Andrea dressed in the out of date, poorly fitting black widow weeds. She hadn’t noticed before the fine quality of silk, but the loose fit and high empire waist of the dress made it look like the twenty-year-old castoff it was.
With half the money from her father’s strongbox in her pocket, Andrea left the Red Hen and made her way to the pier. It was early in the morning and since she saw few sailors, she suspected most must have still been sleeping off their indulgences of the night before. The few who were out, treated her mourning garb with due reverence. With a sigh of relief, she congratulated herself on her forethought to bring the dress.
Unfortunately, her luck seemed to vanish when she began trying to book passage on a ship. Everywhere she went, the Fates seemed to be against her. Repeatedly, the clerks told her that either no cabin was available, or their line did not go to New York. The ships that would soon sail only had room left in steerage. The ships with cabins available were not in dock yet and were not expected to sail for at least a fortnight. She suspected several of the clerks lied to her because they did not want a young woman aboard without a proper chaperone.
As an unescorted female, Andrea dared not book passage in steerage. An unknown number of people would share the open area—mostly men and a few wives and children. The bunks were no doubt crawling with vermin. A blanket would be her only privacy. By the end of the voyage, the putrid stale air of the hold would be a breeding ground for all manner of disease. No, she would not book steerage.
At the seventh passenger ship office, Andrea decided she would claim she wanted to buy passage for her brother so he could have some time alone to come to grips with their mother’s death. Thinking that sounded convincing, she stepped into the small office of the H & O Passenger Line out of New York. As she approached the counter, the door opened behind her and a young boy ran in shouting, “She’s here! She’s here!”
Andrea’s heart went into her throat thinking she had been found out.
“Are you sure?” the man behind the counter asked, excitement in his voice. “Are you sure it’s The Lady Fair?”
“Come see for yourself,” the boy said, and turned and left the building.
The man automatically took a stride towards the door, but realizing that Andrea was standing before him, he stopped, embarrassment flooding his features. “I beg your pardon, madam. It’s not every day a small line like ours gets a new ship, and a steamship at that.”
“That is exciting,” she said genuinely interested as she remembered her father’s enthusiasm with each of his new ships. “I wouldn’t dream of keeping you from it. My business can be postponed until you have seen your new ship.”
“I wouldn’t hear of making you wait. I’m sure we can conclude our business long before the ship is ready to disembark her passengers.”
Before Andrea could state her business, a second clerk came in. “Fancy what I just saw docking,” the man said jovially, walking around the counter. “The Lady Fair! Imagine that, nearly a week earlier than scheduled. Oh, and she’s a real beauty. I’m surprised Sebastian James didn’t hear of her as she passed the Surrey Docks and isn’t already here. Do you think we should send messengers to his office and home to tell him his future son-in-law has just arrived?”
Andrea was immediately filled with panic, which was quickly replaced by anger. Everyone knew! And they still hadn’t informed her! Good heaven, when were they going to tell her? When she walked down the aisle or perhaps when she stood at the altar? Lord, even strangers knew. Was it the talk of the docks? Did half of London know?
“If he’s not here in ten minutes, send a messenger over to the Surrey Docks. If he’s not there, have the man go to his house,” the first clerk said over the sound of her heart beating in her ears. “I’m sorry, madam. What can I do for you?”
Andrea hesitated as she fought the urge to run from there. “I wanted to know when your next ship leaves for New York,” she said curtly.
“The Lady Fair will be leaving in a fortnight come Friday.”
“Are there still cabins available? I don’t want my brother in steerage with countless other people.”
“Only a few of the staterooms are still unoccupied.”
“Private cabins?”
“Only two or three. Would you like to book one?”
What Andrea really wanted was to leave. Knowing her father could show up at any moment, she was barely aware of their exchange. “I-I think I’ll wait. I hoped to get him on an earlier ship. If I can’t find another ship, I’ll be back.”
