A Veil Removed

by Michelle Cox

  “Was it Carter?” Clive finally said aloud, unable to keep it in any longer.

  Bennett startled. “Was it Carter what?”

  “Was Carter my mother’s lover?”

  Bennett actually laughed out loud. “Was Carter your mother’s lover? God, no. Why would you think that, my boy? If it wasn’t so preposterous, I’d be offended. Possibly have to thrash you, actually.”

  Relief flooded through Clive in a way that embarrassed him. He glanced over again at Bennett, whose brow was wrinkled now as he looked at the fire.

  “No, your mother never took a lover,” he said quietly. “As far as I know, anyway,” he said, clearing his throat and looking back at Clive. “And if she did, it wouldn’t have been Carter.”

  “No, of course not,” Clive said, wondering why Bennett suddenly seemed so melancholy. “Forgive me; my mind’s a mess.”

  “Exactly why we should get back to the point,” Bennett said, reaching for the decanter after a quick raise of his eyebrows and a corresponding tilt of his head, checking for permission to pour his own.

  Clive nodded his assent. “Which is?”

  “That you should let me run Linley, as I always have been. You work at being a detective. It’s what we both do best. You’ll remain the figurehead, of course, just as Alcott was, show up at meetings, et cetera, but I’ll concern myself with the day-to-day affairs.”

  He paused for Clive’s response, but Clive remained silent.

  “You can be as involved as you want to be,” Bennett went on, assuredly. “As time goes on, and you feel you want to take more of a role, then that can easily be arranged and accommodated. I hope you know me well enough by now, Clive, that I wouldn’t be suggesting this for any personal gain. But Linley Standard is my life. It’s all I know. I never married, never had a family. I just have the firm. We took a hit with the Depression, but we’ve weathered it better than most. I want to see the day when we’re on top again. We’ll get there. I know we will. I’ve diversified so much that we’ve stayed afloat. But that’s not enough. I want us to lead the industry again.”

  Clive stared at Bennett as he spoke so passionately about the company he himself couldn’t care less about, much to his shame. He was sorely tempted to take him up on his offer; it would be like a dream come true for him. But how could he do that to his father, who had been so adamant he take over the reins? He had promised his father that he would do his duty. And was this how he meant to honor that promise? Escape at the first chance that came his way? Clive took a deep drink and realized that Bennett had stopped speaking and was looking at him expectantly.

  “Well? What do you think?” Bennett asked.

  Clive sighed. “It’s an interesting proposal, Bennett, but I don’t think I can do that to my father. He wanted me to take over so badly. You know that as much as I do.”

  “Yes, I know, but maybe it was to alleviate his own sense of guilt. Maybe he was hoping that you’d be the better man of business. I mean him no disrespect, you understand,” he said at Clive’s quick glance. “Did he tell you he read Greek at Cambridge?”

  “Many times,” Clive said wryly, swirling his cognac.

  “Well, then. He was the perfect English gentleman. He was fiercely loyal to the Linleys, his father, and the estate and all of that. He did what he had to do, did it manfully. But Linley Standard was never really his; it was Hewitt’s. And he got in over his head, as we all know now. I wish he would have confided in me sooner,” Bennett said, sighing. “It’s one of the reasons, I suppose, that Hewitt hired me in the first place, to protect against such things. So if anyone’s to blame for this mess, it could be argued that it’s me.”

  “It’s hardly your fault, I’m sure, Bennett,” Clive responded and grew silent, thinking. He looked at the fire. “But if we’re following that thought, why didn’t he confide in me? Let me help him?” Clive asked quietly. “I think that’s what bothers me the most. That he didn’t think to ask me for my help with something I could have actually been of service with.” Clive rubbed his forehead despondently.

  “I think he was ashamed, Clive,” Bennett said gently. “I think he was desperate to get out from under it before you found out.”

