Her father would not be happy with her skipping service, but for this once, she knew it would be acceptable. “Of course, sir. I’ll see you the day after tomorrow.” She took her hat and lingered with her hand on his arm as she gazed up at him through her lashes. “I look forward to it.”
Winnifred fairly trotted to the grip car line in her excitement. Her hand went to her sleeve to feel for the lump, but felt nothing. Gasping, she stopped so short that the man behind her on the sidewalk rammed into her, knocking her hat askew.
“I’m so sorry, miss!” The man, who turned out to be Jude, examined her face. “Are you quite all right?”
“I lost it,” she murmured, nearly in tears.
“Lost what?” He glanced about the sidewalk as if whatever she had misplaced would appear.
“The evidence. After all these weeks, I finally had something to show my father, and now I’ve gone and lost it between the time I was in the kitchen and when I was in Miss Lance’s room!”
“Slow down,” he whispered, taking her by the elbow. “I’m sure it can’t be all that bad. Tell me what happened.”
Jude watched from his desk as Percival Covington opened the door of the inspector’s office before turning to bid the inspector farewell with a grin on his face. Jude set aside his sandwich, all appetite gone, and moved as quickly as he could to avoid being caught by the author. The office was no place to get work done with Covington chatting up the inspector, much less Officer Baxter and his relentless babbling. He would finish writing his case notes in the comfort and quiet of his own apartment in half the time it took here. Jude was nearly to the bottom of the stairs when Percival called to him. Blast. He turned to Percival and gave him an obligatory nod.
“Detective Thorpe, wait.” Percival trotted down the steps to catch up with him. “I wanted to ask how Miss Wylde’s work went today since I wasn’t able to join you.” He followed Jude out the door. “Where are you heading in such a rush?”
Jude tugged his hat over his eyes. “Home,” he replied, ignoring Percival’s first question. He recounted what Winnifred had briefly mentioned to him of a Miss Lance taking a room and of her finding and misplacing a brooch, which had been evidence toward her sighting of the woman in green.
Percival let out a low whistle. “Sounds like we both have had quite the day. Do you mind if I walk with you?”
Seems to me you already are. “You don’t live anywhere near me.”
“I know, but I could use the walk. I have entirely too much on my mind. This waiting is nearly unbearable. This morning when I awoke to no news, I began thinking that my building anxiety might be the end of me.”
Jude grunted, the pain in his chest needing an outlet. As much as he wanted to make his excuses and bolt, he had to know for sure what had happened. After seeing them ride off in a carriage trimmed with roses, he knew in his heart what had occurred. But when he had seen Winnifred this morning, she didn’t have a ring on her finger. That gave him a shred of hope before remembering that she may have been wearing it on a necklace to keep her cover as she had been doing with that pearl ring of her mother’s that never left her skin.
He cringed, hating the idea of Percival proposing even though he knew he had no right to as he had no claim on her affection. If his love was unselfish, he would want her to move on with her life and find happiness, but thinking of her kissing Percival set Jude’s teeth on edge. “Waiting on an answer, eh? Does that mean you’ve asked Miss Wylde for her hand?”
Percival cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean to let on to all of that, but I suppose that’s what I get for having a detective for a friend.”
A friend? He wouldn’t go that far. Possibly forced acquaintances. But friend? If Winnifred hadn’t been in the picture and maybe, just maybe, if Percy didn’t talk quite so much about his books, Jude could see them getting along. “So, that is a yes.”
Percival grinned at him. “I know it is a bit rushed, but I have my reasons. Please don’t say anything to anyone. I would hate to break the news before even having an official answer from the lady.”
Jude forced himself to extend his hand. “Congratulations. I wish you both the best.” The words sounded perfectly normal, but inside he was roiling with turmoil. He had lost her. For all of Winnifred’s declarations of not wanting a suitor, he knew that Percy had been her favorite and, as her father and aunt wished her to marry Percival, she wouldn’t say no, not after what Jude had told her.
