by Blythe Baker
A Grave Welcome
Blythe Baker
Contents
Description
Newsletter Invitation
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Excerpt
About the Author
Death and danger on the streets of London....
When Rose Beckingham disembarks the ship from Bombay, she expects England and her distant relations to welcome her home with open arms. Instead, she walks straight into the embrace of danger.
After witnessing a murder on the docks, Rose is plunged into an investigation that will lead her from the luxury and glamour of high society to the noise and glare of London’s glitziest jazz clubs.
With the French detective, Achilles Prideaux, trying to uncover Rose’s secrets, can she conceal her past, while tracking down a cold-blooded killer? Or will the murderer strike again, this time closer to home?
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1
Stepping off the gangplank and touching solid ground for the first time in three weeks, I felt as though I was discovering a new continent. I was Magellan finding the East Indies, Roald Amundsen landing at the North Pole. Of course, London had been long discovered before the likes of Rose Beckingham set foot there, but that thought didn’t dampen my excitement. I had arrived.
I looked back up at the hulking mass of the ship behind me. The RMS Star of India had borne me over rough seas, both figuratively and literally, and I was grateful to her for bearing the journey so well.
“Watch it!”
A woman carting a steamer trunk and two rambunctious children plowed into my shoulder, nearly knocking me back. I stopped to straighten myself, adjusting the brim of my beige cloche hat over my curls and smoothing out the travel creases in my tea gown. The dress had felt perfectly adequate for the weather in India, but the air in London had a chill to it. The wind bit against my exposed skin.
“Is there no better place for you to stand?”
A man with a twirled mustache stood only a few feet away with his arms full of luggage, sneering down at me so I wouldn’t be able to miss the fact that I was directly in his path and being an utter nuisance. My cheeks flamed with embarrassment and I scrambled to get out of his way and away from the passengers disembarking the ship. Everyone had seemed so carefree while we were at sea—even with a murder investigation ongoing for most of the voyage—but now everyone looked harried. They scurried away from the ship and into the maze of the city like each one was already late for a meeting.
I turned on my heel, spinning in a full circle in search of Mr. and Mrs. Worthing, the couple who had acted as my chaperones for the duration of the voyage from Bombay to London. In all honesty, they had done little in the way of protecting me. Under their care, I still managed to unknowingly befriend a murderer and nearly be murdered by the same man. However, I couldn’t blame them for that. I chose to dive head first into the investigation of who had killed Ruby Stratton, which placed me in a considerable amount of danger. In fact, the majority of the ship’s passage had been spent trying to get away from the Worthings so I could investigate. But even still, I wanted to bid them farewell. I needed to thank them for their kindness and generosity.
As more and more passengers continued to move down the gangplank and fill the area surrounding the dock, it became more unlikely I would find the Worthings. Surely, they hadn’t left without seeing me one last time? Mrs. Worthing had pulled me in for a cursory hug on our way out of the cabin, and Mr. Worthing had hurried her along, insistent on the fact we would have time to say goodbye once we were on land. But now, they were nowhere to be found.
Pulling my modest steamer trunk along behind me, I weaved my way through the crowd of people reuniting with family members and asking for directions towards their destination in the city. The crush of people didn’t feel unfamiliar. The noisy, crowded streets of Bombay had prepared me for that. However, the pale faces were striking. Everything about London—based on the little I’d seen so far—seemed pale in comparison to India. The sky was a thick gray color, hanging over the stone city like fleece. Where India had been golden sunshine and red dirt and tanned skin, London was faded and foggy and cold. A pang of sudden homesickness sprung up in my chest for the warm and vivacious country I would likely never see again.
I shook my head and tried to look at the city with new eyes. I couldn’t wander around London in awe and wonder. I was supposed to have been here before. More than that, I had to create the illusion that I’d lived in London before. The slate gray city should feel like coming home. I closed my eyes and tried to channel the other Rose’s enthusiasm for the place. All the time I knew her in India, she told me repeatedly how much she missed London.
“You would love the shopping there,” she said one day while we sat on her bed, fanning ourselves from the heat of the Indian summer. “Custom-made hats and dresses in any fabric you could imagine.”
“You can find custom-made hats and dresses in Bombay,” I countered, fingering the hem of my bright yellow sun dress.
Rose fell back on the bed, her blankets nearly swallowing her up. “It’s not the same. London is where fashion lives and breathes, Nellie. By the time the latest fashions arrive here, everyone in London is on to something new. I can’t wait to get home.”
The memory fell upon me like a stone, crushing the breath out of me. In that moment it was hard to believe Rose could be dead. A tear fell from the corner of my eye, and I swiped at it with my gloved hand, dabbing away the moisture so as not to smudge my makeup. I had assumed Rose’s identity five weeks ago, yet I still felt entirely inadequate. I didn’t have her dramatic flair, and I worried everyone could see that. Of course, having supposedly survived what had killed her parents, Rose would have good reason to seem less enthusiastic now.
