by Blythe Baker
Catherine went rigid, spinning around and filling the doorway into the sitting room. I could only see a sliver of Alice in the space between the sleeve of Catherine’s dress and her side. Her eyes were wide, but there was a kind of excitement in them.
“What did you hear?” Catherine asked.
“Lots of things,” Alice said. “People pay me little notice, so I do a good bit of eavesdropping. I bet you’d love to know what the servants think of you.”
Catherine shook her head. “I don’t care about the servants. I mean today. You said you saw us in Rose’s room. What did you hear?”
Alice’s smug expression turned curious. “Nothing. Why?” She leaned forward, head turned to one side like she expected Catherine to whisper a secret in her ear. “Was there something to hear?”
Catherine stared at her sister for a moment, and I sat on the stairs with no desire to come between them. When she was confident Alice didn’t know anything, Catherine returned to pacing the entry hall.
Alice jumped up from her chair and stood in the doorway, hands resting on her narrow hips. Even with her short haircut and new clothes, she looked like a child. “What were you two talking about? If there is something going on, I have every right to know. I’m sixteen, not six.”
“Then stop acting like it,” Catherine spat just as a knock sounded on the door. Her deep frown flipped in an instant. She stood tall and almost ran to the door, beating out a servant who was making their way to answer it.
“That will be Charles,” Alice said, rolling her eyes.
I stood up and smoothed down my dress. It was freshly ironed and completely without wrinkle, but I still fussed with the mauve chiffon.
Since promising Catherine I would do my best to uncover the reason for the behavior change in her love, I couldn’t push the thought from my mind that maybe she was right. Maybe her theory that he simply no longer wished to marry her would prove true, and I would have to deliver that news to her. It would break her heart.
Catherine presented an unflappable front, but I had seen a hint of the softness she kept hidden. And if I told her Charles no longer loved her, I felt she would crumble apart. She so clearly loved him and was desperately worried about him, and I wanted nothing more than for her theory to be wrong. And the moment Catherine pulled open the door and I saw the way Charles looked at her, I knew that it was.
Charles looked at Catherine from head to toe, and love seemed to pour off of him like water spilling from an already full glass. There was nowhere for it to go, so it filled the room. Standing on either side of the doorway looking at one another, they practically glowed.
Alice sighed and walked back into the sitting room.
“You are a picture,” Charles said, grabbing Catherine’s hand and pressing it to his lips. When he dipped low, he had a small bald spot at the center of his head, and when he stood again, I noticed the speckles of gray hair at his temples. When Catherine clutched his fingers and pulled him into the entry way, I noticed the deep creases in his forehead and around his mouth.
I hadn’t thought to ask Catherine how old her beloved was. I’d assumed they were similar in age, but Charles looked like he could be a peer of her father, Lord Beckingham. Though, there was something more vivacious about him. His face was square and handsome, and he looked like someone more than capable of handling Catherine.
“Sorry I am late,” he said, standing close to my cousin, his eyes drinking in her face. “I hope you have not been waiting.”
“No, not at all,” Catherine said. “We are still waiting on Aunt Sarah before we are ready to leave.”
I heard Alice mutter something about her sister lying from the other room, but if Charles heard it, he paid it no mind.
“I have been busy catching up with my cousin.” Catherine turned and extended a hand to me. I took it and she pulled me close, tucking her arm affectionately around my waist. “Rose, this is Charles Cresswell. Charles, this is Rose Beckingham.”
Charles Cresswell’s eyes widened like he was surprised someone else had been in the room the entire time, and it was no wonder. He didn’t seem to have eyes for anyone but Catherine.
He grabbed my hand and bowed low. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Beckingham. Katie has told me so much about you.”
“Katie?”
Catherine chuckled and batted at Charles’ chest. “A pet name. I have already warned Alice that if she takes to calling me that, I’ll never speak to her again.”
Charles pressed his cheek to the top of her head. “I will stop if you don’t like it.”
She turned and smiled up at him. “Don’t you dare. I like it when you say it.”
They were looking at one another in a way that, to be fair to Alice, was making my stomach feel a little uneasy, when another knock resounded through the entrance hall.
Suddenly, Aunt Sarah rushed into the room, opening her arms when she saw Charles. “Mr. Cresswell. I thought that would be you. So good to see you.”
“Actually, that wasn’t me,” he said, turning to the door. “Not sure who it is. Would you like me to answer it for you?”
“No, absolutely not. You are my guest.” She turned and called over her shoulder for a servant just as a small brunette woman with wide eyes and pale lips walked into the room. The girl went immediately to the door and pulled it open, stepping aside to reveal Lieutenant Graham Collins standing on the top stair.
He had on his military finest, his hat tucked beneath his arm, and was standing tall. His blonde hair shone gold in the early evening light, and his mustache twitched into a smile when he saw me.
Aunt Sarah frowned. “Hello. How may I help you?”
Graham opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by Alice, who had decided the gathering was now worthy of her time. She pushed past her sister and Charles, who were already whispering to one another, ignoring the stranger at the door, and tipped her head to Graham.
