Murder on the Marmora

by Conrad Allen

  “A very beautiful piece of wreckage,” he said gallantly.

  “It could be a drawback, George.”

  “You’ve coped with that problem many times before.”

  “But only on much larger ships with two or three times as many passengers.” She relaxed and gave an appeasing smile. “I’m sorry to trot out a complaint the moment we meet,” she said. “Myra Cathcart may even turn out to be a boon. If my guess is right, she’s something of a merry widow. Myra will attract a lot of people around her and I’ll get to know them without having the trouble of making their acquaintances on my own.”

  “That’s all part of our job,” Dillman reminded her. “Merging with the passengers and befriending as many of them as we can. There’s no better way to gather intelligence.”

  “I know, George.” She glanced around. “You have a very nice cabin, I must say.”

  “It’s a long voyage. Comfort is essential. What’s your accommodation like?”

  “Too close to the Cathcarts.”

  “I could always arrange to have you moved.”

  “No, no. They’d be terribly offended. I’ll stay put.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Have you met the purser yet?”

  “Yes,” said Dillman, with a slight grimace. “Mr. Kilhendry is not the most sociable fellow. He told me to my face that he’s not an admirer of the American nation and he resents the both of us because we worked for Cunard. He views us as intruders.”

  “Even though we’re here to solve any crimes that are committed aboard?”

  “Mr. Kilhendry believes that he can police the ship on his own.”

  She was alarmed. “But we need to work hand in glove with him.”

  “Not in this case, Genevieve.”

  “How on earth are we going to manage?” she wondered.

  “By dealing almost exclusively with his deputy, Martin Grandage. I took to him at once,” said Dillman. “He’s a much more affable character. Mr. Grandage wants to see the pair of us later on so that he can give us a few pointers.”

  “Perhaps he can tell us why the purser is being so awkward.”

  “It’s in his nature. He’s very territorial.”

  “I look forward to meeting him,” she said through gritted teeth. “We’re sailing all the way to Australia, George. I don’t relish the idea of doing that when the man in the best position to help is actually trying to hinder us.”

  “There’s one way to solve that problem.”

  “Is there?”

  “Yes, win him over.”

  “How do we do that?”

  “By showing him he needs us on this ship.”

  “That’s easier said than done,” she said. “If there are criminals aboard—and I’m sure we’ll have the usual smattering—they’ll be used to operating on a lengthy cruise. We’ve never done that, George. Our villains have always been hit-and-run merchants on a five-day Atlantic crossing. We’re up against a different enemy.”

  “That’s what makes it so interesting.”

  “I’d feel happier if we had the purser’s full backing.”

  “Then woo him over, Genevieve. I can’t do it. As soon as I open my mouth, I set off all his prejudices about Americans. I always thought we had an affinity with the Irish, but not in Mr. Kilhendry’s case. He thinks we’re too arrogant.”

  “You’re the least arrogant person I’ve ever met.”

  “Try telling that to the purser.”

  “I most certainly will,” she promised. “Do we have any special orders?”

  “Only to keep out of his way.”

  “I was thinking of the royal party.”

  “Oh, Mr. Kilhendry has taken personal responsibility for them,” said Dillman. “I doubt if we’ll get anywhere near the Princess Royal and her family. Apparently, they’re traveling to Egypt for health reasons. They want to escape the English winter.”

  “I can sympathize with that.”

  “Did you watch them come aboard?”

  “Yes,” said Genevieve. “It was the one and only time Lilian Cathcart showed any spirit. She worships the royal family. Lilian did everything but wave a Union Jack. According to her, the Duke of Fife is eighteen years older than his wife.”

  “I’m not sure I’d embark on a marriage with that age difference.”

  “You never know, George. Love can make such things seem meaningless.”

  “Do you speak from experience?” he teased.

  She grinned. “Ask me again at the end of the voyage.”

  “You’re on this ship to work, Miss Masefield. Not to go hunting for romance.”

  “It has a nasty habit of hunting me, George.”

  They shared a laugh and their eyes locked for a full minute. He realized how much he had missed her during the time they had been apart. Dillman fought off the impulse to reach out for her, and became serious. He picked up the papers that lay on the table between them.

  “We’ll see Mr. Grandage together,” he said, “but I think you ought to show your face to the purser as well. I can’t promise that it will be the most pleasant experience of the day for you. However,” he went on, holding up the papers, “Mr. Kilhendry needs to know who you are and to give you a copy of these.”

  “What are they?”

  “The passenger lists and a diagram of the ship. They’re very useful. That’s how I knew which cabin you were in,” he explained. “I simply checked the first-class list.”

  Genevieve’s ears pricked up. Recalling the shock she had been given earlier, she saw that she now had a way of expelling any lingering fears that a certain person was aboard. She could put her mind at rest.

  “May I see the first-class list, please?” she asked.

  “Of course,” he replied, handing it over. “Are you looking for someone?”

  “No, George. Nobody in particular.”

