“I...see,” was all Lady Forrestal managed to say.
Blair wrinkled her brow. “Did Lady Bayington not tell you about her husband’s bequeath?”
The blank look on Lady Forrestal’s face gave her away. “She might have. Yes, I believe she did.” Lady Forrestal looked again at the man now leaning against the wall and turned back to Blair. “I best join my husband. I do hope we shall become the best of friends.”
“As do I.” Blair nodded, watched her walk away, and then turned back around to face the ocean. They were farther from land that she thought, and before long she would not be able to see it at all. The seagulls were gone too, she noticed.
“I quite admire Lord Bayington’s foresight,” said Claymore, moving to stand on the other side of Blair.
Blair giggled, and glanced around to make certain no one else was standing nearby. “Tis Laura’s idea. She claims the lads in search of a wife for no other reason than to gain an inheritance, shall not be inclined to wait until I am thirty.”
Claymore chuckled, “I suspect not. I am grieved I did not think of it for my daughter’s sake.”
Standing on the other side of her, Abigail asked. “Why did you let that woman question you? It is clearly none of her business.”
“Because it is bound to come up sooner or later. Father and I talked about it for hours and hours, and we decided it was best to get it over with at the first opportunity. He was right and I find I am quite relieved.” Blair paused. “I confess, however, I dinna think questions about my mother would begin so soon.”
“I hoped you could avoid the subject completely,” Abigail said.
“How could I? Everyone says I look just like her. Hopefully, Lady Julia Forrestal shall spread the word, and I shall be spared having to answer a thousand more questions on the subject.”
“I have no doubt you shall have your wish,” Abigail huffed. “Lady Forrestal looks to be the worst kind of gossip. If this is an example of London Society, I wish to forgo the entire season.”
“And have no wild and exciting gossip to tell everyone upon our return home?” Claymore asked. “That day shall never come.”
Abigail ignored him as usual, “As soon as we see Laura, I intend to fully enquire as to her opinion of Lady Julia Forrestal of the London Forrestals. I doubt she has even made Laura’s acquaintance. Of all the nerve,” Abigail went on. “It is all Alexandra’s fault and if your mother were yet alive, I would murder her.”
Claymore walked around Blair, took his wife’s hand, and wrapped it around his arm. “Have we had enough of the sea air yet? I find myself suffering great thirst.”
“But you shall not see to your thirst in the poker room, agreed?” Abigail asked as she also took Blair’s arm.
“I agree to no such thing,” Claymore said. “While you are about meeting London’s society and forming your opinions, I must have something to do.”
Abigail lifted her chin. “I have no desire whatsoever to mingle with any of them, particularly the detestable Lady Forrestal.”
“My love,” he said as he reached for the door handle, “I am quite certain that before this day is over, you shall find at least one, or perhaps a hundred new acquaintances aboard this ship.” He winked at Blair and then followed the women inside.
WHILE THE WHITFIELDS went to see about their accommodations, which were necessarily situated right next door, Blair went to hers. When she opened the door, she was surprised to find a ship’s chambermaid already unpacking her things.
Dressed in a dark blue uniform with a white cap and apron, the maid quickly curtsied. “I am Lucy Quinn, Miss, sent to see to your necessities.”
Blair smiled. “I thank you, then.”
Lucy returned her smile, reached in the last traveling case, pulled out a pink ball gown, and carefully hung it in one of two wardrobes positioned on either side of a beautifully hand carved chest of drawers. The closets each had a long built-in mirror. The room was decorated in soft blues and grays, with a splash of red. Upholstered chairs, in a spacious sitting area that took up one half of the room, matched curtains that enclosed the four-poster bed when pulled. Between the chairs sat a table upon which was a bouquet of flowers and a filled cut-glass smoky-blue candy dish complete with lid. White wooden panels on the walls displayed inlaid velvet wallpaper and there was ample electric lighting in several places to please the most avid reader.
