Ginger Gold Mystery Box Set 1 Read online

  Boss’s head bobbed, and he stretched out a small black paw from where he slept at the bottom of Ginger’s bed. He yawned in greeting, then promptly closed his eyes and emitted a soft snore.

  Ginger changed into her nightwear—a satin jade-green, one-piece teddy trimmed with champagne-coloured lace. Haley donned a plain white camisole and matching bloomers, and unpinned her curly, long brown hair, which twisted up at her neck to create the illusion of a wavy bob. Sitting in front of the dressing table mirror, she brushed out her hair and spoke to Ginger’s reflection. “Are you ready, Mrs. Gold?”

  “Ready for what?”

  “For your new life in London.”

  “It’s been ten years since I’ve stepped foot there.” Ginger’s last foray to England had been on her honeymoon in 1913. All of her work during the war took place on the Continent. “I hardly know what to expect.”

  “The world seems to have changed on a dime,” Haley returned. “I imagine we’ll both be surprised.”

  “Surely you must be excited to continue your medical training,” Ginger said, secretly envying her friend. Ginger’s years studying at Boston University were among her favourite memories. She loved the academic atmosphere and enjoyed the camaraderie of her fellow students. Her studies in languages and math had turned out to be of particular use during the war, but now Ginger felt at a loss at what to do with her time.

  “Yes,” Haley admitted, “but I think I’ll miss Boston.”

  Ginger twisted a short strand of hair around her index finger to reinforce the curl that turned in towards her cheek. “I’m not sure I’ll be away long enough to miss it.”

  “Oh?” Haley paused mid-brush. “Do tell.”

  “I might just sell Hartigan House and return to the States. Even though I was born in England, I was only eight years old when Father married Sally and relocated. I’m afraid I’m rather American.”

  “Indeed, Ginger, you are very American.”

  “But, as you know, I can be as English as the next Brit when I set my mind to it. Father remained thoroughly English until the day he died.”

  Haley returned the brush to the dressing table and climbed into her bed. “You are culturally versatile.”

  “I won’t miss Sally one bit,” Ginger continued, “though I might become sentimental over Louisa.”

  “Your half sister is ... memorable.”

  “She’s spoiled, obnoxious, and unbearable is what you mean.”

  “I would never say it.”

  “I’ll enjoy London, I think, for a while,” Ginger said as she burrowed deeper under her covers. “But then what will I do with myself?”

  “I’m sure there will be plenty to entertain you.”

  “To begin with certainly, but then what? At least you have your career. Boston is my home, but with only Sally to welcome me back, well, it’s just not that inviting.”

  “So, you’re divided,” Haley said. “Stay in London, where you don’t know anyone besides me and risk boredom, or sell Hartigan House and return to Boston, where you have a social circle. But due to that same social circle, you would be obligated to live with your evil step-mother.”

  “Precisely. Haley Higgins, you are so perceptive.”

  “It’s a skill required of my profession.”

  “And yet you’ve managed to not help me at all. I’m no closer to an answer.”

  “Dear Ginger, you’re young, beautiful, and an heiress, ergo there’s a good chance you’ll meet an eligible bachelor or two. That should keep you entertained. Unless, of course, your feelings for Mr. Wellington go deeper than you let on.”

  Mr. Wellington was a successful accountant, born and raised in Boston, and a long-suffering suitor. He appeared out of nowhere just days after her official period of mourning over Daniel had ended. A man of virtue and good ethics, any woman would’ve jumped at a chance to marry him. His look was plain but not homely, his skin quite pale, and his stomach a bit paunchy—likely due to a sedentary lifestyle lived indoors—but not overly so. He valued order and logic and approached life with similar sentiments, having very little appreciation for passion or spontaneity.

  The complete opposite of Daniel in every way.

  She turned his offer of marriage down in the end, and though she hated to hurt him, she knew they would never make each other happy. Besides, he wanted children, and that was something she just couldn’t promise him. Mother Nature had seen to that.

