She felt a huge sense of relief, and was glad she had told him.
He lifted his hand, and for a moment she thought he was going to run the back of it across her cheek. But then he dropped it again, making her both relieved and strangely disappointed.
‘But I’m concerned about what might happen to you in New York. It’s possible Barker has telegraphed to Silas Montmerency, to let him know you will be there. And even if he hasn’t, Barker himself is likely to pursue you. This friend of yours, the one you are meeting - will he be able to protect you?’
She hesitated. Charlie was a dear, but able to protect her? No.
‘Because if he can’t, I can.’
She knew that what he said was true. He was a strong man, and a determined one. He would be able to protect her from any danger that threatened her.
‘That is very kind, but … ’
‘Would you consider staying with my mother and myself in New York, instead of your friend, until you can book a passage to Ireland? That way I could be sure you’d be safe.’
She was touched by his concern.
‘That’s very kind of you, but I don’t think it would be proper.’
‘With my mother there, it couldn’t be anything else. I don’t want to press you, but will you at least think about it?’
‘Yes. Thank you. I will.’
A warm smile lit his eyes. It seemed as though he wanted her to stay.
But then, he was just being kind, she reminded herself. She had helped his mother, and in return he was helping her.
‘Emilia … ’ he said, reaching out and clasping her hand.
The door opened, and the Countess of Rothes entered the room with her companion.
‘Thank you,’ said Emilia formally, hastily reclaiming her hand. ‘You have been most kind.’
With the Countess there, he could say nothing to detain her, and she left the room. Her feelings were in turmoil. She longed to accept his offer, but she could not disguise form herself the fact that it had less to do with a desire to be safe than a desire to be with Carl. He drew her in a way no man had ever drawn her before. And yet she must not allow herself to indulge in such thoughts. His offer had sprung out of a concern for her safety and she would be foolish if she allowed herself to imagine it had been anything else.
Dangerous though it would be to stay in New York with Barker and Silas Montmerency looking for her, she had the unsettling feeling it would be far more dangerous to stay with Carl Latimer.
Carl remained in the reading room only long enough to engage in a little polite conversation with the Countess of Rothes before he made his way down to second-class to speak to Hutton. He knocked on the door of Hutton’s room and was quickly admitted.
‘There’s something I want you to do,’ he said, as Hutton hastily put on his coat. ‘There’s a man in steerage who goes by the name of Barker. I want him watched. On no account are you to let him pass through into first-class accommodation.’
‘What do you want me to do if he tries it?’ asked Hutton. ‘Do you want me to come and tell you, or do you want me to stop him?’
‘I want you to stop him. Use an excuse if you can, but if needs be use force.’
Hutton nodded.
‘And Hutton, under no circumstances allow him to go near the telegraph office.’
‘Very good, sir. How long am I to keep him under surveillance?’
‘Until we leave the ship at New York. Possibly beyond. I’ll let you know that at the time.’
‘Very good, sir, I’ll get right on it.’
‘Good man.’
Carl left the stateroom, and made his way to the telegraph office, intending to find out if Barker had sent a telegraph to Silas Montmerency, revealing that Emilia was aboard the ship. If that was the case, Carl needed to know about it, so that he could take additional steps to protect her in New York. The telegraph office was busy, but at last he was able to find that no telegrams had been sent. Barker wanted to be sure of her first, Carl guessed. It was no use saying he had her, and then leaving Mr Montmerency to rave at him if he lost her. It was a relief, because protecting Emilia would have been a lot more difficult in New York, particularly if she had refused to stay with him.
He found his thoughts going to the man she intended to stay with. Who was he, this man? A childhood friend, she had said, but childhood friends could, on occasion, turn into something more.
At the thought of it he felt the stirrings of an uncomfortable emotion, and he realized it was jealousy. The strength of his feelings took him by surprise. He had never felt jealous of any man before, but couldn’t hide from himself that fact that he was jealous of Charles. It was Charles who would have the pleasure of Emilia’s company in New York; Charles who would have an opportunity to show her round the splendid city and take her to see the sights.
