Line by Line

by Jennifer Delamere

  Holding firmly to this resolve, Alice got up and prepared for bed. She’d been soundly shaken, but she would recover.

  CHAPTER

  Nineteen

  Alice’s steps slowed as she approached her workplace on Monday morning. Today she could not muster her usual enthusiasm. Despite her resolutions, the effects of Saturday’s events had been hard to shake. She was still nervous about seeing Douglas again, worried about keeping her professionalism firmly in place, and dreading her next encounter with Archie.

  As she entered the building, she saw Mavis by the stairs on the opposite side of the lobby, having a quiet chat with the clerk from the insurance company. They were standing very close, and Mavis was looking up at him in a way that told Alice the clerk had a greater chance of winning her heart than Alice had initially surmised.

  Averting her gaze from the couple, Alice went into the office. She noticed that neither Mr. Henley nor Douglas had yet arrived. Perhaps that was why Mavis felt emboldened to spend a few extra minutes with the clerk.

  Alice got to work. There were several messages on her desk, waiting to be encoded and sent. She picked one up and read it, sighing at the sight of Douglas’s now-familiar handwriting. She knew that, driven as he was, he often worked outside of normal business hours. It was likely he’d been working on Saturday morning and left these messages before the two of them met for the lecture.

  Mavis came in a few minutes later, her eyes shining with happiness. Alice pretended to be absorbed in her task in order to discourage conversation. She couldn’t bear the idea just now of listening to Mavis’s romantic chatter. After another minute or so, she heard the clickety-clack of the typewriter, indicating Mavis had settled into her work.

  Over the next half hour, Alice dragged out what little work she had, trying to focus on anything except Archie’s impending arrival. She could not guess whether he would conduct their future interactions with anger or with his patented brand of deprecating remarks. Either way, it would not be pleasant. There was nothing he liked better than having excuses to be snide—and Alice had provided him with more than enough.

  Archie was not the next person to enter the office, however. Alice knew the moment Douglas stepped through the door. She felt it in every cell of her body, long before she heard Mavis’s chipper, “Good morning, Mr. Shaw!”

  She could feel him looking at her, too. She was certain she was the first person his gaze had sought as he’d come through the door. But she kept her eyes on her work.

  She desperately wished she had some telegram to send or that the sounder would announce an incoming message! She didn’t even have the option of pretending to be transmitting a work message while really sending a friendly greeting to Rose. It wasn’t unusual for telegraphers to chat over the wires during slow periods. But Douglas, understanding Morse code by ear, would know what she was doing.

  With no other options, Alice settled for picking up a few messages that had come in earlier, intending to take them to Mavis. They were not critical, and Mavis had other work to do at the moment, but it was the best excuse Alice could come up with. She was embarrassed that she was trying so hard to avoid talking with Douglas. It was an indication of how much she was still bothered by what had happened. A sign of foolishness and weakness. But it was either that or risk showing the real emotions she was trying to suppress.

  She stood up, messages in hand, and began walking toward Mavis, but Douglas went out of his normal route to his office in order to intercept her.

  “Good morning, Miss McNeil. How are you?” He smiled at her in the casual, easy way he always had. Alice thought she could spot tension in his eyes, but nothing that marred how handsome he was. Nothing to prevent the way her heart sped up, especially now that she knew his kisses surpassed even his looks. Nothing to indicate he had lost any sleep over a stray kiss.

  “I am tolerably well, thank you.” She tried to brush past him.

  He moved again into her path. “How was your weekend? Did you have an opportunity to read more of Maxwell’s book on electricity?”

  Was he flirting with her? He wasn’t aware that Alice knew about Miss Rolland. Maybe he was the sort to pursue two women at once. That roused her anger—but not jealous anger, she insisted to herself. More like intense disappointment. She wanted to think better of him.

