Behind a Lady's Smile

by Jane Goodger

  Genny slumped back into her seat as soon as Mr. Tish left the apartment. “I’m exhausted,” she said to no one in particular.

  Madeline came back into the room, beaming a smile. “My goodness, Genny, you were wonderful. So charming. So amusing. Where did you get such talent? You would be wonderful on the stage, my dear, just wonderful.”

  “Genny has a way about her, that’s for sure,” Mitch said, but it didn’t sound like a compliment. “She can wrap a man around her little finger without his even knowing it.”

  Madeline laughed. “I’ve never seen a man fall in love so quickly as Mr. Tish. You shall do very well in England,” she said. “Who knew you had that in you? It was like watching a performance.”

  Madeline was looking at her as if she’d never seen her before. And Mitch? He was frowning. “I do have a talent for putting people at ease,” Genny said, and even she knew it was false modesty. She had a talent for making men do what she wanted. Every man with one glaring exception. As soon as she had that thought, she felt bad. Mitch was right. She knew he was right, but it still stung, the way he’d walked away from her when all she’d wanted was to dance.

  Liar. She’d wanted a kiss. She’d wanted him to hold her, to feel his large, warm body wrap around her. Just the thought made her flush.

  “How’d I do?” Tillie asked, hands on her hips.

  Genny chuckled. “Oh, don’t be like that, Tillie. It’s a lot easier to have a man go all spoony on you if you’re wearing a dress like this and have such pretty hair, thanks to your extraordinary talents.”

  Tillie seemed appeased. “You do have a way about you,” she said, then laughed. “Did you see his face when you were talking about the train robbery? I thought he was going to drop down on his knees and propose, right then and there.”

  Genny laughed, too, but it was a forced laugh. She’d made light of the robbery when she was talking to Mr. Tish, but it had been terrifying. And wonderful. It had been the first time Mitch had truly kissed her.

  “My adventure continues tomorrow,” Genny said. “Who knows? Perhaps the ship will be boarded by pirates. Or it will go down in a terrible storm and we’ll be stranded on an island with nothing to eat but clams.”

  “Oh, don’t talk about shipwrecks, Genny, please.” Tillie looked genuinely frightened. “I’m scared to death as it is.”

  Genny looked surprised. “You are? Then why did you agree to come?”

  “I have one hundred reasons,” she said with an impish grin.

  Mitch stood, and Genny was struck, as she often was, by how much room the man took up in even a large space. “You’re all packed?”

  He was staring at her and for some reason she still couldn’t meet his eyes. Perhaps it was because the memory of throwing herself at him was still so raw. “Yes. Tillie has been a great help.”

  “I learned a lot about packing dresses in the wardrobe department,” Tillie said, looking pleased with the compliment.

  “Weather looks calm. Should stay that way this time of year. Too early for hurricanes and the like.” Genny gave Mitch a curious look. He almost sounded . . . nervous.

  “Have you never been on a ship, Mitch?”

  “Unless you count a canoe as a ship, then no.”

  He was nervous, she could tell. For some reason, that made him even more endearing. “I’ve never been on a ship either,” Genny said. “It’ll be grand, you’ll see.”

  “Grand for us up in first class,” Tillie said, her voice shaking just slightly. “For poor Mr. Campbell, perhaps not so grand.”

  The RMS Oceanic was the pride of the White Star Line, a four hundred twenty-foot iron ship that carried more than one thousand passengers and was powered by both sail and steam engine. One great smoke stack, painted a bright orange, dominated the deck, which was crisscrossed with ropes and cables, reminding Genny of a cat’s cradle. Her hull was black, the structures built on the deck a pristine white that almost hurt the eyes in the bright morning sun. An American flag, snapping in a stiff breeze on the most forward mast, reminded Genny that she would likely never set foot on American soil again.

  Everything about the ship was intimidating—its size, its hulking black hull, even the uniformed crew standing at attention as the passengers boarded. She had never seen anything so impressive in her entire life. She looked at the ship doubtfully, wondering how anything so large could possibly stay afloat.

