“A week from Friday.”
“Excellent!” Hal rubbed his hands together. “You’re on your way now, Shaw. From here on out, you’ll be hobnobbing with important people. I only hope you’ll remember your humble friends from time to time.”
Hal kept talking, but Douglas wasn’t really listening. He was still marveling that he held this invitation in his hand, that it was addressed specifically to him. He’d been fairly certain this was coming, yet he still couldn’t believe it was here. It represented a significant milestone.
To think that it had arrived today, after the very interesting time he’d had at work. Alice McNeil was such a pleasure to work with. He was looking forward to more of that in the days ahead. What a breath of fresh air she was, after dealing with Archie and the inept telegrapher Alice had replaced. Henley really had made the right choice in hiring her.
“Well, have you?” Hal asked.
“Have I what?” Douglas said, realizing he hadn’t heard the question.
“Have you got a proper suit for the occasion? Carson knows a good tailor. Says the man works quickly, too.”
“That sounds like what I need.” Douglas stood up. “I’ll have a chat with him about that tonight.”
He went upstairs to wash up and prepare for dinner. A half hour later, he happened to meet Carson as they were walking toward the dining room.
“Hal gave me the good news,” Carson said. He gave Douglas a friendly slap on the back. “You’re a lucky man, Shaw, getting to spend an entire evening with the renowned Miss Rolland.”
“Hmm? Oh, right.” Douglas realized he’d spent the past half hour thinking through the logistics of the dinner party—reviewing what he would wear, what he knew about the men he was likely to meet there, and other such considerations. He hadn’t thought once about the woman who was supposedly his primary reason for going.
But then, he hadn’t even met Miss Rolland yet. He had no doubt things would change considerably once he had. Besides, he had no idea what to expect from her or how to prepare. He only hoped she would be as easy to talk to as Alice McNeil. That would make it a very pleasant evening indeed.
CHAPTER
Nine
I don’t suppose you could give it a go?” Mr. Henley looked hopefully at Alice.
They were all standing next to the typewriter. Mavis was out again today, and Mr. Henley was growing anxious about documents that he wanted typed up and sent out to clients in America.
“I haven’t been trained to use the typewriter, sir,” Alice said. “Learning to use it properly takes some time. If I tried it now, I’m afraid the results would probably not be usable.”
“That’s disappointing,” Mr. Henley said. “We’ve only had that machine for a year, but it has become indispensable. It’s already the standard in American offices, isn’t it, Shaw? We’ve simply got to keep up. Stay modern, and all that.”
Douglas tipped his head in acknowledgment. “Yes, sir. By the way, if we’re going to stay modern, let’s look into investing in a telephone. I saw them in offices all over America. A new telephone exchange has just opened on this street, so getting a line to our office shouldn’t be too difficult.”
“Don’t change the subject! Let’s deal with one newfangled invention at a time.”
“He always gets like that when I mention the telephone,” Douglas whispered to Alice.
Henley looked across the office to the two bookkeeping clerks, who were still seated at their desks. “I don’t understand why we could never get either of you to learn how to use this.”
The clerks, Mr. Dawson and Mr. Nicholls, had both been with the company for over twenty years. They looked affronted at Mr. Henley’s suggestion.
“Mr. Nicholls, as I recall, you got your start in the company by being our copyist,” Mr. Henley pressed.
“Yes, sir, and I was the copyist for many years, until the growth of our company made my work in bookkeeping absolutely indispensable,” Mr. Nicholls pointed out. “If you need me to hand-copy any documents for you today, sir, I will be glad to make time to do it,” he added magnanimously. “But please do not require me to attempt at banging on that monstrosity.”
“With all due respect, sir, we already have more than enough to do,” Mr. Dawson added. “Keeping track of all the contractual requirements, legal requirements, monies, and fees for so many international ventures is an enormous task. You know yourself, sir, that accurate ledgers are the lifeblood of Henley and Company.”
It was a testament to how well these two longtime employees were valued and trusted that they could essentially refuse their employer in this way.
“We received a note today from Miss Waller, stating that she will definitely be back in the office on Monday,” Alice said.
“Given that it’s Friday, surely we can wait until then, Mr. Henley,” Douglas said. “Miss Waller’s filing skills may be less than stellar, but she’s an excellent typist. I believe we will be able to get everything completed by end of day Monday.”
Henley nodded but still looked put out. “All right, that’s what we’ll do. Nevertheless, this is all very inconvenient. We ought to have more than one person in the office who can use that machine, especially for times like this.”
“I nominate Miss McNeil,” Archie called out from his desk.
Alice heard Douglas say under his breath, “Of course you do.” She heard the censure in his voice, and she rather liked him for it. Typewriting was clerical work and was not considered at the same skill level as first-class telegraphers. Archie was signaling his pleasure at the idea of Alice lowering herself by doing that kind of work. She could see yet again why he had so often talked badly about Douglas: Douglas was hardworking, ambitious, and most importantly, a decent person.
Alice, however, was more interested in proving she was a valuable employee who was willing to put the company’s needs first. “I’ll be happy to take lessons, Mr. Henley, if the fee will be paid by the company.”
