by Jina Bacarr
Buck prayed he wasn’t wrong in trying to protect Fiona from knowing the truth about Trey. She wanted life to be smooth and orderly and sweet. Trey wasn’t suited for that, but her entire future rested upon this marriage. She was running out of time to save her heritage and Trey provided the perfect solution.
Buck would explain to her later, but for now it was up to him to make the crossing as pleasant as possible.
Which was why he went to her stateroom and didn’t mention a word about Trey.
3
Queenstown, Ireland
10 April 1912
‘Will you be needing a place to stay, lass?’
Ava turned, surprised. An oddly dressed man stood behind her, grinning. Striped jacket and piped trousers with a small bowler hat plopped upon his head. A peddler. How long had he been watching her? She’d thought about waiting on the pier till morning but that was impractical, even for the likes of her. Queenstown wasn’t much more than a village with clapboard houses built on steep terraces with rows of shops along the quays.
She had every right to be cautious.
She was on the run.
She didn’t dare set her feet to walking on the streets lest the local constable spot her. No telling how far Lord Emsy’s influence and threats to send her off to prison reached.
‘I’m leaving in the morning on the Titanic,’ Ava said slowly, wary his type was oft filled with blarney.
‘Florie Sims runs a respectable place next to the bakery and grocery,’ he said. ‘If you don’t mind beady eyes with long tails staring at you.’
‘Is there no other rooming house?’ she asked, curious.
‘Aye, but you can’t beat the tariff at Florie’s. A bed and morning porridge for three shillings a night.’
Ava frowned. After paying for her fare, she had little money left.
‘Florie Sims, you say?’
‘Aye.’ He tipped his bowler to her. ‘Be sure to tell her Jeremiah Cobb sent you.’
He smiled and she tried not to stare at his broken, yellow teeth. Long and pointy.
‘I run a decent house and I don’t take to no spooning with the gents in my place.’
Florie Sims made no secret of her disapproval of the whistles Ava elicited from the men on the stairs as the woman showed her to her room on the second floor. With a baby on her hip and another tugging at her skirts, Ava imagined the outspoken landlady couldn’t afford to be particular about her boarders.
‘This is it?’ Ava said, not hiding her surprise when the landlady opened the door. She swore she saw a man jump out the second-story window onto the roof as they came in. She sniffed and the smell of sweaty bodies filled the air. Seemed the landlady was better at making the rules than enforcing them.
That wasn’t the worst of it. Tiny cots filled the small room lined up next to each other in two rows at least five deep. Peeling wallpaper, a cracked, watermarked ceiling and a large porcelain bowl rimmed with faded rosebuds sat in a corner behind a screen.
A young woman lay atop the narrow bed, pretending to be asleep. No doubt she’d found comfort in the man’s arms and now dreamed of him.
Ava winced as a pang of loneliness hit her. The only time she’d felt a man’s arms around her was when the blacksmith’s son kissed her in the church cemetery. After confession one unforgettable Thursday, the priest caught them and boxed the boy’s ears and made Ava say penance on her knees for hours.
Why is it wrong to want a man’s love?
To want him to touch her, make her dizzy with desire? To yearn for a man who could raise her spirits as high as the heavens?
Such thoughts tormented her, though she prayed hard not to yield to them.
‘What did you expect, lassie?’ Florie said when she saw Ava’s nose wiggle with distaste. ‘A royal manor house?’ She shifted the baby from one hip to the other. ‘I imagine the likes of you have seen your share of fancy bedrooms.’ She chuckled. ‘Take it or leave it. Four shillings a night with hot porridge in the morn.’
‘Jeremiah Cobb quoted me three shillings.’ Ava folded her arms across her chest.
‘So you’re one of Cobb’s girls. I should have known. Three shillings.’ She held out her hand. ‘In advance.’
Ava turned around and unpinned the handkerchief containing her money from inside her chemise. ‘A trusting soul, aren’t you?’
She smirked. ‘I’ve had too many of my boarders disappear out the window come the first breath of dawn.’
