Undeterred, Joe helped her to sit up. ‘At least try a little, or you’ll never get better. Look, I’ll soften the bread in the water, will that help?’
The stale water made the bread taste even more foul, and what sustenance could there be in dry bread and water? But she didn’t say as much, and dutifully sucked on it. It wasn’t Joe’s fault there was no decent food. The poor boy was doing his best. The water did help clear her throat and she made a huge effort to speak. ‘Help me out of bed,’ she croaked. ‘If I could smell the sea, catch a glimpse of a blue sky, I might feel better.’
Joe was at once all concern. ‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea.’ There was little breathing space below deck, although more than on the outward journey. On the crossing out, with over eight hundred passengers packed into the hold like cattle, finding your way through the crush to take a walk on deck had been impossible. There was equally little hope of breathing clean air below, particularly in rough weather when the hatches were down.
‘I have to do something. I feel like I’m fading away down here, the stench alone is enough to make me nauseous.’
Joe slipped an arm under her and lifted her from the bunk, then half carried Rose towards the small space in the centre of the steerage area where they could look up at the sky, cloudy today, with only a few patches of blue in sight. ‘Wrap your shawl about you, there’s a stiff breeze. We don’t want this nasty dose of flu turning into pneumonia.’
With great care and patience he walked her slowly to and fro, back and forth in the narrow space. Others were doing the same, anything for a little fresh air and exercise. But after a few turns, Rose’s legs began to wobble.
‘Let me sit down for a minute, I’ve come over all queer again.’ Almost at once her knees gave way and she sank to the floor.
‘Hey, you down there. You, boy, the one helping that poor girl, can you hear me?’
Rose looked up into the face of an angel. Not one dressed in white with wings and a halo, but a young woman hanging over the rail above. She appeared to be waving a pink parasol at them, no doubt its more usual purpose that of protecting her pale, translucent skin from the sun. Her gown was blue, brighter than the sky, with matching ribbons blowing from the tiny hat perched on a head of light-brown hair. ‘Are you all right, child? You don’t look at all well.’
Joe answered for her, since Rose could not have found voice at that precise moment. ‘Course she isn’t well. How can she be well when she’s suffering from the influenza, not to mention being half starved.’
‘Good heavens, are you saying she’s hungry? Why is she? Isn’t there enough food on board? Don’t they feed you properly down there?’
‘Not that I’ve noticed.’
‘Then bring her up here at once.’
‘Sorry, ma’am, we’re not allowed on your part of the deck.’
‘Then you must help her up the stairs and I’ll fetch her some food. Go on, don’t just stand there gawping.’
Joe did as he was told. Rose protested that she couldn’t possibly climb the stairs, that her legs were too shaky, her head pounded, in fact her entire body was wracked with pain. But Joe gently bullied her up the wooden steps, supporting her in his arms, knowing this might be her last chance of survival. She’d die for sure, if something wasn’t done to save her soon.
By the time they reached the top, Rose was utterly exhausted. She managed no more than a couple of steps across the slippy boards towards the lady in the bright-blue dress, before collapsing. Her last sight before darkness closed in was the pink parasol bowling along the deck in the wind.
Rose had little recollection of the days following but was afterwards told that her fever broke on the third day. Only then did she begin to make a slow and steady recovery, one that would have been impossible had she not been rescued by a guardian angel, from what felt very like purgatory into this beautifully appointed first-class cabin.
She was fed hot beef tea and chicken broth, which slipped deliciously down her sore throat without the least difficulty. Day by day, Rose could actually feel the strength flowing back into her limbs. And she hadn’t coughed for twenty-four hours or more.
‘You’ve been so kind,’ she said on the fifth day when she was at last allowed out of bed. Rose was sitting on deck in a steamer chair with her feet up and her knees covered by a soft rug, just as if she were one of the toffs instead of a reject from Ellis Island. It was hard to get her head round this sudden change in her circumstances. ‘I really don’t know how to thank you,’ she shyly offered.