  It was a lie. Genevieve was searching for reassurance. She ran a finger down the list, confident that she would be able to relieve her mind of its vestigial anxiety. But there was no relief at all. One name suddenly jumped off the page and made her start. She felt as if she had just been punched hard in the stomach.

  THREE

  As befitted members of the royal family, the Duke and Duchess of Fife, and their children, had been given the cabins that could best lay claim to be considered staterooms. They were large, plush, and superbly furnished. Other passengers had to unpack their own luggage but the royal couple was traveling with a small retinue of servants to take care of any menial tasks. While the ship made its way along the Thames estuary, Fife remained in his cabin with his wife. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man of almost sixty years, with a military bearing. His high, domed forehead and clear-cut features gave him an air of distinction but the full mustache, now peppered with gray, hinted at a more raffish side to his character. Accounted something of a rake in younger days, Fife had been redeemed by marriage and dedicated himself to being a family man and to running his vast estates in Scotland.

  “How do you feel now, my dear?” he asked solicitously.

  “I’m fine, Alex,” replied his wife, reclining in a chair. “A little tired, perhaps, but there was so much to do before we could set off.”

  “This will be the first Christmas we’ve spent abroad. Do you mind that?”

  “Not in the least. I’m rather looking forward to it. If we stay in England, we always seem to end up eating and drinking far too much. Father has such a remarkable appetite. The last time we spent Christmas Day at Sandringham, he insisted on having twelve courses.”

  “It was something of a challenge,” Fife agreed with a smile. “It will be interesting to see what sort of fare we get in Egypt. Some of their dishes are very exotic.”

  “I’m going there for the warm weather rather than the food.”

  “And for some sightseeing, Louise. Egypt is positively filled with ancient relics.” He gave a quiet chuckle. “Just like your family.”

  “Alex!”


  “I was only joking, my dear.”

  It was not a joke that she appreciated because it had such a strong element of truth in it. From the time she was born, Princess Louise Victoria Alexandra Dagmar had been surrounded by people who were substantially older than her. Queen Victoria, her grandmother, who had dominated the family in every way, had survived until her eighties and her spirit lived on. Other people in her circle were also long-lived and Princess Louise wondered if it was because she was so accustomed to being with older people that she had married a man who was almost twenty years her senior. It did not matter. She had never regretted her choice. Fife had been a devoted husband.

  “How long will it take us to get to Port Said?” she asked.

  “Eleven days, if all goes well.”

  She was worried. “Is there any reason why it shouldn’t?”

  “No, my dear,” said Fife with a consoling hand on her shoulder. “The Marmora is an excellent vessel and Captain Langbourne is an experienced sailor. The only thing that might slow us down is bad weather.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of, Alex. I don’t want the children to be seasick.”

  “They’re young, healthy, and full of life. Have no qualms about them.”

  “I was once horribly seasick when I was Maud’s age.”

  Though she was the eldest of the King’s three daughters, Princess Louise had always been rather shy and self-effacing. She was a slim, pale woman in dark attire. Marriage had helped her to blossom a little but she was still nervous and hesitant at times. The prospect of spending eleven days afloat was not one that appealed very much to her.

  “I hope that we will be able to maintain our privacy on board,” she said.

  “We can’t stay in our cabin throughout the whole voyage, Louise. Sea air is bracing. We need to get our fair share of it.”

  “Yes, I know, but I don’t want to spend too much time in the public eye.”

  “Noblesse oblige.”

  “I’ve never enjoyed being stared at by all and sundry.”

  “Then you certainly don’t take after your father,” he observed with a grin. “If the King were here now, he’d probably be chatting in the engine room with the chief engineer or standing on the bridge to give the captain advice on how to sail the ship. He had to wait such a long time to succeed to the throne that he’s determined to enjoy every moment of it, and to meet as many of his subjects as he can.”

  “Father thrives on public occasions. I hate them.”

  “You prefer hearth and home, dear, and I love you for it.”

  “Thank you, Alex.” She looked around. “Where are the girls?”

  “Still glued to the porthole in their cabin, I expect.”

  She was about to rise. “Do you think that we should check on them?”

  “No,” he said, easing her gently back into her seat. “They can look after themselves. They’re terribly excited about the whole trip. Maud, especially. She can’t wait to see the Pyramids. Try to relax, Louise. When they remember that they have parents, they’ll come looking for us in their own good time.”

  She sat back in her chair. “You’re probably right.”

  “I’m always right. That’s why I married you.”

  Princess Louise smiled for the first time since they had come aboard. She reached out to take his hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. He smiled back at her. A moment later, there was a knock on the door then it burst open. Their two teenage daughters came bounding into the cabin. Fife raised an eyebrow in amusement and turned to his wife.

  “What did I tell you?” he said.

  When she handed the passenger list back to him, it took Dillman only a second to pick out the name that had startled her. He did his best to reassure Genevieve but she was only half listening to what he said. Staring ahead of her, she tried to work out the implications of what she had discovered.

  “You may be worrying unnecessarily,” he said.

  “I don’t think so, George.”

  “It may not even be him.”

  “It is. I’m certain of it. I saw him earlier.”

