16. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Ammie, his eyes concealed by Mama’s hands, his smile somewhere between caution and expectation, reached into the space before him. Framed by the ornate arch of the entrance to the hotel’s dining room, the two of them seemed so small. Ammie almost matched Mama’s height already. Neither of the Hempel parents were tall; in fact, they were probably lucky to have reached the five foot they had after growing up in an orphanage. Mama pulled her hands away, and Ammie took in the expanse of the room. Bright red and white crepe rosettes hung in every corner, long twists of ribbon cascaded from the ceiling to the floor, and on the table in the centre of the room sat a three-layer cake. Family, friends, and a few neighbours filled the room. Ammie’s anticipation turned to wonder as he flung himself around Mama’s neck and hugged her tight, shouting, ‘It’s perfect!’ He raced across the room to where the other children were gathered, presents in hand.

Elliot pushed to the front and shoved a wooden crate at Ammie. ‘I made you firecrackers. Whizzes and bangers. Father said we can let them off outside the hotel, as long as we’re quick and scarper if the coppers come.’

Rosanna neatened the bow on her gift—a set of coloured pastels. It was wrong to have favourites when it came to siblings, especially in a family as big as hers. No matter how warm their hearths or how attentive their parents, everyone had trouble getting a smidgeon of attention. But in moments like this, she couldn’t deny it—Ammie was special. Almost three years after the loss of Garnett, her mother had quietly announced over breakfast that another baby Hempel was on the way. The following months had been slow and shadowed, laced with worry and anchored in unease. But for all his reserve now, Ammie had come into the world screaming with health and gusto, and from early smiles to floor-slapping crawling, he’d brought a new vitality to their home. He was the baby who did not know the pain or the heartache of before, but who must have felt them regardless as they infiltrated everything in the Hempel household. With every rosy-cheeked laugh, flat palm against her cheek, or tug of her long hair, he’d brought a peace to their lives. Not a forgetting, for that was impossible. More of a settling. As grief turned to memory and agony to acceptance, the family had moulded itself into a different type of happiness, and he had unknowingly been at the centre of it.

Ammie had that effect on people. Even on her aloof, impenetrable husband.

When she’d returned home the night before last, she hadn’t been worried until she’d clambered out of the hackney cab, followed by Johannes, the pair of them wrung out with conversation and decisions. Only then had she questioned what she might find inside Number 1. Chaos? Anger? When she’d climbed the steps, slid her key into the lock, and entered a house of happy humming and contentment, she’d felt something completely unexpected. She’d come home . The fullness of the feeling had been swiftly pursued by a wave of dread. The little red coats lining the cloak room. Phineas’s hung up beside them. In the dining room they’d found scattered crumbs while the air had been rich with the smell of the simple food children liked. The sense of completion and gnawing terror vied for dominance until the final blow—discovering her husband, stiff and uncomfortable, with little Ammie nestled beside him. The affection stirring inside her had turned into an avalanche.

And later, when they were alone, his possessive fisting of her skirt, his determination to feel her… As if he were reconciling her like a number in a column, checking her tally and finding her sums correct. Then he’d underlined it with a kiss…

Those moments where she’d niggled and nudged him to frustration or low chuckles, when she eased around his defences and drawn out a different man, had become too treasured. She’d dared to ask… what is this ? Three simple words that created a tangle of complexity.

Nothing , he’d replied, his dismissal like a blade across her traitorous heart, but also the absolute truth. He was fast becoming her everything, but she mustn’t allow that to happen. It had to be, had to remain nothing .

He wanted to leave. He wanted to escape the monotony of their lives. He wanted to start over and leave everything behind.

And always, the ache of Imogen hung in the room. Rosanna refused to take second place to anyone, even a memory. If she didn’t contain her ridiculous heart, that’s what she would be. The runner-up. The first loser.

Such certainty did not stop the little pang in her chest, nor the altering of her heart’s rhythm as her husband entered through the double doors, nodded at the staff behind the counter, and paused to survey the room. It didn’t stop the light flitter of anticipation when his gaze found her and he crossed the room in a direct line.

‘You are early,’ she said.

‘Bank holiday,’ he replied. ‘Some anniversary. We closed early, although the rest of the world keeps moving.’ From his dry tone, she couldn’t tell if he was happy with the half day’s leave or annoyed by the break in his week’s rhythm. He frowned across the hubbub of the dining room. ‘What’s all this?’

‘It’s Ammie’s birthday. He’s eleven.’

Phineas’s brow furrowed deeper. He picked up a rosette off the table and spun it between his fingers. ‘Quite a fuss for eleven.’

‘It’s our family tradition to celebrate double numbers at the hotel. If we had a big celebration for everyone each year, it would be never-ending parties and planning. But Papa takes any chance he can to ignore society’s rules, so he doesn’t like to focus on sixteen or twenty-one. He decided that double numbers like 11 or 22, even 33, were special. We still have cake and songs at home for other birthdays, but double numbers we celebrate here.’

