‘I shall,’ said Maisie. ‘I have had nothing to eat all day.’
‘That’s the spirit,’ he said, rising.
‘Wait!’ said Maisie. ‘Did you … discover anything last night?’
The inspector shook his head. ‘Apart from that the person we seek is prepared to stop at nothing, I did not. I suspect that any — activity — which took place happened while I was taking care of you.’
‘I’m sorry,’ quavered Maisie.
‘Don’t be,’ he said, walking to the door. ‘I would do the same for any colleague.’ He bowed slightly, and was gone.
Maisie got back into bed. She felt tired all over again. She tried to remember what she had seen of the Harlequin’s face, but it kept changing into the Clown’s.
It seemed moments later when a knock announced Ruth’s arrival. ‘How are you feeling, Miss Frobisher?’ she enquired, looking much more cheerful than she had a few hours ago.
‘Better, Ruth,’ said Maisie. ‘And hungry.’
‘I should think so,’ said Ruth. ‘I have visited your trunk, and here is your blue silk.’
‘Oh,’ said Maisie. ‘Are we dressing up tonight?’
‘You are,’ said Ruth. ‘I had an enquiry from one of the stewards on my way here. Apparently a young man in first class has an interest in you, and asked the steward to find out a little more.’
Maisie felt her cheeks glowing. ‘Did he say who the young man was? What did he want to know?’
‘Of course he didn’t say who the young man was!’ scoffed Ruth. ‘That isn’t how it works. He asked if you were — attached at present. And he said the young man mentioned the name Archie.’
Maisie blinked. ‘What did you say?’
‘Oh well,’ said Ruth, smiling, ‘I didn’t want to give the impression that you had no admirers, so I said I wasn’t in a position to say. Now do get up and let me attend to that hair. Oh, and the steward gave me a letter for you. I think it’s from Mrs Lamont.’
Maisie submitted to Ruth’s attentions, and watched her transform her hair from a pinned-up bird’s nest to something fit to be seen at the dinner table. But all the while she fretted. Should she be pleased or worried that someone was enquiring after her? Would people remark on her absence, and what could she say to divert them? And would the person who had tried to kill her be sitting at her table tonight?
Chapter 15
Constance Lamont to Maisie Frobisher, Marylebone
Dear Maisie,
I expect that you are almost on the other side of the world by now. What a wonderful adventure you must be having! I have not received any letters from you as yet, but hopefully they will arrive soon. I shall write to you at each port, just in case.
Katherine and I have solved the case of the disappearing lady, and also seen Edinburgh in the process. What a beautiful city. I think you would love it, although it will probably seem pedestrian compared to your more extensive travels.
As ever, Albert and Bee send love. I saw your mother at the Bebingtons’ two days ago and, while anxious about you, she appeared in good health.
With love,
Connie
‘Now I feel bad for not writing to her,’ said Maisie, passing the letter back to Ruth and staring at her dismayed reflection in the dressing-table mirror.
‘Never mind, it isn’t your fault,’ said Ruth. ‘Hurry, or you will be late for dinner, and then people will talk.’
Maisie steeled herself as she entered the dining room, but there were no disapproving faces at the table. Everyone seemed pleased to see her. ‘Were you on a different excursion, Miss Frobisher?’ asked the colonel. ‘I thought you would be in our party.’
‘I have a confession,’ said Maisie, and Inspector Hamilton shot her an unmistakable warning look. ‘I am afraid that I slept in again, and missed it! By the time I woke up, you had gone.’
‘You must have needed it,’ said Mrs Fortescue. ‘You didn’t miss much.’ She glanced at the inspector and leaned towards Maisie. ‘He didn’t let us off the leash at all,’ she said. ‘We were herded into a carriage and not allowed to stray.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Maisie. ‘What a shame.’
‘And you missed the excitement last night,’ said Mr Randall. ‘Someone collapsed at the ball.’
‘Oh no!’ cried Maisie. She put a hand on her heart, partly to indicate her surprise and partly to try and quell its thumping. ‘Who?’
He grinned. ‘Nobody knows. She was painted as a Pierrot, and no one would own her. A Clown took her away, and then —’ He spread his hands. ‘Who knows?’
