Chapter 14
Mere days into our marriage, and I’ve lost my husband already. Yesterday’s fish and chips roll about in my stomach as I edge toward the water to look for a head bobbing above the surface. Only fishing boats crowd the waters.
Watching the shore fill with tourists, I fist my skirts and make a run for the cave, searching for any evidence of AJ, any clue.
Shoes. AJ’s best shoes are here. So is his spare clothing. Everything he’s packed, in fact. It’s all here, neatly folded in his open valise, waiting for him to return.
Because he will.
Then I see the note weighted by a rock, fluttering against the sand. Come to the Headland Hotel at three o’clock. Dress smartly.
Has this been here the whole time?
I slip into the deep cavern and change, scandalized and shaking, as I undress in what is technically the out-of-doors. I slip into my only “best” in the carpet bag—a high-waisted peacock affair, green fabric with vibrant blue sash and collar to set it off.
Struggling into low kid boots and twirling my hair into a humble twist, I stash everything into our two modest bags and carry them along, following the directions he left.
I climb the winding coastal path until I stand before the grandest estate I’ve ever seen.
A four-story red and white brick Georgian perched on a cliff that overlooks the water as a queen watches over her subjects.
It’s even grander inside. Plush rugs quiet my footfalls and a man in livery approaches with a bow and takes my bags.
“Oh, I’m not staying the night.”
“I’ll just keep these for you in our storage, then. Now, how might I help you?”
“I’m looking for my husband,” I say, voice tight. The room sparkles with crystal chandeliers, sunshine through gauzy curtains and silver service upon white linen tablecloths. Gentle music hangs in the air.
“Yes, ma’am. Right this way. Mrs. Winthrop, I presume?”
I nod, exhaling in relief, and he leads me into the tearoom where the pianoforte music eases my tension.
At least if there is nothing else, there is music.
I sit near the bar and chat nervously with Eleanor, a server close to my age who busily sets out teacups and pours pot after pot of steaming liquid. I tell her I’m waiting on my husband—and yes, he truly is coming—and attempt to look less pathetic while I wait alone.
“We’re from Dunn House,” I mention, as if she ought to know it, and I hope she does. “Making our way back there, and I should think we’re not far, are we?”
“I wouldn’t know about much pas’ these shores, miss. I lead quite a dull life ’ere.”
Why has no one heard of the place? There cannot be many stately manor homes on this peninsula.
“Tea?” she asks, for at least the eighth time.
“No!” I clear my throat. Smooth my gown. “No, thank you. He is coming.”
I must have been toying with my empty glass for eons, staring out the tall windows—how does one clean them?—when I admit to myself he isn’t coming. AJ isn’t coming. Has he been injured? Drowned?
His absence cuts the slender string of my security and I’m floating. Drifting.
He has left me.
The giant hole of everything I don’t know creeps closer. The busy server turns back to her work, pretending not to notice my continued abandonment.
A moment later the pianoforte music ceases and quiet folds over the room.
The bench creaks, then footfalls approach directly behind me.
A deep voice teases the skin on my shoulder.
“Who has failed to keep an appointment with such an enchanting creature?” I exhale as a familiar voice wraps itself around me.
AJ.
“The worst sort of cad.”
“Perhaps he didn’t see you, tucked back here around the corner, and thought you were not coming.” A sigh. “I do hope he’s at least handsome.”
“Passable.” I bite back a smile.
“Hmm.” He trails a finger up my arm, and I lean into his magnetic warmth. “I hope you will not find me too forward, but I should enjoy your company, since it’s conveniently available.” He leans toward my ear. “Dance with me?”
“I suppose.”
He spins me into his arms, holding me close, and I’m swept up in his nearness. Is it him that’s so enchanting…or us together? One glance up and I’m lost in those sparkling sea-green eyes. “I must say, you’re a bundle of surprises, Ansel James Winthrop.”
“Good.” His smile flashes. “I’d hate to be boring.”
I nod toward the clothing I don’t recognize. “A dinner jacket?”
“Borrowed. Like it?”
“It’ll do.” I throw him a coy grin and admire the fine cut of clothing on him.
Just before he twirls me, I catch sight of Eleanor’s shocked face. She’s openly staring at us. At me. I laugh as AJ spins me about to the music of the lively string quartet that has replaced the pianoforte.
“You’re to have high tea, with anything you like on their menu card. I’ve spent the day rescuing them since their pianist failed to appear, busing tables too, and in return—”
“You’re not being paid.”
“They’re rather strapped at the moment, but they promised my lady the grandest time with anything her heart desires. It truly was a bargain, for only a few hours’ work.”
“I could have eaten fish and chips again, for far less effort.”
He smiles, covertly brushing his lips across mine. “Yes, but this was much more fun.”
