A Sudden Passing Read online

  “He is getting settled at his hotel, the reason for his absence similar to that of Charles. He did not wish to intrude on our reunion.”

  Based on Alice’s pouty lower lip, however, Graham would have been a very welcome addition to our party.

  “I look forward to meeting him,” Aunt Sarah said. Then, she pointed to the nicest car parked along the curb. The sides were cherry red, the top a rich black that seemed to glimmer in the sunlight. “This is mine.”

  I turned to Catherine and whispered. “Where is Aunt Sarah’s husband?”

  “Not here, either,” she said. “Though, unlike our men, he won’t be joining us soon…or ever.”

  “Oh,” I said confused. Then I saw the look in Catherine’s face, her eyebrows raised expectantly, and I understood. “Oh. He is dead.”

  She nodded and leaned in, voice low. “I’ll explain later.”

  My luggage was loaded into the car, and then we moved slowly through the streets, avoiding the pedestrians still being purged from the ship.

  “How was Africa?” Catherine asked. “Is that where you developed such brown skin or was that in India?”

  “A combination of the two, I’m sure.” I’d noticed the tanning of my skin only because the powder I used to disguise the scar on my cheek from the bombing had begun to only highlight the injury. It was no longer the same shade as my skin. I hoped time spent in the city would return me to my normal skin tone soon enough. “But it was a very enjoyable trip. More to see than I could ever recount in a single conversation.”

  And even more that I would never recount. Catherine, and Alice too, I suspected, knew of my interest in mysteries, but they did not need to know how deep that interest ran. They did not need to know that I was in Morocco investigating an international assassin ring. And they did not need to know that I had encountered and killed two such assassins. I could tell by the looks on their faces—and that of their Aunt Sarah’s—that I was already seen as an oddity. A woman outside the bounds of normal society. And I did not need to make myself even more of a spectacle by announcing my secret life as a private detective.

  Catherine grabbed my hand and twined her fingers through mine as though we had done it a thousand times before. She patted the back of my hand with her own, highlighting the stark difference between my hand and her alabaster one. “Luckily, we have time for many conversations, cousin. You can tell us all about your adventures.”

  “And I certainly will,” I lied.

  4

  Aunt Sarah and my cousins pointed out the neighborhoods to me through the window as we passed, but I knew them already. Had walked them many times. Especially the wealthier neighborhoods. My brother and I would escape our family’s small apartment to mingle among the old and new money in Washington Square and Madison Square Park. We would wander Fifth Avenue, hungry for the price even a carved banister from their stairs could fetch us.

  And now, I would be staying in one of those homes.

  As we neared the end of a block, brick and stone mansions rising up around us like castles, one house stood out. It was a corner lot, with two faces open to the public, each more extravagant than the other. The house was constructed with white stone polished to a shine and large, open windows that made me wonder how the house was still standing. Towers and chimneys and decorative parapets rose all over the roof, making it hard to know where to focus. Until we turned the corner and I saw the elaborate gothic arches and spires drawing my eyes upwards to the heavens. The structure was astounding.

  Even more astounding, the car parked along the curb in front of the mansion.

  “Is this your home?” I asked, my awe obvious.

  Aunt Sarah smiled shyly. “Yes. I’ve always loved making a statement.”

  I leaned out the window and gazed up, squinting against the sun. “This certainly makes a statement.”

  Alice leaned in and whispered, “Wait until you see the inside.”

  Marble as far as the eye could see. Gold detailing on all the trim and columns, murals on the domed ceilings, and lavish velvet and intricately carved wooden furniture filled every room with more riches than any one person could ever possibly take in. I had the feeling I could wander the house for years and still not enjoy every detail in every room.

  Had the driver not carried in my luggage and handed it to a servant to take to my room, I would have forgotten it completely. I followed Aunt Sarah through the house while she remarked on the mundane uses of every extraordinary room.

