CHAPTER
Twenty-Seven

It seems rather late for a chat, doesn’t it?”

Her words hit Douglas like the hot breeze that teased the loose wisps of hair around her face. If it was true that Clapper had manipulated events to get her wrongly removed from her position, then Douglas was now seeing a demonstration of pure righteous indignation. Alice probably felt utterly betrayed and abandoned.

He tried to think of a response that might alleviate her anger. “Well, I tried looking for you several times at the bookshop, but I was never able to catch you. I had no luck finding your address in the company files, either. Happily, Miss Waller was able to give me the name of the street where you live.”

“You had to search for me?” For a brief moment, she seemed to soften. But then she clenched her fists tighter. “Did you wish to acknowledge that I was scandalously treated by Henley and Company? If so, I quite agree with that assessment. But in the end, it does not signify. I have quite gotten over it and am moving on in other directions. Good day, sir.”

She was actually going to walk away! After all he’d done to find her!

Scrambling for a way to stop her, Douglas tossed out the first question he could come up with. “Was that Mrs. Bennington I saw you with just now in the carriage?”

She paused. Her shoulders visibly tightened. She made a sharp turn to face him. “Why yes, it was. I’ve just had a most excellent tea at her home with her brother. He asked me to marry him.”

Douglas gasped. “The sailor?”

She crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “He’s a cargo master. It’s a position of great responsibility. He has a cabin almost as big as the captain’s.”

Why was she telling him this? Douglas stood frozen in shock. The satisfied look on her face was probably an indication that this was exactly the effect she’d been going for.

Mrs. Bennington had mentioned her brother Fred that night at Ally Pally. But Alice had never spoken of him. She’d spoken only of remaining unmarried as her life’s goal! Was this other fellow going to beat Douglas out for the privilege of winning over the world’s most desirable and determined spinster? Surely it could not be true.

He expected her to continue—dreading but at the same time unable to believe she’d announce that she’d accepted Fred. But she was apparently waiting for him to speak. Well, then, he would. It was clear he’d fallen pretty far in her estimation. He had to win back her respect.

He swallowed. “I want you to know that I had nothing to do with your being dismissed. I had no knowledge of it at the time, and I protested vigorously to Henley the moment I found out about it. I don’t believe for a minute you sent that erroneous message, either maliciously or by mistake. I also want you to know that I hold you in the highest esteem. I would never try to hurt you.”

Something flickered in her eyes. Was he getting through? His hope grew as her gaze hung on his for a long moment. But then she blinked. “Actions speak louder than words, Mr. Shaw. Are you still employed by Henley and Company?”

“Yes.”

“And are you still—” She paused, sucked in a breath, and began again. “And does the current black mark on my record—the one leaving me without work or references—still stand?”

“Yes,” he was forced to admit.

“I see.”

There was heavy censure in those two words. Douglas had shown himself powerless to do anything about what had happened to her. He didn’t know what kind of man Fred was, but he knew that as for himself, he had fallen very short of the mark. He said in desperation, “You’re not really going to marry that sailor, are you?”

She looked at him, her head slightly tilted, as though his question had caught her by surprise. He thought he glimpsed the vulnerability he’d seen moments ago. But then she turned away. “I cannot talk any more today, Mr. Shaw. I’ve many important things to attend to.”

“Alice . . .” He said her name as an entreaty.

She turned back once more. “You might want to go back to reading Morse code off the tape, Mr. Shaw. Your hearing doesn’t seem to work very well anymore.”

This time when she walked off, Douglas didn’t try to stop her. He saw everything clearly now. She wasn’t going to accept words, only actions. He’d spent days searching for her when he ought to have been searching for answers instead.

Alice stopped when she got to her doorstep because there was a cat sitting on it, blocking her path. It looked up at her and meowed.

Even though her back was to Douglas, he could see her body go rigid with irritation. Finally, she bent down and scooped up the creature. Juggling it with one hand, she unlocked her door, stepped inside with the cat, and shut the door behind her.

Unwilling to leave just yet, Douglas stood pondering the situation.

Of all the things she’d said, it was the things she hadn’t said—or hadn’t allowed herself to say—that spoke loudest to him.

“And are you—” she’d begun to ask him. What had been on the tip of her tongue? Are you still pursuing Miss Rolland? He happily would have answered that question. But she hadn’t given him the chance.

He had work to do. He wasn’t going to rest until he had uncovered the truth about the events that led to her dismissal. She deserved to have her name cleared, and he was going to find a way to do it.

In some ways, it seemed absurd that Clapper would purposely put the company at risk. If Henley and Company folded, what other firm would hire such a surly, lazy man? On the other hand, Clapper would know the company could take a certain amount of loss and still survive. And in the meantime, he would have gotten rid of the woman he’d clearly resented. He must have orchestrated the business with the telegrams. All the paperwork Douglas had pored over had to be lacking some vital clue that could prove who really had done it.

