The Secret Woman

by Victoria Holt

  “The Captain is looking after his wife, I suppose,” said Mrs. Blakey.

  “He is taking her visiting—agents and their families and so on, I believe. If she’s well enough.”

  “She seems a little improved.”

  “It’s the sunshine, this dry warmth is so good for her. We are going for a tour of the town.”

  “We?” I asked.

  “A party of us.” She was vague. Rex? I wondered. She said quickly: “You two ought to come to some arrangement. It doesn’t need two of you to look after the boys. You could take it in turns. You see what I mean, Anna, you could look after two as well as one, and leave Mrs. Blakey free sometimes. And vice versa.”

  Mrs. Blakey thought it was an excellent idea, and I agreed that it was.

  “We must think about it,” I said.

  “Anna is the most conscientious woman in the world,” laughed Chantel.

  The ship was lying some distance from the port and when we took the boys on deck they were greatly excited by the sight of young Arabs no bigger than themselves who were swimming out to the ship and begging for coins. When these were thrown into the sea they dived for them, right down to the harbor bed. The water was so clear that we could see the coins and the dark wriggling bodies as they went under.

  Edward and Johnny shrieked with pleasure, and wanted to throw pennies into the water; we had some difficulty in preventing their jumping in themselves. But I was caught up in the excitement just as they were.

  Miss Rundle strolled along and stood with us, watching.

  “It’s begging,” she said, “nothing more.”

  Her nose twitched in the unpleasant way it had, but the sun was too warm, the excitement too great for us to take much notice.

  And then another voice spoke behind us.

  I felt the color rise in my cheeks and I couldn’t help being aware of Miss Rundle’s observant eyes.

  “Good morning, Captain.” Mrs. Blakey spoke first.

  “Good morning,” I said.

  Edward stood still, overawed, and I knew that the sight of his father pleased him even more than that of little Arabs diving for pennies.

  “Good morning, Captain,” said Miss Rundle. “We don’t often have the pleasure of seeing you.”

  “How good of you to refer to it as a pleasure. But you see I’m in charge of the ship and it’s been taking up most of my time and attention. Later when we get a run at sea I might be able to avail myself of the pleasure of your company.”

  She was pleased by his remark; she tittered a little.

  “Well, Captain, we shall look forward to that.”

  I thought: He can charm even her.

  “And is my son enjoying the trip?” he asked.

  “Aye, aye, sir,” said Edward, and we all laughed.

  Johnny said: “You’re a real captain, are you, sir?”

  “Absolutely real,” replied Redvers. “Guaranteed not to disappear in a puff of smoke. So don’t be afraid when you see Gulli-Gulli tonight.”

  “Gulli-Gulli?” cried Edward on a shrill note of excitement.

  “Mystery man,” said the Captain. “You wait and see.”

  “When? Why?” cried the children simultaneously.

  “Tonight. I daresay you will be allowed to sit up for him.” He turned to us and smiled and my heart beat faster and I fervently hoped I didn’t betray my feelings.

  “What time does this mystery man appear?” asked Mrs. Blakey.

  “Half-past eight. We shan’t linger over dinner.”

  “Please,” cried Edward, and then, “Gulli-Gulli. Gulli-Gulli.”

  “Well, I think this once, don’t you?” I said to Mrs. Blakey.

  She agreed.

  The Captain said: “I wanted to see you.” He was looking straight at me and smiling and I knew I was not hiding my feelings adequately. It was ridiculous, it was unwise; it was wrong to feel like this about another woman’s husband. My only excuse was that it had happened before I knew.

  He went on: “You’ll be doing a little sightseeing, I suppose. I wanted to tell you not to go unaccompanied. I’ve arranged for a conveyance for you both and the boys. The First Officer will go with you.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  He bowed and left us. Edward’s eyes followed him adoringly; I wondered if mine did the same.

  Miss Rundle sniffed slightly. “He has quite a reputation,” she said.

  I glanced at the children and she shrugged her shoulders. I felt very angry with the woman.

  It was two hours before we left the ship and set off in the company of the First Officer, who took us to the mosque where we heard the call to prayer from the high tower and went into the bazaars. I bought some white and gold slippers with pointed toes which curled up at the tips and a piece of turquoise colored silk with which I thought I might make a dress.

  There were spangled scarves in lovely bright colors to be bought very cheaply and I thought one might help me to dress up for the fancy dress dance. Mrs. Blakey bought perfume of which there was a great deal for sale. It was very strong, and smelled of musk. For the boys we bought a red tarboosh apiece and these they delightedly wore. We agreed though that they should have a rest in the afternoon as they were to have a late night and we returned to the ship all of us rather exhausted by the sudden change of temperature.

  Chantel did not return until an hour or so before dinner.

  I had gone to her cabin earlier to find it empty. I wondered where she was. I went back to my cabin and when she did come she asked me to come into her cabin to see her purchases. She had bought several bottles of the Egyptian perfume, a necklace and bracelet, and swinging earrings made of gold and lapis lazuli.

  “They are lovely,” I cried. “They must have cost a great deal.”

  She laughed at me. And I thought: Rex has given them to her.

