by Lee Strauss
“He’d suffered a traumatic loss, and I now believe he did the noble thing by removing himself from your life whilst he dealt with it. He’s back now and stronger. He certainly has his eyes set on you. You’d have to be blind not to see it.”
Ginger sipped her brandy as she contemplated. William had just left her for good, and oddly, Ginger felt no remorse. She wasn’t truly right for William’s temperament, and if she were honest, his wasn’t satisfying for her.
Could she give Basil another chance? Should she?
Ginger hadn’t even had a moment to consider it thoroughly when Pippins interrupted with a message for Haley that would prove to change their lives immeasurably.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Haley was white as a ghost when she returned to the sitting room, and Ginger was immediately filled with alarm.
“Haley, what is it?”
“That was my mother. My Joe—” Haley’s face tightened with grief. “He’s been murdered.”
“Oh no, Haley. I’m so sorry.” Ginger hurried to her feet. “Do you know anything about it?”
Haley was the only girl after her older brothers Ben, Harvey, and Joe. Joe was the one closest in age to her, and, Haley had explained, was the one with whom she had the closest friendship. Her eyes welled with tears as she shook her head. “The police haven’t any leads. Oh, Ginger, I have to go back to Boston.”
Ginger lost her breath. Haley would leave London? Leave her?
Oh mercy! She could be so selfish at times!
“Of course, you must go to your family. Whatever you need, I’m here for you, Haley.”
Haley's shoulders crumpled, and she sobbed into her handkerchief. Ginger wrapped her arms around her and just held her tight. Ginger was well acquainted with grief and knew that the journey to emotional healing for her friend would be long and varied.
Haley inhaled and let out a long shudder. “Thank you, Ginger. I’m going to let the school know.”
“I hope I don’t sound insensitive, but what about your studies?”
Haley sighed. “I can’t think about that now.”
Haley was leaving. Ginger felt stabbed in the heart. She’d grown accustomed to Haley’s presence in her life, greatly enjoyed her company, and valued their friendship tremendously. She swallowed before saying, “Of course. I’ll cover the cost of your voyage.”
Haley looked up, her lower lip trembling. “Ginger, I can’t ask that of you.”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering. It’s my gift and the least I can do.”
“Thank you,” Haley said simply.
“When must you go?” Ginger asked.
“Right away. I should leave for Liverpool tonight and catch the SS Rosa in the morning.”
Ginger closed her eyes and sighed. This was all happening so fast.
Felicia entered with a book in her hand. “I just passed Haley on the stairs. She didn’t look well.”
Ginger stared blankly into space and lowered herself back into her chair. “She just received bad news from home.”
Felicia claimed a spot on the settee. “Oh dear. What happened?”
“Her brother Joe has died.”
“Who died?” Louisa entered in time to hear the last word.
Ginger sighed again, not feeling up to dealing with Louisa, but she couldn’t very well ignore her.
“Haley’s brother,” she answered.
“You can’t be serious?” Louisa sat on the edge of a chair opposite Ginger. “That’s terrible. What happened?”
“I don’t know the details,” Ginger said. “Only that he’s been murdered.”
“Who’s been murdered?” Ambrosia tapped her walking stick on the floor towards the chair Louisa had occupied. She narrowed her eyes at the young girl and Louisa had enough sense to give up her spot and tuck in beside Felicia. Ambrosia slowly lowered herself, leaning heavily on her walking stick.
Ginger held in the temptation to sigh aloud yet again. She reached for Boss, her ball of furry comfort, and held him tightly.
“Who’s been murdered?” Ambrosia repeated.
“Haley’s brother, Joe,” Ginger explained. “In Boston.”
Ambrosia had never taken to Haley, but her expression softened. Ginger’s grandmother-in-law was no stranger to loss.
“How dreadful,” Ambrosia finally said. “It’s never easy to get that kind of news.”
“What’s she going to do?” Felicia asked.
“She’s going back to Boston.” Ginger stroked Boss’ fur, almost desperately. “She’s leaving for Liverpool today.”