‘Don’t be silly, it was the least I could do. I couldn’t possibly leave you to starve, poor lamb. I’ve spoken quite sharply to the captain about the conditions in steerage, and am optimistic that improvements will be made. I insisted on taking a look myself and it really was quite atrocious.’
‘Oh, ma’am, that was ever so brave of you.’
‘Fiddlesticks! Now drink your tea while it is hot, Rose, and we can enjoy a nice chat. Your friend Joe told me your name. I hope you don’t mind my informality in using it?’
‘Course not, it’s me name, isn’t it?’
‘Would you believe that I too bear that name, or one very similar? Mine is Rosalind. Isn’t that fun?’
Rose smiled. ‘Yours is much prettier than mine.’ And posher, she thought. Then she was staring more closely at her companion, taking her in properly for the first time, almost forgetting to sip her tea. The young woman laughed.
‘Ah, you’ve noticed. As you see, I am to produce any time soon. My baby is due in three weeks or so. I expect you are too young to have any children. How old are you, Rose? Seventeen? Eighteen?’
‘Just turned twenty, s’matter of fact. What were you thinking of, ma’am? You shouldn’t be sailing on a ship in your condition.’
A shadow darkened the other woman’s face. ‘I dare say you’re right, but I was anxious to get away, and wasn’t able to leave sooner as I had certain matters to attend to: an apartment and various possessions to dispose of in New York for one thing. It was all rather sad as I’d lived there for almost a decade. And then it takes such a long time to receive a reply to one’s correspondence, does it not?’ She gave a determined little smile, but her sadness took the shine from it. ‘You see, my husband died of consumption some months ago.’
‘Oh, ma’am.’ Rose was overwhelmed with sorrow, recognising only too well the pain in the other woman’s face. ‘That is so sad, so tragic.’
‘Robert never even knew that I was pregnant. He would have been so thrilled. We’d been trying for a child for quite a few years, you see.’ She fell silent for a long moment while she struggled to regain control of her emotions. ‘However, on the bright side, when I wrote to inform his father of his son’s demise, he invited me to his home in Cornwall. The pair hadn’t spoken in years, having suffered an estrangement over some family trouble. I don’t think Robert approved of his new stepmother, for whatever reason.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘I dare say it is difficult to see one’s mother replaced. Now I’m going to meet my father-in-law for the first time. I’ve never even been to England, having been brought up in Canada, admittedly of British parents, so it will all be new to me. I’m looking forward to seeing the old country at last, having heard so much about it from them. And at least my child will have a grandfather, poor mite. Family is so important, do you not think? Oh, but I am forgetting, what of your own family, Rose? What happened to them? Are they still below in steerage?’
Rose shook her head, then it all came pouring out. Her father’s death in the war, the money from Aunt Cassie which had brought a rebirth of hope to them all, the excitement of the journey out to America, and its disastrous end, so far as Rose was concerned. Rosalind listened without interrupting once, and when her tale was told and Rose was wiping the tears from her eyes with the flat of her hands, she took hold of them to give them a warm squeeze.
‘Then we are both alone in the world. You realise this was meant for us to meet like this. This is what t
hey mean by fate. I wonder, therefore, if you are not in too much of a hurry to return to your friend below, loyal and devoted as he obviously is, whether you would be willing to stay on as my maid? I am so very clumsy and easily tired these days, and my own maid refused absolutely to sail with me. The minute she felt the ship move beneath her, she fled, poor girl. So I am bereft of assistance.’
Rose’s heart leapt at the prospect of not having to return to steerage, and of being offered a job. It felt very like salvation, with a kernel of new hope that her future might not be so bleak after all. Although she did feel a slight prick of disloyalty towards poor Joe. Still, Miss Rosalind had said she’d insisted on improvements in steerage, so maybe things were better for him now.
‘Ooh, ma’am, I’d be honoured.’
‘Excellent! We have both suffered loss. Now we can be companions for each other. When my child is born, you shall help me to care for him or her. You will be safe now, Rose, as I know I shall be safe with you. And you must call me Rosalind, not ma’am or madam. Our friendship, even our shared name, is a gift from God.’ And smiling sweetly, she kissed Rose on each cheek. ‘We shall neither of us be lonely any longer. I certainly won’t, not now that I have you for a friend.’ Two days later Rosalind went into labour.
