A Shop Girl at Sea

by Rachel Brimble

  He looked into her eyes and Amelia could have sworn she witnessed a flash of disappointment before he smiled. ‘Leave it to me.’

  He moved her towards the group of women and Amelia’s heart raced. What was he doing? They hadn’t even discussed a strategy.

  ‘Good evening, ladies. I’m Officer Murphy. How are you enjoying your voyage so far?’

  Amelia stood frozen as their gazes none too subtly roamed over Officer Murphy’s face and person. Amelia continued to smile but found their stares openly judgemental and condescending.

  ‘Oh, I apologise, might I introduce Miss Amelia Wakefield. She is travelling to New York for business.’

  ‘Business?’ Harriet Culford’s eyes widened. ‘Well, aren’t you a modern woman, Miss Wakefield. Can I ask the nature of your business?’

  Amelia took a long breath, knowing her response could equally provoke a good or bad reaction. She had no idea how Harriet Culford’s relationship fared with her siblings and Esther. ‘I work for Pennington’s in Bath.’

  ‘Oh, my goodness. Well, that’s wonderful.’ Harriet laughed. ‘My sister, Cornelia, works there. As did my sister-in-law, Esther, until she left to have her baby. Perhaps you know of them?’

  ‘I do. In fact, Esther mentors me. Everything I have learned about window dressing, fashion and accessories came from Esther. I adore her.’

  ‘Oh, then you must join our party this evening.’ Harriet slid her arm into Amelia’s, pulling her away from Officer Murphy. ‘We’ll have the most wonderful time. If you’ll excuse us, Officer Murphy, we ladies have much to discuss. Good evening.’

  He nodded and stepped back. ‘Of course.’

  Amelia held his gaze, mouthing a ‘thank you’ before she was pulled away. He smiled and she could have sworn his gaze remained on her back until she was out of sight. Yet, instead of shame and unease, rare attraction sped her heart – and that surprised her more than anything Harriet Culford might have to tell her.

  Eighteen

  By the time Samuel reached the second-class card lounge, there were only a few gentlemen remaining, cognac and cigars in hand, conversation pleasantly low. Luxuriant in its wood-panelled décor, the lounge was lit by glass domed wall sconces, music from the string quartet in the next room drifting through the gilded-double doors.

  No matter how hard he tried to stop thinking about Amelia Wakefield, she continued to linger in his mind. He liked her spunk. Her independence. Her beauty. In fact, the depth of his interest in her had made him decidedly uncomfortable. His life had always been filled with too much worry, responsibility and work to consider romance. Now he was aboard a ship that could offer a life-changing opportunity – should he choose to take it – yet, instead of concentrating on whether or not to stay in America, his attention had been captured by a beautiful and mysterious woman.

  Ladies had come and gone in Samuel’s life. He was no saint, but honourable, he hoped. Mutual assignations followed by mutual separation. No heartbreak. No broken promises. That was all he had been capable of… all he was capable of.

  So, why was it bothering him that he’d left Miss Wakefield in the clutches of strangers?

  Because now her wellbeing felt like his responsibility, that’s why.

  She had an unusual and intriguing aura of vulnerability and strength, wisdom and uncertainty, that struck at something deep inside of him. Whatever it was, it made Samuel want to spend more time with her, to talk to her and get to know her.

  He strolled through the lounge, glancing with disinterest at the games being played and the money changing hands. He could never afford to gamble the money he earned and considered the men who did complete fools.

  Every penny he earned would always be accounted for, needed. Or else, spent wisely.

  His shift had finished ten minutes ago and as he made his way back to the cabin he shared with Archie, Samuel tried to banish thoughts of Miss Wakefield and, instead, pondered New York.

  Since his discussion with Archie and Harold, Samuel had tried to bury any possibility of staying in New York, citing the notion as ridiculous and impractical. Yet, wasn’t Archie right in that Samuel had no set-in-stone obligation to return home? Morally, his selfishness, should he stay in America, could be assuaged by regularly sending money home, but that wouldn’t lessen his mother’s emotional need of him. Maybe without him there, Katherine and Fiona would think about finding their own employment and showing their mother some kindness and consideration.

