She removed her cap and ran a hand through her short hair, roughly at first, then falling into her habit of fluffing the curls, in an unconscious attempt to encourage growth. She took a deep breath and looked up at Tom, who was watching her curiously. She felt a stab of pain. He was so handsome and so good! How could she have lied to him like this? And now she was going to have to confess the deception. What would he think? Would he hate her forever? She wanted him to love her. How had she screwed this up so badly?
He was waiting, and she had to say something. She put her hands in her lap and looked down at them. "This isn't easy, but I know you're busy, so I'll try." Her heart wouldn't stop racing and she took another deep breath. "I don't know if what I've done is illegal, but I never meant it to be. I never meant to cause any harm. Please believe that."
Tom sounded bewildered. "Have you done something wrong and Sloan found out about it? Has he threatened you?"
She shrugged at her hands. "He's only guessing. Thing is, he guessed the truth. I don't know about threats, but," she hesitated, "he might feel violence is called for. He might even think it's his religious duty."
When Tom spoke next, he sounded uncomfortable. "Casey, let's talk plain." He was silent, so she nodded, still afraid to look at him. "Has Sloan accused you of any...perversion? Does he have some proof of it?"
She shook her head, sure that Mr. Andrews was referring to homosexuality, which is what Sloan had suspected, at first. This was not a safe topic of conversation, so she kept her answer vague. "He seemed to suspect something, although he never had any proof of anything. Now he says he suspects I'm really... a girl. He wanted proof I’m not a girl, which is what you interrupted."
She raised her head then, forcing herself to face him. "I don't know what he'll do if he finds out he's right."
He blinked. "What?"
Her voice was a whisper. "I've been pretending to be a boy, Mr. Andrews. But I'm really a girl."
She saw his expression change from strained, to disbelief, to horror, as he stared at her. For a moment, she thought she would faint, she was so afraid of the way he looked. What would he do to her? Her body tensed, ready to run as she clenched her hands tightly against her stomach.
He didn't speak for almost a minute. Gods, what was he thinking?
He seemed to recover a bit as he studied her, his eyes moving down her body. His face reddened, but he leaned over his desk, holding out a hand. "A girl? Why, Casey? Why would you do this? Why would you tell such a lie, for such a long time?"
She closed her eyes against the pain in his voice. He truly felt betrayed. "It wasn't safe on the streets for a girl, and I was trying to find odd jobs to make money." Her voice sounded high and whiny. She realized she was pleading with him. "I had more opportunities for that as a boy. My guardian was trying to find work too, but then he got sick. He needed medicine and a doctor. I took your offer so I could help him. That was all, really."
"But," he couldn't seem to comprehend it. "Case, there are places you could have gone for help. The poorhouse, charities…" he stopped as she shook her head.
"We tried those. But they aren't good places, Mr. Andrews. I think that's where Sam got sick, 'cause they crowd so many people in, and lots of people are really ill." A hint of defiance crossed her face. "We weren't used to being poor. We wanted out of it and those places seemed designed to keep us in it."
He rubbed his forehead, nodding. "Aye, I've heard that said of them, but I never really knew." His hand moved through his hair in frustration. "Is your guardian still sick, Casey?"
She shook her head again. "He's fine, now. The doctor put him in touch with someone at the telephone company, and Sam got a job there. He's a physicist, and they have him doing research and development."
"I wish you'd told me the truth sooner," Tom told her. "I understand your reasons… I just don't know what to do, now." He absent-mindedly rolled a pencil around, thinking hard. "You're right, though. I was hoping we could keep you on. I was going to speak to you about that in a few days. But now, you won't be able to continue working. I certainly can't let you finish out your time as a boy, and there's no possible way you can come in here as a girl. And we have to do something about Sloan."
She thought about it, relieved that he seemed willing to work something out. At least, he wasn't yelling at her. "He doesn't know where I live. If I'm not around here and not a threat to him, maybe he'll just forget about me."
