A Sudden Passing Page 8

  “I left because I wanted to salvage what remained of our friendship,” I said.

  He looked at me for a moment, eyes wide, and then shook his head. “Forgive my disbelief, Miss Beckingham, but when you fled from my company in the cover of darkness, I considered if the end to our friendship.”

  “Surely your feelings are not so precious as to be wounded by only that,” I teased. Our relationship had always been biting, and I did not want to set the precedent for anything less now. Though emotions had threatened to turn our friendship into something more meaningful, and I was certain Achilles was remembering those feelings now, there had not been time nor space for those feelings to mature. So, I still considered us to be friends. I hoped he felt the same.

  “The nature of my feelings would surprise you,” he said more seriously than I expected.

  I did not want to know what that meant, so I carried on as though he hadn’t spoken at all. “Now, it is once again your turn to answer a question. What are you doing here?”

  “I told you,” he said. “I thought you might be here.”

  “Yes, but why would you want to see me?” I asked.

  He raised a dark eyebrow at me. “You have said we are friends. Don’t friends visit one another?”

  I sighed and moved to smooth my hands down the front of my skirt when I remembered the newspaper article in my hand. When I looked back up at Achilles, an idea was forming in my mind.

  Achilles’ eyes narrowed. “You have had an idea.”

  “Excuse me?” I asked.

  “I recognize that look in your eyes. It almost always accompanies you doing something reckless.”

  I felt my face flush at the reality that Achilles knew me so well, but I ignored it and shook my head. “Nothing reckless. I only realized that your following me may be quite beneficial to a case I am working on.”

  “I am not following you,” Achilles said, his stern tone accompanied with a finger point. Then he relaxed back into the bench. “And I should have known you were on a case. Though, I must say, good manners should prohibit you from asking me for a favor so soon after our reunion, especially after the way we left things.”

  “No one has ever accused me of good manners.”

  Achilles almost smiled. “What is troubling you, Rose?”

  “Nothing too serious, I assure you,” I said. “I am assisting a friend in a case, and I am in need of—”

  “What case?” he asked.

  “It is a private matter.” Catherine had asked for privacy, and though I knew I could trust Achilles, I did not want to betray my cousin’s trust.

  “I know of your activities in Simla,” he said softly.

  I’d wondered whether Achilles had heard news of what I’d done there. Who I had killed.

  “I am a grown woman, Achilles. I do not need your watchful eye.”

  “I know.” He shifted on the bench, crossing one leg over the other.

  “And yet, you have, what? Had me followed? Was I under constant watch during my time in Simla?” For a moment, the idea that Graham could have been working for Achilles, sending him updates, crossed my mind, but I dismissed it immediately. Graham’s motives and motivations were much too transparent. I would have suspected him of suspicious connections early on in our friendship.

  “I have connections everywhere,” Achilles said. “Some of them who knew of our friendship reached out to me. I only learned of the death of Mr. Barlow after the fact. You are lucky to be alive.”

  Achilles had already admitted to knowing of my whereabouts, but the reality that he knew where I was and what I had been doing unnerved me. I’d wondered about him during my time in Simla, but he had not needed to worry about me. I wondered if he knew of Graham Collins. “Disposing of two international assassins hardly seems like luck, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “You are very skilled, but I wish you would not think yourself invincible. Taking on another assassin alone would be unwise.”

  “Then you’ll be pleased to know I’m no longer on the hunt for assassins,” I said coolly. “But I am on the hunt for information.”

  “As I’m sure you know, I am at your disposal, Miss Beckingham.”

  For a short while in Morocco, Achilles called me Nellie. The name had felt strange after so long without it, but now, it felt strange to hear him call me Miss Beckingham. With Achilles, I was never quite sure who I was supposed to be.

  “As we’ve already discussed, you have many useful connections,” I said, sounding only slightly bitter. “I wonder if you could reassign the connections who have been watching me to another task.”

  “No one was assigned to watch you,” he spat, growing frustrated with the repeated charge of having me followed.

  I continued as though I hadn’t heard him, though my tone softened. “I need a list of every person in attendance at the 1919 conference in Paris.”

  “That is an impressive task.” He sat tall as if ready to rush from the bench and get to work. Achilles truly was a detective at heart. He was driven by mystery, drawn to finding answers no matter how difficult it might be.

  “It is,” I said. “The question is whether it is impossible?”

  Achilles had warned me against thinking myself invincible, but he had a bad habit of considering himself capable of anything. So, even the suggestion that this task was too complex would strengthen his resolve to see it through. I knew this and utilized it to my advantage.

  "Of course, it is not impossible,” he said. “But it may take longer than you like.”

  “As soon as possible is all I ask.”

  “That is all you ask,” he said, slightly mocking. “You have asked a great deal of me since we became friends eight months ago.”

  “Only eight months?” I mused, biting my lip to stop from smiling at his admission that we were still friends. “It seems we have been friends for longer than that.”

  He hummed an uncommitted response. “And I would like to be friends for longer, so promise me you will be cautious.”

  “I always am, Achilles,” I lied. We both knew that was not true.

