Her only response was a quizzical look.
“I like English women and don’t regret having married one, but I don’t want my daughter raised by three women who will instill only British manners, morals, and attitudes in her. She’s half American, and I want her to learn at least as much about that side of her heritage.”
“I see your point.”
He leaned in closer. “I’m losing my child. I almost never see her. I didn’t mind when she was a mere babe and needed a woman’s constant care, but she’s almost four years old now. I want to spend more time with her, talk to her, play with her, understand her.”
“As, indeed, you should. In the absence of a mother, it’s all the more important she grow closer to you.”
He couldn’t help grinning at her declaration. Engaging her sympathy had been a good idea. “May I call you Beth or Elizabeth?”
His request seemed to surprise her. She paused.
“Yes, of course, sir,” she said, her tone subservient.
“Please call me Richard.”
“Excuse me, sir, but, under the circumstances, I would not feel comfortable doing so.” She stood and touched her hair, a gesture he recognized as anxious.
She had returned to her formal, no-nonsense servant mode and was no longer the smiling, pretty girl he’d met on the dock.
“If it pleases you, sir, perhaps I could meet Miss Kathleen now.”
“Of course. She’s upstairs with her aunts and is looking forward to it.”
He led the way, wondering if Beth Shallcross—he already thought of her as “Beth”—would remain standoffish forever. If so, how would they ever endure seven days at sea together?
Chapter 3
As they mounted the steps to the upper floor of his Belgravia house, Beth thought about what Richard Graham had just said. On the one hand, she liked him, but on the other, she felt belittled, constrained by her position as his employee, which meant being of a lower class. The Wheatlys, although also part of the British aristocracy, never made her feel inferior. Accepted as a member of their household, she dined often with them and attended functions in their home. True, they always introduced her as the children’s governess, but—perhaps because they had lived in America the entire time—guests had rarely treated her with condescension.
Her new employer broke into her thoughts. “You will find Kathleen is never shy with strangers. No doubt it’s because she has always been surrounded by so many relatives. Her aunts, as well as Lady Wheatly, have acted as surrogate mothers since the day she was born.”
“Is Lady Wheatly here today?”
“No, not today, but you will meet Charlotte and Anne.”
As Beth entered the upstairs sitting room, both women greeted her politely but otherwise seemed quite aloof. Beth wondered if Lady Wheatly had spoken to them beforehand. On that day in the Wheatly’s house, Lady Wheatly had been seemingly unaware that her husband had prevailed upon Graham to engage Beth as governess; furthermore, her expression indicated she disliked the idea. She must have spoken with the aunts. What else could explain their coldness?
Yet, to be fair, perhaps they simply objected to having the child they had come to consider their own snatched from their arms and taken off to America.
Fortunately, Beth didn’t have to endure more than a few minutes with them. The two women soon left the room, allowing Beth to interact freely with Kathleen.
The child was exceptionally pretty, with long golden curls and large blue eyes. She warmed to Beth almost immediately, accepting her, apparently, as just another of the many friendly grown-ups who appeared with great frequency in her life.
In the nursery, they sat on little chairs together, and Beth admired the child’s collection of picture books. Kathleen even let her hold her favorite doll, which she called Toby.
At tea time, they sat at a small table and Kathleen insisted on pouring tea and milk from tiny pitchers into even smaller cups belonging to her very own doll-sized tea service.
After tea, Beth said, “I’m so pleased to meet you, and I hope we’ll become good friends.”
“I like having friends,” Kathleen said. “Pa-pa says we’re going to America together on a big ship, and you will take care of me.”
“That’s right.”
“Just like Aunt Charlotte and Aunt Anne. Must I call you Miss Shallcross or shall I call you Aunt Beth?”
Her father answered. “I think ‘Miss Beth’ is a better choice.”
Kathleen smiled. “Miss Beth is a nice name, too.”
To Beth’s surprise, the little girl then suggested the three of them go to the zoo. “Pa-pa says I might not see the animals for a long time.”
“That’s true,” her father said, “but there are zoos in America as well.”
“But not the same ones. I have given these elephants names, and I want to say goodbye to them.”
“Very well. If it’s all right with Miss Beth, we will do that.”
The afternoon visit ended, and two days later, they went to the London Zoo. On yet another day, they sailed little boats in the pond in Hyde Park.
“Do they have parks in Yew Nork, and may we sail boats in them?”
Beth laughed at Kathleen’s mispronunciation. “Oh yes. There is a very large one in New York. They call it Central Park, and you may sail boats, or even take a ride in a boat.”
“Is Yew—New York as big as London?”
Beth wasn’t sure which was larger and didn’t answer the question. She described some of the sights of the city the little girl would see, hoping to lessen any anxiety she might feel at the loss of her usual surroundings.
“Besides zoos and parks, New York has libraries and many other tall buildings just like London.”
“Does it have a building with a big clock like Big Ben in the tower?”
“Not exactly like that, but it has a giant railway station with a huge clock.”
