by Peggy Gaddis
Claire stood up, smiling.
“I’ll think about it, Captain,” she promised him. “But I must warn you I won’t be able to make up my mind until I’ve had my visit with my parents.”
“Of course, of course, my dear Miss Frazier,” answered the captain heartily. “Just bear us in mind, and we’ll give you an address at which you can cable us. Meanwhile, my most hearty thanks for all you’ve done.”
“I was glad to be of service, Captain, and thank you for everything.” Claire put her hand in his and turned toward the door. “Good night, and thank you both.”
Curt held the door for her and walked with her down the corridor to her own door. She paused at the door of the Barclay cabin and touched the knob. But the door was locked, as she had been certain it would be. Either Vera or Nora — and it was most likely to have been Vera — had fought off the effects of the sedative sufficiently to lock the door and slip the chain in place.
Claire leaned her ear close against the panel and heard a faint, lady-like but quite unmistakable snore. She smothered a smile, remembering how many times her most refined, most dignified feminine patients had emitted that same sound beneath the effects of a sedative.
Curt frowned at the locked door and offered a master key, but Claire shook her head, moving on to her own door before she answered, her voice quite low.
“They are both asleep and will be for at least eight hours,” she told him softly. “I’ll check with Vera in the morning, before breakfast. But I feel sure Nora is going to be fine.”
“You’re quite a girl,” said Curt quietly. And beneath the look in his eyes, Claire felt color rise in her cheeks. “I hope very much you will sail again with the Highland Queen as a member of the ship’s personnel. A very important member, by the way!”
“Well, thank you.”
She stepped through the door into her cabin, smiled at him and closed the door in his handsome face.
She sat down on the edge of her bed and stared straight ahead of her. It had been quite an evening, and she was trying to sort out her somewhat chaotic thoughts. She was much disturbed because the sorting was badly upset by memories of Curt’s handsome face, his deep, vibrant voice and his quite undeniable charm.
Chapter Twelve
Because it had been so late before she managed to get to sleep, Claire awoke late. And as she came from her stateroom, Vera was just emerging from her own, moving carefully glancing back over her shoulder as she drew the door shut behind her.
She was pale and drawn this morning, and not even the most careful make-up could conceal the fact. She greeted Claire with a nervous start and managed a smile that was unconvincing.
“Oh, hello,” she said softly. “My poor baby is still sleeping.”
“That’s good for her,” Claire said quietly. “I won’t disturb her then. I’ll come back later.”
Vera laid a hand on her arm and slowed her as they walked toward the salon.
“I can’t ever thank you, Claire, for saving her,” she managed huskily. “If I lost her — I wouldn’t want to live. I’d have nothing to live for. Everything I’ve ever done has been for her, to give her good things, nice clothes, good schools, the best of everything.”
Claire was touched by the aching sincerity in Vera’s voice. The next moment Vera said harshly, “Why did she do it, Claire? I’d told her everything was going to be all right — why couldn’t she believe me?”
“I don’t know,” Claire said gently. “But you mustn’t worry about her. She’s going to be quite all right — ”
“I just can’t understand why she would want to frighten me so,” Vera went on desperately. “Because, of course, she didn’t really mean to kill herself. She only pretended because she hates me!”
“Now, look, you mustn’t let yourself get overwrought and hysterical again,” Claire said firmly.
Vera drew a hard breath, and her chin steadied and went up a little.
“Oh, yes, that’s one against you in my book — having that Burke creature slap me! How she dared! And she looked as if she enjoyed it. That’s the unforgivable thing about it — that you ordered it and she enjoyed it! Curt, bless him, wouldn’t do it — ” Vera’s voice gained strength from rising anger at the memories she was evoking.
“It’s the traditional cure for hysteria, Vera,” Claire defended herself.
“Oh, I suppose so,” Vera answered curtly, and caught her breath and went rigid as she and Claire stepped into the salon and came face to face with Major Lesley.
