An Inconceivable Deception

by Sydney Jane Baily

  “I’d best be getting you home,” he said.

  “I wonder what time it is.” Rose considered whether her mother or her brother might have called the police already.

  “We left the theatre early,” William reminded her. “It’s only,” he glanced at the clock on the mantle. “Christ! It’s nearly 2 a.m.”

  Still, neither of them jumped up. He took her right hand in his and ran a thumb over the ring that had sealed their engagement.

  “What happens next?” he asked.

  She sighed, having dreaded that question. “Reed is seeing to my divorce.”

  “You said your family didn’t know.”

  “I needed my brother’s help after Finn returned.”

  “Finn,” William repeated the name softly, as if learning a new word.

  Rose wish she could stop herself from saying it. It was like a curse word between her and William. She’d already told him about the ship’s sinking and where Finn had been and how he’d returned to save her from bigamy.

  Or that was the reason she gave, not knowing for sure why her husband had, at last, come home.

  She’d also told William about the oddity of Liam staying behind and making a fortune.

  “Perhaps this man is behind the threats,” he had surmised, “and sent those thugs to the theatre.”

  As they got into William’s carriage, both a little tipsy and exhausted, Rose couldn’t believe how the evening had turned out. She felt closer than ever to this wonderful man.

  She rested her head on his shoulder, and in a few minutes, they arrived at Mount Vernon Street, dark and quiet. She loved the sight of her house as it came into view, a single lamp left on at the front.

  “I love this house,” she said, recoiling slightly at the loudness of her voice in the darkness.

  William chuckled. “You, Miss Rose, are a little inebriated.”

  “Then we had best get you home,” she declared.

  “That makes no sense, but I agree. We both need some sleep. Tomorrow — or rather, later today — things will look different.”

  Rose noted with dismay that he hadn’t said things would look better. What was he thinking?

  He walked with her up the front steps and stood with her while she opened the door.

  His hand on her chin, he lifted her face and looked into her eyes.

  Her breath caught. Was William going to tell her they were finished?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  William’s next words calmed her. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” Rose told him without hesitation.

  “Then we’ll leave it at that for now.” He kissed the end of her nose and then seemed to reconsider, capturing her lips with his own for a tender assault.

  As she tried to wind her hands around his neck, William stopped her and gently sent her inside before closing the door behind her.

  ***

  Finn slammed the door as he left his room early the next morning, unable to shake the anger that had dogged him since watching Rose leave the theatre with Woodsom. Somehow, he had thought after he had rescued her — after he had held her in public! — that she would go home with him. Irrational, foolish thought.

  From the moment they’d spotted each other four years ago, he’d been the unexpected object of Rose’s devotion, even as she had hidden their association from her family. More than flattering, her attention and affection had been miraculous, incredible.

  Finn had basked in the love she’d shone upon him and had returned it a hundred-fold. Even after the years apart, it twisted his gut every time he witnessed her spending her precious attention on Woodsom.

  Yes, he could plainly see she loved him, but could she truly feel for this other man as deeply as she had felt for him? Worse, did her love for Woodsom supplant her love for him?

  It’s your own damn fault, he reminded himself. Your own insecurity cost you everything.

  The thought flitted through his brain as it did every day since returning to Boston. However, it was still sorely difficult, nearly impossible, to believe it was too late.

  Reed Malloy had kept the divorce agreement secure in his portfolio that day at the police station, and Finn had not brought it up. He had told the detective what he knew and then he’d left.

  Apparently, what with two thugs going after Rose, nothing had changed. After all, what could the police do? There were no suspects except for Liam, and he was as dodgy as a slippery eel. They would question him, maybe they had already, but to what aim?

  Today, Finn intended to track down Master Builder Gilbert, if the man worked, as Liam had said, at the Navy shipyard in Charlestown. Easy enough to reach by trolley though he wasn’t sure if they would let him onto the yard or exactly what he hoped to discover. A full confession of incompetence from Gilbert was highly doubtful, though perhaps the man would at least demonstrate some humility and remorse for the lives lost to a bad design.

  “State your business,” a sentry said to Finn when he reached Gate 1 on Water Street.

  “I’m here to see Master Builder Gilbert,” he’d offered, peering past the man so he could see all the way down First Avenue, which spanned the yard’s entire length.

  “Is he expecting you?”

  Absolutely not. That was one thing Finn was certain of. No one expected a dead man.

  “No, and I’m not sure he’ll know my name. I used to work for him at a yard in Eastie. May I meet with him?”

  The guard sighed. “You a civilian?”

  “Yes,” Finn told him.

  “That’s ok. There are plenty working here nowadays, but you’ll have to be escorted. Wait here.” He disappeared inside the guard hut. When he came out, he had an official-looking ledger. “Can you write?”

  Finn bristled. “Of course.”

  “Don’t get hot,” the sentry said. “As many as can, can’t. Anyway, write your name here,” and he handed him a stubby pencil.

  After he scrawled his name on the line and wrote the date, the first sentry gestured to another guard. “Take him to the Muster House.”

  “Muster House?” Finn questioned him.

