by Blythe Baker
“No,” both men said at the same time, turning to one another and smiling when they realized. Edward continued speaking. “I met Charles during the Peace Conference in Paris at the end of the war.”
Graham sat up taller. “You were both at the Conference?”
Edward nodded, but Charles took a long drink of his water.
“You never told me that,” Catherine said, smiling, though her brows were pulled together in wonder and concern.
Charles smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Nothing to tell, Katie.”
“You’ve been saying that a lot,” she whispered, loud enough only for me and Charles to hear.
“I’d say there is a bit to tell.” Edward waved away the waiter who had twice now come to try and settle the diner into his seat and bring him a beverage. “He had the ear of one of the most powerful men in the world. Charles here advised the British Prime Minister himself during the talks.”
“Really?” Graham asked, mouth hanging open.
Charles smiled and shrugged, but he looked like he wanted to shrink into his suit and disappear.
“Yes,” Edward answered since it didn’t appear Charles would. “I hardly played a role at all, not even worthy of a footnote, but Charles had a great role.”
Catherine was still staring at her betrothed, and Charles patted her knee beneath the table. “Speaking to important men does not make one important. It also does not mean they listened to me.”
“They listened to you,” Edward said, running a hand through the slicked back bit of hair on the side of his head. “And with Germany rising once again through the ranks, as if to reclaim power, we may need your wisdom sooner than we’d like.”
Alice gasped. “War? You think there will be another?”
“I do not expect trouble for many years to come yet, but there are some troubling signs for the future,” Edward began.
“Katie was right before,” Charles said quickly, pushing his dinner plate away from him and folding his hands in his lap. “War and treaties do not make appropriate dinner conversation. Let us talk of happier things.”
“Speaking of happier things,” Edward said, bowing. “If I stand for another second, I’ll fall over of starvation. It was lovely to meet you all. And Charles, good to see you again. We should meet and catch up when war talk would be more appropriate.”
Charles nodded as Edward sat down, and Catherine did her best to shift the conversation away from him and back to Aunt Sarah and her many committees, but it was obvious the mood had changed. Within ten minutes, Charles stood up suddenly, the table rattling where he knocked it with his hip, and cleared his throat.
“You all have been wonderful company, but I’m feeling tired.”
“Are you sick, Mr. Cresswell?” Aunt Sarah asked. “My driver can take you home and—”
“No, not sick,” he said, smiling politely. “Just tired. I think I will excuse myself and retire for the evening.”
“And I will go with him,” Catherine said. “Or, rather, I’ll go to my own home at the same time.”
Alice snickered into her napkin, amused at her sister’s verbal stumbling.
Charles tried to argue that it wasn’t necessary, but one stern look from Catherine silenced him. Everyone said their goodbyes, and as Catherine turned to leave, she shot a knowing look in my direction.
This was the exact kind of behavior she had been telling me about, and now it was my responsibility to figure out why it was happening.
Aunt Sarah ordered tarts and cakes and cookies for the table, along with an assortment of freshly-squeezed juices, but it was difficult to enjoy the delicious food when two of our party were missing.
“I do hope Charles is not ill,” Aunt Sarah said, clearly thinking the same thing I was.
“Do you think it could be the food?” Alice asked, looking nervously at the slice of cake in front of her.
Aunt Sarah shook her head. “Never. This restaurant is quite nice. Best chef in the city. It would sooner burst into flames than serve undercooked meat.”
“It is more common than you’d think,” Graham said. “There were several outbreaks of ‘unexplained illness’ at the White Tiger Club. Rumors spread of an unclean kitchen despite their efforts to keep it all under wraps.”
“The White Tiger Club,” Aunt Sarah said, eyes narrowed. “I recognize the name.”
“It is popular with British diplomats staying in Simla,” I said. “Perhaps, you’ve heard someone mention it before.”
