Henry & Sarah

by Kadrak, Suzanne

  “Thank you, Sir,” Oscar answered and tried to come to the point quickly. “Well, it is about the Princess of the Seas which is leaving for America tonight.”

  “The Princess of the Seas—a wonderful ship!” Sir Merryweather exclaimed. “Not quite as big as the SS Thalassa, but still one of the best vessels I have in my stable, so to speak. Has crossed the waters of the Atlantic already a dozen times and has never hit an iceberg—knock on wood!”

  Sir Merryweather knocked three times with the knuckles of his fingers against his head.

  “My niece and a good friend of mine would like to go on board tonight,” Oscar continued. “But they do not have any tickets. Well, that is not true actually; my friend has a ticket, but only one, and that is for steerage class.”

  Oscar pulled Henryʼs crumpled green slip out of his trouser pockets and laid it on the table in front of Sir Merryweather, whose incredulous eyes darted between the doctor and the ticket.

  “You must be joking,” he said.

  “That is what I told my friend as well, but he did not have enough money to buy a ticket for a better class, let alone two.”

  “You want me to get you tickets for them, is that correct?” Sir Merryweather asked.

  “Well, I will pay for them of course. Money is not the problem. It is rather that I dread it is too late and that there are no cabins available anymore. But it is quite essential that they leave tonight and not next week or the week after...”

  “Forget about the money,” Sir Merryweather said determinedly. “As for the time frame, I must admit it is quite short notice. I am unsure if I will be able to get you two separate cabins.”

  “Oh, that will not be a problem,” Oscar hastened to say. “They can share one as they are… well, they are… married. Almost, I mean…”

  Oscar felt his face get hot and hoped that it was not all too evident that he had lied. But Sir Merryweather didnʼt appear as if he had noticed anything.

  “Alright, I will see what I can do. Would 2nd Class suffice? It is not top of the range, but 2nd Class cabins are quite comfortable nowadays, especially on the Princess of the Seas. At least it is the ʻsurvival classʼ, as I tend to call it.”

  “Oh, 2nd Class should be perfectly fine! Thank you very much, Sir Merryweather, thank you so much!”

  “Well, save up your gratitude for later when you actually have the tickets. As for now, I can not guarantee you anything, but what I can guarantee you is that I will try my utmost to help you. I will send a note with a courier down to the docks straight away, checking with the booking department if there happens to be a cabin left.”

  Oscarʼs heart was racing in his chest. He was overcome with such utter relief that he would have gladly flung his arms around Sir Merryweather and kissed him on both his cheeks.

  Sir Merryweather took a pen and began to scribble a message on a piece of paper for the courier to

  deliver. Oscar hoped that the courier wasnʼt the old, slow butler who had let him in.

  “So, how many tickets are we talking about again?” Sir Merryweather asked as he was writing. “Two?”

  Oscar hesitated for a moment.

  Come on, you fool, donʼt be a coward! You were so sure about it only a couple of days ago...

  “Well, three actually…” he finally answered.

  “Three?” Sir Merryweather looked up from the paper. “Another friend of yours?”

  Oscar hesitated again.

  “No, it is… it is myself,” he said, close to falling off his chair with nervousness.

  What a surprise this will be for the others...

  “May I ask why there is such a rush?” Sir Merryweather wanted to know.

  “Well,” Oscar cleared his throat, trying to come up with a plausible explanation. He wasnʼt all too keen on telling Sir Merryweather the truth. “My friendʼs cousin in America is quite ill. We do not know if he will be with us any longer.”

  “Oh,” Sir Merryweather furrowed his brow and looked up. “And you are going because they think that you might save someoneʼs life again?”

  “Oh, well, yes, I will try my best...” Oscar replied, smiling uncertainly.

  Sir Merryweather put down his pen and folded the litte note he had written.

  “Now let me give this to my courier. Come and see me again later, let us say in three hours. I will not be here personally then, but I will leave the tickets with my butler downstairs—provided my undertaking was successful. But I daresay we should not run into any major trouble. Not too many can afford the better cabins nowadays, so there is a good chance that there will still be some vacancies in 2nd Class.”

  Sir Merryweather got up from his chair, as did Oscar.

  “I am most grateful, Sir Merryweather,” Oscar said gravely and shook Sir Merryweatherʼs hand. “Let me tell you that you are indeed doing me a grand favor...”

  Somehow it seemed to him that Sir Merryweather secretly sensed that all of this was not really about visiting a sick cousin.

  “I am not sure if I want to know what you are really up to,” Sir Merryweather mumbled, casting Oscar a suspicious glance.

  “Sir, may I ask you a question—a personal one?” Oscar asked.

  “Go ahead, Doctor,” Sir Merryweather answered.

  “Are you of the opinion that family traditions and family interests are of greater importance than following your own heartʼs desires?”

  “Let me tell you something, Doctor,” Sir Merryweather said. “If I had always acted in my familyʼs interests, I would not be what I am now.”

