by Jen Turano
Wilhelmina’s eyes immediately filled with pesky tears once again, their appearance having Mr. Rutherford whipping a handkerchief from his pocket and pressing it into her hand. Snuffling into it, she managed to get out a word of thanks as Mr. Rutherford took to beaming back at her.
“I’m delighted to discover that Edgar has found himself such a sensitive young lady,” Mr. Rutherford said after Wilhelmina finished her snuffling. “And being a sensitive sort, I’m sure you’re anxious to seek Edgar out so the two of you might share a special moment over his considerate gesture. You’ll be able to make immediate use of the skates he provided for you since he’s currently to be found out on the ice, testing a new style of skates for me.”
Wilhelmina blinked. “I’ve never known Edgar to be what anyone could call proficient on the ice.”
“Which is why I’ve given him skates that sport two blades instead of one—a style that should see him finding more enjoyment in the whole skating business, since he shouldn’t spend as much time losing his balance.”
“I wouldn’t be so certain about that.”
Mr. Rutherford tilted his head and seemed to consider that for a long moment. “You might have a point. But do know that I didn’t send him off on the ice all by himself. He’s in the company of Mr. Harrison Sinclair, a gentleman possessed of a brawny figure and enough muscles to get Edgar pulled off the ice if he does have some difficulties with his skating.”
“I’m afraid I’m not familiar with a Mr. Sinclair. Is he new to the city?”
Curiously enough, Mr. Rutherford suddenly took to looking rather shifty. “Do forgive me, Miss Radcliff. I neglected to remember that the subject of Mr. Sinclair is a somewhat delicate one, especially since I’m not exactly certain what Edgar wants you to know about that particular man just yet.”
Chapter
Seven
Having no idea what she could possibly say to that, Wilhelmina found herself spared any response at all when Permilia suddenly appeared by her side. She was clutching one of the pink boxes to her chest but seemed to forget all about that box as she launched herself into the midst of Wilhelmina’s conversation.
“Honestly, Mr. Rutherford, don’t you realize that by speaking to Miss Radcliff in such a cryptic fashion, you’ve piqued her curiosity and probably left her believing the very worst about Mr. Sinclair.”
Permilia turned to Wilhelmina. “Mr. Sinclair, from what I’ve been told, is a shipping magnate who has increased the family fortune exponentially over the past decade. He rarely travels in the highest realms of society, though, given that his fortune is not the three-generations-old that Mrs. Astor claims makes one acceptable.”
Wilhelmina wrinkled her nose. “Is Mr. Sinclair known for shady business dealings?”
“Of course not,” Permilia returned. “He’s from a well-respected family—although I don’t believe they’re originally from New York—and his family members, besides being wealthy, are known to possess remarkably good looks. But that has nothing to do with the subject at hand.” She set her sights on Mr. Rutherford. “What business would Mr. Wanamaker possibly have with a shipping magnate?”
Mr. Rutherford crossed his arms over his chest. “As I said before, Edgar’s business with Mr. Sinclair is his business, and I’m not at liberty to divulge the particulars to you.”
“Fine,” Permilia began with a lift of her chin. “We’ll go track him down and get our answers straight from the source.” She thrust the pink box she was holding into Mr. Rutherford’s hands before she opened up her reticule and pulled out a fistful of coins. Counting them out very precisely, she stopped counting when she reached three dollars, sixty-two cents. Handing Mr. Rutherford the coins, she then took back the pink box, completely ignoring the scowl Mr. Rutherford was now sending her.
“This is not the amount of money I quoted you for the skates, Miss . . . ?”
“Miss Griswold,” Permilia supplied as she opened up the box and began rummaging through the thin paper that covered her skates.
Mr. Rutherford’s brows drew together. “Surely you’re not related to Mr. George Griswold, are you?”
“He’s my father,” Permilia returned before she frowned and lifted out what appeared to be some type of printed form, one that had a small pencil attached to it with a maroon ribbon. “What is this?”