  Ginger’s mind drifted momentarily to the dapper gentleman she’d witnessed at Miss Guilford’s table. Here was a well-dressed man with intelligent eyes that sparked with passion. Ginger played with the gold ring on her finger, which was her habit, then stopped suddenly with a flood of mortification. How could she polish her wedding band whilst pondering the good looks of a stranger!

  Boss, sensing his mistress’s emotional need, crept to her side as she slipped under the covers, and nuzzled her neck. Ginger whispered, “Oh, Boss, you’re such a peach.”

  She and Haley spent some time reading with the help of the electric lamps beside their beds—Haley with a medical textbook and Ginger with a new Agatha Christie detective novel.

  Ginger could have booked separate rooms, but she didn’t mind the company, especially with her maid, Molly, staying behind. She gave Haley the option of her own room, but Haley wasn’t one to take advantage because Ginger had money. She’d expressed her gratitude on having her passage to London covered in the deal.

  Eventually, Ginger’s eyes drooped. “I’m ready to call it a day,” she said.

  Haley flipped the switch next to her bed, and the electric lights extinguished. “Sleep well, Ginger.”

  “Sleep well, Haley.”

  Moments later, their peace and quiet was interrupted by a loud zipper sound.

  “Boss!” Ginger shouted.

  “Dear Lord!” Haley said. “Light a match!”

  Chapter Three

  The next morning Ginger dropped a copy of Pearson’s magazine on the table beside her cup of coffee and crumb-laden plate. It was opened to the crossword page, with every square filled out in ink.

  “They’re far too easy,” Ginger said.

  Haley rolled her eyes. “You say that every time.”

  “It’s true every time.”

  “Then why do you do them?”

  “I’m hoping one day, I’ll finally be stumped.”

  Haley paused before saying, “I doubt that’ll ever happen. Maybe you should craft them yourself?”

  “Now, that’s a thought. Still, I’d forfeit the challenge of completing them since I’d already know the answers beforehand.”

  A waiter returned with a trolley to top up their coffee and to offer another round of fresh croissants and bread. Ginger and Haley had filled up on the English version of breakfast—bacon and eggs—and requested coffee only.

  “I suppose we’ll have to switch to tea once we’re in England,” Ginger said.

  “I think not,” Haley said as she added a healthy dose of cream and two spoons of sugar to her black brew. “My problem will be finding a cup that is strong enough to suit me.”

  “I love a good cup of coffee, but there is something charming and sophisticated about their fascination with teatime. I quite like holding dainty china cups with my little finger extended.” Ginger demonstrated as a lark.

  “You’ll fit right in, Mrs. Gold.”

  “Actually, the English frown on the pinky.” Ginger laughed, and Haley joined in with a begrudging half grin.

  “Are you going to see your in-laws?” Haley asked carefully. She sipped her coffee and kept her eyes averted.

  “It’s okay to talk about them,” Ginger said, noting her friend’s discomfort. “And about Daniel.”

  Haley caught Ginger’s eyes but merely nodded.

  “It’s only Daniel’s grandmother, Ambrosia, and his sister, Felicia, who are left, you see. So much tragedy in that family. His parents died in a carriage accident, leaving Daniel and Felicia orphans when Felicia was
still an infant. His grandfather died of heart failure before Daniel was even born. When we returned for our honeymoon in ’13, Ambrosia was the Lady of Bray Manor and Felicia was only eleven.” Ginger frowned. “Daniel was always concerned about his sister not having a proper mother to raise her. He felt terribly guilty about leaving her behind when he came to Boston. I don’t think he meant to stay as long as he did. And then the war called him.”

  “I thought he crossed the Atlantic specifically to meet you?”

  “Well, he was after the Hartigan money. Before his father died, he’d strapped the family with gambling debts, and Daniel did what he felt he had to in order to save Bray Manor.”

  “He married you for money?” Haley was unable to keep shock from lacing her words.

  Ginger eyed her over her cup. “It’s not unheard of. My father was in favour. Daniel didn’t have money, but he did have a title.”

  Haley slammed down her half-empty mug. “What? How could you’ve kept that from me?”