Aunt Sarah nodded like that could explain it, but then she lifted one finger to alert us to a new idea. “No, I read it recently. A British general died at the White Tiger Club, did he not?”
My throat clenched. If war was unsuitable for dinner conversation, then certainly staged suicides that were actually murders were unfit, as well.
“General Thomas Hughes,” Graham said softly, shaking his head. “Terrible tragedy.”
“Were they able to uncover who did it?” Aunt Sarah whispered.
“Suicide,” Graham said.
I turned to him sharply. He knew the truth just as I did, but when he looked at me, I saw the weariness in his eyes. He had no desire to explain the circumstances, either. It was easier to stick to the official story.
“Absolutely dreadful,” Aunt Sarah said.
“Did someone say my name?” Edward was standing next to our table once again, one hand tucked into his pocket.
Aunt Sarah shrieked with laughter, pressing a hand to her chest. “Mr. Taylor. Who ever would refer to you as dreadful?”
“You’d be surprised,” he said, winking. Then, he looked around the table and frowned. “Did Charles leave already?”
“He wasn’t feeling well,” Aunt Sarah said, her lower lip sticking out in sympathy. “But you are still welcome to join us, Mr. Taylor. Your humor would be appreciated here. Miss Beckingham and Mr. Collins only just got off a ship this afternoon, so although lovely, they are exhausted from travel and not up to much conversation.”
Edward turned to me. “Where did you come from?”
“Bombay,” I explained. “Simla before that.”
“Simla,” he repeated, brow furrowed.
Edward Taylor did not seem the kind of man to be bothered by a direct line of questioning, so I asked the question as soon as it rose to my mind. “Are you surprised anyone would travel to Simla or do you know my family’s history with the city?”
He blinked, and in the corner of my vision, I saw Aunt Sarah’s eyes widen and Graham stiffen. “I’m sorry, Miss Beckingham. I hope I have not made you uncomfortable.”
“Not in the slightest,” I said with a warm smile. “Death is a difficult topic for even the most war-hardened men to discuss.”
And true to my statement, Edward gulped audibly. “That is true. It does not help that I knew your father. Quite well, in fact.”
I stilled, studying Edward, replaying our interactions in my mind.
He had given me a quizzical look when I’d first announced myself, and I’d assumed it was because he recognized my last name from the papers. But now, I wondered whether he wasn’t picturing the real Rose Beckingham in his mind, comparing her face to mine. We looked similar, yes. But there were differences. Subtle and often unnoticed, but to a keen eye, it could be obvious I was an imposter. Especially if Edward Taylor and Mr. Beckingham were close friends. It would look strange, indeed, if the daughter of his good friend failed to recognize him.
I did my best to remain composed.
“Is that so?” I asked. “I do not recall ever seeing you, but Father had so many friends. He was a very well-liked man.”
“He was,” Edward agreed. “But do not worry yourself with me. I don’t believe we ever had the pleasure of meeting. I knew your father in almost exclusively a business capacity.”
“That seems right because Father rarely brought his business home,” I said. “Mother didn’t like him overworking himself, so ‘business is for the office,’ she would say.”
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Edward smiled. “See, it is exactly that kind of thing I would like to know. I have spent the better part of this last year mourning a man I hardly knew. We always talked of spending a holiday together—me and my children and him and his. I always thought we had more time.”
I reached out and placed a hand on Edward’s suit jacket sleeve, offering him a sympathetic smile. “We all think we have more time until we do not.”
He nodded and then his lips pinched together, determined. “Would you want to join me for lunch, Miss Beckingham?”
“Lunch?” I looked over at Aunt Sarah as if for permission. She and Alice were both watching our exchange as if it was a play put on for their entertainment.
“If it isn’t any trouble,” he added quickly. “I don’t know how long you are in the city, but I would love to talk with you more about your father. Perhaps, learning more about him could settle some of the guilt I’ve felt since his unfortunate end.”
