Line by Line

by Jennifer Delamere

  He had, to varying degrees, accomplished what he’d come here for. In so many ways, though, it seemed like only the beginning of a long and uncertain road.

  CHAPTER

  Twenty-Two

  Archie picked up a stack of messages he’d received that morning, dropping them onto the typing desk as he headed for the door. As he was going out, he passed Mavis, who was just coming back from her lunch break. “Late again, Miss Waller?” he said with a deprecating smile.

  After he was gone, Mavis huffed to her desk, throwing down her gloves.

  “Don’t pay any mind to that surly windbag,” Alice said, going over to her.

  “Why must he always be so hateful to me?”

  “He’s like that with everyone.”

  Mavis shook her head. “He seems worse than ever lately. Didn’t you have some sort of plan to make him be nicer?”

  Alice grimaced. “Unfortunately, that didn’t work out so well.”

  “I have noticed that things are always, well, tense around the office these days.” Mavis eyed Alice. “Have you taken a disliking to Mr. Shaw for some reason?”

  The question took Alice off guard. “Not at all,” she stammered, looking away. “I can’t think why you should think so.”

  In the week since she and Douglas had talked in front of the building, Alice had strived to keep a cool and professional demeanor, but being around him still unsettled her. Mavis was probably picking up on the fact that Alice and Douglas no longer interacted with the same ease they’d had in the beginning. Regaining it had not been possible. Aside from her own conflicting emotions, there was also the fact that Archie was watching them like a hawk.

  Alice was aware, because she’d overheard Henley speaking to Douglas about it this morning, that Douglas had recently had a successful evening with Miss Rolland. One that included dancing. He must have been able to take what Alice had taught him and apply it effectively. Would he mention it to her? Or did he consider that too sensitive a topic to bring up again?

  Her eyes dropped to the messages Archie had left on Mavis’s desk. She noticed Douglas’s name as the recipient on the top message. She picked it up, not hesitating to read it. After all, it could just as easily have been received by her.

  “Is it something interesting?” Mavis asked.

  Alice found it very interesting. It was from Andrew Carnegie. It appeared Douglas’s meeting with him in Hyde Park was going to pay off. The message stated the days Mr. Carnegie would be available in Liverpool next week. “It’s a request from an American industrialist to meet with Mr. Shaw.”

  “That sounds like it could be good for Henley and Company, doesn’t it?” Mavis said, brightening. This news seemed to make her forget about her trouble with Archie.

  “Yes, it does.” Alice couldn’t help but be elated for Douglas. She remembered with satisfaction that it was her comment about Hyde Park that had ultimately led to this meeting with Carnegie. Since then, Douglas had been working hard to put together proposals for potential deals. Alice had helped with that, too.

  Work had been hard for Alice since the tea dance, it was true. She’d continued daily to wrestle with her heart’s illogical stirrings whenever she was near Douglas, as well as her frustration with a churlish colleague who wished ill on everyone. Yet here was a victory worth celebrating. For this moment, she was proud of her part in it all.

  Douglas walked back to the office after a meeting with Henley and Rolland at their club. The other two men had remained at the club for luncheon, but Douglas had decided to forgo the meal.

  He was glad to get away. He’d been nervous about seeing Rolland again, worried that somehow word of Douglas’s intimate tête-à-tête with his daughter at the ball two nights ago might have reached him. Apparently it had not. Rolland would surely have acted like an outraged father if it had. Instead, he was warm toward Douglas, and the three of them had spent a profitable hour discussing business matters.

  That had eased Douglas’s mind, but then pressure came from a different quarter. Rolland had accompanied Douglas to the door of the club while Henley went to wash up before luncheon.

  “There’s something I think you should know,” Rolland had told him. “Mr. Busfield came to see me yesterday. He wished me to know that he was interested in seriously courting my daughter—with my permission.”

  “And what did you tell him?”

  “I told him I had no objection.”

  “I see.”