  “It’s really big,” Tillie said, looking up at the ship, which seemed to stretch on forever. “And those masts don’t look like they could carry much sail.”

  “I suppose they’re only used when the engine fails,” Genny said doubtfully.

  “The engines fail?” Tillie’s voice had taken on a high-pitched tone Genny had never heard before. Without her wig and wearing her plain maid’s dress, Tillie looked completely different, and Genny found she liked the looks of this girl far better. She had a wholesome, fresh quality now that her face was free of makeup. But Tillie was clearly out of sorts. It was almost as if the blonde wig and flashy clothing she’d worn after her initial appearance had given her more confidence. No one would doubt her role as a lady’s maid as they stood waiting for Mitch to return from wherever he’d disappeared to. He’d looked decidedly pale when they’d arrived at the port and gotten their first look at the Oceanic. Genny looked around her, but no one seemed at all concerned about the ship’s seaworthiness. Indeed, there was a festive air to the passengers, who were already standing at the rail waving good-bye to family or friends.

  Not twenty feet from the two women, an older couple stood waving and smiling at someone on the ship even as tears streamed down their faces. Genny nudged Tillie and nodded to the couple, who looked about as heartbroken as a pair of people could.

  “It must be awful to say good-bye to someone, knowing you’ll never see them again. I’ve a feeling that’s what’s happening there,” Tillie said softly so the couple wouldn’t overhear.

  Genny’s heart squeezed painfully in her chest. The couple was a stark reminder of everything she was leaving behind. Her parents were gone, but America was home. Everyone she knew was here. She wondered how her mother had gotten the courage to leave behind England and her parents all those years ago. It must have broken her heart, though she had no memories of her mother being sad.

  Because her mother had been in love; she’d had Genny’s father.

  “We might as well board,” Mitch said, coming up behind them, his eyes on the ship. “I’ve been talking to some of the crew. The Oceanic is the safest ship on the seas and built to luxuriously accommodate its passengers. We’ll be fine. And the saloon staterooms are first rate.”

  Genny studied his face and decided he seemed more relaxed than he had been before he’d spoken to the crew. The crowd near the boarding plank was thinning out, and it was clearly time for them to go on board. Just as they were about to walk up the gangway, a shout from behind caused them all to turn around. Madeline, who had tearfully told her just that morning that she couldn’t bear to bid them farewell at the ship, was hastening toward them, already dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.

  She threw herself into Mitch’s arms, sobbing against his chest, while Mitch, looking more bemused than embarrassed, hugged her closely.

  “I’ll be back in less than a month, Mother,” he said, chuckling.

  Madeline lifted her head, as if trying to determine whether he was speaking the truth. Ships did sink; not one year ago the Oceanic’s sister ship, the Atlantic, had collided with another ship, killing sixteen souls on board. She nodded, turned, and her face crumpled again as she stumbled toward Genny to embrace her.

  “You’re almost like a daughter to me,” she said dramatically. “And I’ll never see you again.” This last was squeaked out, as if she could hardly get the words past a throat clogged with tears.

  “She’ll write, Mother. Now get your hug over with Tillie. We have to board before they pull up the gangway.”

  Madeline sniffed and gave Tillie a hug
. “I’ll see that you have a place in the cast when I get that part,” she said. “Bon voyage.” Then, as only Madeline could, she turned and walked stoically away. Genny almost wanted to applaud, even though she knew the woman’s feelings were sincere.

  Mitch let out a gusty sigh. “Every time I see my mother, I’m reminded why I left home when I was seventeen,” he said, but he was smiling fondly at his mother’s departing back. “Let’s get on board, ladies. You all have your tickets?”

  They both produced them and headed toward the porter, who stood impatiently waiting for the last passengers.

  Once on board, they headed to the deck to look out and wave, even though they were all fairly certain Madeline was no longer at the pier to wave back. When the dockworkers pulled in the bridge connecting the pier to the ship, Genny felt a sense of finality. The only way to go back would be to jump, and that was hardly an option. A few minutes later, a gunshot rang out, the ship gave a shudder as the screws began to turn, then slowly it began moving away from the pier.

