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Anne Macmillan’s house was still lit up when Grace arrived home from the disastrous soirée. Grace had expected her great-aunt to be in bed at this late hour. Their friend and lodger, Lily Wu, was not one for late nights either. Not wanting to face questions from Anne and Lily tonight, Grace turned the key gently and eased the door closed behind her. She needn’t have bothered. The noise emanating from the drawing room was as merry as Hogmanay.
Grace hung up her cloak and stripped off her long gloves, which were soiled with leaf litter and mud. As she walked up the hallway, intending to sneak up the stairs, the changing angle of view revealed the silhouette of a tall, muscular man in the light of the drawing room. He stood with his feet apart, redolent with natural authority. Grace took a step back into the shadows of the hallway to calm her racing pulse.
Not an hour ago, she had been on her knees amongst the autumn leaves beside a dying man, praying for the miracle of Charlie Pyke’s presence. And now here he was, and she was not sure she could face him. When last she saw him, she had laid her heart bare and Charlie had left anyway, intending to visit his parents in Central Otago, to decide his future. Part of her ached to hear his decision, part of her dreaded it. And the part of her trying to keep sanity afloat after Ormsby’s shocking death screamed “not tonight”.
Before Grace could retreat, Lily appeared in the doorway, arm-in-arm with a woman who could have been her twin. Not quite as petite as Lily, but with the same jet-black hair, litheness of movement and almond eyes inherited from their Chinese father. Even before the woman came close enough for Grace to note her emerald eyes, flecked with gold, she was in no doubt this woman was Mrs Jasmine Pyke, Charlie’s mother.
Grace shuttered her mixed emotions behind a smile. “Mrs Pyke. How lovely to meet you. Had I known you were coming, I would not have accepted an invitation to Ormsby’s soirée.” How she wished she hadn’t.
Jasmine Pyke closed the gap between them with the same disconcerting speed and dancer’s grace as her son, flinging her arms around Grace and embracing her as if she was a long-lost daughter. “Miss Penrose, I have heard so much about you, I feel as if I have known you for years. I hope you will forgive my excitement at meeting you at last.”
“I only received Jasmine’s telegram two days ago, advising of their early arrival,” Lily explained. “Being unsure of their exact arrival time and with Anne wanting you to attend the soirée, we decided to let it be a surprise. Did you achieve your objective tonight, Grace?”
“Er ... in a way. Doctor Ormsby will no longer interfere with the original plan for the hospital.” The last thing Grace wanted was to greet Charlie’s mother with the news of a death. Grace’s growing reputation for corpse-gathering was already far worse than any sensible mother would accept for her son. Grace was desperate to go upstairs and change her gown, which still showed traces of mud about the lower portions.
Jasmine linked her arm with Grace’s. “Do come and meet my husband, Miss Penrose. May I call you Grace? Lily has assured me Anne prefers informality.” Charlie’s mother led her up the hall to the drawing room, giving her no option but to comply. “Thomas, darling, come and meet Grace.”
The familiar silhouette turned, but it was not Charlie. Instead, Grace found herself staring at a grey-haired, brown-eyed version of what Charlie might look like in another quarter of a century. She tried to imagine life in 1917, but it was an inconceivably distant future for a woman of twenty-two to contemplate.
Sergeant Thomas Pyke stepped towards her with the vigour of a man half his age. Charlie’s father took her hand and raising it to his lips with an elegance more akin to an aristocrat than a back-country policeman. “Miss Penrose, delighted to meet you at last.”
“Likewise, Sergeant Pyke. Forgive my distraction. You are so like your son, it is quite disconcerting.”
“Charlie will be sorry to have missed your arrival. When he heard you were out at a soirée, he and Alistair went off to deal with a matter of business at Mr Drummond’s house. I expect they will all return shortly.”
Grace nodded dumbly. It seemed she was not only going to have to face Charlie without time to prepare herself, after a harrowing evening, but also in the presence of his nearest and dearest. She had expected Charlie’s parents to arrive next week for the wedding of Lily and Alistair Stewart. Alistair was already like family to them, being Charlie’s former Detective Inspector, as well as an old friend of his father. Charlie had been delighted when his Aunt Lily and Alistair had fallen in love.