“Yes, of course,” Mr. Henley answered. “Thank you, Miss McNeil. I appreciate your willingness to step up.”
Archie and the two bookkeepers exchanged smug smiles over this result. Douglas sent Alice a look of surprise, but there was respect in his expression, too. He, at least, seemed to understand why she had agreed.
Mr. Henley waved everyone toward their desks. “Let’s get back to work, everyone. Shaw, we need to review the numbers for the Western Consolidated Grain deal. Can you get that information and bring it to my office?”
“Yes, sir. Be right there.”
Henley went to his office.
Alice sauntered back to her desk. Wanting to take Archie down a few pegs, she said, “I really don’t see why you couldn’t learn typewriting, Mr. Clapper. Unless it’s true what they say about not teaching new tricks to an old dog.”
Archie responded with a sneer. “Better than lowering oneself to menial tasks in an effort to win praise from Mr. Henley. I certainly would never do that.”
“No, you have no need to, do you, Clapper?” Douglas said. “You have other ways of keeping your position here.”
The two men scowled at one another. Something was being said in that look, but Alice had no idea what it was. She only knew that if it had been put into actual words, it would have been ugly.
Archie looked as though a rude remark was on the tip of his tongue, but he was interrupted by the sounder. He shifted his attention to it, and Douglas strode off to his office. A few moments later, Douglas reappeared with a stack of papers in his hand. Alice watched as he walked into Mr. Henley’s office and closed the door behind him. The most important work of the company was being done in that office. For a moment, she wished she could be in there, too, taking part in the discussion and helping to make decisions on weighty issues. Could she really ever rise to such levels, as Douglas had implied yesterday? It was a tantalizing thought—and, if she dared to admit it to herself, somewhat daunting.
For now, however, that was not why she was here.
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She turned to her work. There was a stack of messages to be sent out. Refocusing her thoughts to the task at hand, she initiated the connection for sending the first message.
Douglas was so busy reworking the proposed contract for Western Consolidated that he didn’t have time to think about the earlier conversation about typewriting. It wasn’t until Alice came into his office with a handful of telegrams that he remembered his consternation.
He rose to meet her as she gave him the messages. Alice said, “Most of these were in code, so I went ahead and transcribed them longhand. I thought there were some you’d want to see right away, rather than waiting for Miss Waller to type them on Monday.”
“Thank you.” He sifted through the telegrams she’d brought, skimming their contents rapidly. “Yes, this is good. I can use this one especially right now.” He pulled out a message from their agent in Chicago. “Is this everything?”
“There were several more from our Liverpool office regarding the insurance for that shipment lost in the hurricane last year. I took those to Mr. Henley. The lawyers are confident our claim will be paid by the end of summer.”
Douglas could see she was gaining a personal interest in the company, and he liked that. “You’ve caught on quickly, Miss McNeil. You’ve been paying attention to the details of the business. Even more than your particular tasks might warrant.”
She beamed with pride. He noticed she wasn’t wearing that pretty purple scarf today, nor really any kind of adornment. He thought that was a shame. Although she was no less pleasant to look at without it, that scarf had brightened her features. Douglas always felt that to succeed in any endeavor, it never hurt to make the most of one’s attributes.
“The business of imports is really fascinating,” Alice said. “I’m beginning to understand how all the elements work together, and I like that. When I worked at the CTO, I handled thousands of messages, all going to different places, and none of them had any context.” She gave a little laugh. “At times I felt like a mere intermediary for messages going between distant stars, all mysterious in their meaning.”
“An interesting flight of fancy,” Douglas said. He liked her alert and inventive mind.
She smiled. “Not to mention that a lot of them used code words, which made the messages even more inscrutable.”
“Ah yes. And now you’re becoming initiated into those secrets.”
“Precisely.” Her eyes lit up.
Douglas thought back to this morning’s conversation at Miss Waller’s desk. “Are you really so keen to become a typewriter girl?”
Alice looked taken aback. “I wouldn’t classify it that way. I’ll be a telegrapher who happens to know how to use a typewriter. There’s a big difference. I can’t see Mr. Henley lowering my pay because I might do a bit of typewriting when needed.”
“No, of course not. It will only make you more valuable as an employee.”
“Besides, as we discussed this morning, typewriting has become the standard for business documents. I can only see this skill becoming more and more valuable, and not relegated only to clerks. It’s already been added to the civil service exam.”
“Has it?”
She nodded. Pointing a finger at him in admonishment, she added with a sly smile, “As you told Mr. Henley, it’s important that we keep up with all the latest developments.”
He gave her an answering grin. “Right you are, Miss McNeil. I stand corrected.” Her playful sense of humor was a refreshing change in the office, to be sure.
“We might also think about how we standardize our document formatting, what business terms we capitalize, and other such things,” she went on. “I don’t feel ready to tackle that just yet, but perhaps in time. I believe I should learn more about the industry first.”
