‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good.’ Weir turned to Amelia. ‘On your head be it if your quest to see everything gives you sleepless nights. I will bid you good afternoon.’
‘So, my afternoon is yours, Officer Murphy.’ She grinned, her brown eyes glinting with mischief. ‘What delights will you show me first?’
Twenty-Two
Ruby bent her head to the sewing machine in Pennington’s basement. All afternoon her fingers had worked the complicated row of stitches, but her thoughts remained jumbled and unsure.
Because you and your brother are coming to live with me…
Victoria’s words ran on a continual stream through Ruby’s mind. It didn’t matter that she’d protested against Victoria’s offer. It didn’t matter that she’d told her she couldn’t afford to pay her a decent amount of regular rent.
Victoria had been adamant, and now Ruby was torn between accepting her offer, which would undoubtedly give her and Tommy a chance to escape their mother… or to steadfastly refuse. The sensible first option would mean enduring the torture of not just seeing Victoria at work and occasional social outings, but living side by side, night after night, with a woman she desired heart, body and soul.
How was she to hide her feelings in such intimate circumstances? Would she see Victoria in her nightclothes? Walking from the bathroom with only a towel covering a body Ruby longed to touch and kiss? Yearning tingled through her and Ruby pressed her fingers tighter to the material she worked on. Such wanton lust in a woman towards a man was shameful enough, but to want Victoria as Ruby did was mortifying… and futile.
Across the room, her colleagues worked diligently at their machines, but Ruby’s cheeks burned that they might have sensed her incongruous thoughts.
Footsteps at the doorway turned her head and Ruby inwardly groaned as Hazel Price sauntered into the room, her weasel-like face further accentuated by her pinched smile and small, beady eyes flitting left and right as she sought her unfortunate prey.
Her gaze landed on Ruby and satisfaction immediately lit Hazel’s eyes.
What in God’s name did the woman want now?
Day after day, Hazel Price haunted Ruby on the floors and departments of Pennington’s like an annoying beetle, scurrying and skitting about, spreading her spite and negativity. There could be no doubt she knew of Ruby’s secret love of Victoria, that her desire for her went beyond the platonic. The question was, what did Hazel intend to do about it?
‘Miss Taylor, just the person I was looking for.’ Hazel walked closer, her expression predatory. ‘I’ve been sent up with some material for you from the workroom. Mr Carter said you will know what it’s for.’
Ruby stood, her spine ramrod straight, braced for whatever Hazel was ready to launch at her. She took the bolt of ivory satin. ‘Thank you. Can you tell Mr Carter I will be in a position to start working on a wedding display in the next week or so?’
‘Weddings. Funny things, aren’t they?’ Hazel strolled around Ruby’s workspace, her long fingers sweeping over the material swatches and lengths of ribbon. ‘They’re so banal, don’t you think?’
‘If you say so.’ Ruby laid the material on a chest of drawers and crossed her arms. ‘Is there anything else you wanted?’
‘Hmm?’
‘You’ve delivered the material. If there’s no other reason for you to stay, I’d like to get back to my work.’
‘Oh, your work… is that all you have occupying your mind today, Miss Taylor? Only…’
Ruby curled her hands into fists, her nails pinching into her palms. ‘Only what?’
Hazel stopped and held Ruby’s gaze, her eyes burning with familiar malice. ‘Only, I understand from Mrs Lark that you will soon have matters far more pressing than anything Mr Carter or Miss Pennington might demand of you.’
Ruby felt the colour drain from her face as her mouth dried. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘You don’t know?’
‘Why would I ask if I did?’
‘Well, let’s just say I’m all for the modern woman. Modern situations. But really, Miss Taylor, you and Mrs Lark living together when it’s clear the relationship is so much more than friendly. Everyone has seen the desirous way you look at her. Your feelings are clearly written in your eyes. In fact, your interest in Mrs Lark is quite the topic of interest in the workroom. I daresay the same will be true throughout the entire store by the end of the week.’
