Rose awoke the next morning with puffy eyes and an ache in her body the likes of which she hadn't felt since the death of August. 

She longed to curl into the fetal position, pull the duvet over her head, and ignore the rising sun, but the need to escape the house before seeing William was too great. On top of that, she couldn't be tardy for her second day of work. Mr. Gallagher may sack her, or worse, become suspicious.

Cold water splashed onto her face made some improvement to the puffiness, and the application of mascara and rouge graduated her visage to something akin to attractive. However, the sadness in her eyes remained.

Forcing a smile onto her lips, Rose finished tidying up, selected a lavender dress from her wardrobe, and tiptoed down the stairs to find William's driver.

Once in town, Rose had the driver drop her off a block from the factory rather than near her cousin's flat. She had about as much desire to see or converse with Daphne as she had to see or converse with William. Rose didn't know what William had said to her cousin to make her betray one of Rose's deepest, most damning secrets, but it must have been something that shook the very foundation of her world.

At the present moment, however, as callous as it may seem, Rose didn't care. Juvenile, perhaps, but her anger and pain had not subsided nearly enough to pursue a conversation or explanation. She would seek Daphne out when she could once again bear to look at her.

It was far too early to go directly to the factory, so Rose took a detour to the Cavendish Kettle for some breakfast. Much as her stomach continued to rebel against her, she knew she would need sustenance to make it through the day ahead.

“Miss Appelbaum! 'Morning!” Mr. Cavendish greeted her as she entered the tea shop. He was wiping down the counter with a rag, but paused to give her a smile. “Turnin' into one o' me best customers, ya are. What can I get ya?”

Rose cast him with a weary smile of her own. “Good morning, Mr. Cavendish. Eggs, over easy. And the strongest coffee you have, please.”

【♖】

Energy renewed, Rose made her way through the main entrance of the factory at five minutes to nine. On her way up the stairs to the offices, Rose graced every worker she passed with a smile and a greeting. Allies were imperative if she was to survive the trials to come.

She took a seat at her desk just as her new boss bustled through the room, a harried expression on his stern face.

“Good morning, Mr. Gallagher,” Rose said.

“Eh? Oh, yes, 'morning,” Mr. Gallagher replied, distracted. He was sifting through a pile of papers and motioned absently to her. “Come with me, Miss Appelbaum. Got a job for ya.”

Intrigued, she rose from her desk and followed him into his office.

“Yes, sir?” she prompted.

Mr. Gallagher lowered himself onto the chair behind his desk and pulled a couple sheets of paper free from the stack. “Supplier I'm tryin' to partner with wants comprehensive numbers to review,” he told her. “A productivity report, in simplest terms. I want you to write it up. Just make it sound as cordial and professional as ya can. A couple o' paragraphs regardin' recent increases in productivity and their projections. Here.” He handed Rose the loose papers he'd pulled aside. “You'll find all the information, numbers, cost analysis, and whatnot on these.”

Rose skimmed the information he'd handed her. This should be simple enough. “I can certainly put that together for you, sir.”

“Good. How're your typin' skills?”

“I'm not especially fast, but I can guarantee the letter will read eloquently,” Rose told him.

“That's alright, then,” Mr. Gallagher said with a nod of approval. “I'd rather it be done well than done quick.”

“I'll get started right away,” Rose said. In truth, she was grateful for a task that would take her mind off the unpleasantries of the previous evening. “Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?”

Mr. Gallagher leaned back in his chair and appraised her, his flinty eyes taking on a pensive gleam. “I understand you were out with me son last night.”

Her stomach rolled in a somersault of anticipation. She'd nearly forgotten this part of the courting process. The parents had to approve, at least in polite society. If Mr. Gallagher didn't like the idea of his secretary seeing his son then that would be that. She'd have to abort her assignment, whether William liked it or not.

“I was, sir, yes,” Rose said in a meek voice. “I hope that's alright. He offered to take me for a drink, and I thought it impolite to refuse. If you don't approve, however, then obviously I'll refrain from any further consortium.”

Mr. Gallagher held up a hand. “I’ve got no problem with that. You're 'bout ten steps up from Jimmy's usual female company. Dimwitted tarts, most of 'em.” His sharp nose wrinkled in distaste. “To be frank, Miss Appelbaum, you're too good for my boy. But maybe being 'round ya will teach him to act right. What I'm sayin' is, carry on.”

It was all Rose could do to keep herself from sighing in dismay. “How kind of you to say so, sir,” she said through the clenched teeth of a fake smile. “Thank you.”

【♖】

All you care about is power. That is a lonely, dreadful life, and you have brought it upon yourself. You will never be happy. And I pity you.

Liam stared at the ceiling, his mind replaying Rose's parting words from the previous night on an infinite loop.

You will never be happy. ...And I pity you.

