Line by Line

by Jennifer Delamere

  There was no time to say anything more. The director returned to the lectern and began to introduce the speaker, giving a long list of the man’s qualifications. Alice heard, rather than saw this, as she was still looking into Douglas’s eyes. They were filled with friendly good humor that was so inviting. . . .

  Lucy tugged at Alice’s sleeve.

  Dragging her gaze from Douglas, Alice turned and said, “Yes?”

  “I can already tell from the introduction that this is going to be terribly technical,” Lucy whispered. “I’m sure I’ll need to ask you for clarification.” As she spoke, she sent a brief glance toward Douglas that conveyed—to Alice’s surprise—a hint of worry. But that made no sense, given Lucy’s initial pleasure at meeting him. Alice decided she must be mistaken.

  Over the next hour, the speaker presented a breathtaking vision of what the future with telephones would be like. Perhaps she ought to be worried for her job after all. In a world where people could speak directly with each other, even over long distances, there would be no need for the telegraph operator as an intermediary.

  However, that reality was still a long way off. It paled in comparison to her current problem. Even as she listened intently to this lecture, Alice could not forget that Archie was seated somewhere behind them. She imagined him watching them, making assumptions about why they had obviously decided to meet here today. As if there could be any other reason than that they were colleagues with a mutual interest in the newest forms of electrical communication.

  Lucy’s actions disturbed her focus as well. She kept finding reasons to whisper comments to Alice, and her gaze frequently moved between Alice and Douglas as though assessing a doubtful situation. Something was going on in her friend’s mind. Whatever it was, Alice knew she would have to address it later.

  After a lively question-and-answer session, the program came to a close. As everyone stood, Alice turned to see if she could find Archie in the crowd, wanting to know if he was watching them.

  He was. He gave her a long, cold look that actually made her shiver. Then he turned and walked out of the hall.

  Since they were near the front, it took a while to exit due to the crowd. By the time they made it outside, there was no sign of Archie.

  Alice saw many people making their way down the path that led to the park. She would have loved to go there, too, but she hesitated to suggest it since they were with Douglas. She was unsure of the protocol of this situation. So they all stood where they were.

  Douglas appeared to have forgotten about Archie. He was smiling. “That was an excellent presentation, wasn’t it?” he said to Alice. “He really knows what he’s talking about. What did you think of his explanation regarding the possibility of a transatlantic telephone cable? It seems almost too fantastic to contemplate, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, but the way he explained it, I believe it will happen one day. After all, it’s only been about fifteen years since we succeeded with the transatlantic telegraph cable. Many people thought that would be impossible, too.” Alice quickly became swept up in Douglas’s enthusiasm as they imagined what it would be like to actually talk to a client who was on the other side of the ocean and how it would impact business.

  They’d talked for perhaps ten minutes when it became evident that Lucy was not saying anything. This was not surprising, as they were speaking of things outside her friend’s knowledge and interest. Although Alice felt guilty about this, she also hoped it truly was the reason Lucy had grown quiet, and that it wasn’t because she worried about this time they were spending with Douglas. Was she harboring the idea that it was somehow wrong for Alice to spend leisure time with someone from work—and someone who was technically her overseer? Perhaps she worried there might be negative consequences for such fraternization.

  Alice decided she could not be responsible for whether a person attended a public lecture. After all, Archie had been there as well.

  The thought of Archie sent another chill down her back, despite the heat. She was glad he hadn’t tried to press his company on them. And yet, was that really a good thing? Archie had sent hate-filled glares at her before today. Plenty of times. But that was before the pencil incident. And she’d never seen the stark malevolence he’d shown today just before he walked away. So much for any ground she might have won by being nice to him. It was all gone now—and then some.

  Nearby, an ices vendor stood next to his cart, calling out, “Ices! Ices! Raspberry! Strawberry! Lemon! Halfpenny only! Halfpenny only!” He wore a bowler hat, a red kerchief around his neck, and spoke in a thick Italian accent. “You there! Signore!” he called out to Douglas. “You buy nice ices for the ladies, yes? Don’t leave them suffering in the heat when they could be cooled down with a sweet treat!”