With a nod to the clerk, Andrea walked hurriedly out the door. Be it curiosity or pure daring, Andrea could not help herself as she walked down the quay to where the large side-wheel steamship maneuvered in the final stages of docking. The sailors threw heavy ropes ashore to the stevedores to moor the ship. She was amazed by its size and wondered how closely it passed under bridges that spanned the Thames. The superstructure was double decked, with both smoke stacks and masts, but all the sail were furled on the yardarms. It looked so top-heavy, she wondered if it was safe. A large number of passengers milled on the deck impeding the sailors’ efforts to do their jobs. Most were standing at the railing getting their first view of London; a few had valises at their sides, ready to disembark the moment the gangplank was placed.
Andrea knew exactly who she was looking for when she scanned the crowd and was surprised when she spotted his auburn locks in the pilothouse with the captain and a bearded dark-haired man. She could tell even at that distance, he had changed considerably since she had seen him five years before. He no longer seemed the awkward boy he had been and had matured into adulthood. Curiosity made her want to stay to get a better look at the man to whom she was betrothed, but common sense made her leave. She just couldn’t stay there when she knew her father could arrive at any moment.
Andrea was nearly a block away from the pier when the high voice of a young paper hawker rose over the noise of the crowded street. “Shipping heiress flies the coop! Sebastian James offers five thousand pound reward for her safe return!”
Hearing his banner call, Andrea nearly stopped dead in her tracks. Great heavens, every man, woman and child in London would be looking for her.
She made her way through the crowd to the boy and bought a paper. “I’ll give you two shillings if you go sell your papers on the docks where that new steamship is unloading its passengers.”
“Two shillings, milady? But I’m supposed to stay on this corner,” the boy said hesitantly, torn between the two shilling windfall and his responsibilities.
“Five shillings, but you have to stay there until all the passengers are off the ship.”
Andrea had never thought she had a cruel streak, but she would sorely like to see the look on Shamus O’Shea’s face when he found out he would not be married her after all. Would his face go pale when he saw her father’s fortune slipping through his fingers? She couldn’t help her animosity towards him. He was the man who took away her dreams of someday being Lady Andrea. He had caused her a year of worry and now she felt forced to leave her home. She only wished she could deliver the news herself.
Remembering the five thousand pound price on her head, Andrea hurried to a market she had passed earlier. She purchased a few things that she had not had the foresight to bring and hurried back to her room at the inn.
~*~
The young clerk who had unknowingly spoken with Andrea James finally got his chance to step out of the H & O’s office to get a glimpse of the new steamship and one of the men he worked for, Miles Huntington. He just could not believe it. It was the first time Miles Huntington had come to England. In the past, his partner/stepfather, Richard O’Shea had always been the one to come. Two years earlier O’Shea’s health had forced him to send his New York manager to make his annual trip to inspect the books.
It wasn’t exactly that Miles Huntington was there that excited the clerk—it was why he was there. The man was betrothed to the daughter of Sebastian James, by
jingles! James had come to the H & O office less than a week before inquiring when The Lady Fair was due, and had told him about the betrothal himself.
John Price smiled to himself. The girl was said to be quite comely, in fact, it was said that The Lady Fair had been named with Andrea James in mind. Beauty and money. What more could anyone hope for in a wife?
John Price was so used to London’s noise that he had heard the little newspaper hawker repeating his banner at least a dozen times before what he had cried registered.
Price placed a coin in the boy’s hand and rushed up the gangplank, dodging trunk-toting passengers with the newspaper clutched in his fist. The first sailor he asked pointed out the bearded man in the pilothouse, and he quickly mounted the companionway.
“Mr. Huntington,” Price gasped, slightly winded, and thrusting the paper towards the tall man. “It’s Miss James.”
“What?” Miles said, not understanding until he glanced down at the banner headline.