We feast on a delightful meal of egg and cress, madeleines and fruits, then every tea imaginable.
A steady stream of Darjeeling, Earl Greys, and locally crafted teas sweep across our table and we sample most everything we can lay hands on, except those containing anise, which I find I decidedly do not enjoy.
Across the table, my husband sits straight and tall in his three-piece suit. He looks like a stranger. “Ansel, you’ve told me so little of your story. The pianoforte, for example. I had no idea you played.”
“Neither did I.” His eyebrows dart up.
I laugh. “I’m serious, AJ. Tell me more about your past. What life was like when you were younger. You’ve dropped everything to come away on this wild goose chase with me, but I know nearly nothing about what you’re leaving behind.”
“Nothing worth speaking of. Odd jobs here and there, a tiny flat. You know all that. I have all I need in front of me.” A wink. “Which tea shall we try next?”
“What sort of positions, AJ? How have you kept yourself? You’ve only—”
“This and that, as I said. Something always needs doing, so I do it. You’re my match in resourcefulness, taking up with Lady St. Laurent the moment you landed on her—um—road.”
“Yes, but what kind of things?” I steer back toward him again. My curiosity is getting the better of me, and I cannot help but think of Gould’s words earlier. Watch for people who evade answering.
AJ studies me for a moment, those roguish eyes holding me captive. Then a smile spreads across his face. “A peacock.”
“What?” My thoughts struggle to pivot.
“Yes! That’s it. I’ve been trying to decide what your gown is meant to be. It’s the colors of a peacock, isn’t it?”
Unease twists within my ribcage and it suddenly feels imperative to have an answer. “You never—”
“And that brooch. What a stunner. You must have worked hard to earn such a piece.”
“It was a gift from Lady St. Laurent. But AJ, won’t you—”
Then the server is at my elbow, offering tea with a smoky flavor. “Lapsang Souchong, my lady?” The private matter cools in the presence of a stranger.
“Rather strong, isn’t it?” AJ’s smile is enormous.
It bothers me a bit, that smile. I cannot recall why. What were we talking about?
“You’ll want milk and honey with it, luv,” says AJ.
“More honey, then,” says our server. “Fetch you anything else, my lady?”
My lady. AJ calls me that.
Why are my thoughts so scattered? They’re like dandelion fluff on the wind. “No, thank you. This is perfectly fine.” Oh. Yes. My questions.
The server pours us each a cup and leaves with a quick bow.
“AJ.”
There’s a small crack in the merriment on his face. “Chimney sweep, errand boy, night watchman, beadle, turnkey, and in a pinch, organ grinder. Yes, with a monkey. That’s most of my illustrious working career, and yes, I can provide references if my lady should desire.”
My cheeks flame. I cannot tell if he’s irritated or amused.
The server returns and places a cream jug on the table directly into the thick tension between us, then scurries away. We are silent as we sip, and AJ looks out over the tearoom.
When I’ve finished mine, AJ says, “There. Now you have something for your memory book.” A gentle smile. “You’re a veritable encyclopedia of teas now.”
“I suppose so.” I gift him with a smile. “Although, I believe today’s entry will focus on shocking poor Eleanor.”
AJ flicks an expertly furtive glance her way. They’re whispering. That twit Eleanor is whispering to the other servers and looking at me. At us, actually.
“I do believe she’s eyeing your brooch with the look of a viper.”
I place my hand over it, remembering the Christmas Lady St. Laurent gifted it to me—and thus, gifted me a place in her family. “Let her be jealous. I’m wearing it.”
“Until it tears that thin fabric.” He lifts it, testing its weight. “Might I put it in my pocket to keep it safe? It must be worth more than two qu—”
“I shan’t hide it away on her account. Nor do I care what it’s worth. Besides, it isn’t the brooch.” I smile at him. “I’m afraid she’s eyeing the strange man who intercepted my long wait for a missing husband.”
AJ’s eyebrow rises playfully. “Scandalizing the town, are we?”
I think of the post office. “You have no idea.”
“Well, then. We—”
“Of course! AJ! There’s one place that will have to know where to find Dunn House. Come, let’s visit the post office again.”
“Again?”
“Perhaps we’ll locate Dunn House by nightfall.” Then everything will change for us, one way or another.
But the moment we step outside, I see a familiar flash of gray wool and top hat.
Sabine’s agent? Can it be that he’s found us so quickly?
He leans against a building, hands in his pockets as he casually scans the town.
I pull AJ back inside and we slip out the service entrance, running behind the buildings on a narrow walkway.
AJ asks no questions, and I point toward the quaint post office nestled between shops on the main thoroughfare. He nods.
Soon. Very soon, I will come face to face with my dreaded past.
Hopefully before that agent catches up with us.