  “This is it,” Tillie said as she clutched the railing. The ship moved slowly, but eventually, the pier was out of sight and the passengers began to move about the deck, some to their staterooms, others to sit on deck chairs to watch the land slowly move past.

  “Shall we go see our rooms?” Genny asked. It had been decided, mostly at Madeline’s urging, that Genny should stay in first class accommodations “just in case someone on board should later recognize you. It wouldn’t do for the granddaughter of a duke to be seen in steerage.”

  And so, she and Tillie headed to their stateroom while Mitch, taking out his watch to check the time, departed to the men’s section of steerage at the bow of the ship, where the sea was felt more readily. They agreed to meet again on deck after supper.

  “This certainly is first class,” Tillie said, glancing around the luxurious room. “Look, they’ve already delivered our baggage.” Indeed, Genny’s steamer trunks and Tillie’s two smaller carpetbags were stacked neatly on the floor.

  The room was small but well appointed, with carved wood paneling, and a soft carpet beneath their feet. Tillie’s quarters, just off the main room with its bed and small sitting area, was tiny, holding only a narrow bed and small side table.

  “Guess I know whose room this is,” Tillie said with remarkable cheerfulness, given her tiny room didn’t even have a porthole. She sat on the bed, giving it a little bounce and grinned up at Genny. “I can’t believe I’m on a ship headed for England.”

  “I can’t believe it either,” Genny said, with slightly less enthusiasm.

  Tillie lay back with exuberance on her bed. “I’m not nearly as nervous as I was, and these are posh accommodations. Did you see the sink? Hot and cold running water! I don’t even have that in my flat. Do you know I’ve never even been out of New York? Now I’m sailing to England. Maybe I can see the queen. You’re probably going to meet her.”

  It did seem likely from what she’d learned about dukes and duchesses. She wished she felt half the enthusiasm that Tillie seemed to grab from thin air. Genny knew she’d be acting far more eager if she weren’t feeling quite so awful about saying good-bye to Mitch. She was in love for the first time in her life with a man she would say good-bye to in just a handful of days. A man, she reminded herself cruelly, who likely hadn’t given their good-bye a second thought.

  “Have you ever been in love?” she asked Tillie, who took the rather random question without pause.

  “No. Well, I thought I was, but no.”

  “What happened?”

  “Remember I was telling out about mashers? How they’ll kiss you and make you feel like you’re the center of the world, and the next thing you know, you see them walking about with another girl on their arm, looking at her the same way the bounder looked at you?”

  Genny nodded.

  “I was a lot younger then. Maybe eighteen. And he was the first boy who ever kissed me. I was stupid and naïve and thought when a boy kissed you, it meant he loved you. And I thought I loved him right back. Maybe I did,” she said with a shrug. “But I’m not so stupid and naïve anymore. I know a kiss don’t mean a thing to a man.”

  Tillie sat up and studied Genny for a long moment. “You ever been in love? With that gent who kissed you?”

  Genny flushed, but shook her head. “No. I haven’t really had that much opportunity to be with men, so I was just wondering. I’m going to be meeting a lot of men in England and I suppose I just want to be prepared.”

  Tillie nodded, accepting Genny’s lie without argument, then said, “I thought maybe you liked Mitch a bit.”

  Genny schooled her features as best she could. “I do like Mitch and I’m very grateful for all his help. But, goodness, I don’t think about him that way. He’s a friend.”

  “Really?” Tillie asked, raising one eyebrow. “He’s awfully good looking.”

  “I suppose some would find him so.”

  Tillie laughed. “Anyone with eyes, you mean.”

  Genny allowed herself a laugh, but her heart hurt more than she could ever admit. She felt a wash of humiliation and embarrassment, thinking about how she’d sought Mitch out and asked him to dance, all the while hoping he’d kiss her again.