  “Well,” she said, “you must remember that things are cheaper here than at home.”

  She sat on her bed trying the various perfumes; the cabin was full of the smell of musk and flowers—not our English spring flowers with their light refreshing scents but the heavy exotic essences of the East.

  “I shall go as Queen Nefertiti, I think.”

  “A Queen’s a step up from a Chatelaine,” I commented.

  “Nurse Loman must always be at the top. Who was Nefertiti?”

  “A Queen of Egypt. I think her husband had one of her eyes put out because she was so beautiful he thought other men might covet her.”

  “A pure example of masculine beastliness. I shall be Nefertiti. I’m sure she kept both eyes to the end—and she was more beautiful anyway. So…Nefertiti is my choice for the moment.”

  “And Rex Crediton?” I asked.

  “Oh, he’s going as a grave robber. He’ll be attired in a burnoose and have the requisite tools or whatever they used to open the graves of departed Kings and rob them of their treasures.”

  “So you have been exchanging ideas?”

  “Well, it’s not a masked ball this time. There’s no need for secrecy. Do try this scent, Anna. H’m. It’s strange, don’t you agree? The haunting perfume of the East. But I must get ready for dinner. Look at the time.”

  I left her thinking that although she talked a great deal she told me very little—and the one thing I wanted to know was how deeply she was involved with Rex Crediton. I should, of course, have been worrying about my own reactions to the Captain. But I should never betray my feelings, I assured myself. No one will ever know.

  The Egyptian conjuror known as the Gulli-Gulli man who came aboard at Port Said to entertain us with his tricks was a great success—particularly with Edward and Johnny. Chairs were arranged in a circle round a space in the middle of the lounge and the two boys sat cross-legged on the floor in the front.

  The burnoose gave the conju
ror the added touch of mystery in their eyes and his wide sleeves must have been a great asset in his work. He did wonders with rings and paper; but the chief trick was the sudden production of living baby chicks which he produced from the strangest places, including the pockets of the boys. He used both boys to hold his rings and papers or whatever he was working with and I doubt whether either of them had ever enjoyed anything so much.

  When he put his hands into Johnny’s coat and brought out the two baby chicks, they leaped about in their excitement; and when he did the same to Edward they were rolling about with laughter and delight. With the conclusion of each trick the conjuror uttered the cry of “Gulli-Gulli”; and the boys joined in, clapping their heartfelt approval.

  That night, exhausted as Edward was, it was long before he slept. The Gulli-Gulli man had left the ship and we had begun our progress down the Canal.

  It was a lovely night—there was a moon and the sight of those sandy shores and the occasional palm tree through my porthole window was so alluring that I could not resist slipping out of my cabin and going onto the top deck.

  It was deserted and as I leaned over the rail I wondered what Aunt Charlotte would say if she could see me now. My lips curled into a smile as I thought of her disapproval.

  “Hello.”

  I turned and he was standing there. The moonlight on his bronzed face seemed to make it glow. He was wearing the white dinner jacket and I could understand why Edward thought of him as a kind of super being.

  “Hello,” I said rather uncertainly.

  “I haven’t had much opportunity of speaking to you alone since we left England,” he replied.

  “Of course not. You have the ship to look after. The passengers are another matter.”

  “They are my concern too.”

  “Everything on this ship is, I know. But we can be safely left to ourselves.”

  “That is what we hope,” he said. “Are you enjoying the trip?”

  “I should say like Edward, ‘Aye aye, sir.’”

  “He’s a bright little fellow,” he said.

  “Very. And you are his ideal.”

  “Didn’t I say he was bright?” He was flippant but somehow I sensed a seriousness in his mood. Then he said an astonishing thing: “I notice that you have become rather friendly with Dick Callum.”

  “Oh yes, he has been very helpful.”

  “He has more opportunities of mingling with the guests than I have. It’s the nature of our work—although when we’re in port he can be busy.”

  “One just thinks of a ship sailing comfortably along, I’m afraid. One forgets that it is all due to the expert work of the Captain and his crew.”

  He touched my hand lightly and briefly as it lay on the rail. “Do you miss the Queen’s House?”

  “In a way.”

  “I’m afraid we can’t offer you Louis Quinze settees on board.”

  I laughed. “I should have been very surprised to have found them here; and in any case they would be most unsuitable. That’s the whole point about choosing furniture. The surroundings are as important as the pieces themselves.” I surprised myself by saying vehemently: “I’m glad to have got away from the Queen’s House.”

  With that remark our mood changed.

  He was suddenly serious. “I can understand it. I thought of you often.”

  “Did you?”

  “Because of that evening. It was a very pleasant evening for me. And for you?”

  “And for me.”

  “And then it changed suddenly, didn’t it? It was only when your aunt appeared that I realized what an exceptional evening it had been. There she stood like an avenging angel with the sword of flame. Get out of Eden, you miserable sinners.”

  I laughed. “That’s carrying the simile too far, I think.”

  “And then she died.”

  “That was much later.”

  “And there were rumors. I’m sorry, perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned them. Perhaps it upsets you when people talk of them.”