“Today?” Louisa said. “So soon!”
“Sometimes, life throws a curve ball.” Ginger smiled to herself. Haley would’ve appreciated her use of a baseball analogy.
“That really is sad,” Louisa commiserated. “You always think you’ll have another chance to see the people you love.”
Ginger, along with Felicia and Ambrosia, stared at the girl. Louisa was generally a flighty and shallow creature and not one to spout off meaningful sentiments.
“So true,” Ginger said.
Louisa amazed the room further. “Perhaps I should go back with her.”
“You mean, you want to leave for Boston today?” Ginger couldn’t conceal her surprise. Louisa had been so adamant about her wish to stay in London. Her maid had only left a couple of days ago. However, Louisa was known to—as the Americans said—turn on a dime.
“Yes, why not?” Louisa stood. “I’ve seen everything I want to see here, and truthfully, I miss my mother.” Just before she pranced through the sitting room door, she looked back and glared at Ginger. “Don’t you dare tell her I said that.”
Ginger wasn’t about to argue with Louisa. Considering the state that Haley was in, Ginger was glad that she would have a travel companion to watch over her, even if that companion was her self-absorbed half-sister.
“That girl is a whirlwind,” Ambrosia muttered.
Two hours later—after teary goodbyes—the taxicab arrived and spirited Haley and Louisa away. Ginger felt bereft at her loss. She swooped Boss into her arms, retired to her room, and cried into her pet’s soft neck.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The first few days without Haley were practically unbearable. Ginger busied herself at Feathers & Flair and spent more time with Scout and Goldmine when she was at home. She felt some relief when she received the telegrams—one from Louisa and the other from Haley—announcing that each of them had made it back to their Boston homes safely. Haley was at her family home on their farm outside Boston. Unfortunately, there had been no new advancements in finding Joe Higgins’ murderer.
After a time, Felicia and Ambrosia’s rather large personalities filled the voids left by Louisa and Haley. “Give it time,” Ambrosia had said. “It won’t be long before you find another stray to bring home.”
Perhaps that would be proven true, but it hadn’t happened yet. Ginger did think about Mary Blythe on occasion. Thankfully, she had made a full recovery after Catherine’s attack on her, and only a handful had known about her being with child. Still, the broken engagement with Oliver Hill had given the gossipmongers a feast to feed on, and Mary quietly disappeared from life at St. George’s.
A month had flown by ushering in a lovely July full of summer sun, which had brought to bloom beautiful plants like freesia, gerbera, lilacs, and roses giving off their individual fragrant scents. Ginger sat out on the stone veranda in the back garden, drinking tea and working on the latest crossword in the Boston Daily Globe. She’d already scoured the paper for news about Joe Higgins, but like always, there was nothing mentioned about him nor how he died.
Scout was playing ball with Boss on the piece of lawn. As Ginger watched them, she couldn’t stop her lips from tugging up into a smile. Despite certain losses, she now had Scout, and though she wasn’t officially his mother, she counted herself as the most appropriate person in the young lad’s life to fill that role.
“I think I wore him out, m
issus,” he exclaimed as he collapsed on the lawn out of breath.
Ginger laughed. “I’m not sure who wore whom out,” she said, though Boss was sprawled out with his front paws out front, his back legs stretched behind, and his long pink tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth as he panted.
Lizzie burst onto the garden through the morning room doors with excitement flashing in her eyes.
“Madam, these came for you!” She handed Ginger a bouquet of fresh long-stemmed roses and a wrapped parcel, the size and shape of a book. Ginger searched the bouquet for a card but found nothing. “Did you see who it was?”
“A delivery boy, madam.”
Ginger sniffed the roses, enjoying the sweet scent, before handing the bouquet back. “Would you mind putting these in a vase?”
Lizzie bobbed and then left the garden with the flowers in her hand. Ginger turned her attention to the package, carefully untying the string and removing the brown paper.
She gasped in delight. Simon & Schuster’s newly published crossword puzzle book, complete with its own pencil! Ginger had never seen such a compilation before and believed this was the first of its kind. She ran a finger over the blue canvas cover with the words, The Cross Word Puzzle Book, cascading in black font.