Grace felt a tug on her arm, as Jasmine Pyke diverted her to a quiet spot in the corner of the room. Let the interrogation begin.
“Forgive our unexpected arrival, Grace. We didn’t wish to risk missing my sister’s wedding. Some years, autumn snow closes the road for days. Fortunately, Thomas now has a constable with sufficient gumption to take sole charge of the district for an extended period.”
“Lily will be thrilled to have you here, Mrs Pyke. I know your sister misses you a great deal.”
“And I her. Your great-aunt has been kind enough to offer us a place to stay for as long as we wish. Charlie and Alistair are staying with Mr Drummond.” Jasmine contemplated her silently for a moment. “Grace, I’m not sure how much Charlie would wish me to say. Or rather, if I am honest, I know my son would prefer my silence.”
Jasmine’s eyes and expression were so close a match to Charlie’s that Grace’s mind played tricks on her, as if this woman was speaking his words. “I am a forthright woman, Mrs Pyke. I would prefer to hear the truth, no matter the consequences. If your son does not wish to tell me himself, then I should be glad to hear it from you. I take it Charlie does not intend to stay in Dunedin after the wedding.”
Jasmine cut in. “No, no, that’s not it at all! Oh dear, I fear I am making a muddle of this. Charlie is not reluctant to see you, Grace. Indeed, he is eager to talk to you himself. He has been like a bee in a field of flowers since he arrived in Clyde, flitting from one thing to another, unable to settle. What he may not tell you is that he insisted on leaving early, because he had a strong premonition that you needed him. The rational-minded policeman in him puts it down to missing your company, which he undoubtedly does. He will be very relieved to see you in such an excellent state of health. Looking very beautiful, if I might say so, in that exquisite gown. May I ask – is there any cause for his troubling intuition?”
“I’m afraid there is, Mrs Pyke. It seems I am about to become embroiled in another police investigation. I hope my part in the matter is quickly over, so we can concentrate on the joy of Lily and Alistair’s wedding. They are a fine match.”
Jasmine glanced at her sister, who was chatting and laughing with Thomas Pyke. “To see Lily happy again was one of my fondest hopes. My husband tells me there is no better man than Alistair Stewart. The day you and Anne took Lily into your home was the turning point in her life. We will be forever grateful.”
As that day was also the first time Grace met Charlie, she felt the same emotion. “Lily has been a blessing to us, Mrs Pyke. Anne would have struggled to cope alone with all the patients who flock to Lavender House, especially with me busy studying to be a doctor. Although, it is also true that I may not have gained entry to medical school if it had not been for the fortuitous meeting with your son.”
Jasmine’s eyes crinkled above an enigmatic smile. “Happenstance? Or destiny? Either way, a joyous day for both my family and yours. In more ways than one, I hope.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Grace noticed Charlie Pyke enter the room, flanked by Alistair Stewart and Kenneth Drummond. As physically mismatched a group of men as one could imagine, although united in their intellect and compassion.
Former Detective Inspector Alistair Stewart was slight, dapper and middle-aged. He exuded the languid air of a gentleman of leisure, neatly disguising his stiletto-sharp brain and legendary detective skills. His elegant countenance softened into a smile at the sight of his betrothed enjoying her family’s company. Mr Drummond’s gaze swept the room for Anne Macmillan, before turning to Grace, with a nod. Drummond was tall, stooped, and elderly, looking exactly like the astute retired attorney that he was.
And Charlie Pyke, whose presence dominated a room despite his youth, with his father’s stature and natural authority, and his mother’s feline grace, black hair and gold-flecked green eyes.
Charlie had been Alistair’s detective constable until recent events curtailed his career in the police force. Now, his future was uncertain. Grace felt sure Charlie had the intelligence and character to make a success of any career that took his fancy, especially given his uncanny ability to pass for anything from a dim-witted, barrel-lugging labourer to a gentleman born to power and privilege. The question was, what did he want and would it be found in Dunedin?
Charlie stood observing her, not moving to greet her. He watched her from the corner of his eye, as if she was a suspect in one of his investigations. Grace wished she had had time to change out of her evening gown, which was far too formal for the occasion, but was unable to move for fear that he would vanish again in a puff of smoke.
The conflicting events of the day rose up in a concerted tangle of emotion and squeezed the breath out of her lungs.