The Only Gold (45 page)

Before Margaret could sympathize, Alice, momentarily a fugitive from her father’s watchful eye, hastened toward them and impulsively clutched Jonah’s hand. “Jonah, you must talk to Mr. Hylliard, in case I cannot. You don’t know what I’ve told Father—and I know it’s quite dreadful of me—but Mr. Hylliard did seem inclined to do as Mr. Abbott asked, and I couldn’t bear to let Gil….” She flushed and covered her telltale cheeks too late. “Gil is Mr. Abbott’s brother, Margaret. And he risked his life for me—just as Jonah and Mr. Hylliard did, of course. I had to help him.” She turned beseeching eyes back to Jonah. “You will tell Mr. Hylliard—and he won’t be upset, will he? I think he meant to do the same thing. Don’t you?”

Jonah met Margaret’s glance and knew she had come to the same uneasy conclusion he had. She shook her head softly, and Jonah realized it was neither his place nor hers to counsel Alice. “I will tell Mr. Hylliard. I can’t say what the police may decide, but I suspect it will not go hard for Gil. I think both he and Liam were too caught up in their grief to think clearly, and Morris Barton took every advantage of it.”

“Yes,” Alice said, as if he had eased her mind profoundly. “Dear Jonah, you are so understanding.” For a moment, she seemed ready to embrace him, but instead touched his sleeve and flew away before either he or Margaret could question her further.

“I’m not sure I shall like to see where that leads,” Margaret said in a low voice, then quickly smiled as Matthew raced up. “Now you will be endlessly peppered with questions, my dear. I hope you are well rested.”

Matthew seemed unaccountably stricken as he shook Jonah’s hand. “I tried to come in Monday,” he lamented. “I might’ve walked right into the middle of it all—but the weather was so blasted rotten. I missed all the excitement!”

With the reason behind Matthew’s anguish clarified, Jonah found it a struggle to appear reproving. “Language, Mr. Falk. And I’m glad you missed ‘the excitement’, as you call it. You might’ve come to harm.” An ache rose in his throat at the thought. “I’m exceedingly glad none of you made it in.”

“I wish you hadn’t,” Margaret said quietly.

“I don’t regret it.” It suddenly struck him that if he hadn’t shown up, Barton might have successfully killed another Pinkerton. “I will never regret it.”

“You’ll regret coming in today,” Matthew said, with a wry nod toward the counter, where Simon, passing through the gate, held it open for Helen. Jonah might have dismissed it as unusually gentlemanly behavior on Simon’s part, if Simon hadn’t subsequently offered her his arm and Helen hadn’t shyly smiled and accepted it.

“It seems I missed some excitement too,” Jonah remarked.

Margaret chuckled. “They were trapped on the elevated together for hours. Helen told me he walked with her on the tracks and helped her down the ladder. And, according to her, they didn’t fight once. Apparently, all is forgiven.”

“For today, anyway,” Matthew said with a snort.

“We will enjoy the peace while it lasts,” Jonah said. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you will return to the exchanges, please.” Catching sight of Simon gaping at him, Jonah marshaled his sternest air, this time with better success. “Mr. Campbell?”

“Mr. Woolner, your tie….”

“Oh, yes.” Jonah smoothed it with a careful hand. “A handsome piece of work, don’t you think?”

“But… you said—”

“I believe I said the cashier’s attire is his own affair.” Allowing himself a satisfied smile, he bid Simon return to work and headed to his office. At the door, he remembered that Reid’s office was his, now. Struck by the feeling he was laying claim to something that had Reid’s stamp indelibly upon it, he went in, to find the mess he’d left behind had been put to rights. The office was neat and quiet, not a scrap out of place. Loneliness swept over him, a harsher wave than any that had nearly drowned him. Becoming accustomed to Reid’s presence had been challenge enough, Jonah mused ruefully. Becoming accustomed to his absence—it was not to be thought of. Jonah could not even bear to move the furniture back to its former arrangement.

He got little done in the morning beyond sending a note home to let Edith and Winnie know what had become of him. Unable to concentrate on the correspondence, he left the building at noon and went for a walk—not far, for, despite the sunshine, the air was sharp, the high snowdrifts defiant yet. As famished as if he had not eaten at all, he stopped at the nearest café for a thin bowl of soup and week-old bread. More substantial was the gossip, most of it heartening talk of the repair of telegraph lines and resumption of streetcar service. He heard familiar chatter of plans for an underground transportation system—old news that he didn’t expect to amount to much.

Back on the street, he wandered in the direction of Exchange Place, debating a visit to the Pinkerton office. But Reid hadn’t been able to spare a minute to come by the bank; he was surely too wrapped up in his work to entertain visitors. Still suffering a guilty conscience and preferring to not disturb him, Jonah went back to the bank, determined to catch up on his own work. At two o’clock, a rap at the door woke him from another reverie, to remember the row of numbers needing his attention. He turned from that as Helen peeked in.

“Mr. Grandborough’s come back, sir. And Mr. Hylliard’s with him.”

Jonah nodded as if it were no great concern, and when Helen had gone, lingered at his desk. He’d understood Reid’s leave-taking before dawn. That had been a kindness. But it surprised him Reid would not come to the office for a private word, unless Mr. Grandborough had seized upon him the moment he’d walked through the door.

Perhaps it was no more than that, but Jonah couldn’t douse the worry. He went to the lobby, to find Mr. Grandborough addressing an attentive staff. With him stood Reid, attired in his cream-colored waistcoat under a brown cutaway, his tie a silk concoction of brown and green stripe. He brightened at Jonah’s arrival, which did not go unnoticed by Margaret and the clerks nearby. Worry duly vanquished, Jonah slipped to the back of the group before he caused any further distraction.