What he would give to be able to scoff and roll his eyes in his customary fashion at her emotional accusation. But he couldn't. Not without lying to himself. Her words cut deep and rang true. He knew she was right. This life, the life for which he'd toiled and bled so hard to achieve, was as much a curse as it was a blessing. And he'd brought the curse upon himself. Others had contributed, but his lack of happiness was primarily his own doing. Rose could see through his clouded, brooding exterior with an insight no one else possessed. Not even Clementine, during their all too brief marriage. It was unnerving.

Liam shifted in his chair and gazed around his office. Neglected documents were strewn across the desk. His door was closed, as it had been since he'd arrived that morning. He was in no mood for visitors, and he hadn't the patience to mollify that fact.

Rose had left the house before he'd come downstairs. She must have called on his driver and snuck out before the break of dawn, determined to escape. Liam had in no way imagined the two of them engaging in a pleasant conversation over breakfast, but the realization that Rose would go to such lengths just to avoid him caused a tightening in his chest that suspiciously resembled regret.

He didn't like it.

With a flick of his lighter and a tilt of his head, Liam lit a cigarette and took a calming drag. He was half tempted to call Rose at Gallagher's factory. He knew she'd be near a telephone. She was a secretary. Secretaries were always in the vicinity of a telephone.

But he resisted the urge. He didn't want to raise any suspicions in the instance that someone else were to answer the call. Or in the event that Rose accidentally addressed him by name. It was unlikely, as she was competent in her ruse, but she was also angry. Anger could lead to a slip of the tongue.

No, he wouldn't ring her. Besides, what could he possibly say?

Instead, he rang the house.

After a brief wait, Eleanor picked up. “Mercer residence.”

“Eleanor,” he said into the receiver. “It's me.”

“Yes, Mr. Mercer,” she acknowledged him. “What can I do for you, sir?”

“Has Rose rang home today?”

His housekeeper paused, likely surprised by his reason for calling. He waited.

“Miss Rose has not telephoned the house today, no,” Eleanor answered, her tone cautious. “I'm sorry, Mr. Mercer, should I be expecting a call from her?”

“No, Eleanor,” Liam sighed. He flicked the tip of his cigarette at the ashtray, sending gray cinders flying. “Not expecting, no. I was just askin'.”

“Of course, sir,” Eleanor said. She paused. “There have been a couple of calls for Miss Rose, however.”

Liam sat up straighter. “That right?”

“Yes, sir. Both from a lady,” Eleanor reported. “By her voice, I'd say young and prim. Said her name was...oh...here it is. ‘Daphne Lancaster.’ She sounded rather distraught, truth be told.”

So, Rose had already confronted her cousin about the shared secrets, and Miss Lancaster was trying to make amends. Liam felt the tightening in his chest increase. They were sharing the doghouse, or so it would seem.

Eleanor's voice reached him through the receiver, bringing him back to the present. “Mr. Mercer? Are you still there, sir?”

“Yes. Thank you, Eleanor,” Liam replied. “I appreciate the information.”

“Of course, sir. Anything else?”

“No. Nothin' else.”

“Very good, sir. We'll see you tonight.”

“G'bye, Eleanor.”

He hung up the telephone just as his office door opened. Kitty strode through, a pile of documents in hand and a stoney look of apathy etched on her features.

“Kitty,” Liam said, his voice full of warning. “Thought we talked about knockin'.”

“Might have done,” she replied, her tone indifferent. “Don't recall. These need your signature.” She dropped the pile unceremoniously in front of him.

He sighed, snubbed out his cigarette, and reached for a pen. As he made his way through the stack of papers, he noticed Kitty scrutinizing the chaotic state of his desk.

“Yes, Kitty?” he prompted. “What?”

“Nothin',” she replied. Her shoulders bobbed in a flippant shrug. “Guess you got no interest in work today, eh? Distracted? Or maybe daydreaming about playin' house with Rose last night? She a good lay, then?”

Liam huffed as he signed the final document. Of course their conversation would circle back to the previous night. Kitty was pissed. Likely hurt. But with everything else that demanded his mental attention at present, he had no spare energy to cater to her moods.

“I wouldn't know, since I haven't had a ‘lay’ with her,” he stated, handing Kitty the signed papers.

She snatched the stack from his hand and tossed her hair. “Yet. Right, Liam?”

“Kitty…”

“Don't worry. I'll show myself out. Gettin' good at it,” Kitty said. She turned on her heel and marched toward the door, but paused at the threshold. “Can't have the trash cluttering up your office. Right, Mr. Mercer?”

The door slammed shut behind her, leaving Liam alone.

【♖】

The work day passed in a blur. After finishing the productivity report (which Mr. Gallagher praised), Rose made some telephone calls, went to the post, went to the bank, then organized some files. Easy, monotonous work that left a great deal of time for her mind to wander.

And wander, it did. Down mental roads she had no desire to figuratively travel.

She had Mr. Gallagher's blessing to court his son. In all the farcical comedies and jacobean tragedies that had ever graced the stage, never had there been a plot twist of more irony. James Gallagher had agreed to allow his son to be manipulated by a spy of William Mercer, his most daunting and perhaps sole business rival.

Shakespeare would either be fascinated or horrified.

William would be thrilled.

Rose felt sick.

