by Blythe Baker
A Sudden Passing
Blythe Baker
Copyright © 2019 by Blythe Baker
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
Description
Newsletter Invitation
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
About the Author
A sinister plot unveiled...
Rose Beckingham’s pursuit of an international assassin leads her to New York City, where she reunites with her cousins from London. But danger follows Rose across the Atlantic and it’s not long before she must confront shadows from her past.
As she races against time to save a life, will the arrival of a familiar face hinder her investigation or offer a vital clue?
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1
When Catherine’s letter arrived from New York, I expected it to be in response to my letter. The one I had sent only weeks before, detailing that her aunt and uncle had been killed in a bombing that, far from being an accident, had actually been a planned assassination on Mr. Beckingham with no mercy shown to his family or servants. It had been difficult news to deliver—and news that had been difficultly fought for—but she and the rest of her family deserved to know the true fate of their loved ones.
“A letter for you, Miss Rose,” Jalini said, her dark skin glowing from time spent outdoors in the summer heat. She handed me the envelope and studied my face as I read it. “Is it the letter you’ve been expecting?”
“Is it obvious I’ve been expecting something?” I asked.
“You have met me in the entrance hall each of the last three afternoons, so I only assumed you were waiting for something,” she said. “Is it in regards to Mr. Barlow?”
“Do not call him that,” I snapped, somewhat unfairly, before taking a breath and continuing in a calmer manner. “I do not know his true identity, but that name did not belong to him.”
I’d done my best not to dwell on Mr. Barlow in the weeks since our encounter. He was responsible for so much of the chaos of my previous year, and I did not want to allow him another second of my time. Especially when my time could be much better spent trying to uncover the identity of Mr. Barlow’s boss, The American. The mysterious man who had named Mr. Beckingham as a target to begin with. I had managed to dispose of Mr. Barlow, so in addition to being an unsavory thought, he was also a wasted one.
Jalini bowed her head in apology. “Forgive me.”
“No, forgive me,” I sighed, tucking the letter from my cousin against my chest. “You were instrumental in leading me to Mr. Barlow as the killer, so you should feel free to refer to him as you’d like. I suppose I am still sensitive to mention of him.”
“And you, Miss Rose, were instrumental in ensuring Mr. Barlow caused no one in this home any harm, so I will not say anything about him that would upset you,” she said, backing away towards the servant’s hallway.
I smiled in thanks as she left, and then raced up the stairs before I could be stopped again.
Mr. and Mrs. Hutchins had rebounded remarkably well after the discovery that Mr. Hutchins’ personal assistant was an international assassin sent to murder him. I’d expected the discovery to have some kind of marked change on their behavior. Perhaps, Mrs. Hutchins would discover a new zest for life and leave the library more than for meal times. Maybe Mr. Hutchins would speak with his peers in the government and forge connections that would see him spending less time with his mother. But neither happened. Mrs. Hutchins spent more time than ever in the library, aggressively waving a folded fan in front of her to combat the “oppressive” heat, and Mr. Hutchins distracted himself by interviewing a long string of personal secretaries who all marched through the house at all hours of the day and night.
Mrs. Hutchins found the parade of potential employees to be inconvenient, and Mr. Hutchins found his mother’s nagging to be excessive. And both of them believed me to be the greatest listener they knew. Mrs. Hutchins cornered me whenever possible to rage against her son’s disrespectful behavior, and even Mr. Hutchins, who had never much cared for me, took to complaining about his mother whenever we found ourselves alone. I suspected Mr. Barlow had been his listening ear prior to his death and the reveal that he had been betraying the Hutchinses for the entire duration of his employment.
As I walked down the hallway to my room, I could hear Mrs. Hutchins instructing a servant to open the library window, and I darted past the open door before she could see me. As soon as I made it to my room, I closed the door quietly, walked to my desk, and slid Catherine’s note out of the envelope. It was neatly written in a tight, curling script.
Dearest Rose,
Alice and I swore we would never forgive you after you promised to accompany us to New York, but instead travelled to India with a man, but you’ll be happy to know we have both forgiven you. I admit, my anger lasted longer than Alice’s. She heard a detailed description of the man you left with, and she understood your motivations at once. It seems you have confided in her more than in me. She asks that I send her regards to this Monsieur Prideaux, so do see that he receives those. My forgiveness came more slowly. It will shock you to hear me say so, but I have not always been a compassionate woman, nor one of understanding. Because I wanted to go to New York, I could not understand why the same would not be true of you. However, I have met someone since coming to the city who has helped me to see otherwise. While listening to my frustrations towards my cousin, he placed himself in your shoes and wondered whether the trauma of your past required a grand adventure to move on. He suspected settling down amongst family would allow too much time for contemplation, and I forgave you at once. For being in New York has given me far too much time to think. About you and your parents, about my previous relationships, and of Edward. I have spent hours looking over my sins and mistakes, wondering where I could have done something differently to change the outcomes. I can now see why you might not have wanted to devote the same amount of time to your thoughts. The man you can send your thanks to for my improvement is Charles Cresswell.