  “I also said I’m aware that my daughter has a number of interested admirers. When the time comes—and I imagine it will be soon—I will allow her to make her own choice.” Rolland gave him a penetrating look. “Provided the man in question meets my high standards.”

  “That’s very wise, sir.”

  “I like you, Shaw. I believe my daughter has taken a fancy to you. But I would advise you not to dawdle or try to string her along, or you may find another man has won her over.”

  “Thank you, sir. I will take that under advisement.”

  Even now, as he walked briskly along the street, Douglas could think of a hundred things he ought to have said. Perhaps he ought to have been effusive in his praise of Miss Rolland. But his mind had been scrambling, torn between the need to best his competitor and uncertainty about whether he was doing the right thing. Uncertainty he’d not been able to shake. Uncertainty that Alice had put into his heart.

  He took a slight detour in order to pass the little church park where Alice sometimes ate her lunch. It wasn’t the first time he’d looked for her, although he felt foolish for doing so.

  She wasn’t there. It seemed she’d found someplace else to enjoy her midday meal these days. Could she be purposely avoiding him? Sadly, he knew it was a distinct possibility. Perhaps it was just as well. What could he say to her?

  When he reached the office, he found Alice and Miss Waller having an animated discussion. He loved the way Alice’s face lit up when she was excited about something. He hadn’t seen that look since they’d chatted about that lecture while eating ices. And when she’d smiled up at him during their waltz . . .

  He sent a worried glance toward Archie Clapper’s desk despite knowing that, whatever else that man was, he was no mind reader. Happily, Clapper wasn’t there. Perhaps that was why the women were in such good spirits.

  He gave them a smile as he removed his hat. “Good afternoon, ladies.”

  “Mr. Shaw, there is some exciting news for you!” Miss Waller exclaimed.

  “Congratulations,” Alice added, extending a message to him.

  It was in Clapper’s scrawl, but even so, Douglas grinned as he read it. He’d wondered several times over the past weeks whether Carnegie would make good on his promise to meet with him. Well, here it was—his golden opportunity. Douglas took a deep breath, savoring this moment. All other concerns faded. This was the kind of opportunity he lived for.

  To see Alice smiling at him, sharing his excitement, made him even happier. “Thank you, Miss McNeil. You should be proud of this, too, you know. You had a big hand in it.”

  She gave a modest shake of her head. “You are the one who took the idea and ran with it.”

  “Even so, if you have any other such ideas, please don’t hesitate to share them.”

  She grinned. “I’ll do that.”

  It was a simple exchange, but for Douglas it meant more than words could say. It was a spark of that friendliness they used to have. Perhaps, if he played his cards right, he could keep it.

  “A little locomotive? Your nephew is going to love that,” Rose said, as she weighed the package Alice had brought to the post office in order to ship it to Ancaster in time for Jack Jr.’s birthday. Since Rose worked in a post office rather than a dedicated telegraph facility, she had a variety of customer service tasks, including oversight of the newly established parcel post. “You realize this is setting a dangerous precedent, don’t you?” she added as she began to write up the bill for shipping. “How many nieces and nephews did you
say you have?”

  “Just five. The youngest, little Georgie, is only a baby, so I have time before he expects anything.”

  “Hmm. Don’t be so sure about that. I once worked in a telegraph office attached to a general store. The ladies often came in with their children, and let me assure you that those little tykes always knew exactly what they wanted.” She made a face, rolling her eyes heavenward.

  Alice laughed. “Thank you for the warning. I’ll keep that in mind. How much do I owe you?”

  “Advice is always free,” Rose said with a wink. “The parcel post is a little more.” She turned the bill, which had the fees totaled at the bottom, toward Alice. “Sign here,” she indicated.

  Alice signed the bill, then pulled open her reticule to search for the coins she needed.

  “Emma told me she saw you at the park last week,” Rose said.

  Alice looked up in time to see a knowing smile creeping onto Rose’s face. Drat. “What else did she tell you?”

