by Jen Turano
Gertrude waved that right away as they walked across the sitting room. “In all honesty, I was rather relieved to learn there was a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why you were always in possession of so many dance cards, and why you were always watching people so intently and then scribbling down tidbits on those cards.”
“I’m sure that did appear rather curious.”
Walking through the door that led to the bedchamber, Gertrude slowed to a stop and shrugged. “We wallflowers are expected to be a curious lot, Permilia. Most of us harbor many secrets, but at least yours turned out to be a fun one. I have to think that seeing your words in print, even while not using your real name, must have been thrilling.”
“It was certainly a blessing to have been given that opportunity. It staved off the boredom that had been plaguing me while I languished at all those society events. It also afforded Miss Snook the funds she so desperately needed. I’m afraid my stepmother will never agree that the risk I took with my reputation and with the family reputation was worth it, even though I highly doubt my true identity will ever come to light—especially since I have a sneaking suspicion my editor is in the process of hiring someone to take over the Miss Quill column.”
Walking into the bedchamber, Permilia nodded Gertrude toward a well-sprung chair situated by the window. After Gertrude got herself settled, Permilia headed for the freestanding wardrobe that took up a good section of the far wall, passing the four-poster bed, marble fireplace, and assorted pieces of comfortable furniture scattered about the room. Reaching her destination, she tugged open the heavy wooden door and pulled out a traveling coat that would fend off the chill of the dreary April day.
“It’s quite troubling that you’ve been forced to live so roughly of late,” Gertrude said.
With her lips curving at that bit of nonsense, Permilia picked up the hat that matched the traveling coat, closing the wardrobe door before she turned and caught Gertrude’s eye.
“It is troubling indeed, and if you would really like to feel sorry for how roughly I’ve been forced to live the past two weeks”—she nodded toward a door just past the wardrobe—“you should take a gander at the bathing chamber. The marble bathtub can fit at least three people, and the maids deliver fresh, fluffy towels every day, along with a fresh basket of delicious-smelling soap that encourages me to take more than one bath a day.”
“Oh, that is a shame to hear.” Gertrude blew out a sigh. “Especially since I’ve been given the formidable task of convincing you to accept Mrs. Davenport’s offer of a room in her house, but I don’t think her offer can compete with the amenities you’re enjoying here.”
Walking over to the small vanity table that held her hairbrush, hatpins, and a variety of other personal items she’d brought with her, Permilia sat down on the velvet-covered stool. “While it was incredibly sweet of Mrs. Davenport to offer me the use of her home, I’m really enjoying my time here, embracing my newfound freedom, so to speak.”
“Mrs. Davenport is concerned that freedom is going to come with a heavy price—that price being you found murdered in your cozy, fit-for-a-queen bed.”
“She’s a very dramatic sort, especially since she knows full well that Asher has employed the Pinkerton Agency to guard me. Because of that, I’m not certain I understand why she believes a murderer would be able to sneak through the Fifth Avenue Hotel, especially on the top floor, which you can only reach with a special key, and then get past the Pinkerton men, break down my door, and murder me.” Permilia frowned. “Do you think she’d feel better if she knew I always sleep with a pistol under my pillow and that I have my favorite sword stashed underneath my bed?”
“She might feel better knowing that, although I find that information somewhat disturbing—but that’s neither here nor there. She’s not a lady who puts things easily out of her mind once they’re in there, so be prepared for her to continue inviting you. Also know that when she does not get her way, she can turn ornery.”
“Perhaps if we can come up with a reasonable explanation as to why I want to stay, it’ll make her feel better.”
“I already tried telling her that the Pinkerton agents feel that they can protect you better here since your hotel suite is inaccessible to strangers, but Mrs. Davenport doesn’t trust the Pinkerton men.”
“Whyever not?”
Gertrude shuddered. “I haven’t been brave enough to ask her that question.”