He gritted his teeth as he thought of it.
One way or another, Emilia Cavendish seemed to have been created to destroy his peace of mind.
Chapter Seven
The weather became colder overnight. When Emilia ventured out on deck on Sunday morning she was glad of her warm coat, her gloves and her hat, because where the air touched her face it had a raw feel. It was not to be wondered at. They were now in the fifth day of their voyage, and they were reaching chillier climes.
She walked briskly along the deck to stimulate her circulation, wishing her fellow passengers a ‘Good morning’. The gentlemen tipped their hats and the ladies returned her greeting, commenting on the change in the weather.
At the end of the deck she saw a seaman leaning over the railing with a rope in his hands. Curious as to what he could be doing she went over to the side of the deck to watch him. As she drew closer she saw that he was lowering a pail over the side of the ship, letting out the coil of rope as the pail descended towards the water.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked him curiously.
He turned towards her briefly.
‘Taking the water temperature, miss,’ he said, before turning back to his task.
‘Will the pail reach?’ she asked, looking down at the sea and trying to gauge the length of the rope attached to it. It seemed a long way to the water.
‘Not with this breeze it won’t,’ he said gruffly, as the pail banged against the side of the ship. ‘Not even with the pail being weighted.’
‘It’s a long way down to the surface,’ she said, as she leaned over the rail to get a better look.
‘That it is. It’s seventy five feet, miss.’
It looked all of that. The waves were dwarfed by the ship, and, being so far below, looked like little more than ripples on a mill pond. The seaman began to reel in the pail, coiling the rope in his hand as he did so. Then, taking hold of the pail, he went over to a stand pipe and filled it with water before putting a thermometer into it and taking the temperature.
‘Is it very cold?’ asked Emilia.
‘Colder than usual,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t wonder if we don’t come across ice later today.’
Ice was a feature of ocean voyages, or so, at least, Pansy had said, and Emilia found herself wondering if she would see any ice floes. She rather hoped she would. She was enjoying her journey, and she reflected that she would have a lot to tell her godmother when she finally arrived in Ireland.
She resumed her walk along the deck. It was busy, as usual, with people playing quoits or taking the air. There were fewer people sitting today, she noticed. Even out of the wind it was cold. However, she enjoyed being outside. It might be cold, but the wind brought a glow to her cheeks, and she found the sea air invigorating.
After a while she began to notice the other passengers leaving the deck and glanced at her watch. It was almost time for divine service.
She followed them inside. There were a number of people heading towards the first-class dining-room, where the divine service was to be held. She chose a seat close to the piano, then slipped off her coat and hung it over the back of her chair before look
ing about her.
To her relief, Carl was not there. It was becoming increasingly difficult for her to meet him with equanimity, and she was glad she did not have anything further to try her self control.
After a few minutes Captain Smith entered the room.
Emilia had often seen the Captain walking about the ship, and had wished him a ‘Good morning’ or a ‘Good afternoon’ on several occasions, but this was her first opportunity to spend any great length of time in his presence. As he walked down the room, she thought how well he looked. His white hair, white moustache and full beard gave him an air of solidity. His uniform was smart and commanded respect. With its peaked cap, well-cut coat, brass buttons and polished shoes it fit in with everything else on the Titanic, looking fresh and attractive. On his sleeve were four gold stripes denoting his rank.
He greeted the passengers affably, wishing individuals a ‘Good morning’ before he took his place at the front of the congregation.
Just before the service began, Pansy slipped into the room and sat down next to Emilia with Robert beside her.
‘Good morning, did you sleep well?’ she asked.
‘Yes, very well,’ said Emilia.
‘So did I. I slept like a top. It’s the sea air. It always puts me out like a light.’
Emilia exchanged greetings with Robert, who had settled himself down next to Pansy, and who then took up his hymn book and idly turned the pages, as he waited for the service to begin.
