by Sarah Jane
“She’s telling the truth,” Lucy said in a whisper when she couldn’t see the girl any longer.
Abigail looked confused.
“That girl is my father’s daughter,” Lucy said more loudly. “That girl is my sister!”
Abby took Lucy firmly by the arm to help keep her upright. Every bit of color was gone from her young mistress’s face, and if she hadn’t been holding the rail, Abby was certain Lucy would have fallen headlong down the stairs after the girl in the green coat—the girl Lucy believed to be her sister.
Abby had dozens of questions, but her doubts about the coat thief’s outrageous claim—that Phillip Miles was her father—had diminished the moment Lucy told her it was true. Besides, this was not the moment to ponder the hows or the whys.
The girl’s desperate protests continued to echo up the stairwell, answered only by the steward’s angry grunts. Abby kept hold of Lucy’s arm while Lucy pulled her down the stairs after them. For a long moment neither of them spoke; then Lucy broke the silence, muttering softly. Abby wasn’t sure if she was talking to her, or to herself.
“I know her. I feel I know her. She must be my father’s daughter, but we’ve never … I …” She trailed off, then turned back to Abby. “I have to help her!”
Abby nodded without slowing down. Yes, they had to help her, but how? Her thoughts flew as fast as her feet, and Abby was so focused on keeping herself and her companion upright that she nearly ran into someone coming up the stairs.
“Jasper!” Abby stopped short and pulled Lucy to a stop beside her. The always-smiling steward wasn’t smiling. Abby anxiously looked over his shoulder, but her brother was not there.
“Where’s Felix?” she blurted.
Jasper looked from Abby to Lucy, his eyes uncertain.
“It’s okay,” Abby assured him, understanding the unspoken question. “She knows.” She squeezed Lucy’s arm tighter—again grateful for her discretion and kindness in agreeing to keep Felix a secret.
“He slipped away from me. We were on the poop deck and I was telling him about the smokestacks and … he just disappeared. I was hoping he was with you,” Jasper confessed. “I’m so sorry. I was trying to keep him occupied—”
A loud wail echoed up the stairwell and Lucy gasped.
Abby sucked in a quick breath. “Felix will be fine,” she told Jasper. She wished she had time to explain everything. She wished she understood everything. “But right now we need to talk to that girl.” She pointed down the stairs and realized that Jasper must have passed her on the way up. “She has Miss Lucy’s coat, and that steward is taking her back to steerage.”
“Please, we have to help her!” Lucy added, stricken. She started to pull away from Abby to go after the girl on her own.
Jasper put a hand on Abby’s arm. “No,” he said firmly. “I’ll go. You two wait here.”
Abby watched Jasper turn and race down the stairs, taking them two at time. Lucy started to follow, but Abby held her back. “I think we should do as he says—he’ll have better luck without us.”
Lucy looked down. It was true—a girl, even one traveling in first class, didn’t stand a chance of convincing a crewman of much of anything. Jasper was young, but he had his uniform. “Even if he can’t bring her back, he can find out where she’s being taken.”
Lucy nodded, but Abby could tell that dark worries were already gnawing at her companion. She tried to think of something to say to ease Lucy’s concerns, but was too distracted by the pit of worry growing in her own stomach. Despite what she’d told Jasper, she was upset that Felix was on his own … upset and worried. Why did her little brother always pick the absolute worst times to go missing?
“He’ll be all right,” Lucy said, reading Abby’s troubled thoughts. “You said yourself that he’s a scrapper.”
Abby rolled her eyes and forced a smile. “That he is,” she admitted.
The girls’ conversation ended abruptly when they heard someone approaching from below. Abby held her breath and strained to make out the details. There were the footfalls of more than one person … and was that a male voice?
When Jasper came around the corner leading the girl in the coat, Abby could scarcely believe her eyes. The girl looked petrified, while Jasper looked as though he’d caught a prize fish. He flashed his crooked smile and Abby returned it.
