It was a lovely September day when I stepped out of the barrister's office, and I was surprised to find Evangeline there. "Finally," she said, catching my arm. "I've been trying to think of a way to see you."

"Why? What's wrong?" I asked, concerned. "Are you well?"

"Wait until we get to the tea shop," she said. And then she began to tell me about a party she had attended the evening before with Alfred. She kept talking for the ten minutes it took us to walk to the tea shop we usually met at.

Then, when we were seated, she waited until fresh tea and pastries had been brought. "I thought you ought to see this before you go back to that wretched place you've called home," she said, bringing out a magazine.

Curious, I took it from her. The Strand was a popular one, I knew, though I had never read it myself. A page was turned down and I opened to it. It was a story entitled, A Case of Identity and was written by a Dr. John Watson, a name it took me several moments to recognize. "My goodness!"

"Take your time," Evangeline said, her eyes worried. "It is not an easy read."

I took a sip of my tea and settled my spectacles on my nose to read. It didn't take me long to recognize myself in the story. As I read Dr. Watson's telling of my visit to Baker Street, my own memories came flooding back. I'd forgotten he had been in the room, so eager had I been to put it before Mr. Holmes.

It was a faithful telling, though my naive words made humiliation wash over me. Ten years, at least? Why had I made such a statement? And now any person who picked up the magazine would know about my foolishness.

And then Dr. Watson's description of me having a general air of being fairly well-to-do in a vulgar, comfortable, easy-going way made me cringe. Would he say the same of me now that I had allowed myself to be guided by my friend's impeccable taste? I shook my head to get rid of the selfish thought.

"Did you see it?" Evangeline asked, her tone anxious.

"I'm still reading." How did the story end to make my friend so upset? Had Mr. Holmes solved the case and never been able to contact me?

To read Mr. Holmes' method of guessing my occupation and hurry that morning was enlightening. I had wondered how he had been so accurate when he had never met me before, but it was obvious now that I knew. Oh, to be so observant myself! How much heartache could I

I read of Mr. Holmes' interaction with my stepfather, feeling dread coiling in my stomach. "But between ourselves, Windibank, it was as cruel and selfish and heartless a trick in a petty way as ever came before me. Now, let me just run over the course of events, and you will contradict me if I go wrong."

"No," I breathed. "No, it can't be."

James Windibank, with the help of my own mother —as Mr. Holmes goes on to explain—, had disguised himself as Hosmer Angel, courted me to the point of engagement, and then disappeared in a manner to make a lasting impression on me. The fiend! How could he?

And I had been in ignorance of it all! Even worse, I had been so easily taken in!

"If I tell her she will not believe me. You may remember the old Persian saying, 'There is danger for him who taketh the tiger cub, and danger also for whoso snatches a delusion from a woman.' There is as much sense in Hafiz as in Horace, and as much knowledge of the world."

Shaking, I lowered the magazine. "I cannot believe it," I said faintly. I couldn't bring myself to meet her gaze. What must she think of such a shameful tale? "How could he? How could my mother do such a thing?"

"I am so sorry, Mary," Evangeline said, pushing a fresh cup of tea towards me. "I could hardly believe it myself when I read it this morning."

"My mother helped him." I curled my hands around my teacup, letting it warm my cold hands. "All this time and Mr. Holmes knew. He made no attempt to warn me I was in the power of...of..." I couldn't think of a word to describe my stepfather. "It has been two years!"

And yet...beneath my anger was shame. I had been devoted to Hosmer at the time. As Dr. Watson reported in the story, I had been determined to keep my word. If I had heard this at the time, would I have been willing to accept it?

"Mr. Holmes does have one redeeming action in all this," Evangeline said, reaching over to take the magazine. "He frightened your stepfather and threatened to horsewhip him for what he had done."

"And yet, he left me in the man's power without a word of warning." At least now, James forbidding me to contact Mr. Holmes made sense. He'd hoped to keep me from learning what he had done.

"It was a cruel thing to do," Evangeline said fiercely. Although I couldn't be sure whether she meant Mr. Holmes or my stepfather. She poked at the pastry she had mangled while waiting for me to finish reading. "What are you going to do now?"

I'd been so caught up in the humiliation of the story that I hadn't given a thought to what I should do. Ought I to just go back home as though nothing had happened? Where else could I go? Did I dare put myself back in the power of my stepfather? What would he do now that his cruel plot had been revealed?

And hadn't Mr. Holmes suspected James Windibank would move on to real crimes? Had that happened already?

"I-I don't know."

"If you need someplace to go, you are more than welcome to come home with me," Evangeline said softly. "It's not a permanent solution, I know, but it would give you time to think and consider what your next step will be."

Relieved, I nodded. "Thank you. That will be helpful."

"Do you want me to go with you to your mother's house so you can pack a bag?"

I checked the time. There were still a few hours before my stepfather would return home. And yet, I didn't want to take any chance. "If you wouldn't mind. I don't know how my mother will react to me leaving the house."

"Probably as well as my own mother would react if I made such a decision," Evangeline said, her tone sympathetic.