  “Gilbert’s clerk said he should be on one of the upper floors with the civil engineers. Mind your step. We’ve got a lot of work going on around here.”

  “None too soon,” Finn muttered and fell into step beside his escort.

  The place was outdated compared to where he’d worked in the United Kingdom. The Charlestown yard had nearly been closed in the last decade, which would have been a shame, he thought. At present, the yard did mainly rigging work for the Navy, producing tons of rope. Yet no naval ships were built there anymore, not from scratch, for the dry dock was too small.

  “There’s more activity going on than I thought there would be,” he said to the silent man beside him, gesturing to the docks on their right.

  “Got about sixteen commercial vessels right now, and doing repairs on four for the Navy.”

  That explained the question from the first sentry. Civilian builders were employed there to keep the place open, working on merchant vessels. They continued down First Avenue until they turned left onto 5th Street. Up ahead, on the right was a small, three-story circular building with a turret on top.

  “The Muster House,” said the guard, who left him at the door and promptly turned around and went back the way he had come.

  Finn entered and nodded to two men who seemed to be doing something official for the Navy, though he couldn’t guess what. They seemed to be perusing ocean charts as well as land maps.

  “I’m looking for Master Builder Gilbert,” he told them.

  “All the way up, third floor,” said the one closest to him, attaching a piece of string to a map with a pushpin.

  Finn climbed the circular stairs in the middle. As he breached the third floor, he saw men at desks positioned by the many windows. He recognized Gilbert at once, sitting at a table with two others, drinking coffee and laughing. It was the laughter that twisted Finn’s sto
mach.

  “Mr. Gilbert,” he said as he approached his old superior, a man in his late forties with a thick moustache and spectacles.

  Gilbert looked up and blanched a sickly pale. Instantly, Finn knew that the builder had been warned of his return for he had neither a hint of puzzlement as to who Finn was, nor did the man’s eyes bulge in wonder at the resurrection of a dead man.

  Either Mr. Kelly or perhaps Liam had spoken to him already.

  Finn decided to take a different tack, as if pulling on the sheet ropes in hope of catching a fairer wind.

  “I don’t know if you remember me, my name is Phineas Bennet. I worked at Kelly’s yard years ago. I always paid careful attention to your work,” he said, hopefully with pointed meaning, “and I would very much like to work here under your tutelage.”

  Gilbert wrinkled his brow. No doubt he had been expecting heated accusations of incompetency.

  Finn held his breath. Perhaps the man would employ him, thinking by doing so, he could keep Finn quiet. If Gilbert sanctioned him by letting him work at the yard, maybe the threats would stop and he could breathe more easily over Rose’s safety. Finn could continue to seek justice in the meanwhile.

  “Yes, I remember you,” Gilbert said with a measured tone. “You were a good builder.”

  Around them, the other men paused in their work, watching silently.

  “I’m better now,” Finn said. “I have an advanced degree from Glasgow University.”

  Gilbert’s eyebrows rose. “Really? That is impressive.”

  Finn nodded, hating to deal with this man who’d caused the death of boys as young as 14. Still, he couldn’t survive if he couldn’t work. If Gilbert went against what Kelly had said and hired Finn, then he had a chance at a new beginning.

  “We might have some work for you here, but we’re not building ships.” Gilbert crossed his arms over his narrow chest. “We don’t need even a loftsman at the moment. For old time’ sake, though, I can put you to work. Do you want sails or rigging?”

  Finn swallowed. All that study to make rope or sew canvas!

  While he hesitated, Gilbert added, “Won’t be improving this yard until the appropriations act comes through, and then it’ll be for tools and water pipes and such. Maybe dock repairs. What we need is a new dry dock and electric lighting. All these damn gas lamps are a hazard!”

  Finn nodded. “I’ll take whatever work I can get.” He had a bit of money saved anyway, and working near Gilbert meant he could continue to pursue some measure of justice for those who’d perished aboard the Garrard.

  With that, he began his first day in the immense concrete building known as the Ropewalk.

  ***

  Rose didn’t remember going upstairs, nor undressing, which apparently she hadn’t for when she awoke, it was late the next morning — nearly lunchtime — and she was sprawled across the top of her bed, still in her scrumptious copper gown. A wrinkled mess.

  It took her a moment to remember what had happened. When Rose did, she groaned. Then she recalled even more and groaned again before burying her head in her pillow.

  William now knew she was married. Two men had tried to abduct her, most probably to kill her. Finn had saved her life.

  Rose was supposed to be at her cooking class, but that thought didn’t cause her even to lift her head. There was no point in trying to get to school. She would never make it before the end of the lesson.

  Then she remembered the only good thing: Claire and Franklin were well and truly engaged. Claire’s reputation was salvaged, too, and there would be a wedding to plan.

  Perhaps a wedding to cancel as well. Her own.

  Why was everything so mixed up? Why so much bitter with the sweet?

  A knock on her door caused her usual response. “Yes?”

  “It is I.”

  At the sound of her mother’s voice, Rose sat up. Should she stop and strip off her gown and get under the covers? That would take too long. Besides, at her age, she would not earn too much disapproval for her late night, and certainly no punishment.