Tom nodded, but he looked doubtful. "You'll have to keep an eye out. I will talk to him, though. I'll make it very clear to him that nothing is to happen to you, or I'll see that the blame goes to him. I'd like to talk to your guardian, too, and make sure he's aware of the problem."
Casey nodded and then looked up at him through tears. "I'm sorry for this, Mr. Andrews. I know it's inadequate, but I really am sorry. I've put you in a terrible position and I had no right to do that."
A small smile crossed his face and he looked grateful. "I forgive you," he told her in all seriousness. "But I hope you stop this nonsense, Casey. I know you meant no harm, but you must be who you are. This constant deception has to be bad for your health, and your soul."
Despondent, she looked at her hands, nodding. "I miss being a girl."
It was a few moments before he spoke, and when he did, his voice sounded thick, as if something blocked his throat. "You've done everything we needed you to do. You have a right to survive, and you have a right to try and better your life. I want to help you. There are jobs you can do as a girl, if it's work you want. With your education, you should be able to find something that you would enjoy. I can certainly recommend you–your work here has been excellent, once I get past the necessary explanations. Let me ask around. I'm sure I know someone who could use you, or maybe you could go back to school. You mentioned that you were doing that before."
She nodded. "It would be nice to finish. To study plants again."
He tilted his head and asked suddenly, "Have you considered marriage?"
This startled her. "Marriage? No, I hadn't considered marriage." She added sardonically, "There's been a real dearth of opportunities."
His smile was rueful. "I imagine there'd be more if you wore a dress."
She laughed a little at that. "I'm not opposed to the idea in general, Mr. Andrews. But I'm only twenty-one. I don't think I'm ready for marriage, yet."
He nodded again. "I understand. But it's something to keep in mind. With your guardian's occupation, and your education, I think you could make a good match. You could marry just about anyone you want."
You? She thought. No, of course, you're not even thinking of yourself. She decided to change the subject.
"I'll keep it in mind. Sam has not said anything about marriage, so I don't have any idea what his thoughts are. I think he's just been trying to take care of me and he knows I'm happier if I'm doing something, so he's always encouraged me to find work."
"Well, I truly hope he puts a stop to this boy nonsense, Casey. I know things were desperate, but he should never have allowed you to do this." Tom sounded indignant.
But Casey shook her head. "Sam has never been able to stop me from doing anything. He wasn't happy about it, truly." She sighed. "I'm concerned that this will reflect badly on you, since you hired me."
Tom harrumphed and tilted his head as he looked at her. "Perhaps, but everyone else was fooled, as well. I've had a few comments here and there about you, but no one ever suggested they thought you were a girl. Until Sloan, anyway, and he's always looking for trouble." A quick smile touched his lips. "You did a good job, pretending to be a boy."
He tapped the table and Casey jumped a bit. "Go on home, Casey. I'll have Ham handle the paperwork, and we'll send you any pay you're owed. I'll have to figure out what to tell Lord Pirrie and talk to Sloan. Looks like I'm in for an interesting day."
She stood. "I really am sorry, Mr. Andrews."
He waved her away. "You did your job and you did it well. Take some pride in that. Just pl
ease, don't make a habit of this kind of thing. You could make yourself a miserable life, I fear."
She nodded and turned to go, but abruptly turned back. "Can I say one more thing, Mr. Andrews? This has nothing to do with any of this, and it's not going to make any sense to you, but I have to give you some warning or I won't be able to live with myself."
His eyes narrowed as he gazed at her. "Go ahead."
She licked her lips and plunged on. "I've heard you say that when you build a ship, you think about how it can sink, and that helps you build it so it floats." His eyes widened. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't this. She continued, somewhat frantically, "Well, just think about a large ship, bigger even than the Adriatic, going too fast, about to hit an iceberg. They try to turn the ship and it misses mostly, but the iceberg scrapes along the side, punching holes for several hundred feet, all under the waterline." She took a step toward him, pointing at his desk, at the drawings. "You'll be a Managing Director someday. Build that ship so it doesn't sink, Mr. Andrews. Especially, if it's a ship called Titanic. That's all I know to tell you." And she turned and left.
