A Grave Welcome Page 3

  “Thank you all so much for your kindness,” I said. “It has made this horrible time more bearable.”

  “I know the…um…bodies were not able to be shipped home for a proper burial, but we had a stone laid in memoriam. It’s at Kensal Green cemetery, and I would love to take you there to visit whenever you are ready,” Lady Ashton said. “And there is no hurry. I’m sure none of us can grasp the trauma you’ve experienced, so please take your time. We are just so glad that you are safe and unharmed. Losing your parents is a devastating blow, but if we had lost you, too…it would have been unbearable.”

  I smiled at her, gratitude and guilt threatening to overwhelm me. I knew I had a noble reason for impersonating Lady Ashton’s niece, but part of me felt rotten for tricking her. She should be mourning Rose. Her name should also be written in Kensal Green cemetery. But instead, she was buried somewhere in India in a cheap grave that bore the name Nellie Dennet.

  Lord Ashton turned to go inside, and the rest of the family followed him wordlessly. I brought up the rear, losing my nerve with each step. The house loomed over me, ominous against the heavy gray sky, and I wondered how I would ever make myself at home with a family of strangers. As soon as I stepped into the entrance, however, warmth enveloped me. A fireplace roared in the sitting room to the right of the front door and a large staircase led to the next level. The floors were a rich cherry color and plush rugs lay in the center of each room.

  “This home is yours as much as any of ours,” Lady Ashton said, moving next to me to wrap her arm around my waist and pull me further into the house. “I know your previous visits were as a guest, but now you are a cherished member of this family and I hope you will make yourself comfortable.”

  I smiled at her and looked up at the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. A gold circle surrounded it with lace-like details filling the remainder of the ceiling. I had spoke to Mrs. Worthing of finding my own home, but suddenly it no longer felt like my main priority.

  “I can take you upstairs and show you my room,” Alice said, sidling up next to me, her long dress brushing against my calf.

  “I’m sure our cousin is tired from her journey and would like to get settled in her own room.”

  I glanced up to see a young man with thick black hair standing on the staircase. One hand was resting on the banister, but the other was shoved deep into the pocket of his loose gray pants. He wore a plain white shirt with suspenders stretching over his shoulders and black oxfords.

  “Where have you been, Edward? I called for you when Rose’s car arrived out front,” Lord Ashton said, his eyebrows pulled together in displeasure. “And why are you dressed like a servant?”

  Edward ignored Lord Ashton’s criticism and walked down the remainder of the stairs to the entrance hall. He stood a few inches taller than his father, but his frame was long and lean. He pulled his thin lips into a smile.

  “It has been too long, Rose.” Edward stepped forward and wrapped me in an awkward hug. His limbs felt stiff around me and I barely managed to raise my arms and pat his back before he was stepping away. “You look so different.”

  Immediately, I felt everyone’s eyes appraising me, staring at the small scar on my left cheek. Even though the scar usually made me self-conscious, I hoped they were focusing on it now. As long as they were focused on the scar, they wouldn’t be noticing the way my features looked different from those of the girl they’d once known.

  “As do you, Edward,” I said, ignoring the flush of heat rolling down my neck. “I have not seen you since I was thirteen, so it is no wonder we both look different.”

  Edward cocked his head to the side ever so slightly, his smile never faltering. I felt like there was something behind his eyes, but I blinked and it disappeared. Like the blood on the car door handle, it had been my imagination. Edward couldn’t possibly guess that I was an imposter. Why should he? Why should anyone? The story was too far-fetched for any levelheaded person to believe.

  I smiled back at the Beckinghams, confident for the first time that everything would work out. I had not been discovered, and I felt certain they did not suspect me.

  4

  Alice showed me to my room, making sure to point out her own room across the hall should I want to stop in for a visit later. I thanked her, promised to make time to visit soon, and closed the door, grateful for a few minutes alone.

