“Quite.” Jacquie nodded and lowered her voice. “But the good detective knows this and is on to them. He’s quite good at what he does, you see.”
The fellow in the bowler leaned down and whispered in a young lady’s ear, and the pretty blond giggled in response.
“Yes,” Jacquie said with a chuckle. “He is very good at what he does.”
Whether she knew it or not, Jacquie Abingdon was very good at what she did too. Her charms captivated him and made him wish for a longer voyage at sea. Suddenly he longed for Titanic to slow her pace. If only this trip could be extended. Then, perhaps, he would have the time he needed to get to know this lovely young woman better.
Just as quickly, he thought of Father, and his heart swelled with pride. Stay focused, Nathan. Soon you will be home, ready to begin the next chapter of your life.
Oh, if only he could keep one foot aboard the deck of Titanic and another at home in New York. Then, life, as Nathan Patterson knew it, would be absolutely ideal.
Chapter Eighteen
Thursday Morning, April 11, 1912
Aboard the Titanic, on the Boat Deck
After walking along the Boat Deck with Jacquie and Iris for nearly a half hour, Nathan approached the railing and glanced out at the waters. He closed his eyes and allowed his body to feel the movement of the boat as she glided ever westward, the rush of waves lapping at her hull and creating a push-pull feeling. Odd, how the movement in both directions could make one feel as if they weren’t going anywhere at all but rather swirling around in the same circular pool.
“Are you all right?” Jacquie asked, her sweet voice ringing out above the sound of the crashing waves below.
He opened his eyes and looked her way, noticing the concerned expression. “Oh, I’m fine. Just paying particular attention to the movement of the ship.”
“Experiencing a bit of seasickness?” she asked.
“Not at all. Just keenly aware of the flow of the boat against water. Reminds me a bit of what it’s like to play the violin.”
“The violin?” This remark came from Iris, who sounded startled.
“Yes.” He turned to face her, determined to win her over in spite of her sour ways. “Titanic is the bow and the water is the violin. One sails across the other, creating a steady rhythm and a soothing melody.” He closed his eyes once again. “Do you feel it? It’s really the friction of one moving against the other that creates the sound. Reminds me of life.”
“Very intriguing,” Jacquie said. “And lovely.”
“Thank you.” He opened his eyes once more.
To his right, Iris sighed. “Never would’ve thought to compare the ship to a violin. Not sure where you came up with that.”
“I stopped playing years ago, but music is a part of me. Sometimes I think I hear it even when others don’t.”
“Clearly.” Iris pursed her lips and looked at the water. “Because I, for one, don’t hear a thing. Except the sound of the seagulls overhead, I mean. And the noise from the children playing just a few yards away.”
“You cannot deny the sound of the water lapping against the boat,” he argued. “It is most assuredly creating a melody. Haunting, really.” Nathan had just opened his mouth to add something when the grinding of brakes caught his attention.
“Do you feel that?” Jacquie’s eyes widened. “We’re slowing down.”
“We must be getting close to Queenstown,” he said.
“I can’t believe it. My first trip to Ireland.” Jacquie gripped the railing and leaned over it so far, he thought she might fall. “You can’t imagine how long I’ve wanted to visit. My father’s people are from Dublin.”
“Really?” This news startled him. “I thought that Abingdon was a British name.”
“Oh, well, I—” She swallowed hard and pulled back from the railing. “Going back several generations, I mean.” Her eyelashes took to fluttering. “And did I say Father? I meant Mother. Yes, my mother’s people are from Ireland. Several generations removed.”
Out of the corners of his eyes, Nathan caught a glimpse of Iris rolling her eyes. Why the young woman spent so much time in an irksome state confused him. She seemed to have some sort of issue with Jacquie, but why?
Perhaps he could turn this conversation around. “Mother and I visited Ireland a couple of years ago,” he said. “There’s something about that green countryside, those rolling hills, that reminds me of the countryside in central Pennsylvania where my grandparents live. But our most recent journeys took us to France. Have you been?”
