by Blythe Baker
Achilles gestured for me to take a chair in front of his fire and then claimed the matching chair next to it as his own. “Me, bitter?” he scoffed and waved me away. “Never. I should have expected nothing less from you. I’m not sure if you have made this connection yet, Mademoiselle Rose, but you have a penchant for getting yourself into trouble. In fact, you seem to run headlong into it.”
“Has it ever crossed your mind that perhaps trouble has a way of finding me rather than the other way around?” I asked.
He smiled, his white teeth glimmering like smooth stones. “Never.”
I eased back into the comfortable chair, soaking in the yellow light in the room and the glow coming from the low fire. Achilles stood up to stoke it slightly, pushing a log back, embers swirling up in a small funnel before settling again. It felt nice to be with another person. The weeks after Somerset had been lonely, though I hadn’t realized it until I was sitting in Achilles Prideaux’s sitting room.
“The papers made little mention of it, but I suspect you are responsible for your cousin being behind bars?” Achilles asked.
“And why would you suspect that?”
He raised a thick brow at me and tilted his head down. “I believe your history answers that question for me. Would this not be the third murder you have solved? If I’m not careful, there may be another famous detective living in this neighborhood.”
I folded my hands in my lap. “To be honest, I stumbled upon the truth quite by accident.”
“You would be amazed how many cases are solved in exactly that same way,” Achilles said. “You are more of a detective than you think.”
He was smiling, but I sensed a coldness behind his words. Could Achilles Prideaux really be worried about me stealing some of his work? I didn’t know, and that wasn’t why I’d come to see him.
I waved him away and readjusted in the chair, sitting up straighter. “I’ve done nothing but talk about Edward for days. I’ve come to speak of something else.”
“I’m surprised anything else could even compete for your attention. In fact, most everyone I know is speaking of the Ashton heir and his fall from grace.”
“I’m sure you remember the box I received just before the weekend in Somerset?” I asked.
He nodded. “The chess piece and the note, yes. Did the anonymous sender reach out to you again?”
I swallowed back my nerves. “He did. Last night.”
“He? So, you saw him?” Achilles asked, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees.
“No, not exactly. In fact, I don’t believe the sender makes his own deliveries. I was accosted in an alleyway, blinded, and the box was thrust into my hands. By the time I removed the blind, the person had run off into the night.”
“What were you doing in an alleyway at night?” Achilles asked, reaching out to grasp my wrist, his eyes wide and sincere.
I patted his hand twice before he pulled it away. “Are you worried for me, Achilles?”
He stood up and moved quickly to stoke the fire in the fireplace again. “I just want to know you are being careful.”
“Always,” I said, though we both knew it was a lie. When he reclaimed his seat, I continued. “I know I have already asked you to help me locate the man named Jimmy, but I would like your assistance in locating the sender of the boxes, as well.”
“I have been looking into the matter of the boxes, though I haven’t discovered anything yet.”
“I know. I just wanted to make it an official inquiry. This is no longer a friend coming to another friend for help. Consider me a client. I want to pay you to find the Chess Master for me.”
“The Chess Master?” his brows pulled together.
I flushed slightly. “It is a moniker I’ve given him because of the chess piece left in the first box. It is a substitute for his name. Once you are able to discover his true identity, I will gladly call him that, instead.”
He nodded, his face contemplative. Finally, he sighed and looked up at me. “Of course, I will assist you, Mademoiselle Rose. Whoever this person is, they clearly know a great deal about you, and for your own safety, it would be better if you could know something about them in return.”
I nodded in agreement, not telling Achilles exactly how much the Chess Master knew about me. From his first letter, it had been obvious he knew my secret identity. That information could be very powerful in the wrong hands, and I had a strong feeling that the Chess Master’s hands were, indeed, wrong.
“So, what was in the box you received last night?” Achilles asked. “Did you bring it with you?”
Again, my face warmed with embarrassment. “I’m afraid I no longer have the box.”
“Why not? What happened to it? That is important evidence.”
I, again, decided it would be best not to tell him that I’d thrown the box into the fire in a fit of frustration. He didn’t need to know how deep of a connection I felt to what I was about to show him.
“I do have what was inside the box, though,” I said, reaching into my clutch and pulling out the two pieces of paper. They were scarcely the size of my palm when put together.
“‘God help me, I’ve killed them.’” Achilles read the note slowly. He picked up the smaller piece and then re-fitted it against the larger note. “Do you recognize this handwriting?”
I shook my head. I still wanted Achilles to help me find Jimmy, and it would be best if he didn’t know the person I wanted him to find was likely a double murderer. That information might make him unwilling to help me any further. And also, I needed to protect my own identity. No matter how much information he found out about Jimmy or even Nellie, I couldn’t allow him to know I was not Rose Beckingham.
“So, there is nothing else you can tell me about the man who sent you these?” he asked.
