A Maiden's Voyage

by Rosie Goodwin

  At 8.20 p.m. that evening the rescue ship arrived opposite her dock. It was a wild and windy night outside the harbour and as the ship sailed up the channel it was surrounded by a heavy fog. It was raining and at intervals lightning lit up the sky. Crowds had begun to gather in the vicinity of the docks long before it got dark and as time passed it became larger and larger. Over three hundred police had been drafted in to stretch ropes across the streets leading to the pier and the crowd was halted at Eleventh Avenue and allowed to go no further.

  Inside the lines were many automobiles and ambulances. Relatives of the survivors were gathered on Pier 54, but it was eerily quiet as they waited apprehensively for a sight of their loved ones. The only sound was the relentless beating of the rain and the surge of the tide. Next to the relatives was a knot of undertakers who would have the unhappy job of removing the dead who had been pulled from the sea to their premises and they were joined by white-uniformed ambulance surgeons who were prepared to minister to those survivors who were still ill or injured and transport them to the nearest hospitals if necessary. Over five hundred black-garbed Sisters of Mercy and a score of priests also stood ready to reunite the survivors with their relatives whenever they could.

  There was an air of tense expectancy as everyone was informed that the Carpathia had passed Pier 59 where they had dropped off the empty lifeboats, but still no one moved from the places they had been assigned to. It was a very sorrowful assembly. At last at 9.55 p.m. the first three women passengers walked down the gangplank followed by a sailor and a man in a big brown raincoat and a soft hat. Then came other survivors and it was instantly obvious that most of them had lost their own clothes and were wearing whatever the passengers of the Carpathia had been able to provide them with. Two poor women who appeared to be violently insane were carried from the ship while others appeared to be in a state of shock and plainly unbalanced.

  At this stage the crowd tried to surge forward but the police held them back. The heart-rending cries of some of the hysterical survivors and their relieved relatives rent the air as they sobbed for the loved ones they had lost, and throughout it all the Sisters of Mercy were desperately trying to reunite them with any relatives that were waiting for them, which was no easy job with such a huge crowd. Reporters were baying for news and flashlights regularly lit up the sorry procession of survivors as they made their way down to the pier.

  Finally, it was Flora’s turn, and as she hesitated at the top of the gangplank, gazing down at the sea of solemn faces below, she took a deep gulp of the foggy night air. It was time to begin living the lie. What would become of her if she didn’t?

  Chapter Eleven

  ‘Name, child?’ a kindly nun asked Flora as she finally stepped onto dry land. There had been times when she was adrift in the lifeboat that she had been convinced she was going to die and now that she was there she felt overcome with emotion as she thought of all the people who had perished in the freezing sea.

  ‘It’s … Constance Ogilvie.’

  Flora’s legs had suddenly turned to jelly as the woman put her arm about her waist and led her across the pier. The rain was bouncing off the cobbles and in minutes Flora was chilled to the bone. Each of the people waiting for a loved one had been separated into alphabetical groups to make it a little easier and the nun paused in front of one such group and called, ‘Constance Ogilvie!’

  Flora kept her eyes on the crowd and watched transfixed as it parted and a woman in a plain but smart outfit accompanied by a man in a dark coat and hat hurried towards her.

  ‘Oh, Constance, my poor girl, what you must have gone through!’ the woman cried as tears sparkled on her cheeks. ‘But come along, we need to get you home and into something warm. Help her, please, Thomas.’

  The man instantly stepped forward and before she knew it he had swept Flora up into his arms as if she weighed no more than a feather and was striding back towards a waiting automobile with the woman hurrying along behind him. He settled Flora onto the back seat and tucked a warm blanket about her knees, then nodding to the woman as she climbed in beside her, he asked, ‘Straight home, ma’am?’

  ‘Oh, yes please, Thomas,’ the woman answered as she tucked the blanket even more tightly about Flora. ‘And as fast as you can if you please.’

  She turned back to Flora and told her, ‘This is not quite the welcome I’d envisaged for you, my dear. It must have been awful. But anyway, as you’ve probably realised, I am your Aunt Alexandra, although I’m quite happy for you to call me Aunt Alex.’