It wasn’t the fear of mice or loud snoring that kept Ava awake, but the worrisome fear she’d be found out and sent to the local jail.
A fine mess she was in, hiding out in a dosshouse until morning. Curled up on a cot in the corner of the small room, Ava guessed the other female tenant must be asleep, though she couldn’t see much through the murky darkness. What kind of devil’s underworld went on here when the sun went down, she could only guess.
And the smell.
Slipping her steamship ticket under the hard pillow, she put her head down. The pungent scent from the bedding made her gag, the fibers still damp with the stain of human desire. Ava had no doubt mice were the least of her worries.
She was about to close her eyes when—
A cold hand slipped up her leg and stroked her bare skin.
‘You dirty vermin!’ Ava cried out, jumping up and kicking him. A loud groan assaulted her ears.
‘Leave her alone, Ned,’ she heard a raspy girl’s voice say in the darkness. ‘I got what you’re after.’
‘Why can’t I have a turn with her?’ asked the man, grumbling close by. Too close.
‘Because you’re my beau,’ said the young woman, coming into view. Ava could see her face lit up by the golden glow from the gaslight. And by the unholy, she saw a man grab the girl around the waist and fumble with her petticoat. It must be the same ne’er do well who put his hand up her skirt.
Turn away, Ava my girl, she could hear her mum whispering in her ear, and protect your innocence.
Ava couldn’t stop the fervid thoughts clattering about in her brain. She froze when the girl lit a candle and lifted up her skirts so the boy could see her slender thighs. She looked away. With those two spooning nearby, she’d not close her eyes all night. Morning couldn’t come quick enough for her. Then she’d be off to America. She couldn’t count on anyone but herself to buy her freedom. Anything else was a threat she’d deal with, with her fists if she had to. She held fast to that gratifying thought, sending up a holy prayer to the angels to keep her safe till she got on board the ship. Only then would she have a chance for a better life.
All day and half the night Ava had kept to the dark corners of the lodging house, munching on the scraps she found in the kitchen. Rinsing her mouth out with well water the color of last week’s washing. Looking at her steamship ticket for passage to New York. Over and over again, praying it wouldn’t crumble to dust between her fingers.
She lay her head down on the cot now and reached under the pillow—
‘It’s gone!’ she cried out. How could it disappear? Wait! The girl had boasted about getting what the boy wanted when Ava kicked the sod – it made sense now. She stole her ticket to America. That ticket was all she had to hold onto. No, no! An intense heat filled her, stripping away any shred of civility she had left, spurring her into action when she heard—
Laughter.
So they think I’m weak. No one’s sticking me with a knife to the heart this time.
‘Give me my ticket, now!’ Ava yelled, bolting off the cot and grabbing the lit candle. The arc of light showered the room in an unholy glow as she stood down, facing the girl.
‘Is this what you’re after?’ The troublemaker spat on the floor, and then threw the white ticket into the air, its fluttery descent to earth caught in the candlelight.
Ned snatched it from under Ava’s nose.
‘A steamship ticket, just like the landlady said.’ He sounded impressed. ‘I bet McGinnis will give me two, maybe three pounds for i
t.’
No, no. They couldn’t take her dream away from her. They couldn’t.
Nearly every penny she’d saved from her wages had been spent for her passage.
‘Give it back to me!’ Ava demanded, setting down the candle and making a grab for the ticket.
She missed.
Smirking, Ned tripped her and down she went, the breath knocked out of her.
The devil he was, but he’d not get the best of her. She’d seen how the world worked and how you had to fight for what you wanted. Aye, fight. And that she’d do…
The saints be warned!’ Ava banged her fist into her hand. ‘I’ll not be done in by the likes of you.’ Breathing hard, she struggled to get to her feet when—
‘Open up!’ yelled a woman’s voice outside the door. ‘I know you’ve got a man in there.’
‘It’s the landlady,’ whispered the girl, turning down the gaslight. ‘Go, Ned, now!’