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ Ruby turned away, her fingers trembling as she rearranged some needles on her table, her heart racing. ‘Mrs Lark and I are friends. Nothing more, nothing less. I’d thank you not to spread your malicious, unsubstantiated gossip around the workroom or anywhere else, for that matter.’
‘Gossip? About your inappropriate interest or you moving into Mrs Lark’s house? Oh, well, I know for certain the moving in is not gossip, at least. I heard it straight from the horse’s, or should I say, Mrs Lark’s mouth.’
Ruby slowly turned, sickness rolling through her. Surely, Victoria would not have made her offer of a room to Ruby public knowledge? And to Hazel of all people?
Hazel grinned spitefully. ‘So, it is true. Look at the colour of your face. Well, such open flaunting of such a repulsive relationship is quite unorthodox, I must say.’
Anger swept through Ruby on an undulating wave. How dare she? She trembled as she fought to stem the urge to slap the woman. Ruby squared her shoulders. She would not waver in front of Hazel. Or anyone else. She and Victoria, if she chose to live with her, would be doing nothing wrong.
She crossed her arms. ‘Mrs Lark is a widow. Living with her maid in a house she owns. She has offered for my brother and me to stay with her while I’m going through a few difficulties. I have neither accepted nor refused. So, why don’t you reel in that nasty tongue of yours, swallow whatever ridiculous conclusions you’ve jumped to and leave this department? Right now.’
Hazel’s smile widened, her eyes alight with glee. ‘Or what?’
‘Or…’ Ruby stepped closer, her hand hovering over the pair of scissors next to her. ‘I might not be able to contain my patience as I am now. That’s what.’
Hazel’s gaze shifted to the scissors and her smile wavered for a brief second, before she lifted her chin. ‘I’ll be on my way then. I look forward to seeing how this little story plays out. Good day, Miss Taylor.’
Ruby held herself rigid, the stares of her colleagues burning into her from every direction. She kept her focus on Hazel, met her glare when the witch threw a parting glance over her shoulder.
Swallowing hard, Ruby returned to her sewing machine and sat, the fraught silence of the room pressing down on her. She had to say something. Do something. She was more or less in charge of the department while Amelia was away, and Miss Pennington was coming to trust her. Rely on her. She could not let her down and wane in the authority she’d been granted.
She purposefully met the open stares of her colleagues. ‘Do you need more work, ladies? Or should I tell Mr Carter this week’s display will not be ready in time, and we’ll not be able to start on the wedding display next week as planned?’
All three women mumbled a ‘no’ and turned back to their work.
But not fast enough for Ruby to not notice their smirks, their undisguised delight, in all that Hazel had just purposely played out in front of them.
No doubt her and Tommy living with Victoria would soon be the subject of word by word scrutiny.
Ruby faced her machine, hating that her vision blurred behind her tears.
She had to make a choice.
To stand up and accept Victoria’s offer with proud finality or bury her shame and vow never to speak or bother Victoria again, in the hope she escaped the store’s speculation.
Twenty-Three
Amelia walked beside Samuel, trying her hardest not to think about his handsome face, broad shoulders and dangerously disarming smile. The strangest, unexpected sensation had skittered over the
surface of her skin when he’d winked at her in front of Mr Weir. A sensation that felt far too much like attraction… something she had begun to think herself incapable of feeling after the rape.
Yet, she was attracted to Samuel. Exceedingly so.
He touched a secret part of her soul, of her heart. Never before had a man given her such undivided, unconditional attention. He listened when she spoke about her work and seemed to understand her passion for it, taking an interest in her cause to explore every part of the Titanic. What she was beginning to feel for Samuel went beyond his extraordinary looks.
Time and again, she searched for any indication his interest in her might be grounded in an ulterior motive or come with a clause that he would reveal in time. Yet, she saw nothing but kindness in him. A gentle attentiveness that she enjoyed, rather than turned away from.
Regardless, she had to remain mindful that she had been caught in a similar situation before. Softened by the helping hand of a man she’d thought considerate and, instead, had been a monster.
