All at Sea

by Liz Hedgecock

  ‘I beg your pardon, my dear?’ asked Mrs Jennings.

  Maisie came to in a hurry. ‘Oh sorry, Mrs Jennings. Just … thinking.’

  Mrs Jennings regarded her narrowly. ‘Are you quite sure you’re well, Miss Frobisher? You seem a little absent.’

  ‘I’m sure a biscuit will put me to rights,’ said Maisie, and took a big bite so that she would not have to answer any more questions. Her gaze roved around the room, seeking the inspector, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  Maisie drew out the ritual of morning coffee for as long as she could, since she had no idea of what she wanted to do afterwards. However, when the stewards began to clear the coffee cups and plates she had no choice but to leave the room. Perhaps I shall go back to my cabin and read, she mused, as she stepped into the corridor, and almost walked into someone.

  ‘Oh!’ she said, putting out a hand, and looked up past the white shirt-front.

  It was Inspector Hamilton. It would be. But he seemed rather ruffled, as if something had not gone right.

  ‘Miss Frobisher, I hoped to catch you at breakfast, and before coffee, and both times I have been unsuccessful,’ he said. ‘Please will you read this?’ He put an envelope into her hand.

  Maisie looked at it, then at him. ‘I had planned to read,’ she said, ‘but I had a novel in mind.’

  ‘I’m terribly sorry for what happened last night, Miss Frobisher.’ To be fair, thought Maisie, he does appear contrite. ‘I have explained myself in a letter, and I hope you will read it.’ He half-bowed and walked off, his retreating figure in its lounge suit not so very different from the night before, when he had walked away after the dance.

  Maisie retreated to her cabin and put the envelope on her little folding desk. Miss Frobisher, it said, in neat but spiky writing. What shall I find within? Maisie braced herself, took out a letter opener, and presently unfolded a single sheet of paper, written on both sides.

  Dear Miss Frobisher,

  I must apologise for my conduct yesterday evening. I did not intend to raise my voice to you, which was most ungentlemanly behaviour. I am also sorry for the accusation I made regarding your motives for offering assistance. As I believe I said yesterday, the case is not progressing as well as I would like, and I spoke out of frustration.

  However, this is an explanation of my conduct rather than an excuse for it. Please accept my sincere apologies, and I shall endeavour to behave better in future.

  To that end, I would welcome a discussion as to the form your assistance might take. I believe there are plans for a more elaborate dance in progress, and I have ideas regarding this on which I would appreciate your opinion. If this would be agreeable to you, please meet me on the promenade deck before lunch.

  Yours sincerely,

  F. Hamilton, Esq.

  Maisie’s first impulse was to hurry to the glass and look at herself. Am I ready for a meeting with the inspector? But even as she judged that she was, something stopped her from catching up her bag and gloves and going at once. ‘I shall read a chapter of my book first,’ she said to herself, with a little secret smile on her face. And though Maisie sat back down and diligently turned the pages, at the end of the fifteen minutes she could not have said what had happened, or which characters had been involved. Her head was too full of speculation as to what Inspector Hamilton might have in mind.

  Chapter 12

  The promenade deck was busy when Maisie finally made her way there. A game of quoits was taking place, and she could see Mr Randall and Mr Merritt among the players. Mrs and Miss Jennings were watching, along with Colonel and Mrs Fortescue and the Smythes. Where would the inspector be? Maisie looked for a lone figure, perhaps near the bow of the ship where he had been before, but he was not there. Has he given up already? Disappointment mingled with anger.

  Miss Jeroboam was at the bow with her camera. ‘Miss Frobisher!’ she cried, lowering her apparatus. ‘We were beginning to give you up for lost!’

  ‘Oh, I just slept in,’ said Maisie. ‘I am right as rain now. I am going to take a turn or two round the deck.’

  ‘Let me join you,’ said Miss Jeroboam. ‘I have been standing stock still focusing on sea and sky until I am stiff.’ She made sure her camera was securely around her neck, and put her arm through Maisie’s.

  ‘Oh no, you do not have to — I mean if you are busy —’

  ‘Of course not!’ exclaimed Miss Jeroboam. ‘I am sure the sea and the sky will still be here when I return.’ And they set off at a gentle pace.

  The inspector was at the rear of the promenade deck, sitting in a deckchair with a book. ‘Good morning, ladies,’ he said, with a quizzical expression on his face.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Hamilton,’ said Maisie. ‘Miss Jeroboam has joined me for a turn around the deck.’

  ‘It is a fine day for it,’ he said, re-opening his book. ‘Enjoy your stroll.’

  Maisie did no such thing. As they sauntered, nodding to their acquaintances as they went, and remarking on the pleasantness of the weather, she racked her brains for a way to signal to the inspector. As they came back towards the stern a thought occurred to her, and she halted, opening her bag. Pulling out a handkerchief, she dabbed at her nose with it.

