Duke of a Gilded Age

by S. G. Rogers

  In her cabin, Belle removed her hat, unpinned her windblown hair, and brushed it vigorously. She twisted her tresses into a loose coil, secured it with hairpins and a tortoiseshell comb decorated with moonstones, and examined the effect in the looking glass. Unbidden, a question popped into her mind. Does Wesley think I’m pretty? It was doubtful, if his taste ran to temperamental, red-headed Irish girls. Belle frowned at the mirror. Her complexion and straight teeth were praiseworthy, she’d been told, but she had a pair of dreaded dimples to deal with. Stephen Van Eyck had flirted with her, but Belle couldn’t help but think he would flirt with any girl he came across. Oddly enough, Wesley Parker wasn’t a flirt, and had never mentioned her looks, but when she was with him, Belle felt prettier than she ever had before.

  The roll of the Atlantic Ocean made itself known as she left her cabin and ascended the stairs to the saloon deck. The soreness in her muscles made it difficult to move effortlessly, so she kept a firm grip on the handrail. As she approached the saloon, the sound of music and laughter floated into the hallway. An unaccustomed fit of shyness slowed her pace. For some strange reason, however, Cavendish flashed into her mind. He was a mere valet, but his carriage and demeanor bespoke a far grander heritage. If Cavendish can manage to pull off a regal attitude, then so will I. Belle lifted her head and sailed into the dining hall as if she were a princess.

  Captain Howe stood just inside the wide glass doors, greeting his first class passengers with affable charm. Although her legs screamed in protest, Belle managed a creditable curtsy. Unfortunately, the ship chose that exact moment to pitch to the side. Her muscles were unable to compensate for the sudden movement, and she tumbled over. A gasp of horror went up throughout the hall, accompanied by several titters. Embarrassed, Belle wanted to die on the spot. She contemplated crawling under a table, but Stephen Van Eyck rushed forward, dropped to one knee, and offered Belle his hand. “I must say, Miss Oakhurst, that was quite an entrance. Will you allow me to assist you?”

  “Thank you, Mr. Van Eyck,” she managed.

  Her face flaming, Belle took his hand and got to her feet. The surrounding onlookers burst into applause, which coaxed a smile to her lips.

  “Are you injured, miss?” Captain Howe asked.

  “Only my pride, Captain.”

  “I’m afraid we may be in for some rough seas,” the captain said.

  “I’ll try to make the best of it, sir,” she said.

  Stephen offered Belle his arm and led her into the reception.

  Wesley gnashed his teeth as he hastened over to Stephen and Belle. It should’ve been me to help, not that smug New England swell!

  “Are you all right, Miss Oakhurst?” he asked.

  “I’m humiliated, but beyond that I’m perfectly fine,” she replied, still flustered. “I blame the Statue of Liberty.”

  Wesley laughed despite himself.

  “What?” Stephen asked, bewildered. “Did I hear you correctly?”

  “Wesley and I climbed to her crown yesterday and I, for one, am a bit worse for wear,” she said.

  Louise approached, her eyes shining. “Annabelle, that was brilliant!” she exclaimed. “Everybody is talking about you, and how gallant Stephen was just now.”

  “You mean they are laughing at me,” Belle said.

  “Perhaps some were, at first. But now ladies will now be falling over at the slightest wave, hoping for rescue.”

  “I didn’t do it on purpose. It was all very bad timing.” Belle looked around. “Is my father here?”

  “Not yet, nor my mother,” Wesley replied. “I’m sure they’ll both be along directly.”

  Her composure slightly recovered, Belle was finally able to take in her surroundings. The magnificent two-story saloon had a barrel ceiling of stained glass skylights, sixty-three feet long and twenty-five feet wide. Two rows of long tables stretched from one side of the room to the other, flanked by upholstered mahogany swivel chairs attached to the floor. In between the long tables was a wide carpet runner. Smaller alcoves, complete with ocean view portholes, lined either side of the hall. These alcoves were fitted with smaller tables for family or group dining. Altogether, three hundred diners could be accommodated at once. Dark, gleaming woodwork defined the lower half of the dining room. Up above, the woodwork had been painted ivory to give a light, soaring look to the hall. Directly over the spot where Belle had fallen, on the second story, was a small glassed-in bay window where the drawing room looked out over the saloon.