  “And from a hypothetical point of view,” Oscar added, “what would you do if you desperately wanted to help two people in love who do not have the power to stand up for their heartʼs desires and who see themselves in a situation where the odds are stacked against them?”

  For a moment, Sir Merryweather pensively looked at Oscar. Then an amused smile spread across his lips.

  “I would bring them on one of my ships and send them to America.”

  The next moment, the two men broke out in laughter before Sir Merryweather became more serious again.

  “But do me a favor, Dr. Scott: Do not get yourself into too much trouble...” he mumbled.

  Oscar nodded and followed Sir Merryweather out of the room.

  Too late, he thought, too late.

  * * *

  Henry had spent the best part of the afternoon with cleaning. Now he was standing in the middle of his room, which looked neat and tidy, and examined his work.

  Dusk had already begun to fall, and Henry wondered where Oscar was as he had not seen the doctor for hours.

  At ten past seven Oscar knocked at the door. When he entered the room, he appeared tired but happy.

  “Oscar, where have you been?!” Henry called out, relieved to see his friend again.

  Oscar fumbled in his trouser pockets and produced two tickets.

  “I was not able to get tickets for 1st Class,” he explained, “but at least I got some for a 2nd Class cabin which should suffice.”

  Henry incredulously stared at the tickets which Oscar handed him.

  “God, Oscar, you are a genius…!”

  “No, Henry, trust me, I was just damn lucky. There was really only one cabin available—and I got it for free.”

  Oscar took off his coat, threw it over a chair, and sat down on the bed. Only then did he notice the cleanliness of the room.

  “You have been quite busy while I was gone.”

  “I needed to calm my nerves. It proved to be a good distraction,” Henry replied. He was still unable to believe that he was now the owner of two tickets for 2nd Class which would allow him to offer Sarah a somewhat comfortable journey. He guessed that under different circumstances these tickets would have cost him a fortune.

  “So are you ready to leave then?” Oscar asked. “I mean, ready to leave it all behind?”

  Henry hesitated for a moment before he answered.

  “I suppose, yes...”

  “Y
ou will be fine, Henry. Everything will be fine,” Oscar said soothingly, sensing Henryʼs uncertainty.

  “I hope so...”

  Henry stuck his hands in his trouser pockets and began to nervously pace up and down the room.

  “You know, I have never had a lot of very good friends,” he said in a somber tone. “You have become a really dear friend to me, and I am actually not that good at saying goodbye.”

  Henry noticed a strange little smile creeping over Oscarʼs lips, a smile that he was unable to read.

  “Neither am I, Henry, but there is no need to say goodbye just now. After all, I will join you later when you pick up Sarah.”

  “God, Oscar, no, I wonʼt let you come with me!” Henry exclaimed. “You have already done so much for me; I will not allow you to risk your neck for us. After all, it is better if Damian does not see you. He mustnʼt find out that you are involved in all of this. I mean, if I really fail tonight, you can still try and become reconciled with your sister, and then, maybe, she will reconsider her decision to not let you see Sarah again.”

  “You are right, Henry, I see your point,” Oscar agreed. “Will you be alright, though, on your own?”

  “I will,” Henry said gravely. Then he reached over to his coat, pulled a pistol out of its pocket and held it in the air for Oscar to see. The latter appeared both astonished and shocked.

  “Good Lord, where the hell did you get that from?”

  A sheepish smile on his lips, Henry quickly stuck the pistol back in the pocket.

  “Got it from some creepy-looking street vendor this afternoon. In all honesty, I would have never believed that I would come this far...”

  “Well, love makes us do a lot of things that we initially considered ourselves incapable of doing.”

  Oscar let out a sigh and lazily stretched out on Henryʼs bed.

  “Have you ever been in love, Oscar?” Henry asked. “I mean, really in love?”

  Oscar pensively stared at the ceiling.

  “No,” he whispered, “unfortunately not. But I would like to fall in love with someone, just as you did. I am in my mid-thirties now, you know. I can not spend all my life chasing after women who only want to play. But then again, I suppose, I am only a player myself.”

  Oscar grinned at Henry before turning serious again.

  “It is not the life I want, though.”

  They spent the following hours dining in a nearby restaurant and then playing cards in Henryʼs room, in an attempt to distract their minds.

  At midnight, Henry got up, put on his coat and was just about to take his suitcase when Oscar held him back.

  “Leave your luggage with me. I will take care of it. If you do not want me around when you pick up Sarah, let me at least wait for the two of you at the docks. I will bring your suitcase there and then we will still have the chance to say goodbye to each other properly. After all, I would like to see Sarah before she leaves.”

  “Alright,” Henry answered, and couldnʼt get rid of the feeling that yet again Oscar withheld some information from him.

  For a long moment the two men were just standing there, staring at each other in oppressive silence, both of them aware of the hazards which lay ahead of them.

  “So no goodbye then,” Henry said.

  “No, no goodbye. Not yet,” Oscar answered.

  “At the docks then.”

  “Exactly. At the docks. Be careful, Henry.”

  “I will.”

  The two men hugged each other.