“May I go to see it? I love clocks. I can tell time, you know.”
“Yes, of course, you may see it.” She thought of something else. “New York is close to the ocean and you may go to the beach.”
“A beach in the city? How very strange.” She turned to her father. “Is that true?”
“Indeed it is. I shall take you there soon. When the weather is warmer. It might still be too cold in April.”
Kathleen grinned, as if any doubts she’d had about going so far away had been dispelled by hearing of the unexpected glories of her new home.
Those pleasant interludes prevented Beth from feeling resentful about her status in Graham’s eyes. She reminded herself that once they’d crossed the Atlantic and settled into a home in New York, someone else would take over for her, either one of Graham’s relatives, or a different governess. She would then return to England, free to pursue a new career. She might even meet young men who would not think less of her for having once been employed as a governess. Yet, she couldn’t help wishing that Richard Graham could be that young man. Aside from his social position, she admired him for his exceptional good looks, his demeanor, and, especially, his obvious love of his daughter.
* * *
Her vacation drawing to a close and the date of sailing drawing near, Beth spent more of her time with her own family. In spite of her eagerness to return to New York, she felt ambivalent about the journey. Once she completed her duties for Lord and Lady Wheatly and the agents rented their house, she would be on her own again. She would return to England and have to find a new position and an affordable flat. She didn’t relish staying in her parents’ house anymore. During her three years in America, she’d been able to send money home, but perhaps such an arrangement would no longer be possible.
Those thoughts aside, she especially enjoyed spending Easter Sunday at home, going to the same church she’d attended since she was two years old, and visiting other relatives and old friends. She also savored what amounted to her mother’s gourmet Easter feast, even though it bore slight resemblance to the culinary d
elights whipped up by Lady Wheatly’s chefs in New York over the past three years.
Her mother barely succeeded in hiding the occasional tears at the thought of her daughter leaving home again. Beth’s father spoke of their mother’s sadness as the two sat together one evening before the unlit fireplace: “Beth, my dear, do you not feel the slightest bit guilty about your desire to leave us for so much time in America? Your mother is quite upset to think so.”
“Of course I do, but ‘slightest’ is the right word. After all, this time I’ll be home again in a matter of months. I’m afraid I have no guilt for wanting a different kind of life. As I said before—”
“I know,” her father interrupted, “you love us but you believe democracy is a better system than monarchy.”
“That’s only part of it. I have several reasons. I know there are typewriting schools here and companies that might hire me to work for them, but New York seems to be a more likely place for such a thing to happen.” She had often watched the many young women, dressed in smart attire, board buses or descend the stairs to the subway on their way to work. How she longed to be one of them.
“London is a big city, too, you know.”
“But our house is so crowded. Irene and Sarah ought to have a room of their own, not one that they have to share with me. I might have to rent a flat near my job, and then I wouldn’t be able to help so much with expenses.”
“Help with expenses? Do you mean the money you sent home the three years you’ve been away?”
“Yes. It’s only right I do my share.”
“But we don’t need your money. It’s true your mother has used some of it to purchase a little something extra now and again, but most of it has been put by for you. You can use it to pay for your typewriting school.”
Her surprise made her voice rise. “Mum put it by?”
“Of course. What did you think?”
“I assumed it paid for rent and groceries and clothes for the family.”
“Not at all. Except for a treat now and then, as I just said. Believe me, we shall continue to get on just fine without it in future.”
“You’re sure?”
“Of course.” He leaned in closer. “Because you’re the eldest, you’ve always helped with the younger ones. You’ve done enough. You need to live your own life now. Whatever that might be.”
“I never minded helping out, and I expected you to use that money.”
“Not a bit of it. The money you sent belongs to you and you may do whatever you wish with it.”
“Whatever I wish?” Visions of life as a New York office girl whirled in her head. She spoke almost in a whisper. “I wish I could stay in New York.”
“Then that’s exactly what you should do.” He pulled her to her feet and gave her a loving look. “You’re almost twenty-five years old. It’s time you got what you wanted. Forget the family. We’ll get along fine. Even better when we know you’re happy.”
When he released her, he lit the logs in the fireplace before sitting down again.
Beth paced the floor. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help feeling responsible for my brothers and sisters. And what about Mother?”
“She’ll be unhappy for a while, but, as you pointed out yourself, she has four other children to worry about.”
“That’s true, and I do so want to live in New York.”
“I want you to stay there for as long as it pleases you.” He paused. “You know, I have often harbored a tiny fear that you will never stop feeling responsible for your family.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?”
“I’m the head of this house, and I love my position. Some day you will be head of your own household. You and a husband, of course.”
“I love my brothers and sisters. I would do almost anything for them.”
“Of course. I know you. I know you might even forgo something important to you if you thought you should help one of them instead. Just as you sent money home unnecessarily instead of using it to travel as much as you could whilst in America.”
“I see what you mean, but—”
“You are very giving. Not a selfish bone in your body. But you must live for yourself now. Have a career. Get married. Live for yourself, not your brothers and sisters.”