He greeted them with his old-fashioned courtesy and seemed to find nothing unexpected in Vera’s rigidity or the sneer hatred that her eyes revealed as she met his.
“I do hope the little girl is doing well this morning?” Major Lesley asked her politely.
“I’m sure you’re very concerned about her.” Vera’s tone was an insolent slap in his face, and Major Lesley blinked and stepped back as she swept past him and on to the table where a few of the passengers were lingering over coffee and cigarettes.
Major Lesley watched her, and then he looked down at Claire and smiled.
“When you’ve had your breakfast, Claire, shall we have our regular constitutional around the deck? It’s a marvelous morning.” His tone was quite placid, and Claire studied him curiously.
“Why, yes, Major, I’d like that,” she answered, and he gave her his funny little bow and stepped out to the companionway and the deck.
Carl, the steward, smiled a warm greeting at Claire as he served her iced papaya juice, fresh crisp toast and bacon and eggs. The coffee was piping hot and delectable, and as the fragrance of the food rose, Claire realized how hungry she was.
Claire was in her usual seat, but Curt’s was empty. Obviously he had finished breakfast and departed to his duties. But the passengers lingered, eying Vera curiously, and Mrs. Burke murmured something to her friend Mrs. Hennessy. The two ladies smothered a laugh and left the table.
Angry color burned high beneath Vera’s make-up and her eyes flamed with anger as she watched them leave the salon, arm in arm, their ample bodies swaying a little to the gentle movement of the ship.
Claire was startled at the savage twist of Vera’s mouth and the blaze in her eyes. But she said nothing and went on with her breakfast. Vera ignored the food Carl placed before her and sat smoking, her eyes on space, her brows drawn together in a sullen frown.
Claire was just finishing her coffee when MacEwen came quickly into the salon, saw her, saw Vera, and hesitated, his jaw hardening. Then he came to Claire and, elaborately ignoring Vera, asked anxiously about Nora’s condition. Before Claire could reassure him, Vera turned her blazing eyes upon him.
“I really can’t see, Mr. Russell, why my daughter’s condition should concern you,” said Vera nastily.
MacEwen looked at her with eyes as cold and contemptuous as her tone.
“Can’t you, Mrs. Barclay? I happen to like Nora,” he said distinctly. “And what’s more, I happen to be sorry for her.”
Vera’s eyes widened slightly.
“Sorry for her?” she repeated as though she could not believe she had really heard him say that. “And may I ask why you should be sorry for her?”
“Well, since you’ve asked, chiefly because you are her mother,” said MacEwen furiously.
Vera caught her breath in rage.
“Why, you impossible creature! How dare you say that?” she gasped.
MacEwen met her eyes straightly.
“Because of the way you treat her, of course,” he said so distinctly that the few passengers lingering at the other end of the table heard and turned curious eyes on them. “If you treated a dog the way you treat her, Mrs. Barclay, the Humane Society would clap you in jail.”
Vera stared at him as though she could not believe her ears, and then, moving so swiftly that no one could guess her intention in time to try to stop her, she rose, picked up her coffee cup and hurled its contents straight into his face.
For an instant, as
though startled at what she had done, Vera stared at the empty coffee cup and at its contents streaming down MacEwen’s face. Then she glanced about the table, turned swiftly and went at a stumbling run out of the salon.
Carl was busy with a napkin, mopping MacEwen’s face, and MacEwen’s grin was tight-lipped and without mirth.
“One thing we may say for freighter cruises, folks,” MacEwen addressed the other guests with an attempt at levity, “is that they are never dull. Not when there’s somebody like Mrs. Barclay aboard, anyway.”
He pushed Carl away, nodded and strode out of the salon.
“Now what the devil do you suppose that was all about?” Claire heard one of the other passengers ask his table companion.
“One thing I learned a long time ago is never to try to understand a woman,” his companion answered him. “Shall we get some fresh air?”
“By all means; I could use some after that little display,” the first speaker answered. And the two men rose, nodded smiling at Claire and took themselves off.