Here was a worker who was going out of her way to find more things to do! Douglas was more and more impressed with her. “Tell me, Miss McNeil, is this something that’s been brewing in your thoughts for a while, or was it spurred by our conversation yesterday about getting into management?”
“A little of both, I think. There is one idea that has occurred to me since then. I noticed you and Mr. Henley both make a point of reading the Shipping and Mercantile Gazette. I wondered if I might read the issues when you’re done with them?”
“That’s a good idea. You’ll learn a lot that way. I’d also recommend Lloyd’s List.” He picked up a copy from the corner of his desk and handed it to her.
She accepted it with a smile. As she looked down at it, Douglas realized it was still folded open to a particular notice that had caught his attention. He had even circled it in pencil.
She looked up. “Did you intend to keep this article about Mr. Andrew Carnegie? He’s an American industrialist, I believe.”
“Yes, that’s right. He was born in Scotland, though. The article says he’ll be in England for the next few months. I found another article in the Times that said he’ll be touring the country with a group of companions in a coach-and-four.”
“That sounds charming. Is there a reason it’s of particular interest to you?”
“I’d love to find a way to meet him. We have some mutual business acquaintances in New York. According to the Times, he’s in London this week. Unfortunately, there was no mention of where he is staying.”
“Perhaps he’ll drive his coach-and-four in Hyde Park, like so many of our English gentlemen do.”
She said it in an offhand way, but it struck Douglas as a very insightful comment. “What a brilliant idea! Perhaps I’ll look for him this Sunday.”
She beamed again. “Well, I suppose I’d better get back to work. Thank you for this.” She indicated the newspaper in her hand.
“Happy reading. Oh, and Miss McNeil—”
She paused. “Yes?”
“I noticed you had on a very nice purple scarf the other day.”
She gave him a sheepish look. “It was perhaps too frivolous to wear to work.”
“On the contrary, it was most becoming. Not that you need it to do your job well,” he hastened to assure her. “On the other hand, since you are striving to make a difference and to stand out, why not also present the very best appearance?”
For a moment, he was worried that he’d offended her in some way. Her eyebrows lifted, and then settled again. Overall, she looked perplexed.
In the end, she seemed to accept it as the disinterested advice that it was. “Thank you,” she said, her smile returning. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Alice paused on her way back to her desk, taking a moment to absorb what had just transpired. She was gratified that Douglas had encouraged her desire to learn as much as she could about the business. Given what she’d already seen of him, that was in line with what she’d expected.
What had truly surprised her, though, was his comment about the scarf. He found nothing wrong with the idea of wearing clothes to the workplace that flattered one’s appearance. More interestingly, he’d noticed. This had stunned her and left her temporarily speechless. Perhaps she ought to take more heed of Lucy’s fashion advice. Alice didn’t think any man had ever complimented her on her appearance before—let alone a man like Douglas Shaw. Her pulse still sped up whenever she looked at him. She’d told herself she was getting better at ignoring those feelings, but for that moment in his office, she had been nearly overwhelmed by some heady mixture of happiness and pride.
She was still standing there, smiling to herself and feeling very pleased about everything, when Mr. Henley passed her. He gave her a nod of acknowledgment but didn’t pause.
He went into Douglas’s office. Through the open doorway, Alice could hear him say, “By the way, Shaw, I forgot to ask you earlier. Did you receive that invitation to the Rollands’ dinner party?”
“Yes, sir, I did.”
“Excellent! Rolland has been warming up to the idea of bankrolling our next venture. If you make a good showing at this party, his buy-in will be practically guaranteed.”
Although Alice wanted to hear more, she was also aware that it was unprofessional to eavesdrop. She returned to her desk.
There was plenty of work to do, but she found it difficult to concentrate. So many ideas were keeping her mind otherwise engaged.
CHAPTER
Ten
On the heels of a pleasantly engrossing week at work, Lucy’s “dinner party” was a bit of a letdown. It was turning out to be just as painful as Alice had anticipated. There was more food than the three of them could possibly eat, and Lucy was constantly burbling about one inane topic or another. By contrast, Fred said very little, although he ate quite a lot. A burly man, he seemed determined to do justice to Lucy’s well-laid table. They were on the third course now, and he’d uttered perhaps a dozen words, mostly in answer to Lucy’s questions.
“What’s the matter, Fred—cat got your tongue?” Lucy joked after he had given another terse answer to one of her questions. She pretended to give a delicate little sneeze and said, “Oh my! I get allergic just thinking about those creatures!”
It was clear she was trying to lighten the mood. She wanted this to be a real party, after all. Alice could have told her this wasn’t going to work, but it wouldn’t have made a difference. Lucy was convinced, for some reason, that Fred could be jolly good company. Perhaps he was—when he wasn’t around Alice. Maybe her presence was the reason for his sullen demeanor.
That was just silly, Alice decided. Thirteen years was too long to hold a grudge over such a minor matter. She might not particularly like Fred, but there was no reason they should act like mortal enemies.
After waiting until he had swallowed a mouthful of food and washed it down with some wine, she said to him, “I understand you are to be gone for several months. What will be your ports of call? It must be very interesting to visit so many places.”
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