‘We’re so lucky to have Captain Smith,’ said Pansy, as she turned her eyes forward. ‘He’s the best Captain there is. Robert and I have sailed under him before. Some people won’t sail under anyone else. They call him the millionaires’ captain, you know, because he always captains the best ships. But then it’s not surprising. He’s steady, and he’s safe. I asked him once about his years at sea, and do you know what he said? He said they’d been uneventful. Isn’t that the best thing for a captain to say? He’s never been in any accident worth speaking of, he told me. In fact, I’ve heard him saying so many times.’
‘Yes, we’re in safe hands, all right,’ said Robert. ‘Smith’s an experienced man. He’s been making the Atlantic crossing for years.’
The conversation gradually dwindled into silence and the service began. It was a simple ceremony, but it was conducted with dignity. Captain Smith had a wonderful presence and a fine voice. As the service progressed, Emilia could see why people liked to travel with him. There was an air of calm assurance about him which promoted a feeling of confidence in those who saw or heard him.
At last the service was over.
The congregation thanked the Captain, then began to drift out of the dining-room and go their separate ways.
‘I’m surprised there is no lifeboat drill,’ said Pansy as they left the dining-room. ‘There’s always a drill on the first Sunday of a voyage. I can’t think why Captain Smith didn’t hold one today.’
‘He doesn’t need to,’ laughed Robert. ‘This ship’s unsinkable. What does he want to hold a lifeboat drill for, on an unsinkable ship?’
‘Is it really unsinkable?’ asked Pansy.
‘Of course it is,’ replied Robert. ‘I heard one of the deck hands saying so earlier. One of the passengers asked him “Is this ship really unsinkable?” and he said, “Yes, lady, God himself could not sink this ship”.’
Pansy laughed.
‘Oh, Robert!’
‘It’s true. Besides, there’s no way a ship could sink these days,’ Robert went on. ‘Even Captain Smith thinks so. Don’t you remember what he said, on the maiden voyage of the Adriatic?’
‘Now you mention it, yes, I do,’ said Pansy. ‘We sailed on the Adriatic’s maiden voyage as well,’ explained Pansy to Emilia. ‘It was a splendid voyage. I was wearing my dark red coat and ribboned hat, I remember, as we arrived in New York. Captain Smith said he couldn’t imagine any condition which would cause a ship to founder. He said modern shipbuilding had gone beyond that.’
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said Emilia with a smile.
They chatted for a few more minutes, and then Emilia excused herself, arranging to meet Pansy and Robert again for dinner that evening. She returned to her stateroom, intending to deposit her coat before heading for the library.
Hardly had she hung away her coat and tidied her hair, however, repairing the damage caused by her walk along the deck, when there was a knock at the door. To her surprise, when she opened it, she found Mrs Latimer standing there.
‘Mrs Latimer. What a pleasant surprise. Do, please, come in,’ said Emilia, welcoming Mrs Latimer into the room.
‘Thank you, dear. I don’t mind if I do.’
Her step was light, her cheeks were rosy, and she seemed full of life.
‘It’s a good thing you’re here,’ said Mrs Latimer, as Emilia offered her a seat. ‘I called a few times yesterday but you were out.’
‘I was exploring the ship,’ Emilia said. ‘Would you like some tea, or coffee?’ she asked, once Mrs Latimer had sat down.
‘Oh, yes, I’d like a cup of coffee,’ she said. ‘It seems a long time since I had my breakfast.’
Emilia rang for Mrs McLaren, her stewardess, then sat down opposite Mrs Latimer.
‘This is nice,’ said Mrs Latimer, looking appreciatively round the sitting-room.
‘Isn’t it?’ agreed Emilia, following her gaze and taking in the elaborately moulded fireplace and the elegant chairs. ‘I knew Titanic was magnificent but I never imagined my sitting-room would be so sumptuous.’
‘And these chairs are comfy,’ said Mrs Latimer, settling herself back in her seat. ‘Now it seems to me these ships are getting better all the time.’
‘I keep having to remind myself I’m on a ship at all,’ said Emilia with a smile.
