Ioan laughed. “Aw, you brought a horsey? Isn't that adorable?” he mocked. “Honestly, mate, no one uses those things anymore.”
Mr. Hamilton chuckled. “Good one, Mr. Saier. I'm sure by horsey you mean horse power. Of course no one's used it. It's an exclusive convertible model. I just call it the carriage. Shall we then, Miss Harlow?”
“After you, Mr. Hamilton.”
Mr. Hamilton escorted her to the door. Ioan stood in the way staring hard at him.
“Mr. Saier, the door, please,” Cora said airily.
“I've got a keen eye on you,” Ioan warned Mr. Hamilton.
“Ioan, move,” Cora said firmly.
“Certainly.” He dragged his feet aside.
“Thank you,” Cora sighed. She held her head high as Mr. Hamilton showed her out.
“And when can we expect you back?” Ioan called.
“I don't expect I shall ever come back,” Cora winked at him.
“Make sure it's a giggle then!” Ioan called back. “Enjoy every minute of it!”
Lavinia touched Ioan's arm. “Come now, Mr. Saier,” she said. “They'll be alright.”
* * *
“That man does have a keen eye, like a dog guarding his territory,” Halsey commented.
“More like a pouting puppy,” Cora remarked.
“Those eyes aren't for me, no sir. I think you should keep that dress. It's driving him out of his head,” Halsey told her.
“You don't think he's catching on to us?” Cora grinned.
“Not a chance. Look at his face. It's killing him. That man is drowning.”
“He swims just fine.”
“If you won't go save him, I will,” Halsey informed her. “Waste not, want not.”
“You mean to add him to your collection now?” Cora giggled.
“He's refreshing,” Halsey examined Ioan through his monocle. “I know all about the American adventurer, the fierce Italian lover, the mysterious native, the French dreamer, and my personal favorite, the passionate Latin. I've never had Welsh before. European men are particularly scrawny for my taste, but this one's a sailor. Still a bit on the scrawny side, but I surely see a seafarer in his build.”
“Halsey, will you stop drooling over Mr. Saier?” Cora laughed. “Keep your tongue behind your teeth or he will notice. So humiliating. Let's walk away before he turns around.”
Halsey's eyes scanned the dessert table. “Thus, you wish to lure me with cream puffs so I won't gobble up your sailor? Evil girl.”
“Halsey, no. You promised yourself.”
“You're right. Damn those cream puffs.”
“What do you suppose they're talking about?” Ioan asked, chugging a shot of brandy. “Why does she keep laughing?”
“Something exceptionally funny,” Lavinia answered.
“I don't find anything funny,” Ioan said. “No one laughs that goddamned much. It's ridiculous.”
Lavinia grinned. “Who can resist a man with a sense of humor?”
“I don't like him,” Ioan said flat out. “He's a dodgy character. I don't like him at all.”
“Of course, Mr. Saier,” Lavinia smiled.
“Another brandy, sir?” a waiter offered.
Ioan grabbed two glasses. He offered Lavinia one. She declined. He swallowed them both. “You're her tutoress, aren't you? Shouldn't you be teaching her something?”
“Now? Miss Harlow is occupied.”
“She has time. She's not doing anything productive,” Ioan answered, walking away.
“And Mr. Saier is compromised,” Cora said, watching him charge for the bar. “I hope he's learned his lesson.”
“You're bad,” Halsey grinned. He glanced at the cream puffs nearby. “Really bad.”
“It's our secret, Halsey,” Cora answered. “He'll never know.”
“Alright,” he decided. “But just one.” “What?” she asked. “Wait! Halsey!” He charged for the dessert table, and never found his way back.
“Miss Harlow, Mr. Saier gives his speech in five minutes. The journalist are requesting you,” Mr. Spruce said.
“I need to powder my nose first,” Cora said.
“In haste. He's expecting you,” Mr. Spruce told her.
