Adene nodded. She could not bear what this girl had suffered so young in life; did she have anyone left? How had she even rustled the money to afford this journey? It was likely why they hadn’t eaten; they wouldn’t have had any money, not on whatever pittance the girl would have had access to. And Nora … what had Nora suffered? Losing two parents in such quick succession? Isla was barely coping with the loss of her father. How was Nora able to survive? “Of course. He and his best friend went to war, and he lost his kinsman. He returned home to be shunned by his second family. And you … oh, my dear girl. The losses you have suffered.”
Claire shrugged. “It is God’s will, and we cannot fight it.” Her tone did not match her sentiment; Adene would not be surprised if she were wrangling with her faith since she lost more than one person.
Adene struggled with her faith daily, reminding herself not to curse God for taking her dear Robert away from her. She couldn’t deny her faith in Him had been rattled. She didn’t understand why she needed to be tested, or why Robert needed to be taken.
The quartet arrived at the galley just as stewards were opening it; piles of food were laid out, ready for a banquet.
Adene saw that today they were serving rabbit stew, roast beef with brown onion gravy, boiled potatoes and greens, rice soup with bread and butter, sweet corn, biscuits and gravy (that looked to Adene as if someone had mistakenly poured white sauce over scones, a disastrous mistake if true, and not something she wished to sample), and fruit pudding with warm custard. I never want to leave this ship, Adene thought. Even without Robert at her side, it was one of the happiest moments of her life, knowing that every night, her and her daughter were going to bed in a warm cabin, with fresh sheets, a washbasin that let freshwater (and collected by a maid), with full bellies, was more than she could ever have hoped to achieve on her own.
“Oh my gosh,” Claire whispered, and Adene noticed the almost frenzied look in her eye. She had been right in her previous assessment; the girl had likely never had a full belly, a proper meal. “I’ve never seen such an abundance of food. And we … we can just have as much as we like?”
“Yes. And you’re welcome to seconds and thirds, as well. Plenty of the men do. And today’s menu is positively delightful,” agreed Adene. Claire, who was in front of Adene in the line, bent down to her niece to ask what she’d like. It appeared Nora was not quite as fussy as her daughter, seemingly wanting everything, even the biscuit (scone, thought Adene) with the thick white gravy (huge mistake). Claire had the wisdom not to oblige Nora’s request, but piled her plate high with rabbit stew, bread and butter, potatoes and green beans, insisting that, once Nora had eaten her fill, she could return for fruit pudding and custard – two things the little girl had never experienced.
Adene could not help but feel shame; she and Isla had suffered since Robert’s passing, but it was as if the two girls in front of her had only ever known a lifetime of suffering. They both appeared malnourished, and she was sure Claire’s food knowledge wasn’t that much more extensive than her niece’s. After they filled their plates high, they led their charges to one of the long wooden tables that were already quickly filling up. Adene was already finding herself getting used to the vast quantities of food the ship provided, effortlessly eating her fill and then some. She tried to justify it with the meals she’d missed so that Isla could have her fill, but she also felt she was being greedy, taking more than she needed for no further purpose than that she could.
It won’t always be this way, she thought, and her guilt eased. And it never has been this way before, even when things were well. We had our feed, but we had none to waste and little to spare.
Adene was in the process of shovelling rabbit stew and boiled potatoes smeared in butter into her mouth when a handsome young man approached, holding his plate, and taking a seat opposite her companion. Adene frowned; while there wouldn’t be many free seats for long, there were still many, and most of the men kept to themselves, preferring to eat in the Saloon, unless they were travelling with families, which he clearly was not. She found his presence uncommonly familiar, and if it were not for his pale skin and reddish-brown hair that fell in tight curls, below his ears, she would think him one of the Syrian or Italian passengers, as he did not seem to know manners or place. Though there was something about him, Adene realised; looking at him took her breath away, making her heart flutter like a silly schoolgirl. He had a strong, chiselled jaw, and piercing blue eyes. His hair was untamed, but it suited him; he sported a tan and a slight sunburn across his visible collarbone. Adene had never seen a man so muscular before.