  The chauffeur had brought up my luggage and laid it at the end of the four-poster bed. Like the rest of the house, the floors in my room were cherry wood and the walls had been painted a warm cream. Maroon curtains hung from two identical windows set into the wall. They overlooked the street, and I stood in front of them, looking down at the affluent neighborhood below. The rows of town houses were well-kept. Each lawn was clipped short and flowers bloomed along the walkways. It was an entirely different world from the one I’d known in the Five Points neighborhood of New York. I’d only spent my early years there before being moved to an orphanage and then to India where I met Rose and the Beckinghams, but the memories were vivid enough to last a lifetime. The prostitutes that walked the street and men pedaling illegal or stolen goods. Everyday there was word of fights and robberies. How shocked Lord and Lady Ashton would be to know the humble beginnings of the person they had just let into their home.

  While looking out on the street below, I reached into my pocket and fingered the edges of a now-worn business card. I’d read it too many times to count during the last two weeks of my sea voyage, but I pulled it from my pocket once again anyway and looked at it. The card was blank save for one name, Achilles Prideaux, and an address and telephone number.

  The mysterious French gentleman had struck me as suspicious the moment I’d laid eyes on him after dinner the first night aboard the RMS Star of India. His thin mustache and unreadable expressions left me wary, not to mention the way h always seemed to catch me while I was alone. When Ruby Stratton’s body appeared on deck, Achilles Prideaux had been one of the first people I’d suspected. However, in the end, he saved me from a most certain death at the hands of the man I’d discovered to be Ruby’s murderer, Dr. Rushforth, and my opinion of Monsieur Prideaux changed forever. He disembarked at Aden, along with the bodies of Ruby Stratton and Dr. Rushforth, but before doing so, he handed me his card and told me to call on him at his London home if I ever found myself in need of his services. As I would discover later, his services included being a famous private detective.

  At the time, I had considered his card to be little more than a polite gesture and had no real intention of looking him up. Now that I found myself alone in London and unable to speak to the Beckinghams about any part of my mission, however, Monsieur Prideaux seemed like a helpful ally to have. As a detective, he would be well-versed in locating and tracking down specific people—a skill that would be very useful to me in the weeks and months ahead. Plus, Rose’s inheritance would ensure I had the money to hire him.

  The trouble, of course, was being certain he would stop his investigation at the point I asked him to. Those who called themselves detectives were often not satisfied with half-truths or mysteries, and my story would be littered with both. I could ask him to locate the person I wanted to find, but would he then seek to uncover our connection? And if so, would that lead him to discover my true identity? If he did discover I was not always Rose Beckingham, he could feel obligated to inform the living Beckinghams, in which case, everything I’d done to get to London and get Rose’s inheritance would have been for naught. Hiring Prideaux would require a great deal of caution and faith on my part, but I didn’t have many other options worth considering. I decided right then that I would contact Prideaux and see if he could help me.

  A knock sounded at the door and I called out that it was open. A petite woman with graying hair and a maid’s uniform on slipped through the door.

  “I’m here to help you dress for dinner, Miss Rose,” she said, her eyes focused on the floor.

  “That won’t be necessary,�
� I said, smiling, though the woman wouldn’t look at my face to notice the kindness.

  She shifted her weight awkwardly but didn’t leave. “Lady Ashton sent me here to assist you,” she clarified.

  I realized then that it would be very unusual for me not to accept the maid’s help. I had helped Rose dress more times than I could count and refusing assistance would cast suspicion I couldn’t afford.

  “Forgive me, I’m tired from my journey,” I said, sinking into a low chair in the corner. “I would love your assistance.”

  The maid seemed visibly relieved and stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind her. I watched as she carefully unpacked my trunk, laying a green satin gown out on the bed with a lace headband and gold heels.

  I stood in front of a mirror in the corner as the maid, who reluctantly told me her name was Hannah, peeled off my afternoon dress, leaving me in a corselet and my white camisole. I had a moment of panic where I worried she would notice the locket around my neck before I remembered it was no longer there.