‘I know just what you mean. It’s got so many libraries and cafés, it’s like being in a town instead of on a ship. But it’s a good thing I’ve found you in at last. I’ve been wanting to talk to you,’ said Mrs Latimer.
She broke off as the stewardess entered with a tray of coffee. The coffee was in a silver coffee pot, and next to it were cups and saucers, a cream jug and sugar bowl, all in fine Crown Derby china.
‘Will there be anything else, miss?’ asked Mrs McLaren.
‘No, thank you,’ said Emilia. ‘That will be all.’
Once Mrs McLaren had gone, Emilia poured out two cups of coffee.
When both ladies had taken a sip, Mrs Latimer said, ‘Do you know, it’s a good thing you came into my cabin on Thursday and said that Dr Allerton was a fraud. I didn’t have a chance to thank you properly over dinner, what with Mr Ismay and Mr Andrews being there, but it’s made a big difference to my life. Carl’s got rid of the doctor, and I can do as I like. I can’t remember when I had such a good time.’
They fell easily into conversation about Titanic and all the wonderful things there were to do on board. The conversation then progressed to Mrs Latimer’s life in New York, and the difficulty she had had in fitting in to her new circumstances in life before she had settled and started to enjoy herself as much as her low spirits had allowed.
‘I’m very proud of Carl,’ she said, ‘but it was hard making friends in a new place, especially when I’d never been anywhere so grand in all my life. I liked my terrace house, but Carl wanted me to have something better. Not that I’m complaining, but I didn’t think it was better myself. There was always something going on and everyone was always so neighbourly when we lived in Southampton. We helped each other. We had to. Things were hard. Then away we went to America and it was all very different. I never had to go shopping or make the meals. It was easy, but it was lonely.’
Emilia could well imagine it.
When she had been growing up she had lived in a lovely big house, but it had been in a small village where everyone knew everyone, and where the same families had lived for generations. Then, when she had moved to Southampton, she and Aunt Clem had lived in a terrace house where neighbourliness had
been the rule. But to go to live in a big house in a large community, not knowing anyone, must have been difficult.
‘Well of course I tried to get to know the neighbours,’ said Mrs Latimer, ‘but they pretended they weren’t in and didn’t come to see me. Well, all except one of them. She used to come and see me.’
‘That was nice of her,’ said Emilia encouragingly.
‘Well, no, it wasn’t.’ Mrs Latimer pulled a face. ‘In all my life I’d never met anyone like her, and a good thing, too. She wanted to make me squirm. She asked me how I was feeling, and pretended to be friendly, but really she came to tell me I wasn’t one of her sort. “You were a lot more comfortable in your last house, I’m sure,” she said to me. Well, it was true, but I wasn’t going to tell her so. “It’s so difficult to move out of ones own sphere in life”, she said. “I expect you don’t know what to do with yourself. It must be so difficult if you don’t play the piano, or paint, or sketch. You must wish you were still scrubbing floors”.’
‘The cheek!’ exclaimed Emilia.
Mrs Latimer nodded.
‘Well of course you’re right, dear, but I was feeling so low I let her get away with it.’
‘She sounds dreadful,’ said Emilia in disgust.
‘That’s about the size of it,’ Mrs Latimer agreed. ‘She used to tell me about her Evelyn - how beautiful she was, how clever, how all the men were wild for her - then ask about my own girls and saying, “How quaint,” when I told her how they were doing, or something even worse. I told her how happy Vicky was, always singing around the house, and do you know what she said? “I had a maid who used to do that. Of course, I trained her out of it in the end”.’
‘What a monster!’ said Emilia, torn between outrage and laughter.
Mrs Latimer chuckled, then shook her head. ‘I shouldn’t have let her get under my skin. It’s made me … ’
Emilia looked at her enquiringly.
‘Well, It’s made me do something I shouldn’t have,’ said Mrs Latimer, looking sheepish.
‘I don’t believe you could ever do anything you shouldn’t,’ said Emilia reassuringly. She had warmed to Mrs Latimer, and was enjoying their conversation.
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