  They had agreed not to discuss the weekend’s events at the office, so how did he expect her to respond? She decided she could be forgiven for throwing him a look of utter disbelief, as if he’d just asked whether she could confirm the moon was made of green cheese. If he truly thought nothing had changed between them, she could add insensitivity to his list of offences. “I’m afraid I didn’t have time. I had other commitments, although I’m sure I would have found more enjoyment reading that book.” It came out frosty and hard. He frowned, looking at her in obvious surprise.

  This time he didn’t stop her as she continued to Mavis’s desk and handed over the telegrams for typing.

  “I had some time, so I’ve already decoded these for you,” Alice told her.

  “Thank you, that’s very kind,” Mavis replied. She attempted a smile, but Alice could see she was troubled. She had to have noticed the tension between Alice and Douglas.

  “Miss McNeil, I wonder if I might have a word with you in my office?” Douglas said, his voice now curt and businesslike.

  This was the very last thing Alice wanted to do. Especially as Mavis was still watching them with concerned interest. A private chat in Douglas’s office would only fuel her curiosity and speculation. That was something Alice had specifically hoped to avoid when she’d asked Douglas not to talk about this at work. He seemed to have decided not to keep that promise.

  Unfortunately, she had no choice in the matter. Douglas had spoken in a manner that did not allow for refusal. He motioned her toward his office, and she reluctantly complied.

  Douglas had seen Alice glance at Miss Waller before following him to his office, and he’d seen the typist’s troubled look in return. Had Alice told her what happened? Douglas couldn’t think of a worse thing she could do. Why had he not considered any of these possibilities when he’d casually invited himself to join Alice at that lecture? Why hadn’t he listened to the voice warning him that Hal would find him, even among so many people?

  Self-recrimination did no good, however. Here they were. He thought they had ended the evening on a reasonably good note. Apparently he’d been wrong. She was clearly upset. He’d thought they had an understanding to forget what had happened and move ahead. That had turned out to be an immensely tall order. He’d spent every waking moment preparing his mind to accomplish it. Now he wasn’t sure what she expected of him.

  He closed the door and turned to face Alice. “Miss McNeil, I hate to think the events of the weekend are still troubling you.”

  She stared him down. “What makes you think I’m troubled about it?”

  “How about that thinly veiled insult out there?” Frustration sharpened his words.

  Something that might have been guilt flickered briefly in her eyes, but she didn’t answer. He could imagine she was mentally falling back to reload a fresh round of biting remarks. Douglas didn’t want to continue on that way. He might never be able to tell this woman how he felt about her, but he was going to do all he could to keep their relationship on good terms. If that was even possible. He hoped with all his might that it was.

  Aiming for a more neutral tone, he said, “When we parted, I had the impression we agreed to put that incident behind us.”

  “And I believe we agreed not to talk about it at the office,” Alice hissed. “Do you want to risk the gossip and possible damage to our reputations by asking me in here?”

  “We’ve had many conversations in my office before,” Douglas pointed out.

  “About business matters!”

  “No one will know the difference with the door closed. Although they might start guessing, based on how you were acting out there a moment ago.”


  She took in a breath. “I’m sorry, Mr. Shaw, but I’m finding it very difficult to act as if nothing has changed. What I don’t understand is how it is so easy for you to do so. It seems very”—she paused just long enough to clench her fists—“callous.”

  Yes, he had been wrong. Very wrong.

  She’d been so adamant about remaining single that Douglas had spent hours convincing himself that was what she truly wanted. He thought she had been better at walking away from that kiss than he had been. She hadn’t. Without meaning to, he’d found a vulnerable spot in her heart. What was he to make of that? He tried to reconsider his position, but it was impossible to do on the fly while she was staring at him with hurt and anger.

  He swallowed, wondering how in the world he was going to make this right. “You have every reason to think me a heartless cad, and I’m truly sorry. If it’s any consolation, I never intended to take advantage of you. I was beyond thrilled at how you’d helped me understand dancing, and, well . . .”

  You were irresistible.