Percival made small talk to which Jude attempted to respond until he reached his apartment, and as he did not invite Percival up, they parted ways. Climbing the three flights, Jude fished his keys from his pocket. The two keys jangled together, sounding quite lonely. One for his apartment and one for his sister’s house. He opened the door to his apartment and was greeted by no one. The emptiness of the days before him seemed daunting, and the passion of his calling waned.
He tossed the keys onto the kitchen counter and opened the small icebox, finding a bottle of milk and an apple. It was hardly enough to call dinner, but it would have to do for now. Chomping into the apple, he sank into his old overstuffed chair in front of the fireplace and squinted over his paperwork. He had forgotten to open the faded calico curtains that had been left by the previous tenants.
Sighing, he lifted his gaze to the cracked ceiling as his discontentment threatened to overwhelm him. The evenings that he had so enjoyed before meeting Winnifred now spread out before him in an endless, meaningless eternity without her. Lord, help me bear it as she becomes another man’s bride.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul.”
~Emily Dickinson
After a long Saturday of combing the world’s fair for any sight of Miss Lance that had yielded nothing, Winnifred’s limbs ached as she climbed the stairs of the Englewood building Sunday morning. The scent of cinnamon rolls wafting down the stairwell was making her mouth water and her stomach rumble. Surrendering her resolve to go straight upstairs to the office, Winnifred made her way to the kitchen. “Good morning!” She looked expectantly to the cooling rack with the cinnamon rolls dripping with thick vanilla icing. “Have all the boarders had their breakfast?”
Auntie Ann laughed and set a roll on a plate, handing it to her. “Not all of them, but knowing your sweet tooth, I had the foresight to make an extra one for you.”
“You are wonderful!” She bit into the roll and, holding her hand over her mouth, she asked around her mouthful, “Did you happen to see our latest boarder this morning on her way to the fair?”
“Seems that she isn’t going to the fair after all. She departed this morning at dawn.”
Winnifred nearly choked on the roll. “She left? Did you see her go?”
Auntie Ann set to washing her mixing bowl. “No, but Mr. Holmes said that she decided to go home. She packed her things and left before I was even out of bed.”
That’s mighty early, if Auntie Ann wasn’t even up. She swallowed her bite that had turned to dust. “I might step outside and eat this in the fresh morning air before going back upstairs,” she said, thanking Auntie Ann. She took the back stairs, not bothering to even fetch her hat from the rack. She had to find Jude.
Jude jumped to his feet as their eyes met from across the street. Winnifred dropped her gaze, remembering that she might easily be spotted from the window above. She rushed down the sidewalk, away from the first-floor shops and around back to the alley, to the meeting place that Jude had told her would be safe in a pinch. She slipped into the shadows, wrapping her shaking hands around the plate in an attempt to keep from dropping it.
Jude ran up to her, set the plate atop a closed trash bin, and gathered her hands in his, looking her over for an injury. “Winnie,” he breathed. “Winnie, are you all right? Did he hurt you?”
She crumpled into his arms, sobbing. “I should have gotten Miss Lance out when I had the chance. I should have—”
He lifted her chin to look at him
. “What happened? If you don’t tell me this instant, I’ll go in there and confront Holmes myself.”
She wiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Holmes has taken Miss Lance. I’m sure of it. He’s taken her and hidden her away somewhere.” She poured out what Auntie Ann had told her, heartbroken.
“She may yet still be alive.” He grasped her by the shoulders. “You must search the third floor, and if you don’t find anything there, check the basement again. I don’t know how you will be able to manage it with Holmes about, but we will pray the Lord gives you the opportunity. If you do not find her by tomorrow, we will submit a missing person report and you will not be returning to his employment. One day of her not showing up and the hotel being the last place she was seen is all your father will need for a warrant, which will catch Holmes off guard.”
“The warrant will take too long. I have to find her. I’m confident she did not leave the building.” Realizing that she was still gripping his forearms, her cheeks warmed and she dropped her hands.