"Will your mother be upset that you did not give her any warning of company coming?"

She shrugged in an unladylike way. "When I explain, she'll understand. She is already fond of you."

My stomach churned and twisted, so I set my tea aside. "Well, I would like to get this over with as quickly as possible. Shall we go now?"

My friend nodded, paid for our tea, and then hurried me out of the tea shop. She hailed a hansom cab and then we made the journey to my mother's home in silence. The driver agreed to wait for us and then Evangeline followed me into the house.

"Oh, there you are, Mary," Mother said, coming from the parlor. Her lips turned down when she saw who was with me. "And Miss Carter is with you. Well. Mary didn't say you would be visiting today. I'm afraid I wasn't prepared for visitors."

"A pleasure, Mrs. Windibank," Evangeline said, nodding her head. "We won't be here long, I promise. Mary is just getting some things together and then you can go about your day as you please."

Alarm appeared on Mother's face. "What do you mean?"

"Evangeline, perhaps you would show my mother what you showed me while I pack," I said, gesturing at the magazine my friend still held. "I think that will explain everything best."

Nodding, Evangeline opened to the story and handed over the magazine. "I think you will find this particularly interesting, Mrs. Windibank. I found it to be a fascinating read, although you already know quite a bit about the matter."

I hurried upstairs. Once I was in my room, it was difficult to think. What would I need? How long would I be staying with my friend? Was there anything I absolutely could not leave behind? If I did forget something, would I be allowed back to get it or would I lose it forever?

Putting my hand on my wall, I tried to catch my breath. All of a sudden, I felt like I couldn't breathe, and my heart was racing beneath my corset. Tears pricked my eyes as I bent over. What was I going to do?

I took a deep breath and forced myself to straighten up. When I was at Evangeline's house, I would be able to think. My hands still shook as I selected a couple of outfits from my wardrobe.

Before I was able to pack, I had to ring for Sally to bring me a carpetbag from the attic. We didn't have many pieces of luggage, but this had been one James had used when he went to France. The maid found it with relative ease, while I waited impatiently in my room.

"Do you need help, miss?" she asked, standing back as I began to fold my clothing.

"Thank you, but no. That will be all." I was eager to be away, now that it was decided. Another pair of hands would only get in my way.

A half hour had passed before I was certain I was ready to go. Mother hadn't come up, so I imagined she was still reading the story. My bag in hand and what little cash I had in my reticule, I made my way down the stairs.

"No, don't you see? This is all a cruel fabrication," I heard Mother say from the parlor. "No one with any sense would believe a word of it. Once my husband is home, he will find this Dr. Watson and sue for slander."

"It cannot be considered slander if it is true, Mother," I said as I approached the doorway. "I'm ready, Evangeline. Thank you for being patient with me. I did not mean to take so long."

Swiftly, Evangeline jumped to her feet. "Of course. Good day, Mrs. Windibank. You may keep that copy of the magazine. I'm sure I can easily purchase another one."

"Mary? Where are you going?" Mother asked as she stood up. Her face was pale and her voice shaky. "What do you think you are doing?"

"I am going to spend some time with my friend," I said evenly. I allowed Evangeline to take my bag from me. "Dr. Watson's story has given me a great deal to think about. I will also be speaking to Mr. Douglas about how my allowance is handled from now on."

"You cannot leave! What will your father think?"

My limbs felt heavy and it took all of my energy to face my mother. "I honestly think my father—my real father—would be very proud of me for finally doing the sensible thing. Goodbye, Mother. I'm sure I will send you a message after a while."

To my horror, when I was going out the front door, James Windibank was strolling along the pavement. "Mary," he called out. "Where are you going at this time of day?"

Why was he returning already? Had he been warned of the story? He didn't seem panicked or upset. Had he simply decided to come home early?

"Mary is coming to stay with me for a time, Mr. Windibank," Evangeline said from the hansom cab. She had already put my bag in the hansom cab. "I'm sure your wife is eager to explain the situation."

"Situation?" James repeated. His entire body tensed. "Mary, I haven't given you permission to leave the house."

"I do not have to ask permission," I said. I didn't want to argue but I was tired of having him control me and question everything I did. Even more so now that I knew what he had done! "I am an adult, James, and I have made a decision."

He reached out swiftly and caught my wrist. "I think you're forgetting your place in this family."

"And I think you've overestimated your influence on me, Hosmer."

With a start, he stepped back, his eyes widening. "What did you say?"

"I think you should speak to your wife, Mr. Windibank," Evangeline said, stepping between me and him. "Your actions two years ago have been revealed to the world. Good day, sir!"

Evangeline took my arm and turned me to the waiting hansom cab. The driver was looking far too interested in our conversation, which was embarrassing, to say the least. I climbed in quickly, eager to be away.

"Mary!" James exclaimed. "Mary, you will get out right now and come inside."

My friend slammed the door closed. "Drive on," she ordered.

To my great relief, James didn't chase after us. "Well, that was unpleasant," Evangeline said as she settled back. "But now you are safely away. You shan't be bothered by them again."

"Somehow, I don't think it's as simple as that."