Lucy stepped toward the girl without hesitation. She reached out her hand. “I’m Lucy Miles,” she said, introducing herself properly, as if they weren’t both wearing clothes that begged explanations, as if they hadn’t been secretly stalking each other. “And you must be … my sister?”
Abby stepped closer to Jasper. “How did you do that?” she asked him in a whisper. “How did you get her away from that other steward?”
“Oh, you’re not the only one around here who’s pulled a fast one or two,” Jasper whispered back. He looked from Abby to the sisters on the stairs and back. Clearly everyone in the stairwell had some tricks up their sleeves. “Speaking of scalawags, I’d better get back to tracking down that brother of yours before he gets into trouble. You can explain all of this to me later.”
Abby watched Jasper leave, wondering if she’d ever be able to explain “all of this.” She wanted to go with Jasper and find Felix … she needed to see her brother, to know that he was all right. And also to pinch his cheeks for running off!
Then she looked at Lucy, who was holding the hand of her newfound sister. The air was charged with questions and unspoken truths, and as much as she wanted to go, it was clear that she needed to stay for Lucy’s sake.
Isabella struggled to catch her breath. She was relieved to be away from the bulldog steward, but still felt as if she were blindfolded and walking a tightrope. Each step was an act of faith … she had no idea what lay below. If she slipped, would she plummet several stories to her death, or drop onto a feather bed?
She looked down at her hand, still clutching the fingers of the girl who had introduced herself as Lucy Miles, then turned her gaze toward Lucy’s face. She could see the resemblance to her father—their father—but, thank goodness, none of the cruelty. A small noise escaped her throat. A strangled sob of relief, she realized. But was it premature?
“Come,” Lucy said, tugging Isabella up the stairs and into the open air. Out on deck it was easier to breathe, but harder to hold back tears. Isabella found she could not contain her emotions any longer. Her shoulders shook and she covered her face. After everything she’d been through, this was too much.
“Oh, don’t cry!” Lucy said. “It’s going to be all right.” Isabella felt Lucy put an arm around her shoulders and slowly raised her head to look at the older girl … her sister … again. Her expression was kind. Isabella glanced over at the maid who had followed them up the stairs and was studying her carefully. Her expression was not so kind.
“What are you doing with Miss Miles’s coat?” the maid demanded suddenly.
“Don’t traumatize her, Abigail!” Lucy scolded, though not harshly. “We have plenty of time to unravel everything.” She smiled gently at Isabella and added, “I think you might hold the answers to many mysteries.” Lucy eyes were full of something Isabella couldn’t quite identify. Excitement? Hope? She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and tried to catch her breath.
“Let’s start with who you are,” Lucy said.
Isabella swallowed hard. Who was she, exactly? It was a simple question, one that she could have answered easily up until a few days ago. Oh, how things had changed!
“My name is Isabella,” she said slowly. “And I’m so sorry I took your coat! I was looking for you … and I found it on deck. I didn’t know it was yours, and certainly didn’t mean to steal it!” She unbuttoned the fine wool garment and was about to shrug out of it when Lucy stopped her again.
“You were looking for me?” she asked, her surprise obvious. “Why?”
“I wasn’t looking for you exactly … not at first.” Isabella leaned back against the dec
k rail, unsure of where to begin. It was all so complicated!
“Perhaps we should sit,” Lucy said. She led them to some deck chairs in a quiet corner. When they were seated, she looked at Isabella with eyes so nearly like the pair that stared back at her from the glass each day that Isabella had to look away.
“Can we start at the beginning?” Lucy asked. “Please tell me who you are and why you were looking for me.”
Isabella looked from Lucy, to the maid, and back. It all felt entirely surreal! And yet here she was, on board the Titanic, sitting across from a sister she’d never known. The thing to do now, it seemed, was to simply tell the truth.