It was long and difficult, not helped by a storm at sea with the ship pitching and tossing like a cork in a bath, with huge waves rolling across the decks and running into the cabins soaking everything and everyone in its wake. The mother-to-be was exhausted, both from the toils of her labour and the violent seasickness she suffered, her cries lost in the roar of the wind. Rose constantly wiped her face with a cool damp cloth, clung to her hands when the pains threatened to overwhelm her, offering what she could by way of comfort and solace, for all it felt like a futile exercise. The doctor called in regularly to check on her progress, but could never stay long as he had many other passengers suffering from broken limbs, and the most dreadful mal de mer.
Fortunately he was present when the baby finally decided to make his appearance, and was able to deliver Rosalind a fine son.
‘He’s perfect, absolutely perfect.’ She wept with joy, as did Rose.
The ship’s doctor checked him over and declared the child healthy. The mother, however, was not faring quite so well. ‘You must take particular care of her,’ he instructed Rose. ‘She’s slightly feverish, and this storm doesn’t help one bit,’ he added, clinging fast to the rails at the edge of the bed.
‘Can’t you give her something to stop the bleeding?’
‘All new mothers bleed,’ he said, contempt in his tone and in the scathing glance he cast over her rumpled figure. He couldn’t for the life of him imagine why such a refined lady would drag this waif out of steerage to tend her.
‘Not this much. My mam never did, although she lost a couple of babies after me.’ Rose wanted him to know she was not as ignorant in these matters as he might think.
‘Your mother was of a different breed entirely,’ he scornfully remarked. ‘Now, I do have other patients to attend to, if you please. Keep the patient warm and dry, the baby too. Even you can manage that, I’m sure.’
Rose guarded her tongue and agreed that she probably could.
‘Take no notice of him,’ Rosalind said kindly, after he’d gone. ‘A snob of the first quarter, obviously. Oh, but isn’t my darling son adorable? I shall name him Robert, after his father. You’ll find a nightgown and shawl for him in my luggage, Rose.’
Rose made sure the baby was warmly swaddled, folding a napkin around his little bottom. Then she half emptied one of her new mistress’s many small trunks, and tucked him safely inside on top of a bed of clothes. She left the lid open, of course, so that it served as a crib, lodged securely between two chairs, all dry and warm.
Keeping his mother in a similar condition proved to be almost impossible. The storm was beginning to calm down a little by this time, but everything in the cabin, for all it was spacious, with the finest linen and accoutrements, was soaked. Waves washed in under the door, and water seeped through the cracks around the porthole, running down the wall. Nothing seemed to be quite as waterproof as it should be. She was also running out of fresh bedding and towels, as the bleeding continued unabated. Rose had tried kneading her stomach, as she’d seen the midwife do with her mam, but was obliged to stop when the poor lady complained it hurt too much, and began retching. As if giving birth were not enough, she was still suffering from the mal de mer like the rest of the passengers.
Rose had reached the point of despair when, quite out of the blue, Joe stuck his head around the door. ‘Ah, there you are. Found you at last!’
‘How did you get up here?’ Rose cried, not sure whether to scold him for his recklessness at venturing into first class, or give him a big hug. But she felt in sore need of a friend right now.
‘I took a chance to sneak up and see how you were getting on. I heard you’d recovered but as I hadn’t seen you in an age, and in view of the storm, I wanted to be sure you were all right.’
Rose rolled her eyes. ‘Stop fretting over me. It’s poor Miss Rosalind you should feel sorry for. The doctor’s useless, everything is soaked, she’s been dreadfully seasick and her labour dragged on so long she’s exhausted and a bit feverish. I’m really frightened for her, Joe.’
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ he said, and instantly disappeared to return minutes later with two dry blankets, a pile of clean sheets and several fresh towels.
‘Oh, bless you. Where did you find those?’
‘Ask no questions and I’ll tell no lies,’ Joe said with a huge wink.