‘Disgraceful,’ said Mrs Jennings. Her face was white, and she gripped her cutlery tightly. ‘I don’t think she was a first-class passenger at all. I mean, anyone could have got dressed up and sneaked in.’ She ripped a piece from her bread roll and put it in her mouth as if to silence herself.
‘I hope she is all right,’ said Maisie. ‘Perhaps she fainted. It was warm in that room.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Mrs Fortescue. ‘Although those baggy costumes are rather airy. Anyway, let me tell you about Aden, since you missed it.’
Grateful for the diversion, Maisie listened attentively. She did not dare to look at the inspector again. Instead she studied her fellow-passengers, trying to pick out a possible Harlequin, but she drew a blank. Mr Merritt was too stiff, Mr Randall too broad-shouldered, the colonel too old, and Mr Smythe insufficiently graceful.
After dinner the ladies and gentlemen rose to go their separate ways, and Maisie was relieved at the prospect of small talk in the saloon. But as she left the table she saw Mrs Jennings mutter to her daughter, and hurry away.
Intrigued, Maisie followed, keeping a discreet distance. Mrs Jennings caught up with the captain, and touched his sleeve. ‘Captain Carstairs, might I have a word?’
Maisie’s blood ran cold. Had Mrs Jennings guessed her secret? She edged closer, until she was tucked behind a pillar a few feet from the pair.
‘A quick word, yes,’ said the captain. ‘I am about to join the gentlemen for a smoke, and then I have charts to examine.’
‘Of course, captain.’ Mrs Jennings glanced around, and Maisie made herself as small as she could. ‘If you remember, I have some jewellery in your safe. I need to have it back, please.’
‘Have it back?’ the captain queried. ‘Are you concerned for its safety?’
‘No, it is not that.’ Mrs Jennings paused, then her next words rushed out. ‘I find myself in a small financial difficulty, and I must raise money before we arrive at Bombay. Would you happen to know if we have a — a moneylender or a pawnbroker aboard?’
The captain did not speak for some time. ‘I am sorry to hear this, Mrs Jennings,’ he said at last. ‘Could it not wait until Bombay?’
‘Absolutely not,’ said Mrs Jennings.
A further silence. ‘Then you had better come to my quarters,’ said Captain Carstairs.
‘Oh thank you, captain,’ said Mrs Jennings, relief manifest in her tone. ‘You don’t know what this means to me —’
‘Quickly, now,’ said the captain.
Maisie waited till they had left the room before making her way to the saloon. There she accepted a cup of tea and a petit four, and wandered to the sofa where Miss Jennings sat. ‘May I join you?’ she asked. ‘Or are you saving a place for Mrs Jennings?’
‘I am sure that Mother will come soon,’ said Miss Jennings. She looked ill at ease, and seemed to be trying to fold herself into the corner of the sofa.
‘Do you not play tonight?’ asked Maisie.
‘I have no heart for the piano,’ said Miss Jennings, and scrutinised her twisting hands.
Mrs Jennings did not return until a quarter to ten, and immediately marched up to her daughter. ‘Time for bed, Sophia,’ she said. ‘I have a bad headache, which I suspect is the start of a cold; and if I have a cold, you are sure to get it too.’
Miss Jennings rose immediately and followed her mother from the room. Maisie would have loved to pursue them; but there was
no opportunity without attracting attention.
The buffet was announced, and Maisie took the opportunity to leave the saloon. She ate a sandwich or two — at least her appetite was unimpaired — and made her excuses. ‘As you must know by now, I need my sleep,’ she joked, and headed to her cabin. But instead of going in, she waited outside the door and listened. She heard the murmur of voices not too far away, in another cabin. Maisie moved closer.
‘Mama, you can’t! Not your pearls.’
‘Yes I can, and I shall. This is more important than jewellery.’
‘I can’t ask you to —’
‘You don’t have to, Sophia. We are making a fresh start, and I will not let something like this spoil it. I shall visit the gentleman tomorrow, and hopefully have the money ready by dinner.’
‘It is so cruel,’ said Miss Jennings. ‘Making you sneak around like this.’
‘But it must be done,’ said her mother.
‘I wish you would tell the captain,’ pleaded Miss Jennings. ‘The inspector, even.’
‘That would make things worse,’ said Mrs Jennings. ‘This is the only way.’