  “This is the dining room,” she said, pointing to a table as long as the Hutchins’ bungalow. “Clearly.”

  She showed me the kitchens, which had the lowest ceilings and least natural light because they were mostly utilized by the servants, but were still extraordinary. By the time we made it to the sitting room—the fireplace was framed in a border of cut marble that had been lain to look like floral bouquets—I wanted to close my eyes to try and absorb what I’d already seen before taking in any more.

  The guest rooms were, thankfully, less opulent. The fabrics hanging from the four-poster beds were lush and many of the fine detailings from the rest of the house were repeated for the sake of continuity, but I felt comfortable in these rooms. One of them would be a fine place to call home for awhile.

  Seeing the luxury around me, I almost felt guilty for pushing Graham into a hotel room. He could have stayed in a guest room on the opposite side of the mansion, and we never would have run into one another.

  Aunt Sarah showed me to the end of a hall and pushed open a heavy wooden door. “This will be your room for as long as you are staying here. Which, you should know, may be as long as you like.”

  “Thank you for your kindness,” I said. “I can see already you are a very generous host.”

  She tucked her hands in front of her simple blue dress that hung slightly too long on her small frame. She hardly looked like a woman who would be the owner of a home so grand. “These halls have been quiet too long. Having Catherine and Alice these last few months has been a delight. And the way they talk about you, I know we will all become a very happy family, indeed.”

  “Indeed,” I agreed.

  She beamed at me, and then shook her head like she’d just remembered something. “Now, I ought to let you get settled. You are no doubt weary from travel. Dinner will be served at seven, but my kitchen is open to you anytime. Please, make yourself at home here. Whatever is mine, is yours, dear Rose.”

  After Aunt Sarah left, I finished pulling out the few items in the bottom of the trunk the servants had left alone—letters from the Ashtons, my cousins, and Achilles; a photo of a young Rose with her parents that had been given to me by Lady Ashton when she realized very little of Rose’s personal belongings had been delivered to me; and the golden locket I had carried with me since leaving New York.

  I’d worn it for years, never taking it off because of its connection to my old life. To New York, my parents, my brother. Although my promise to find my brother was now settled, being back in this city again stirred up old memories. I found myself reaching into the bottom of the trunk and pulling the locket over my head. It settled against my chest, and I had just tucked it beneath the collar of my dress when there was a light knock on my bedroom door. Before I could go to open it, the door opened and Catherine stepped inside.

  “Sorry to intrude,” she said, not looking sorry in the least.

  I was about to tease her on the matter when I noted her face. The warm smile she’d greeted me with at the dock was gone. She wore a weary expression, lines forming around her eyes and mouth that I couldn’t believe I didn’t notice sooner.

  She seemed so happy at the docks, as fierce and vibrant as ever, that I had almost begun to doubt whether anything was wrong at all. I wondered if I hadn’t imagined a problem as an excuse to come back to New York City. But the moment she pushed the door shut behind her and turned to face me, I knew I’d been correct. Something was wrong.

  “What is it, cousin?” I asked.
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  “It has been months since we’ve seen one another. Is it not allowed for me to want to be near you?”

  “It is allowed,” I said with a smile. Though unusual. Catherine had always seemed content to keep her distance. From me and even her friends and family. She was not silly or flirtatious or a gossip. But she had an iron will and a scathing glare she had no qualms about using. It made her intimidating. My guess had always been that she preferred to be alone and people preferred to steer clear of her wrath.

  But I couldn’t imagine this Catherine intimidating anyone. She looked exhausted.

  “So, you must tell me about your betrothed,” I said, deciding directness would be the best strategy. “Your letter teased of the story of your meeting, but I was denied the details.”

  She sighed like it cost her to retell the story, but then began to recite the details as if reading from a script. “We were at the embassy for one reason or another regarding our stay in New York when a group of men in suits came through the front doors. Alice, of course, paid fierce attention to them, and while I was teasing her about being a shameless flirt, one of the men stepped forward from the group and introduced himself.”

