Maybe not, but I experienced a pang of guilt for those lost wages considering I’d helped Jamie procure his employment at Marble House. Surely this young man needed full-time pay for full-time work. He very likely sent part of those wages home to family in Ireland, as Katie did when she was able. I should have inquired with Aunt Alva, and perhaps Mr. Delgado, before recommending Jamie for the position of gardener’s assistant.
“We could give you a lift into town,” I offered, wanting to spare him the trolley fare. Brady shot me a glance, which I ignored.
“Thank you kindly, Miss Cross, but I always look forward to riding the trolley, and the walk to the stop will do me good.”
“All right, then. Oh, and by the way. My mysterious wildflower? It’s called the rugosa rose. And it grows everywhere along the cliffs.”
“Does it now? I suppose I ought to have recognized it then, oughtn’t I, miss?”
“No more than I should have, but then all we had to go by were some wilting petals.”
He tilted his chin. “You don’t look happy to have solved your mystery, miss.”
“No, I’m not, particularly. I thought it might be a clue to whoever murdered the medium. Well, I shouldn’t keep you any longer. Enjoy your day, Jamie.”
“And you, too, miss. Mr. Gale. A good day to you both.”
As I swung my rig around to head home, Brady grumbled beneath his breath.
“What?” I demanded.
“You’re altogether too familiar with people sometimes, Em. Offering the man a ride. You hardly know him and he’s certainly not your social equal.”
“Social equal? Why, Brady Gale, what a snob you are. He’s a friend of Katie’s and that’s good enough for me.”
“Friend of Katie’s—Katie, your housemaid. That only further proves my point. It doesn’t do for someone like you to overextend courtesies to such people, little sister. Don’t think they don’t know who you are. And they’ll only take advantage of you in the end.”
The flap I gave the reins was more due to my growing annoyance than any desire to travel faster. At any rate, Barney ignored the command and continued at his usual sedate walk. “Stuff and nonsense,” I said. “Katie has been nothing but grateful and hardworking since I took her in, and Mr. Delgado seems genuinely pleased with having Jamie as his new assistant. No harm done as far as I can see nor any advantage taken.”
“I’m not talking about helping people find work. I’m talking about trusting where you should show caution.”
“Bah.” I could have reminded him I’d placed my trust in him not very long ago, and he’d betrayed my trust by involving me in his scheme to hoodwink Uncle Cornelius. It didn’t matter that my role was to help him return the stolen railroad plans. Had Uncle Cornelius chosen not to be generous, I might have been ostracized from the family. And as much as I sometimes complained about my Vanderbilt family . . . they were still my family.
A clip-clopping and the accompanying rumble of wheels alerted me to another vehicle approaching from a side street, yet I remained unprepared for the speed at which a curricle came bounding around the corner of Lakeview Avenue onto Bellevue. With only feet between us, I drew Barney up short, an action that elicited a startled snort from the animal and a hissed oath from Brady. The curricle swerved around us, creaking and tilting sharply; it continued north at the same madcap speed.
But not before I registered the identity of the driver: Winthrop Rutherfurd.
I twisted round to watch the receding rig. “What was that all about?”
Brady shrugged. “He’s in one devil of a hurry.”
“Indeed he is.” I was tempted to turn around and follow him, but he was already a number of streets away and hadn’t slowed one bit; Barney would never be able to match that pace, much less catch up. I sighed, resigned to not being able to satisfy my curiosity, at least not at present.
“Maybe Winty’ll give Mr. Reilly a ride to town.” Sarcasm sharpened Brady’s words. “He’d certainly get him there eons sooner than the trolley. But then, I can’t see old Rutherfurd sharing his rig with a gardener. Might soil the Spanish leather.”
“Oh, Brady, leave it, won’t you?” I snapped as we continued to Ocean Avenue. My mind returned to other, more immediate mysteries. “What I’d very much like to know is who gave Lady Amelia that rugosa rose; or in other words, whom she might be dallying with. It can’t be someone acceptable or she wouldn’t have hidden the fact from Aunt Alva.”
“Maybe it was Jamie Reilly,” Brady murmured. He hunched deeper into the seat, arms crossed over his chest.