Mr. Rutherford returned the frown, looking as if he wanted to discuss something besides the form Permilia was now waving his way, but he finally relented—although he did so with a somewhat heavy sigh. “It’s a survey, and I would be ever so grateful if you and Miss Radcliff would take a few moments to fill it out, returning it after you’re done to a member of my staff, many of whom can be found offering hot chocolate for a mere five cents at a stand we’ve erected by the side of the lake. I’m trying to determine which styles of skates my customers prefer, and after I’m armed with that information, I’ll be better prepared to stock my store next year with the best possible products.”
“Far be it from me to point out the obvious, Mr. Rutherford, but one has to wonder about your audacity,” Permilia said. “It’s confounding to me that you’re so successful in business, especially since not only are you overcharging your customers for the skates today, you also expect those very customers to extend you a service by taking time out of their day to fill out a survey for you. And then, to top matters off nicely, instead of extending those customers a free cup of hot chocolate for their time and effort, you’re charging them for that as well.”
“I’m a businessman, Miss Griswold—as is your father, if I need remind you. I’m sure he’d understand exactly what my strategy is here today, as well as agree with that strategy.”
Permilia stuck her nose into the air. “You may very well be right, Mr. Rutherford, but . . .” She thrust the box back into his hands. “Since I’m unwilling to pay more than I’ve already given you for these skates, I’ll take my money back, if you please.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mr. Rutherford said, thrusting the box right back at Permilia. “Now, if the two of you will excuse me, I have other customers to attend to.” With that, he sent Wilhelmina a nod, scowled at Permilia, and strode through the snow back to his cash register. He immediately took to smiling a charming smile at the line of young ladies who’d gathered around the pink boxes, none of them appearing to be perturbed in the least by the price Mr. Rutherford had set for the skates, especially since most of them were already waving money his way.
Taking hold of Permilia’s arm, Wilhelmina couldn’t help but grin when she saw the sparkle in her new friend’s eyes. “You’re a little frightening. You realize that, don’t you?”
“I’ve always enjoyed a rousing barter, but I must admit that I didn’t truly know whether or not I’d win this round in the end.” Permilia smiled and nodded to an empty bench by the side of the ice. “Shall we see if Mr. Rutherford’s skates are worth the exorbitant price he’s asking for them?”
“You didn’t pay what he was asking for them, and I, well, I didn’t pay anything at all, since Edgar purchased the skates for me in advance,” Wilhelmina pointed out.
“Which speaks volumes about Mr. Wanamaker’s character.” Reaching the bench, Permilia took a seat, Wilhelmina joining her a moment later. Before either one of them could begin getting their skates on over their buttoned boots, though, two young men from Rutherford & Company appeared out of nowhere and began assisting them.
“Perhaps Mr. Rutherford does know a thing or two about what he’s doing after all,” Permilia said as the two young men sent them nods and hurried away to help other ladies with their skates.
Rising from the bench, Wilhelmina took the arm Permilia offered her, and together the two ladies made their way through the snow and onto the ice.
Smiling as ladies and gentlemen glided past them with cheeks rosy from the cold air, Wilhelmina moved into motion, keeping to the very edge of the lake until she found her balance. Increasing her speed as her confidence improved, she linked her arm
with Permilia, and with their glides matching, they moved toward the center of the lake. Enjoying the breeze flowing over her, she searched the crowd, slowing to an immediate stop when a curious sight met her eyes.
Sitting on the ice in the very middle of the lake was none other than Edgar, his legs stretched out in front of him while a large gentleman Wilhelmina assumed was the mysterious Mr. Sinclair lounged on the ice next to him.
Shaking her head, she tugged Permilia in Edgar’s direction, frowning when Permilia brought them to a stop a mere second later and unlinked their arms.
“It may be for the best for you to do this on your own,” Permilia said.
“You don’t want to see how this ends?”
Biting her lip, Permilia shook her head. “I don’t have the gift of conversing well with gentlemen I don’t know, and . . . I don’t want to make this situation any more difficult for you than it already is.”