“Shamus, what is it?” Miles’s cousin Rory O’Shea asked, seeing his cousin go pale. When Miles didn’t answer, Rory moved closer, and began reading the paper over Miles’s shoulder. “Sweet Mary and Joseph! Why do you think she ran away?”
Miles gave Rory an irritated glance. “Apparently, she didn’t like the idea of marrying me.”
“But both you and Mr. James agreed, if the chit was strongly opposed, the betrothal would be broken. All she had to do was refuse.”
Impatience turned quickly to anger. “Don’t look to me for answers, Rory. I know as little about it as you do.” Miles strode past his redheaded cousin, and the man who gave him the paper.
“Where are you going?”
“To find the man who has the answers,” he replied without turning around.
7
Miles stared at the likeness of Andrea in the newspaper. The woodcut copy had closely reproduced the self-portrait her parents had found in her room after she disappeared. To Miles, that picture, or more accurately, the original, said much more than the note she left. He could not look into that beautiful face without his heart aching. She looked so incredibly sad and lonely. At first glance, her beauty drew his notice. He had never forgotten her large eyes and high soft cheekbones. He had never imagined she could be more beautiful than she had been five years earlier, but he was wrong. As he continued to look at the likeness, he noted the subtle expression she wore. It broke his heart to know he was greatly to blame for that haunting faraway expression.
Christ! The whole thing had been botched from the beginning—not only by him, but also by her parents. So much of it was a misunderstanding. He knew as soon as he read Andrea’s letter, she thought she was to marry his cousin, Rory—an unfortunate mistake but completely understandable since she had been introduced to him as Miles and not the nickname given to him by Richard’s Irish family. Richard never called him anything but Shamus since. It was his way of expressing that he considered him his son, even if he had not fathered Miles.
So much could have been avoided if he had only begun a correspondence with Andrea instead of allowing Richard and Sebastian James to do all the communicating. When Miles realized Sebastian had not told Andrea, he urged him to inform her. If the man had broached the subject with his daughter, all the misunderstandings could have been cleared up.
Now, Miles only wanted Andrea to return home safe and unharmed. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Andrea. He had personally added another five thousand pounds to the reward Sebastian offered. Forcing his eyes from the picture, he read the article that accompanied it. For five days, the story of Andrea’s disappearance was touted on the front page, and this day was no exception. However, today it included the woodcut portrait, a statement saying the betrothal had been called off, and the man involved would soon be returning to his home in America.
Miles had no way of knowing if she was reading the newspapers but he hoped she was. He had not liked the idea of putting her picture in, fearing it would put her in greater danger. As it was, half of London had their eyes peeled for her. And the other half claimed to have seen her. Perhaps, with the picture in the paper, people would know for certain if it was Andrea.
“Shamus, I don’t think you’ve heard a word I’ve said.”
“What, Rory? I’m afraid I wasn’t listening.”
“I said I was thinking about going to Ireland before going back home. It seems like an awfully long journey just to stay two weeks and then go home. I have kin in Ireland I’ve only known through my father’s correspondence whom I’d like to meet. You don’t mind, do you?”
“No, just as long as you don’t tarry in London since she thinks you’re me. It won’t do any good if I leave and you stay. If she catches sight of you after the ship sails, she may assume we’re trying to trick her and might not come out of hiding.”
Miles, as had become his habit in the last few days, scanned the street, his eyes lingering on every blonde until he was sure it was not her.
“I’m sorry, Shamus,” Rory said as they started down the street towards the H & O office.
“Now, don’t get down on yourself, Rory. Just because you made a bad impression on her five years ago, is no reason to blame yourself. She undoubtedly would have felt the same way if she had known that I’m Shamus. The fact that she didn’t like you was only a small portion of that letter her parents showed us.”
“It’s a bit disheartening to think I made that bad of an impression on her.”
“You were eighteen,” Miles said, kindly. “Everyone’s a bit awkward at that age. If she met you for the first time today, I bet her impression would have been entirely different. Look at yourself now compared to the way you were five years ago.”