  Ginger lifted a shoulder. “As you well know, Americans find British titles pretentious. You do better in business without them. Self-made men are more esteemed than those born into money. Even though Father greatly admired Daniel’s title, he never introduced him with it. Besides, Daniel and I ended up falling in love, so it all became a moot point.”

  “Do you have a title?”

  Ginger let out a small breath and murmured, “Lady Gold. My husband was a baron. Daniel, Lord Gold.”

  “Lady Gold!”

  “Shh! There’s no need to draw attention.”

  “But, Ginger.” Haley couldn’t keep the chuckle out of her voice. “You’re a Lady.”

  Ginger squinted her eyes. “‘Mrs. Gold’ will do just fine, thank you very much.”

  The table next to them became occupied by an older couple who seemed to be feeling the effects of the time change already, or perhaps were among the unfortunates whose stomachs failed to cooperate with the ocean crossing. He was wispy thin, as if he ate nothing at all, saving all for his stout and top-heavy wife. Her hair was as white as a sheet, yet styled expertly with marcelled waves. Her maid undoubtedly hadn’t refused to accompany her. Though the woman’s size dictated that her clothing was specially made, Ginger noted the quality of the fabrics and the modern design.

  “Mrs. Fairchild,” the woman said in a way of introduction. “Residing in London.” She tapped the leg of her quiet husband. “Mr. Fairchild, poor man. He has a gippy tummy. I insisted on visiting New York for our fiftieth wedding anniversary—I was born there—but it’s changed so much, you see, I hardly recognised it. Made me nearly burst into tears. This trip has been such a frightful disappointment.” She paused to catch her breath, then asked, “And you are?”

  Ginger smiled. “I’m Mrs. Gold, and this ...”

  Mrs. Fairchild’s eyes darted to Haley, and she gasped with indignation. “You’ve brought your maid to breakfast?”

  “No, no. This is my companion, Miss Higgins.”

  Haley, who was thumbing through Ginger’s magazine, held it up to conceal herself and made a face. Ginger held in the giggle that threatened to burst forth. “She’s a nurse.”

  “A nurse?” Mrs. Fairchild said. “Oh, well, that explains things, then.”

  “Miss Guilford would like honey, not jelly, and beef, not ham.” The loud New Jersey accent of Nancy Guilford’s assistant carried across the room and claimed the elder woman’s attention.

  A young waiter with hair as red as Ginger’s said, “Will Miss Guilford be joining us soon, Miss Applebalm?”

  “No. She has a headache and asked if I could bring breakfast up for her.”

  “Yes, miss.”

  Patty Applebalm’s thin lips were pursed in determination. “And coffee, not tea. Miss Guilford doesn’t like tea. And extra sugar if you don’t mind.”

  “You and Nancy Guilford have something in common,” Ginger said to Haley.

  “Perhaps when it comes to coffee,” Haley admitted, “but when it comes to clothes, she’s all yours.”

  “I do adore her sense of fashion, though I think she’s harder on her help than I am.”

  “Agreed,” Haley said.

  Ginger sighed. “I think I’ll miss Molly.”

  “I’m sure she’ll miss you too.”

  Ginger and Haley remained transfixed by the actress’s assistant. “What do you think of Miss Applebalm?” Ginger asked.

  “Do you mean, is she devoted or disgruntled?”

  “Yes.”

  Haley thought for a moment, then answered, “I’d say devoted.”

  “I’d have to concur,” Ginger said. “She has a bulldog intent on meeting Miss Guilford’s requests, and when she looks at Nancy, I swear she appears sentimental.”

  Haley nodded. “I noticed that too. Perhaps Miss Applebalm is more than a simple hire.”

  “History between them?” Ginger asked.

  “That’s my guess.”

  “Aunt?”

  “Possibly.”

  “I’m going to say she’s Miss Guilford’s aunt,” Ginger said confidently. “One orphaned, one childless. Raised Nancy Guilford as her own.”

  “That’s quite the guesswork,” Haley replied.

  “It’s what I do when I’m bored.”