  A log fell then, two charred ends of the main log falling into the grate, the center burned through. Clive stood up slowly and took a poker from the heavy iron stand and pushed them back into the flames, using the time it took as a chance to think. He bent to throw a new log on top, causing sparks to fly up and out. You may trust him, as I have done, with your very life, his father had said. Is this what he had meant? If he refused Bennett his offer, he really would have to run the company, and while he was pretty certain he could keep it afloat, he knew he couldn’t make it excel, as Bennett could. After all, his own formal education had been sketchy, as he had joined up almost immediately after high school had finished. He regretted now not getting the degree his father had wanted him to. But he had been hotheaded then, eager to join the fray and defend his country and his British cousins. At the time, nothing else seemed to matter. Ah, the folly of youth, he thought, letting out a deep sigh. But he was older now and certainly wiser, and he had the presence of mind to know that a pivotal moment lay before him. He took his time in pondering it before rushing in headlong.

  “He was immensely proud of you, you know,” Bennett said, interrupting his thoughts. “He used to talk to me sometimes about your work. Said he wouldn’t have the stomach for it. But he would tell us parts of your cases, and he would even repeat back bits of your speeches about seeing justice done. He really was very proud.”

  Clive tightened his grip on his glass and did not look over at Bennett. “That was all just bunk. Don’t let it fool you,” he said looking at him now. “I was doing it for my own reasons.”

  “Maybe so, but it doesn’t make it any less true. Follow your heart, Clive. You did with that pretty wife of yours and look how that’s turned out. Make your father’s death mean something.”

  Clive’s throat was very tight. He so wanted to accept Bennett’s proposal. And yet, how could he?

  “You have a chance to do with your life what you will. Not many people get that chance.”

  It was the second time he had heard that in so many months. His cousin Wallace, too, had implored him to make his life his own. Again, his mind went back to his father’s letter. Trust Bennett. All right, he silently resolved, he would do it. As Bennett had pointed out, he could always go back.

  He held himself erect and stiffly held his right hand out to Bennett. Quickly Bennett scrambled up and grasped Clive’s hand firmly. “Partners?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Clive answered. “Partners.”

  It occurred to Clive, then, that just as Bennett had once “saved” his father, he was now saving him too, in a certain way.

  “You’ve made a good choice, Clive,” Bennett said, putting his other hand on top of their still clenched hands. “I won’t let Linley down.”

  “I know you won’t,” Clive said seriously. “But I wouldn’t get too comfortable if I were you,” he added with a smile. “I’ll probably be back before too long, my tail between my legs. I can’t imagine there’s too much ‘justice’ to be served up here. Davis is probably bored out of his mind normally.”

  “Oh, I think you’d be surprised. After all, we’ve just had theft, extortion, and murder,” Bennett said, ticking them off on his fingers. “Seems challenging enough.”

  “Not according to the chief,” Clive said wryly, and wondered just how tightly Chief Callahan was connected, just how deep the corruption there went. He was looking forward to finding out what the chief’s reaction was to Davis’s involvement in taking down a local crime boss.

  “Speaking of justice, what’s become of that servant? James Swindon is it?”

  “Ah, yes,” Clive sighed, coming back to the here and now. “I had him arrested, of course. He confessed under questioning. One of the maids is completely distraught. Seems she was recently engaged to marry him.
But that’s more Henrietta’s problem, or my mother’s, than mine.” Clive drained his glass. “I confess I was hoping it was someone else.”

  “Carter, perhaps?”

  Clive gave a small shrug and a smile.

  “What do you have against Carter, anyway?”

  “Nothing really, I suppose. He was a crabby bastard when we were small. Always shooing us away from father. And now . . . I suppose he’s just a little too obsequious, if you know what I mean. Always hanging about.”

  “Isn’t that what a servant is supposed to do?” Bennett smiled.

  “In my mother’s wing of the house?”