  “This is very elegant,” Belle said, as she admired the turquoise, amethyst, and topaz colors in the stained glass ceiling. “Except for the movement of the ocean, I’d suppose this was a five star hotel.”

  Arrangements of food had been set up on the sideboards bracketing the doorway. Waiters were circulating with trays of drinks, as well as pots of coffee and tea. Belle’s stomach gurgled with hunger.

  “Shall we get something to eat?” she suggested.

  “Make yourself comfortable, Miss Oakhurst, and I’ll fix you a plate,” Stephen said.

  “How kind of you,” she replied.

  A muscle quivered in Wesley’s jaw. “I’d be happy to oblige, Miss Van Eyck.”

  Louise beamed. “Thank you ever so much.”

  Wesley and Stephen departed for the sideboards. As Belle and Louise headed for a booth, Mrs. Van Eyck crossed their path.

  “I hope you are uninjured, Miss Oakhurst?” Mrs. Van Eyck asked. “You took quite a tumble.”

  “Yes, thank you. I’m recovered now,” Belle said.

  “Louise informs me your grandfather is a baronet. I’d like to hear more about him at some point.”

  Belle covered her dismay with a smile. “I look forward to chatting with you, Mrs. Van Eyck.”

  “Excellent. Please excuse me.”

  Mrs. Van Eyck joined a group of ladies at a table nearby, and Belle and Louise settled into an unoccupied booth.

  “Mama has noticed Stephen likes you,” Louise said. “Expect to be vetted.”

  Belle was taken aback. “I should hope he likes me well enough, but as a friendly acquaintance. He knows I’m engaged.”

  “Stephen didn’t offer to get me food and he’s my elder brother!”

  “He’s all politeness, I’m sure.”

  “I don’t think that’s it.”

  As Stephen and Wesley returned with plates of food, the ship’s movement caused them to stagger a bit along the way. Stephen put a plate in front of Belle and sat across the table from her with a plate of his own.

  “This is lovely, thank you Mr. Van Eyck.” Belle picked up a scone, still warm from the oven.

  Wesley set Louise’s plate down. “I didn’t know what you liked, Miss Van Eyck, so there’s a little bit of everything.”

  “Thank you, Wesley,” she said, giving him a pretty smile.

  “My pleasure.”

  “The storm has picked up,” Stephen said. “I could barely keep my footing a few moments ago.” He folded a moist piece of lemon cake into his mouth.

  “I expect the waves will soon confine many people to their cabins, fighting seasickness,” Belle said.

  “I feel fine so far,” Wesley said.

  “Me too.” Louise helped herself to a triangular sandwich with visible layers of mustard and delicate, thinly sliced pink ham. “In fact, I’m starving.”

  A waiter stopped by their table with glasses of ice water. A woman, her face quite green, suddenly hurried past with a handkerchief pressed to her lips. She rushed from the room, followed by a worried-looking gentleman Belle presumed to be the woman’s husband.

  “The first casualty of the night?” Wesley murmured.

  Stephen chuckled. “Probably not the last.”

  “We all may find ourselves knocked flat before it’s through.” Wesley picked up a crustless minced roast beef sandwich.

  “Let’s hope for the best,” Belle said. She glanced over her shoulder, a worried expression on her face.

  “Miss Oakhurst, is
there something wrong?” Wesley asked.

  “I’m concerned about my father. He should’ve been here by now.”

  “You’re right,” Wesley said. “That goes for my mother, too.”

  He beckoned to a waiter. “I’m the Duke of Mansbury. May I ask someone to inquire after Mr. Oakhurst and Lady Frederic?”

  “Right away, Your Grace.”

  The waiter managed to hasten from the room despite the rising and falling floor.

  “That was very thoughtful, Wesley,” Belle said.

  Stephen cleared his throat. “I’ll be happy to check on your father personally, Miss Oakhurst, if you give me his cabin number.”

  “That won’t be necessary, Mr. Van Eyck,” Belle said. “But it’s very thoughtful of you too.”

  “One might say it was unusually thoughtful of you, Stephen,” Louise said drily.