I thought back, trying to recall anything even slightly incriminating, but there was nothing. “The only thing I know is that the sender has people working for him. The man who accosted me last night was not the same man I saw standing beneath my window several weeks ago. They had very different builds. Either one of them was the Chess Master or the Chess Master is more important than we think and has many underlings.”
“As I said before, if the man knows of a murder before it is committed, we must assume he has a connection to the criminal world. In which case, it is possible he has followers,” Achilles said.
“I agree. Edward mentioned reaching out to a man for the poison he used to kill Thomas Matcham. I believe the person who supplied that poison is the same man who is contacting me. Or, if not, I at least believe the two men are connected.”
“I tend to agree,” Achilles said, his lips puckered. “I fear you may have somehow found yourself involved with some very serious criminals.”
“Does that information make you not want to help me?” I asked. “Because I would understand if you don’t want to be involved.”
I was offering Achilles Prideaux a way out, but I hoped he wouldn’t take it. The truth was, without him, I would have a difficult time finding any information. I’d been placing so much hope in the Chess Master for the whereabouts of Jimmy, but the note he’d delivered did nothing to help me find Jimmy. All it did was ruin the image I’d cultivated of my brother over the years. It cast a long shadow of doubt over everything I thought to be true.
“Mademoiselle Rose, if you think I am afraid of a few amateur criminals, then I beg you to get to know me a little better. I will not be backing down from your case, and I hope to return to you with news in the next few weeks.”
“Thank you, Achilles. You are one of the only people I can trust these days.”
He placed his hand on mine briefly and smiled. “We will speak again soon, Rose. I hope to have more information to offer.”
On my walk home, the sun had begun to rise in the sky, burning off the fog and dew of the morning. People filled the sidewalks and streets, going about their daily business. Except now, I studied everyone with a suspicious air
. Were they simply strangers going about their business? Or, were they associates of the Chess Master watching my every move? Despite what Achilles had said about the Chess Master being an amateur criminal, I couldn’t help but think he was downplaying the man’s skills. The Chess Master had enough contacts to know when far away murders were being committed and when pretend-heiresses were masquerading under false identities. He had underlings to do his bidding and had somehow managed to find the second part of a note that had been written nearly a decade before.
Though the morning was warm, I shuddered, a panicky chill rolling down my spine. Far from being an amateur, I believed Achilles and I were searching for a criminal mastermind.
20
I filled the following days as best I could. There was still much unpacking to be done, which Aseem and I set to with quiet diligence. He carried boxes for me, making no complaint despite his small size, and I filled my home with the scant decorations I’d managed to accumulate. Through her letters, Lady Ashton had offered many things from her own storage and I’d gone shopping for the others, visiting local stores for candle holders and picture frames to fill the walls. Slowly but surely, the home I’d bought for myself was becoming an actual home. Not simply a cover story for my disguise, but a place I really wanted to spend my time in.
If Aseem noticed my lack of visitors and how infrequently I was leaving the house, he didn’t mention it. I assumed he and George had both read the papers. They likely knew what had happened with Edward in Somerset, and noticed that I hadn’t been going to the Beckinghams for dinner, but neither of them asked me any questions. It was nice to have a place where I wasn’t forced to consider the fate of Edward, my tenuous relationship with the Beckinghams, and the identity of the Chess Master. I could focus on interior decorating and whether picture frames were straight on the walls. It was a safe haven.
One week after Catherine’s impromptu visit and after I’d received the second package from the Chess Master, there was another unexpected knock on my door.
“Miss Alice Beckingham, Miss Rose.” Aseem waved Alice into my sitting room and then made himself scarce, closing the double doors behind him.
“Alice,” I said, crossing the room quickly and wrapping my arms around my youngest cousin. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed her until she was standing in front of me. I hadn’t seen her since the day Edward had been shot, and it had been many weeks since then. “What are you doing here?”
She hugged me back, which was a relief. I didn’t know how much she knew about what had happened with Edward or my role in it. If she knew everything, I would not have been surprised to find her reluctant to talk to me, let alone hug me.
“It’s good to see you, Rose.” Her voice was measured and even, far from her usual giddiness. Though, there had likely been very little happening in her life that would cause giddiness.
She wore a pale violet tea dress that swung loose around her blossoming hips and a low-heeled pair of Mary Janes. Her long brown hair was pinned into a swirl at the base of her neck and covered with a felt hat with a large felt bow on the side. As much as I wanted to pretend Alice was a little girl, she was turning into a woman. It seemed as if she had aged five years in the last few weeks.
“What are you doing here?” I asked again, grabbing her hand and pulling her to the two-seated sofa in front of the fireplace. “Does anyone know you are here?”
“They all left to visit Edward this morning but told me I couldn’t come.” Her lower lip trembled with annoyance and frustration. Beneath her womanly appearance was still the little girl who begged to be included. It was almost a comfort to see a glimmer of the Alice I had come to know.
“Do you really want to see him?” I asked, trying to be gentle. “In that place?”
