A Dangerous Engagement

by Ashley Weaver

  I looked up at him. “Why do you say that?”

  “I can tell,” Milo replied. “Anyway, he’s the sort of man that women are drawn to. Absolute bounders with flashing eyes and sardonic smiles.”

  “He has a certain sort of charm,” I admitted. “Besides, you of all people can’t fault a man for being handsome and mischievous.”

  Milo could not deny it, for he knew perfectly well that a reputation for immorality had drawn a good deal of women to him in his day. There was something very exhilarating about that little dance one did with a man with bad intentions.

  He pulled back the blankets and got into bed beside me.

  “Mr. Alden interests me far more than Mr. Palmer.”

  “Oh?” I asked, moving closer to him for warmth and beginning to feel a soft haziness fall over my senses. It felt wonderful to be lying in a bed that didn’t move to and fro as I tried to rest.

  “Yes, we had quite a long talk over drinks. He was telling me about his business, which I expected to be dull, but it’s actually rather interesting.”

  “Really?” The question was practically all polite reflex, for I was having a very difficult time keeping my eyes open as I settled against him and his arm moved over me.

  “Yes, he’s in shipping, and has come up with some promising new ideas for expanding into other…”

  I don’t remember what he said next, for I had already drifted off to sleep.

  4

  THE NEXT MORNING dawned bright and sunny, and, though I awoke early, I felt much more rested than I had the day before. I was also rather looking forward to breakfast since, as excellent as last night’s dinner had been, I was feeling quite hungry and eager to make up for the missed meals on our voyage.

  Milo was still asleep and likely wouldn’t rise for some time, so I slipped quietly from the bed and readied myself for the day. I chose a becoming dress in a pattern of dark blue flowers on a lighter blue background. A light blue hat with a navy-colored ribbon would complete the ensemble when we went out for the day.

  I went down to breakfast and found that the only other occupant of the breakfast room was Mr. Alden. He set aside his newspaper when I came in and made a move to rise from his chair.

  “Good morning, Amory.”

  “Please sit down, Mr. Alden,” I said, waving him back into his seat before moving to the sideboard to fill a breakfast plate from the abundance of hot food laid before me. Everything looked and smelled delicious.

  “Did you sleep well?” Mr. Alden asked.

  “Oh, yes. Very well,” I said as I scooped a helping of fruit onto my plate. “I must thank you again for allowing Mr. Ames and me to stay with you. I told Tabitha that I didn’t wish to be an imposition.”

  “Not at all,” he said. “I’m glad for her to have a friend here as the wedding approaches. It’s been difficult for her without her mother, and I expect an old man isn’t much help along these lines.”

  “I’m sorry Tabitha’s mother isn’t here to see her wedding,” I said as I returned to the table and took my seat. “She would have loved it.” I had pleasant memories of the late Mrs. Alden, and I knew that she had loved Tabitha dearly and would be very proud of the woman her daughter had become.

  “Yes. She was a wonderful woman. Tabitha is a lot like her in many ways.”

  It seemed to me his eyes misted slightly, and he changed the subject.

  “What do you girls have planned for today?”

  “A fitting for the bridesmaid dresses, I think.”

  “I’m sure Tabitha will keep you busy, but I hope you have some time to see the city.”

  “I hope so, too. It’s been some time since I’ve had the chance to explore it.” We talked then for a while about New York and how it differed from London. As Mr. Alden had mentioned the previous evening, he hadn’t been back to England in many years, due to the pressures of expanding his new business. His dedication was apparent, and I could see how he had made a success of it.

  When we had finished eating, he pushed his plate away and stood.

  “Will you come with me to my office for a moment? I’d like your opinion on something, and it’s just as well I do it when Tabitha isn’t around.”

  “Certainly,” I said, curious.

  We went from the dining room and down the long hallway, past the drawing room, and stopped before a solid oak door.

  “Here we are,” he said, pulling a key from his pocket.