  A ripple of something crossed Bennett’s face, but it disappeared as he drained his glass and set it on the mantelpiece. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about there, my boy,” Bennett said, the ‘my boy’ causing Clive’s heart to wrench yet again. “I must go. Please give Henrietta and your mother my regards. I’ll show myself out.” He held his hand out again to Clive, who took it firmly. “You won’t regret your decision, Clive. We’ll make Linley great again,” Bennett said with a wink and strode out.—Clive could hardly wait to get Henrietta alone. He was eager to relate to her his conversation with Bennett, knowing she would be pleased. He did not immediately have a chance, however, as they spent the evening with Antonia, who surprised Clive by scolding him for not bringing Bennett in to greet them. She had not seen him since the funeral, she commented, which she thought odd, as before Alcott died, he was always coming and going from the house. She asked what they had talked about, and Clive had vaguely replied, “The firm, mostly.”

  Clive was not in the mood to get into it with his mother or to hear her opinion about what he and Bennett had privately agreed upon. As far as he was concerned, it wasn’t up to her, and she didn’t need to know all of the details, at least not yet. As it was, she was talking about returning to New York to stay with her sister again. It had been a mistake to come back, she said; she saw that now. Besides, she went on, she felt the two of them needed some time alone, as their honeymoon had been so abruptly shortened. And Clive, she added, needed to begin going downtown in earnest, if he was quite sure he had finally wrapped up this dreadful business of Alcott’s.

  Clive had only given her the very briefest of overviews about what had happened during the showdown with Neptune. If they were to pursue detective work, having Antonia be privy to what actually went on during their cases would not be a good idea, he decided, so he didn’t want to set the precedent now, even if this one had indeed involved his own father . . . if they even had any cases, Clive thought ruefully, thinking again about Callahan, as he sat playing rummy with Henrietta and his mother. They needed a fourth, of course, for bridge, so Antonia had of late condescended to play Henrietta’s favorite.

  “And how is your sister doing, Henrietta?” Antonia said, as she fanned out her cards carefully and began rearranging them. “She’s returned to school, is that not right?” she asked absently.

  “Yes, Mundelein College,” Henrietta said, laying down a jack. “She’s doing well, I think. I haven’t spoken to her recently.”

  “Agatha is quite beside herself. Says Elsie hasn’t been to stay with them in ages. Agatha’s quite set on an engagement,” Antonia said over her cards. “But I’m sure you know all about that. She does go on about it.”

  Clive watched as Henrietta’s brow furrowed. He wanted to smile, but he held it in.

  “Really?” Henrietta mused, picking up the top card. After a few moments of hesitation, she discarded it.

  Swiftly, Antonia picked it up and placed it carefully in her hand before she laid her cards on the table. “Gin!” she said triumphantly.

  Clive tossed his cards onto the table in disgust. “You win, Mother. I quit. I’m going to turn in, I think.” He hoped Henrietta would follow. He could not stop looking at her all evening. The curve of her face, the tendril of her auburn hair that hung down, partially concealing her eye. He wanted to reach across and tuck it behind her ear, but he could not do that with his mother sitting there. He felt on fire for his wife, wanting to hold her in his arms, make love to her. He felt freer than he had in months. Free in so many ways.

  Later, as they climbed the stairs to their wing, Clive could not resist putting his arms around her from behind. She turned and gave him a kiss on the cheek, entwining her fingers behind his neck. “What’s this for, Inspector?”

  His insides churned when she called him that in that sultry way of hers that she reserved only for when they were alone. He bent to kiss her, deeply kiss her, there on the staircase. He was pretty sure one of the servants scurried away behind them. Probably Carter, except he was incapable of moving quickly, Clive thought derisively. Well, he didn’t care who saw them. The tip of Henrietta’s tongue on his caused him to harden, then, and all thoughts of the servants left his mind. His hands traveled down her sides and rested on her hips, gripping the fabric of her dress.

  “Come with me,” he said. “I have something to tell you.”