  Mrs. Van Eyck hastened past the table just then, with her hand over her mouth. Louise grimaced. “Oh dear. Mama’s ill. I should go help, but I’m not sure what I could do for her.”

  “Make sure the steward brings her some bark tea,” Belle said. “It eases the nausea.”

  “Right. Capital idea.”

  Casting a furtive look around, Louise grabbed a sandwich from her plate and hurried off.

  “Well, that’s bad luck, isn’t it?” Belle said.

  The waiter returned and bowed to Wesley. “Excuse me, Your Grace. Lady Frederic and Mr. Oakhurst have both succumbed to mal de mer.”

  “Oh, no.” Belle frowned. “And after my father did so well on our last voyage too! I should make sure he’s drinking bark tea too. Excuse me, gentlemen.”

  She left her plate largely untouched, and followed Louise from the saloon. Wesley and Stephen exchanged a rueful smile and a shrug before devouring every last crumb of food on the table.

  “Well…what should we do now?” Wesley asked.

  “There’s always the smoking room.”

  “I don’t smoke, do you?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “We could play cards…or cribbage,” Wesley said. “There are probably games in the library.”

  “Let’s go have a look.”

  Chapter Ten

  Friends & Rivals

  NESTLED AS IT WAS BETWEEN the first and second smokestack on the ship, the walnut-paneled library on the promenade deck was oddly shaped. On one wall, hundreds of brightly bound books filled elegantly finished cases built to curve around the smokestacks. On the opposite side of the room, a cozy semi-circular ottoman invited long hours of repose. Overhead, rain thrummed steadily against an inset stained glass octagonal skylight. Bracketing the skylight were two wooden pillars intersecting square writing tables. There, passengers could sit and read, or choose one of the other upholstered, skirted chairs available for such a task.

  When Stephen and Wesley entered the carpeted library, it was unoccupied. They spent a few minutes admiring the gold-lettered books, the paneled ceiling, and the stained glass windows upon which quotations of maritime poetry had been inscribed.

  “I want a library like this when I grow up,” Stephen said.

  Wesley chuckled. “There are worse aspirations.”

  Board games of all sorts could be found in the cabinets underneath the bookshelves. They played several lively games of checkers, punctuated by occasional epithets such as “foul fiend!” and retorts such as “scoundrel!” At one point the seas became so rough the checkers slid from the board. The game was ruined, so Stephen sat back with his hands laced behind his head.

  “Tell me, Wesley, do you have plans when you get to Europe?”

  “I really haven’t had time to make any. When my attorney feels up to it, I’ll broach the subject with him.”

  “Your attorney?”

  “Miss Oakhurst’s father.”

  Recognition dawned on Stephen’s face. “Oh, so that’s why she’s traveling with you. I thought perhaps you and the Oakhursts were old family friends.”

  “I haven’t known her long, but Miss Oakhurst and I have become friends. I suppose my first task is to settle into my estate, and then I’ll decide what to do. Before I found out about the inheritance, I was to begin a teaching job in the fall. I think now, however, I’ll turn my hand to writing a book.”

  “Why don’t you consider coming to London? We’ll be in town a great deal. There are bound to be parties and such. You and I could knock about together.”

  “Two American gentlemen in London—it would be fun, wouldn’t it? I’m informed I’ve a townhouse there.”

  “That’s perfect, then!”

  “Only…I must ask what your intentions are toward Miss Oakhurst. You know she’s engaged, don’t you?”

  Stephen threw his head back and laughed. “Engaged isn’t married, Wesley.” His lips curved in a smirk. “You like her a great deal, don’t you?”

  “She’s made it clear she’s spoken for. Besides which, in the recent past Miss Oakhurst has compared me to a delinquent.”

  “It could be she prefers delinquents to knights.”

  “I doubt that. I’m probably not good enough for her, if truth be told.”

  “But you’re rich and you’ve a title.”

  “A title means nothing.”

  “Not to you or me, but to these Brits it counts for a great deal. You could possess two horns and a pointed tail, but if you’re a duke, the English girls come flocking.”

  “Are you suggesting I have two horns and a pointed tail?”

  Stephen’s eyebrows waggled up and down. “I hadn’t noticed one way or the other.”