Permilia felt her lips twitch. “I can’t say that I blame you for your hesitancy, especially since Mrs. Davenport is a woman who didn’t balk in the least when I stuffed her into a dumbwaiter with the threat of us plummeting to our deaths hanging over our heads. Most women wouldn’t have reacted nearly as calmly.”
“She does seem to thrive when she’s in the midst of skullduggery, which probably explains her distrust of the Pinkerton men. Truth be told, I was just attempting a bit of skullduggery of my own by subtly questioning that agent outside, trying to see if he had any information about Mrs. Davenport that I may be unaware of.”
“Did he?”
“He’s apparently one of those annoying goes-by-the-book types. I think he may have known something about her, but he wasn’t disclosing even a hint of what that something might be.”
“And that right there is exactly why I’ll be staying at the oh-so-charming Fifth Avenue Hotel for the foreseeable future, but do tell Mrs. Davenport that I sincerely appreciate the offer. I haven’t met many society members who’ve been willing to offer me such a kindness, and I don’t take that kindness lightly. However, given everything else that’s been happening in my life of late, I don’t think I’m quite willing to place myself in another situation where skullduggery may happen on a frequent basis.”
Gertrude nodded, even though she looked somewhat glum. “Perfectly understandable, but I have no idea how to break the news to Mrs. Davenport. She was so certain you’d agree to come stay, especially since everyone knows how expensive it is to stay here, and everyone also knows how frugal you are.”
Swiveling around on the vanity stool, Permilia regarded her reflection for a moment before she reached for the tin that held her pins. Digging out a few of them, she set about the business of getting her hat on her head.
“That right there is what you can use to explain my reluctance to leave the Fifth Avenue Hotel. I’m pleased to report that I was able to negotiate a much more acceptable rate, one that suits my frugal nature and allows me to sleep with ease at night. Since that negotiation was no easy task, I’m sure Mrs. Davenport will understand exactly why I don’t want my hard-fought victory to go to waste.”
“Is it a normal occurrence for the Fifth Avenue Hotel to negotiate their rates?”
Permilia stuck a hatpin into the side of the hat, turning her head once she was certain it would hold. “I would think not. Management appeared rather taken aback when I broached the subject of an adjustment.” She grinned. “I believe the only reason they accommodated my request was because they didn’t quite know how to go about haggling with a woman who happened to be one of their cherished guests. But just so you’re not worried that I took advantage of them, given my history of haggling, I didn’t ask for that much of a discount, just enough to where I feel as if I’ve been given a fair price.”
“You’re a little unusual—you know that, right?”
“This from a woman who agreed to wear chicken feathers to the fanciest ball of the season, but . . .” Permilia frowned and turned on the stool, looking Gertrude over. “Why do you look relatively normal today?”
Gertrude smiled and raised a hand to the tidy chignon securing her hair to the back of her head, the small hat she’d attached to that head sporting only a single flower. “Mrs. Davenport had to leave early for a visit with friends, and because of that, and because she did not want my company, I was spared one of her artistic moments.”
“With her proclivity for skullduggery, doesn’t it make you nervous when she goes off without you?”
&nb
sp; “It does, but since I’m her companion, not her governess or caretaker, it’s not my place to insist I tag along with her. God willing, she’ll be fine. If she gets caught doing whatever it is she does when I’m not around, I’ll take that as a sign that God is suggesting to her in a less than subtle fashion that she should consider changing her ways.”
“That’s a very sensible take on the situation.”
“I’m nothing if not sensible, but speaking of God and His ways, have you come to any conclusions about that new path you think God may have in store for you?”
“I’m afraid not, even though I’ve set aside a few hours every day to pray and jot down notes in a journal, seeing if anything will jump out at me that will guide me in a new direction.” She blew out a breath. “I was considering going back to see if Reverend Perry had any additional suggestions, but I would have to imagine that he’ll tell me it’s all in God’s time or something like that. I simply need to be patient, that patience helped along with all the other matters I’ve been dealing with of late.”
“What other matters?”
