by Blythe Baker
“Edward,” Lady Ashton scolded, trying to pretend as though she had any control of her children. “That is hardly an appropriate topic.”
“Is that true?” I asked, looking from the flushed face of my aunt to the stony face of my uncle.
I knew confirming my identity had been a point of concern. It had taken the hospital a few days to find someone who knew my family well enough to come and identify me, which was how the Worthings had been brought into the situation. They made the crucial mistake after seeing my blonde hair and clothes of deciding that I was Rose. They did not know that Rose had insisted I wear her clothes that morning. After years of me dressing her, she thought she should be allowed to dress me. She permitted me to wear one of her old chiffon dresses that had a snag in the back and a pair of black oxfords with a large scuff on the shoe.
“With my clothes on, you look like a proper lady,” she’d remarked, standing back to admire her handy work.
I’d asked immediately whether I could put my own clothes back on, but Rose refused. I spent the morning feeling like a little girl playing dress up, wishing for my well-worn day dress, but I was now aware how important that series of events was in regards to my future.
I had not realized, however, that the Beckinghams ever believed me to be dead.
Lady Ashton nodded solemnly. “It was difficult to find anyone with intimate knowledge of the situation, especially in the chaotic aftermath of the attack. It took time for them to sort through the…remains of the accident, and with your injury, it made an identification difficult.”
I let my hand float absentmindedly to my cheek, feeling the indentation there that would never fade.
“Yes,” Edward said, drawing my attention back towards him. “We were told there had been no survivors, and after a respectable amount of mourning, we contacted our family solicitor about the matter of your inheritance.”
A respectable amount? How long could that have been if they had only believed me to be dead for a couple of days? Had they cried for a few hours before turning their energy towards the thought of the fortune they would inherit?
“Of course, then we learned of your survival,” Edward said, tipping his head forward, looking up at me from beneath his heavy brow. “And oh, the relief we all felt.”
His words seemed kind, but I sensed a darkness in his tone. Was it sarcasm? Had Edward really wanted to say that he wished me dead?
“I’m so sorry to have put you all through so much stress. I had no idea of your troubles,” I said, barely masking my anger.
I had been lying in a hospital bed, fighting for my life after surviving an attack that killed my entire family, yet Edward was concerned about the money he could have seen had I died.
Or, rather, the money he could have seen had I stayed Nellie Dennet. Had I not assumed Rose’s identity and stolen what lawfully would have been given to him. If Edward thought Rose surviving the accident was bad luck, how upset would he have been to learn Rose had died, but I’d cheated the system? A servant girl stood between him and the fortune he wanted so badly. A fortune he surely could not need anyway, given the grandness of the surroundings he already enjoyed.
“The day we learned you survived was a joyous day,” Lady Ashton said. “Please, Rose, do not think any differently. Your survival lightened our despair in ways we will never be able to describe.”
Alice reached out and wrapped her hand around my wrist. “You are better than a fortune,” she whispered.
I turned my hand over and squeezed her fingers. “Thank you, Alice.”
Lord Ashton chose not to chime in with any reassurances for me or to correct the rude behavior of his older children. Instead, he simply slid his chair away from the table, dropped his napkin in the center of his empty plate, and looked over at me. “We are happy to have you in our home, Rose. Tomorrow I will take you to the family solicitor to discuss the claiming of your inheritance.”
I opened my mouth to thank him, but I was interrupted by the arrival of a butler. He wore a black suit with long coat tails and a crisp white collar. I didn’t remember seeing him when I’d arrived earlier in the day, which begged the question of how many servants the Beckinghams had in their employment. However, this question faded to the back of my mind when I noted the nervous, roving eyes of the butler.
“Excuse me, Lord Ashton, but there is a police sergeant at the door,” he said. His voice was high and nasally, but he spoke in an even, measured manner.
I glanced around the table and surmised the police were not regular visitors to the Beckingham home. Lady Ashton’s brows were pinned together in concern and confusion. She looked up to her husband for an answer, and he looked down at her, shrugging his shoulders.
“Did he say why he was here?” he asked.
The butler shook his head and then turned his attention to me. As he did, the rest of the family followed suit until every set of eyes in the room was on me. I flushed.
“He would like to speak to Miss Rose,” the butler said, tipping his head towards me.
“Is this about the accident?” Lady Ashton asked, as if I should know.
“We will just go out there and discern what is going on,” Lord Ashton said. “There’s no sense sitting in here and wondering.”
He walked around the table towards me and helped me scoot my chair away from the table. I stood, smoothed the wrinkles of my dress, and moved towards the door that led to the entrance hall.
“Actually,” the butler said, blocking our path. “I believe the sergeant is here in connection with a recent murder.”
6
Murder? My heart skipped at the word. Another murder? After the attack in Simla that had thrown my entire life into flux and the murder of Ruby Stratton on the ship from India to London, I’d assumed I had endured my fair share of murder. Was I really finding myself in the middle of another one?
“Murder?” Lady Ashton came up behind me, placing her hand on my shoulder. “Why would Rose have anything to do with a murder?”
The butler looked from Lady Ashton to Lord Ashton, his expression uncertain.