  The thought roused the memory of the two men fighting in the alley. It had been a rather exciting moment, but in all of my worries about meeting the Beckinghams and settling into my temporary home, it had slipped from my mind. I wondered whether the officer Mr. Worthing had spoken to had found the men. Or, more importantly, whether he’d found my locket. Mr. Worthing had given him my name and the address of Lord and Lady Ashton should anyone uncover it and turn it in. At the time, I was so desperate to have my locket returned I hadn’t thought how dangerous that could be. What if someone did find the locket and returned it to the house? Lord and Lady Ashton would almost certainly see it and Lady Ashton, at least, would recognize that the jewelry was not nice enough to belong to a woman in Rose’s position. What if she asked questions?

  I took a deep breath as Hannah slipped the gown over my head. The satin breezed over my skin and I remembered where I was. Who I was. Or rather, who I was supposed to be. Rose would never have suffered foolish questions. If Lady Ashton did ask me about the locket, I would tell her it was a trinket I’d picked up in India and become fond of. Nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing to hide. If I walked through life on the peripheries, hiding my face, people would begin to suspect. I had to stand tall and proud.

  The dinner gong sounded just as Hannah helped me slip into my shoes. She stood up, gave me a once over, and nodded her head.

  “You look beautiful, Miss,” she said with a smile. She had warmed to me considerably in the few minutes she’d been in my company, which was good. I needed friends. I needed people who would be on my side should my mission go south.

  “Thank you, Hannah. That will be all.” I offered her a smile as she left and then turned back to my reflection in the mirror.

  I could not be the shy girl who had run from the dinner table aboard the ship when talk of the explosion in Simla started. I could not be the girl who hid in the shadows near the London docks while two men fought, regardless of the danger the situation presented. I needed to be a woman of action. A woman who took control of her life and her surroundings. I would start with dinner.

  I adjusted the headband pressing down on my curly blonde hair and pulled my mouth into the same crooked smile Rose used to have. I was an heiress and I belonged at that table.

  5

  The dining room was as elegant as every other room in the house. A long wooden table filled the space, each seat set with a gold-edged plate, a crystal glass, and shiny silver utensils on a cloth napkin. It was decadent, certainly more decadent than a normal evening dinner with Rose and her family. Did the Beckinghams eat this way every night or had they deemed my return a special occasion?

  I was the last to arrive at the table, and Lord Ashton and Edward rose as I entered the room. I nodded to each of them, though they seemed to be paying me as little attention as possible. They waited silently until I had sat down to reclaim their own seats. Immediately upon my arrival, Alice wanted to talk of nothing but India. The people, the clothes, the customs, the food.

  “Was it warm there?” she asked, the chicken on her plate entirely forgotten. “I bet it was so warm. It never gets warm here. Did they have wonderful beaches? The beaches here are all rocks and it is too cold and dreary to swim.”

  “Alice, dear, finish your dinner,” Lady Ashton said firmly through her smile.

  Alive frowned and lowered her head.

  “The coastal beaches were very nice,” I said in a conspiratorial whisper, letting her know her questions were not unwelcome. “We used to enjoy them.”

  “We?” she asked, snapping upright.

  I opened my mouth to tell her about the trips Rose and I took down to the water. About stripping off our stockings and walking in the foamy surf, about putting our sandy feet back in our shoes and running home to rinse them off. Except, I was Rose. I had to be more careful about reminiscing.

  “Yes, me and my companion, Nellie,” I said.

  Alice turned to her mother. “A companion? Like a friend?”

  “From your father’s letters, I took Nellie to be your servant,” Lord Ashton said.

  I nodded. “You are correct, uncle. Nellie was a servant, but she was also one of my best friends.”

  I smiled at Alice. I didn’t know why, but I felt a kinship with her. Alice was eager and excited about life, much as I had been. Rose had been the one to indulge my curiosity, and I hoped to be able to do the same for Alice.