  ‘M-my father always called me Connie,’ Flora muttered and was glad of the darkness that hid the colour that she felt flooding into her cheeks. This wasn’t going to be as easy as she had thought and just for a moment she was tempted to tell the truth.

  ‘Then Connie it is,’ the woman said gently, taking her hand and squeezing it. ‘And I can’t tell you how happy I am to have you here. I just thank God that you survived.’

  The woman seemed so sincere that the moment for telling the truth was gone and Flora knew then that she would have to go on with the lie. What alternative did she have? The car was moving now and soon they were passing buildings that seemed to stretch right up into the sky. And there were so many lights everywhere she looked, even the sky above the buildings seemed bright. She had thought London was a busy place but it was nothing compared to here. There was so much traffic and so many shops that she hardly knew where to look first, and people, so many people of all nationalities. The cold air had made her start to cough again and she was aware that Alex was watching her with a concerned look on her face, although she said little. When she had the opportunity, Flora peeped at her from the corner of her eye and thought how pretty she was. She looked like a younger version of Connie’s mother from what she had seen of her in pictures, but then she supposed she would. They had been sisters. She had the same fair hair and deep-blue eyes and she was tall and slim. Flora estimated she must be somewhere in her late thirties to early forties but she was still a very attractive woman and she seemed to be very kind, which was going to make Flora’s deception all the harder. But then, she reasoned, she had been no blood relation to Connie. Connie had always known that she had been adopted at a few days old so surely there could have been no bond between them? And she was sure that Connie had said that she couldn’t even remember her, for she hadn’t visited them since she was just a baby. Leaning her head back against the seat she closed her eyes. The next thing she knew, someone was gently shaking her arm and she realised, to her surprise, that she must have fallen asleep.

  ‘Wake up, darling. We’re home.’

  Flora opened her eyes to find Alex leaning over her but then Thomas opened the car door and lifted her out and she was carried into the house. The entrance hall was beautiful but she didn’t have long to study it for Thomas was carrying her up a sweeping, carved mahogany staircase that ended in a galleried landing.

  She was carried into a room with a four-poster bed standing against one wall where a young maid was waiting for her.

  ‘I’ve run you a nice hot bath, miss,’ she said respectfully. ‘And the mistress has laid some nightclothes out for you on the bed. We didn’t think you’d have any of your own after … Well, anyway, would you like some help?’

  ‘No, I can manage thank you,’ Flora croaked as another bout of coughing made her red in the face. Alex had joined them by then and she led her towards a pretty chair with gilt legs.

  ‘Run and fetch some hot chicken soup,’ she instructed the maid, then turning her attention back to Flora she told her, ‘I have a doctor downstairs waiting to examine you when you’ve had your bath, dear. I’m sure he’ll be able to give you something for that awful cough. And when you’re ready the bathroom is through that door there but take your time. Are you quite sure that you can manage on your own? Young Patsy, who you just met, will be your maid from now on so anything at all you need, just ask her. When you’re well again we’ll take you shopping for some lovely new clot
hes. That will be nice, won’t it? Shopping together, I mean? I’m sure we’re going to have so much fun, although … I was so sorry to hear about your father’s passing, he was a truly lovely man.’

  ‘Yes … he was,’ Flora croaked, feeling more uncomfortable by the minute. Alex was so nice she felt even worse about deceiving her now. But what alternative do I have? she asked herself as she stretched out in a bath full of warm, soapy water minutes later. Alex was being kind to her because she believed she was her niece, but if she was to discover that she was only a maid, she might turn her out into the street. Flora shuddered at the prospect as she tried to put her confused thoughts into some sort of order. And how would Connie’s uncle accept her? She remembered Connie telling her that he was much older than her aunt. But she supposed she would find out soon enough, so for now she gave herself up to the pleasure of a long, leisurely soak as she tried to block the terrible images of Connie tumbling into the sea. Once she was dry and had slipped into the nightclothes that had been laid out for her, the young maid came back carrying a tray with a pot of tea and a dish of hot soup on it.