It had barely been twenty-four hours and Adene already had learnt the Syrians, who were fleeing their country from persecution, rarely left their rooms. Despite the limitless food the galley offered, they seemed to prefer to cook in their rooms, odd smells of different herbs and spices filling the hallways. Some of the other passengers complained of the foul odours, but Adene thought them harsh; the scents were different, sure, but they were not unwelcome. Sometimes they even made her mouth water, though she hadn’t voiced her opinion as it seemed unwelcome.
“Cillian!” gushed Claire, her face glowing, and Adene realised her mistake; he wasn’t a rude (but dashingly handsome) Italian; he was the man Claire had spoken of, her brother’s best friend. Adene could understand Claire’s enthusiasm. If her older brother’s best friend shared Cillian’s looks, she’d want to throw her arms around his neck, too.
“Claire,” he said, his Irish accent thicker than Claire’s. Gruffer. Like he was from the North, though he couldn’t be, as he’d lived in the same village as Claire. “Miss, uh,” his blues stared into Adene’s awkwardly, as if he wasn’t sure how to ask for a lady’s name.
“Mrs Coffey,” Adene responded, smiling brightly. It must be joyous for Claire to be rekindled with someone that was like kin to her. “And this is my daughter, Isla.”
“Nice to meet you Mrs Coffey, Isla,” Cillian said, though Adene had to strain to make his words out. She wished his voice, gravely and rough, was smooth and soft like Claire’s. It was a handsome voice, but one she struggled to properly understand. “Hi, Nora,” he said, this time lowering his voice. While quieter, his voice wasn’t any sweeter. “Do you remember me? It’s been a little while.”
Nora looked up at him intently, her big brown eyes wide. Despite her silence, she had mostly been eating as if she hadn’t had a proper meal in years, which Adene imagined was likely true. Now, however, she had reverted to sucking her thumb.
“She doesn’t always speak,” Claire whispered, lowing her eyes as if she were ashamed. Adene was surprised; she had been unaware of this. She’d been quiet, but she’d talked to Isla about Abigail as they’d made their way through Scotland Road.
“That’s okay,” Cillian replied. “And it’s okay if you don’t remember me, Nora. It’s been a little while since I saw you. But later, you might remember that I stayed, for a little while, with your Gramma and Granpa. You were but a wee baby then, but I see you’re already turning into a fine wee girl.” Nora removed her thumb, and smiled so broadly she revealed her missing bottom tooth.
“You were Uncle Patrick’s friend,” the little girl declared, and the reaction from both Claire and Cillian was instantaneous; Claire looked as if she’d seen a ghost, her face pale and ghastly white; Cillian looked as if he’d been punched, his face turning a distinct shade of reddish-purple.
“Yes, that’s right,” he whispered, and Adene noted that he sounded more than sad. Fear, perhaps? Maybe he wondered if Claire would shun him, like her parents had.
“Uncle Patrick is in heaven, like Ma and Da,” Nora told him knowingly.
“Yes, he is, sweet girl,” Cillian replied, smiling sadly.
After a moment of silence, for which Adene was grateful because she imagined that both Cillian and Claire were reeling from Nora’s seemingly harmless comments; there was no way the little girl adequately understood death, no matter how much she had suffered in
her short life. She knew her daughter kept expecting her Dad to return, though he never would. She imagined Nora much the same.
“I’ve missed you,” Claire said softly, and Adene smiled, though Cillian looked aghast. For the first time, Adene wondered if Claire shared brotherly affection for her older brother’s best friend, or something more.
If he was handsome enough to make Adene forget herself, forget her Robert, she doubted Claire viewed him as a brother.
I know I wouldn’t, Adene lusted. And if the man found Claire a romantic partner, Adene felt it would be a good match. The man had manners, after all. And he was very good-looking.
“It has been a while,” he said awkwardly, glancing at Adene.
“I’m sorry my parents sent you away,” Claire replied, breathless.
