“How long have you been with Rosalind?” I asked.
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business. Paul, if you’re going to lecture me on how you were with her and I stole her from you also...you should know, Rosalind wanted me. She still does. You may have had my wife’s heart, but you’ll never have Rosalind.”
I laughed out loud.
“I can assure you that’s not why I’m asking. Rosalind means nothing to me. She never did. It’s Claire I care about.”
“Well, Claire doesn’t seem to care much about you now, does she? In the end...you are alone, Paul.”
I ignored Richard’s harsh words and kept to the point.
“You have to tell her Richard,” I said once we were back in the drawing room.
“Stop it, Paul. I don’t need to do anything. And it would do you good to keep your mouth shut about the matter also.”
“There’s no way out of this. And if you don’t tell her, I’m going to.”
“I’m sure you’d like that, wouldn’t you Paul,” Richard said, flashing me an angry stare.
I stood in front of him, my back to Claire who was still giggling with Guy Finlaw.
“Look at what’s happening to her, Richard. You’ve already driven her to someone else.”
“Is that what this is all about? You can’t handle that she’s found a new interest?”
“She’s only with him because of how you treated her. That’s your wife, Richard. Don’t you care that she is with someone else?”
Richard laughed and then he leaned in toward me. In a voice just above a whisper he said, “Please don’t take me for a fool, Paul. I know you and Claire were together, and I know that your concern about our relationship is purely selfish. But you’re going to have to accept that Claire doesn’t love you anymore. And as for me, well, I will deal with Rosalind as I deal with all my women. It’s none of your concern, and you will leave it.”
With that, Richard walked away, and I was left standing alone.
“Attention everyone,” Aldous said, clanging his champagne glass for the second time of the evening. “I do hope you’re all enjoying yourselves.” Aldous leaned on his cane heavily as he spoke. “If you would all please move into the front hall at this time for the special surprise of the evening.”
Everyone began to shuffle out of the drawing room and into the front hallway. I was one of the last to leave and stood near Aldous at the bottom of the front hall stairs.
“Six months ago, I learned something that has impacted my life, and I’m thrilled that you’re all here to share in my happiness.”
Murmurs filtered throughout the crowd, and I watched as Aldous took a deep breath. Then he said, “I learned that someone kept a very large secret from me for many years. So huge was this secret that it may have affected many people’s lives. I know, in particular, one life it shattered. And so I would like to reveal to everyone...my daughter.”
At the top of the stairwell, a woman stood in a long royal blue sequined dress. She had beautiful curled golden hair, long white gloves, and a blue headdress. An elegant diamond and gold lace fan covered the front of her face as she carefully walked down each step. As she approached the bottom of the stairs, Aldous met her and said, “Everyone, please meet my beautiful daughter, Amy Rose Loxley.
59 Amy Rose Loxley
Paul Watson’s Journal
September 30, 1927, continued.— Amy wasn’t a Reid at all. She was a Loxley. I needed to understand how this was possible. I stared as Aldous introduced his daughter to his guests. I only saw Amy Rose. Finally, she saw my eyes, and I saw, for the first time, a beautiful smile, and the familiar sparkle in her eyes that I remembered from our memories in my Aunt Greta’s garden as children.
I pushed through the guests. When I reached her, my heart pounded quickly. I saw the scars on her mouth. They were prominent, but healing. To me, she was still breathtaking.
“Amy…” was all I could say. She looked at me with her emerald green eyes, and I took her hand in mine.
“Paul,” Aldous interrupted, sucking in a deep breath and then producing a smile. “You two have met.”
Amy blushed.
“Wow,” was all I could muster. “This is unbelievable. You look...incredible.”
I saw her form a tiny smile and she nodded.
“Are you able to speak yet?”
“A little,” she said just above a whisper. “I’m still healing.”
“I found top surgeons in both American and Europe, progressive thinkers, who were able to reconstruct her mouth. They did a remarkable job, didn’t they Paul? She still has one more surgery and therapy for the speech, but she sure does look beautiful.”