I would ask if you know of him, but he assures me you two have never met. He is a British diplomat working at the embassy in New York, and our meeting was both chance and fate—Alice is insisting I cut the story of our meeting short because she has heard it too many times and wants to know the ending of this letter before she must leave for a meeting of her friends. As you can see, she is just as incorrigible and silly as ever. To keep it brief, Charles Cresswell and I are engaged. He has always been a good man, and I wish for you to come meet him at once in order to make your own determination on the matter.
There are many reasons you could give to not make the trip. It is costly and time-consuming, quite uncomfortable no matter how nice the ship, and you have done a great deal of travelling in the last year. However, your presence here is vital to my happiness. It is the only reason I have for begging you to come, and I pray it will be enough to convi
nce you.
I await your response and arrival eagerly.
Love,
Catherine
No mention of Mr. Barlow. No mention of my near-death experience. Of the deaths of the Beckinghams at the hands of a madman. Clearly, Catherine was distracted by other matters.
Going back to New York City was something I had come to dread for many reasons, most of them revolving around my disguise as Rose Beckingham. New York City had been the home of Nellie Dennet, a woman who was now gone, assumed dead in the Simla bombing, but who shared my face nonetheless. Going back to New York risked my cover. If I ran into someone I knew from my old life, it could unravel the tapestry of lies I’d so carefully woven. Not to mention, New York City was where I had lost my real family. It was where my real parents were murdered, where my brother was suspected of the crime and had abandoned me to run. It was where what little innocence that remained of my childhood was stripped away, leaving me destitute on the streets. New York City was where the events that would lead me to the Beckinghams, to the bombing, and to a life of impersonating my dead friend would begin. Was I truly ready to go back there?
All of that aside, another question plagued me. Why did my cousin wish for my company? Catherine and I had never been particularly close, and now that she was set to be married, she would have little need for my company. I would have imagined her too infatuated with her soon-to-be husband to care about her missing cousin. And yet, she wrote to ask me, nay, beg me to come to New York. Why?
Your presence here is vital to my happiness.
I read the letter again and could not decide whether my own proclivity for mysteries made the words seem more ominous than they were intended or whether the words were pointing towards trouble in the union.
He has always been a good man, and I wish for you to come meet him at once in order to make your own determination on the matter.
If my cousin did need my help, could I refuse? Or what if I crossed an ocean only to discover I had read trouble into what was nothing more than a wedding announcement? There was always the option to write back and ask outright, but if Catherine had chosen discretion in this letter, I had no reason to believe she would wish to be more forthcoming in another. Besides, what was in Simla for me now?
Mrs. Hutchins and her son had accepted me into their home and lives, but I could not live on their kindness forever. My uncle had arranged for my inheritance to be made available to me in monthly installments, so I had the means to buy a place in Simla, but was that what I wanted? And if I did not want to live in Simla, then where? Monsieur Achilles and I had been in Morocco for a few weeks, and while I’d enjoyed the time there, it had hardly been home, either. London was an option, but with the knowledge that my dear cousins were not living there, the prospect seemed cold indeed. Really, my reasonings aside, New York seemed the most likely place for me to settle.
If for no other reason than that scarcely anyone there would know me as Rose Beckingham, and Nellie Dennet had hardly been notable enough for anyone aside from those closest to me in my old life to recognize me. I could become an unknown and start over should I wish.
I leaned back in the desk chair and stared through the window at the trees lining the path that wrapped around the Hutchins’ rented property. I’d taken a walk there that very morning to enjoy the fresh air and contemplate what my day would hold, and I never would have imagined it would hold such a momentous decision. For I felt quite confident I knew what I needed to do.
Standing up from the desk, I tucked the letter in the drawer and then turned for the door. I needed to inform Mrs. Hutchins at once.
In the time it took me to read Catherine’s letter and come to my decision, Mrs. Hutchins had left the library for what seemed the first time in days and gone downstairs. Mr. Hutchins’ office door was ajar as I passed it, as well, leading me to believe he would be with his mother. Good, I thought. Better to deliver the news at once. It would save me time.
As I walked down the front stairs and stepped into the entrance hall, however, I heard a third voice coming from the sitting room. A male voice.
“Do not apologize for an unplanned visit,” Mrs. Hutchins said, her voice high-pitched in the way it always was when she was speaking to guests. “This house has become as much yours as ours in the past weeks.”