  Then, with a strange mixture of fear and eager determination, Henry left the guesthouse, stepped outside into the pitch-dark night and climbed in the coach which he had booked earlier on and which would bring him to the hotel, where Sarah and Damian were staying.

  Chapter 15 – Showdown

  Henry had never felt that strange in his entire life.

  If my father could see me now... he thought somewhat shamefully, his hand nervously brushing the bulk in the pocket of his coat where he had hidden the pistol. He hoped he wouldnʼt need it. And if everything went according to plan, he most definitely wouldnʼt need it. He would throw the pistol into the next gutter and would never ever be that close to committing a crime anymore.

  But then again, I am not really committing a crime, am I? he pondered. After all, it was not his intention to shoot anyone. He carried that gun for the mere purpose of self-defence, just in case, things got out of hand. Still, he felt highly uneasy.

  The coach darted through the nightly streets. The flames of the gas lanterns had already been extinguished in most parts of the city. Only the moon cast an eerie light down on the facades of the palatial houses lining Kensington Road, making them appear pale and blasé. And in their midst, Mount Merrion Hotel, the only building whose front was still brightly lit.

  Henry leaned out of the window and told the coach driver, a small bloated man who proudly called himself ʻThe Wheeler,ʼ to pass Mount Merrion Hotel and stop the coach a little bit further down the road, just as he and Sarah had agreed on. He was glad that Wheeler didnʼt ask too many questions. In fact, he didnʼt ask any questions at all and just sat there on the driverʼs seat and waited as he had been told to do, even though it had confused him when Henry had asked him to extinguish the torch lights on either side of the coach so that they wouldnʼt be seen that easily.

  Henry had spent quite a lot of time in rather sinister corners of town just to find a coach driver who appeared cunning and impudent enough to get involved into something dishonorable. The Wheeler had been recommended to him by some brothel owner who had told him with a clandestine wink that he knew someone, a friend of a friend of his brother, who regularly and secretly picked up and delivered ʻall sorts of things.ʼ Henry had not been keen on finding out what exactly the man had meant by ʻall sorts of things.ʼ After all, he didnʼt want to end up as somebody in the know of the brothel ownerʼs wheeling and dealing. Instead, he had been grateful when the brothel owner had just said to him that this particular friend would wait for Henry outside Mrs. Potterʼs guesthouse at the arranged time—provided that Henry was willing to pay some extra money, which Henry had agreed on with gritted teeth and without complaining. He considered himself lucky as he was sure that no other coach driver would have wanted to act as an involuntary accomplice to more or less kidnapping another person, even though that other person didnʼt mind being kidnapped at all.

  Henry threw a nervous glance at his pocket watch and saw that it was twenty past midnight.

  He leaned back in his seat and waited as the minutes slowly passed.

  * * *

  Sarah was sitting on the edge of her bed, motionless, her heart beating excitedly in her chest. Damian was lying next to her, his breathing calm and quiet.

  Sarah hoped that he was sound asleep. She couldnʼt really tell, as her plan with the sleeping pill had not worked out. Although Henry had hidden it in the flower pot as promised, and although she had managed to pick it up unnoticed upon leaving the hotel with Damian a couple of hours earlier, she hadnʼt had any chance all evening to put the pill into Damianʼs glass as his acquaintances had constantly surrounded her and engaged her in conversations.

  Back in the hotel, she had secretly put the pill into a glass of water and, with a sweet and servile smile on her lips, had kindly offered the glass to her husband. But Damian had said he wasnʼt thirsty.

  Now, his glass was still standing untouched on his nightstand. Luckily, though, the many glasses of wine which Damian had drunk during the course of the evening had made him drowsy enough for Sarah to hope that he wouldnʼt need any additional means to make him sleep.

  She was highly relieved that at least they had come back early enough. On the way to the hotel, they had had a terrible argument, however, with Damian blaming her for not having behaved adequately in the presence of the other guests, although she had not had the slightest intention at all to embarrass him. Quite to the contrary, she had tried her best to please him so that he wouldnʼt get mad at her, as
he had become so often recently. When he was angry he tended to smash things or throw insults at her, and she knew from experience that it was best to keep a low profile in his presence and wait it all out until his choleric fits of rage had ebbed.

  No, she truly had not wanted to annoy him or make him feel as if he was married to the most stupid woman in the universe. After all, she had only followed Damianʼs instructions which he had given her and which were that she should politely enquire about the husbands and wives of the people she spoke to if she didnʼt know what else to say. Having memorized this, she had asked a certain Lady Mellingfort how her husband was, not knowing that the latter had tragically passed away only six months ago. The whole situation had got even more embarrassing when Sarah found out that the death of Lord Mellingfort was something nobody really wanted to talk about because he had died due to syphilis. Later, Damian had grumpily explained to Sarah that this was a sexually transmitted disease that people caught when regularly going to brothels. Sarah had asked him what a brothel was and Damian had replied that it was a place where men slept with women for money when they felt sexually frustrated at home. Then he had added surly that he too should consider visiting a brothel every now and then.