the fact Lilly continued to parade about in her undergarments, Ava suspected Valentine was being polite. There was every chance Lilly worked the streets.
“I’m an actress, a dancer, anything the manager wants me to be,” Lilly replied.
“You said Cassiel was not his name,” Ava said. She hoped his real name might provide a clue as to his connection with Mr Fairfax.
“George Black is his name. Black of name, black of heart. That’s what I said to him when he left without so much as a by your leave.”
George Black?
Ava scoured her mind, trying to recall a connection to her father, to anyone who worked for him.
“Has he always been a mystic?” Valentine enquired. He came to stand before a wooden chest in the far corner of the room. For some strange reason, he inhaled deeply. “Does this belong to Mr Black?”
“I’ve only known him this last month.” Perhaps embarrassment forced her to add, “When the rent’s shared it leaves more to spend on coal.” Lilly crossed the room to stand beside Valentine. “There’s nothing in there but his silly costume. He said black made him look more devilish.”
“May I look inside?” Valentine asked.
Having paid twenty pounds for the privilege, Ava would insist upon it.
Lilly knelt down and raised the lid. “I’ll take his clothes to the pawnbroker.” She pushed the black garments to one side and delved deeper into the chest. “Mr Burton downstairs might buy the wig, whiskers and eyebrows.”
“The wig?” Drake stepped closer to the chest.
Ava froze. She did not want to examine the rogue’s belongings. But what if she missed a vital clue?
“George liked to dress for the role. Why he wore those disgusting things on his face is no one’s guess.” Lilly pulled the bushy black brows out of the chest. “Mouse skin, that’s what they’re made from.”
A sense of trepidation caught hold of Ava and held her in its firm grasp. “What colour is Mr Black’s hair?” she said as Lilly pulled out the black wig that brought images of the mystic flashing back into her mind.
“Brown.”
“He wore these shoes, too.” Lilly handed them to Valentine.
He stud
ied them for a moment, turned them over in his hand. “Is there a reason for these wooden blocks?” Valentine removed a small wedge and handed it to Mr Drake.
“Men use them to make themselves appear taller,” Drake said, examining the item. “Though I have no need of them myself.”
Valentine placed the shoes back in the chest. He drew his hand down his face and sighed.
The tension in the room grew with each new revelation. Every piece of the disguise stripped from Cassiel, left a clearer image of a man who seemed just as familiar.
Valentine reached into the chest and dragged out the bright red cravat. He brought it to his nose and inhaled. “This smells like a mixture of animal fat and some medicinal ointment.”
Ava wanted to move closer, to be of assistance, but her feet remained rooted to the spot.
“George used that to cover his scar. The ointment helped stop the irritation. He had a soft wax for his face and then patted it with powder. Gave him skin as pale as a ghost.”
“His scar?” Ava’s voice was barely a croak.
Lilly nodded. “Oh, he had many, from the mining accident abroad.”
A heavy, suffocating silence descended.
The room tilted and swayed before Ava’s eyes.
Lord, no!