“We won’t know that until we speak with the sergeant,” Lord Ashton said, sounding more urgent.
“We could always ask Rose,” Edward said, coming around the room until he blocked my path into the sitting room. “Who has been murdered, Rose?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I haven’t the slightest idea.”
“A murder is a pretty large thing to forget. You don’t know anyone who has been murdered recently?” Edwards asked, mocking me.
He had been trying to make me look silly, but his question actually made me realize something important. “A murder occurred on the ship,” I said.
Alice gasped. “Why didn’t you mention that straight away?”
She was looking at me as though I’d betrayed her.
“It wasn’t something I necessarily wanted to remember, and I thought the ship and local authorities were taking care of it. I spoke to several officers onboard the ship. Perhaps, they need another statement, though?”
Yes. Obviously. This had to do with Ruby Stratton. There was no other explanation.
“I’m sure that is it,” Lady Ashton said.
“We won’t know for sure until we get in there.” Lord Ashton pushed open the door and held his hand out, directing me inside. “We shouldn’t keep him waiting any longer.”
We walked into the sitting room where a sergeant sat stiffly on a maroon tufted sofa. He stood as we entered.
“Good evening, Lord Ashton. Miss,” he said, tipping his hat to me.
“We understand your visit is in connection with a murder?” Lord Ashton asked.
The sergeant, a mousy man with light brown hair and a round face frowned. “I’m afraid so. I hope I didn’t interrupt your dinner, but we have reason to believe Miss Rose Beckingham may have been a witness to a murder.”
“A witness?” I shook my head. “No, I didn’t see when Ruby was murdered, but the killer did confess his crimes to
me just before he attempted to kill me as well.”
Confusion washed over the sergeant’s face as he looked at me, mouth slightly agape. “I’m sorry, Miss. I’m not entirely sure what you are referring to.”
“I’m talking about the murder of Ruby Stratton,” I said.
The officer pulled out a sheet of paper and scanned it before shaking his head. “No, I’m sorry. I’m not here to discuss any Ruby Stratton. I’m here to discuss the murder of Frederick Grossmith this morning.”
Lord Ashton turned to me. His broad face was darkened with suspicion. I could only imagine what he was thinking. I hadn’t even been in his house one entire day and already the police were knocking on his door with talk of murder. It wasn’t exactly the impression I had hoped to make.
“I don’t know any Frederick Grossmith,” I said. “There must be some mistake.”
“You are Rose Beckingham, correct?” the sergeant asked.
I nodded. “Yes, I am.”
“Did you or did you not leave your name and address with an officer near the docks this morning?”
“I did, but it was in connection with a necklace I lost,” I said, trying to clarify.
“You also reported two men fighting in an alley.”
My protests stilled in my throat. Of course. Yes. I had seen the two men fighting this morning. Mr. Worthing had sent an officer to investigate my claim.
The sergeant must have taken my silence as confirmation because he didn’t wait for my response. “Frederick Grossmith was one of the men involved in that fight. When the officer arrived, Frederick was dead.”
“Dead?” I repeated, trying to understand how that could have happened.
“Murdered,” the sergeant corrected. “With a bullet that entered through his back and struck the heart.”
I gasped. My vision felt blurry around the edges. He had been shot? But I’d been standing in the alley behind them. Although the fight had scared me, I had suspected the worst that would happen was they would throw a few punches and bloody one another up a bit. I never would have thought something so violent would occur.
“Here, Rose,” Lord Ashton said, wrapping his hand around my upper arm and leading me to the sofa. “Sit down.”
“Thank you, uncle.” I let him lead me across the room, feeling suddenly faint and no longer trusting my own legs.
“I’m sorry to shock you like this, Miss, but you may very well be our only witness,” the sergeant said.
“Of course, I understand,” I said, practically whispering. “But I don’t know how much I can tell you. I didn’t see much and I left before the situation escalated.”
“You said there were two men, correct? Did you get a good look at either of them?”
I squinted, trying to see back in my memory and pull every detail I could remember. “One of the men was quite a bit shorter than the other. He had dark hair and a square face. Of the two, he was definitely the most aggressive.”
The sergeant wrote this down. “That sounds like Grossmith’s description.”
“Grossmith? The victim?” I asked.
He nodded. “What about the man he was arguing with?”
“He was in the shadows. I only saw that he was taller than Grossmith,” I said.
The sergeant looked at me, eyes wide and pleading. “Do you remember anything else?”
I scraped my mind for anything more worth mentioning, but there was nothing. “No, I’m sorry. That is all I remember.”
He pulled his lips to the side of his mouth, disappointment clear on his face. “Did you hear what they were arguing about?”
I’d heard a few words here and there, but I’d been so concerned about being caught by either man that my attention had been scattered, at best. I’d been so busy trying to get away that my brain hadn’t bothered to catalog the content of the conversation. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t remember anything.”
“Nothing?” he pressed. “Not a single word? Grossmith was a bartender at a nearby jazz club, The Chesney Ballroom. Could the argument have had anything to do with that?”