  I wondered fleetingly why he kept the door locked, but I supposed that there were business records and other items of a confidential nature.

  The room was paneled in dark wood, with rows of bookshelves lined with leather-bound volumes. There was a large fireplace, above which rested a pair of polished hunting rifles, and a scattering of dark red leather chairs matched the heavy brocade drapes that hung over the windows. The paintings on the walls, depicting English hunting scenes, were of good quality, unless I was much mistaken.

  It was very much a gentleman’s room. And yet I would not have minded spending an evening there myself, drinking a cup of tea before a roaring fire and browsing one of the antiquarian volumes.

  Mr. Alden had made his way behind his desk and reached into his waistcoat pocket to remove a smaller key than the one with which he had opened the office door. He fitted it into one of the drawers and pulled it open.

  “I’m trying to choose a wedding gift for Tabitha,” he said, leaning to reach into the drawer. “I had these sent over, but I’m trying to decide which she would like best. I thought that you, being a woman of excellent taste, might be able to give me your opinion on the matter.”

  “I should be happy to,” I said, wondering what it was that he was going to take out of the drawer.

  He pulled out a velvet jewelry box, then another, then one more. He laid them out on the surface of his desk. He opened each one in turn, spinning it to face me on the polished wooden surface.

  I drew in a breath. Each box contained a startlingly brilliant necklace, glittering with jewels. I could see now why he kept his office locked. The combined value of these pieces must have been a fortune.

  “They’re exquisite,” I said.

  “Yes, aren’t they,” he replied, though clearly he was not as awed as I was by the extravagance of the jewels displayed before us on the desk like so many costume baubles.

  “I told the jeweler I wanted something a bit extravagant, and I narrowed it down to these three, but now I’m at a loss. What’s your opinion?”

  I stepped closer. The first box held a necklace awash in shimmering diamonds set in an intricate pattern of loops and swirls. The second was a necklace of sapphires, a thin line of them that would encircle the neck and then hang down the chest in a long strip of vibrant blue gems. The third was a set of perfectly matched pearls.

  “Pearls are always lovely for a wedding,” I said.

  “I was thinking along those lines,” he said, the tips of his fingers on the box, turning it around to face him. “Though pearls aren’t the most exciting of gems.”

  “They’re less flashy, perhaps, but there’s something quietly elegant about them.”

  He looked up at me then back down at the box, his expression growing soft. “I haven’t thought of that phrase in a long time. ‘Quietly elegant.’ Someone said that about my wife once, and I thought it was the perfect phrase to describe her.”

  “I always remember how graceful she was,” I said, recalling the image of Tabitha’s mother from some long-ago dinner party. Tabitha and I had been young girls, watching the dinner over the bannister.

  “I want Tabitha to have all the things that her mother would have wanted for her. I’ve made it my business to see that she has the life she deserves. I would do anything to make her happy.”

  “You’ve given her a wonderful life, Mr. Alden, and I’m sure she has been very happy, indeed.”

  He smiled. “I hope so.”

  He went about closing up the jewelry cases then and putting them back in the d
rawer of his desk. It seemed a very careless way to store such a large amount of expensive jewelry, but I supposed it was not so much of a risk if he could afford to replace them.

  “The pearls it is, then,” he said when they were carefully stored, the drawer locked.

  “Tabitha is going to love them.”

  “Yes, I think you’re right. Thank you for your help, Mrs. Ames.”

  * * *

  I WALKED BACK toward the stairs, lost in thought. How was it that Mr. Alden could afford such jewelry? Not only that, the necklace was to be given to Tabitha in addition to the flat he had provided for the couple once they wed. I was not sure which gift might be more expensive. It was none of my concern, of course, but I couldn’t help but wonder how, after having lost a great deal of money only a few years ago, he had suddenly come to be so extravagantly wealthy.