Ned raced toward the open window leading to the roof—
But not before Ava grabbed him by his shirt tail and pulled him backward, making him lose his balance. To her relief, he dropped her steamship ticket before making his escape. She snatched it up and hid it inside her blouse, then let out a deep sigh.
Hours yet until the sun came up. But nothing would stop her from having her chance at freedom.
She lay down on the hard cot and slept with one eye open the rest of the night.
4
The Titanic
10 April 1912
‘Her ladyship’s maid must leave the ship at Queenstown,’ said the surgeon, a kindly Irishman settled in his years.
And in his opinion.
‘There’s no permanent damage, doctor?’ Buck asked.
‘No, milord, merely a bad sprain, but she’ll not be able to perform her duties aboard ship.’
Buck nodded, watching the countess sitting at the girl’s bedside, holding her hand and wiping her brow with a damp cloth. Kind and considerate, Fiona never deemed it beneath her to help the girl, though she barely knew her. She’d foregone having a lady’s maid back home in Scotland to cut back expenses, so Buck had secured a replacement from a reputable source in London.
Closing up his black bag, the surgeon said, ‘I’ll send a deck steward round in the morning with a wheelchair before we dock.’ He smiled. ‘Don’t worry, she’ll be good as new by the first summer rain.’
The elderly physician bade the countess goodnight, then he was off to treat numerous bouts of seasickness before turning in for the night.
The countess pulled Buck over to the side, out of the maid’s earshot.
‘Poor girl was standing on a stool, trying to put my hatbox on top of the wardrobe, when she slipped,’ she said, her voice as soft as a whisper in a dark room. ‘I shall never forgive myself, Buck.’
‘It wasn’t your fault, Fiona.’ He sat down with her on the velvet settee in the connecting stateroom used as a parlor. He closed the door, giving them privacy. ‘Be assured, Trey will compensate her for wages lost before she leaves the ship.’
‘Yes, Trey has a most charming manner when it comes to women.’ She said no more, but her silence told him what he wanted to know.
She was aware of Trey’s indiscretions.
Buck studied her pleasant features drawn into a tight smile. In her blissful, sophisticated innocence, she gave the air of a perfect upper-class engagement, whatever the cost to her own happiness.
‘You can leave the ship at Queenstown, Fiona, if you need more time,’ Buck said candidly. ‘I’ll explain the situation to Trey.’
‘No. I need this marriage, Buck, as much as he needs my title. I would have drowned in debt if you hadn’t acted as a go-between for me.’ She looked down, embarrassed. ‘Things haven’t been the same at Dirksen Castle since Papa died… Trey stepped in and spoke to my creditors… let’s say he’s been very generous.’
‘I’ll pay it all back, Fiona, if you don’t want this marriage.’
‘Dear Buck, always looking out for me since we met on that lovely summer day.’
Buck smiled. How could he forget the first time he had set eyes on her? Racing through the thick forest on a black mare, her long chestnut hair flying behind her, she rode sidesaddle with an elegant grace as if she were one with the horse. She had such poise then and she was barely seventeen.
He’d been spending time in Scotland at the Blackthorn family lodge after the nasty business with his father, the duke. As a young man fresh from Cambridge, Buck was gazetted to the Coldstream Guards as a second lieutenant and served at the front during the Boer War as an intelligence officer.
By the age of twenty-one, he was one of the youngest captains in his regiment and had a promising military career ahead of him until his father insisted he settle down to a desk job – and marry an American heiress to enrich the duke’s coffers and settle his younger son’s future. His Grace couldn’t conceive his son had a mind of his own and wouldn’t be dependent on a woman. Any woman.
Buck shocked his father by resigning his post, but he retained his honorary title of captain.
Then he went into a self-imposed exile in Scotland.
Riding and hunting, enjoying the solace of the countryside, Fiona was just what he had needed. There he talked over with her the idea of joining the French Foreign Legion, their free and dangerous lives appealing to him. There was something irresistible about soldiers who owed allegiance only to themselves, he had said.
The countess had talked him out of it, as only she could.