  Just as Samuel was leaving the card lounge, Mr Weir strode past him, his face etched with concern, his gaze manically flitting from side to side as though searching for someone.

  Samuel immediately tensed. Hadn’t Miss Wakefield returned to her cabin? He glanced at the wall clock. He’d left her over an hour ago.

  Worry clenched like a fist in Samuel’s gut and he hurried after Weir. ‘Excuse me, sir. Mr Weir?’

  The other man halted. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Is anything the matter? Only you seem—’

  ‘Yes. As a matter of fact, I am looking for my ward. Miss Wakefield. I’m sure you wouldn’t remember her, but—’

  ‘I remember her quite clearly. Slim, dark, brown hair. Pretty.’

  Mr Weir arched an eyebrow. ‘Quite. However, when I knocked on her cabin door to check her safely abed for the night, the young woman sharing with Miss Wakefield confirmed she had not returned since before dinner. I agreed that she might take a walk about the ship but have not seen her since.’

  Samuel glanced towards the doors. ‘I see. Would you like me to look—’

  ‘How am I to sleep tonight without knowing she is all right? My employers expect me to ensure she comes to no harm—’

  ‘Allow me to help you locate her, sir.’ Samuel smiled, trying to hide his anxiety. The last thing Amelia would want was Weir venturing into first class and embarrassing her. ‘Maybe she has become lost. It is easily done, considering the maze of corridors, cabins and suites. What is your cabin number, sir? If I find her, I will ensure she lets you know she is safe and well.’

  Weir continued to look about the decking, his brown eyes shadowed with worry, which, rightly or wrongly, reassured Samuel that the man wasn’t quite the arse he’d thought him when they’d met previously.

  ‘I’m in cabin E-78 and Miss Wakefield’s cabin is directly opposite.’

  ‘Good. Then I will go in the opposite direction from you and between us, rest assured, we will find her.’

  Samuel headed along the deck and straight for the grand staircase. It was already common knowledge among the staff that the first-class passengers were prone to going to bed much later than most of the other passengers. Their demands were higher, their capacity for alcohol consumption somewhat astounding, and their need for gossip and eavesdropping even more so.

  He marched along, his boots stomping on the promenade planks, his eyes peeled for Miss Wakefield’s distinctive hair. Sometimes brown, sometimes bronze, sometimes caramel, it was her hair that had initially attracted him. Since he’d seen her smile, her eyes lighting with mischief and possibility, he was more attracted to her than ever.

  And now his heart was thundering that she could be missing, hurt or lost.

  He sucked in a breath against the dropping temperatures and rubbed his hands together. At least there was little chance of her being outside. Her evening gown was low-cut and of a light gauzy material. She would be frozen to the bone should she be out here for any amount of time.

  Yet, there were more couples and groups of gentlemen walking back and forth than he expected, their chatter subdued as the hour neared midnight. Samuel’s concern deepened. There were no groups of women huddled together as there had been earlier in the evening. Understandably, most would have been in bed at such a late hour. So where was Miss Wakefield?

  He headed back to the grand staircase and descended quickly, scanning the area around him. Finally, he emerged onto E-deck and headed for her cabin in the hope she had returned.

  Finding Mr Weir
’s cabin, he put his ear to the cabin door opposite and heard quiet weeping.

  Was it Amelia? Her roommate? Now what? Did he knock?

  He gently tapped on the door. ‘Miss Wakefield. It’s Officer Murphy. Are you all right?’

  The weeping immediately stopped.

  Samuel strained his hearing and tapped on the door again. ‘There’s no need for alarm. Only, Mr Weir is looking for you and I wanted to make sure you are all right.’

  ‘I’m fine, thank you, Officer.’ Amelia’s voice urgently whispered from close behind the door. ‘If you could tell Mr Weir I am in my cabin, I would very much appreciate it. Good night.’

  ‘Are you quite sure? Only—’

  ‘Quite sure.’ Her voice cracked. ‘Good night.’

  Samuel stared at the door. He couldn’t leave her without at least seeing her face. If someone had upset her…

  He stood back from the door and paced a few steps, his hand in his hair. He’d already witnessed a nervousness in her eyes and the last thing he wanted was to sabotage the improvement in their association.