Like a thunderbolt, it occurred to him there was one place he hadn’t yet looked. His next step was so obvious that he was ashamed at his stupidity for taking so long to think of it.

He took another moment to gaze at the house Alice had entered, memorizing the number posted in brass letters next to the door. Then he went home to pack his valise.

divider

By the time Alice reached her flat, her legs could barely carry her. They felt as wobbly as rubber. The stress of marshaling her anger, plus keeping her emotional distance from a man who seemed to have an irresistible magnetic pull on her, had worn her out. On top of it all, the cat had made her attempt at departing nobly look utterly ridiculous.

She dropped onto the sofa. The cat wriggled out of her arms, landing with a light thump on the floor. Alice looked wearily down at her. “Miss T, you were a naughty thing to block my doorstep. Were you trying to keep me out, or were you there to ensure I didn’t give in?”

Today, however, the cat was keeping her own counsel. She wandered off to the bedroom to take a nap on Alice’s bed.

Alice dropped her head back, closing her eyes and seeing only Douglas.

Lucy had been wrong. He had come back. He had not been complicit in her sacking. He believed in her. Everything in her life had been upended once more.

She’d been determined to give him no quarter, and yet he’d kept pressing, kept looking for a way into her heart. It had taken every ounce of strength she possessed to keep him out. She’d been right to do so, for the biggest problems had not been solved. The workplace disaster hung over them like a dark cloud. Nor had he said anything about Miss Rolland. Alice had been dangerously close to asking, but pride had stopped her just in time.

She couldn’t believe she’d told him about Fred’s proposal! What had she been thinking—that it would somehow impress him? That it would prove she was getting on with her life, as she’d claimed? Quite likely it had done neither of those things.

It had been worth it, though, to see the dismay on his face. It had, ever so briefly, fanned a flame of hope in her heart. A hope that he loved her. Alice was no longer going to deny that she loved him. Nothing could ever come of it, but there it was. She’d planned her life so carefully, but now she understood that the leanings of the heart followed no rules.

She sighed, bringing her hands to her eyes, feeling the cool moisture of tears. In this depressed state she lay, ruminating sadly over everything.

A knock at the door startled her back to a sitting position.

Although the front door was down a flight of stairs, she heard the knocking through her open window. Pushing herself to her feet, she went to the window and looked out to see who it was.

A telegraph delivery boy stood on the front step. He pushed back his cap as he looked up at her. “Miss Alice McNeil?”

“Yes, that’s me. Wait just one moment, please.”

Alice hurried to her bedroom to locate a coin for the boy. All the gloom she’d been feeling coalesced into worry. What if the telegram contained bad news? Perhaps her mother’s health was more frail than she’d realized. She ought to have heeded her sister’s admonitions to visit them more often.

Opening the door, she received the telegram and tipped the boy in return. With a quick thank-you and a tip of his hat, he raced off.

Alice tore open the telegram and quickly scanned its contents.

Even though it was signed as from the whole family, this missive was definitely the work of her sister, Annie. Of that, Alice had no doubt.

Annie had written several letters telling Alice about the party, a celebration of her parents’ fortieth wedding anniversary. Alice had been putting off her reply even though she knew, as the telegram stated, that she must go. She owed this to her parents. Such a milestone was not often achieved. Her father was nearing seventy, and her mother was not as vigorous as she’d once been, after bearing seven children. Alice loved her family dearly. She only hesitated because every time she went home, she faced an endless barrage of questions from her mother and sister, trying to ascertain if she had any gentlemen courting her and whether she was considering marriage. At least her brothers and father understood that she wanted and enjoyed this life she’d been living. They’d been happy for her successes.

And now?

Now she was mortified at the thought of going home. Aside from her shame at having lost her job, she would bring worries that would dampen a joyous celebration.

Expelling a deep sigh, Alice plodded back up the stairs, thinking over what to do. She spent a long time trying to decide how much of her troubles to reveal to her family. One thing she was determined not to do was mention Fred. Or Douglas.

She sniffled back a few more tears, then prepared to go out.

Although her family’s desire to see her was understandable, something in Alice’s soul balked at being ordered to go. She was half-tempted to keep them in suspense, not even sending a reply before she simply showed up on their doorstep. But then she decided there was no point in being contrary. She would wire back her response, despite the cost, and let them know she’d be arriving on the early train.

Besides, sending the telegram would give her a chance to see Rose. It was only an extra twenty minutes’ walk to reach the post office where she worked. The thought of seeing Rose cheered Alice, even though she knew full well what her friend would say about her troubles with men. Rose would insist that Alice was far better off to be rid of them all.

And, of course, she’d be right.