Amy and I did not take our eyes off of one another.
“I don’t understand,” I said to Aldous. “How are you Amy’s father?”
“My sister Mary’s nurse was Rose, Amy’s mother. We grew very fond of each other. After my wife Isabelle passed away, Rose and I...we thought we might run away together. I was a widow, but she was still married.”
“To Doctor Reid.”
“To a monster. And she could not break free.”
“Why didn’t you tell me the truth before?”
“I...I couldn’t. The last I remembered of Rose and Amy, was the tragedy of their deaths.
“This is just incredible,” I said. I stood close to her now.
“Amy, I’d like you to meet some of my friends. Perhaps you and Paul could get together tomorrow.”
“I’d like that,” I said with a smile.
“I’d like that also,” she said returning the smile.
As Amy turned to greet more of Aldous’ guests, I drew in a deep breath as I realized how fond of Amy I truly was. I was still in disbelief as I left the Loxley mansion that evening, but all the pain of the evening was gone. I no longer worried about Richard and Rosalind or Claire and Guy. All I could think about now, was Amy Rose Loxley.
60 General Gossip
“Well at least Claire had the sense to leave him,” Petunia said.
It was late in November and Beatrice and Mrs. Wendell sipped on tea as they sat around Petunia’s walnut coffee table.
“But how terrible for her, a complete humiliation. She really should try to work it out rather than be the brunt of a scandal.”
“I disagree, Tessie. Now more than ever. Women don’t have to stand for that sort of thing these days.”
“I certainly wouldn’t stay with a man like that,” Beatrice stated. “I think it’s horrid he waited so long to tell Claire.” She rolled her eyes. “Although I’m not sure Claire Baker felt anything for her husband when she left him. Not with Guy...I mean... Peter...on her arm. How long was Richard seeing that Rosalind woman?”
“For almost two years,” Petunia said. “Claire had no idea until she started filming the production. She thought he was taking it up with the maid. He paid for Rosalind to stay in Paris with them at a different hotel, of course.”
“So the rumors were true. She was the blonde woman with Richard,” Beatrice remarked. “How terrible.”
“Yes, terrible indeed to have a mistress and then treat her as though she’s a Lady.”
Mrs. Wendell took a sip of her tea.
“No wonder she’s taken up an affair with your son, Petunia. They seem to be quite the talk of the town.”
“Oh yes, they can’t seem to keep themselves out of the headlines,” Petunia agreed.
Beatrice laughed.
“He is a famous actor. Of course he’s in the headlines.”
Petunia noticed Beatrice seemed happy. She had avoided Petunia and her aunt for almost two months and now acted as though nothing had happened.
“He is, I’m afraid. I do like Claire though. She’s in the process of divorcing Richard. He wouldn’t divorce her before, but now he’s agreed. I know it’s a terrible word and a terrible thing, but I do think it’s right in this case. Perhaps Claire will find happiness with my son.”
Beatrice
laughed.
“Petunia, clearly you don’t know your son.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s the subject of every American gossip magazine. He can’t even walk out the door there without being hounded by thousands of women. And the women here adore him as well.”
Petunia muttered to herself, “Well, Claire does seem to have a weakness for well-desired men.”
“Do you think you’d move to America with your son?”
“Oh no, no. I would much rather stay here. Peter...I mean, Guy, would like to be able to visit whenever he pleased. He is taking care of all of Phillip’s debts and finances. He only wants to see me happy. I’m so thankful for him. What a dear boy. I’m still sad that I wasn’t able to raise him, but his adopted parents did care for him well.”
Beatrice smiled and then changed the subject.
“Can you believe that Agatha Bates is still alive?”
“Yes, and can you believe Oscar and Aldous were involved with that story?”
“They did it to protect her,” Petunia defended.
“Still, what a disgrace. They’re lucky they didn’t go to prison.”
“So Richard Baker and Roger Loxley were proved innocent?”
“Yes, and the murderer is still out there.”
“Didn’t Agatha see the murderer?”