  Achilles stood up, tapped his cane on the ground, and replaced his hat on top of his head. When he looked down at me, his eyes were cast in shadow, but his lips were curled upwards beneath the thin line of his mustache. “Should I reach out to you at the home where you cousins are staying or would you like for our communication to be more discreet?”

  I should have known he knew where in the city I was staying. He had pretended as though finding me at my parents’ old apartment was a lucky coincidence, but I wondered whether he hadn’t followed me.

  “I do not want anyone to know we are once again in communication,” I said, thinking of Alice and Catherine who had hinted they believed me and Achilles to be in love, but also Graham. I did not want him to know of Achilles. In many ways, they were two sides of the same coin, one dark and one light. One an international man of mystery, the other an open book. I had no desire for them to meet. “But I trust you can be discreet however you choose to reach out again.”

  “I will speak to you soon, Rose.” He nodded once and then walked down the street. I watched him go, and when he turned the corner, I almost couldn’t believe he’d really been there at all.

  11

  I expected Graham to be waiting for me at Aunt Sarah’s when I returned, but instead I found Catherine, Alice, and Aunt Sarah in the sitting room, a tower of biscuits, scones, and pastries in front of them. As soon as my presence became known, they waved me into the room.

  “You are finally home,” Alice said, as though we had arranged a meeting.

  “I thought we’d have to send one of the servants out to search for you,” Catherine said, looking half-serious.

  Only Aunt Sarah stayed quiet, smiling and patting the seat next to her on the velvet sofa, which I gladly took. “What is this? Are you having a tea party?”

  “We are not children,” Alice snapped, annoyed at my dismissal of what she clearly saw as
a sophisticated affair. “We are helping Catherine plan her wedding.”

  Catherine looked away at this, focusing intently on the cold fireplace.

  “I don’t know anything about weddings,” I admitted. “I’m not sure how much help I’ll be.”

  “You are a woman of taste, aren’t you?” Alice asked.

  “Depending who you ask,” I teased.

  Aunt Sarah laid a hand on my shoulder. “Of course, you are, dear. All three of you have exquisite taste. You’ll plan a wonderful event.”

  “You are helping, too, Aunt Sarah,” Alice said. “There is a lot to think about, and you have more experience than any of us.”

  “Because I’m an old woman?” Aunt Sarah asked, one eyebrow lifted.

  Alice’s eyes went wide and panicked for a moment before Aunt Sarah laughed. “I’m the only one here who has actually been married. I know that is what you meant.”

  Catherine had promised an explanation of Aunt Sarah’s situation, but there hadn’t been time. Not with Charles’ strange behavior and Graham showing up at every spare moment. But it was simple enough to deduce that her husband had died, and his inheritance went to Aunt Sarah. She never spoke of having children, and I hadn’t noticed any sign of pictures or portraits of them throughout the house, so it was just her now. Her family history made it clear why women’s rights was an important issue for her.

  “Exactly,” Alice said, clearly relieved. Then, she pulled out a piece of paper where she had scribbled a list. “First, would you like to be married in London or Somerset?”

  There was a long pause and everyone turned to look at Catherine, who was clutching her China cup with both hands, eyes vacant and staring.

  “Catherine?” Alice prodded, poking her sister with a finger.

  Catherine jolted and clutched at her arm. “Ouch. Why did you do that?”

  “This meeting is to assist you with wedding plans,” Alice snapped. “The least you could do is pay attention. Where would you like to be married?”

  “I haven’t thought much about it,” Catherine said with a sigh.

  Alice shook her head, her short brown curls bouncing around her ears, disappointed. “As I see it, there are only two options: London or Somerset.”

  Catherine glanced at me quickly before looking back at the floor, and I could see something was wrong. Clearly, this gathering had not been her idea. She had no desire to discuss wedding plans, which meant something must have happened with Charles to have her more upset than usual.

  “That is a rather large decision,” I said, jumping in. “Somerset is lovely, but London has many benefits, as well. Perhaps, we could start with a simpler decision.”

  Alice looked at her sister for a moment, waiting to see if Catherine would contradict my decision. When she didn’t, instead taking a long sip of her tea, Alice looked back to her list, her finger skimming down to the bottom of the paper. “Most of the decisions depend upon the location. Decorations, seating, wedding date—all decisions that are dependent on whether the wedding will be in a church or at the country estate.”

  “Charles and I will set our own wedding date,” Catherine said.

  “What about a dress?” Alice asked with a slump of her shoulders. “We could have one made here in New York and take it with us back to London. Or you could have it done in London, though depending on the date you set, the designer might not be able to get it done in time. Charlotte Faybury has been doing our dresses for years, but I have never seen her take on an elegant gown.”

  “Maybe,” Catherine said, barely paying attention.

  Alice sat on the edge of the sofa, practically bouncing with excitement. “I saw a wonderful dress shop while I was exploring the city with Graham and Rose. I could take you there and see if any of the designs jump out at you. If not, I’m sure they could make something to your specifications. Women in London are always saying the best fashion comes from New York, anyway. Your gown would be the envy of everyone.”