Seizing her chance about successfully convincing Claire to watch over Isla tonight, Adene spoke, “Claire, how about I take myself and the little ones over there? We can eat, and then play a game. It’ll give you a chance to catch up properly, without us hanging over your shoulder. If you don’t see us on the Orlop deck, we’ll have returned to the room, should you need to find us. I’ll make sure the girls are down for a nap by two.”
Claire looked as if she might argue, but changed her mind. She smiled gratefully. “Thank you, so much, Adene.”
Adene smiled peacefully, and bid her goodbyes, taking a seat at the end of the table.
Yes, she was sure this would be a wonderful week indeed. Her best one, at least, since Robert’s passing.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Thursday, April 11th, 1912
Claire
Claire ached to reach for Cillian’s hand. It looked sturdy, his hands filled with callouses, and was different from the boy’s hand she once remembered, but she found the strength to hold herself back, resisting temptation. She placed her Ma’s hat – her hat – on the wooden table beside her.
“I understand why they needed me to leave,” Cillian said, though he couldn’t meet Claire’s brown eyes. Perhaps he understood, but it pained him, and she wasn’t sure he forgave them. After all, he had no one, no family. Claire’s family was the only family he had left, and they could not bear the sight of him. Her Ma had screamed, in an un-Catholic way, that she had wished he had died, and her son had lived.
She wished her parents could see that God, who had taken so much from them, was not a cruel lord. He could not intervene at every turn, and He allowed man the freedom to exercise his will. Despite His laws and commandments, He could not prevent man from murdering, not since the time of Cain and Abel. It was the mark men bore; the way women bore the curse of Eve. It was no one’s fault that Cillian had lived where Patrick had not.
“It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t Christian,” retorted Claire, her eyes ablaze. “What Ma said wasn’t right, neither. Paddy would’ve been ashamed.”
“Thank you, Claire Bear,” he said, using his familiar nickname for her. Her entire body glowed that he remembered. He once used to call her so to annoy her; but it had, many years ago, turned into something more sincere, more romantic. “There weren’t many better lads than old Paddy.”
Claire nodded her agreement, but didn’t add to Cillian’s statement. Ofttimes, a mutual silence offered more comfort than frivolous words.
The two, once the formalities had been dispersed, leisurely talked throughout the luncheon, neither making a move to leave the galley until the kitchens were well past closed, and every other passenger had eaten their fill.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Thursday, April 11th, 1912
Eliana
Eliana dressed in an elegant magenta dress, that fell around her legs in differing shades of purple, each layer darker than the first. A small, curtain belt hung low on her left side, and her hair was fastened neatly behind a purple ornament, her curls placed high on her head.
She had heard, through her lady’s maid, that there was to be an extra joining for dinner: The man named Henry Hamilton who captivated her younger sister so. Eliana frowned, finding it peculiar that her father had agreed to pay the extra so that a young man he was unlikely to find enjoyable could join their dinner party. Perhaps he had learnt something she did not; perhaps Cecilia hadn’t mentioned his peerage when she ought to have. “Lee?” she called, holding a hand to her stomach, which looked bloated and pudgy.
“Yes, My Lady?” Lee asked, immediately appearing by her mistress’s side.
“I know I shouldn’t, as I appear to have gained a frightful bit of weight since yesterday docked, but I need you to loosen my corset. I am finding that I can scarcely breathe tonight. After the trip has passed, remind me that I need to begin tightening it, restricting myself from food. Tonight, I need to be able to breathe; something I don’t seem to be able to quite manage.”
“Of course, My Lady,” Lee replied, immediately setting forth with her task.
As she fiddled with Eliana’s outfit, Eliana seized the opportunity to see what gossip her servant had learnt. Undoubtedly, they had already shared the information whenever they’d sat for their servant’s lunch. It was likely Lee knew more of her impending dinner than she did. She likely had dined with the red-head servant girl Celia requested, Wilson, her Mama’s lady’s maid, and Jessop, Georgiana’s. The gossip she would know, Eliana thought with delight. “Pray, do you know why this Mr Hamilton is joining us? Why would Papa wish to spend a pound on him? I’m assuming Papa’s paying his way; I doubt he could afford the extravagance of the Ritz on his own.”