‘Master numbers,’ Phineas said confidently, and when she frowned, he added, ‘Angel numbers. Some people believe that those numbers carry meaning. Those who follow the occult and such.’

‘I didn’t think you’d be one for the spiritual sciences,’ she teased, enjoying the return to familiar terrain. This she could manage. She would keep herself in check.

‘I’m not. It’s ridiculous. Numbers are just that. Numbers.’ He pulled out his pocket watch. ‘How long will all this take?’ he asked.

‘Maybe a couple of hours. Mama is putting on a brave face, but she’s still tired. I can’t imagine she’ll let things drag.’

‘I’ll return before then.’

‘You can stay—’ she began, then stopped. He had already spun on his heel, crossed the hall, and left. Petals from one of the bushes beside the entrance skimmed across the mosaic tiles, flipped over one another, and scattered across the path.

‘That doesn’t bode well for the happy couple.’

‘Shut it, Johannes.’ Rosanna crossed her arms as she turned away from her husband’s absence to look up at her younger, although considerably taller, brother. ‘He’s busy, is all.’

‘I think slow, Rosie, but that doesn’t make me a fool. There’s more to this than being compromised in the park.’

‘You didn’t hear Mrs Crofts…’

‘You expect me to believe that Father would let Mrs Crofts even whisper about us, especially you? Out with it.’

Rosanna looked across the room and picked out the handful of staff. Pierre, Nolan—both people they knew and trusted. If anyone overheard, they’d likely not gossip. She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘You can’t tell anyone . Not even Elliot.’

Johannes nodded, then took her by the wrist and led her into a corner of the dining room. They knew from their childhood days that this spot was both in the open, and yet the acoustics wouldn’t carry quiet voices.

At first, the words came out confident and indignant as she told him about the scene in the park and the man who had hit her. She trained her voice into steadiness as she spoke about the way Lord Richard had run off and how Phineas had intervened, how he had thwarted Mrs Crofts’s accusations with a stoic declaration. She spoke of the kidnapping plot to ransom her for her dowry. Only at the mention of the mysterious Imogen on the mantlepiece did her voice catch.

Johannes was always the epitome of a calm, cloudless day, but a hint of ire crept into his tone. ‘What will happen to you when this is over? How is divorce or annulment any better for your reputation?’

‘It’s better than if Lord Richard had compromised me and forced my hand. There’s paperwork, so much paperwork to protect me. Phineas promises I’ll have a clean break, and I’ll be able to start over. He says I’ll have a free life.’

Her brother watched her, his blue eyes penetrating and unsettling. He saw too much, thought too deeply, and who knew what lines and connections he was pulling together in his mind. ‘We should get back to the party,’ she said, but as she turned towards the family, Phineas crossed the threshold once more.

He clasped a small rectangular package wrapped in brown paper in one hand. With a nod at the doorman, he made direct for the dining room. He wove a path between tables and guests towards Ammie, who sat at the table beside Nova, the pair of them wolfing down cake. Johannes made as if to speak, but Rosanna shushed him and inched forwards, her ears straining to hear over the hubbub of the room.

Phineas tapped Ammie on the shoulder, then thrust the parcel onto the table. Ammie sat back in surprise, looked up, and, grinning broadly, scrabbled at the wrapping. The paper fluttered to the floor, and Ammie raised a book to eye level so he could scan the cover.

‘It’s a book about trains,’ Phineas said. ‘So now you can read on your own. Without me.’

Ammie’s expression softened into a slight sadness. ‘You don’t want to read with me?’ he asked.

‘I do, but if I’m busy, and you… you know. Want to read about trains.’ Phineas tapped the cover. ‘You won’t have to wait for me. You can do so whenever you wish.’

Ammie stood on his chair. He leapt at Phineas and clasped him around the neck. ‘I love it, Uncle Phin!’ He hung there for a moment, legs dangling, before Phineas patted his back, caught him about the sides, and lowered him to the ground.

‘Chairs are for sitting, not standing. You’ll get dirt on the seat.’

And there it was again. That sliver of kindness, that shielded moment of connection, appearing and disappearing with a blink.

Never be what they think you are.

If only he’d kept it all hidden from her.

‘Oh Rosie,’ Johannes muttered. ‘You haven’t fallen for him, have you?’

Rosanna bowed her head, refusing to look at her brother. ‘Only a little. I didn’t plan it.’ She drew a circle on the inside of her palm, trying to ignore her brother’s disbelieving stare. ‘A lot. I like him a lot. I don’t know what to do.’

‘Father wants me to go to Brighton to look at possible hotel locations. You know what the guests like better than me. Tell me a date. I’ll book a ticket. We’ll get away, and you can have some space.’

‘We’re so close to figuring everything out.’

Johannes took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. ‘You’re one of the strongest people I know, but you can’t bottle up your emotions. It’s not in you. If you mean it, that he’s going to leave, you need to step away first. And soon.’

‘I can’t leave before all this is done.’

‘And when it is done?’

Rosanna looked at the floor and shrugged.

‘This might be a silly question…’ Johannes bumped his elbow into her side. ‘But did you ever think about asking him to stay?’