“Is he in a real prison?” she asked, eyes wide. “With bars on the doors and slop for food?”
I couldn’t say for certain what kind of prison cell Edward was in, but I had to assume it wasn’t glamorous. It definitely was not the place for a fifteen-year-old girl. “I’m not sure of the conditions, but it isn’t a place you’d want to visit. It’s full of the worst kinds of criminals.”
Her eyes flashed for a second, and I realized what I’d said. I opened my mouth to take it back, but Alice lifted a hand. “It’s all right. I know what you meant. I just have a hard time thinking of Edward that way.”
I nodded, not sure what to say. I didn’t want to tell her anything her parents didn’t want her to know. I wasn’t sure what Lord and Lady Ashton would do if they knew I’d welcomed her into my home and then shared the whole terrible truth with her.
“You can stop looking so nervous,” Alice said, a tender smile spreading across her pink lips. “I know everything.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Everything?”
“Everyone likes to think I’m a silly girl who doesn’t know what is going on, but I pay attention,” she said, jutting her chin out. “I know Edward killed Mr. Matcham, I know Mr. Matcham and Catherine were a couple, and I know Edward tried to kill you.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked for the third time.
“I wanted to see you,” she finally said, her shoulders sagging. “It has been weeks and you haven’t been by the house.”
I grabbed her hand in both of mine and squeezed. “I’m not sure anyone wants to see me right now.”
“I do,” she said, nodding firmly. “And so does Mama. I know she does.”
I tilted my head to the side. “But your father? And Catherine?”
She rolled her eyes. “Papa is always visiting Edward and Catherine never leaves her room. She has been wandering around the house dressed in black. She claims it is because of Edward, but I know it’s for Matcham. I can hear her crying through the wall that separates our rooms. I didn’t even know they were in love, and now she is mourning him. It is so strange.”
Alice was talking fast, the words getting jumbled as they tumbled out of her mouth. She spoke as though she’d been dying to talk for weeks but hadn’t had the opportunity. And it was likely she hadn’t. Everyone seemed to always be a little short with Alice, so now that they were especially busy and sensitive, they probably weren’t very interested in what she had to say.
“It’s normal to be sad,” I said, trying to defend Catherine. “She cared about Matcham.”
“Not enough to tell us about him,” Alice said, clearly bitter her sister had kept a secret from her. “And I can’t even imagine what Edward was thinking. It seems impossible that he could have done such a thing.”
I grimaced and then nodded. Even after Edward had confessed, I found myself reluctant to believe him. Edward had a good family and a solid position in life. It was unthinkable that he could have thrown everything away in the name of his family’s reputation.
“How did everything become so terrible?” Alice asked, tears collecting in her eyes. “Edward and I played croquet in the grass the day after he…” she let the sentence trail off, not wanting to say what he had done.
I patted her back, rubbing my palm in circles over her sharp shoulder blades.
“That was such a good day. I thought we were having so much fun, and now I see it all differently,” she said.
“I understand,” I said, wishing I could tell Alice how much I really did understand her. I could completely relate. The letter I’d received from the Chess Master had brought into doubt all of my memories of Jimmy. If he really had killed our parents, how long had he been planning it? A few days? A week? Or had it been a spur of the moment decision? And if so, would he have killed me too had I not been out of the house? Suddenly, our entire relationship felt suspect. Just moments before opening the box, I would have sworn Jimmy loved our parents fiercely, but now I didn’t know, which meant I didn’t know anything about him.
Alice smiled at me, though it didn’t reach her eyes and I could tell she was unconvinced. “I came here because I heard Papa and Catherine talking.”
“If it isn’t something
they intended for me to know, then I’m not sure you should—”
“I know Catherine came to see you,” she said, interrupting me. “And I know she asked you not to testify against Edward, but I wanted to come and tell you that I want you to do whatever you feel is right.”
I leaned back and looked at her. “You don’t mind if I stand in front of the court and tell everything that happened? Even if it means Edward never comes home?”
She swallowed hard, tucked her lips to the side of her mouth, and then shook her head. “If Edward really did what everyone says he did, the world should know it.”
I wanted to squeeze Alice. I wanted to hold her to my chest and cry and tell her over and over again how thankful I was for her. For weeks I had felt like I was facing off against the Beckinghams, like I was the one tearing their family apart, but Alice had brought an entirely new perspective. Edward had committed his crimes. Not me. Being honest about the things he’d done wouldn’t transfer his blame to me. I would always be the victim, and he would always be the culprit. Nothing would change that.
“That’s a very grown up thing to say, Alice,” I finally said, my throat thick with unshed tears. “I appreciate you coming to see me very much.”
She smiled, but when the clock above the fireplace chimed, she looked at it and her smile disappeared. “I should get back. They don’t know I left the house, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
I walked her to the front door, my hand on her back. “I’m not sure when I’ll see you again,” I said, deciding it was best to be honest with her.