“How marvellous!”
Ginger still didn’t know the sender and opened the cover to the first page in hopes of a clue. It was there.
Dear Ginger,
I wish you many days of danger-free puzzle solving. I’ve created a rudimentary one of my own. Please give it a try.
Yours, Basil
A sunburst of joy exploded across her chest, and deep down she had to admit she was glad the gift-giver was Basil Reed. He knew how she enjoyed doing crosswords; she conceded that Basil Reed did indeed know her quite well.
In pencil, Basil had created a simple crossword puzzle made of five clues.
One across: Jekyll’s alter ego
Two down: A common picnic area
Three down: London’s theatre district
Four across: the snake
Five across: ride this golden horse
Ginger solved it immediately in her head and chuckled. Hyde, Park, West End, Serpentine, Goldmine.
Basil wanted her to meet him at the west end of the lake in Hyde Park known as the Serpentine, and she was to ride Goldmine.
How fun!
Usually, when Ginger went for a ride, she wore her standard riding clothes—a riding skirt, which was actually a wide-leg form of trousers, so she could ride astride, a growing trend by female riders that still garnered many frowns from onlookers. But today, she was going to be even more daring by wearing actual trousers intended for women—brown fine-tweed sport knickerbockers that ended at the knee. She paired these with a long-sleeved white blouse, a matching waistcoat, a red tie, long socks that ended above the knee, and a pair of suede riding shoes. To this, she added her brown felt hat.
Ginger smiled at her image in the stand-up mirror in her bedroom. She’d come a long way since her arrival in London a year ago. Born Georgia Hartigan, Ginger had been christened with her pet name by her mother because of her red hair.
“Where are you going?” Felicia asked when Ginger passed her in the hallway.
“I’m going for a ride on Goldmine,” Ginger said happily, avoiding a direct response. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
Scout helped her saddle up the golden gelding. Goldmine’s flank shimmied in excitement. “Where are you and Goldmine off to, missus,” Scout asked as he handed her the reins.
“Hyde Park. Just an easy ride today.”
“Sounds lovely, missus.” Scout patted Goldmine’s neck affectionately.
Ginger squeezed her gelding with her thighs and tapped his flank with the heels of her boots. “Let’s go, boy.”
Ginger took her time riding from Kensington to Carriage Drive, through Kensington Gardens and east towards the adjoining Hyde Park. She didn’t want Goldmine or herself to break into a sweat getting there. She allowed the sun’s rays to stroke her face, and breathed deeply of the fresh mid-morning air.
Trotting along the banks of the Serpentine, Ginger scanned the horizon, looking for faces and body shapes that would become distinguishable as Basil Reed. Her mind took a moment to register it was him, riding on horseback.
She felt a smile stretch across her face. Basil was astride an auburn Arabian in a gorgeous leather saddle with bulging saddle bags attached. He looked assured and comfortable in dark blue cotton trousers, a crisp shirt, and a bowler hat.
“A horse looks good on you, Inspector Reed. Or rather, you on it.”
“And you as well.”
They both smiled, Ginger remembering their last ride together. She couldn’t very well see how he looked on a horse with him riding the same horse, sitting behind her. Basil must’ve been thinking the same thing.
“I rather liked your previous attire.” His eyes twinkled and Ginger wagged a playful finger.
“You be good.”
Basil chuckled as he cantered his mount to her side. “I’ll make no promises.”
“Nice gelding you have there, Inspector. Where have you been hiding him?”
Basil patted the muscular side of the Arabian’s neck. “This fellow belongs to my father.”
“He’s lovely.”
“So are you, Lady Gold. Thank you for coming.”
“Your gift was intriguing, and your offer compelling.”
“Shall we ride?”
Ginger snapped her reins and fell into place at Basil’s side.
It felt good—the ride relaxing, their conversation easy. It’d been more than a month since the Edwards’ case, and since then they’d met on occasion, for dinner or for walks in the park. They’d discuss music, politics, and world events, quite animatedly at times. There were many moments when Basil surprised her with witty humour, making her laugh.