She made everything seem so easy, this girl who loved to write poetry and knew exactly what to say and how to say it. She kept Buck coming back to Scotland, a place he loved and where he found peace. Although his father reveled in owning a forest filled with deer, the duke rarely took up residence there, preferring instead to use its existence merely for boasting purposes.
It became a refuge for Buck between adventures – amorous and otherwise. It was a quiet time in his life and his friendship with Fiona grew. By the time the countess matured into a lovely woman, the two had become good friends. Her father, the earl, hoped for an alliance between the families when Fiona became of age. He had asked one thing of the young man. Buck wasn’t going to let him down now.
‘I promised your father I’d look out for you.’
‘Is that the only reason?’ Her eyes searched his, looking for something he couldn’t give her. It would be unfair to let her believe so.
‘You know what I am, Fiona, a rogue with the scruples of a masked highwayman, intent on giving my protection to lovely ladies, but never falling in love.’
She sighed without embarrassment. ‘How I do envy Lady Pennington.’
Buck cleared his throat. ‘Does Mayfair gossip reach as far as Scotland?’
She smiled. ‘We’re not as out of touch as people believe, though in recent years I prefer to avoid the London Season.’
The time of year when society ladies traveled to the city for fancy parties.
At twenty-three, Fiona no longer possessed the first bloom of a girl enjoying her debut. With a vast estate and lands to run, it provided the perfect excuse for her to avoid the rush and bother of trying to snag a husband. She was a peeress in her own right, but she’d had few offers until Trey made his move. She was grateful he was willing to take on the enormous task of restoring Dirksen Castle to its former glory.
‘I shall lose everything if I don’t marry Trey. It’s not just for me, but the tenants on my lands are simple people, toiling their plots for years and depending on us to supplement them in bad times. I hate to think what would happen to them if the lands were divided up, sold off, and the tenants ousted to pay my debts.’
Her shoulders slumped and although she tried to hold back the tears, she couldn’t. Buck felt drawn to her, this lonely woman with such a desperate need to help those less fortunate. In a way, they were alike. Since his mother died, he had no family he could call upon. His elder brother, the heir to the title, whiled away hi
s time in France, spending the fortune he didn’t have, while his father, the duke, turned a blind eye.
The countess was also alone and he was determined to help her.
‘Dry your tears, Fiona,’ he said, handing her his handkerchief. ‘There’s a whole new life waiting for you in New York.’
She wiped her eyes, then laid her head on his shoulder. ‘Oh, Buck, if only you could stay in New York and be by my side, I wouldn’t be so frightened.’
‘I wish I could, Fiona, but there aren’t many jobs in New York for impoverished lords,’ he said, stroking her hair. The cabin parlor felt airless, stuffy. Or was it because he found himself in an uncomfortable situation? ‘After the gossip about my liaison with Lady Pennington quiets down, I must return to London to get my affairs in order.’
‘I shall miss you terribly, Buck,’ she said, raising her face to his, her lips so close they nearly brushed his mouth. She caught him off guard, making his back stiffen, his urges rising suddenly in spite of the awkwardness of the moment. He would never touch her, never spoil the closeness they had with an impulsive kiss.
He resisted her invitation and she let out a deep sigh, making him feel worse. He didn’t feel noble or heroic, but what else could he do? He must face up to the fact it wasn’t going to be easy to navigate his friendship with her over the next few days at sea.
He was about to break their embrace when—
‘My, my, isn’t this a cozy situation,’ Trey said, bursting into the stateroom in a dramatic entrance, his tone angry. He slammed the door and leaned against it, arms folded. ‘My fiancée and my best friend caught in an amorous embrace.’
The countess pulled away, embarrassed. ‘Please, Trey, you’re being silly,’ she pleaded, smoothing down her dress, her cheeks flushed though she attempted to add a lightness to her tone. ‘You don’t know how difficult it is for a recluse like me to travel these days. I’ve been all in a tizzy since I came on board and Buck is such a gentleman, trying to make it easier for me.’