Blair went to the window first to see the ocean once more, and then to her traveling case, which was by now nearly empty. “Did you not find a package?” she asked.
“Yes Miss.” The maid opened a closet door, and pointed to the shelf above.
“May I have it. ‘Tis a gift from my father.”
The maid smiled and then handed her a package wrapped in brown paper and tied with a string. Blair took it to the bed, sat down, unwrapped the leather bound book, and then lovingly held it to her chest. It was then she noticed the huge bouquet of flowers and when she went to see, the card was from her father. She grinned, smelled the roses, and then read the card.
My beloved Daughter,
Above all, keep yourself safe until you are back in my arms.
Father
“I promise,” she whispered.
Miss?” Lucy asked.
“Aye?”
“I beg your pardon, but...” she paused, reached in the pocket of her white apron and pulled out a five dollar bill. “I was given a bribe and I shall be in considerable trouble if...”
“A bribe to do what?”
“‘Tis only an introduction.”
Blair puffed her cheeks. “You must not let the lads bribe you, Lucy.”
“It was not a Mr., but a Miss.”
“Truly?”
“You will not tell will you, for it is frowned upon.”
“Nay, I shall not tell – if you promise never to take a bribe again where I am concerned.”
Relieved, Lucy smiled. “I promise.”
“Good, now who is the Miss who bribed you?”
“She is Miss Robinson of London. Shall I fetch her?”
“She wishes to come here – to my stateroom?”
Lucy nodded. “She wishes to speak to you in private, if you are willing.”
“I see. Very well, then.”
As soon as Lucy put the last of her gowns away and closed the closets, she hurried out the door. Blair smelled the roses her father sent once more, set her book on the table, and then checked the bathroom. It was small, but seemed clean enough to suit even her Aunt Leesil. Next to the bathroom was a dressing table with excellent lighting.
CHAPTER 2
AT THE KNOCK ON THE door, Blair said, “Come in.”
The young woman swiftly stepped inside, urgently closed the door behind her, and drew in a deep breath. “You must pretend we have not met until after we are formally introduced.”
Blair stared, as the stranger went to the closet, opened the door, and began to examine each of Blair’s gowns. “Why not?”
“Ah, this red one is exquisite.” The stranger paused only briefly before she answered, “Because my mother has seen you. You are to be presented, are you not?” She closed the door and not so very gracefully plopped down in one of the two tall back, winged Edwardian chairs.
“Aye.”
“So am I, but my mother has seen you, you see.”
Completely confused, Blair more properly sat in the chair opposite her guest. “I fear I am quite lost in this conversation.”
“Just look at me, Miss MacGreagor. I am painfully thin, and I have a simple, although some say a pleasant face – where as you are quite becoming – beautiful in fact.”
Blair folded her arms. “Can you not be more specific?”
The young woman slouching in the chair tried to think of a more concise explanation. “Mother wishes me to marry a duke or at least a lord. She would even settle for a viscount or a baron, so long as he has money and a title. But how can I compete with you? However, if we become great friends and atte
nd the balls together, I can possibly... To put it bluntly, you see, Mother says I am to settle for your castoffs.”
Blair slowly smiled. “Then you are in luck for I dinna wish to marry and therefore, every lad I meet shall be a castoff. As far as I am concerned, you may have them all.”
An expression of extreme relief crossed the stranger’s face. “I knew I would like you the moment I saw the shocked look on Lady Forrestal’s face. What on earth did you tell her?”
“Nothing inappropriate, I assure you. I simply confessed to being Alexandra Sinclair’s daughter.”
The young woman’s mouth dropped. “That Alexandra Sinclair? The one in that book...oh what was the name of it? Oh yes, The Scandalous Affairs of Alexandra Sinclair?”
“The very same. You have read it?”
“Twice, although not with mother’s permission.” The girl lifted her chin a little. “She says we are not to be tainted by your mother’s wild imaginings.”
Blair giggled. “Tis the first I heard them called imaginings.”