  I supposed the shipping business had been good, but this answer didn’t quite satisfy me. I did hope the family wasn’t going into debt. I liked to think that Mr. Alden would be more responsible than that. I had always had the impression that he was a very shrewd gentleman, and I felt certain that, having faced financial difficulties once before, he wouldn’t get himself into any more such trouble.

  I had just reached the foyer when I came across Tabitha on the telephone. Her back was to me, but I couldn’t help but overhear her words.

  “You can’t,” she said in a hushed whisper. “I’ve told you not to press him on this. Do you hear me, Grant? He’s not going to do it.”

  She paused for a moment, apparently listening to something he said, and then she shook her head vehemently, as though he could see her through the wires.

  “You won’t drag him into this. I won’t let you. He’s worked too hard for everything he has. If you push him, you’ll have me to deal with!”

  With that, she slammed the telephone down on the receiver.

  I made a slight movement then, to alert her to my presence, and she turned. The lingering expression on her face was one of worry and something more—anger. It cleared quickly when she saw me, and she came over to me with a smile.

  She was wearing a lovely marigold-colored dress that would’ve looked ghastly on me but complemented her sunny complexion. She looked very young and pretty, but when her eyes met mine they were still troubled.

  “Oh, Amory. Good morning.”

  “Good morning. Going to breakfast?”

  “Yes, I think so. I … that is…” She stopped and stood there, as though debating something, and I waited for her to decide whether she wanted to confide in me.

  “Is anything wrong?” I asked at last.

  “Not exactly. But … As I said last night, there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.” Her tone was casual, but I could sense that there was a weight behind the words.

  “Of course,” I said. “Do you want to talk now?”

  “Yes, but…” She glanced down the hall, though it was perfectly clear that we were alone. “Is your room empty?”

  “Milo’s still sleeping, I’m afraid.”

  “Then let’s go to my bedroom.”

  “All right.” I followed her up the stairs and down the hallway to her room, wondering what it might be that she wanted to discuss. Was whatever she had been about to tell me last night connected in some way with the conversation she had just had with Grant Palmer? From what I had heard, it sounded as though Mr. Palmer was trying to pull Tom into some kind of underhanded scheme. Did it have to do with the illegal activities and bootlegging connections Tabitha had mentioned? If so, I didn’t know how exactly I would be able to help.

  I found, however, the idea that she might want to discuss Grant Palmer’s influence on Tom preferable to the idea that she and Tom might be having some sort of difficulty in their relationship about which she wanted to ask my advice. I felt better equipped to counsel her on criminal matters than on matrimonial ones, for I was still learning to navigate marriage myself, even after six years of it.

  We reached her bedroom, and we went inside. It was a lovely room, done up in pastels and florals, with bright sunlight pouring in through white lace curtains. The configuration was much the same as in my room, with the window overlooking the park across the street and an arrangement of furniture before the fireplace, and Tabitha led me to a pair of pale pink chairs.

  We sat, and she clutched her hands in her lap. Whatever this was, she viewed it as something serious. Tabitha was not the sort of woman who fretted about things. She was direct and forthcoming, so this pensiveness was unlike her.

  “Now, what is it you want to discuss?” I asked.

  She gave me a weak smile. “I’ve had something on my mind. I wanted to talk to you about it last night, but I lost my nerve. I suppose you’re going to think I’m very silly.”

  “I’m sure I shan’t think any such thing.”

  She opened her mouth as if to speak and then closed it again. I could tell she was weighing her words, deciding what she wanted to say.

  “You may say anything you like to me, Tabitha,” I encouraged. I knew it had been a while since we had spent any time together, but I had always felt that our friendship had remained strong through our letters and I hoped that she would feel able to confide in me.

  The words came out in a rush. “I think Dad’s in some sort of trouble.”

  This was not what I had expected her to say. Mr. Alden had seemed relaxed and genial since we had arrived. I was usually fairly adept at reading people, and I had seen no indication that there was anything troubling Tabitha’s father, especially not this morning when he had eagerly showed me the jewelry he meant to give her. Of course, I realized that appearances could be deceiving, and the worries about the source of his newfound wealth still hovered in the back of my mind.