Mr. Gallagher left the office early for a meeting with a steel supplier. “See you in the mornin', Miss Appelbaum,” he said on his way out.

“Good night, sir,” she called as he stalked out the door.

A sigh of relief came. At least with Mr. Gallagher out for the evening she'd no longer have to censor her facial expressions. Small as it was, that development offered some reprieve.

At long last, the work day reached its end. Rose collected the messages Mr. Gallagher had received since his departure and took them into his office. As she set them on his desk, she noticed the dreadful tiger painting on the wall was off center again. Or perhaps, off center still.

It didn't matter. Again, still, always, whatever the case, it was driving her bonkers. Mr. Gallagher seemed a man who took notice of small insignificant details, so how was it he could sit in front of a crooked painting all day?

Maneuvering around his desk to the far wall, Rose grasped the painting's frame delicately by both bottom corners, noticing again that it hovered half an inch or so from the wall. Odd. Was it simply shoddy workmanship? Or something else?

She attempted to slide the painting into place, but it wouldn't budge. Using a bit more force, she tried again, to no avail.

Was it caught on something? A nail, perhaps? An imperfection in the wall or frame that caused it to catch?

A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed she was alone. No one to witness her poking around the boss' office. It was now or never.

With a tentative touch, Rose lifted the bottom of the frame away from the wall in search of the culprit. She heard a mechanical click.

The entire painting swung out and away on a hinge, revealing a hidden safe embedded in the wall.

Rose gasped and jumped back, colliding with the massive desk behind her. Mr. Gallagher's safe. It was here! Hiding in plain sight. She nearly leapt in delight when a sobering thought gave her pause. If she was discovered having found the safe, the punishment she'd suffer would be swift and severe. What excuse could she possibly give? There were none. None good enough to dispel the suspicious nature of a man like James Gallagher.

The fear of being caught came and went. It made little matter. She glanced over her shoulder again. Still alone. Punishments be damned.

Rose approached the safe with wary awe. It was nearly as large as the painting, black cast-iron, and sporting a metal lever and a large rotary dial. A numerical combination was required to open it. Likely, three digits. But the numbers assigned to the dial spanned from zero to ninety-nine. To simply begin guessing at the combination would be a fool's errand.

She couldn't open it tonight. That was plain. But she had found the safe, and more importantly, no one else knew she'd found the safe. It was inside Mr. Gallagher's office, therefore she could revisit it anytime.

With this thought in mind, Rose quickly swung the painting back against the wall on its hinge, inching it forward until she felt a catch. She attempted to wiggle the frame. Sound and secure.

Smiling, she retreated through the office door and returned to her desk. What a bit of serendipity! William would be pleased by her discovery.

Her face fell. William. She should let him know as soon as possible, but no, the utter lack of desire to speak to him remained, discovery or no discovery. He could rot.

A sudden repetitive thumping on the stairs caused Rose to startle. She turned toward the door just as her new beau appeared in the doorway, his signature oily smile in place.

“Oi, gorgeous,” Jimmy Gallagher said, looking her up and down in a manner that made her skin crawl. “Was hopin' I'd catch ya before ya left. I got business with me boys tonight, but I'm free tomorrow. You?”

“Tomorrow evening?” Rose clarified. She wondered what constituted as ‘business’ for Jimmy and his friends, but decided she was better off not knowing. “Free as a bird.”

“Brilliant!” he declared, his smile widening. “Have a spot o' supper with me. Tomorrow. I'll pick ya up after yo' shift.”

Again, a command rather than an invitation. But it was now apparently part of her job to go on outings with him. And in truth, at present, she'd rather suffer through dinner with Jimmy than sit at the same table as William.

“Supper, tomorrow evening,” Rose agreed, forcing a smile onto her face. “Splendid. How could I say no?”

【♖】

It was quite late by the time Liam returned to Warwick Hall that night. He'd stopped at the Broken Crown for a drink with his brothers, but their excitable voices going on and on about Tuppence's departure and Luisa's shopping habits wore on his nerves.

Atop the desk in his study, he found a terse note from Rose. It read:

Found Mr. Gallagher's safe.
Supper with Jimmy tomorrow.
Will attempt to ascertain the combination.

Liam turned the stationery over, expecting to see more. A signature, at least. But there was nothing.

Slipping the note into his pocket, Liam left his study and retired upstairs. He walked down the hallway, coming to a halt outside Rose's bedroom.

He stared at the closed door in silence for several seconds, then raised a hand to knock. His knuckles paused an inch from the varnished wooden surface, and instead, he tried the handle.

The door was locked.

Liam had the key to every door in Warwick Hall. Rose knew that. If he so chose, he could retrieve the keys and let himself in.

But to what end?

The locked door wasn't a barrier. It was a message. He wasn't welcome. Rose didn't want to see him.

Liam sighed and let go, allowing his hand to fall to his side. 

Alone in the hallway, he heard Rose's voice inside his mind: Yours is a lonely, dreadful life. You will never be happy. And I pity you.

【♜】【♞】【♟】

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