“Is it true she had seven husbands?”
Again Blair giggled. “I dinna think anyone knows how many for certain.”
“That’s a pity. I love a mystery, but only if I can discover the conclusion.”
Blair suddenly wrinkled her forehead. “Once your mother learns who I am, do you still suppose she shall want the two of us introduced?”
The young woman lifted the candy dish off the end table, took off the lid, helped herself to a piece of caramel, and stuck it in her mouth. “She insists upon it.”
“I rather doubt that,” said Blair. “Who are you?”
“Oh, I am Harriet Louise Robinson. My friends call me Robin, save for mother, who is not always a friend.”
“Should I dread meeting her?”
“You already have. She is Lady Julia Forrestal. I am the issue of her first husband whom she charitably calls a cad of the worst kind.”
“I see. In that case she knows precisely who I am.”
“And I dare say, has told everyone else by now. Will you be dining downstairs or up?”
“I am not certain. I have yet to see the rest of the ship.”
“Well, worry not. Mother shall find you and see that we are properly introduced. Where do you live?”
“Colorado.”
“Where is that?”
“In the middle of the United States. We traveled by train to New York, although we feared we would not make it there in time. A spring snow storm in the Midwest delayed us. As it was, we were late getting to the hotel and then I was too excited to get a good night’s rest.”
“Well, you do not look all wrung out.”
“Thank you.”
Robin thoughtfully smoothed the front of her yellow and white print frock. “I know very little about America. How old are you?”
“I am nearly eighteen.”
“The same as me. We shall have lots of time to chat later, but for now I must not let Mother miss me for long.” Robin swiftly stood up and then dashed out the door as abruptly as she came in.
AFTER BLAIR FINISHED letting Lucy help her dress for dinner and emerged from her room, she discovered the Whitfields in the hallway waiting for her. “I hope you have not been waiting long.”
“Not at all,” Abigail answered.
Claymore just rolled his eyes and then winked at Blair. “Shall we?”
“Please. I am starved,” Blair answered.
First, the steward in the hallway stared at her as she walked past, and then the elevator operator gawked so openly, he could hardly think which button to push. Blair paid no attention to either of them, but she did notice Claymore becoming a bit irritated.
They stepped out of an elevator situated next to the grand staircase, and into a plush dining salon filled with the pleasing aroma of freshly cooked meals. At the tables sat well-dressed people, most of whom seemed to be older or were married couples with children. Only a few, Blair noticed, appeared to be single and closer to her age.
The RMS Mauretania held a multi-level first-class dining saloon, with lavish French décor, hand carved adornments on the round wooden tables and matching upholstered chairs. On the walls above the marble inlay floor hung magnificent tapestries, and above them was a skylight dome large enough to take Blair’s breath away. On each end of the room, two gigantic chandeliers hung from the ceiling, illuminating the room with a soft, relaxing glow.
As soon as he noticed them, a steward with menus in his hands came to greet them. “I am David,” he said bowing more to Blair than to the Whitfields. A tall rather lanky young man of seventeen with blond hair, David tried not to stare, but he could not take his eyes off her. “Will there be any others dining with you this evening?”
Annoyed, Claymore cleared his throat until the steward managed to notice him. “Just the three of us, and I prefer a table where we shall not likely be disturbed.”
“Very well, right this way.”
That’s when it happened.
Blair and the Whitfields followed as David led the way toward a table in the back of the room and as they passed each table, forks hung in the air, glasses stopped clinking, and dinner guests halted conversations in mid-sentence. The room fell so uncommonly silent that kitchen workers could be heard when David pulled a chair away from the table and seated Blair.
As soon as Abigail was seated, a stern Claymore took it upon himself to return their stares. Eyes immediately dropped, forks began to move, and a low murmur steadily grew louder.
David was horrified. He waited until Claymore sat down, handed out the menus, and said, “If you should need anything, just...”