  ‘Have you caught a chill?’ enquired Miss Jeroboam.

  ‘Perhaps a slight one,’ said Maisie, as nasally as she could manage. She dabbed again, and they walked on.

  Would the inspector look up on their second approach? As they neared the group of deckchairs where he was Maisie coughed into her handkerchief and stuffed it carelessly into her bag. On they went, and Maisie fiddled with the strap of her bag, her arm still through Miss Jeroboam’s. They passed the inspector, who appeared absorbed in his novel. Maisie tried not to fume as they got further and further away.

  ‘Miss Frobisher!’

  Maisie stopped.

  ‘You have dropped your handkerchief — see.’ The inspector laid his book down, stood, and strolled over to it, retrieving it with a swipe of his long arm. ‘Here you are,’ he said, putting it into Maisie’s gloved hand. ‘Although if that was you I heard coughing then perhaps you should be indoors resting, rather than wearing yourself out promenading with our lady explorer.’

  Maisie sniffed gently and touched the handkerchief to her nose. ‘Perhaps you are right,’ she said. ‘I thought fresh air might help me, but I do feel congested.’

  The inspector’s nose wrinkled. ‘You should definitely retire, Miss Frobisher. Otherwise you won’t be fit for the dance.’

  ‘What dance?’ asked Maisie.

  The inspector rolled his eyes. ‘I knew I should not have mentioned it, Miss Frobisher, for now you will be too excited to rest properly. It was announced at breakfast and it is in two days’ time, so if you do not rest you will not be fit for it.’ He gave her a severe look, and retreated to his deckchair.

  ‘I shall leave you here, Miss Jeroboam,’ said Maisie as they neared the door to the first-class cabins. ‘I do hope the sea has not disappeared.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ laughed Miss Jeroboam. ‘I hope to see you at lunch looking much brighter, Miss Frobisher.’

  Maisie smiled in reply and returned to her cabin. She locked the door, closed the little curtain across the porthole, and only then opened her hand.

  Inside the handkerchief was a small piece of paper, its edge torn. It might have been ripped from the inspector’s book. On it, in pencil: Dining room, 10 minutes. Make sure no one sees you.

  A grin spread over Maisie’s face, and she hurried to the mirror to check that her brief stroll had not disturbed her hair.

  ***

  ‘A harlequinade?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Inspector Hamilton.

  They were sat confidentially in a corner of the dining room, while around them waiters moved chairs and tables into place, laid tablecloths, and placed napkins.

  ‘Won’t that be rather … difficult?’

  ‘Not at all,’ said the inspector. ‘There are five costumes; Harlequin, Columb
ine, Pierrot, Pantaloon, and Clown. Columbine is easy; a patched dress, white for preference, and no mask is required. You will not be aware that when the dance was announced this morning, the captain informed the passengers that a limited number of ready-made costumes were available. I am in no doubt that most of those have already been secured.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Maisie. ‘So I suppose I shall be one of the Columbines.’ She felt aggrieved that she had missed the chance to dress up properly.

  ‘For the first half of the evening, yes,’ said the inspector. ‘Your “indisposition” today has proved remarkably helpful. You will be a Columbine until the evening buffet, where you will announce that you are tired and will retire for the night. Then you will go to your cabin and put on the costume I have reserved for you.’

  ‘Which is…?’

  ‘Pierrot. It is easy to put on and wear, and your white face will serve as your mask. I expect there will be several female Pierrots. You will return to the party and overhear as much as you can. If you get the chance to dance with any of your fellow-passengers, please take it. People tend to be more confidential with complete strangers than they ever are with their friends.’

  Maisie blinked. ‘And what will you be doing, Inspector?’

  ‘Mr Hamilton, if you don’t mind. I shall be Pierrot for the first half of the evening, before the delicious sandwiches at the buffet transform me into a different character entirely. And no, I am not going to tell you who, in case you start looking for me and acting in a suspicious manner.’ He glanced at his watch, then at the tables. ‘We had better leave shortly. I assume you have a dress that your maid can patch without ruining it?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Maisie, feeling dazed.

  The inspector raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you prepared to do this? I do not wish to force you into something you are not comfortable with.’

  ‘Oh no, it isn’t that,’ said Maisie. ‘I have attended many costume balls. I had an odd feeling of déjà vu.’ She surveyed the room, though the waiters were paying them no attention, and leaned towards the inspector. ‘Do you remember reading about the case of the Masquerade Mob in the newspapers?’

  ‘I do,’ said Inspector Hamilton. ‘I’m not sure what that has to do with —’

  ‘And the charity balls that took place?’

  The inspector nodded, frowning.

  ‘I was there,’ whispered Maisie. ‘I saw the whole thing. And one of my friends did almost the same thing as you are asking me to do now.’

  ‘One of your friends?’ The inspector looked politely incredulous.