Maisie longed to knock, to ask what was wrong, even give them money if that would help, but she had a distinct feeling that her presence would not be welcomed. She tiptoed away, barely daring to breathe until she had reached the safety of her own cabin.
***
Maisie was on the promenade deck before breakfast next morning, but there was no sign of Inspector Hamilton. Trust him to sleep in on the very day I need him, she thought to herself. For a moment she imagined Inspector Hamilton asleep, no doubt in pyjamas of the same immaculate neatness and stylish cut as his daytime apparel. Or perhaps he did not wear pyjamas — She gasped at the thought, and marched herself round the deck a few times so that any pinkness in her complexion might be attributable to that.
The inspector was at breakfast, but hurried out before she had a chance to apprehend him, and did not appear in any public spaces, or indeed at lunch.
Maisie finally found him at afternoon tea, and managed to catch his eye from a few feet away. He raised an eyebrow, excused himself from the conversation, and ambled to the refreshment table, scrutinising the sandwiches.
Maisie ate what remained on her plate and joined him two minutes later. ‘Something is up with the Jenningses,’ she murmured.
‘Allow me to pour your tea, Miss Frobisher,’ he said. ‘What sort of something?’ he muttered, under cover of the teapot.
‘Mrs J is pawning some jewellery. She needs money by dinner-time tonight.’
‘Not more jewellery,’ he murmured, selecting an egg and cress sandwich.
‘I don’t know what’s going on,’ said Maisie, ‘but it’s personal.’
‘I shall look into it,’ said the inspector.
Maisie stared at him. ‘Is that it?’
‘It may be as simple as an unpaid bill,’ he replied. ‘I shall try to catch Mrs Jennings before dinner and see what, if anything, she is prepared to tell me.’
‘She won’t talk to you,’ said Maisie. ‘She won’t tell you or the captain what it is. She mentioned a fresh start.’
‘I shall do my best,’ said the inspector, adding a potted-meat sandwich to his plate. ‘And if you are thinking what I suspect you are, that does not include you. Stay out of it.’
‘But I could —’
‘That’s a no, Miss Frobisher. Thank you for keeping me informed.’ The inspector gave her a stern look, then stuck a polite smile on his face and drifted away.
Maisie took two more sandwiches on her own account, and bit into one savagely before realising that it was poached chicken, which she hated. Oh well, she thought, swallowing it as quickly as possible, I had better make a good meal now, since I may be late for dinner.
***
‘Absolutely not, Miss Frobisher,’ said Ruth.
‘I won’t damage it or get it dirty, if that’s what you’re worrying about,’ said Maisie. ‘I just need to borrow it.’
‘And what am I supposed to wear in the meantime?’ asked Ruth. ‘I can hardly stroll around in my Sunday best, can I?’
‘Put one of mine on,’ said Maisie.
‘And why do you want my dress?’ asked Ruth.
‘Never you mind,’ said Maisie. ‘If you refuse, I could give you notice.’ She paused. ‘I only need it for half an hour. You may stay in my room, and I shall pay you a bonus.’
Muttering under her breath, Ruth drew the curtain across the porthole. ‘Find me a dress, then,’ she said, unbuttoning the bodice of her stuff gown. ‘Since I cannot refuse.’
A general opening of doors took place at five minutes to seven, accompanied by the easy chatter of companions. Maisie waited, eye to the keyhole. There were the Jenningses, leaving with everyone else. Surely she had not made a mistake? Then Mrs Jennings stopped. ‘I have forgotten my handkerchief, Sophia. You go on.’
The corridor quietened, and Maisie listened for any sound. Then a door squeaked open, and through the keyhole she saw Mrs Jennings scurry by. Maisie turned and put a finger to her lips, and Ruth, resplendent in yellow silk, scowled at her in return.
Maisie tracked Mrs Jennings at a safe distance, making sure she could always hide behind something. Where is she going? Mrs Jennings passed the door which led to the promenade deck, and went down the stairs. She walked quickly past the saloon. She paused outside the gentlemen’s smoking room, peeped through the keyhole, then entered. The door closed.
