Page 112 of The Queen of Roses

“Please give her my regrets, Mrs. Jarrett. I do not feel well enough for callers,” she said.

“Yes, madam.” Mrs. Jarrett seemed to hesitate. “That is, Mrs. Barnes was quite insistent. She said that she had an urgent matter upon which she wished to speak. She was quite agitated.”

“Did she elaborate on the reason for her agitation?”

“She did not,” said the housekeeper.

Adele sighed. “I suppose you should see her into the drawing room then. And would you please ask Maggie to help me change into something more appropriate?”

Maggie appeared a few moments later and helped Adele change out of her simple white cotton day dress into a more elaborate lavender tea dress with white lace at its high neck and cuffs. Then, with a final check that her pearl-topped comb was in place at the twist of her chignon to complete her half-mourning ensemble, Adele went downstairs to the drawing room.

When she opened the door, she found Mrs. Barnes not seated on one of the striped sofas as she expected but pacing about the room.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Barnes,” she said. “Won’t you sit? I have called for tea.”

“Oh, Mrs. Whitley. Have you heard the news?” asked the usually unflappable Mrs. Barnes, wringing her hands.

“What is the matter?” Adele asked, immediately alarmed by her friend’s demeanor.

“It is New York. There is a panic.”

“A what?” she asked, sitting down because she suspected that Mrs. Barnes would not follow suit unless Adele led by example.

Sure enough, Mrs. Barnes did sit, but right on the very edge of the sofa. “An institution called the Knickerbocker Trust Company has collapsed, and it has triggered a run on the banks. Everyone is rushing to withdraw their money.”

“Do you still have funds in New York?” She never would have asked such a direct question under normal circumstances, but her friend was clearly distressed.

“Most of my holdings are in Boston, where Raymond banked.”

“Then you should be safe,” said Adele.

Mrs. Barnes shook her head. “Already the panic has spread to other banks in the northeast. I have seen a panic like this before, in 1893. It will only be a matter of time before people everywhere begin rushing to their banks, demanding their money.”

“But surely if everyone simply would remain calm until someone might step in and help stabilize things—”

“I’m certain someone is talking about doing such a thing, but these matters take time to sort out,” said Mrs. Barnes.

Adele frowned. “Shouldn’t the government intervene?”

Mrs. Barnes gave a dissatisfied little laugh. “If we are forced to wait for the government to step in, we might well find ourselves with no banking system at all. No, it will be one of the titans of Wall Street, for our sins.”

“I suppose then that all there is to do is wait.” Adele hesitated. “Unless there is something you need assistance with.”

Mrs. Barnes waved a hand. “I will be just fine. But does Mr. Whitley have any concerns about the run?”

Adele’s stomach had dropped at Mrs. Barnes’s words, but she affected nonchalance. “Mr. Whitley? Why should he be concerned? His holdings are in California, not on the East Coast.”

Mrs. Barnes blinked, clearly a little taken aback by Adele’s question. “Forgive me if I’ve spoken out of turn, but I assumed that Mr. Whitley would have applied to the banks for the loans necessary to build his hotels. And then there is the matter of his investors. When there is panic like this about, men become funny about money. I understood that Mr. Whitley was trying to raise another round of investment for the San Gabriel Mountain Lodge, but if the men who have pledged their money withdraw it, he may run out of capital with which to continue building.”

“Guy told me that he used a combination of investment and the profits from the Andalusian to build the Colorado Grand, and that he intended to do the same with the San Gabriel Mountain Lodge,” she said, dread beginning to spread through her.

“Then he did not take out a loan for the building of the Colorado Grand?” asked Mrs. Barnes.

Adele hesitated. The letter she had found that afternoon stuffed between the pages of the household ledger from Guy’s banker said he had a loan on each of the hotels.

“He did,” she said.

Mrs. Barnes’s brows popped. “Do you know how he secured it?”