  “Not you,” I said. I no longer cared how I betrayed myself. I was happy now as I had been on that evening in the Queen’s House. He—and he alone—had that power to make me throw all caution to the winds.

  “She died, and there was some doubt how,” he went on. “And for a while that must have been very unpleasant for you.”

  “Yes,” I said. “You see it seemed so incredible that she should take her life. It was so unlike her. And then of course she was incapacitated. But for Chantel…Nurse Loman…I don’t know what would have happened. I think it might have been…horrifying.”

  “People do strange things. One can never be sure of their motives. If she did not kill herself, who else would have done it?”

  “I’ve often thought of that. There was Ellen, who desperately wanted to get married and was afraid Mr. Orfey never would marry her if she didn’t bring Aunt Charlotte’s legacy to him, and she wouldn’t have that until she died, of course.”

  “That seems a good enough motive.”

  “But it’s so trivial and I could never see Ellen as a murderess. I could much more easily imagine Mrs. Morton as one. She was something of a mystery. There was a daughter who was ill and she longed to be with her. I knew that she was only staying with Aunt Charlotte in the hope of what she would get on her death. I never really knew Mrs. Morton in spite of all the years in the Queen’s House. Then of course there was myself—the main beneficiary, who was not on the best of terms with her and who would inherit everything.”

  “Which I gather was not very much.”

  “I was not to know that. It was only after she died that I realized how hopelessly in debt we were.”

  “I believe you were very unhappy at that time.”

  “It was…horrible. People in the streets looked at me furtively, whispered about me.”

  “I know,” he said.

  “You know.”

  “I know what it means to be under a cloud.” I stared at the land, grayish in moonlight, at the indigo sky and the myriads of stars; the air seemed scented with the faint smell of musk.

  “Have you heard any rumors…concerning me?” he asked.

  “What rumors? I don’t understand.”

  “I thought perhaps you might. From Callum, for instance. Has anyone mentioned The Secret Woman?”

  “I may have heard the name of the ship but he has told me nothing about it.”

  “You may well hear something,” he said, “and if you did I should like you to hear it from me.”

  “It was the ship on which you sailed after…”

  “Yes, after that evening when you entertained me at the Queen’s House. I want to tell you about that voyage. It was a disaster and is a mystery to this day.”

  “Tell me then.”

  “Callum was my purser on The Secret Woman as he is on this ship. Several members of the crew who were with me then are with me now. She was different from Serene Lady. She was a sailing ship.”

  “She was also a woman,” I said.

  “Odd. It seemed to make a difference. She was a beauty. What we call a barkentine made for the China trade. I was taking her out to Sydney via the Cape and then I was going on to the islands. We had a few passengers on board as we have on this one and one of these was a jewel merchant, John Fillimore. He was taking out a fine collection of diamonds and was going to look at Australian opals. He was a garrulous man who liked to talk of the deals he had made and wanted everyone to know how astute he was. And he died.”

  “You mean…”

  “I mean that he died. Dr. Gregory diagnosed a seizure. We had dined one evening and afterward had gone to the bar and he had taken I think a brandy or two. He drank rather much. Then he went to his cabin. Next morning when his steward went in he found him dead.”

  “Dr. Gregory was on
The Secret Woman too.”

  “Yes, he was ship’s doctor then as now. It’s a feature of our line that we always carry a doctor. Generally, it is only done when the number of passengers is considerably larger. We buried John Fillimore at sea but the diamonds were missing.”

  “Did he keep them in his cabin?”

  “That was where he was foolish. They were worth a fortune, he said. We had pointed out to him that he would be wise to put them in our safe, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Not, he said, while we were in port. Someone could blow the safe and make off with the diamonds. He wasn’t trusting that. He was highly suspicious and I think those suspicions were directed at some members of the crew. I remember one night when several of us were talking together—Callum and Gregory were there I believe—he said that knowing he was to sail with such a precious cargo many practiced jewel thieves might have joined the crew for the sole purpose of robbing him. He was very conscious of his valuable stock. That night he told us gruesome stories of how his house as well as his business premises had been burgled; he said he was taking no risks with his diamonds. He never kept them in one place for more than a few days at a time. I thought he had them attached to his waist on a leather belt which he wore next to his skin. One night he was the worse for drink and had to be helped to his cabin and to bed. He was horrified the next day that someone might have seen the bag of diamonds. We used to joke about it. We all said we would be glad when we reached Sydney so that we could be rid of our highly dangerous cargo. And then he died and we buried him at sea. And the diamonds had disappeared. His cabin was turned inside out to search for them. They were nowhere to be found. If some of us hadn’t seen them we should not have believed that they existed. When we reached land the matter was reported. The whole ship was searched, but the diamonds were never found. It was the belief of everyone that they were somewhere on the ship.”

  “And you never discovered?”

  “They were never found,” he repeated. “But you can imagine what rumors there were. John Fillimore had died although he was only in his late thirties and had shown no signs of illness before. That was mysterious in itself but nothing, of course, compared with the missing jewels. And there is one man who is supposed to be aware more than anyone of what goes on in his ship. You know who that is.”