‘So, what would you like to see first, Miss Wakefield?’ Samuel glanced at her, his brilliant blue eyes happy. ‘I don’t have access to the cabins, I’m afraid, but I can show you the dining room and common areas?’
Amelia stopped, her confused intuition about him overtaking her politeness. ‘Why are you so determined to help me, Officer Murphy? Not that I don’t appreciate it.’
‘It’s Samuel, remember? Especially when we’re alone.’ He smiled, his eyes gentle on hers. ‘I want to help you because I like you.’
Heat crept into her cheeks, pleasure warming her heart. ‘But you barely know me.’
‘True, but I like what I know so far. Is that so bad?’
‘No, I don’t suppose it is… Samuel.’ She carefully studied him as a delicious happiness rippled through her. ‘And I’d very much like you to call me Amelia. Especially when we’re alone.’
His grin lit his entire face. ‘Come on. Let’s start with the dining room.’
He offered her his arm and, once again, instinctive self-preservation rose. Amelia hesitated and tried her hardest to fight her demons. Samuel is not a monster. He won’t hurt me like the master did.
She slipped her hand onto Samuel’s arm and exhaled shakily. ‘We should tell each other a little more about ourselves. You already know I work for Pennington’s and have for about two years. I started in the workroom, stitching and sewing buttons and gradually worked my way into the design department. I love my job. Do you enjoy being a seaman? Is sailing on the Titanic a dream come true?’
‘Not a dream come true, no.’
The rare disquiet in his voice surprised her. ‘Oh?’
He stared ahead, his jaw a hard line. ‘The Titanic is my temporary, maybe even permanent, escape from responsibility.’
‘Surely there can be no responsibility more arduous than being a crew member of such a phenomenal vessel? People all over the world are mesmerised by this ship. That must put an enormous amount of pressure on everyone involved.’
‘Maybe, but the job isn’t the responsibility I’m referring to. I love sailing. Love being on the water. I’m referring to the obligations I have at home. Financial and emotional.’ He hesitated as though trying to decide whether or not to elaborate, before he abruptly stared ahead. ‘My father was a seaman, too. He died suddenly from an accident on the Southampton docks. So, with his death, I became solely responsible, at the grand old age of nineteen, for my ma and sisters.’
‘They don’t work?’
‘No, I wouldn’t necessarily want Ma to. In fact, I’m no longer sure she could. She’s been… fragile since my father’s passing. He looked after her from the day they married. As for my sisters…’ He shook his head. ‘I’m beginning to think they’re a lost cause. I swear, Ma considers them ladies of high breeding rather than daughters of a sailing man.’
‘I see.’
But she didn’t see at all. How could his sisters, who were clearly capable of working, leave their brother solely accountable for their prosperity? She had worked in some form or another her entire life. Dark, hard memories pressed down on her and Amelia glanced at Samuel, afraid he might see the self-pity in her eyes. He continued to stare ahead, seemingly lost in thought.
She cleared her throat. ‘I can’t imagine what it’s like being part of a family. I’m sorry so much has fallen to you.’
‘You’re an only child?’
‘Yes.’
‘And your parents live in Bath?’
Amelia swallowed, afraid to talk about her private life, but wanting to just a little with Samuel. Would it really hurt to tell him something of her childhood? ‘My mother died birthing me.’
His soft gaze searched hers. ‘I’m sorry.’
She quickly looked away lest she fell into the ocean-blue kindness in his eyes. ‘There’s no need for your sympathy. I’ve managed well enough.’
‘And your father?’
‘Was forced to give me up to an orphanage. Having been born out of wedlock, neither his family nor my mother’s wanted anything to do with me. I stayed at the orphanage, learned to sew and knit and when I turned fifteen…’
Further words caught in her throat. She could not tell him about her time in service. Samuel had a way of looking at her that made her want to share too much with him. To unburden herself for the first time in her life. She had no idea why. The connection she felt with him made no sense.
Yet, she instinctively sensed she could trust this man – this relative stranger.