“Oh, but of course.” With the wave of a hand, Jacquie appeared to dismiss his question.
“Ah. Well, then, you know that nothing compares to Paris. The Eiffel Tower is amazing. Didn’t you find it all rather remarkable?”
“Truly.” She glanced his way and offered a tiny shrug. “I suppose.”
“Tell me, which do you prefer—the Champs-Élysées or Versailles?” he asked. “Which is your favorite place to visit, I mean?”
“Oh.” She paused and appeared to be thinking. “I’ve always been keen on spending time with the countess. That’s by far my favorite thing to do whenever I have the opportunity.” In spite of the cool breeze coming off the water, Jacquie’s cheeks turned a rosy hue, and she fanned herself.
“Countess? Which one? The Countess of Rothes? She’s onboard, you know.”
“No.” The edges of Jacquie’s lips turned up in the cutest grin. “The one with the orneriest litter of babes you’ve ever met. What a rowdy bunch! I’m always cleaning up their messes.” She clamped a hand over her mouth, and her face turned redder still.
He doubled over in laughter. “I wish I had your sense of humor, Jacquie. It’s brilliant. I daresay you’re as sharp as a tack. Very witty.” A little wink followed. “For a girl.”
Her smile faded at once. “For a girl?” She planted her hands on her hips and faced him head-on. For a minute he thought she might double up her fist and give him a pounding. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, I’m just teasing,” he said. “I didn’t mean to cause offense. But I hadn’t heard that about any countess’s family. You’ve intrigued me.”
To his right, Iris grunted. “I thought we were talking about Ireland. What’s all this mush about France? And countesses? I’ve never heard of either in Ireland.”
“True.” He nodded then turned his attention to the rocky cliffs in the distance for a moment. Just as quickly his gaze shifted back to Jacquie, who leaned forward, placing her elbows on the ship’s railing in an unladylike fashion.
“It’s beautiful.” A tiny sigh escaped those lovely lips of hers as she gazed out onto the scene before them.
Nathan couldn’t help but grin. Yes, beautiful was exactly the word he would have chosen too. Only he didn’t happen to be looking at the green hills of Ireland. His gaze remained fixed on the prettiest girl on the Titanic, one with a razor-sharp wit to boot.
Iris watched the interaction between Nathan Patterson and Tessa with interest. No one could rightfully accuse Tessa of flirting. She did not possess the talent to flirt as so many polished society girls did. Still, she had a genuine way about her, a way of drawing a young man such as Nathan into her world. But she needed to watch herself. That line about her family hailing from Ireland almost gave them away. And what was the purpose of that comment about the countess? If Nathan found out that she referred to a sow named Countess from Gloucestershire County, the gig would be up in a hurry.
Gig. Pig.
For whatever reason, Iris started chuckling as she thought about the rhyme. For a moment, anyway. She watched as Nathan’s gaze turned from the coastline to Tessa’s peaceful face. He appeared to be mesmerized.
Another grinding of the brakes beneath their feet slowed the Titanic even more. Though they were still a great distance from shore, the huge vessel came to a complete stop.
“What’s happening?” Tessa looked her way, wide-eyed.
“We are anchoring
off Roche’s Point. The dock at Queenstown isn’t big enough to accommodate us. Tenders will arrive from the White Star Line jetty, bringing the final passengers onboard. And mail, as well, from what I understand.”
Tessa still seemed alarmed. “I had hoped we could just get on with this journey. Head out to sea.”
Nathan’s expression shifted to one of concern. Leaning against the railing, he gave Iris a pensive look. “There’s something I want to say, and it must be spoken before more passengers board the ship. I mentioned this in passing to Jacquie last night.” His brow creased into a V. “But I need to share it with you, as well.”
“Share what?” Iris fussed with the strings of her hat, which the wind had whipped into a little dance around her neckline.
“Many of the passengers are emigrants from eastern European countries. I heard some of the men talking about it last night. Countries like Syria and Croatia.”