Claire declined Carl’s offer of more coffee and followed the men out on deck
Major Lesley was leaning against the railing, waiting for her and came eagerly to meet her.
The day was all that he had promised, and Claire smiled at him as she tucked her hand through his arm and they set out for their morning walk.
It was obvious that the little man’s mood was not as bright and gay as the morning, but they had made one complete turn about the deck before he put his thoughts into words.
“Miss Frazier, I’m truly, deeply sorry about that poor child,” he said unhappily.
Claire looked down at his unhappy eyes.
“She’s going to be quite all right, Major,” she told him, puzzled by his obvious concern.
“But she must have been in a terrific mental disturbance to have attempted such a thing,” said the Major worriedly. “And I’m afraid I may have been responsible.”
“How could you have been, Major? You scarcely know the girl.”
He raised his eyes to meet hers and then looked away as he paused beside the railing and Claire stood waiting.
“But I’ve remembered where I first saw the mother and under what circumstances,” he confessed humbly, as though he admitted some crime.
“And you think that may have caused Nora to do what she did?”
Claire’s tone was touched with sympathy, though she could have only the vaguest possible idea what was troubling him.
Major Lesley nodded miserably. “Mrs. Barclay doesn’t remember me, but she’s frightened. And I wish she wouldn’t be. I very much wish she would realize that I have no intention of making any trouble for her.”
He looked up again at Claire, and his mouth was framed in a twisted attempt at a smile.
“I would like an opportunity to tell Mrs. Barclay that, but she avoids me,” Major Lesley explained painfully. “I’ve made several attempts to talk to her privately, but she always manages to slip away. It disturbs me very much that her fear of me may have caused the child to do what she did. And truly, Miss Frazier, Mrs. Barclay has nothing to fear from me. Nothing at all! I’ve retired!”
Claire was uneasy before his very real worry.
“I suppose all this sounds very mysterious to you, Miss Frazier, and I’d explain if I could, but I honestly feel it would be better for me to keep the unpleasant secret to myself,” he offered her a tacit apology.
“I’d much rather you did, Major,” Claire told him frankly. “A secret shared ceases to be a secret. It’s too bad you can’t manage to tell Mrs. Barclay that her secret is safe with you — ”
“I don’t suppose for a moment she would believe me if I did,” he sighed.
Claire felt sorry for him and laid her hand gently on his arm.
“Now look, Major,” she made her tone gay and rallying, “this is the trip you’ve planned for and saved for and studied for all these years. I just won’t have it spoiled for you by such worries. Whatever Mrs. Barclay’s secret may be, since you have no intention of revealing it to anyone, you mustn’t let it spoil your trip.”
“But if that poor child is so afraid of me that she does a horrible thing — ”
“Nora’s suffering from a frustrated love affair, Major,” Claire soothed him, smiling. “And when you’re nineteen or so, being torn from the arms of the man you’re quite sure you love is about the greatest tragedy that can happen. Sometimes, even when you are older, it can hurt terribly.”
Major Lesley looked as if he wanted very much to believe her, and Claire smiled at him.
“You really think it could have been that? Instead of her mother’s fear of me?” he asked hopefully, pathetically anxious to believe it.
“I’m quite sure of it, Major,” Claire told him with more conviction in her voice than in her heart. “And now shall we finish our walk? I want to hear more about the places we are going to see.”
Major Lesley settled his incongruously sporty cap a little more firmly against the ocean wind and once more offered his arm, as they set out along the deck again.
Before they had completed the second round, he was chatting brightly and seemed to have left his worried thoughts behind, to Claire’s intense relief.
Chapter Thirteen
Shortly before lunch she went below decks to freshen up and stopped at the door of the Barclay cabin. She rapped lightly and heard Nora’s voice and opened the door.
Nora was still in bed, her bandaged wrists lying on the cover, her miserably unhappy eyes on the porthole through which a glimpse of sun-drenched blue sky was visible.
She turned her head as Claire came in. Color poured into her young face, and her eyes were dark with shame.