“My mother speaks true,” Mr. Hutchins said. “You are welcome here anytime, Lieutenant.”
“You both are too kind,” the third voice said. The voice I now recognized.
I froze in the hallway. Lieutenant Collins was in the sitting room, and suddenly I wanted to sneak back upstairs.
Graham and I had grown close over my short time back in Simla. He had accompanied me on several outings, assisted me in uncovering important information, and had been present for the final part of my fight with Mr. Barlow. And despite me once believing him to be one of the assassins hired by the American, I now understood his remaining close to me stemmed from affection rather than violent intent.
And it was for that very reason I wanted to hide. Mrs. Hutchins would be upset at the news of my departure from India, but Graham would likely be devastated.
“Let me send a servant to fetch Miss Beckingham for you, Lieutenant,” Mrs. Hutchins said, clearing her throat to call out for Jalini or any nearby servant.
“Please, Mrs. Hutchins, you may call me Graham,” he said. “And I do not wish to disturb Miss Beckingham if she is busy.”
“Surely she was the purpose of your visit, was she not?” Arthur Hutchins asked.
“Arthur,” hissed his mother. “Do not embarrass the man. And Graham, I know Rose is as smitten with you as we are. She would hate to know you were here and she missed your company. I’ll send for her.”
There would be no avoiding the meeting unless I ran out the front door, but even then, there was a chance they would see me from the window. So, I walked through the sitting room door. “No need to send for me. I am here.”
The others in the room turned, and I wanted to flush at the color in Graham’s cheeks, the light in his eyes at the sight of me.
“I heard you talking from the stairs,” I said, perching on the cushion furthest from where Graham sat near the fireplace. “To what do we owe the visit, Lieutenant?”
“Graham,” he corrected softly. “And I was simply in the area and thought I would enjoy your company. I hope I’m not intruding.”
The Hutchins’ bungalow was nowhere near Graham’s quarters or anyplace of interest, but I did not point this out and discredit his version of events.
“Of course not,” Mrs. Hutchins said, once again reassuring him. “Nothing of note has happened here, so we are glad for your company.”
“Actually,” Mr. Hutchins added, “I was in the middle of a letter, and while I don’t wish to be rude, I think it would be wise for me to finish it while the thought is fresh.”
“Arthur,” Mrs. Hutchins chastised again, aghast.
“He is not here to see the likes of me,” he said. “Or you, for that matter. You should leave the young people alone to discuss things.”
Graham looked down at his hands folded in his lap, his cheeks a burning red. My own felt quite hot, but I interrupted Mr. Hutchins in the middle of rising from his spot in the armchair.
“Actually, I wish to speak to all of you,” I said, deciding not to delay the announcement. It would be best to tell Graham in front of Mr. and Mrs. Hutchins so he could not argue with me about the decision. My mind would not be changed no matter what he said, so it would be best to avoid it altogether.
Mr. Hutchins sank down in his chair, annoyed, but Mrs. Hutchins and Graham sat up, alert.
“What is it, dear?” Mrs. Hutchins asked.
“She is going to tell us,” Arthur sighed.
Mrs. Hutchins shot her son a dirty look, and then gave me an encouraging smile.
I avoided Graham’s eyes and began. “I am so grateful to the two of you for offering me a place to stay and welcoming me into your family. It w
ill be very difficult to ever pay you back for the kindness you have bestowed.”
“It was our pleasure, dear,” Mrs. Hutchins said. “Besides, without you, we may have never learned the true motivations of the vile Mr. Barlow. Our meeting was destined, and whatever debt you feel you owe has been paid in full, I assure you.”
“You are too kind.” I tipped my head to her, and she beamed with pride. “And that is precisely the reason it is so hard to announce that I will be leaving your company and Simla.”
In the corner of my vision, Graham went rigid. Arthur remained unfazed but Mrs. Hutchins gasped. “Oh dear, that is dreadful news. Are you leaving under happy circumstances?”
With Catherine’s letter still a mystery to me, I wasn’t entirely certain what I would find upon arriving in New York. But no one needed to know that, anyway. “Yes, in fact. My cousin Catherine has become engaged and wishes for me to come to New York to assist with the wedding preparations.”
“Your cousin?” Mrs. Hutchins asked. “Well, if she’s as pretty as you are, it was only a matter of time before she settled down. Is he a good man?”
“That is what I hope to find out,” I said. “Catherine wants me to meet her beloved, and I have to admit, though this time with you all has been lovely, I do miss my family.”
“Of course, you do,” she said. “When do you leave?”
“As soon as possible. I will leave for Bombay once my things are packed and transport can be arranged, and then I will board the next ship for America.”