Lost in thought, I’d wandered across the street from the ship and down a narrow side street. Mrs. Worthing would have opted for the least busy passage into the city, so I knew I had a better chance of finding her and her husband there than on the main roads. Still, the stream of cars and passengers coming away from the docks filled the street and the sidewalks. I was a helpless fish caught in the current. I swiveled my head, standing on my toes to try and see above the crush of the crowd, but finally, I sunk down onto my feet and let myself be washed away.
Eventually, I came to a wide bridge where I was able to duck out of the walkway and stand in the shade of the arch. Since the day had already been gray and overcast, the underside of the bridge was nothing but inky shadows. An alley ran alongside the structure and it looked to cross behind a row of buildings and open onto another busy street that ran down to where the ship had docked. Perhaps the Worthings had gone down a busy street in search of me just as I had gone down a vacant street in search of them.
I could see more people with luggage, clearly having come from the ship, up ahead, but I also saw regular Londoners. People going about their daily commute. Men loading cargo ships, boys waving rags and shouting their price for a shoe shine. The constant din of voices and cars whirred around me like a machine and I thought how easy it would be to get lost in such a large city. Then, a voic
e cut through the noise, closer than the others.
A man stood in the shadow of a low, stone building, his back to me. He wore a dark coat and a fashionable fedora hat. His arms were waving animatedly and the wind carried his voice my way. He was angry, that much was clear.
I took another step forward and a second man appeared just behind the corner. He was shorter than the other man, his face indistinct in the darkness, nothing but hard lines and blotchy cheeks. He had a thick mess of dark hair on top of his head that he tried to hide under a dark gray flat cap.
“You’re angry for nothing, Frederick,” the one in the flat cap said. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
I could hear a scowl in the other man’s voice. “What kind of fool do you take me for? I saw the two of you cozied up together.”
“Your imagination is very vivid, then, because no such thing happened.”
The man in the fedora lunged out at the other, pushing him hard in the chest so that he stumbled backward.
I jumped at the suddenness of the attack, falling back into the stone arch of the bridge, catching myself with the palms of my hands. A jagged rock scraped the back of my neck as I fell and I winced at the sharp pain.
Then, the shouting stopped. The voices that had, only a moment before, been reaching a crescendo, had gone completely quiet. I pressed myself against the bridge, hoping they wouldn’t see me. Why hadn’t I stayed near the ship? I’d been in London for a matter of minutes and already I’d found myself in a deserted alley in the company of two angry men.
I counted to thirty and held in my sigh of relief when the voices resumed.
“You don’t want a quarrel with me. It will not end well for you.”
I couldn’t see who had offered that ominous warning as I was already halfway down the alley, headed in the direction I’d originally come from, towards the protection of the crowded street.
2
Stepping back onto the crowded street felt like experiencing daylight for the first time after a month of darkness. The weather, which had only moments before felt cold and gloomy, suddenly warmed my cool skin.
It felt as though everyone I passed knew where I’d just been. I took deep breaths, trying to calm my rapidly beating heart. As it always did during times of stress, my hand reached for the locket around my neck. The locket I’d kept pressed against my heart for years, carrying it with me always. Except, for the first time since I could remember, I grabbed at empty air. Forgetting all decency, I pulled at the collar of my dress and looked down my front, but the inside of my gown was empty. Still, my fingers reached for the clasp at the back of my neck. Once again, there was nothing. I’d lost it.
My feet stopped moving. I stood frozen on the street, disregarding the shouts of the crowd around me, people hurrying through their lives, ignoring my heartbreak. How had I lost it? When?
Then came the memory of jumping back into the stone. The sharp pain at the back of my neck. I’d lost it in the alley. Immediately, I turned on my heel to make my way back to the alley, all fear of the fighting men lost to my determination to once again have my locket safely around my neck.
“Rose, dear!”
Mrs. Worthing was waving a handkerchief above her head as she walked down the sidewalk towards me, Mr. Worthing trailing behind. Her lips were pursed together, her cheeks red from the wind.
“Where did you wander off to once we disembarked the ship?” she asked, pulling me briefly into her arms for a hug. She did not wait for me to answer. “I know you are a grown woman and not actually in need of our guidance, but we swore to see you safely to London and our job is not complete until you are happily in the company of your relatives.”
Mr. Worthing walked ahead of us, talking over his shoulder as he went. “We need to get back to the passenger entry office. Last night I put a call through to your uncle, Rose. Lord Ashton seems to be a fine man. Fine man. He said there would be a car waiting for you at the port’s entry office once you left the ship.”