Absolute, unsubstantiated foolishness that she needed to stem.
‘I worked as a maid in a grand house until I got a position at Pennington’s.’ She forced a smile. ‘And I haven’t looked back since.’
He studied her before he winked in that toe-curling way of his. ‘A strong woman then. Just as I thought.’
Despite the words of warning to herself, an undeniable pride burned inside of her as they walked on. No one had ever called her strong before. Talented, yes. Hardworking, most certainly. But strong? Never. She stood a little taller, risked another glance at Samuel’s profile and a warmth stirred deep in her chest that was as delightful as it was terrifying.
He led her down a set of steps to the lower deck and she gently pulled him to a stop at the bottom of the stairs as realisation dawned. ‘Do you mean you won’t be returning from America? Is that what you meant by a permanent escape?’
He eased her hand from his arm and swiped his hand over his face, a sudden tiredness clouding his eyes. ‘I shouldn’t dwell on what ifs and maybes. They’ll most likely come to nothing.’
‘But that’s what you meant? You could possibly stay in New York?’
‘My friend thinks I should stay in America, but Archie’s a dreamer. Thinks anything in this world is entirely possible.’
Didn’t she believe the very same thing? ‘And you don’t?’
He glanced along the corridor. ‘I’ve had dreams in the past, but quickly learned such thinking is futile.’
His frustration was palpable, and Amelia had the sudden urge to comfort him. ‘Even now, when you are aboard a ship bound for America? Surely, a year, two years ago, you could not have envisioned yourself here as you are now? Isn’t that proof enough that we have to think bigger than ourselves? That we have the right to imagine the unimaginable and revel in our dreams when they come true?’
His gaze wandered slowly over her face. ‘You’re a breath of fresh air, do you know that? You have such…’
Her heart beat a little faster. ‘What?’
‘Such wilfulness.’
She laughed. ‘Wilfulness?’
‘Yes.’ He grinned. ‘Like you believe life is exciting, bountiful and true.’
Amelia’s smile dissolved, and she turned away from his admiring gaze as a fire lit by disappointment, hurt and rape twisted inside of her. ‘Life is full of challenges and ways of making us turn away from the light. From opportunity.’ She faced him, lifted her chin. ‘B
ut I have vowed to never allow anything, or anyone, make me waver in my wish to have a good life and inspire the same in others ever again.’
A deep line appeared between his brows as he studied her. ‘Did something happen to you, Amelia?’ he asked softly.
Amelia purposefully held his gaze, her heart racing. ‘That is neither here nor there.’
Several seconds passed before he gave a firm nod, understanding seeping into his gaze. ‘You’re right, it isn’t. Archie thinks there is nothing to stop me from sending money home, finding my own life. Maybe he’s right, but dreaming about escape is one thing, actually doing it is another.’
Amelia touched his arm, willing her passion to ease as she softened her voice, lest he think her ever so slightly mad. ‘But wouldn’t it be an unbelievable adventure if you were to stay?’
‘Yes. Yes, it would.’
She stared at him as her imagination ran wild with ponderings of what it would be like to start a new life across the Atlantic. Her stomach knotted just imagining what excitements would lie ahead for Samuel if he took that leap. Of what awaited her on this trip to a new land.
‘You’re beautiful, do you know that?’
She blinked, words catching in her throat.
‘Really, really beautiful.’ He smiled. ‘Shall we go?’
Her steps lighter, they ventured deeper into third class towards the dining room. He had called her beautiful and said so many other wonderful things to her… about her.
Amelia briefly closed her eyes and forced her focus to her work, the increased noise of the engines providing the perfect excuse to not indulge in further conversation.
As they neared a set of double doors, a uniformed steward straightened his shoulders, eyeing them with clear suspicion.
‘Leave this to me.’ Samuel strode forward and touched his hat in greeting. ‘Good afternoon, is it possible we can access the dining room? Only, Miss Wakefield has possibly left her gloves at one of the tables.’
A Shop Girl at Sea Page 11