Maisie threw caution to the wind and hurried after her, putting her own eye to the keyhole. Mrs Jennings crossed to the portrait of Queen Victoria hanging over the fireplace, lifted the bottom-left corner, and, taking a thick envelope from her bag, put it behind the frame. She turned, and Maisie jumped back from the keyhole as though she had been seen. Which way would Mrs Jennings go? The dining room was close by, on the left. Maisie ran the other way and took refuge in the saloon, her heart pounding. Please go straight to dinner, she prayed.
There was no angry exclamation, no pursuit, and gradually Maisie relaxed. She peeped into the corridor, and then scurried to the smoking room. She entered, and walked towards the picture. Would she find what she expected? She raised her hand to the bottom of the frame —
The door banged open. ‘What have we here?’ boomed a voice. It sounded like Colonel Fortescue. ‘What’s a nice little maid doing in the smoking room?’
‘Just dusting, sir,’ said Maisie, not turning. Please go away.
‘Dusting, at this time?’ The colonel laughed. ‘Where is your duster then, pray?’
‘I must have forgotten it, sir,’ said Maisie.
‘You do know that you shouldn’t be in here, don’t you?’ said the colonel, in quite a fatherly way. ‘The gentlemen will come in an hour or so, and their conversation is often not fit for ladies’ ears. Let me escort you —’
Maisie quivered with fear. ‘Please don’t, sir!’ He was almost upon her; she could feel his tread on the boards. Can I make a dash for it?
‘Don’t be silly,’ said the colonel, and a large hand grasped her elbow. Maisie struggled, but his grip tightened. ‘There is no need to be frightened, miss —’ He pulled on Maisie’s arm and spun her to face him. ‘Good heavens!’ His face changed from merriment to suspicion in an instant. ‘What are you doing in here, Miss Frobisher? And why are you wearing a maid’s dress?’
‘Please let me go, Colonel,’ said Maisie, squirming. ‘Let me go and change, and I shall come straight to dinner —’
‘I don’t like this,’ said the colonel, frowning. ‘Sneaking around when everyone is at dinner, eh? What reason do you have to be in here?’
‘No reason,’ said Maisie. ‘I, um, wanted to see the room.’
‘I think not,’ said the colonel. ‘And since you won’t tell me why you are in here, and wearing that outfit, we shall see what the captain and the inspector make of this when I take you in to dinner.’
‘Please, Colonel,’ said Maisie. ‘I can’t be seen l
ike this. My reputation will be ruined —’
‘You should have thought of that before,’ said the colonel. ‘Now come with me.’
The colonel hustled Maisie to the dining room. Dinner was well in progress, and when Colonel Fortescue flung the door open everyone looked up at the noise. They stared, and several people gasped. The colonel paid no attention, but marched Maisie up to her place. ‘Sit,’ he snapped, and went to speak to the captain.
Maisie obeyed. Everyone has seen me now, she thought. There is no point in doing anything else. She sat, not daring to look.
‘What on earth?’ Maisie raised her head. Miss Jeroboam was staring at her in frank amusement. ‘Why are you wearing that get-up?’
Maisie slowly shook her head. She picked up a spoon, then put it down again.
Eventually conversation resumed, but nobody addressed her. Maisie picked at her roll, ate a few mouthfuls, and drank some water. She had no heart for anything else. Once she glanced at the inspector, but his cold grey eyes showed only contempt. I can’t stay here any longer, she thought, her face burning, and began to rise from the table; but the inspector, stone-faced, mouthed the word No, and she sat down again to await her fate.
Chapter 16
Dinner seemed to pass unusually quickly; clearly no one wished to linger at the table. Even so, every minute was agony to Maisie, yet she did not want it to end. For the end of dinner would mean facing Captain Carstairs and Inspector Hamilton.
Dessert was brought and eaten, and as the stewards cleared away the captain and the inspector exchanged glances. ‘Gentlemen, the smoking room calls,’ said the captain. ‘Mr Hamilton and I shall join you shortly. Ladies, please excuse us.’
‘No!’ cried Maisie.
The captain glared. ‘What do you mean, no?’
The ladies were rising. Most of them were very deliberately not looking at Maisie, but Mrs and Miss Jennings’s eyes were fixed on her, imploring.
‘I cannot tell you here,’ replied Maisie. ‘May we speak in private?’
The captain’s eyebrows climbed higher. ‘We are about to do so; unless you would rather explain your conduct to the table.’
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