“Did I mention that, besides hiring on an entire battalion of agents to guard me, Asher has made it a point to visit me at least once a day?”
“No . . . you neglected to mention that.”
“Oh, well, now it’s mentioned.”
Gertrude narrowed her eyes. “Why, pray tell, does he visit you so often?” She got up from her chair and moved toward Permilia. “Have you considered that . . .” Her voice trailed off as she bit her lip.
“Considered what?”
“It’s odd Asher would visit you in a hotel room, since you are an unmarried lady and he’s an unmarried gentleman. This is, after all, the man who proposed a courtship with you simply because he felt your reputation was ruined due to a few articles.” She stopped at Permilia’s side. “Perhaps his coming here is a way to encourage you to accept his offer of courtship since if he’s discovered with you, your reputation will certainly be ruined forever.”
“He brings his secretary, Mrs. Banks, to act as our chaperone, and besides that, he knows full well that I have no interest in entering into a courtship with him. We hardly know each other.”
“That’s why people enter into courtships, Permilia, to get to know each other.”
“You may have a point, but I’m not interested in having him court me.”
Gertrude rolled her eyes. “Please. You and Asher are made for each other. You’re just being stubborn. Far be it from me to point out the obvious, but I believe your feelings were hurt when he made a muddle out of proposing the courtship business in the first place, and that right there is what’s holding you back from allowing him to know you hold him in great affection.”
“I never said I hold him in great affection. I barely know him.” She lifted her chin. “And before you argue with that, know that he simply visits me because of the mutual threat against us, and because of some interesting business opportunities I’ve been able to direct his way.”
“What type of business opportunities?”
“Well, a week or so ago, Asher and I met with some of the Pinkerton agents to go over what they’d uncovered so far. In that meeting, we learned that the agents are quite certain that the threat to Asher does not originate from other shop owners. The agents were quite diligent in their interviewing of staff members, customers, and even relations of the shop owners, and with that diligence came absolutely no evidence that a shop owner wanted to have Asher murdered—put out of business, perhaps, but not put under the ground.”
“What an eloquent way you have with words.”
Permilia grinned. “Indeed, but . . . after having those leads turn up nothing, the agents then turned their attention to my missing shoe—or rather, the shoe that was returned to me.”
“Because . . . ?”
“I told them it was a one-of-a-kind design, which led them to believe—quite as I was believing—that the man who returned it to me might have discovered my identity through the woman I purchased it from, Miss Betsy Miller.”
“And . . . ?”
“The agents paid Miss Miller a visit, and sure enough, a man had come into her store with my shoe in his hand, telling her that the shoe had been found at the Vanderbilt ball.” Permilia’s lips curved just a touch. “That scoundrel of a man then led poor Miss Miller to believe that it was a situation straight out of a fairy tale, one that painted him as a gentleman desperate to find the woman he knew would be his true love—if only he could find the woman who’d lost that particular shoe. That right there is exactly why Miss Miller divulged my name to him.”
“She did not,” Gertrude breathed.
“She did. And then, after the man—whom Miss Miller described as large, well-groomed, and a bit of a treat for the eyes—discovered where I lived, he apparently traveled to my house, waited for me to exit, and followed me to the New York Sun. He then puzzled out my secret identity, although I haven’t figured out exactly how he did that, unless he’s an uncommonly astute man and noticed that I entered the hansom cab as myself and exited it as a veiled lady, which, you must admit, would raise a few questions.”
“It would, but . . . I think it was more a lucky hunch on his part than being uncommonly astute.”
“You’re probably right about that, unless he was like Lucy and thought it was rather odd that Miss Quill would take to delving into writing more personal tidbits than she normally does about me and Asher.” Permilia tilted her head. “Or, he could have followed me into the Sun, eavesdropped on my conversation with my editor, and then . . . while I was getting dismissed from my position, decided to pen me what I’ve now come to believe is a warning.”
Gertrude frowned. “So Miss Miller’s description of this man—large and a treat for the eyes—is accurate as to what the man you thought was following you looked like?”