  He couldn’t wait to see her face when he told her that her silly idea was coming true after all. He could hardly believe it himself. There was a deep satisfaction in the idea of having his own agency, the more he thought about it. Answerable to no one and able to call the shots as he saw fit. Not having to “look the other way,” because of some political situation or other or cowering to the mayor. He hoped to someday get to the bottom of the situation with Chief Callahan, if nothing else. Perhaps that should be his—their, he reminded himself—first priority.

  Well, at least he had Davis. Or, he hoped he had an ally in him after what they had just been through together. He smiled at the realization of how that had all come about, more or less, because of Henrietta. Many times, he thought about how she had handled the whole thing—eliciting Davis’s help, getting a gun from one of those girls from the Marlowe, and then having the inspiration to toss it to him at the crucial moment. It did not fail to impress him, many times over. But more than that, it actually elicited an excitement in him, drove his passion all the more for her. She was incredible, this girl—this woman—and he couldn’t wait to ask her to join him. Bennett was now his partner at the firm, but Henrietta would be his partner in the work closest to his heart.

  They didn’t bother lighting a fire upon entering their little sitting room, but sat on the sofa instead, the fringed lamp in the corner giving off enough of a warm glow for them to see each other. Henrietta sat facing him, her legs tucked up under her so deliciously. Clive sat facing her, his outstretched arm along the back of the sofa so that he could caress her shoulder. “I’ve something to tell you,” he repeated again, smiling.

  “So do I,” she said softly.

  Clive groaned. “If it’s about Edna and James, I really don’t want to hear it,” he said.

  “No, it’s not about Edna, though there are a few things I need to tell you on that score . . . ”

  Clive put a finger up to her lips. “Not tonight. Let me guess. Is it about Elsie?” he asked, lowering his finger now.

  Henrietta shook her head, her eyes large and almost glistening.

  “I think I’m pregnant, Clive,” she whispered and held her breath.

  Chapter 24

  Elsie lay on the bed engulfed in darkness, waiting for dawn. She had lain awake most of the night thinking about what had happened in the greenhouse with Gunther and knowing now what she had to do.

  After she had so childishly fled from him, not letting him explain himself, she spent the rest of the day wishing that she had and cursing herself for being so stupid. She had paced endlessly around her room, her sobs finally subsiding, and after washing her face with cold water, she had sought out Melody and remained with her the whole day.

  Melody was quite surprised by Elsie’s attentiveness—but delighted, so she said, to have Elsie so unusually close. They spent the first part of the afternoon under the pretense of studying, but despite their books laid open in front of them, neither of them read a
word. Only once did Melody look at Elsie with narrowed eyes and ask if there was anything wrong, but Elsie had quickly demurred, saying that she was just a little tired and that wasn’t studying awfully boring?

  For a moment, Elsie feared that she had stepped too far out of character and that Melody might question her further, but she had thankfully just laughed and agreed. Accordingly, then, the two of them frittered away the afternoon, Melody chattering idly while Elsie alternated between sitting on her hands and wringing them under the desk until Melody got up and switched on the radio, saying it was almost time for The Romance of Helen Trent, if Elsie didn’t mind, that is. Elsie said she of course didn’t mind, though she had never listened to a single episode before, which Melody found simply unbelievable. The Romance of Helen Trent was truly her very favorite show! she had exclaimed and then declared that Elsie was a very odd duck and that she must have led a very sheltered life indeed.

  If Melody was further shocked when Elsie later declared she was not in the mood to study in the evening, as was already her normal habit, she did not reveal it but instead suggested—nay insisted—that Elsie come with them to Cabaret Night put on by Charlie’s fraternity. She did remember that it was tonight, didn’t she? Melody asked as she gave her nails a quick file. When Elsie said that it must have slipped her mind, Melody declared that she simply didn’t know what she was going to do with her! She was so awfully forgetful as of late. Anyone might think she was in love or something, she said, winking at her, and Elsie tried not to blush.