Lee had the look of a deer when it’d caught the scent of a predator’s presence, and Eliana smiled sharply, sensing blood. “I’m not sure I understand the question, My Lady,” though Eliana knew Lee understood her perfectly.
“I’m not in the mood for coyness, Lee. You will tell me what you know, and you will tell me now. You know how I get when I’m in one of my moods. I don’t want you to be the cause.”
“Yes, My Lady,” Lee replied, her eyes darting to the floor. Shame filled her face, as if she did not want to share, but she obeyed her Lady’s command. “Lady Georgiana and Lord William met with Mr Hamilton on the Boat Deck, while he was filming the arrival of the passengers at Queenstown. Lord William apparently became fascinated with the apparatus – I still can’t believe a common man can make moving pictures! Can you imagine anything more glorious? It’s terribly exciting, My Lady – and they asked him to dine with them for elevenses. Your Lord and Lady Father spied them, and they joined as well. Your Lord Father was very interested in the Biograph Company. He said he was fascinated with that Edison chap. I believe Edison is the reason for Mr Hamilton’s invitation, but I don’t think Mr Edison is onboard.”
“Edison?” Eliana crinkled her nose. The man had invented electricity, and while she enjoyed its uses, she wasn’t sure how much it mattered. After all, she had servants to boil her water, and cook her dinner, and change her nightly bowls. They stoked her fire, keeping the rooms of the Wickshire Estate warm, and took care of anything that was needed. She wasn’t sure the man deserved the buzz that followed him; she found he sounded more like a fraud than a man of honour.
“Yes. You know that your father finds certain inventions quite fascinating,” Lee lended. “Regardless, they felt the need to invite him to dinner. When he said he could not afford to pay, Lord Gresham waived him.”
“And what did the others say?” Eliana said, taking a seat at her vanity bureau, rechecking her hair.
“The others, My Lady?”
“I said not to play coy, Lee.”
“They have spoken little,” Lee edged. “It is possible your parents wish to keep an eye on Mr Hamilton, and believe a dinner will suffice in warning both him and Lady Cecilia, but also disperse any rumours about him being in your sister’s acquaintance twice since the ship has docked, if any of the passengers have noticed their wanton familiarity.”
Eliana nodded; it made sense to her that her parents would want to keep an eye on Cecilia.
She smiled, dabbing l
ight gloss on her lips, excited for the night to unfold.
It was likely to be memorable.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Thursday, April 11th, 1912
Eliana
Eliana watched as the young man dined with them; while she couldn’t be sure, he appeared as if he had not changed from the day, wearing a tired grey coat suit and tie. Cecilia looked pleased, Georgiana looked interested, and her parents looked horrified.
Eliana sipped her red wine with pleasure; she could tell by the look donned on her parents’ face that they had not expected him to appear so uncivilised. No one else in The Ritz wore anything less than coattails, with some of the gentlemen in their military uniform.
“Pray, what are you wearing?” Eliana’s father asked, and Eliana took a bigger sip from her glass. When she placed it down, the nearby waiter quickly refilled it, seeing that it was almost empty.
“It’s the best I own, Sir,” Henry said, having the humility to blush.
“It seems rather inappropriate,” he continued, frowning in disapproval. “Had I known your … status … I would not have found it appropriate to extend the invite. You’re not even in black and white.”
This time the man flushed in resentment, and Eliana took a bite from the shrimp pots in front of her. The taste of the delicious creamy garlic warmth flooded her, filling all her senses. Each night, Gatti seemed to impress upon her senses something even more enjoyable than before. Eliana would insist that Lee track down Gatti and find some recipes so that she could take back to her cook. She had installed a fridge and ice refrigerator some months prior, so as long as she provided Mrs Potter with her list, the items should not be difficult to find, and two years earlier, the Wickshire kitchen had been renovated, allowing for electrical points and a larger, double-furnace stove.
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