“It was, and again, he seems familiar to me, but no matter how hard I rack my mind, I simply cannot place him.”
“I would imagine, given the large guest list at the Vanderbilt ball, that you saw him there. And if that does turn out to be the case, you might have actually written something down about him on one of those cards you were using that night, something that will jolt your memory.”
Permilia rose from the stool, moved directly up to Gertrude, and gave her a quick hug. “That’s brilliant, Gertrude, and as luck would have it, I have those cards here at the hotel. They’re stashed away in the muff—where I hid them in case Ida or Lucy came snooping around—and that muff is in the bottom of the traveling trunk I brought with me.”
A knock on the door interrupted Gertrude’s squeal. Permilia sent her friend a grin and hurried through the bedchamber and then through the sitting room, reaching the door a moment later. Pulling it open, she found Agent McParland, exactly whom she’d been expecting to see, although he was looking less than pleased with her, a circumstance that occurred far too often of late.
“How many times must we go over the protocol regarding how you should open the door, Miss Griswold?” he asked.
She wrinkled her nose. “Did I forget to ask who was knocking at the door?”
He arched a brow and didn’t bother to reply. Instead, he handed her a folded note. “You’ve been invited for tea at the Misses Huxley’s.”
“How do you know that?”
“I read the note, of course.”
“Don’t you believe that might be taking matters of safety a dash too far?”
“Not if it had turned out to be a note penned by a nefarious sort, eager to lure you out of your hidey-hole with some clever fiction.”
“It wasn’t penned by a nefarious sort, although I suppose the Huxley sisters could be described as slightly peculiar.”
“Exactly, which is why I’m going to suggest that you pen one of those charming I-regret-that-I-won’t-be-able-to-attend-tea notes back to the Huxley sisters, which I will then see delivered to them.”
“I can’t refuse tea with the Huxley siste
rs. Miss Mabel is an old friend of my father’s.”
“An old friend does not necessarily mean she’s a current one,” Agent McParland pointed out.
“True, but . . . she’ll be ever so hurt if Miss Cadwalader and I don’t stop in for tea.” She smiled. “If it makes you feel more at ease, though, we can then use the excuse of being expected at Miss Snook’s School for the Improvement of Feminine Minds as a reason to not linger long.”
“I’m afraid that doesn’t exactly put me at ease. However, if you’re determined to accept the invitation, you’ll need to hurry. The Huxley sisters want you to arrive at their house promptly at one.”
Permilia blinked. “But it’s twelve thirty now.”
“Since you just admitted you find the Huxley sisters to be slightly peculiar, surely you’re not taken by complete surprise that they’d expect you for tea with little notice, do you?”
“Which is an excellent point, sir, but since time is certainly a’wasting, allow me to go fetch Gertrude and we’ll get right on our way.”
Hurrying back to the bedchamber, Permilia found Gertrude headfirst in the trunk, straightening a mere moment later with the fur muff in her hand. “I found it, and reading the cards will be a perfect way to pass the time it’ll take to get to Miss Snook’s School for the Improvement of Feminine Minds.”
“Indeed, if we were actually still traveling there first,” Permilia began. “We’ve been invited for tea at Huxley House.”
Gertrude shook her head. “I don’t know if I’m quite ready to be introduced to the Huxley sisters, Permilia, no matter that you seem to find them harmless.” She blew out a breath. “Mrs. Davenport told me that she finds the sisters to be most unnerving, and given Mrs. Davenport’s curious ways, well, that right there is saying something.”
“Miss Mabel and Miss Henrietta are not that bad, Gertrude. Quite honestly, I think they’re simply misunderstood.”
“Misunderstood or escapees from the asylum,” Gertrude argued even as she tucked the fur muff under her arm and lifted her chin. “But since we will be accompanied by a Pinkerton agent or two, and you do seem determined to go to tea with scary ladies, I’ll agree to accompany you.”