Cora followed the staircase to the ladies' room. A soprano wailed down the hall as she looked in the mirror. “Grace,” she reminded herself. “And look happy. Happiness and grace.” She thought of everything that made her happy. “Lavenders, chocolates, fresh paper, candlelight.” The lights flickered. Cora glanced around her. There was no one else in the room. Perhaps it was just the wind. She turned back to the mirror to fix her curls. The lights flickered again. Her heart skipped. She looked down the hall. “Hello?” she called. No one was there.
She stepped into the room again. The door slammed shut. Cora pulled the handle. It wouldn't budge. She knocked on the door. “Hello? I'm still here!” she called. “You've locked me in!” The lights flickered three more times and blew out. Darkness swallowed the room.
It was no accident. Cora stood still against the door trying to adjust to the dark. All she heard was the soprano downstairs. Her gloved hand reached for a fire poker nearby. She slipped out of her heels and pushed them aside. She waited. The air rushed pass her ear and a knife landed a hair away from her. She tried so hard not to scream, but a small shriek escaped her frightened lips. The knives dived for her. She fell to the floor and crawled for cover, dragging the poker along with her.
A hand grabbed her ankle and yanked her toward the center. She felt a man's heavy breathing on her face.
“Please,” she cried. “I don't have any money but if you let me go, I can get you some.” He slammed his knife into the wooden floor and pressed his weight against her body. He ripped the glove from her hand. Cora feared the worst. “Please,” she pleaded. “Please, don't. I'm going to be married soon. You can have anything else. Please, I beg of you.”
The man didn't touch anymore of her clothing. He yanked the knife from the floor board and skated the blade across her palm. Cora closed her eyes tightly against her tears. Her heart pounded. No one heard her.
The man bathed the knife in her blood then stabbed it into the floor. A bleeding parchment hung by the handle. He leaped out the open window. Fear forbade her to get up. She could only cry.
Ioan took his place before the crowd. Halsey's jaws sped at the dessert table. Cora was not there.
“Thank you all for your generous contributions tonight,” he said. “As you know, I am a survivor, but there are many who weren't as lucky as I. I feel it is my duty to them and those I served to officially establish this charity fund for Titanic families. With this charity, I hope to quiet the troubled hearts of the widows and give back a future to their children. I will accomplish this by providing grants for food, shelter, and education based on a proven need for assistance-”
“God have mercy!” a woman screamed from the back. “She's bleeding!” Cora stumbled into the room. She was still shocked. Her glove hung in shreds from her wrist. Blood trailed on the wooden floor. She tried to speak, but her head spun too fast. All she heard was the blood in her ears. Ioan knocked over everything in his path to get to her. He caught her before her head hit the floor. He gawked at the blood staining her gown. “Cora, what's happened to you?” he cried. “Someone please find a doctor!”
Chapter 14
“I'm sorry, sir, but this is a gentleman's club,” the bartender told him. Gianni gave no apology. He glanced at the stiff portraits of the club members. He spotted Ioan's picture on the far right. “I am a gentleman,” he insisted.
The bartender chuckled. “Alright. Get a move on, you.”
“I can prove it. You see that man, Mr. Ioan Saier. He is a gentleman. Therefore, I'm a gentleman.”
“I'm sorry, sir, but this is a tie and hat affair,” the bartender said. “Considering you have neither, I can't serve you. There's a tavern down the street that serves your kind. You best be getting to it.” Gianni glared at him, but stoo
d. He glanced at the portrait of Ioan on the wall before taking his leave. He was getting closer.
He rested at the harbor as he lit a cigar he'd stolen. The Carpathia must have docked here. This is where Beatrice ended her journey. His would start here.
He buried his face against his hands. “Signorina, please, why am I here? I'm a free man now. I can do what I want. What do you want from me?” he whispered. “I did everything to save you. Please let me rest.”
The scene played over and over in his head. He waded against the heavy current in the dark. “Signorina, breathe,” he cried. “I got you. I won't let you die.” He scrambled for the shore dragging the young woman after him. He slipped against the bank and scrambled to pull her back from the river. He gently laid her against the rocks like a butterfly with broken wings. Her head fell toward heaven. “Signorina,” he cried. “Wake up. We're safe now. Signorina, open your eyes.”