  The sound of the lock being turned halted his pacing.

  Slowly, her door opened just a crack, then a little further until she peered out.

  Her gaze met his and widened. ‘Oh. I was just—’

  ‘Making sure I had gone?’ He smiled, hoping to reassure her that he meant no harm. ‘I’m glad to see you are all right.’

  ‘Officer Murphy, you must go,’ she hissed. ‘I am quite all right, and my companion is sleeping.’

  She moved to shut the door. Samuel reached out, placing his hand firmly on the door. ‘I heard you crying.’

  Her cheeks turned pink and her throat moved as she swallowed. What in God’s name had happened since he’d left her?

  Why the hell had he left her?

  She tightened her hand at the collar of her nightgown. ‘I had some unwanted attention from a gentleman as I was walking back to my cabin. I dealt with the situation, but it has left me somewhat shaken. There is nothing to concern yourself about.’

  Fury bubbled in Samuel’s chest as he studied her, looking for any signs the bastard had touched her. ‘Did he—’

  ‘He grabbed me a little too tightly, but I managed to free myself and he walked away once I threatened to scream.’ Her eyes hardened as she stood a little straighter. ‘He’s gone and I’m ready for bed. So, good night—’

  ‘My name’s Samuel, Miss Wakefield.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  He took a single step closer, wanting to delay their parting, wanting her to know she could trust him. ‘My name’s Samuel. If there is anything I can do, anything at all during the remainder of this voyage, I want you to seek me out. I need for you to promise me you’ll do that.’

  Slowly, she nodded. ‘I will. Thank you… Samuel.’

  He smiled to hide his rage at the faceless bastard who’d frightened her. ‘You’re welcome. Good night, Miss Wakefield.’

  ‘Good night.’

  Samuel backed away along the corridor, his head reeling and his heart just a little too affected by Amelia Wakefield’s distress. Just the thought of her being afraid or even merely shaken irritated him enough that he couldn’t seem to unclench his fists as they swung at his sides. This was a ship of superior class, yet it seemed the same macho presumptions existed here as they did on the Southampton docks.

  Well, as long as Miss Wakefield was aboard, she would now be under his careful watch.

  Nineteen

  Ruby descended Pennington’s grand staircase, her steps unsteady under the weight of the dresses draped over her arm and the hats she carried in each hand. She nodded genially to customers as they swarmed past her in an endless stream. The store’s Titanic window had caused quite the furore, and there had been a marked increase in the store’s footfall over the last couple of days.

  Pride filled her for the small part she’d played in the window’s success.

  As she headed for the stairs leading to the basement level design department, she looked around her and her smile vanished when she spotted Victoria speaking with an elderly lady and gentleman close by.

  She had been purposely avoiding her for days and quickly dipped her head.

  The cut and bruise on her cheek had blossomed into a rather fetching grey-yellow colour, accented by an ugly red scab. Her mother’s mistreatment was more noticeable than ever and, where her design colleagues had been polite enough to withhold comment, if Victoria managed to corner Ruby she would undoubtedly insist on an explanation.

  She quickly ducked deeper into the crowds, the myriad of bodies her cover. Having evaded Victoria, she breathed a little easier until Miss Pennington stepped into her path.

  ‘Miss Taylor, could I possibly delay you for a moment?’

  Inwardly cursing, Ruby halted and forced a smile. ‘Miss Pennington, of course. Can I help you with something?’

  Her employer’s smile faltered as her gaze lingered on Ruby’s cheek before she met her eyes, her smile widening too much to be sincere. ‘Yes, I would like to speak with you and Mrs Lark once she’s finished speaking to those customers.’

  ‘Mrs Lark?’ Ruby swallowed against the immediate dryness in her throat. ‘Are you unhappy with how I’ve represented Accessories in the latest window?’

  ‘Oh, no. Not at all. I’m very happy.’ Miss Pennington raised her hand. ‘Mrs Lark? Could I speak with you for a moment?’