  At that, Wesley laughed. In fact, he found he was enjoying himself tremendously. Stephen Van Eyck isn’t bad company at all…as long as he keeps his distance from Belle.

  “Shall we have one last game before we dress for dinner?” Stephen asked.

  Wesley checked his timepiece and nodded. “Yes, but I claim the red checkers this time.”

  “A fitting color for an American devil.”

  Wesley returned to his cabin, fully expecting to find Cavendish drunk or flat on his back with nausea. Instead, he discovered the man wielding a pair of long whalebone needles and a skein of woolen yarn.

  “You’re knitting!” Wesley exclaimed.

  “Ah, yes. I learned to knit years ago from a seaman when we sailed ’round the Cape of Good Hope. I’ve enough yarn for a scarf and a sleeping cap, I believe.”

  Cavendish put down his needles and stood. “I’ve laid out a fresh change of clothes, Your Grace. As you are to dine at the captain’s table this evening, I thought white tie would be appropriate.”

  “What makes you think I’m dining with the captain?”

  Cavendish picked up an envelope. “His personal invitation was delivered about an hour ago.”

  “Oh.” Wesley peered at Cavendish. “How is it you’re so hale?”

  “Knitting has a soothing effect.”

  Her father’s stomach seemed to settle after he drank his tea, but to Belle’s dismay, Mr. Oakhurst begged off dinner. “It would be better for all concerned if I stayed here. I’m not altogether certain I could hold anything down.”

  As if to underscore the accuracy of his statement, the ship rose and fell on the crest of a wave at that moment. Mr. Oakhurst groaned and lowered himself gingerly onto his bed.

  “Run along, my dear. I’m glad one of us is still fit. Have you any information on the Parkers?”

  “Lady Frederic took to her cabin earlier this afternoon. When I last saw him, Wesley was fine.”

  “Perhaps the young are more resilient. Please turn the light off when you leave.”

  With one last sympathetic glance over her shoulder, Belle left her father’s cabin and headed to dinner. Soothing music, from a musician’s alcove set high above in a balcony at the end of the hall, greeted her as she entered the saloon. She’d dressed in a dinner gown with a sapphire and black striped bodice and a plain sapphire skirt. The arms were long and fitted, with puffs at the top of the sleeves, a
nd the neckline formed a gentle curve across her décolleté. The hall was only two-thirds full, which was not surprising considering the seasickness that had befallen so many passengers. Waiters flitted throughout the room as they brought drinks and dispensed menus with practiced alacrity.

  Belle hesitated in the doorway. She scanned the crowd, searching for Wesley, but didn’t find him. She’d resigned herself to sitting at one of the long tables, alone, when she spotted Louise and Stephen waving at her from an alcove. As she drew nearer, Belle noticed three other young people at their table, in addition to the Van Eycks. The eldest gentleman was not more than twenty years old, and the two girls were slightly younger.

  The gentlemen stood as Belle approached. Stephen gave her an admiring glance.

  “Good evening, Miss Oakhurst,” Stephen said.

  “Good evening, Mr. Van Eyck.” Belle slid into a chair next to Louise.

  “If you’re looking for Wesley, he’s seated at the captain’s table up front,” Louise said.

  “Oh?” Belle tried to cover her disappointment. “Of course he would be. I hope your mother is better?”

  “Mama is as well as can be expected,” Louise said. “She conveys her thanks for suggesting the bark tea.”

  “Apple bark tea proved invaluable to many of the passengers on my last voyage, but the seas were not quite so rough then. Will you introduce me to your friends?”

  “Yes, of course.” Louise cleared her throat. “Miss Oakhurst, may I present Miss Stacy Egermand, Miss Eva Egermand, and Mr. Carl Stanger from Chicago.”

  Carl’s self-effacing grin reminded Belle of Wesley. “Actually, it’s Stenger and Egermann.”

  Louise threw her hands up in defeat. “I’m so sorry!”

  “No reason to apologize, Miss Van Eyck. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Oakhurst,” Carl said.

  “Thank you,” Belle replied.

  Stacy gave Belle an appraising look. “Miss Van Eyck informs me that your grandfather is a baronet.”