  How stupid of her to read more into his kisses than was there. He’d only kissed her on the train and again outside the restaurant, just that. He’d teased her about kissing her, acted as if he wanted to kiss her, but when she’d given him the chance, he’d reminded her he needed to do the right thing.

  Now she understood. He’d been trying to protect her, trying to let her know that nothing could ever come of their kissing. He was no doubt mortified by her awkward attempt to seduce him. No wonder he’d been so distant over the past few days—he was trying to avoid her. When he’d rebuffed her, she’d been hurt and angry, but now all she felt was a hot shame, remembering how he’d gently pushed her away. Now that she thought of it, she was certain that had been pity in his eyes, not the regret she’d originally thought she’d seen.

  Oh, God.

  Despite everything, she knew she was still in love with him, knew if he tried to kiss her, she’d let him.

  Two days into their trip, Genny was still looking at land on the port side, wondering if they were ever going to start heading toward England. She and Tillie were walking on the promenade deck, enjoying a sunny afternoon, when she spied Captain Spencer leaning on the railing and surveying the passengers. He was an imposing man, tall and with a back so straight it looked as if a plank was tied to his spine. His salt-and-pepper beard, thick and wind resistant, dropped to the top of his chest. He wore a uniform of dark blue with insignia that marked him as a man of command—though given his stern countenance, it was doubtful he’d ever be taken as anything but the captain.

  Genny held up her hand, shielding her eyes from the sun, and called up to him, ignoring Tillie’s urgent shushing next to her.

  “Hello, Captain.”

  He looked down as if surprised to be addressed. “Yes, miss?”

  “May I have a word with you?”

  Tillie let out a low groan, but Genny walked toward a set of stairs that led up to where the captain stood, now looking faintly put out that a passenger was venturing toward the wheelhouse.

  “You stay here, Tillie, if you’d like, but I’m going to talk to the captain.”

  Tillie let out another small sound of protest, but followed Genny as she climbed the metal stairs, her shoes sounding like dull bells against the steps.

  “Miss, I don’t let passengers on the bridge,” the captain said, in what Genny suspected was his attempt at being polite. But with a voice as subtle as a foghorn, it rather sounded as if he were shouting at her.

  “Of course you don’t,” Genny said, smiling. “You’ve more important things to do than talk about navigation to your passengers.”

  A young sailor stepped out of the wheelhouse. “Sir?” That one word spoke volumes, such as “should I escort the ladies down to the p
romenade deck or throw them overboard?”

  “Thank you, sir,” Genny said to the young officer. “But I think Captain Spencer can answer my questions adequately.”

  Five minutes later, Genny was in the wheelhouse, holding the wheel as Captain Spencer explained why the ship followed the shore for so long before heading out to the open ocean. Genny was completely oblivious to the sensation she was creating until after she bade the Captain a good day and was walking down the stairs with Tillie. She was stepping down from the stairs onto the promenade deck when Tillie, just in front of her, turned and with hands on hips said, “How do you do that?”

  “What?”

  “How do you manage to charm every person you meet into doing anything you want? I was there. I watched it happen, and I still don’t know what you did. One of the officers told me that no one had ever touched the wheel of Captain Spencer’s ship without years of training, and there you were, your hands on the wheel, making the old curmudgeon laugh. You didn’t only make him smile, which apparently they’ve never seen him do, he actually laughed.”

  Genny shrugged. “I have no idea what you mean.”

  “While you were talking to the captain, I was talking to the crew. No one has ever, ever, been invited into the wheel house, never mind put their hands on his wheel, and certainly not a woman.” Tillie studied her a moment. “You are pretty, but I’m sure the captain’s seen plenty of pretty women in his day.” Tillie looked at her, exasperated and confused. “How do you do it?”

  “I’m still not certain what you mean. I suppose I was genuinely interested in what he had to say.”

  Tillie grinned. “That’s the secret. Pretend everything a man says is fascinating.”

  “But I wasn’t pretending,” Genny protested. “I was interested. Imagine, setting out into a vast ocean with no road, no paths, just water and the sun and stars. It’s amazing to me these ships can navigate so accurately.”