“I wonder you’d even be willing to speak to me, Claire,” she mumbled like an abashed child.
“Well, now that’s a nice thing to say to your nurse.” Claire made her voice gay and mocking, as she expertly examined the bandaged wrists and saw, as she had expected, that the cuts were healing nicely. “There’s no reason, when I’ve put fresh dressings on, why you shouldn’t get up for lunch.”
“Oh, no! I couldn’t!” Nora shuddered and her eyes closed tightly. “I can’t ever face those other passengers again — I’d die of embarrassment.”
Adjusting the dressings, Claire said lightly, though her eyes were worried, “Then I’m afraid you’re going to get awfully hungry. I don’t think they serve meals in bed to passengers on the Highland Queen! There’s only one steward, Carl, and the captain’s cabin boy, who, by the way, is someone you really should see. Cabin boy! Why, I’ll bet he’s sixty if he’s a day, and he looks like a little gnome.”
Nora brushed the attempted levity aside with a question that came straight from her heart, “Have you seen Mac this morning?”
“Mac? Oh, you mean MacEwen Russell.” Claire nodded. “He was asking about you at breakfast. He seemed quite worried. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, scaring us all?”
Nora winced and tried to crawl further beneath the thin covers.
“Oh, yes, I’m ashamed — so terribly ashamed — I wish I could die!” she stammered. “That’s how ashamed I am!”
“Well, don’t let it go that far.” Claire was still trying to rally her from her desperate mood. “After all, nothing can be quite that bad.”
Nora’s smile seemed to crawl across her white, convulsed face like an evil shadow.
“Let’s forget about last night, shall we?” Claire said briskly, smiling at her. “It’s a perfectly gorgeous day and you should be out on deck, basking in the sunshine. And I’m sure MacEwen will be waiting for you.”
That lit a spark in Nora’s eyes, and Claire laughed a little as she went on to her own quarters to freshen up for lunch. Knowing that MacEwen would be waiting for her was the best medicine that Nora could have at the moment. But Claire could not rid herself of the uneasy memory of Vera’s vicious attack on MacEwen that morning. Would she make another scene in the salon when Nora came in?
<
br /> She tried to reassure herself on that point, but came into the salon as the bell rang, glancing swiftly about and relieved to see that, while MacEwen was in his accustomed place, neither Nora nor Vera was there.
Curt greeted Claire with every evidence of pleasure as she took her place, and as usual Carl gave her his warmest smile as he served her.
“How’s the patient this morning?” Curt asked her, keeping his tone lowered so it would not reach beyond her.
Claire smiled at him as she unfolded her napkin.
“She’ll be in to lunch soon,” she told him. “She’s fine.”
“That’s good news,” said Curt with relief.
MacEwen leaned closer to Claire and asked anxiously, “She really is going to be all right?”
“Of course she is,” Claire comforted him.
He scowled at his plate and seemed to take no further interest in what was going on around him, and lunch was almost over before Nora appeared in the doorway, looking fresh and neat in her thin printed cotton frock.
All eyes turned upon her, and she hesitated. For a moment it appeared as though her courage would fail her. Then she squared her shoulders, lifted her chin defiantly and walked to her chair. She looked the length of the table, up one side and down the other, meeting the curious, interested eyes that were upon her. Her color rose, and she tucked her bandaged wrists behind her.
“I’m terribly ashamed I made such a fool of myself last night,” she told them all, steadying her voice with an effort. “And I want to apologize to everybody.”
And as though she could no longer endure the eyes turned upon her, she swept about and was gone.
MacEwen was on his feet, running after her, calling to her, and the next moment they were both gone.
A little murmur ran along the table like wind through dry leaves, and Claire said quietly, “I do hope we can all forget what has happened. She’s frighteningly young and terribly embarrassed and — well, I’m sure all of us can remember times when we were that young and life seemed too complicated for endurance. Let’s all be very kind to her and pretend it never happened, can’t we?”