Basil pulled up on the reins when they reached a flat, private spot under a lime tree with bountiful deep green leaves.
“I thought we might enjoy a picnic,” Basil said as he dismounted. He stepped over to Goldmine and offered his hand. Ginger, of course, could dismount without assistance, they both knew that, but she appreciated his gentlemanly offer and accepted.
“What, pray tell, are we to picnic on?” Ginger asked. Basil hadn’t mentioned anything in his puzzle about bringing food.
“Not to worry,” he said. “I’ve taken care of that.”
Now Ginger knew what the saddlebags were for. She watched as he removed a tartan blanket and spread it out. He opened a tin with Scotch eggs, sausage rolls, and a salad. Reaching into the second saddlebag, he produced a bottle of red wine and two glasses.
“You have come prepared,” she said.
Basil spread the picnic out on the blanket and motioned for her to sit next to him.
“This is lovely, Basil, though I’m not sure I can account for the occasion.”
Basil opened the bottle of wine and poured two glasses, giving one to Ginger. It was rather early in the day to begin imbibing, but she went along with it.
“Then why don’t I just get to it?” Basil asked. Suddenly, he looked nervous and let out a short breath. He reached into his pocket and removed a small, square, blue velvet box. Ginger felt her heart lodge in her throat. She forced a swallow. He wasn’t . . . Was he?
“Georgia Hartigan Gold, Ginger—” He opened the box to reveal a sparkly diamond cluster ring. “Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”
Her chest heaved, and she struggled to breathe. “Emelia’s only been dead for two months.”
“But we were separated for two years. I know people shall talk, but I don’t care. I want you to be my wife.” Basil ducked his chin, “Ginger? I love you. Do you love me?”
“Yes.” The word came out as if a feather had caught in her throat. She gave it a second try. “Yes! I do. I do love you, Basil Reed.”
“So? Will you marry me?”
Ginger Gol
d loved Basil Reed, and Basil Reed loved her. This was the truth that resounded in her heart.
“Yes!” She threw herself into his arms, not caring that their wine spilled onto the grass. “Yes, I will marry you!”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
St. George’s Church was electric with anticipation. Red roses and white lilies filled the nave of the church, and candles spoke of the love and romance that the imminent wedding vows were about to profess. Felicia played the organ with more delicacy and efficiency than poor Mrs. Edwards could ever have achieved.
Ginger glanced at the ring on her left hand, marvelling at its beauty and how the August morning summer rays cutting through the stained-glass windows caused it to glimmer and shine like a treasure chest of jewels. She smiled at Basil and squeezed his hand. The last month they’d shared together had been the happiest days Ginger had experienced since Daniel had passed away. He would want her to be happy, and Ginger believed he’d approve of Basil Reed.
Mrs. Basil Reed. In time, she’d forget about the other Mrs. Reed and wear the title as her own. She’d miss being Lady Gold, but it was indeed time for new beginnings.
“It’s starting,” she said excitedly as the melody changed to the commanding tone that signalled the beginning of the wedding march. The bride entered the threshold, and everyone stood.
Matilda Hanson was radiant in her ivory gown. Following current trends, the gown hung loosely over her shoulders with a satin dropped waist and the hem landing at her ankles giving a full view of her white satin pumps. A crown-like accessory sat on the top of her head and from it, a long lace veil cascaded to the floor in soft white pools.
Miss Hanson’s father walked her down the aisle as the entrance music played. Oliver’s face beamed with pride and admiration, and Ginger was filled with joy for her friends. This was the better match.
Felix culpe.
Matilda’s personal trauma had led to her leaving medicine and taking up midwifery, an occupation she was ready to lay down for her role as a vicar’s wife. Theo Edwards unfortunate demise had led to Oliver not getting trapped in what was sure to be an unhappy alliance. Today Oliver and Matilda staring at each other with giddy, unconditional, and passionate love made Ginger’s heart soar.