Even though Mr. Beckingham was not my actual father, I knew a great deal about him. I lived with him for nine years of my life. I could talk about him over a lunch with an old business partner, especially if that business partner could provide any clues as to why the Beckinghams were targeted by the assassin, Mr. Barlow.
“Yes, absolutely,” I said. “My father would want me to do whatever is necessary to ease the mind of an old friend. And I would like to learn more about the kind of work he did.”
“I know it is short notice, but would you be free tomorrow?” Edward Taylor grinned down at me, and the look in his eyes made me wonder if he wasn’t expecting a similar outcome to the pairing between his peer and my cousin, Catherine.
I opened my mouth to respond, but Graham interrupted, resting his arm on the back of my chair. “Actually, I hoped to inquire about whether you could tour the city with me tomorrow, Rose.”
And before I could answer Graham’s proposal, Edward stepped away, his smile dimming. “Of course. You are a young woman in a new city. I was a foolish old man to think you’d be free on short notice. I will send word to you soon about setting up a meeting together.”
I wanted to refuse Graham and accept Edward’s offer, but to do so would be an insult to Graham and perhaps convince Edward that I did have a deeper interest in him than just for information. So, as much as I wanted to do otherwise, I told him that would be wonderful and waved as he left.
“Charming man,” Aunt Sarah said, eying Graham carefully.
He was entirely focused on a piece of berry pie in front of him. When he did look up, his expression was carefree, devoid of any of the turmoil going on in my own mind. He turned to Aunt Sarah and Alice. “So, what are the things two newcomers to the city must do and see?”
Aunt Sarah suggested a theater, but Alice waved her away and carried on and on about the Statue of Liberty and the tallest skyscraper in New York City without seeming to take a single breath. Seeing her so excited about something after an evening of grumbles abated whatever annoyance I felt towards Graham for delaying my conversation with Edward Taylor. Because although I had come to the city to help Catherine, it also felt nice to be reunited with my family.
7
Graham knocked on the door of Aunt Sarah’s house the moment we finished eating breakfast. I had just pushed away from the table, so full of fruit, eggs, and croissants that I wasn’t sure I’d even be able to stand, when a servant led Graham into the room. He had traded in his uniform for a dark gray suit and vest, red tie, and black and white two-toned oxfords with a black fedora. He looked dashing, and Alice most certainly took notice.
“Mr. Collins, you look wonderful,” she crowed, sitting up in the chair she had been slumped in, complaining about getting little sleep, only moments before. She turned to me. “What are you going to wear, Rose?”
I was in a pale blue walking suit and my brown low-heeled oxfords, and I had no intention of changing. “We are sightseeing, are we not? No need for a ball gown.”
“You look beautiful as ever, Rose,” Graham said, winking when Alice looked away.
Alice sighed. “I know just the outfit I would wear on a day like today.”
“Subtlety was never a strength of yours.” Catherine shook her head at her younger sister. “Don’t let Alice fool you, Mr. Collins. She sees plenty of the city.”
Graham smiled and made no move to invite her like I thought he might, and then the idea of spending the entire day alone with him settled over me. It felt oppressive like the heat of an Indian summer.
“Alice has not seen the city with me,” I said, reaching a hand across the table to clutch Alice’s fingers. “I would love for you to show me New York the way you see it. Would you come along with us?”
Catherine opened her mouth to argue, no doubt about to tell me that indulging Alice would only make it worse the next time she wanted to accompany me somewhere, but I would worry about that then. Right now, she would act as the perfect barrier between myself and Graham. Besides, she had been feeling left out of all the fun, and this seemed like the perfect way to include her.
Alice jumped up at once. “Give me ten minutes to change.”
Then, she was gone.
Graham maintained the same relaxed smile while we waited for Alice, showing no sign of frustration with me for ruining what may have very well been his attempt at an outing for the two of us. And when Alice came down the stairs, head held high, Graham bowed low and extended an elbow for the two of us, leading us through the front doors like it had been his plan all along.
