A four-horse Brougham carriage pulled up in front of Henry. It was the absolute pinnacle of luxury for the era, a private, enclosed hardtop with two facing bench seats inside.
Henry gave the driver the address, then settled into the plush interior and closed the doors and windows, a welcome relief from the overwhelming smells of the city.
Ten minutes later, they arrived at their destination: the Sinclair estate on Fifth Avenue.
Henry opened the window and admired the six-acre property. A three-story, Renaissance-style stone mansion stood at its center. He could see a large fountain in the garden behind the iron gate, along with lush green lawns and a grove of tall maple trees.
The gate opened, and the carriage rolled through. Inside, the grounds were even more impressive, with a swimming pool, a gazebo, and winding, tree-shaded paths.
The carriage stopped at the marble archway of the main entrance. The valet, Leon, opened the door for him.
"Good afternoon, Uncle Marvin," Henry said, greeting the man and two young women waiting at the door. "Alice, it's been a long time."
Marvin, William's eldest son and Alice's father, smiled warmly. "Good afternoon, Henry. It's wonderful to see you."
"Good afternoon, Henry," Alice said with her own bright smile. "How have you been?"
Henry's gaze lingered on her. In her white evening gown, she looked exactly like Keira Knightley in Pride and Prejudice. This was the childhood friend he remembered, the English rose.
Alice, in turn, felt her own heart flutter. The quiet, shy boy she had known for so long had vanished. In his place stood a tall, handsome, and impossibly confident man, a figure straight out of a romance novel. Beside her, her younger sister, Fiona, was already completely star-struck.
"I've been well, Alice. And you?"
"The same."
After a few pleasantries, Marvin led them into the great hall and they sat down. The interior of the house was breathtaking, a testament to the Sinclair's immense wealth, filled with priceless sculptures, massive crystal chandeliers, and exquisite carvings.
"It's a shame about Bryan," Marvin said, after inquiring about his parents' health. "He was a powerful man. We are grateful to you, Henry, for seeing his family safely to New York."
"It was my duty," Henry said, his voice low. "The men behind his murder will not escape justice."
"Henry, is it true?" Fiona blurted out. "Did you really kill sixty-eight train robbers all by yourself, like the papers said?"
"Henry, this is Fiona," Alice said, introducing her younger sister.
"Hello, Fiona," Henry said with a smile. "It's true. They used a machine gun and slaughtered forty guards. I had no choice."
"That's amazing! You're so cool!" she gushed.
"Alice," Henry said, turning his attention back to her, "I've accepted an invitation to Consuelo Vanderbilt's birthday party on the 29th. When were you planning to return to Frisco?"
"My original plan was to leave on August 1st," she said with a smile.
"Perfect. We'll travel back together then."
They chatted for another half hour, and then Marvin excused himself, leaving the "young people" to themselves.
Alice invited Henry for a walk in the garden, much to Fiona's disappointment.
It was just after 5:30 PM. The sun was low in the sky, and a gentle breeze blew through the fragrant flower gardens. As they walked, Henry felt a sense of peace he hadn't felt in a long time.
"How have you changed so much, Henry?" Alice asked, her tone direct. "Your shooting was never even as good as mine. And you've gotten so tall! I only come up to your eyes now."
Henry measured her with his gaze. She was about 1.7 meters tall, the same as Edith, and strikingly tall for a woman of this era.
"Well," he said, his voice a soft, teasing murmur, "I didn't know how tall you were going to get. I had to work hard to keep up."
Alice took a step back, a look of pure surprise on her face. "You've really changed," she said. "The old Henry never would have said something like that. He just would have blushed and smiled."
"And do you like the change?" Henry asked, a confident, easy grin on his face.
"Henry," she said, a playful, challenging light in her eyes, "I find you've gotten a lot bolder."
"Is that so?" he said with a smile. "Let me see just how bold." He reached into his coat, and when his hand emerged, he was holding an exquisitely carved wooden gun case.
"A gift for you," he said, holding it out to her.
She didn't take it. Instead, she stepped forward, opened his suit jacket, and patted down his shirt, her eyes wide with bewilderment.
"How did you do that?" she demanded, a look of pure, unadulterated astonishment on her face.