“Yes, yes,” Claymore interrupted, “we know young man.” He waved the steward away with his hand, scooted his chair up to the table, and then covered Blair’s hand with his. “I do so apologize for their abominable behavior.”
“Mr. Whitfield, you need not fret. My plan worked, you see, for Lady Forrestal has spread the word just as I hoped she would. Now I shan’t have to explain to anyone.”
“How very kind of Lady Forrestal,” Abigail sarcastically muttered.
Blair laughed. “Yes it is. Now, you see, I can look forward to fully enjoying the rest of the voyage.”
“Good girl,” Claymore said, lovingly patting her hand and then removing his. “You do look very nice this evening. Are your accommodations acceptable?”
“Indeed they are.” She stopped talking when David handed Blair a folded note. Claymore was about to pounce on him when Blair held up her hand and turned to David. “Please inform the captain, that in the future I shall find being given unsolicited notes most insulting.” She handed the note back unread and when he nodded, she graced him with a smile and did not bother to watch who he gave the note back to. Instead, she opened the menu and found that it offered an eleven course meal.
“Bravo,” Abigail whispered.
“Brave on the outside, but not so brave on the inside,” Blair said without taking her eyes off the menu.
Abigail puffed her cheeks. “I could hang your mother for this.”
Blair giggled. “Miss Abigail, if she yet lives and if we could find her, I would help you.”
They had not been seated long enough to even give David their order before Lady Forrestal and her daughter stepped out of the elevator. As soon as she spotted them, Lady Forrestal hurried across the room to the Whitfield’s table. Reluctantly, Claymore stood up.
As soon as Blair saw who it was, she put her hand on Abigail’s arm. “Please say nothing of what just happened.” Before Abigail could ask why, Lady Julia Forrestal was standing in front of her.
“My dear Miss MacGreagor,” said Lady Forrestal, “I do hope you forgive the intrusion, but I so want you to meet my daughter, Lady Harriet Louise Robinson of the York Robinsons.”
“Call me Robin,” the daughter said as she grinned at Blair.
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” said Blair. “May I present Mr. and Mrs. Whitfield of t
he Colorado Whitfields.” She saw Abigail and Claymore exchange confused glances, but they said nothing. “Robin, would you care to join us for dinner?”
“What?” Abigail gasped.
“May I?” Robin sweetly asked her mother. “I so dread another of your husband’s political ramblings.”
“Well,” said Lady Forrestal, pretending to give it some thought. “I see no reason to deny you a new friend or two.”
“Thank you, Mother.” Like magic, David arrived with another chair and a menu. He seated Robin, smiled at Blair, ignored Claymore’s frown, and then scurried away.
Lady Forrestal nodded first to Claymore and then to Abigail,” It is a pleasure meeting you again, but I must not keep my husband waiting.”
Robin watched as her mother walked back to the elevator and disappeared inside before she remembered to breathe. “There, that is done. You pulled it off quite marvelously, Blair.”
“I thought so too,” Blair admitted.
“Pulled what off,” Abigail wanted to know as she set her menu aside, unfolded her napkin, and spread it on her lap.
There was a twinkle in Blair’s eyes as she answered, “Lady Forrestal hopes I shall help Robin find a worthy husband.”
“How?” Claymore asked, finally retaking his seat.
Robin grinned. “She imagines one of Blair’s castoffs might find me pleasing.”
“Of which there shall be many,” Blair added.
“I see,” said Abigail, “but is that not just a little devious?”
“Not at all,” Robin said. “It is flat out trickery! But oh what fun we shall have, if for no other reason than to keep my mother well entertained.”
“Precisely when did the two of you conjure up this conspiracy?” Claymore asked. “We have been aboard ship but a few hours.”
“Robin came to see me in my stateroom,” Blair answered.
“It was quite clandestine of me, was it not?” Robin whispered.
“Clandestine meetings and trickery? I rather like the idea,” Claymore admitted. “What does your father have to say about this trickery, as you put it?”
Beloved Lies, Book 2 Page 2