Jude pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed her eyes before tucking a loose curl behind her ear. “Take care of yourself, Miss Wylde. I couldn’t bear it if anything should happen to you.”
Under his tender touch, she stilled and gazed up into his warm, amber eyes, losing herself in their golden depths before her focus settled on his full lips. She longed to kiss him again, and Jude stepped toward her as if he too felt the pull. He drew her into his arms, his hand caressing the base of her neck.
“Miss Swan?” Holmes’s voice called from around the corner, stopping them.
Her eyes widened. “What do I do?”
“Go,” he replied, ducking into the shadows.
She grabbed the plate, accidentally dropping the roll, and dodged around the corner, plastering a smile onto her face. “Mr. Holmes! I—”
“Where were you off to again?” He frowned. “One minute you were upstairs and the next, Auntie Ann said you stepped out for fresh air. I thought you had become ill again.”
“I’m sorry, I did feel rather sick to my stomach, and I didn’t wish to become ill on Auntie Ann’s floor and make her think her cinnamon roll was to blame.” She ran her handkerchief over her neck, wiping away the sweat. “Even though I think it was.”
“Ah, well, I’m sorry to hear that, and I’ll be sure to avoid them.” His gaze trailed her neck. “Are you better now?”
Her neck burned from his brazen gaze as she joined him in walking back to the building. “Yes, sir. The fresh air and an alleyway to drop off the roll was all I needed, but please don’t tell Auntie Ann, for I’d hate to hurt her feelings when she works so hard to please us.”
“That’s kind of you. I knew you had a sweet heart to match your beauty.” He stepped closer and pulled the wisp of hair from behind her ear that Jude had tucked only moments before, allowing the tendril to dance across her face in the humid breeze. “What would you think about going on a business trip with me? I used to take my last secretary every month to a special client I had a few towns away.”
Knowing she wouldn’t be around beyond tomorrow if they didn’t locate Miss Lance, she returned his audacious grin and nodded. “I would be honored to accompany you.”
His eyes sparked with what seemed to be surprise as a slow smile lit his features. “Marvelous. I’ll plan a trip for next week if that is agreeable.”
She dipped her head. “Anything to help you, Mr. Holmes.”
He smiled and reached into his coat pocket, retrieving a folded paper and handing it to her. “Though I am loath to talk of business, I need your assistance pulling some items from upstairs. We need to make sure that nothing on this list is left behind. Owens and I will handle the heavier items, of course.”
She unfolded it and read over his instructions on removing porcelain basins, a bathtub, and various home goods from the third floor. She frowned. “Are you selling the hotel, sir?”
His brow crooked as his tender expression vanished in a flash. “No. I just want it done, and without any more silly questions, if you please, Miss Swan. None of the other secretaries disappeared so much on the job or questioned my methods near as much as you. Am I going to have to find myself a new secretary, or are you going to comply without questioning every little thing?”
She barely kept herself from shrinking back at his erratic, almost violent reaction to her innocent question. If I’m ever going to have the chance to find Miss Lance, I’m going to have to convince him to keep me. “Forgive me. I am so sorry. I forgot my place and will do this at once. Would you like me to see to hiring a couple of men to move the tub for you and Mr. Owens?” She allowed her gaze to fall on his arm as she gave him a smile. “But then, I’m sure you don’t even need Mr. Owens to help you.”
A grin lightened his features as he held the door for her. “I know I may look like I can manage, but I’ll have Joe assist me just in case. I’d hate to break the porcelain tub for pride’s sake. Now, let’s get to work. I’m going out of town this evening, so we need to have this done by this afternoon.”
Winnifred began following the list, starting with the farthest room down the hall, noticing that the room that Holmes had locked was not listed. She had never before been given leave to explore the third floor with everyone’s knowledge, and she wasn’t about to squander her chance. She couldn’t help but feel amazed at the swift answer to their prayers. Thank You, Lord. Guide me to Miss Lance, she prayed as the men walked by carrying down crates full of paperwork from the office, grunting from the weight.