“Miss, I am your sister,” Isabella said. The words felt strange in her mouth, and sounded even stranger in the air. She expected Lucy to laugh or gasp or slap her. The wealthy young girl had no reason to believe her, and any proof that Isabella might have been able to provide was now somewhere in the icy North Atlantic. She had nothing to offer … and nothing to lose. She drew a deep breath. “My name is Isabella.”
Lucy stared intently for several more long seconds. “You are my little sister, aren’t you?” she asked. Her voice wavered and her hand flew up to cover her mouth. “You don’t have to say it again. I know you are! I recognized you the moment I saw you.” Her eyes glistened as she threw both of her arms around Isabella.
Isabella was too stunned to hug her sister back. She felt relief—Lucy believed her! But she still felt afraid.
She pulled away. She had more to tell, and much of it would be difficult to hear.
“My parents, the parents who raised me, bought me a ticket and put me aboard. They gave me a letter that explained who I was and why I was to travel to America on the Titanic.”
“And Father threw it away,” Lucy finished for her.
Isabella nodded. “There was also a birth certificate,” she explained. “It was supposed to have been destroyed, but one of your servants pulled it from the fireplace and recently delivered it to the parents who raised me. It was my only proof that I am part of the Miles family, and my adoptive parents hoped it would compel your father to help me when we reached New York. That is why I was looking for him.
“When I found the coat I thought it would help me go unnoticed during my search of the first- and second-class areas of the ship. I put it on so I could look for all of you,” she confessed. “I never meant to steal it.”
Lucy and the maid exchanged a look, and her sister touched the worn shawl she was wearing. “And I wore this to search for you,” she said.
Isabella would have liked to smile at the coincidence—the two of them trading places to look for each other—but she had not yet told Lucy the most difficult part of her story. “Wearing your coat allowed me to find your … our … father,” she hesitated, searching for the courage needed to get the next part out. “Only when I did, I wished I hadn’t.” A fresh wash of tears sprang to Isabella’s eyes at the memory of Phillip Miles boasting about his evil scheme. His plan was so cruel it was difficult for her to speak it out loud, and yet she had no choice.
“I overheard him bragging about putting your … I mean our … mother in a sanatorium in America, and sending you to boarding school! He means to go back to England with your mother’s money and leave your uncle to foot the bill. When I heard that, I knew I had to find you, to warn you.”
Lucy drew back from Isabella. Her eyes narrowed and she wiped away the tears that had been threatening to spill from them. “Father.” She spoke the word under her breath, as if it was something that should not be uttered out loud. “I’ve had misgivings about him for some time now … But this …” The dismay on Lucy’s face hardened into anger. “I never would have predicted something so nefarious!”
“Nefarious indeed,” a deep voice said.
Lucy looked up and blanched. A man was looming over them … a man with an angry red scar running down his cheek.
Lucy watched Abby shrink back in fear, but her little sister didn’t seem intimidated in the least.
“You!” Isabella said.
The man’s face softened as he gazed down at the three girls. “Name’s Greer,” he said. “Nicholas Greer. Are you Phillip Miles’s daughter?” he asked Lucy.
“Daughters,” Lucy corrected, glancing at her sister with a small smile. “Yes.”
“And your mother, Elisabeth Miles, is she traveling with you?”
“Would you mind telling me why that is any of your concern?” Abby blurted protectively.
The man shuffled his feet on the deck, seeming suddenly uncomfortable in his clothes. “Your father owes people a lot of money back in London, Miss. I was paid to follow him, to make sure he settles his debts. But I didn’t know about his family when I accepted the job …”
Greer trailed off. His face was full of apology, and Lucy saw that up close his scar was far less noticeable beside his warm eyes.
“I’m supposed to see to it that your father settles his accounts no matter what. But when I got wind of his plans … I …”
He trailed off a second time, as if he wasn’t sure he should continue. He looked out to sea for a moment before turning back to the girls and clearing his throat. He had made a decision.
“Miss Miles, you tell your mother not to let her husband lay hands on any more of her money. He has done enough.”