I wanted to turn back and find my locket. I wanted to forget about the London branch of the Beckingham family and the Worthings and search for the necklace, but I couldn’t. The locket’s importance was wrapped up in my own personal mission, and without spilling all of my secrets, no one would understand why it meant so much to me. Without the Beckinghams and the Worthings believing my story entirely, I wouldn’t be able to help anyone. Assuming Rose’s identity and coming to London would be for nothing. So, for the sake of my ultimate goal, I followed the Worthings back towards the ship.
“There is no need to be nervous, Rose,” Mrs. Worthing said, squeezing my elbow. “Your family will be so pleased to see you. I’m sure they’ve been beside themselves with grief and worry.”
It was then I decided it wouldn’t do any harm to tell the Worthings what I’d seen. Mr. Worthing could notify a police officer and they could be told where they might return my locket should it be found by any passersby.
“Oh, I am not nervous about seeing the Beckinghams again,” I said, though this was nothing close to the truth. I was terrified of meeting Rose’s relations, considering it would be for the first time, even though I was meant to have known them my whole life. “I did not plan to mention it, but I can’t push the thought from my mind a second longer. Moments before you found me on the road behind us, I had just run away from a rather disturbing encounter.”
“Run away?” Mrs. Worthing asked, no doubt thinking of how unladylike I had looked while doing it.
“Disturbing encounter?” Mr. Worthing echoed, concern etched in the lines of his face.
I turned to him and nodded solemnly. “Yes, I believe I witnessed an attempted robbery of some kind. Two men were shouting at one another in an alley and one man lunged at the other. Fearing for my own safety, I ran from the scene and did not see the outcome, but it looked like a violent altercation.”
Mrs. Worthing pressed a gloved hand to her open mouth. “Good heavens! Are you hurt?”
I reached for her hands and held them in my own, squeezing her fingers in a reassuring manner. “No, Mrs. Worthing. I am perfectly safe. Excepting a gold locket I dropped in the excitement, I am perfectly well.”
“Did you get a good view of either of the men?” Mr. Worthing asked, standing on the tips of his feet, trying to see above the crowd, as if he thought the men I spoke of might be creeping up on us. “We should probably report what you saw, before those fellows can do any harm.”
No sooner had he said the words than Mrs. Worthing reached her hand into the flow of traffic around us and pulled a passing police officer out by his elbow as though she were drawing a fish from a river barehanded. “Sir, we have a crime to report.”
The officer, a young man with pale hair and an even paler face, straightened his hat upon his head and stared at the Worthings, a look of bewilderment spread across his face. Then he looked over at me, and his expression softened. His eyes turned up in surprise and his lips fell apart. A blush crept into his cheeks.
“What seems to be the trouble?” he asked, not taking his eyes from me.
“Tell him what you saw, Rose.” Mrs. Worthing shifted from one foot to the other, trying to gain the attention of the officer, but he kept his gaze fixed on me. “She encountered a violent altercation nearby. Two men.”
The officer looked from me to Mrs. Worthing and back again. “Is this true?”
I nodded, my hand moving absentmindedly to my cheek. I felt the lightly scarred skin over my dented cheekbone, and turned away from him. “Yes, it’s true. The men were two streets back in an alley.”
The officer looked over my head and diagonally, as if he could see through buildings and locate the men without taking another step. After a few seconds, he tipped his hat and smiled at me. “I’ll look into it.”
“Thank you,” I said, having forgotten the reason I’d told the Worthings about the altercation at all. Luckily, Mrs. Worthing couldn’t be so easily distracted by a smooth, handsome face.
“Rose also
lost a locket near the scene. If you discover it, have it returned to Miss Rose Beckingham at the home of Lord and Lady Ashton,” she said, emphasizing the names of my aunt and uncle clearly.
His eyebrows rose in recognition and with one final smile and nod of his hat, the officer cut a path down the road, headed for the scene.
By the time we reached the ship again, the crowd around the dock had thinned. It was no surprise everyone had cleared out quickly. The wind off the ocean was icy and sharp, slicing through my clothes and giving me chills. Luckily, the passenger entry office had plush chairs and a fire roaring in the hearth while we waited for the car. I couldn’t remember ever seeing a fireplace in use while in India.
“I’m going to be sad to see you go, Rose” Mrs. Worthing said, dabbing at her dry eyes with a handkerchief.
I didn’t doubt her sincerity. On the contrary, in the weeks I’d come to know Mrs. Worthing, I knew she had a very large heart and rarely said anything she didn’t mean entirely. However, she also had a flare for the dramatic. Mopping up her pretend tears simply made the moment more memorable, which was why she’d done it.
“We will see her again, dear,” Mr. Worthing said, patting his wife’s shoulder and looking over her head to find me and offer a reassuring smile. “Just because our voyage is ending does not mean our friendship must. We will all be living in the same city, after all.”
I nodded in agreement. “Yes, absolutely. I won’t allow us to never see one another again.”