  “What sort of trouble?”

  “I don’t really know how to explain it.” She paused, and I waited, giving her a chance to collect her thoughts. “He’s been different lately. There’s something going on that he’s not telling me. I don’t know if it has to do with business or something else, but he’s keeping things from me. I can tell.”

  I remembered suddenly that Milo had been saying something about Mr. Alden’s business before I had fallen asleep. What had he said? I had been too delirious with sleepiness to pay attention. I would have to ask him about it.

  “That may not be cause for alarm,” I said carefully. Though I wasn’t sure how to phrase it, I realized that this was not, in itself, anything unusual. I imagined a great many parents kept things from their children.

  Tabitha seemed to realize this, for she went ahead. “What I mean is, he’s been secretive in a way that he never used to be. It’s been just the two of us since Mum died. We’ve always been partners in everything. We’ve been closer than most fathers and daughters; we’ve been almost more like friends. But lately there’s been something on his mind. He’s been preoccupied, worried. Whenever I ask him about it, he smiles or pats my hand and tells me not to fret. That only makes me worry more.”

  “Perhaps it’s the wedding that’s preoccupying him,” I suggested. “Things are going to be different for him when you marry Tom and move out of the house. He may be feeling melancholy but doesn’t want to tell you and upset you.”

  “Yes, I considered that,” she said. “I thought maybe he was just going to be lonely. But that was before these strange things started happening.”

  I looked over at her. “‘Strange things’? Is that the vandalism Mr. Elliot mentioned last night?”

  “That’s part of it. There have been some break-ins down at Dad’s warehouses. It’s not entirely out of the ordinary. These are difficult times, and a lot of people have been driven to desperate measures. But there have been other things.”

  “What sort of things?” I was becoming curious now.

  “For one thing, he keeps having visitors late at night. At first I thought I was imagining it, but then I began to watch out my window. A car would pull up to the curb and a person—so
metimes two—would get out and come up to the house.”

  “Did you recognize them?”

  She shook her head. “The angle is wrong, and I could never see their faces. Once I went down the hallway and crept to the top of the stairs, but by the time I got there whoever it was had disappeared into Dad’s study.”

  Suddenly everything seemed to click together in my mind.

  “Tabitha,” I said, trying to think of the best way to phrase it. “You don’t think your father might be involved in bootlegging?”

  She looked up in surprise then gave a laugh. “Oh, no. I’m sure he’s not involved in anything like that.”

  I thought perhaps she was being naïve. It seemed to me that it was the best way to make sense of his mysterious behavior and the influx of wealth.

  “But it would explain the things you’ve told me.”

  “Yes, but … You see, Grant’s been trying to pull Dad in that direction.” So now we had come around to the subject of her morning telephone conversation. It wasn’t Tom she had been defending, but her father.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s been trying to get Dad involved in some sort of shady business deal. He talked about it with Dad once in front of me, and he called this morning, insinuating that there was something he needed to talk to Dad about. It makes me so mad. Dad has refused so far, of course, but I worry about him getting drawn in by the promise of surefire success.”

  “Your father doesn’t seem especially fond of Mr. Palmer.”

  “But Grant’s persuasive.” Her jaw set. “I won’t allow it, though. I won’t let him get Dad into trouble.”

  “I’m sure your father knows what he’s doing, Tabitha,” I said by way of reassurance. “He appears to be very successful.”

  “That’s just it. I know we’ve been luckier than a lot of people, and I don’t want him to risk it. We had our own tough times. He hasn’t always been successful. You see, right before the Crash, Dad made a risky investment, a foolish one, you might even say. He lost a lot of money, and then, when the stock market failed, he lost more. For a while Dad was barely eating or sleeping. He had lost a lot of weight, and I was very worried about him. But he pulled himself back up and then business started picking up again, and he’s been able to make a go of things.”