  “Would you like one?” Douglas asked them.

  “We couldn’t ask you to buy us anything,” Alice protested.

  “It’s but a trifle. I insist.” He tilted his head and studied Alice. “You look like a lemon, I think.”

  “I can’t say I’ve ever been told that before,” she replied with a laugh.

  “I meant to say that you look like the sort of person who enjoys lemon-flavored ices,” he clarified with a smile. “Because they are tart on the tongue. Am I right?”

  She wanted to say no, just to tease him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She was too amazed that he’d read her that well. “How did you guess?”

  “It’s a talent. It cannot be learned.” He turned to Lucy. “You are strawberry, I think.”

  “Right you are, Mr. Shaw.”

  “Perhaps you missed your calling,” Alice joked. “Being so good at divination, you might have gotten a job at a carnival.”

  “Och, no, me lassie. I’m thinkin’ higher than that.” Douglas slipped into his Scottish brogue, perhaps to add a touch of levity to his words. “I intend to use it to succeed in business, for you see, ’tis a skill that can be used to win over customers as well.” His eyes lit up with pride. “Mark my words: if I’m not the owner of Henley and Company someday, it’ll be because I own somethin’ bigger.”

  Alice heard the ring of conviction beneath his lighthearted delivery. Once more she reflected that, despite a measure of hubris, there was something impressive about his unwavering intention to rise in the world. She hadn’t heard him use the brogue so heavily before. For some reason, it did fluttery things to her stomach. But then, she did have Scottish ancestry. Perhaps he was connecting with some deeper part of her. . . .

  “You certainly are ambitious, Mr. Shaw,” Lucy observed.

  Her statement pulled Alice from the reverie she’d almost slipped into. “Humble too,” she added, trying to bring him down a notch—and settle her skittering thoughts.

  Douglas grinned. Dropping the brogue, he said, “Wait here, ladies.”

  They waited in the shade of the building’s portico while Douglas went to acquire the ices.

  “Mr. Shaw seems very personable,” Lucy said.

  “Yes, he is. As he said, he uses it to good advantage in business.”

  “I see.”

  Having no idea how to respond to that cryptic remark, Alice said nothing.

  Douglas was on his way back when Lucy said, “Oh, Alice, I nearly forgot!” She pulled a small envelope from her reticule. “I got a letter from Fred yesterday. He’s reached Bombay. He sends his kind regards—and he enclosed this note for you in his letter.”

  Lucy said this precisely as Douglas came within earshot. The way his eyebrows lifted slightly told Alice he’d heard. Mortified, she took the note and thrust it into her bag. “Thank you. I’ll read it later.”

  Lucy gave a sniff of irritation at Alice’s hasty dismissal.

  “This Fred seems to be a world traveler,” Douglas remarked as he handed them their ices.

  “He’s my brother,” Lucy said. “Oh, and Alice, he also mentioned that he bought you a little present. He’s eagerly anticipating his return so he can give it to you.”

>   Douglas looked at Alice as if seeing her in a whole new light. “You seem to have many admirers, Miss McNeil.”

  Did he think she was dangling after men—or worse, that she had a beau? Although he spoke with ironic amusement, she thought he seemed disappointed, too. Perhaps he thought she hadn’t been serious about her goal of remaining single and pursuing a career. Perhaps he thought she’d lied to him. That bothered her most of all.

  Lucy ate a bite of her strawberry ice and smiled with satisfaction. “Thank you, Mr. Shaw. This is delicious.”

  Then Alice understood. Lucy saw Douglas as a rival to Fred! She had chosen that exact moment to bring out Fred’s letter in order to ensure Douglas didn’t try to court Alice. The whole idea would be laughable except that it was too unsettling. In too many ways.

  Honestly, the entire situation was impossible to fathom. With Archie, Fred, and Douglas showing interest in her, she suddenly felt like Lewis Carroll’s Alice, finding herself in a topsy-turvy world.