  “Come in.”

  Her mother sailed in carrying a cup of tea on a saucer. She paused at the sight of Rose in her evening dress, however she did no more than raise a delicate eyebrow.

  “For you,” Evelyn said, approaching her daughter and holding out the teacup.

  “Thank you.” Rose would have preferred coffee, and her dear mother knew that, but Evelyn would never be disabused of the belief that tea was the best remedy for anything. And if not that, then a glass of sherry.

  She took the cup and sipped. The milky sweet brew actually did immediately make everything seem better. Perhaps her mother was correct after all.

  “You were out quite late, I take it,” Evelyn said without rebuke.

  “William and I went to see The Lady of Lyons.”

  “Mm,” her mother murmured. “Which ended at 11 o’clock, I believe.”

  “Did it?” Rose asked vaguely. Then to distract, she added, “Franklin Brewster proposed to our Claire, directly before the performance.”

  “Mm,” her mother said again, still looking at her bemusedly. “I read about it in the morning papers. While you were still sound asleep.”

  “Of course.” Rose sipped her tea. “Did they reprint Franklin’s pretend advert from the playbill?”

  “They did,” Evelyn confirmed. She cocked her head and observed her squirming daughter. “There was also talk of a certain other theatergoer being accosted in the lobby and of broken glassware.”

  “Oh.” What could Rose say?

  Evelyn narrowed her eyes. “You weren’t hurt, I can see that. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

  “Nothing to tell, really,” Rose began. Merely her fiancé finding out she had a husband after her husband saved her life by rescuing her from armed men. “Are the police looking for those men?”

  By the expression on her dear mother’s face, Rose had put her foot in it.

  “Men?” Evelyn repeated.

  Damnation. Rose should have read the story in the paper before she said anything.

  “The ones who accosted me,” she offered, her voice trailing off as her mother leaned forward and put her hand on Rose’s arm.

  “The paper said you were being restrained by one man when William approached and dropped or threw down champagne glasses behind you. He then quickly removed you from the theatre.”

  No one had noticed the two men with the gun. That was just as well. Moreover, the interpretation of Finn restraining her rather than comforting her was excellent for her reputation and for William’s pride. Rose certainly wouldn’t argue the finer points of what had occurred. She was only thankful she hadn’t mentioned the gun to her mother.

  “Yes, of course.” Should she tell her mother about Finn now that William knew? “I meant are the police looking for the man, the one man, the one who restrained me?”

  “I don’t believe so. It was simply a small side note, perhaps two lines. The paper indicated that William handled it and that was that.”

  “Correct.” Rose finished her tea and set the cup and saucer down beside her bed. “I believe it’s time I got up.”

  She swung her legs over the side of the bed and hoped her mother would take the hint and leave her to her morning’s toilette, even if it was nearly noon.

  However, Evelyn was not letting her get away too easily.

  “I know you are nearly a married woman, but you must still take care, Rose. You cannot be alone with William until all hours, at least, not unless you are in public.”

  Rose opened her mouth to protest, yet she could think of nothing to say. She knew she had no moral ground to stand on.

  “Yes, Mama, I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  “Furthermore, you can’t have unseemly people accosting you at the theatre,” Evelyn added.

  “Where should they accost me, Mama?”

  Her mother’s eyebrows drew together, exactly like Reed’s. Then in t
he next instant, they relaxed as the words sunk in.

  “That is not even the least bit amusing,” Evelyn said, despite the small smile playing about her lips.

  “No, Mama. Honestly though, I was on my best behavior. Beside it wasn’t my fault,” Rose finished.

  “No, dear, it never is. Only remember this, your reputation is your most valuable commodity, even though you have secured a marriage proposal from a most wonderful gentleman.”

  “I will do better,” Rose promised.

  “Thank you. We wouldn’t want anything to jeopardize your future.”

  It was definitely not the time to tell her about Finn.

  “Yes, Mama.”

  An hour later, Claire came bounding into the dining room where Rose, feeling incredibly hungry after everything that had occurred, was having poached eggs on toast and sausages.

  Her friend squealed with delight as soon as she saw her. Jumping up, Rose had her arms around Claire and was hugging her in mere moments.

  “You’re getting married!”

  “I’m getting married!”

  “Let’s sing it this time,” Rose said. “You’re getting married!”

  “I’m getting married!”

  “Perfect, shall we make a song of it?”

  Claire laughed with sheer delight, and Rose had never seen her happier. Was that how she’d looked when she’d been Finn’s newly wedded wife? Was that how she’d acted after William had proposed? Wouldn’t it be singularly splendid if she and Claire could feel that same glowing happiness without the benefit of a man?

  She wouldn’t spoil her friend’s happiness by philosophizing about that particular point? After all, Claire had waited a long time for her heart’s desire.

  “What happened at the intermission?” Rose asked.

  The instantaneous blush on Claire’s face told the story.

  “So you kissed? What else?”

  Claire giggled. “We kissed some more, and then this!” She thrust out her hand so Rose could see her engagement ring, a large glowing opal with diamonds encircling it, all set in a thick gold band.