  ‘The mistress says you’re to try and eat this, miss,’ she told Flora. ‘And when you’re done, the doctor will come in to see you.’ The girl placed the tray on a table next to the window. The heavy velvet drapes were drawn tight shut against the cold night and Flora sat down and tried to swallow some of the soup. Soon after, the doctor, a bald little man who looked to be almost as round as he was high, appeared and gave her a thorough examination as Alex hovered nervously nearby.

  ‘Hmm, her chest is very tight but then that’s to be expected after being out in the freezing cold for so long. She’s lucky it hasn’t turned to pneumonia. And she’s still quite shaky. Again, to be expected after what she’s been through, but I’m sure careful nursing, nourishing food and a few days complete bed rest will sort that,’ he observed.

  Alex breathed a sigh of relief. At least the doctor didn’t seem to consider there was any permanent damage done.

  The doctor left her a bottle of foul-smelling medicine then took his leave as Alex fussed about her. ‘It’s into bed for you, miss,’ she said kindly as she led Flora to the bed and tucked the covers under her chin. ‘And there you’ll stay until I’m quite sure you’re fully recovered. Now, is there anything I can get for you?’

  ‘Perhaps some newspapers I could read?’ Flora said falteringly.

  Alex nodded and hurried away and minutes later Patsy reappeared with a pile of different newspapers.

  ‘I’m afraid they’re all full of the disaster on the Titanic, miss. Are you sure it won’t upset you reading them?’ she asked worriedly.

  Flora shook her head and once Patsy had gone again she began to read down the list of the dead and missing people that had been identified so far. And soon she found what she was looking for, MISS FLORA BUTLER. The name seemed to jump off the page as the enormity of what she was doing came home to her. How would her parents feel when they read this? It would break their hearts. It should be Connie’s name there not hers, but already the deception had gone much too far for her to turn back. On the next page she found Connie’s name amongst the list of survivors. Toby’s name was there too – he must have been on the Carpathia as well, and she thanked God they hadn’t seen each other – although it appeared the majority of people who had survived were women and children. She thought once more then of the tiny little soul who had frozen to death in her arms and the tears came again. She knew that the memory of that poor dead baby would haunt her for many years to come. Finally, she wiped her eyes and laid the paper aside. What was done was done and from this moment on she would have to become Miss Constance Ogilvie.

  Five days later, when Alex considered that Flora was well enough to get up for a while, she was allowed down into the drawing room one morning, and there for the first time she met Connie’s uncle and his spinster daughter, Margaret.

  Her aunt, which was now how Flora thought of her, had gone out of her way to make her feel welcome, but her husband and his daughter eyed her with contempt.

  ‘So, you’re Constance, are you?’ Magnus Ward was a tall well-made man with a shock of snow-white hair and grey eyes, and from the moment he set eyes on his guest he made no attempt to make her feel welcome.

  His daughter, who looked to be in her mid to late twenties, was like a pale female version of him, and Flora wasn’t at all surprised to learn that she was unmarried. She certainly wasn’t the prettiest of women. She was very well built and her face was angular. Her mousy brown hair was scraped back into an unbecoming bun on the back of her head, which did nothing to enhance her features, and her grey eyes were cold.

  Suddenly, in their presence, Alex became quiet and jittery and Flora found herself feeling sorry for her.

  ‘Should she be allowed downstairs yet?’ Margaret questioned her.

  ‘Oh, yes, dear. The doctor called in again yesterday and said that a couple of hours a day out of bed shouldn’t hurt her now.’ Her aunt was wringing her hands and Flora frowned. Why did she let them talk to her that way? she wondered. They were addressing her as if she was one of the servants. But she said nothing; it wasn’t her place.

  ‘So, how long do you reckon you’ll be staying?’ Magnus asked bluntly and Flora flushed.

  ‘Er … until I reach my twenty-first birthday and then I can go home.’ Already, even she felt intimidated by the man. He really was extremely rude.

  He sniffed. ‘Hmm.’ Then perching a pair of spectacles on his nose, he shook out the newspaper and began to read as if she wasn’t even there while Margaret sailed out of the room without so much as another glance at her.