  “I . . . that is . . .” Alice sputtered, trying to find words. “Fred is merely a friend, you see. We’ve known each other since we were children, and—”

  “Shaw! Is that you?” A man’s voice interrupted Alice’s ramblings.

  Alice immediately recognized the man approaching them. It was one of Douglas’s friends, the one named Hal. He was escorting a vivacious-looking young woman in a brightly colored gown.

  Douglas’s reaction was not what Alice would have expected. Instead of looking pleased, he closed his eyes, deflating the way a man did when he heard very bad news, and turned to face the newcomers.

  CHAPTER

  Seventeen

  Ho, ho! You decided to come after all!” Hal said.

  Douglas grimaced, swallowing a few choice words before he could utter them. Hal had found him. In the midst of thousands of people. Of course he had. Because there hadn’t been enough bizarre things happening this afternoon already.

  “Hard at work, I see,” Hal said. He tipped his hat at Alice and her friend. “Tell me, which of you ladies is the dance instructor?”

  They both looked understandably surprised.

  “Neither of them,” Douglas said. “We came to hear a lecture about the future of the telephone.” He indicated the Alexandra Palace behind them.

  “A lecture? That’s how you want to spend a lovely afternoon like this?”

  “It just ended,” Alice said, jumping into the conversation with a smile. “Why does Mr. Shaw need a dance instructor?”

  “Didn’t he tell you?” Hal looked at him askance. “No, I don’t suppose he would. After all . . .” He paused, giving Douglas a cheeky grin.

  Douglas knew what he was thinking—that he was here in a social capacity. Maybe Hal thought he was planning to court one of the ladies. Or both, even. He had to disabuse his friend of that notion right away. “This is Miss McNeil and her friend Mrs. Bennington. Miss McNeil works as a telegraph operator at Henley and Company. That’s why we are here today. It’s . . . er, research.”

  “Is that right?” Hal looked skeptical. Or perhaps he was disappointed that Douglas wasn’t trying to court two women after all.

  Douglas completed the introductions, then added, “Mr. Halverson is a fellow boarder at the same house where I live.”

  “Please call me Hal—it’s simpler,” Hal insisted to the ladies. “And this is Mamie.” He indicated the dark-haired woman clinging to his arm. Douglas had not met Mamie before, but she matched the image he’d had of her based on Hal’s descriptions. She wore a bright red-and-blue-striped dress and matching hat that edged dangerously close to garish. There was an obvious touch of man-made color to her cheeks and lips. Apparently she had a lot of natural energy, for she fairly bounced on her toes, even as they stood there talking.

  Mamie released her hold on Hal long enough to pump both ladies’ hands enthusiastically. “I’m so pleased to meet you. We’re just on our way to the tea dance. Won’t you join us? It will be loads of fun!” Her accent placed her origins firmly on London’s poorer east side.

  “Is this why Mr. Shaw needs a dance instructor?” Alice asked, looking distinctly amused.

  “I am not good at dancing, so I end up turning down a lot of offers to attend dances. That’s all.” Douglas looked at Hal pointedly, trying to transmit his desire that they keep the subject of the upcoming ball and Miss Rolland out of this conversation. It would be too embarrassing to admit he was a would-be suitor with a fatal flaw. Alice only knew him as a successful man of business, and he wanted to keep it that way. He didn’t want to allow his private life to seep into his relationships with work colleagues. On the other hand, he thought grimly, he ought to have thought of that before coming here.

  Hal gave a nod and a wink, as if to say, Your secret is safe with me.

  “I’m surprised you should have trouble dancing,” Alice said, turning her gaze to Douglas.

  “Why is that?”

  “Because you’re a telegrapher, and a good one to boot.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t follow.”

  “Some years ago, while I was still living at home, my older brother had the same problem. It was hindering his ability to woo a particular young lady in our village.”

  Douglas started in surprise. Had his problem been that transparent, despite his effort to keep it vague? “That’s . . . er, too bad,” he mumbled.