Alice took control of the day at once, telling the driver to head for one of her favorite shops. From there, we walked in and out of dress shops where Alice admired the luxurious fabrics and made several orders to be delivered to her aunt’s house. Then, we stopped for tea at the only place in the city she claimed could rival the teashops in London.
“Where did you two meet?” Alice asked, hands clutching her delicate mug.
Graham was reclined in his chair, legs crossed, staring out the window toward the people passing on the street like he was a world away. But he answered quickly. “I was a dinner guest at Rose’s hosts’ home her first day in Simla. She joined me the next day to visit local ruins.”
A shadow crossed over his face, and he blinked. The ruins where we became friends were also the ruins where I’d fought for my life. I didn’t have to wonder whether Graham was remembering the last time we’d been there. Of course, he was. Especially since he had apologized to me several times since about arriving too late to be of any help to me. It was not Graham’s responsibility to protect me, but I could not convince him of that, and I doubted I ever would be able to.
Alice frowned. “I always imagined you two meeting at a dance.”
“Always?” I teased. “You only learned of his existence yesterday.”
“Always since yesterday,” Alice said, looking at me as though I had wounded her. I hid my smile in my coffee cup. Alice already had an older sister. She wasn’t looking for yet another in me.
Graham looked over, his blond mustache tilting upwards in a thoughtful smile. “Rose and I had many adventures in India, but we never did manage to attend a social gathering where dancing occurred. Quite a shame, actually. I’m a wonderful dancer.”
“And modest too.”
He laughed. “Why should one be modest about their talents? I would not claim to be worthy of a competition, but I have many past dance partners who will vouch for my abilities.”
“Write down their names, and I’ll write to them one by one,” I said. “Are you still so confident?”
He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, eyes narrowed in a mischievous way. “I’ll get you the list by this evening.”
“I believe you, Mr. Collins,” Alice said, reinserting herself into what had become a private conversation.
I leaned back in my chair, trying to understand the flutter in my stomach that started as soon as Graham narrowed his eyes at me. I took another long drink of tea, hoping the warmth w
ould settle it, but nothing seemed to help. So, I ignored it.
After tea, we walked along the East River. Couples milled along in their afternoon dress, some already wearing their evening dinner attire, hurrying through the crowds towards whatever engagement awaited them. But we did not hurry. Alice paused to lean against the stone railing, peering down at the water dramatically, her new short hair getting caught by the wind off the river. I clung tightly to my own cloche hat, pulling it down further over my ears to keep away the chill. When Graham slipped out of his jacket and offered it to me, I wanted to refuse if only to keep from encouraging him in an affection I did not yet return, but a shiver worked its way down my spine and he settled it over my shoulders.
“I thought this would be our last stop for the day,” he said. “Alice doesn’t ever seem to weary, but I suspect you are tired.”
I laughed. “Alice is young. I am not.”
“You are hardly old,” he said urgently, clearly afraid he had offended me. “But after a long sea voyage, I only assumed you would want time to rest.”
I laid a hand on his shoulder and smiled. “Quite right you are. I have yet to see it, but I would be surprised if my Aunt’s home did not have an impressive library tucked away somewhere. I would not hate curling into a comfortable chair with a book for the rest of the evening. Besides, we did not tell Aunt Sarah we wouldn’t be home for dinner, so I’d hate to miss a meal she may have had prepared for us.”
“And Catherine will probably be missing your company by now,” he said. “She and her sister bicker more than anything else, but she seems to like you.”
“It has not always been so.” I remembered when I first arrived in London the cold reception I’d received from my cousin. My arrival meant her brother would not receive the inheritance my death would have given him, and though she later admitted it was unfair of her, she blamed me for their financial woes. In the end, everything sorted itself out, though not in the way anyone would have expected. “Our relationship grew over a long time, and I believe my time away the last few months has brought us even closer together.”