It was true. Rory had grown up into adulthood. He was three inches taller, the thickness in his waist had disappeared and his chest and shoulders had widened with muscles thanks to the heavy lifting he did at his father’s warehouses. Socially, he had grown up also. Much of the credit belonged to his older cousin. Once Miles had finished at Yale, he and Rory had reestablished their childhood friendship and Miles had insisted that Rory accompany him wherever he went socially.
Rory chuckled. “Poor girl. After an hour of listening to me yap about warehouses, it’s a wonder she didn’t just walk away.”
“Well, if you hadn’t been monopolizing her time, Mrs. Kincaid and her mother would have never sent me to rescue her and I might have never met her.”
“Ah ha! The real reason you asked me to be your best man comes out.”
Miles smiled and nudged Rory with his elbow. “You’ve been my best friend since Richard married my mother and you stood up with me against the Harrowing twins.”
Harold and Harry O’Shea had nearly come to blows with Miles at the wedding reception. Ten-year-old Miles mistakenly thought when his mother married Richard that he automatically became an O’Shea. The older boys, although correct, had relentlessly taunted Miles. Only Rory had taken Miles’s side in the dispute. It was then that Richard and Rory’s father, Chester, decided if Miles couldn’t be an official O’Shea, he could be an honorary one. Chester tipsily slurred, “It’s a shame he’s not one of us. Let’s call him Shamus.” And it had stuck.
They walked another half block in companionable silence before Rory spoke again. “So what now? Do you still want to marry her?”
It was still incredible to Rory that Miles wanted to marry someone with whom he had spent less than fifteen minutes. But in many ways, that was Miles. Just as Miles had unwaveringly been his best friend, he had no doubt that Miles’s feelings for Andrea were just as loyal. It was almost as if Miles had an innate sense about people. Rory had little doubt that if Miles said he was in love with Andrea James, he was. If he married her, he would never regret it. Rory suspected her rejection, even if the person Andrea thought she rejected was Rory, had cut Miles to the quick.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I’m only leaving so she can feel safe enough to go home. I intend to leave a letter for her w
ith her parents. Furthermore, I plan to write to her once I get home.”
“You’re still going to pursue her even after her outright rejection of you?”
“She didn’t reject me, cousin, she rejected you. She will marry me—one way or the other.”
~*~
Andrea felt self-conscious in her new costume but she had little choice in the matter. All of London it seemed was looking for her to fatten their purses, making it all the more imperative, that for her own safety, she leave as soon as possible. The H & O line was the first place she tried since the others she had been to previously either didn’t go to New York or didn’t have any cabins available.
“I’m sorry,” said the same clerk she had spoken with before. “But there are no more private quarters available. We have a bed still open in a stateroom, but you will have to share the room with another gentleman. The only other bunks are in steerage.”
Andrea closed her eyes as she contemplated the possibility of sharing a cabin with a man. If she stayed dressed as a man, the way she was now, she might be able to fool a man for a while, but it would be impossible for any length of time. As soon as he discovered her deceit, her reputation would be ruined.
“Please, sir,” she said, opening her eyes. If she must, she would offer the man a bribe. Behind her, the bell above the door jangled. “I must have a private cabin. I don’t care what it costs. Oust someone, put them in with the other gentleman and tell them there was a mistake.”
“That won’t be necessary,” a voice came from behind her. Andrea turned around to see two men entering. One man was tall, with black hair and a thick beard. The other…. Her heart went into her throat as she recognized the man as her intended groom. Shamus O’Shea. Involuntarily, she backed into the counter thinking that she had been found out, only to have both men ignore her completely and walk around to the other side of the counter. “It seems Mr. O’Shea has decided to salvage his trip by seeking out relatives in Ireland rather than return home right away. He will not need the stateroom reserved for him.”
Miles Before I Sleep Page 6