  “It was a problem,” Alice agreed. “But then I reminded him that he was a highly proficient telegrapher. Soon he had conquered the issue. He’s now happily married to that lady.”

  “What does telegraphy have to do with dancing?” Douglas asked, unable to make the connection.

  “When you send a message in Morse code, the rhythm is critical, right? You’ve got to ensure your dots, dashes, and pauses are clearly defined and follow a set pattern. The space between letters is different from the space between words. If you don’t keep that distinction, the message can become garbled. Dancing is similar. All you have to do is find the rhythm—the meter underlying the music. Don’t think of it as trying to attach a particular step to a particular sound; think instead about listening for that underlying pattern and moving with it.”

  “But isn’t that the same thing?”

  She shook her head. “You’ll see the difference if you put this advice into practice.”

  “You seem very sure of yourself on this subject.”

  She laughed. “I have three brothers, all of whom had to be taught to dance. Believe me, if my brothers can learn, anyone can.”

  “So you’re saying you enjoy dancing?” Douglas blurted in amazement. Perhaps it sounded rude, but he would never have pictured this serious-minded woman enjoying such a frivolous pursuit. Especially as she was so determined to remain a spinster. He honestly couldn’t believe that Fred fellow was a serious contender for her affections. Nor any man, for that matter. He thought he would sense somehow if that were the case.

  What was dancing for, if not to woo someone? Douglas couldn’t imagine that anyone did it simply for enjoyment. If a person wanted physical exercise, there were plenty of other pastimes that were far more interesting. Squash or lawn tennis, for example.

  “Oh yes, I love dancing,” Alice said, smiling. “In fact, I feel sorry for people who don’t. I think their main problem is that they put too much pressure on themselves. Either they feel they must be perfect, or the corollary to that: they fear that if they make a mistake, they will lose the regard of someone who would otherwise love them passionately.”

  “That fear might be substantiated,” Douglas said, thinking of Miss Rolland.

  “For silly schoolgirls, perhaps,” Alice answered dismissively. “Or debutantes with their heads in the clouds.”

  “But you were a schoolgirl once,” he persisted.

  “Yes, but I was never a silly one.”

  “I can vouch for that,” Mrs. Bennington interposed.

  “Enough talking!” Hal said. “Let’s get to that dance. Shaw, I believe Miss
McNeil has shown you the way forward. Now all we have to do is give it a go.” He looked at Alice. “I assume you can be talked into showing him how to apply this information?”

  Alice turned to her friend. “Lucy, what do you think? Do we have time to stay?”

  Lucy frowned. “I’ve already given my staff instructions to expect us for tea.”

  “But it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve done something else instead. They are very good at changing course with no notice.”

  She was trying to talk Lucy into staying. Heaven help him, Alice wanted to teach him to dance.

  “I couldn’t impose on you,” Douglas said, trying to hide his panic. She’d put forth an interesting hypothesis, but he wasn’t going to risk making a public fool of himself. He was already kicking himself for taking the chance of coming out to Ally Pally today. “You’ve made other plans, and I can’t allow my friends to derail them. Besides, Mr. Bennington might not wish his wife to be at such an event without him.”

  “He’s out of town,” Alice said.

  “Nevertheless, perhaps another time would be better—”

  “It’s now or never, I expect,” Hal said. “Don’t you want to be ready for—”

  “Hal!” Douglas interrupted sharply. “Wait here,” he told the others, then took Hal’s arm and dragged him out of earshot. “Don’t mention Miss Rolland or that charity ball,” he hissed. “That’s something I wish to keep private.”

  Hal smirked. “I won’t say a word about it. Wouldn’t want to make Miss McNeil jealous.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” Douglas said in exasperation.

  “Look, friend, this sounds like your best chance to get it right before the ball. Miss McNeil clearly wants to stay, and the other lady looks like she can be swayed easily enough.”

  “But I work with her! I can’t be dancing with her.” Douglas felt a measure of alarm over the idea that, if he allowed himself to examine it, was not entirely due to his inability to dance.