He desperately surveyed his surroundings. Nothing but fields for miles. “Is anyone there?” he shouted. “She needs...the signorina, she's...” He couldn't bring himself to say it. He turned back to the young woman he risked his life to save. The eyes he admired so much never opened for him again. “You didn't deserve to suffer for them, signorina. This is not sacrifice. This is murder, ” he wailed. “This is a light gone out in the world.” His mind yielded no peace or reason. All he understood was anger.
* * *
Lavinia sighed as Ioan paced. Neither had changed from their evening best. The clock chimed at eleven.
“Miss Appleby, it's late. You should rest,” Ioan said. “I'll have Mr. Knightly see you home.”
“I can't leave without knowing she's alright,” Lavinia said. “Besides, someone's got to keep you from chewing on the wallpaper. Won't you sit down? Have a drink.” Lavinia reached for a glass.
“I should never have left her,” Ioan insisted.
“Or not,” Lavinia said, releasing the glass.
“No, she shouldn't have gone in the first place. None of this would have happened if that Hamilton bloke had kept an eye on her.”
“Don't be so hard on him,” Lavinia begged. “He feels terrible about the whole thing.”
Ioan thought of worse ways to make Halsey feel terrible, but minded a lady was present and kept them to himself. He sat, but not for long. “What's keeping the doctor?” he snapped. “Why hasn't he told us anything?”
“I'm sure everything is fine,” Lavinia told him.
“She's quite right,” the doctor appeared. “I apologize for my late report. Miss Harlow is stable.”
“I'd like to see for myself,” Ioan answered.
“With caution, Mr. Saier. Fortunately, she fainted from shock rather than blood loss, but I don't want to trigger a relapse.”
Ioan wasted no time. Cora sat by the window. She winced as she tightened the bandage around her palm.
“Let me,” Ioan offered, helping her secure it. His heart broke when he saw the blood soaking through.
“Who could do something like this?”
“I don't know,” she said, hardly above a whisper. “I didn't see his face.”
“Did he threaten you?” Ioan asked.
“No, he didn't speak. He didn't do much really. Except this.” She handed the bloodstained note to him. “It's a ticket stub, I think,” she said. “It's from Titanic.” “Let's have a look,” Ioan examined it closely. “It's a second class boarding stub. I can't read the name. The water's washed it off.”
“I don't think he cared for the name,” Cora answered. “There's writing on the back, but it's not English.”
“Welsh, by the looks of it,” Ioan squinted at the scribbles. “Very bad Welsh.”
“Can you read it?”
“I don't know if anyone can,” Ioan remarked. “He shouldn't have bothered to translate. It makes no sense.”
“Can you make out any words?”
“Time waiting is with dead. Alive short container with time. Give guiltless contributions sin yours. God having lenience for ask you.” Ioan stopped, shaking his head. “This is rubbish.”
“It has to mean something,” Cora persisted.
He read it over and paused on the last sentence. It was the only one written grammatically correct. “We deserved a chance.”
“We deserved a chance?” Cora repeated. “What does he mean?”
“I don't know,” Ioan answered, but his eyes told a different story.
“Ioan, what's going on?”
“I've got to get you out of here,” he said. “Tonight.”
“What are you talking about? Where am I suppose to go?” Cora demanded. “You know something about this. You promised me no more secrets.”
“Now is not the time, Cora,” he said. “For once in our lives will you trust me and do what's best for you?”
“What is best for me?” Cora asked. “A man locked me in a dark room and threw a knife at me. You expect me to trust someone now? I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what this is about.”
“I won't let them have you,” Ioan declared.
“And by them, you mean?”
“The lost,” Ioan answered. “They're in my dreams. They're walking around. They're there with their families protesting in the streets. They want something from me but I've no idea what. They took you in a dream. This won't be the day it comes true. You must go tonight.”
“Ioan, you're absolutely demented,” Cora cried. “There aren't ghosts walking around. This is your own guilt tearing you apart. You've got to let this go. It's destroying you.”