“The idea of a career appeals to me, but so does marriage.” A tiny smile pulled up the corners of her lips. Just because a career might not have been an option for women a hundred years earlier, didn’t mean she wanted to forsake marriage altogether.
Her father seemed to read her mind. “You mustn’t take care of everyone else’s needs except your own. You don’t want to wake up some morning, when the last of your siblings has finally flown the nest, to discover you’re forty and not married.”
“You’re right. You and Mum have a good marriage, and I’d like a handsome, loving husband just like you.”
He laughed out loud.
“And a few—not too many—children of my own.”
“So we shall miss you, but I believe the best thing for you to do is stay in America as long as you like. You have my blessing, and I’ll break the news to your mother. At least I’ll try to keep her from crying for the next two weeks, until you’re safely in New York.”
* * *
On Wednesday morning, April tenth, Beth’s parents went with her to Southampton to see her off. On her previous trip to New York with the Wheatlys, they’d left from Liverpool, much farther from London. Until a year or so before, it served as the main gateway between England and America. Now a new, larger dock at Southampton handled the larger ships of the White Star Line, while smaller ones continued to take huge numbers of immigrants to the “new world” from Liverpool.
From Southampton the ship would go to Cherbourg in France to pick up more passengers and then make a brief stop at Queenstown in Ireland before heading for open sea. Nevertheless, this departure was the beginning of the voyage. The very thought thrilled her with excitement. She kissed her parents goodbye; then, waving her handkerchief all the while, she climbed the gangplank to the deck.
The thought that she might not see them for a long time made her midriff tighten, but this twinge of sadness was soon crowded out by excitement over the adventure ahead. A bright sun shone, colorful banners waved in the slight breeze, and the voices of eager travelers filled her ears. She felt as if she were beginning her life all over again.
As previously arranged, she met her traveling companions on board the ship in the first-class reception area. Richard approached almost as soon as she arrived. Once again, in spite of a bit of pique about his snobbishness, she admired his youthful good looks, cobalt-blue eyes, and clean-shaven jaw. For the past two weeks, she’d begun thinking of him as Richard, not Mr. Graham, and she smiled a welcome.
Kathleen’s long blonde curls escaped from a pretty beribboned hat. Her matching ruffled dress ended at her knees, showing white stockings and tiny boots. She held her father’s hand and clutched a doll against her chest.
Beth took the doll’s hand in hers. “How are you today, Miss Toby? I hope you’ll enjoy sailing on the big ship.”
Kathleen giggled and glanced at her father, as if sharing the joke with him.
Richard studied his boarding card. “It appears our staterooms are on B Deck. We can meet there later, if you like. I’m going to take Kathleen outside to watch us cast off and wave goodbye to the crowds.”
“There are a lot of onlookers, aren’t there?”
“I’m not surprised. This is somewhat of a special occasion, it being the ship’s maiden voyage.”
He led them out onto the deck once more and Beth felt momentarily as if they were a family—father, mother and daughter. People had often assumed so when they visited the zoo and Hyde Park, but she would have to banish these thoughts. The chances of this union happening were about the same, she supposed, as the ship going down at sea. In other words, nil. In fact, she might never have a young family of her own. At least, not with Richard�
��some other man perhaps.
They reached a spot with a good view of the crowds on the dock below. After waving her handkerchief for several minutes, Beth glanced about. Several round white life preservers hung along the railing. Each bore the name of the ship in large black letters.
RMS TITANIC.
Chapter 4
Beth found the staterooms quite elegant: three connecting rooms plus a private lavatory. Several rectangular windows—larger than the portholes she’d also seen lining the side of the ship—provided plenty of natural light to all rooms except the lavatory. Richard had a private bedroom, whereas Beth’s contained an alcove with a double bed and draperies that could be closed for privacy. Kathleen, she presumed, would sleep there. Her cabin also featured a built-in couch that converted to a bed for her, plus a desk, chair and wardrobe.
A large sitting room occupied the space between the bedrooms, and everything was decorated in Queen Anne period furniture, similar to that of Lady Wheatley’s home rather than the Chippendale style she’d seen in the rooms of their New York house. Not that her family owned such elegant furniture. Her knowledge, as usual, came from reading.
Richard, apparently focused on more practical matters than room decorations, pointed out that all connecting doors could be locked from inside. Always the perfect gentleman.
She supposed those cabins had been assigned to them because she traveled with her employer. According to what she’d read, John Jacob Astor and his wife would be boarding at Cherbourg. Mrs. Astor’s personal maid would enjoy quarters similar to hers.
After inspecting everything inside the staterooms, Richard and Kathleen took off on their own again, the child, as always, clutching her doll Toby. Beth found ample time to unpack her and Kathleen’s clothing; then, it being a warm and sunny day, she left her coat behind in the cabin and ventured out. She noticed the elevators on board but instead chose to climb the Grand Staircase to an upper deck on the port side where she could watch the lines drop off and the dock slowly recede from view as they departed.
Cold April Page 3