  No, he couldn’t say that. Not now. It must have somehow shown in the way he was looking at her, though, because she softened—ever so slightly—as though tempted to melt into his gaze.

  Clearing his throat, he took a step back. “It was a mistake, you see. The way you turned your head at that precise moment—well, it took me by surprise, and—”

  She stiffened, all trace of vulnerability disappearing. “You needn’t make excuses for kissing me by mistake. I’m quite sure we both regret the action.”

  She spoke with utter distaste. Surely it was a cover for hurt pride? Douglas had always prided himself on being an expert at dealing with people, but that was in business. Clearly he had no idea how to talk to women. Now he’d insulted her, when that was the last thing he wanted to do. He shook his head in agitation. “That’s not what I—”

  Alice put up a hand to stop him. “As I said, there’s no need for further apologies. We have both agreed that we must put this behind us. However, I must request that you not ask to speak to me privately again. Mr. Clapper has seen us together outside of work. If we are seen going alone into your office, there will be gossip. He’ll make sure of it.”

  “I won’t allow that contemptible man to dictate my actions!” Douglas had always disliked Clapper, and now his loathing was unmeasurable.

  “I am leaving now,” Alice said coolly. “But I have one more thing to ask before I go. You didn’t want me to know about Miss Rolland, did you? You kept trying to stop Hal from mentioning her. But Mamie must not have gotten the word about keeping quiet, because she relayed all the information to Lucy.”

  So that was it. Now Douglas understood why her attitude toward him had changed so drastically. But her response only confused him more. “Are you jealous? That doesn’t mesh with your insistence that you want us to be nothing more than work colleagues.”

  He regretted the words the moment he spoke them. He saw real pain in her eyes now. Had she begun to care for him? Whatever her feelings, he seemed an expert at trampling on them.

  Alice sucked in a breath. “You’re right, Mr. Shaw. Why you did not wish to discuss Miss Rolland is absolutely none of my business. It is my fault for allowing emotions to direct my words instead of common sense. I won’t allow it to happen again.”

  With that, she turned on her heel and stalked out, pulling the door shut behind her with such force that it was only marginally short of an angry slam.

  Alice pulled up short just outside Douglas’s office. Mavis was staring at her in alarm, her fingers poised above the typewriter keys.

  Also observing Alice carefully, albeit with a completely different expression, was Archie Clapper. He was early again, as though he couldn’t wait to begin tormenting her about Saturday.

  He leaned back in his chair and gave her the look—a half smile, half sneer—that always rankled her. “What’s the matter, Miss McNeil? Did you and Shaw have a lovers’ spat?”

  Alice walked toward her desk. “Your twisted imagination is working overtime again, Mr. Clapper. I’ll thank you to keep your rude comments to yourself.”

  This wasn’t how she’d wanted this conversation to go. She had even considered offering an apology of some sort, although she knew the mix-up had not been her fault. Now she could see that approach was out of the question. She returned his look with a dark stare, wanting him to back off, then took her seat at her desk.

  Archie being Archie, her blunt retort did nothing to remove the superior expression from his face. “I know what you’re after, Miss McNeil. But I think you should know that he’s merely toying with you. It’s no use setting your cap at him. He’ll never be within reach of a mere telegraph operator. He’s chasing loftier game—the daughter of one of Mr. Henley’s cronies. It’s one of those alliances where everyone comes out richer.”

  “I’m well aware of that, thank you. Not that it is any business of ours,” she added pointedly. “Nor does it matter one bit to me. I’ve no intention of ‘setting my cap’ at anyone.” Alice shuddered. She hated that phrase.

  “You could have fooled me, the way you’ve been making eyes at him and, well, everything else.”

  Alice glared at him. “Are you referring to something in particular, or are you merely indulging in your usual coarse insinuations?”

  It was a rebuke, but it was also a question she truly wanted the answer to. She had a lingering fear that Archie had seen her dancing with Douglas—or worse, their kiss. She’d seen no sign of him at the dance, but she suspected Archie could be adept at lurking in the shadows if it suited his purpose.