Chapter 12
November 1906
Tom sat at his desk for several minutes after Casey had gone, staring at the door and trying to comprehend what she had said. His emotions were in such a whirl, he couldn't concentrate. What did all that mean? The image of a ship scraping along an iceberg sent chills down his spine. He wanted to laugh it off as nonsense, but the scenario Casey described was plausible.
“Going too fast.” What did she mean by that? "A ship called Titanic"? There was no ship by that name even being considered. Was Casey, perhaps, a bit crazy? A harmless crazy, to be sure, but one that made her pretend to be a boy and then leave random warnings of disaster in her wake? But would craziness like that allow to her work hard and accurately every day?
Tom slowly shook his head, unsure of what to do. How could this happen? How could he not see that she was a girl? All the comments from men in the yard: "He sure is a pretty boy," or "No growth spurt, yet, eh?" Tom had for the most part ignored these, thinking only that the trueness of them must have meant that life was even more difficult for the lad.
Gullible, Tommy. Gullible, that's what you are. Always willing to take people at their best. Someone'll always take advantage of that. Ach, but it's no good being any other way.
Eventually he came back to his original problem: what to tell his uncle. He almost laughed at that, hearing his own voice exhorting Casey to avoid any further lying. Best take his own advice and just confess his gullibility to Lord Pirrie and have it done. He did take some comfort in the knowledge that he wasn't the only one taken in by the deception.
He heard Ham come in and sighed. Might as well get it over with, then he could head over to his uncle's office. He wasn't going to be able to concentrate on these reports anyway.
Predictably, Ham was astonished when Tom broke the news. His ears reddened as he no doubt considered the odd remark that would never have been made had he known he was talking to a girl. Tom could think of a few unwise comments he'd said himself. Not to mention exposing her to all the rough and tumble of the men in the shipyard. Good men, all of them, but still men, who were assuming there were no women around. They acted a bit coarser under those circumstances.
After a few minutes, Ham recovered. "We were going to keep him on. How're we going to replace him... I mean her? She was all trained and doing a proper job. Good ideas, too." Ham sounded miserable; after all, he was going to have to go back to all that running around and extra work.
Tom tapped his pencil on the desk as he thought about it. "Tell you what. Let's put out the word to everyone we talk to today. Start with the men in the drafting room. We need a youngish lad who can read, write and figure to replace Casey. Someone who can start right away. We'll see what we get."
Lord Pirrie's reaction was also predictable. He stared at Tom in disbelief, then let loose a roar of laughter that all but alerted the shipyard that something was up. Tom reflected that there was no way he was getting away easy on this one.
He didn't, either. There were few places where gossip could travel faster than a shipyard. First, they were looking for a replacement for Casey, which was enough to raise lots of questions. Everyone liked Casey, why'd they let him go? Lord Pirrie was more than happy to tell a few people, and like magic, they all knew. Tom found that on his forays through the yard, he'd suddenly be following a man swinging his hips and twirling an imaginary umbrella. Or upon getting the attention of a man he needed to talk to, the alerted fellow would pouf imaginary hair or bat his eyelashes. These antics were followed by peals of laughter from anyone around.
There was nothing for it but to take it in good humor and let it run its course. He did manage to put an early stop to it in his own department, by noting as how the men perhaps needed to do some rudimentary drawing exercises for their eyes, since they had worked closely with Casey, too, and had not noticed anything untoward. So the snickers died down quickly there, especially since the work that Casey used to do fell to them until a replacement could be secured.
His talk with Sloan was brief. This was not the first time Tom had had to deal with Sloan’s troublemaking, and the man's self-righteous air at the news that Casey had left nearly sent Tom over the edge. He actually shoved the Sloan into a chair and yelled at him, while struggling to keep his clenched fists at his side, rather than using them to wipe the smugness from Sloan’s face.