“Croatia.” Iris echoed the word. She hadn’t heard of that one.
The concern in his voice intensified. “Most of these folks probably won’t speak English or French. Most will be staying in third class, from what I’ve heard. I just want to make sure you ladies are properly chaperoned whenever you’re around the men. Not to say that they are suspect because of where they’re from or because of their social class. I don’t mean that at all. I’m simply saying that the crowd is about to grow thicker, and the potential for mischief increases.”
“But…chaperoned? Why?” This seemed a bit ridiculous to Iris’s way of thinking.
“Because these people are total strangers.” His brow furrowed, an indicator that he truly believed the ladies to be in harm’s way.
“As are you.” She planted her fists on her hips and stared him down.
His face paled, and he turned his gaze back to the shoreline as he muttered, “I understand, but my offer still stands. With so many people milling about, one could lose their purse.”
Or their head. Iris fought the temptation to speak the words aloud. Really, she couldn’t seem to control her tongue these days, though much of what she’d said over the past hour or so shamed her. If only she could get control of her emotions, then she wouldn’t have to eat her words after the fact.
Her gaze turned to the approaching tenders. She read the name IRELAND on the first one and AMERICA on the second. Both were filled to capacity with passengers and sacks of mail.
Minutes later Titanic came alive with activity. Along with a bevy of new passengers, tenders brought several Irish locals with all sorts of merchandise, including the most delicate lace Iris had ever laid eyes on.
As the merchants spread their wares and called out for passengers to buy, buy, buy, she found herself wishing she hadn’t thumbed her nose at Nathan’s suggestion that he serve as chaperone. Perhaps having a strong male nearby would be an asset, particularly with so many rough-looking strangers about and calling to her at every turn. As folks pushed and prodded, she found herself feeling more anxious by the moment…until she laid eyes on the merchants with Irish lace in hand.
She watched as one merchant—an older woman with long gray hair—strung large pieces of Irish lace over her shoulders and walked the deck, calling out for people to have a look.
“Irish lace,” Iris whispered. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to have just a few inches of the delicate stuff. Seconds later she found herself standing in front of the woman, her gaze falling on a piece of Kenmare, her favorite. Her heart quickened as she took in the lovely pieces. How delicate. How lovely.
“You are fond of lace?” the woman asked. “I will give you a good price.”
“Fond of it?” Her heart swelled with joy. “I adore it, especially the Kenmare lace. Have you ever seen anything so beautiful? I can imagine a nice dress with a bit of this lace on the collar and cuffs.” She fingered a lovely stretch of it. “One day.”
“Not one day,” Tessa said as she stepped up next to Iris. “This day. You will have it today.” She reached for her reticule and opened it to pull out some coins. Minutes later she pressed a full yard of the Kenmare into Iris’s hands.
“A–are you sure, Tes—Miss Jacquie?” Iris found herself fumbling for words.
“Very sure. It’s the least I can do.” Tessa winked and reached over to give her a hug, at which point she whispered, “You’re worth it, Iris. Worth this and much more.”
“Worth it.”
Why the words pricked her heart, she could not say. Still, as Iris fixed her gaze on the Kenmare lace, she felt more valuable than she had in years.
Jacquie paced the lobby of the Willingham and waited, as she had for hours, for Peter to arrive. If he didn’t show up by two o’clock, she would go into the dining room alone and have lunch. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about Mother finding her here. Mother and Cousin Minerva were long gone to Paris by now.
She continued to pace the lobby, feeling the eyes of the bellman on her. When he approached to ask if he could help her in any way, she simply shook her head and kept walking. Surely something had happened to delay Peter’s arrival. Still, he should have sent a note to the clerk. Jacquie did her best to relax but found it difficult.
By 1:55, her heart had gravitated to her throat. By two o’clock, she knew she must face facts.
He’s not coming. And I’ve made a complete fool of myself.