“Last night you had no difficulty conversing with Edgar, whom I know for fact you’d never met before, and . . . you certainly had no difficulty conversing with poor Mr. Rutherford.”
Frowning, Permilia wrinkled her nose. “That is a most excellent point. I suppose I didn’t have much difficulty speaking with your Mr. Wanamaker last night because I was at first tasked with the mission of keeping you out of sight, which must have distracted me from my usual discomfort.”
“What about Mr. Rutherford, then?”
Permilia tilted her head. “I have no idea why I can speak so easily, or rather argue so easily, with him, but . . . now is hardly the moment for us to ponder that matter. You have a gentleman intent on marriage to deal with, so . . . off you go.” With that, Permilia sent Wilhelmina a grin and glided away.
Squaring her shoulders after Permilia disappeared into the crowd, Wilhelmina began skating in Edgar’s direction. Coming to a stop a few feet away from him, she smiled when he looked up. That smile, unfortunately, turned to a wince a mere second later, when he tried to get to his feet and immediately took to flailing about. Before she could do more than blink, he was sprawled facedown on the ice.
Skating up next to him, she bent over. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine—well, except for my bruised pride,” he said, rolling over before he struggled to a sitting position. “One would think that since I’m testing skates with two blades, I’d have an easier time of staying upright. But . . . I’m afraid that has not been the case.” He caught her eye again and smiled. “But enough about that. I’m delighted you showed up at the park today, although I was planning on seeking you out at your house if you didn’t arrive here soon.” He nodded to the gentleman who’d risen to his feet and was now smiling Wilhelmina’s way as well. “I’d like you to meet a new friend of mine, Mr. Harrison Sinclair. Mr. Sinclair, this is my very good friend, Miss Wilhelmina Radcliff.”
Taking her gloved hand in his, Mr. Sinclair raised it to his lips in a practiced move and kissed it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Radcliff.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Sinclair.”
“Mr. Sinclair has just disclosed some information that I believe you’re going to find quite interesting, Wilhelmina.” Edgar struggled to get to his feet, not hesitating for even a second when Mr. Sinclair offered him a hand and pulled him upright. “Thank you,” he said.
“You’re welcome,” Mr. Sinclair returned before he nodded to Wilhelmina. “And, because I can see the curiosity in your eyes, allow me to disclose that the information Edgar just mentioned pertains to your father and the financial setback he suffered.”
Wilhelmina frowned. “I’m not certain losing the majority of the family fortune on a risky investment can actually be considered a financial setback, Mr. Sinclair. Complete and utter disaster springs to mind, but setback . . . I don’t think that term sufficiently describes what happened.”
Mr. Sinclair inclined his head. “That’s a fair point, Miss Radcliff, and do know that I’m sorry for the trials your family has obviously suffered. I understand the reason for the loss of your family fortune was due to an entire fleet of ships going down as they were crossing the Atlantic Ocean.”
“That is exactly what happened, Mr. Sinclair. A circumstance that Mr. Melville, my father’s partner in this particular venture, claimed was a most unusual happenstance, one that is rarely, if ever, seen.”
“I would have to agree with this Mr. Melville on that, because entire fleets rarely go down.” Mr. Sinclair shook his head. “A ship might capsize due to a wave, or take on water that has it sinking, but it’s a rare occurrence for all the ships in a fleet to sink. One ship usually manages to float its way back into port at some point in time, even if it has sustained heavy damages.”
Edgar reached out and took Wilhelmina’s hand in his. “That right there is why I sought out Mr. Sinclair today in order to get his perspective on your situation.”
“You sought him out because of me?”
Edgar smiled at her, the warmth of that smile sending little flutters through her stomach. “I just had this feeling that in order for you and me to be able to move on successfully together, we’d be more capable of reaching that success if you had a bit of closure regarding the nasty business surrounding the loss of your father’s fortune. And . . .” he continued before she could pose a single argument to that, “I also thought, if there was a small chance of regaining some of that fortune, it would allow you to feel more secure in any relationship you and I may decide to pursue.”