  “You know the dear girl can’t keep a secret. She said you’ve been having men trouble.”

  Alice sent a quick look around, worried other customers might be within earshot. There was only an older gentleman standing at another counter, looking up information in the large book of postal and telegraphic addresses that was kept there. Turning back to Rose, Alice whispered, “Are those your words or hers?”

  Rose answered with a shrug. “Emma was doing her best not to say too much, as apparently you’d sworn her to secrecy.” She said this with a chastising look. “She also said you weren’t too forthcoming on the details. Something about that spinster book. Is that Fred fellow still madly in love with you? Has he proposed yet?”

  “What? No! He’s overseas at the moment. He—” Alice stopped midsentence. As she pulled out her money, the note from Fred came with it. It had lain crumpled in her bag ever since the night of the tea dance. She looked down at it, her embarrassment rising. “He, er, wrote me a letter.”

  “He did?” Rose’s gaze landed on the letter, now lying on the counter along with Alice’s coins. “What did he say?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t been able to bring myself to read it.”

  Rose looked at her in astonishment. “You’re joking.” She picked up the letter. “Suppose I read it for you and let you know if there’s anything devastatingly awful.”

  Alice nodded. Maybe it would be good to read it with a friend. She glanced back at the other customer. He’d found the address he was looking for and was now filling out a telegram order form. It wouldn’t be long before he approached Rose to request sending it. “We’ll have to hurry, though.”

  Rose opened the note, scanned it, and gave a little smirk before quietly reading it aloud.

  “Dear Alice,

  “Please excuse my forwardness in writing to you directly. I feel that, as we have known each other for such a long time, it won’t be unforgivable if I send you my personal greetings.

  “My new position as cargo master is turning out to be rewarding in every way, if I may say so without boasting. My cabin is right comfortable. Not as large as the captain’s, of course, but with three portholes to let in plenty of light and roomy enough that even two people could move about easily.

  “We have reached India and are now loading up with goods to bring back. I am diligently ensuring that every last crate is accounted for. By all indicators (God willing), it will be a profitable voyage. I shall soon be able to set up a nice home for me and my future wife, whom I hope to be blessed with at some day in the not-too-distant future.

  “I hope you are kindly thinking of me.

  “Your good friend,

  “Fred Arbuckle.”

  Alice gave a little sigh of relief. That didn’t sound too bad. Or at least, it could have been worse.

  But Rose said, “He practically proposed to you!”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “It’s all here—he’s got the money to support you, a nice house, and even a ship’s cabin large enough for two!” She gave a suggestive raise of her eyebrows. “Does he know you have a hankering for travel?”

  “I might have mentioned it,” Alice mumbled with chagrin.

  “When does he return?”

  “A few weeks, I think.”

  “You’d do well to prepare your answer for when he proposes in person, so you can let him down gently. You are planning to say no, I suppose?”

  Alice glared her reply, to which Rose only laughed. She handed back the letter, and Alice stuffed it once more into her reticule.

  Rose scooped up the money and took it to the till. She returned to give Alice the change just as the other customer approached. Because of his presence, they had to keep the rest of their conversation short and formal.

  “Thank you for your help,” Alice said.

  “My pleasure,” Rose replied.

  The glint in her eye was unmistakable. She clearly found the whole situation with Fred amusing. Alice could only berate herself for the hundredth time for having ever bought that spinster book.

  CHAPTER

  Twenty-Three

  The meeting with Carnegie was going well, if not entirely as Douglas had envisioned. He’d laid out his proposal for a deal to transport grain from Oregon to New York via one of the railways in which Carnegie had a controlling interest. He pointed out the financial advantages to all parties. Carnegie had listened attentively and asked detailed questions.

  They were just finishing luncheon at one of the finer restaurants in Liverpool. Carnegie had declined to meet Douglas at the Liverpool office of Henley and Company, stating that he was still officially on holiday and thought this would be a more agreeable place to chat. It certainly was the most elegant restaurant Douglas had ever been in. The food and the service had been outstanding. He could see that Carnegie took pleasure in enjoying the finer things in life, and he could admire him for that. Such luxuries required money, of course, which was why Douglas was here.