“No.”
“It’s awfully strange,” Petunia said. “I’ve not received a threatening note since Phillip’s death.”
“Do you think he was the murderer and someone knew?”
“I don’t know,” Petunia shrugged. “I just don’t know anything anymore. I hate to think it could have been him in any way. He wouldn’t have a reason. If only someone found the murder weapon, then the police would have the murderer and the case would be solved.”
“If someone did find the gun,” Beatrice inquired, “who would he even bring it to? Perhaps he would bring it to the police and they would accuse him of the murder.”
“Perhaps, but, I wouldn’t even bring it to the police. I would bring it to Detective Wicksy. He’s been very good on this case, and I believe he’s worked on it since the beginning with his partner Barnes.”
“Who is Detective Wicksy?” Beatrice asked. “Is he handsome? Is he married?”
“Are you interested in him, Beatrice?”
“Perhaps.”
“Well, that’s good. I’m sure glad you’re over whatever it was you were dealing with,” Petunia remarked.
Beatrice responded with a smile.
“I am, thank you. And now, I must leave you both. I’ll see you later, Auntie.”
“Mrs. Glum,” Petunia said. “Please see Beatrice out.”
61 A Christmas Eve to Remember
Paul Watson’s Journal
December 26, 1927, evening— The day after Amy’s reveal, she and I met at the Loxley’s for lunch. Since that day, we became inseparable, and I was quite certain that Amy was the only woman I wanted to marry. Three months passed, and she was recovering very well. I planned to propose to her on Christmas Day at the Loxley Christmas Dinner. Initially, I was going to propose at the annual Loxley Christmas Eve Masquerade Ball, but opted for a more intimate setting. The ball would be a joy-filled night anyway, and I was excited to attend.
An icy rain fell on the night of the ball, and I arrived wearing a brand new white gold mask. I greeted Mr. Waldorf and handed him my overcoat and then headed into the ballroom. Along with the laughter and chatter of the guests, I could hear the jovial upbeat music of trumpets and saxophones seeping into the Loxley’s grand hallway from inside the ballroom.
A waft of delightful smells filled my nostrils, and when I opened the doors to the ballroom, I saw hundreds of people in black tuxedo tails and beautiful sequined dresses with feathered headdresses and colorful masks.
Suddenly, a cold chill washed over me as though someone was watching me. I turned my head slightly to see a man in a jester mask staring at me from across the room. My stomach lurched as I realized it was one of the masks from the Kolney Hatch tunnels. It was a mixture of green and gold with the corners of the mouth turned up.
“Hey!” I called to the man and pushed through the throng of people to get to him. But he had already disappeared into the crowd, and for several seconds I searched for him. That’s when I spotted Amy. In middle of the revelry she stood, looking radiant as always, her blonde hair and emerald eyes set off by a jeweled gold mask with tall white feathers. She wore a long white ruffled ball gown trimmed in gold with the pearl and diamond necklace I gave her around her neck. My aunt’s diamond hair pin glistened in her hair.
When she spotted me, she hurried quickly to my side.
“My love,” she whispered into my ear.
I kissed her cheek.
“You look ravishing. There isn’t a woman here who could match your beauty.”
Amy blushed as two men appeared next to us. One was dressed in a long red velvet cape and black tails, with his hair slicked and a white partial mask covering his face. I recognized him as Edgar and the man standing next to him with a strange cat mask was John.
“There he is,” John said. “The only man in the room whose wealth surpasses ours.”
“John, that mask is disturbing.”
Edgar laughed. “Oh yes, well you see, Paul, my father insisted on planning most of this ball and John was not pleased. You know how attached he is to it. Father’s brought back the dancing competition and the best dressed competition. I’m pleased as you can imagine, but John’s barely had a say in anything, and that mask is his only way of ensuring he is the center of attention.”
“That’s hardly the reason I wore it,” John argued. “I like to be different. That’s all.”
I laughed.
“Edgar,” I said, changing the subject. “Amy tells me you’re going to New York to visit Roger and Vivian for a while.”