His smile widened. “I wouldn’t want you to worry that I’d come to question why you’d want to embrace the idea of a future with me after you’d rejected me all of those years ago.”
Her flutters immediately took to increasing, probably due to the idea that Edgar truly did still understand her—had always understood her—and had taken that knowledge and used it to try and create a feeling of equality between them. Although . . .
With her brows knitting together, Wilhelmina tilted her head. “I’m not certain about this, but I truly don’t believe there’s a way to create an equality between us in regard to finances, unless, of course, you’re about to tell me that Mr. Sinclair just happened to have found the fleet of ships that we were told sunk.”
“That’s exactly what Mr. Wanamaker is trying to tell you,” Mr. Sinclair said, his words having Wilhelmina’s knees going so weak that she had no choice but to take a seat directly on the hard ice.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered.
Joining her on the ice—although that seemed to be more because his feet slipped out from underneath him again rather than his deliberately deciding to take a seat next to her—Edgar pulled her hand into his. “I was curious, you see, about what you’d disclosed to me about this Mr. Melville. He sounded like a somewhat suspicious sort, especially after you told me he completely disappeared after your father suffered his apoplexy.”
Edgar lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her gloved fingers. “I was very concerned that Mr. Melville might have taken advantage of your father’s descent into poor health, and . . . I was right.”
“You were right . . . how?”
Edgar turned his gaze on Mr. Sinclair. “Perhaps it would be best for you to explain the situation, Mr. Sinclair, since you’re the one who was able to discover the facts so quickly.”
Nodding, Mr. Sinclair crouched beside Wilhelmina. “My family, Miss Radcliff, has been in shipping in one form or another for generations. I’ve grown up around docks all over the world, and because of that upbringing, I’m very familiar with how rampant rumors are around a shipyard. Having said that, when my friend, Asher Rutherford, came to my office today—in the company of your Mr. Wanamaker, of course—and inquired about the missing fleet your father invested in, I couldn’t recall a single rumor regarding such a happenstance in recent history.”
He shook his head. “In order to make certain I hadn’t missed hearing about the fleet, we proceeded to the docks to track down a few of my friends and associates, and not a
single one of them could recall news about an entire fleet being lost at sea.”
“Some of Mr. Sinclair’s friends did remember a fleet being blown off course, and that the fleet was originally believed to be lost at sea for a good month or so,” Edgar added.
Wilhelmina’s heart accelerated to an almost painful rate. “Are you saying . . . ?”
Edgar kissed her hand again even as he nodded. “I am. The fleet that your father invested the majority of his money in did go missing. And to give Mr. Melville the benefit of the doubt, I believe that when he went to speak to your father, it was still missing and was presumed at that time to be lost at sea.”
“But it eventually showed up?” Wilhelmina pressed.
“It did,” Mr. Sinclair said. “Although, I do feel it necessary to tell you that some of the goods didn’t pull into the harbor with the fleet, having been damaged or lost overboard when the storm hit. However, having said that, there was a tidy profit made—a tidy profit, I’m sorry to report, that Mr. Melville decided to keep for himself.”
Wilhelmina’s mouth dropped open. “He stole my father’s portion of the profits?”
“He did, and moved off to Georgia with them.”
“How do you know that?”
“I have many associates involved in the shipping industry, Miss Radcliff, and those associates have a network of other associates, a wonderful system if one is looking for certain information. I simply put out the word today that I was looking for a Mr. Melville, and a captain from a ship currently stuck in the harbor due to the weather, knew exactly where to find the man. You’ll be happy to learn that a telegram has already been sent off to the proper authorities, and . . . I’m certain Mr. Melville will soon be apprehended.”
Wilhelmina blinked rapidly in order to hold at bay the tears that had suddenly sprung to her eyes. “This seems so . . . well . . . astonishing.”