“I’m sorry, Sergeant. I wish I could be of more help, but I didn’t hear anything,” I said. This was true. I wished I had more information to offer up. I didn’t want a murderer roaming the streets, and if I had anything useful I would have gladly told him.
The sergeant, however, didn’t seem to trust me. He narrowed his eyes and asked again. “You can’t remember a single word from their conversation?”
“If my niece says she cannot remember, then she should be taken at her word,” Lord Ashton said, his tone defensive and commanding. He wasn’t speaking to me, and even I found myself sitting up a little straighter.
The sergeant made a note on the paper he’d brought and then stood up. “Well, I suppose that is all the questions I have for you, then, Miss Beckingham. Please let me know if you remember anything, and I will come by if I have any more questions.”
“I did lose a locket necklace,” I said. “It was the reason I spoke to the officer at the docks at all. I am hoping to have it returned to me. I believe I lost it near the scene of the…murder.”
The officer looked at me, his expression letting me know he didn’t care at all about my missing necklace. However, he still pulled out the folder he’d brought with him and checked it.
“I don’t see any mention here of a necklace found at the scene of the crime, but I will be sure to keep an eye out for it,” he said.
“Thank you, Sergeant.”
He tipped his hat to me once again, nodded to Lord Ashton, and then wordlessly moved into the entrance hall and out the front door.
As soon as the front door shut, the door leading into the dining room blasted open and Alice shot through it, closely followed by Lady Ashton, Catherine, and Edward, who took up the rear with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his eyes unreadable.
“You witnessed another murder?” Alice asked, saying it as though it were something to be proud of.
“No, I was simply near the site of a murder this morning. But so were hundreds of other people coming from the ship. I just so happened to be the person unlucky enough to see the victim before his death.”
“How did he die?” she whispered, though her eyes were wide and eager.
“It’s time to ready for bed, Alice,” Lady Ashton said, patting her youngest daughter on the head.
“I’m not even tired,” Alice protested. However, one look from her father was enough for her to press her lips tightly together and stomp up the stairs to her bedroom.
“It was nothing,” Lord Ashton told the remaining members of his family. “As Rose said, she didn’t see anything of import.”
Lord Ashton relayed the brief interview to his wife and two eldest children while I stayed seated, trying to wrap my mind around what exactly had happened. How many police officers had I spoken to in the last five weeks? The number was surely nearing twenty.
After the attack in Simla, I had been interviewed by officers trying to find the local extremist who threw the bomb and officers who were tasked with keeping me safe until I could board the ship. Then, once I helped solve Ruby Stratton’s murder, I had spoken with officers connected with the ship company and local authorities, relaying everything Dr. Rushforth had confessed and describing in detail the steps I’d taken to solve the crime before the authorities could. And now, on my first day in London, an officer had arrived during dinner to question me about yet another murder. How could one person have a front row seat to so much death and violence?
Sometime during my thoughts, Lord Ashton, Catherine, and Edward must have gone up to their rooms, because I was alone with Lady Ashton.
“Rose, dear, are you all right?” she asked, sinking down onto the seat next to me and placing her hand on my knee.
I nodded and smiled, though the effort alone made me feel weary. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m just tired from all the travel.”
“I’m sure you are. I already asked Hannah to turn down your bed,
so it should be ready for you.”
“Thank you so much,” I said. I reached out and took her hand in both of mine. “For everything. I’m so appreciative of your openness and warmth, for taking me in.”
Her smile was light and airy, as if she hadn’t a care in the world. It overtook her thin face in the most beautiful way. “What is family for if not to help us through our troubles?”
The fact that I was not actually Lady Ashton’s family sat at the tip of my tongue, but I bit it back. We walked together upstairs, Lady Ashton keeping her arm looped through mine until we separated at the second-floor landing. She went left towards her room and I took a right.
As soon as I was alone again, my mind began trying to untangle important pieces of information from the fight I’d witnessed that morning—a distinctive article of clothing or a possible accent. Anything that would help me to assist the police in the investigation. But then, I thought about everything else I had to do. I had a meeting with the family solicitor in the morning to claim my inheritance and I needed to pay a visit to Achilles Prideaux. I had a mystery of my own to solve, and I did not have time to be solving anyone else’s. From the little I’d seen of the murder victim, he didn’t seem like a particularly kind man. Perhaps he deserved his death. And whether he did or did not deserve it, I didn’t have any spare time to play amateur detective. It had been a fun pastime while aboard the RMS Star of India, where I could roam the deck and imagine myself a heroine from a novel, but other things took precedence now that I was back on land. I had to remain focused on my goal.
“You were wrong before.”
I jolted at the voice, my hands coming to my heart in surprise. I hadn’t seen anyone else in the hallway, and I understood that had been the intention when Edward stepped forward from the shadows. He wanted to startle me.
I composed myself as quickly as possible and squared off with him, facing him head on. “When are you referring to?” I asked at full volume. Edward wanted to hide and whisper, but I would take no part in it.
“When you first arrived, I mentioned how different you looked,” Edward said, stepping closer to me. The hallway lights were dimmed, but light spilled up the stairs from the floor below, casting Edward in a ghostly glow. “You said it was probably because we had not seen one another in ten years.”