“I don’t care what her crime was,” he said. “If you thought she was a girl, your treatment of her was outrageous. You understand, sir, that if any harm comes to that young lady, any at all, I will personally see that you are brought before the magistrate to answer for it. Are you clear on that?”
Sloan had acquiesced, humbly protesting that he never truly thought she was a girl, he was just trying to shame the boy into confessing his sins. But the a triumphant gleam never left his eye, and Tom was determined to keep an eye on him.
He approached his supervisor, Alexander Carlisle, about the iceberg problem, who thought it was an interesting, although unlikely, possibility. Tom then put the problem to his design team as an exercise. The easy solution, a double hull, was a sensitive one because of cost. If they couldn’t do that, what other solutions were there?
Any mention of Titanic, he kept to himself.
~~~
“It was the housekeeper, in the parlor.” Sam said, as soon as he came in the kitchen, an open letter in his hand.
Casey looked up from dinner preparations, her face showing the results of an afternoon of sobbing into her pillow. She had called Sam at work as soon she’d gotten home, and told him what had happened. He had been suitably sympathetic, and furious at Sloan, but she knew he was also relieved that the truth was out. On some level, she was glad of that herself, but still sick with worry over Tom Andrews.
“What are you talking about?” She didn’t feel up to his usual puzzles and chipper conversation.
He waved the letter. “How Sloan found out about you. It was the housekeeper.”
She tried to focus on that. Ann Malone? The young woman who came two times a week to sweep and dust and do their laundry? Casey had only met her a couple of times, first when she interviewed for the job and again a week ago, when she had been working late and Casey had come home…
…dressed as a boy.
She leaned against the counter, folded her arms over her apron, and gazed thoughtfully at Sam. “Pray tell, what is the connection between our housekeeper and Mike Sloan?”
Sam blinked at the letter in his hand. “Evidently, she’s his cousin.”
Casey sighed. “God save me from the Irish and their infernal relations.”
Sam laughed. “It can be a tricky road to traverse,” he agreed. “Buried mines, everywhere.”
“I take it that letter is from her?”
“Aye.” Sam offered it to her but she just raised an eyebrow and waited. He shrugged. “She is informing us t
hat her cousin has forbidden her to continue in our employment. She regrets this and sincerely hopes she has not caused us trouble. She had only thought that Mr. Sloan would find the story amusing.”
“Fucking idiot.”
“Why? For thinking Sloan would be amused, or expecting us to believe she thought that?”
“Either one.” Casey returned to cooking. “So, mystery solved. It’s nice to know he didn’t figure it out on his own.” She stirred the stew to avoid Sam’s gaze, one thought shouting itself in her mind: He knew. That whole time, with those men there, threatening to strip me, he knew I was a girl.
Sam dropped a kiss on her head. “Can you call the agency tomorrow and ask them to send ‘round another housekeeper? And no, you can’t do the work. I have a possible job for you.”
That got her attention and he smiled wickedly. “I have some connections now, you know.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What job?”
“Know anything about the Palm House?”
She gasped. “Don’t be ridiculous. The greenhouse in the Botanic Gardens. I worked there for over a year in the future.”
“I know.” He sat on a stool, quite proud of himself. “A colleague has a relative who’s heading the program to build up the tropical section. They’re using Queen’s students, of course, but they need some help from outside the university. He’s agreed to talk to you.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow, if you can get there in the afternoon. Rupus Mangold is his name. Go and see what you think.”
She squealed and hugged him. “Thank you!”
He chuckled, glad to see her smile.
~~~
A few days later, Sam received a phone call from Tom Andrews. Tom sounded genuinely concerned about Casey and wanted to meet with Sam in person, to discuss the situation. Sam agreed to meet him after work at a pub.
He called Casey to tell her.
“He said he would talk to you about Sloan,” Casey reminded him.
Shipbuilder Page 10