Alone at last, she darted to the locked door and gently knocked, whispering, “Miss Lance? Miss Lance if you can hear me, knock on something.” She didn’t have time to use her hairpin, so she pressed her ear to the door, listening for any signs of life inside.
Footsteps sounded on the stair. Winnifred darted away from the door and into one of the nearby rooms on the list, grabbing a table lamp to carry down to the kitchen where they were sorting things, nodding nonchalantly to Owens and winking to Holmes in passing. I’ve got to find a way to get into that room. There is a reason it is still locked.
Even though Miss Lance had roomed on the second floor with the other boarders and she strongly suspected the locked room to be holding the answers, Winnifred still searched for anything that could help locate Miss Lance as she ticked off her list. Scooting an overstuffed chair out into the hallway and toward the stairs, Winnifred wondered if Holmes was intending to do something with all this furniture or if he was returning it to his creditors. She mopped her forehead and nearly laughed at the thought. Most likely, he was having the staff hide the items before the creditors came to collect them. She had seen how he gave the creditors the run around. Men came to him constantly, ready to take away everything, but after a few drinks with Mr. Holmes and his gregarious manner, they left without their money, feeling as though they had acquired a chum.
Breathless, she left the chair at the top of the stairs for Joe and returned to the windowless room for the porcelain basin. She carefully carried it down to the kitchen table, nearly panting with the effort. With each load of dusty items that entered her pristine kitchen, Auntie Ann exclaimed over the mess and waved her hands, not happy with the chaos at her table as Holmes, Owens, and Winnifred deposited doorknobs and basins to sort through and pack away.
Winnifred trudged up and down the stairs so often that her feet began to ache and she sorely regretted wearing her heeled shoes. However, the pain helped to distract her from the thought of Miss Lance’s disappearance or Percy’s looming proposal. She was fetching the last basin from one of the larger corner rooms when she noticed a couple of pails and a paintbrush sitting by the room’s single, dusty window.
“Thank you for your hard work today. I hope your evening is restful and your limbs aren’t too sore,” Holmes said from behind her, taking the basin from her and gesturing for her to follow him to the kitchen. “I gave everyone the rest of the afternoon off and the whole of tomorrow because I will
be away. I don’t think it’s right for people to continue working when the boss is off on vacation.”
Hearing the tail end of their conversation, Auntie Ann sighed. “After what my kitchen has been through today, I’m going to need everyone off so I can set the house to rights again.”
Holmes ignored the agitated housekeeper, took Winnifred’s hand in his, and gently pressed a kiss atop it, his whiskered upper lip brushing against her skin, sending suppressed shivers down her spine. “I’m looking forward to our business trip with only the two of us and to becoming better acquainted with you.”
Shocked with his boldness, she couldn’t even answer as Miss Swan. “I thought Owens would be joining us?”
Auntie Ann sent her a scowl, mumbling something under her breath about Emeline and the impropriety of it all.
At this, Holmes’s eyes saddened only for a moment before a darkness set behind his pupils. “I told you, Auntie Ann, Emeline ran off to be with her new husband. You saw her announcement card. And it was strictly a business trip that Miss Cigrand and I took. That burning passion you thought she had for me was nothing more than an infatuation. She is happily married and will never return here. And I would like it if you would refrain from mentioning her, as it is too painful to remember the kind spirit that will never again fill these halls, unless, of course, her husband returns with her.” Clearing his throat, he nodded to Winnifred. “Enjoy your time off, Miss Swan.”
Jude watched as Winnifred pinned on her hat then let her arms fall limp as she stretched her neck from side to side. She paid her fare and boarded the grip car, lifting her normally pristine skirts that were now marred with gray streaks. She sank into her seat and leaned her head against the pole, staring at nothing as he slipped into the seat next to her. He snapped open the paper to read until they had traveled a safe distance from Holmes. From behind the pages, he counted the blocks until he finally was able to turn to her as she yawned and noticed him watching her. She laughed at being caught and held up her hand, blocking her yawn, her pretty hands red from working. What did Holmes have her doing?
The White City Page 20