  Archie allowed her comment to bounce off him, his skin as thick as an elephant’s. He fiddled with the pencils on his desk as he gave her a self-satisfied smile. “It’s rather ironic, really, seeing as how his origins are lower than yours. Do you know Shaw’s father couldn’t even read? Just one of the ignorant louts who work in the shipyards by the legions.”

  “Don’t be insulting, Mr. Clapper.”

  “It’s true! Just ask him. Although you may have to pry it out of him. He’s rather loath to talk about his family, as you might imagine.” He tapped one of the pencils on his desk. “Now I, on the other hand . . .” He pointed his pencil at himself for emphasis. “I’ve got a fine family lineage. We can trace at least one branch back to the Domesday book. That’s what really matters, you know.”

  “Perhaps Mr. Shaw doesn’t care about such things.” Despite all that had happened, Alice still found herself coming to Douglas’s defense. She realized now that he’d said very little about his background, though he’d asked plenty of questions about hers. Maybe he was ashamed about coming from the lower class. Maybe he was trying to hide it, believing that if those details were known, it would hinder his acceptance into society. But unlike Archie, she was going to give Douglas the benefit of the doubt. “Perhaps Mr. Shaw doesn’t talk about his family because he understands that in this day and age, what matters more is hard work and industry.”

  “Yes, I’m sure that’s it,” Archie drawled. “If one defines ‘industry’ as the need to marry a dim-witted debutante to seal one’s success.”

  There wasn’t much Alice could say to that. She dismissed the underlying misogyny in the phrase dim-witted debutante, as Archie would immediately assume the worst about any woman. It was doubtful he had any personal knowledge of Miss Rolland. For all either of them knew, she was clever and sophisticated, and surely well bred. What bothered Alice, though she’d tried not to give credence to it, was the idea that Douglas could be the kind of adventurer she considered to be the very worst.

  Douglas’s plan was far from novel, of course. It had been the English way for centuries. Even so, Alice realized she’d been nurturing the idea that Douglas was above that kind of coldhearted calculation, where an offer of marriage was no more than a business deal. He took a great deal of pride in having advanced in life on his own merits, not beholden to anyone. If he aligned himself with someone for the sake of a
large dowry and social position, those benefits would surely come with a father-in-law who would expect Douglas to do his bidding in return. It just didn’t fit what she had seen of him. Had she been mistaken, perhaps blinded by his good looks, intelligence, and business acumen? Such things could easily turn the head of anyone. Even sensible-minded me, she thought ruefully.

  Whatever the case, right now Alice wanted nothing more than to wipe the supercilious smile off Archie’s face. He’d dropped an unintentional clue when he’d said that at least one branch of his family history was illustrious. She would lay odds that he came from the branch that didn’t stem from greatness. Otherwise, why would he be working as a telegraph clerk? It was a respectable occupation, and one Alice was proud to call her own, but it was far from lofty.

  “Is that why you don’t put forth the slightest effort to improve your own situation, Mr. Clapper? The mere fact of having worthy ancestors makes you content to toil away in an office, expending the most fair-to-middling effort possible?”

  This remark brought a flash of anger to Archie’s eyes. She braced for an onslaught—which, to be honest, she probably deserved. What she’d said might be true, but it had been rude to say it. Sucking in a breath, she charged herself to stop allowing Archie to bring her down to his level.

  Surprisingly, though, Archie’s irritating smile returned. He smoothed back his hair and shrugged. “Mere conservation of effort, Miss McNeil. Why beat myself up in the impossible task of trying to get ahead, when in the end it all comes down to who your relations are?” Tossing his pencil on his desk, he leaned back in his chair. “I’ve got a proper inheritance coming soon, when my wealthy old aunt finally passes on to that realm where she no longer needs it. I’m simply biding my time. In the meantime, I’ve got a tidy little stipend that keeps me from having to pinch my pennies until they scream—as I suppose other people who work at this job must do.”