  “Did you have to pay all of your friends to spend time with you?” Edward asked. He’d spoken under his breath, but it was clear he had intended for the entire table to hear him. Catherine let out a sharp laugh, reminding me she was at the table at all. Aside from the single outburst, she hadn’t made a single sound.

  Lady Ashton shot her son a stern look but said nothing. Lord Ashton simply looked fatigued, as if he had long ago grown tired of Edward’s behavior and no longer had the energy to correct him.

  I did my best to smile, hoping if I made myself a boring target, Edward would eventually give up trying to ruffle my feathers. “We hired Nellie to assist with household chores. Luckily, she became my friend for free.”

  “Luckily?” Edward asked, one dark eyebrow raised. “Would you not have had the money to pay for her friendship? My understanding is that your family has enough money to make all of India your companion.” He placed an odd emphasis on the final word.

  I was startled less by his rudeness than by his frequent references to money. Although Rose and her parents had been wealthy, none of them would ever have discussed the subject so freely, and certainly not before a guest at dinner. It would not have been thought polite.

  “Had, brother,” Catherine said. “Her family had money. Unfortunately, they don’t have anything anymore.” Apparently, she shared her brother’s ease with the topic.

  I looked to Lord Ashton, expecting him to say something. Rose’s father had been his brother, after all. Could he really sit by and allow his own children to speak so harshly of their deaths? Apparently, he could, as he did nothing to quiet them.

  “Did you have many friends in India?” Alice asked, seeming unbothered by the antics of her older siblings.

  It was a wonder she could be so well-mannered at such a young age. Perhaps, cruelty was a skill acquired with years. I hoped not. Even though I’d only just met her, I hoped Alice would stay curious and kind always.

  “I did, though you’ll come to find it is more important the quality of friends you surround yourself with than the quantity,” I said.

  “Which is lucky,” Edward said, leaning forward so he could look down the table at his youngest sister. “Because we do not have the money for you to have a great quantity of friends. But we may yet be able to swing a few quality ones.”

  “Stop it, Edward,” Alice said, hitting her hand on the table and shaking her water glass.

  So, clearly Alice did understand the meanness behind her brother’s words.

  “It’s quite all right, Alice,” I said,
smiling up at Edward. “What is a little teasing between cousins?”

  “We have a good sport here!” Edward said, extending a hand to me as if I were livestock he was attempting to sell to an eager bidder.

  Catherine snorted and swirled a pile of peas around her plate. “It’s easy to be a good sport when you’re the one inheriting a fortune.”

  “No more talk of money,” Lady Ashton said. “It is impolite, particularly as dinner conversation. Dear?”

  Lord Ashton nodded in agreement with his wife. “Your mother is right. Everyone ought to eat and enjoy the meal.”

  “While we still can,” Catherine mumbled.

  “Cat,” Lord Ashton warned, calling her by what I assumed to be her nickname.

  Lord Ashton’s eldest daughter looked up at him with a meek smile and it was enough to undo the sternness in his features. He winked at her. The moment he looked away, however, Catherine cast her narrowed eyes in my direction.

  What had Catherine meant by that? While we still can.

  “You know, cousin,” Edward said, speaking to me as though we were old friends. Which could have been the case. Rose had spoken to me little of her relations, so I had no idea how close she was with her family back in London. Perhaps Edward and I were meant to have been childhood friends. Based on his behavior over the course of the dinner, I found that hard to believe, but it was a possibility nonetheless.

  Edward didn’t seem in any particular hurry to finish his thought, so I finally looked up at him, meeting his eyes. The chandelier that hung above the table reflected in his dark irises, giving the appearance of a fire burning inside him.

  “As word of the explosion in Simla reached us,” Edward said, bringing up the topic as though it were as inconsequential as the weather, “we believed you to have perished in the car with your parents.”