  “There are many good designers here,” Aunt Sarah agreed. “I’d be happy to introduce you to my favorites.”

  Alice gasped. “Or Paris. We could have father send us to Paris. Can you imagine?”

  “No, I can’t,” Catherine said, but Alice was so wrapped up in her ideas, scribbling down more items on her list, that she didn’t know the glassy look in her sister’s eyes.

  “Where are you two going to live?” Alice asked, brows knit together in concern. “You will live in America, won’t you? Will you live in Charles’ house? It is barely big enough for the two of you, so I don’t see how there will be room for guests. How am I supposed to come stay with you if you don’t have a proper guest room?”

  “My house is plenty big,” Aunt Sarah said. “You can stay with me when you come to the city.”

  Alice smiled at her aunt, but did not look convinced. “Catherine, you should tell Charles to find a new house.”

  “Charles may not want a new house,” Catherine said.

  “He would do anything to make you happy, and a bigger house would make longer visits much more comfortable for everyone.”

  Catherine’s fingers were nearly white around the cup, and I worried she would shatter it in her hands.

  “I just remembered,” I said, moving to stand up. “I made plans with Graham today. Maybe we could reschedule wedding planning for another afternoon?”

  Alice shook her head. “Graham already came by, and I sent him away.”

  “He came by?” I asked.

  “You sound surprised,” Alice said. “I thought you had plans?”

  “We did. He must have come early.”

  Alice pursed her lips. “Regardless, I told him the women of this family needed to spend time together without any manly company and he said he would call on you tomorrow.”

  Perhaps, Alice was feeling more left out than I’d realized to go as far as to plan this event and turn Graham away. She seemed so smitten with him over the last few days that I would have thought her incapable of sending him away.

  “Now,” Alice said, clapping her hands together in excitement. “Do we have thoughts on flowers? I like white lilies, but I know Catherine prefers roses. Does Charles have a favorite flower? Men don’t usually care about these kinds of things, but it doesn’t hurt to ask.”

  “I don’t know,” Catherine said.

  Alice’s brow furrowed in frustration, and I could practically see her expectations clashing with the reality of this lackluster planning meeting. Catherine was barely participating, and Alice had gone to great lengths to make it a nice event. “Catherine, I don’t mean to be rude, but do you even want to get married?”

  Catherine’s head snapped up, her blue eyes icy. “For not meaning to be rude, your words certainly are effective.”

  “I’m sorry,” Alice said, not sounding sorry in the least. “But I have never met a bride less interested in her own nuptials. I thought you would enjoy talking through the details.”

  “I’m just…” Catherine paused and swallowed. “I’m just not sure.”

  “What about dinner?” Alice asked, looking over her list. “Do we want to hire it out or would the kitchen staff suffice?”

  Suddenly, Catherine jolted to her feet, a bit of tea splashing out of her cup and onto the floor. Alice pulled her foot away from the spill and studied her slipper to make sure it was clean.

  “I’m tired,” Catherine said, setting her cup on the table. She looked at us for a moment, blinking back the beginnings of tears, and then rushed from the room before anyone could respond.

  “I do not understand her,” Alice said, throwing her list on top of an iced scone.

  “She said she was tired,” I said, trying to ease away the tension. “I’m sure there is nothing else to it.”

  “No,” Aunt Sarah said, shaking her head. “Something is wrong. Catherine has grown quiet these last few weeks.”

  “Has something happened between her and Charles?” Alice asked. “I would guess they had called off
the wedding except they were never apart last night. Have I done something wrong?”

  “Catherine has never been the type to stay quiet when it came to trouble between the two of you,” Aunt Sarah said. “I’m sure it isn’t you.”

  Alice crossed her arms over her chest, looking more like a small child than I had ever seen, and pouted out her lower lip. “I don’t care anything about wedding planning, but I made an effort for her sake. It would be nice if she could make an effort in return.”

  “I don’t think it has anything to do with you, Alice,” I said.

  Alice looked unconvinced and stared stonily at her list that was absorbing more oil from the sugary icing with every second.

  “I’ll go talk with her,” I said, standing up. “I will try to see if I can tell what is going on.”

  Alice huffed. “She would rather speak to you, anyway, I’m sure.”

  I wanted to comfort Alice, but I couldn’t without revealing Catherine’s secret and my purpose in New York City, so I just slipped from the room and walked up the stairs to Catherine’s door. She opened it before I could knock.

  “I sense there might be something wrong,” I said, closing the door behind me.

  Catherine opened her mouth before thinking better of it. She moved to the door and yanked it open, looking around the corner to see if Alice was lurking outside. When she closed it, she grabbed my hand and pulled me to the far corner of the room nearest the window.

  In the daylight, I could see the dark circles under eyes, the hollows along her cheekbones. She looked more worn and gaunt than I had ever seen her. “Things are growing worse.”

  “With Charles?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  “You two seemed fine at the party last night. Did something happen afterwards to upset you?”

  “No,” she said. “Well, yes. Everything is upsetting. The man you saw at the party was an imposter.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What do you mean? I saw him, Catherine. It was Charles. Do you mean he isn’t really Charles Cresswell?”