  Mrs. Fairchild leaned towards them, her bosom sprinkled with crumbs. “You’re quite right, Mrs. Gold. I knew the Applebalms in the old days, poor as dirt. Young Nancy’s mama died when she was little, and with no papa, her aunt, Miss Applebalm, loved her like she was her own. Would do anything for that girl, I reckon, anything.”

  Ginger found the quality of the older woman’s hearing surprising and unnerving. She must remember to lower her voice in the future. She pushed away from the table and whispered to Haley, “I should go see to Boss. It’s time for a trip to the kennel.” Though Ginger managed to get around the rules about leaving her dog there, he still needed an opportunity to “do his business.”

  She spoke kindly to the Fairchilds before departing. “Good day. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

  * * *

  Instead of heading immediately down to steerage, Ginger coaxed Boss up to the bridge deck that availed the best view. Pausing to enjoy the sunshine, Ginger leaned over the smoothly polished mahogany railing and watched the white swathe of waves that broke off the hull of the SS Rosa as she cut her path through the Atlantic.

  The late-summer sun glinted off the sea, a glittering expanse as far as the eye could see, and a strong breeze fluttered the skirt of Ginger’s blue dress around her calves. She used her free hand to hold on to her straw sunhat while tipping back her head to look up at the towering black and red painted smokestacks in the centre of the ship. They were even more impressive up close.

  “I’ll have you arrested for insubordination!”

  Ginger recognised the angry voice and turned in time to see the captain and Chief Officer MacIntosh broach the top of the stairs on their way to the bridge.

  “You rotten bounder!” MacIntosh shouted, traipsing a few steps behind.

  Captain Walsh spun on his heel and jabbed MacIntosh in the chest. “You’ll be lucky to get a job as a bloody seaman after I’ve finished with you.”

  They’d been so consumed with their argument they hadn’t noticed Ginger standing there.

  That was until Boss, noting the tension, barked. Ginger scolded herself for not giving her pet the sign to keep quiet.

  The captain’s and the chief officer’s attention turned to Ginger.

  “Oh, hello,” Ginger called in an overly loud voice. “I didn’t hear you there. I hope you don’t mind that I came up to enjoy the view. Such a lovely day, isn’t it? I’m sorry I can’t stay longer, but I have to return my pup to the kennel. I know, I know, I’m not supposed to remove him from steerage, but I have a tendency to get my own way.” She smiled widely and batted her eyes. “Please don’t be angry with the boys in charge.”

  Captain Walsh relaxed into his professional demeanour and smiled as
he approached. “Of course, Mrs. Gold, you are welcome to the entire ship. And we will ignore the kennel boys their indiscretion this once.”

  “Thank you,” Ginger said, tugging on Boss’s leash.

  “Do enjoy the lovely weather,” Captain Walsh said. “I’m afraid we’re in for a change before we reach England.”

  “Oh? Nothing serious, I hope?” Ginger’s stomach clenched at the thought of severe weather striking the SS Rosa mid-journey.

  Captain Walsh responded with reassurance. “We’ll be fine.”

  “Very well. Good day, Captain!” She looked for the chief officer to offer a polite salutation, but he was no longer there.

  Ginger found herself speed-walking down the decks to steerage. The argument she’d witnessed, and her subsequent performance, caused her heart to race. Before she reached the lower level and had to talk to the seaman who monitored all who came and went, she stopped to gain her composure.

  Five years out of operations had made her soft.

  Chapter Four

  Boss whimpered, and Ginger knew she’d better get him to the kennel before he had an accident. When she reached the entrance to steerage, a different seaman from the day previous said, “Can I assist?”

  Ginger patted the tips of her bobbed hair with her gloved hand. “I have special permission to bring my puppy in and out of the kennel. My name is Mrs. Gold. You can confirm with the captain.” At least, this time the statement was true.

  “Not necessary, madam. Your word is all I need.”

  Ginger braced herself for the change of atmosphere and descended. Located in the belly of the ship, the steerage was dark and smelly, not entirely due to the animals that resided there—the stench of human uncleanliness permeated the place as well. She was loath to spend too much time there for fear of bringing the smell back to first class.