“Welcome. I am Alice. What is your name?” She had on the most mischievous smile I’d ever seen, and even Graham seemed embarrassed by the full force of her attention.
Before things could get out of hand, I stepped forward. “This is my friend, Lieutenant Graham Collins. He came with me all the way from India to ensure I travelled safely.”
“How chivalrous,” Alice crooned.
“So happy to have you, Lieutenant,” Aunt Sarah said. “Will you be joining us for dinner? We are just leaving for the restaurant.”
Graham’s eyebrows went up as he looked to me for the answer. “Well, I’m not sure. I just came to make sure Rose had settled in all right. She gave me the address, and I worry I may have abused it by coming at dinner time.”
“There can never be too many friendly faces around the dinner table,” Aunt Sarah said. “Especially when one is a weary traveler who has taken such good care of one of my nieces.”
It didn’t seem to matter to Sarah that I was not related to her in the slightest, and I appreciated her warm and speedy welcome into the family.
“Besides,” she added, “a handsome young man with an accent should not be out on the town alone. Single women will swarm and overwhelm him. A strapping man like you will need to be seen with a woman on your arm if you hope to keep your uniform so nice and pressed.”
“Is that so?” Graham asked, his eyes darting to me to gauge what I thought of that idea.
I tried to keep my face neutral. “You have arrived at the perfect time for dinner, and I know my cousins have been anxious to meet my travel companion.”
Alice stepped forward, smiling so wide I thought it must have hurt, but Catherine managed little more than a small nod before she was once again whispering with Charles. If things continued as they were, there wouldn’t be time for me to speak with Charles alone and solve anything.
Graham stepped inside just as the driver appeared in the doorway, announcing the car was ready. Charles escorted Catherine on one side and Aunt Sarah on the other, and when Graham provided an arm for me to grab, it wa
s snatched away by an eager Alice. Graham, ever the gentleman, turned and offered me his other arm, and we were off. One big happy family.
6
Aunt Sarah seemed to know everyone as we moved through the dimly-lit restaurant. She talked with women from her garden society and church. And based on small snippets of conversation I was able to overhear, she even seemed to be part of several women’s clubs that had been devoted to women’s suffrage and were now fighting for equal rights. I wondered what Lord Ashton thought of his wife’s politically-minded sister.
The host at the restaurant seemed to like Aunt Sarah best of all, and when she slipped the man a large bill for showing us to our reserved table, I understood why. I reminded myself to ask Catherine later how Sarah had come to command such a large fortune.
“Almost as nice as the White Tiger Club in Simla,” Graham whispered in my ear.
For a moment, I thought he was serious, until I looked into his face. His eyes were wide at the crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling in even measure and the mirrored walls reflecting the tables so the room seemed to go on forever in every direction. Everyone wore their finest, and I wished I’d selected something nicer.
Once we were seated, Aunt Sarah ordered for the table without asking, and no one, not even the men, seemed to mind. I was simply glad for one less thing to worry about, and I folded up my menu happily.
“So, Rose,” Charles said, leaning around Catherine to smile at me. With his full attention on me finally, it was easy to see how Catherine could have softened to his charms. Even with the age difference, a younger version of Charles lived in his smile. “Catherine tells me you spent time in Morocco.”
“Yes. Only a few weeks, unfortunately. Have you ever been?”
“Never,” he said. “Though I’ve always wanted to.”
“You absolutely should.” It was shocking how much I sounded like a born and raised daughter of fortune. No one would guess based on this conversation that I had grown up in one of the worst neighborhoods of this very city. Sometimes, even I could forget that part of my past. “Though, perhaps you should go in winter.”
He laughed. “Are you not a fan of the heat?”
“I spent many years living in India, and I never quite acclimated.”
“You acclimated better than Mrs. Hutchins,” Graham said, laughing as though he had just told a riotous joke. The rest of the table smiled uncomfortably, having no idea who Mrs. Hutchins was.
“Mrs. Hutchins gave me a home during my most recent stay in Simla,” I explained. “She was a lovely woman who could not stand the heat. I have no idea why she accompanied her son to India.”
Everyone nodded in understanding, but Graham continued our private joke. “Every time I visited the house, she was in the library complaining of the oppressive weather. She would have been happier in the Arctic.”
Aunt Sarah laughed and then turned to me. “I hope you will forgive me for saying so, but I was surprised when I heard you had travelled back to Simla so soon. Did you have business there?”
“No forgiveness necessary,” I said. “The only business I had there was making my peace with the past.”
Catherine grabbed my hand and then held her water glass high. “To making peace.”
In a surprising show of affection, Charles leaned over and pressed a kiss to Catherine’s temple, brushing his hand down her hair. “If only everyone in the world could be as lovely as my Katie.”
“If they were, there would be no end to wars,” Alice teased.
Catherine glared at her sister, but Charles just shook his head. “There is much to be said for speaking your mind, which Catherine does quite well. The people I deal with would rather talk with their armies than their words. It makes for very violent resolutions.”
“Catherine mentioned you two met at the embassy, Mr. Cresswell. What exactly do you do there?” I asked.
“Nothing worth discussing over dinner,” Charles joked. “Mostly paperwork.”