  “Your Charles?” I asked.

  She nodded, a light flickering in her eyes. “Yes, my Charles. He told me instantly that I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and he would rather die than never see me again.”

  “Quite the romantic,” I said.

  Catherine’s smile grew slightly warmer, her cheeks coloring. “You haven’t the faintest idea, Rose. He is always complimenting me and doting on me. Even Alice, the most romantic person either of us knows, finds our courtship nauseating.”

  “So, it was love at first sight?”

  “It was,” Catherine said, and the light that seemed to shine out of her eclipsed all the opulent decorations in the room. She was radiant when talking about her fiancé. So, I couldn’t imagine what the issue could be.

  “You must be excited to introduce him to your parents, then,” I said. “And will the wedding be held in London or at the family estate in Somerset? You could make either lovely, but the Somerset foliage in the fall would be heavenly. You’d hardly have need of decorations.”

  Catherine seemed to sag where she stood to the point I worried she would tip over. “I haven’t thought much about the wedding, if I’m being quite honest.”

  I frowned. “That seems unlike you.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, looking down at the floor.

  I crossed the room to wrap an arm around her waist and led her to the tufted chairs in front of the fireplace where we both sat facing one another. To further prove she was not behaving as herself, she did not fight me once. I reached out and took her hands in mine. “Please tell me what is wrong.”

  “Can you tell so easily?” she asked. “No one else has seemed to notice anything is amiss. Not even Alice. If they have, they are afraid to mention it.”

  “People are not always as perceptive as we hope them to be. But I wondered if something wasn’t wrong when I received your letter.”

  She smiled at me, and though it seemed to strain her, it looked genuine. “You are just as clever as I hoped, Rose.”

  I shrugged. “It was simple enough to guess at. When has Catherine Beckingham ever begged anyone for anything? If you were begging me, I knew things had to be dire.”

  “They are,” she said, tucking one ankle under the other and folding her fingers nervously in her lap. “It is about Charles.”

  “I suspected as much.”

  She nodded and continued. “He has changed, Rose. In the weeks since we met, he has become a different person.”

  “Has he become violent?” I asked. “Has he hurt you?”

  Her eyes widened in shock. “No, of course not. Never. He dotes on me as he always has.”

  I sighed in relief. “Then how has he changed?”

  Catherine’s short blonde hair curled over her ear, and she reached a hand up to tuck it back into place, chewing nervously on her lip. “He has always been a light, happy man. I do not know that I’ve heard him speak a negative word in all the time we’ve known one another.”

  I must have looked just as surprised as I felt because when Catherine looked up at me, her face twisted into disapproval and she reached out and pinched my arm.

  I yelped. “Catherine!”

  “I know what you were thinking,” she said. “Exactly what everyone else has been thinking. What could a man like Charles Cresswell possibly want with her?”

  “No, in fact,” I said, rubbing the sore spot on my arm and trying not to laugh. “I was thinking it was a wonder you liked him. I always imagined you would meet a man much like yourself.”

  “And what would a man like that be like?” she asked, trying to entrap me.

  “Beautiful and charming,” I said, winking at her.

  Catherine rolled her eyes, looking hardly convinced, and leaned back in her chair to continue. “In any case, his demeanor has changed. He is withdrawn, speaking very little of his day-to-day, and has become secretive. He rarely tells me where he is going or when he will be back. We do not go out together as often as we once did. He favors staying indoors, and is hesitant to meet new people.”

  “It is not uncommon for people to change once they are in a relationship,” I said, though I had no such experience. Working for the Beckinghams in India had kept me busy, and my time since had been filled with mystery and murder to the point that a suitor would have been a dangerous distraction. Still, I could guess at his motivations. “Perhaps, he now favors spending time alone with you rather than going out.”