  Victoria turned from the elderly couple and said something before heading towards Ruby. Ruby’s heart picked up speed. With her hands full, she had no way of hiding her face. Sweat broke out along her spine as she prayed Victoria stemmed her inevitable concern in front of Miss Pennington.

  ‘Yes, Miss Pennington? Good afternoon, Miss Taylor.’ Victoria’s smile diminished as her gaze landed on Ruby’s bruise.

  Ruby quickly shook her head and widened her eyes, warning Victoria to keep her counsel. Victoria stared at Ruby a moment longer before facing Miss Pennington. ‘How can I help, Miss Pennington?’

  ‘I’m so glad I caught you both. I’d very much like you to work together on a new project. As Esther and Amelia will be away from the store for a while, I thought this the perfect time to give you a chance of creating a design of your own, Miss Taylor. Would you be open to the challenge?’

  ‘Of course.’ Ruby relaxed her shoulders, her concerns about her injury momentarily vanishing. ‘I’d be delighted.’

  ‘Wonderful. Then I’d like you to combine your design skills with Mrs Lark’s expertise in accessories and devise a central atrium display.’ Elizabeth looked across the crowded space. ‘It’s been too long since we have had something to stop customers in their tracks when they come through the door. To my mind, nothing catches a woman’s attention more than accessories. I am thinking fans, parasols, sashes, belts, purses, gloves… and anything else you might think appropriate.’

  Despite the heat of Victoria’s stare burning into Ruby’s temple, a rush of excitement stirred in her abdomen. This was the first time Miss Pennington had approached her for a design task of her own and it meant the world. To be valued and noticed at work mattered so much, and went a long way in eliminating her mother’s criticism.

  ‘Well, Miss Taylor?’ Miss Pennington raised her eyebrows. ‘Do you think you could come up with a design that Mrs Lark could bring to life? I want as much merchandise on display as possible. A big glass counter will be installed in the very centre, circular in design and directly in line with the front doors. That way, customers will have to walk around it in order to reach the stairs. It will be impossible to miss.’

  ‘It sounds wonderful.’ Ruby’s imagination filled with possibilities at this chance to shine. She might one day be considered for a pay increase if she impressed Miss Pennington. ‘When would you like my ideas to be presented to you?’

  ‘As soon as possible.’ Miss Pennington addressed Victoria. ‘Would you be free to discuss some preliminary ideas with Miss Taylor now? I know it’s short notice, but it
would be good if we can set to work today. I’ll swap around some girls so that Accessories is sufficiently staffed.’

  ‘Of course.’ Victoria stared at Ruby, her green eyes filled with a persistent concern. ‘I can come along with you to the design department now, if you like?’

  Ruby swallowed, her smile strained. ‘Wonderful.’

  ‘Perfect, then I’ll leave you to it,’ Miss Pennington said, before she hurried away in the direction of Accessories.

  Victoria immediately gripped Ruby’s elbow. ‘What on earth happened to your face? Did a man do that to you? Did someone strike you?’

  ‘No. Yes, but—’

  ‘What happened?’

  Ruby nervously glanced over Victoria’s shoulder, her arms aching under the weight of the clothes she was carrying. ‘Not here. Let’s go to the design department.’

  Leaving Victoria to follow, Ruby walked towards the staff stairs as shame burned hot inside her. Dislike towards her mother rose on a tangible wave that Ruby must now bear the humiliation of confessing to Victoria just how bad things were becoming at home.

  Tears pricked her eyes, but Ruby defiantly blinked them back.

  She was not to blame for her mother’s outbursts, her drinking or her sleeping with whichever Tom, Dick or Harry she invited back to the house. Every ounce of neglect, abuse and insult towards her children was her mother’s fault alone.

  To hell with her.

  Ruby pushed open the design department’s swing door and marched towards her station at the back of the room, carefully placing the hats on two stands before hanging the dresses on a mobile rack.

  Drawing on every ounce of her minimal pride, she crossed her arms and faced Victoria. ‘Before I explain anything, I do not want your sympathy. Is that clear?’

  Victoria raised her eyebrows, irritation clear in her eyes. ‘If I choose sympathy or anger, that is entirely up to me. What I won’t abide is not hearing the truth. Who hurt you?’