Rose was mortified. ‘You mean you stole them?’
‘I borrowed them. Do you want to keep her warm, or not?’
Biting her lip Rose quickly changed the sheets, then tucking the blankets around her mistress, told herself that surely Miss Rosalind’s need was greater. When she was done, she turned to Joe, a new briskness in her tone. ‘Since you’re here, you might as well make yourself useful. Keep an eye on her, and the baby, while I go and fetch her a cup of hot soup. She needs her strength keeping up, but you aren’t allowed in the dining room. You shouldn’t be in here either, by rights, but if you keep your head down, no one will see you. I’ll be back in ten minutes at most.’
It took far longer. Deciding against venturing into the first-class dining room, Rose went instead to the kitchen, or galley as they called it on board ship, where she became engaged in an argument with the ship’s cook in her efforts to convince him that she was indeed Miss Rosalind’s maid. Admittedly, her appearance did not help, her clothes being rumpled and threadbare, but this didn’t seem the moment to be discussing a proper uniform with her new employer. Having finally convinced the fellow of her identity by threatening him with the ship’s doctor, she carried the soup back to the cabin, taking great care not to spill a precious drop.
‘Thanks for staying. How is she now?’
‘Asleep, and I’d say growing weaker by the minute,’ Joe said, looking concerned. ‘The baby’s a grand little chap.’
‘You’d best get back, before anyone catches you up here.’
Gathering her small face between his broad hands, he kissed her full on the lips.
‘Here, what do you think you’re doing?’ Outraged, Rose cuffed him away, although not too firmly. He was still her very good friend, after all, always there when she needed him, as he’d proved to her just now. ‘Don’t you take no liberties with me, Joe Colbert.’
‘When I look into those chocolate-brown eyes of yours, Rosie, I can’t seem to help meself. I could eat you all up, I could really.’
‘Get away with you, before I report you for harassment, not to mention trespassing into first class.’
Chuckling softly and totally unmoved by her threats, he cheekily kissed her again, then fled.
‘Is he your beau, Rose?’ asked the voice from the bed.
‘No, he’s not! He’s a cheeky tyke, that’s what he is.’
&nb
sp; Rosalind smiled, not believing her outraged protest, and managed about half the soup, insisting Rose finish the rest herself. But when she’d heard the trouble her new maid had suffered in securing it, she realised something had to be done.
‘Of course you need better clothes. There must be something suitable amongst my luggage, just help yourself. Why didn’t I think of that?’
‘You’ve had more important matters on your mind,’ scolded Rose, handing over the baby to be fed as he started to stir and whimper.
‘He’s a miracle baby, don’t you think?’ Rosalind asked, her eyes soft with love as she put him to her breast.
‘He’s beautiful,’ Rose agreed, then sat on the edge of the bed to watch entranced as he fastened his tiny mouth around Rosalind’s nipple and eagerly began to suckle. ‘Look at the strength of that, and him no more than a few hours old.’
‘I’d rather given up hope of having a baby, we’d tried for so long.’ There were tears in her eyes as Rosalind went on. ‘I’m almost thirty now, quite old, I suppose, for a first-time mother. Robert, my husband, was forty-six, considerably older than me although far too young to die.’ She gave Rose a bleak look. ‘What I fear most is this little chap becoming an orphan.’
‘Oh, don’t say such a thing. Don’t even think it,’ Rose protested, appalled.
‘But I must, I’m his mother. Now that he’s here, I have to make provision.’ She smiled down upon him, letting his tiny hand curl about her little finger. ‘There’s something I haven’t told you about who my son might one day be. Little Robbie here is no less than the grandson of a baronet.’
‘Oh, my giddy aunt.’ Rose was shocked, gazing at the baby in wonder. ‘You mean he’ll have a title, and a coronet or something?’
Rosalind laughed. ‘Something of the sort, yes, so you see how important it is that were anything to happen to me, he needs to be taken to my husband’s family. Will you do that for me, Rose? Will you care for him and take him to England and his grandfather? I know it’s a lot to ask but there is no one else.’
My Lady Deceiver Page 4