  “Perhaps,” Catherine allowed. “Though that would not explain the secretiveness.”

  “No, it wouldn’t. Do you have any idea what could be causing this?”

  “I am not the one who spent time with a world-renowned detective,” she snapped. Then, she shook her head. “Forgive me. I do have a thought. It’s just not a very nice one.”

  I reached out and touched her folded hands gently. “Our conversation will not leave this room. You can be candid.”

  Catherine bit her lower lip, which looked ragged from her nervous chewing, and loosed a shaky exhale. “I don’t want to believe it, but it is possible he has changed his mind about marrying me and is just too kind to say so.”

  I shook my head instantly. “A truly kind man would never play with your heart in such a cruel way. If that is the reason for his sudden change in behavior, then he has never been kind and you are better without him.”

  Catherine managed a weak smile. “It is just that nothing else seems to explain the circumstances as thoroughly as that. And whether he is unkind or not, I still love him.” She turned her face away from me, and I could see tears welling in her eyes. “Deeply.”

  Seeing Catherine so vulnerable was rare, and I knew she was opening up to me in a way she hadn’t to anyone else. She was allowing me into her world, and I did not want to ruin it. So, I spanned the distance between us and laid a hand on her shoulder. “I am sorry.”

  My words seemed to bring her back to herself, and she sat up straighter, pointed chin jutting out. “I did not bring you here to be a sympathetic ear. I have plenty of those around should I require one.”

  I pulled my hand back. “Oh? Why did you bring me here, then?”

  “Are we going to pretend you haven’t solved murders, one of which was committed by my brother and your cousin?” she asked, the glassiness in her eyes gone, replaced with the stoniness I remembered. “Obviously, I brought you here to assist me in uncovering the reason behind his sudden transformation. Even though I have my own theory, I am desperate for it to be wrong, which is why I wrote to you.”

  “I was never hired to solve those cases,” I argued. The only case I’d been formally asked to investigate was an art theft. And I’d accompanied Achilles Prideaux to Morocco, but that had been his case, no matter how much I stuck my nose into the details.

  “That does not
change the fact that you did,” Catherine said. “And if you are willing to assist strangers, how could you refuse your family? Your blood, Rose?”

  Once again, Catherine was begging, but this time it was in person. Reading it in writing had been compelling, but seeing the pull of her brows, the woeful downturn of her lips, made it almost impossible to refuse her.

  I sighed. “I cannot make any promises, but I will do my best to uncover…something.”

  Catherine clapped her hands together as though she’d just completed a tedious chore and then stood up, smoothing down her dress. “That is wonderful to hear, dearest cousin, because Charles is on his way to the house as we speak to meet you. He will be joining us this evening for dinner.”

  My mouth gaped and too many questions to sort through filled my head, but before I could say anything, Catherine spun on her heel and left the room.

  5

  Catherine paced in the entryway for the entire hour before Charles arrived for dinner. She was dressed in a beaded gown that cut a clean line down her trim frame, glittering fringe hanging from the bottom. Her hair was glossy and freshly curled with a feathered headband holding it in place. She looked lovely—maybe a touch too lovely for the occasion. And frantic.

  Even Alice took notice.

  “You’re going to wear grooves into the marble,” she said, perched in a chair in the sitting room. She was leaning forward to look at her sister around an open French door. “Come sit and talk with me. You will spend the rest of the night with Charles anyway.”

  “You will understand when you have a suitor of your own,” Catherine said.

  “I understand now,” Alice said. “I am not a child. But until I have a suitor of my own, you should come keep me company.”

  “Let Rose keep you company. She hasn’t even been here one entire day. You haven’t yet wearied her with your constant chatter.”

  “You’ve kept her to yourself, as well,” Alice grumbled. “You two were gossiping most of the afternoon and no one invited me. Just because I do not travel the world with different men or have a fiancé doesn’t mean I don’t have anything interesting to say. You’d be surprised what I overhear.”