“You don't understand,” Ioan said. “I should have gone down with the ship. I ran like a pansy. I'm trying to make it right, but its not enough. My life comes with a price. It will not be you.”
“Can you hear yourself?” Cora asked. “You're scaring me. You've gone over for good this time.”
“That's not something you should fear,” he said. “But they will know it. They will know it before you do.”
Chapter 15
“What do you think of lilac?” Cora asked from the writing desk.
“I'm not a fairy,” Ioan protested. “It's black or nothing else.”
“What about navy? A navy tux isn't so bad?”
“What about black?”
“What about white?”
“Alright then,” Ioan tossed her a coin. “Heads says I win. And no cheating.” Cora flipped the coin and caught it in her palm. “Tails!” she declared.
“Exactly what I said,” he persisted. “Black it is.”
“Where is my father?” Cora asked. “He's been awfully quiet all evening.”
“Probably out for a drink. No man can withstand this torture for long. Why does the color matter anyway? It's the I do's that are important. Who cares if you're naked?”
“Ioan, shut up,” Cora whispered, throwing a pin cushion at him. Mr. Spruce entered the room. He ignored Cora and nodded to Ioan. “Would you give me a moment?” Ioan asked Cora.
“Running off already?”
“I'm a horrid wedding planner,” Ioan replied, kissing her lightly. “I'll only muck it up.”
“Alright then. Cora will marry Cora and Ioan Saier will demote to the guest list, table five, the far corner on the left next to the uninvited guests.”
“Who can't love you, Cora? No one can help it,” Ioan sighed. “Two hours tops then I'm all yours.”
“Turn the car off, Mr. Knightly.” Spruce scanned the dock. A man danced around a bench with sherry. He collapsed and toasted the sky. He shouted to no one.
“That bloke's having a rare night,” Ioan remarked. “He's rat faced.”
Mr. Spruce cleared his throat. “Look closely, Mr. Saier. He's the one you want. My informant works a bar downtown. He saw an Italian man, dark hair, dark eyes, about this high, wandering around gentleman's clubs asking peculiar questions.”
“Are you sure this is the man who threatened Cora?” Ioan asked.
“No one throws a knife like him. He carries Jay Ander
son blades. The same knives reported stolen by a downtown shop. You'll want to grab him before the authorities do.”
“I don't know,” Ioan doubted. “If he's a wanted man, why is he so careless?”
“Why don't we just ask him?” Mr. Spruce pulled a bat from the seat.
“What's that all about?” Ioan demanded.
“Protection.”
Ioan still hadn't shown. Cora watched the window. The courtyard was dark and still. “It's nearly eleven. No word from Mr. Saier yet?” Cora asked Mrs Dillsworth.
“Not since he left, miss,” Mrs. Dillsworth replied. “I imagine they stopped for dinner.”
“Nothing from my father either?” Cora asked.
The bell rang. “Well, there they are at the bell,” Mrs. Dillsworth said. “Give them hell for the both of us. I wasted a perfect turkey dinner.” She hurried off to answer it. She returned moments later with a puzzled expression. “Miss, there's a man here to see you?”
“At this hour?” Cora questioned.
“Mr. Darcy Luckett. Mr. Saier will fire me if I let him in,” Mrs. Dillsworth said. “He said specifically no visitors while he's away.”
“Please send him in. You can tell Ioan I told you so. He may grumble at me all he likes.”
Mr. Luckett humbly stepped into the room. “Miss Harlow,” he said. “I apologize for coming on such short notice. I know it's been eleven years since we spoke, but I heard about what happened at the aria concert. I had to insure you were alright.”
Cora smiled. “I'm more happy than not to see you,” she exclaimed, embracing him. “Please find a chair anywhere. A drink maybe. Or perhaps a turkey dinner.”
“I'm quite alright,” Mr. Luckett replied, sitting stiffly and clenching his hat in his lap. Cora watched him curiously. “Are you alright, Mr. Luckett?”
“Never better, Miss Harlow,” he answered. “It's uh-it's quite cold tonight.”
“Yes, it is,” Cora answered.
“Is Mr. Saier here?”
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