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“A gentleman was disturbing her. She said only that things had changed between them, and she didn’t know how to stop it.”

“Was he harming her? Physically?”

Her eyes widened. “Good God, I hope not.” She shook her head. “She made it seem more as if some boundary had been crossed, as if he had behaved inappropriately.”

Miss Longfellow clapped a hand to her mouth. “Heavens, what if he had harmed her? Forced her…” Her other hand came up to clutch her stomach, and her breathing was so heavy and quick that it was audible between them.

Electra reached out a bare hand and laid it gently on the lady’s knee. “Breathe slowly, Miss Longfellow.”

Gideon hadn’t noticed the moment when she removed her gloves, but he wondered if she was sensing something, seeing images of the lady’s memories. Perhaps images that revealed more than she was willing to speak of aloud.

The young woman fixed her gaze on Electra, who drew in deep breaths and let them out as if encouraging Miss Longfellow to do the same. And she did, mimicking Electra, until her chest stopped heaving and she seemed to have regained some equanimity.

“Stop is the word she used,” she said quietly. “She wanted his attentions to stop and yet she did not know how to dissuade him. And she said she felt guilt but didn’t explain why.”

“When did this happen? Did she provide any details?”

“No. And I asked. I swear I asked.” She crossed her arms and chafed her palms against her own arms as if she suddenly felt chilled, though the air inside the conservatory was almost balmy.

“I even asked if it was a gentleman at the museum because I thought she could go to some higher authority there, but she merely shook her head and refused to say more.” She looked at them both. “I beseeched her to tell me. I have an elder brother who has always been protective of me. I even offered to have him speak to this man on her behalf. That seemed to shock her. So much so that she said she regretted saying anything at all.”

She bit her lip again, and tears welled in her eyes. “I fear I was a bit chilly after that. I only wished to help her, and yet she refused to allow me to. I didn’t understand. I still don’t.”

Gideon pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to Miss Longfellow.

She took it with a murmured thanks and dabbed at her eyes.

“Miss Poole and I have come from speaking with the family, and they mentioned a young man by the name of Abraham Seaton.”

Miss Longfellow perked up at mention of the banker. “Oh, yes, Bram. Iris spoke of him fondly.”

Electra cleared her throat. “Yet the family told us that Iris did not return Mr. Seaton’s affections. Could he be the man Iris was talking about, who had crossed some boundary?”

Miss Longfellow frowned at that. “No, I don’t believe so. She mentioned Mr. Seaton on and off, but always in a familiar, fond way. She did say early on that he would marry her if she let him. Yet my impression was that he was respectful, long-suffering, and would let her lead in that regard.”

“Might she have been attempting to protect Mr. Seaton by obscuring his name when discussing this man who troubled her?”

Miss Longfellow looked momentarily perplexed, then shook her head. “I suppose it is possible, but I see it as highly unlikely. I believe she even mentioned Mr. Seaton by name in that same conversation. They’d attended a play together recently, and she only spoke of it as a pleasant experience.”

“When did you first meet Iris?” Since it seemed she knew no firm details about the troublesome man, Gideon thought it useful to determine how well she knew Iris Delacourt.

“We met several years ago on a seaside holiday. Each of our families had decided to go to the coast for a respite. My father was ill, as was her mother, so we understood each other in that regard. The worry, the need to care for an ailing parent.”

“How long ago was that?” Gideon asked.

“Three years ago. We were both collecting shells and quite literally bumped into each other and then became fast friends. Iris is very easy to talk to.” She looked momentarily abashed. “Perhaps because she is a wonderful listener and I’m a bit of a rambler.”

“It seems a most obvious question,” Gideon began, “and I know that you would have said as much if you knew, but can you think of any place she might have gone?”

“I have been thinking of little else, to be honest.” She’d clutched the fabric of her smock in her hands until her knuckles whitened. “As I said, Mr. Delacourt sent that letter asking if I had any inkling of where she might be, but I don’t.”

Her eyes had taken on a stark kind of pleading look. A desperation that Gideon had seen time and again in the eyes of those who’d lost a loved one.

“The last time we saw each other, she spoke mostly of Miss Collier’s disappearance. Only momentarily of the gentleman she would not name, and then returned to the topic of Miss Collier. And now Iris has vanished too.” A tear slid down her cheek, and she patted it away with Gideon’s kerchief. “It’s unthinkable.”

“What did she say about Miss Collier’s disappearance?” Electra asked as if she had intuited the next question poised on Gideon’s tongue.

“She said she felt helpless and had gone to Miss Collier’s lodgings. Hoping to search her room, I believe. But of course, the landlady would not allow her admittance.”