  ‘Actually … I think perhaps I’d like to go back to my room, if you don’t mind, Aunt.’ Suddenly Flora felt so in the way she couldn’t wait to get away from him.

  ‘Of course.’ Alex placed her arm about her shoulders and led her away and as they were climbing the stairs she whispered, ‘Don’t mind your uncle. That’s just his way. Margaret is the same. She is his daughter by his first marriage. His first wife died.’

  ‘I see.’ Flora could only imagine what a horrible life Alex must have had with him but she kept her thoughts to herself and once she was back in her room she sighed with relief. From now on she would avoid both Magnus and his daughter whenever she could. But he had highlighted one problem that hadn’t occurred to her before. He had asked when she would be going home, but how could she now? Merry was there taking care of the house and there was no way she could pass herself off as Constance to her. What was she to do?

  Chapter Twelve

  Some days later, Alex summoned her dressmaker to the house to measure Flora and to let her look through some dress patterns.

  ‘She’ll just make you a couple of outfits to wear for now,’ Alex told her. ‘And then when you’re properly well we’ll go on that shopping spree I promised you.’

  Flora’s terrible cough had hung on persistently and although she was now much better than she had been, she was still not fully recovered and she was suffering from terrible nightmares in which she would hear the screams of the dying and see Connie plunging to her death. She would feel the tiny body of the baby who had died in her arms and would wake up in a cold sweat and a tangle of damp bedclothes. Alex had nursed her devotedly and already Flora was more than a little fond of her. She was such a sweet, gentle woman, it was hard to imagine her married to someone like Magnus who was so stern and cold.

  ‘Would you mind very much if I addressed you as Alex rather than Aunt Alex?’ she tentatively asked one day. ‘It’s just that we don’t know each other well and—’

  ‘That would be quite all right,’ Alex assured her with a gentle smile. ‘Once we get to know each other a little more you’ll start to feel better about things. It’s bound to take you a while to get over what happened and get used to living with strange people in a strange house.’

  ‘Alex seems to be a very kind person,’ Flora remarked to Patsy later that day as the g
irl was brushing her hair for her. Being waited on was still taking some getting used to.

  ‘She is,’ Patsy answered. ‘But the master can be, er … a little brusque.’

  ‘I know exactly what you mean.’ Flora nodded in agreement. ‘And I didn’t even know he had a daughter by a previous marriage until I got here. She’s a little abrupt too, isn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, she is.’ Patsy piled Flora’s hair onto the top of her head and started to secure it with pins. She paused as if she was wondering how much she should say but then she went on, ‘She can be a bit of a tartar. She was engaged to be married some years ago, apparently. Rumour had it that he was only marrying her for her money but then he met some other young lady who was just as rich but shall we say … a little better-looking? Miss Margaret isn’t the prettiest of women, is she? Anyway, he broke off the engagement and they reckon she’s been difficult to live with ever since. I feel right sorry for the poor mistress sometimes. Those two rule her with a rod of iron and she can’t seem to do a thing right. Between you and me, I don’t know why she doesn’t just clear off and leave them both to it. Anyone with half an eye can see that she isn’t happy but I suppose she must love him. And he is very wealthy. He owns a huge fleet of ships that sail all over the world, both passenger and cargo.’ She stopped abruptly then, concerned that she had said too much but Flora smiled at her encouragingly.

  ‘Don’t worry. I shan’t repeat anything you’ve told me,’ she promised.

  Once she was dressed, Patsy left the room to get on with her other duties and Flora stood at the window staring thoughtfully out into the street below. Poor Alex. She had been right in her assumption that she wasn’t happy. But why did she stay then? she wondered. She didn’t seem like the sort of woman who would stay with a man simply because he was rich. Whatever the reason she had already decided that the couple were completely unsuited. Today she was wearing one of the day dresses that Alex’s dressmaker had had delivered to her the day before and so she decided to go downstairs to see if she could find something to read. She was getting rather bored of staying in her bedroom now. Luckily at the bottom of the stairs she bumped into Alex who had been on her way upstairs to check on her.