☆ ᴡᴀᴛᴛʏꜱ 2024 SHORTLISTER!! ☆
A tragic misunderstanding. A murder. A secret. An unlikely partnership. A spirited countess and an enterprising racketeer.
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Manchester, England. May 1925.
The Roarin' 20s. An era of glamor, decadent parties, jazz mus...
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“You're moving? Into William Mercer's house?” Daphne exclaimed. “But...why all of a sudden?”
It was a fair question. And one Rose could not answer with absolute honesty.
Rose packed the last of her books and photographs into a box. Her travel trunk sat nearby, full of her clothing and possessions. As she secured the lid of the box, she could feel Daphne's watchful eyes following her every movement.
Since leaving The Sparrow yesterday afternoon, Rose had been able to think of nothing but her impending move. Even while visiting the refugees, she'd existed within a constant fog of distraction and fret. She'd planned to tell Daphne as soon as she saw her, but her cousin had been so exhausted when she'd returned home from work the previous night that Rose had decided to wait until this morning to share her news.
As a result, Daphne had nearly spit her coffee in Rose's face.
“The job begins immediately,” Rose said, eyes averted. “Mr. Mercer wants me there tonight. He provided no specifics regarding the urgency, nor did I ask.”
“But you hardly know him!” Daphne protested. There was a thunk as she set her coffee cup down on the kitchen counter. “And to move so quickly... Rose, I'm worried for you. What kind of job is this?”
“I'll give you more information as soon as I have it,” Rose promised. She wondered if that was a promise she'd be able to keep.
“You mean, you don't know?”
“Not as of yet.”
“Rose, you're going to work for William Mercer, while living on his property, and you don't know what manner of job he plans to have you do?” Daphne cried. “Have you gone mad?”
“No, I most certainly have not,” Rose snapped. “There are extenuating circumstances. Now, please, leave me be.”
“Extenuating..?” Daphne let out a loud gasp. “You—! Rose! Please tell me you're not sleeping with him!”
“For God's sake, Daphne, of course not!” Rose exclaimed, whirling around to face her cousin. “How could you ask such a thing? It's a job. I'll be able to use the wages he pays me to help the refugees. Alright? That's all. Now please, drop it. I'm begging you.”
“I'll drop it,” Daphne said, an air of suspicion in her voice. “For now. But just know that I don't like this, Rose. I don't like it at all.”
“Noted,” Rose murmured. She didn't like it either.
【♖】
The knot in Rose's stomach pulled tighter with each passing minute. As promised, the car arrived at half past six, and Rose climbed into the backseat in a daze, feeling as though she were observing herself from a great height.
She glanced up at the window of her cousin's second-story flat and saw Daphne standing on the other side of the glass, watching her. With a shaky hand, Rose waved in farewell.