Chapter Nineteen
Friday Afternoon, April 12, 1912
Aboard the Titanic, on the Boat Deck
On Friday afternoon Tessa dressed in her prettiest pink gown to meet with Nathan’s mother in the Café Parisien. She couldn’t imagine what the woman might want to discuss. Perhaps she had discovered the truth—every awful bit of it.
The idea left Tessa in a dither. Would they bounce her off the ship if they discovered her secret? She did have a ticket, albeit in someone else’s name. Would she have to betray Jacquie, should immigration officials figure out she wasn’t who she pretended to be?
At ten minutes till two, Tessa gave herself a quick glance in the looking-glass and then ushered up a prayer—the first in a long while—for God’s protection. She had no right to do so; she knew that. But still, one couldn’t help but struggle with nerves on a day such as today.
She found Mrs. Patterson sipping a cup of tea at a table in the back of the café.
“Jacquie, my dear, you’ve come.” The older woman gestured for her to sit, and she did. “Are you enjoying your journey?”
“I am. I’m getting a lot of rest, which is nice.” Even as Tessa spoke the words, she thought about how leisurely this voyage had been in comparison to her days on the farm. At home, she scarcely had time to sit for a moment without Pa taking it out on her. Here, she could lounge about for hours on end, in seemingly endless days.
Unless it all came crashing down on her now. And from the look in Mrs. Patterson’s eyes, something was about to come crashing down.
“Well, you look lovely, my dear, but I can tell something is troubling you.”
“You can?”
“Yes, and that’s why I’ve brought you here.” Mrs. Patterson paused, and Tessa’s heart now raced like Countess headed out of the farrowing crates.
The waiter, a handsome fellow with dark hair and a thick Italian accent, placed a tray of raspberry tarts on the table in front of them. Nathan’s mother gazed at the sugary delicacies with longing, finally settling on the smallest one on the tray. She picked it up and took a nibble.
Still, Tessa could read the seriousness in the woman’s narrowed eyes. Sooner or later she would get to the point of this meeting. When she did, would the ruse come to an end? Would Tessa have to bare her soul…and her sin?
“Jacquie, I simply must ask you something.” The woman twisted her napkin around in her palms and then folded it and set it on the table.
“All right.”
Mrs. Patterson poured Tessa a cup of tea and then glanced up at her. “Sweet girl, I know it’s really none of my business, and I do hope you don’t think I’m an o
ld busybody, but I must know— why do you allow your lady’s maid to speak to you in such a manner? It’s no wonder you’re so beaten down. She is taxing you, my dear.”
Tessa fought to keep her composure as she pondered the older woman’s words. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“Indeed? I walked up on your conversation yesterday and was startled by the way she addressed you. No, startled is too soft a word. I found her tone and her words to be completely out of line for one in her station.”
Mrs. Patterson gestured to the cup of tea, and Tessa reached for it, though her hand shook so violently that she nearly spilled it. She shifted her gaze to her lap and tried to think of something brilliant to say. Nothing came to mind, except “Oh, I see.” So that’s what this was about.
“If I had a girl such as that in my employ, she would be gone faster than this ship sailed out of Queenstown.” Mrs. Patterson stirred a cube of sugar into her tea. “And I would certainly never think to allow her to travel with me in so fine a room as the one you’re staying in. I would put her down in steerage to fend for herself. That would shake her up a bit, I daresay.”
Tessa paused for a moment to think through a believable response. “Mrs. Patterson, I appreciate your concern. I really do. And I see your point, of course. Iris is…well, she’s Iris. No doubt about it. But she has been in service with our family since I was in finishing school. Her mother started out as my mother’s lady’s maid.”
Tessa swallowed hard as the lie was spoken. Though, it wasn’t a total untruth, was it? Iris and Jacqueline had grown up together.
Offering a weak smile, she finally managed a shrug. “Perhaps we are too familiar?”
“I would say.” Mrs. Patterson reached for her fan. As she spread it wide, the delicate lace caught the ripples of sunlight streaming through the café window. She waved it back and forth. “Familiar is exactly the word. Well, you must undo the familiarity at once.”
“Undo it?”
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