“Yes, and I am very excited. I could use a change, and I know Roger is excited for me to see New York.”
“Is Richard coming tonight?” John asked. “You know, your brother, which I find is extremely odd to say. Although I guess we’ve both gained a sibling.”
I shook my head.
“He’s gone to Paris.”
“A terrible situation he’s gotten himself into, isn’t it?”
I raised my eyebrows.
“Well, that’s something he needs to work out, and I could use a drink.”
John, Edgar, Amy, and I walked through a dancing and laughing crowd to the back corner of the ballroom. I stopped abruptly when I thought I spotted the man in the jester mask staring at me again from across the ballroom. In an instant, he was gone, and I tried to forget what I thought I had seen. When we reached the usual fully stocked bar, a servant poured me a glass of whiskey.
I took a sip of my drink and turned to look at the dance floor. I spotted Guy Finlaw first and saw he was dancing with a woman whose hair was the color of red velvet. I almost spit out my drink when I realized that it was Claire. She was wearing a long silver dress with a train that extended far behind her and a matching sequined headdress. I hardly recognized her.
Then, a man without a mask with an egg-shaped head appeared next to me. “Constable...where is your mask?” John scolded.
“I came straight from the headquarters. I didn’t have time for a mask.” He directed his next words toward me. “Paul Watson, I’m glad to see everything’s worked out for you,” he said, putting one of the many hors d'oeuvres of smoked salmon and cream cheese into his mouth.
“Thanks,” I said.
“The food here is always so delicious,” the Constable continued. “Simplicity and a subtlety of flavor that is quite difficult to achieve.”
“My father says you’re good at cricket,” John said to the Constable.
“Yes, we did have a nice chat about it.”
“I never knew. We could use you this summer for one of our matches.”
“Of course,” Constable Wyatt nodded. “I woul
d really like that.”
Amy tapped me on the shoulder, and I turned to her.
“I almost forgot,” she said. She could speak very well now, but she still spoke softly. “My father wanted to introduce me to some old friends. I’ll be back, Darling.”
“Of course,” I smiled.
John and the Constable continued their conversation as they headed to the bar for another drink. Edgar was conversing with an older gentleman I didn’t recognize, and I found myself alone, until I saw Claire making her way toward me.
“Hullo,” I said, once she stood by my side. She took a sip of her champagne.
Without greeting me she said, “You and Amy Rose seem to be the talk of London. Are you two that serious?”
“We are,” I answered honestly. I didn’t want to hurt Claire, but I did want to be honest with her.
“I see.”
Her eyes still avoided mine by scanning the rest of the room.
“Well then...it seems the Adonis of London has finally found his match.”
Her words were cold and empty, but I understood she was going through a difficult time, so I did not react.
“How are you, Claire?” I asked, turning to her. “Honestly?”
“Oh very well, I’m enjoying my life. Yes, I’m just wonderful.”
“I know you’re hurting Claire. And I’m so sorry for what Richard’s done to you, but...”
“I’d rather not talk about it. I’m perfectly fine.” She smirked. “Although, I will say, it makes sense you two being brothers.”
“What does that mean?”
Claire ignored my question and said haughtily, “I am happy for you Paul. And look how far Amy Rose has come from ghastly girl from the tunnels to Loxley princess. And oh, your Aunt Greta’s jewels look beautiful on her. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Guy is waiting for me.”
“Claire, why are you being so ill-mannered?”
Claire turned her head, and upon seeing Guy, waved to him and sauntered into his arms. I felt my heart squeeze. What Claire and I had was over, for good.
62 Murderer Revealed
Paul Watson’s Journal
December 26, 1927, continued.—Later that evening, Amy and I were enjoying a lively waltz when Detective Wicksy burst through the doors of the ballroom. He stood there with Aldous, Detective Barnes—who hobbled on a cane—and a host of other police officers.
Kolney Hatch: Buried Secrets (The Secret of Kolney Hatch Book 2) Page 20