Lucy stared up at Greer. How strange that he knew more about her father than she did. And stranger still that the story she’d just heard from her sister was now confirmed by this rough-looking man she’d only just met.
This kind, rough-looking man, she corrected herself.
Lucy reached out a hand and touched the edge of his sleeve. “Thank you, Mr. Greer,” she said. “I will warn my mother just as you suggest.”
Nicholas Greer smiled faintly and gave a small nod. He looked satisfied and also resigned. He had failed to do his job the moment he warned the girls.
Greer tipped his hat. “Well, good afternoon, then,” he said.
Lucy watched him go, surprised to realize that her father’s awfulness had quite plainly brought out the good in Nicholas Greer.
Abby watched Nicholas Greer walk stoically across the deck, suddenly realizing that his eyes reminded her of her late father’s. Her heart was heavy with the thought. Oh, how she missed her parents!
“I have seen him several times,” Isabella told Lucy. “At first trying to get out of steerage and later on deck,” she squeezed her sister’s hand. “But I had no idea he was looking for you!”
“I also saw him but did not know,” Abby agreed, feeling at once a part of this conversation and also removed from it—from the two girls sitting across from her. She’d been listening rapt to Isabella’s tale, sometimes even feeling as though Isabella was a gift to her as well. And yet something inside told her that this was not true. Something reminded her that she was separate from the Miles sisters … maybe even more separate now that there were two of them.
Could she truly be Miss Lucy’s sister? Abby wondered. It seemed she must be, for who could come up with such an outrageous tale? Besides, Isabella’s resemblance to Miss Lucy was undeniable. That seemed proof enough. And Miss Lucy had said she could feel their sisterhood.
But there was something else. One piece of the puzzle was stuck in the back of her mind and quickly growing into a question—a question she could barely form into words. A question that needed to be asked immediately.
“Pardon me, Miss Isabella,” she interrupted, her stomach suddenly in knots. “How did you happen to come by that birth certificate? Who gave it to your mother?”
Isabella turned, her brow creasing in thought. “Mother wrote in her letter that she got it from a maid … a maid in the Miles house,” she replied.
Lucy’s hand flew to her mouth while tears sprang to Abby’s eyes.
“Oh, Abigail, it could only have been your mother!”
Abby knew it was true before Lucy said it, and it unleashed a terrible thought that sent her mind reeling. She felt
as though the entire ship suddenly listed and her whole world was thrown off-balance.
“Do you think … do you think that’s wh—” Abby could not get the words out.
Isabella stared at her, wide-eyed and not quite comprehending. “Your mother brought the letter,” she repeated.
“And now my mother is dead,” Abby said.
A heavy silence fell over the girls.
“She couldn’t live with Master Miles’s wrong, so she made a choice,” Abby blurted as she swallowed her tears. Isabella was here because of her mother’s bravery and conviction. “A choice that cost her everything.”
“Oh, Abigail!” Lucy rushed to put her arms around Abby as the weight of the sacrifice and the horror of what her father had done crushed down upon them both.
“My mother gave her life,” Abby said in a whisper.
Lucy leaned in close and spoke so softly that Abby could barely hear. “And my father took it.”
Abby laid her head on Lucy’s shoulder and let the tears fall. She sat there for several long moments, until she felt the other girl’s back go rigid. Until Lucy pulled away slightly. She was looking at Abby with fire in her eyes.
“We won’t let him get away with it,” she vowed.
“Whatever is the matter, Lucy?” Elisabeth Miles asked, looking up from the book in her lap. Lucy turned on her heel and paced across the room, eyeing the clock on the mantel. This had been the absolute longest day of her life, and she was exhausted. Her mother, on the other hand, seemed full of energy after her lengthy tonic-induced sleep. She’d slept for a night and most of a day and, after another night’s sleep, was now perky as a chipmunk when she would normally be fast asleep. It was fortuitous in a way, since Abigail and Isabella were going to appear at the door any moment, but Lucy was drained and anxious.