  “You thought you saw him, Genevieve. Appearances can be deceptive.”

  “Not in this case,” she said ruefully. “Look at the number of his cabin. It’s on the same deck as my own. He was coming out of it when I caught sight of him.”

  “Maybe it’s another man with the same name and a similar build.”

  “It was Nigel. There’s no question of that now. He’s not only on the same ship as me, his cabin is actually in the same passageway as mine. That frightens me.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not sure,” she replied, rubbing her hands together. “I just know that it does.”

  “It’s not like you to be frightened by anything.”

  “This is different, George.”

  “Is it?” he asked, taking her by the shoulder and leading her to a chair. “Sit down for a moment,” he advised. She lowered herself into the chair and he crouched in front of her. “That’s better. Now, let’s try to get to the bottom of this, shall we? What is it that’s upset you so much?”

  “Somebody from my past whom I’d rather not meet.”

  “That could cut both ways, Genevieve.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Mr. Wilmshurst must have his own share of guilt about what happened.”

  “Don’t you believe it!” she said with vehemence. “Nigel doesn’t know what guilt is. He’s completely amoral. He never accepts that he’s to blame for anything.”

  “Yet, in this case, he certainly was.”

  “Up to a point.”

  “That’s not the way you explained it to me,” he said. “According to you, he did something that you felt was unforgivable and so you broke off your engagement to him. Isn’t that what happened?”

  “Yes, George.”

  “Then he was at fault. You’ve no reason to have a conscience about it.”

  “Yet I still do,” she confessed. “I suppose it was because I wanted the engagement to come to an end. When he provided me with an excuse, I jumped at it.”

  “You have no regrets about that, surely?”

  “None at all. I liked Nigel a lot at first. There was even a point when I believed that I actually loved him. But I was far too dazzled by his social position to look at him objectively. When his father dies, he inherits the title and becomes Lord Wilmshurst. The notion of being a ‘Lady’ is very tempting to someone who comes from my background.”

  “You are a lady, Genevieve,” he told her. “In every way.”

  “A title means so much in English society.”

  “Is that why you were rattled? Because you were reminded of what you missed?”

  “No, George,” she returned. “It’s a source of relief to me now. I’d never have fitted into that world. I can look the part but that’s all that I could have done. Besides, I’m much happier doing what I’m doing now.”

  “Watching out for pickpockets on a P and O ship?”

  “Working alongside someone I can respect.”

  “Thank you.” He rose to his feet. “So what do you think is going to happen?”

  “Sooner or later, I’ll have an embarrassing meeting with Nigel.”

  “Embarrassing for you or for him?”

  “Oh, only for me,” she said. “He’ll probably think it’s hilarious. Nigel has never been embarrassed in his life. You’ll see. He’s a law unto himself.”

  “I’m only concerned about his effect on you, Genevieve. It may hamper your work, and that’s worrying. Let’s face it, there’s no way that you can avoid him unless you transfer to second class. Would you prefer to do that?” She shook her head. “Are you certain about that?”

  “I’m not running away, George,” she promised. “I’m not going to hide in second class simply because I don’t wish to bump into Nigel. No,” she went on, “I’ll just have to take a deep breath and get on with it. But I know one thing. From now on, the Marmora is going
to seem even smaller.”

  “Are you afraid he might bother you?”

  “Nigel is doing that already and I haven’t even come face-to-face with him.”

  “What I meant was whether or not you were afraid he might harass you.”

  “I wouldn’t rule that out. Knowing him, I think he might take a delight in it.”

  “Then I can offer you some relief on that score,” he said, reaching for the passenger list again. “You were so shaken to see Nigel Wilmshurst in here that you didn’t notice the name directly beneath his.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Someone called Araminta Wilmshurst. It looks as if he’s married, Genevieve.”

  “Married?”

  “Yes, you’ll be perfectly safe from him now.”

  * * *

  Nigel Wilmshurst brushed a speck of dust from the sleeve of his jacket then admired himself in the mirror. Tall, thin, suave, and self-regarding, he was meticulous about his appearance. His dark hair was brushed neatly back and his mustache carefully trimmed. Watching him from the other side of the cabin, his wife giggled with amusement.

  “You spend more time in front of a mirror than I do,” she complained.

  “It’s important to look one’s best, Araminta.” He turned to grin at her. “Until the light goes out at night, that is. Then it’s important to do one’s best.” She giggled again. “You are going to have a wonderful time, Mrs. Wilmshurst.”

  “I hope that you will as well, darling.”

  “Oh, there’s no doubt about that. I have plans.”

  “Do they include me?”

  “You, me, and lots of champagne,” Nigel said, crossing over to her. “Happy?”

  “Deliriously.”

  “Did I surprise you?”

  “Completely,” she admitted. “When you told me we were going away for our honeymoon, I thought that meant the Isle of Wight or even Scotland. I never dreamed that I’d be spending the first month of married life in Egypt.”

  He kissed her on the lips. “The honeymoon begins here. On the Marmora.”

  “Do you think people will notice?”

  “Why? Would it trouble you if they did?”