“It has been decided,” Mr. Grandborough continued, “that, until the lines of communication are in working order, we will extend all outstanding loans. As for the other matter disrupting our week….” He frowned as if he found the subject distasteful to dwell on. “I know you’ve all been apprised of the barest details, but there is little else worth relating. Mr. Abbott, it appears, will survive his injury so that he may take up residence on the island for that period of time the court deems suitable. Certain decisions he made during the course of the attempted robbery will be taken into account and no doubt spare him the harsher consequences. I cannot say the same for Morris Barton.”

Mr. Grandborough’s smile returned, imbued with a certain satisfaction. “As for young Gil Abbott, I have always been a man who believes in giving a boy of redeemable character a second chance. Applying belief to deed, I have decided to hire him on in the capacity of groomsman, where I can keep a sharp eye on him.”

“Alice as well,” Simon murmured, which produced barely stifled amusement from those around him. That rumor would not be put easily to rest, Jonah knew. Still, it was upon him to try. He cleared his throat, and everyone’s attention, Simon’s included, shot earnestly back to Mr. Grandborough.

“Lastly, ladies and gentlemen, news it grieves me to share. Mr. Hylliard is back to bid us farewell. I know you’ve all grown fond of him during his time with us, and we are, of course, in his debt. Regrettably, our opportunity to repay him will be brief, as he’s been assigned a case in California and will be leaving for that fair state tomorrow morning.”

Jonah gasped—a sound fortunately lost in the chorus of similar reaction around him. Now he knew why Reid had stayed away the better part of the day.
He hadn’t wanted to break that news, himself—knowing what else he would break, in the doing. California…
.

It might as well be China.

Mr. Grandborough’s speech had turned into a cheerful farewell echoed by the staff, who’d begun to gather around to shake Reid’s hand and wish him luck. Jonah found Reid’s gaze on him, concerned, apologetic. Unable to take refuge behind an impassive face, Jonah escaped to the washroom. Thankful to be alone, he held cupped hands under the icy water and massaged cold fingers over his burning eyes. His thoughts ran unstoppably through the hours ahead, the days without Reid, but he would not yield to grief, not with everyone around to witness it. He collected himself and went out, to find Reid waiting for him in the cloakroom.

Before Reid could say a word, Jonah raised a hand. “This is not the time or place.” Not with tears already so near the surface.

Reid nodded as if he understood. “I didn’t mean for you to find out that way. I’m sorry.”

“How long have you known?”

“Well, since Sunday. The thing of it is—”

“I may have no right to say so, but I’m still rather fond of the truth.” Jonah retreated as Reid moved nearer. “Especially from someone I’ve trusted.”

Reid sucked in an audible breath, as if he were the one reeling from a blow. “Give me a minute to explain—”

“You’re going to California,” Jonah said, matching his exasperation. “That’s explanation enough.”

Outside the door, the floorboard creaked. Jonah swept every scrap of emotion beneath an irreproachable demeanor as Detective Cressett eased his six-foot frame around the door and smiled in a reserved but not unfriendly way. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Woolner. Reid, we have to go.”

“All right.” Reid’s apprehension was written plainly on his face as he looked at Jonah. “Have supper with me?”

Jonah wanted to, as painful as it would be. But lingering hurt made him shake his head. “I’ve another engagement this evening.”

Reid seemed at a loss for words—or too aware of Detective Cressett’s presence to risk any more entreaties. But his frustration and hurt needed no additional communication. The mere sight of it brought an apology to Jonah’s lips—one which remained unspoken as Reid turned away and followed Cressett out. A moment later, Jonah saw them on the sidewalk, climbing into a cab. Reid looked tired, he realized. No one had let him have a minute’s rest since the robbery. Of course he’d have plenty of time to sleep on the train and during those first long nights in California—until he met someone new.

Jonah crossed the lobby without a word to anyone and shut himself in his office. The concentration he’d been seeking all day he finally found, immersing himself in answering letters and catching up with the books. It was imperative, that concentration, to keep him in one piece. Work had been the whole of his life, and it might well be again, for a very long time. If he applied himself to it as he had done in the past, he would need nothing else.

He had very nearly convinced himself of that by five, when Margaret came in with the totals and, seeming to sense his troubled state of mind, asked him to supper. Begging off, he proved up the totals, saw the books returned to the vault, and the staff bundled up and out the door before he gathered his own coat and hat and closed the bank.

In the chill evening, with no unoccupied cab in sight, he walked home.

Brightly
lit windows invited him in, and he found everyone gathered at the table. At the sight of him, they all seemed to draw breath at once, exhaling a thousand questions. Liliane was the first to capture him, and she pulled him close. The sisterly admonition he expected did not come. Instead she looked him over, her eyes unabashedly wet with tears. “You are all right.” She cradled his face and kissed him. “I am so glad.”

“I’m all right,” Jonah agreed quietly, finding something of a smile to give her. “I am sorry. I wanted to tell you sooner—”

“Good heavens,” Edith said. “You can hardly be expected to rush to ease our worries when you’ve enough of your own.”

Liliane was watching him. Jonah avoided her gaze. “Yes, well, my worries are lessened. I’m glad to see you’ve all come through the storm safely.”

Cyrus snorted. “I’m more concerned with what hasn’t come through,” he said, with a forlorn glance at the meal of soup, old bread, and the plum preserves Edith had put up the year before. Jonah supposed in a day or two the trains would bring in fresh vegetables, milk, eggs, and everything else in short supply. He had little appetite at the moment, anyway.