“Oh, dear,” Catherine said, squeezing Charles’ hand. “Your job is very interesting. Really, Rose, he is always telling me of the important men he meets throughout the day. Many come to him for advice.”
“Katie loves me, therefore her opinion cannot be trusted,” Charles said. “Everything is interesting to a woman in love.”
Catherine wanted to argue, but then she looked into her fiance’s eyes, and the fight seemed to drain out of her. Alice groaned and aggressively unfolded her napkin in her lap.
“What of your responsibilities, Mr. Collins?” Aunt Sarah asked. “Being a Lieutenant must be worthy of discussing over dinner.”
“Similar to Mr. Cresswell’s job, mine is hardly worth mentioning,” Graham said. “I command a platoon of thirty men, but with the war over for so long now paperwork rules the day.”
“You all make war sound like a social obligation,” Aunt Sarah said. “If I had dealt with the specifics of a war, I don’t know that I would ever again talk of anything else. In fact, most of my best stories are from the Great War, and I did not even fight.”
“Did you see battle, Mr. Collins?” Alice asked, leaning so far out of her chair I thought the legs would buckle beneath her.
“Graham,” he corrected with a smile. “And yes, I did.”
“No one wants to discuss war, Alice,” Catherine said, chastising her sister.
“I am not forcing him,” Alice retorted. “Besides, I want to discuss it.”
“That is because you were only a child when it ended,” Catherine said. “The rest of us lived through it and do not wish to again.”
Alice opened her mouth to say something, possibly to point out that Catherine herself was also practically a child during the time she referred to, but Aunt Sarah cleared her throat and laughed. “Whether at home or out on the town, sisters will be sisters. How ever did you live with these two for so long in London, Rose? Did they bicker then as they do now?”
“Perhaps the problem has become worse since I last saw them,” I said. And in fact, it had. Now that Alice was growing into a woman, it seemed she was not as willing to heed the wisdom of her older sister. “But their many charms outweigh this one fault.”
Catherine raised a brow at me, not believing I was being honest for a second, but Charles nodded in robust agreement.
The food came out in a processional, and we all went silent as a spiced baked ham was placed in the center of the table and surrounded by bowls overflowing with fresh salads, speckled with oil and seasonings and bright sticks of vegetables. Brown crusted bread was cracked in half and buttered, and we passed it around the table, each tearing off our own share. When our plates were full, we set to eating, anything beyond the taste of the food before us too distant to pay any mind. And it wasn’t until I was full that I began to look around the table and the room again, paying attention to something other than meat and herbs.
The host who had seated us and received the large tip from Aunt Sarah was leading a balding man holding a derby hat through the room, smiling widely and laughing loud enough to be heard over the dull roar of the other diners. I wondered whether he would receive a tip as generous as the one Aunt Sarah had given him. The middle-aged man seemed to be smiling genuinely, and like everyone else in the restaurant, he looked wealthy enough to lose a large bill without noticing.
Then, the host cut around a table and headed towards us. I realized the table next to us, which had belonged to a beautiful young couple who whispered and smiled at one another throughout the entire meal, was now vacant. The man surveyed his dinner mates, perusing the tables around his own, but when his eyes landed on our table, he frowned. He leaned forward, trying to get a better look at someone, and then his eyebrows lifted.
“Charles Cresswell?”
Charles had been cutting Catherine’s pork for her, and as soon as he heard his name, he jolted and dropped the fork. It clattered to the floor, and a waiter was at our table with a fresh one in an instant.
“Edward Taylor,”
he said, rising from his seat to greet the man with a firm handshake. Catherine stood up, as well, taking a position just behind Charles’ shoulder. “This is my fiancé, Catherine.”
“Lovely to meet you,” Edward said, bowing low and kissing Catherine’s knuckles.
“How do you two know one another?” Catherine asked.
“Old friends,” Edward said, smiling at Charles like he couldn’t believe his own eyes. “We have known one another for…ten years. Is that right, Charles? We are getting old.”
“Old friends, indeed,” Charles agreed with a laugh. “Edward still had his hair when we met.”
“And yours was less gray,” Edward said, reaching out and brushing Charles’ temple affectionately.
Aunt Sarah stood up and walked around the table. “I must meet the man who is willing to tease Charles Cresswell. He is so kind and friendly that no one I’ve ever met has dared.”
Edward shook Aunt Sarah’s hand, head tipped back in a laugh. “What does it say about my own character that I am willing? Probably nothing good.”
“Nonsense,” Charles said, pulling out Catherine’s chair for her to sit and then reclaiming his own. “You are a better man than you think, and I am worse than most people think.”
“You two appear to know one another well, then?” I asked, unable to pass up the opportunity to speak to a self-described old friend of Charles’. I extended my hand, and Edward leaned around Catherine to accept it. “Rose Beckingham.”
Something in Edward’s smile faltered, but he regained his composure quickly. “Very well. Friendships forged in war tend to stand the test of time.”
“More war talk,” Catherine muttered under her breath. Alice beamed, pleased for Catherine to be proven wrong.
“You fought together?” Aunt Sarah asked.