  “As you can see, this is a very lucrative opportunity,” Douglas said. “It would be foolish not to capitalize on it.”

  “So you have pointed out quite vigorously, Mr. Shaw.” Carnegie smiled as he touched his napkin to his lips.

  Perhaps Douglas had overstepped, due to his eagerness? “I can’t help but be excited about it, naturally,” he replied. “I’m sure you see all the reasons why.”

  “Yes, indeed.” Carnegie returned his napkin to his lap. “Oh, by the way, did I mention that our party spent two days in Glasgow on the way here from Inverness? By then we had given up our coach-and-four and were traveling on public transport. Sailing up the Clyde from Greenock was quite pleasurable. In Glasgow we stayed at the Central Hotel. Are you familiar with it?”

  Douglas nodded, surprised Carnegie had taken the conversation in this direction. “It was my first glimpse of the privileges of wealth—even if I was only seeing it as a messenger boy delivering telegrams. It made me determined that one day I would be able to afford such things. And here I am.” He motioned to the ornate dining room where they sat.

  “Yes, here you are,” Carnegie agreed pleasantly. “You mentioned earlier that your parents are still in Glasgow. Do you get there often?”

  “When I can.” The answer was hedging a little. Douglas in fact went there as little as possible.

  “And you offer them financial support, I suppose?”

  “To the extent they will accept it. They are proud. Especially my father.” Douglas was beginning to feel uncomfortable with this line of questioning.

  Carnegie leaned back in his chair, toying with his glass as he gave Douglas a long, assessing look. “Mr. Shaw, might I offer a word of advice?”

  “Certainly. I’m all ears.” If they were getting back to business, Douglas was eager to pick up any pearls of wisdom the millionaire might offer.

  Carnegie pushed back from the table. “Perhaps we could take a walk? It aids digestion to walk after a meal, and I’d love to get a better look at the sh
ipyards.”

  Douglas obliged, rising from the table with him. He wasn’t sure how well they could discuss business if they were walking around a busy port, but he wasn’t about to second-guess this man, who clearly knew what he was doing.

  They left the restaurant and walked toward the wharfs. The day was cloudy and the breeze was high, which kept the temperature comfortable.

  Once they were within sight of the ships, Carnegie spoke again. “I think you have gleaned by now that anything I engage in, I do it wholeheartedly. I push myself to be involved in every aspect of the work that I possibly can.”

  “Yes, sir, I know, and I greatly admire you for it. Your talent for business, and the way you have risen from humble beginnings to where you are now . . . it is an inspiration.”

  “That’s kind of you to say. I only hope I can inspire people in the right way.”

  Douglas shook his head, not following Carnegie’s meaning. “How so?”

  Carnegie paused and turned, meeting Douglas’s gaze. “Throughout our conversation today, I noticed your emphasis on pursuing certain business deals primarily because of the financial profit.”

  Carnegie spoke as if there were something wrong with that view. Douglas shook his head again. “Surely this is the goal of all men of business?”

  “To varying degrees, I suppose. However, I will warn you right now that you will be a lot happier in the long run if you understand that simply acquiring wealth is not the be-all and end-all in life.”

  “I don’t believe I ever said that.”

  “Perhaps not expressly. But the idea seems to underlie your words and actions.”

  Douglas wanted to voice an objection. Did this have something to do with the questions about his parents? It wasn’t as though he hadn’t tried to improve their lot. It was part of why he was driving himself. With his father unable to work, they would be destitute without his help. But Carnegie’s piercing gaze seemed to charge him to consider his words carefully before speaking.

  “I believe the drive to amass wealth can be one of the worst kinds of idolatry,” Carnegie continued. “No idol is more debasing than the worship of money. If a person is going to spend so much of their life’s blood and sweat on something, it should be something that is elevating in character.”