  ‘Yes,’ said Maisie. ‘Connie Lamont, Connie Swift as was. Although her professional name is Miss Fleet.’

  Inspector Hamilton’s eyes opened wide. ‘Miss Fleet? As in Caster and Fleet?’

  ‘Shhhh!’ said Maisie.

  ‘Sorry,’ the inspector whispered. ‘It’s just — if I had known that you were friends with Caster and Fleet, I would have accepted your offer of help at the first opportunity.’

  Maisie forced a laugh. ‘What it is to be valued for oneself,’ she said.

  ‘Oh no, I didn’t mean —’

  ‘And you are right,’ said Maisie, ‘we had better leave.’

  ‘Two more minutes won’t hurt,’ said the inspector. ‘You said you had noticed a few things about your fellow-passengers…’

  ‘Yes,’ said Maisie, her equilibrium restored. ‘I have observed that since this trouble began, Mrs and Miss Jennings have been inseparable. The only time I have seen Miss Jennings apart from her mother was when she danced last night.’

  ‘I see,’ said the inspector. ‘Can you think of a reason why?’

  ‘Not particularly,’ said Maisie, ‘unless Mrs Jennings is setting her sights more firmly on Mr Randall.’ She paused. ‘The other thing I noticed was that when Mr Smythe received the telegram at Port Said, and fainted, her mood lightened considerably.’

  ‘How interesting,’ remarked the inspector. ‘Perhaps I should task you with carrying Miss Jennings off for a dance.’ He smiled. ‘Anything else?’

  Maisie hesitated. ‘The one other thing I can think of is Mrs Fortescue saying how bad the Colonel’s memory was. I don’t know if that is relevant —’

  ‘Everything is relevant,’ said the inspector. ‘We don’t need to meet again till the evening of the dance. Once you have left the buffet, return to your cabin. I shall be waiting there for you, and shall deliver any further instruction then.’

  ‘Very well, Mr Hamilton,’ said Maisie. She peeped out of the nearest doorway to make sure the coast was clear, and slipped away to her cabin. She closed the door, then leaned on it, fanning herself with her handkerchief.

  ‘Me,’ she whispered, ‘a conspirator! A conspirator in disguise!’ Her heart thumped, her cheeks burned, and after her feigned illness earlier, now Maisie really did feel the need to rest before lunch. How will I appear normal? she thought, as she lay on the bed and tried not to fidget. Visions of harlequins spun in her head, and she closed her eyes to dispel them; but they danced all the faster.

  Chapter 13

  Maisie’s heart thumped as she whirled in the diamond-patterned arms of Jasper Randall. The hands of the large clock on the wall showed ten minutes to ten.

  ‘So tell me, Mr Randall,’ she asked, ‘why did you choose to be Harlequin?’

  His eyes crinkled into a smile beneath his mask. ‘I could give the reason as my trickster disposition, or my love for Columbine —’ He gave her a significant look. ‘However, the truth of the matter is that I liked the colours.’

  ‘That is not very gallant of you, Mr Randall,’ said Maisie.

  It had been a most satisfactory evening so far. Maisie had spent much of her time before the dance finding out what everyone’s costume was to be. They mostly ran along predictable lines. The colonel was Pantaloon, and Mrs Fortescue had chosen to be a Pierrot. ‘Nice and comfortable,’ she had said approvingly. ‘That’s the ticket.’

  Miss Jennings was to be another Columbine, as was her mother. ‘I don’t hold with masked balls,’ she had said sententiously at morning coffee. ‘All sorts of mischief can happen.’

  ‘I am sure that it will be well-regulated,’ said Maisie. ‘The captain will see to that.’

  ‘I hope so,’ said Mrs Jennings darkly.

  Mr Randall had chosen to be Harlequin, which Maisie could have predicted, and Mr Merritt a Pierrot. The companions of the captain’s table had sought each other out early in the evening, and while Maisie smiled at Mr Merritt’s baggy white outfit, conical hat, and flour-whitened face, in an odd way it became him, and she felt a little sad for him.

  Mr and Mrs Smythe had come as Harlequin and Columbine. ‘Not that we are young lovers, you understand,’ said Mrs Smythe, looking rather embarrassed. ‘But it is hard to find an appropriate outfit for a married couple.’

  ‘Well, I intend to enjoy myself,’ said the ambassador, tweaking the points of his hat, and Maisie had no doubt that he did.

  Miss Jeroboam was a Pierrot, which surprised Maisie, who had thought she might choose to be a Harlequin. ‘The least trouble, the better,’ she had said, laughing. ‘The alternative is that I come in one of my adventuring outfits, and turn myself into a complete Clown.’

  But everyone agreed that Inspector Hamilton had not played the game. Certainly he was wearing a Pierrot costume, but he wore no head-covering and he had not whitened his face. ‘Anyone can tell who he is,’ said Mrs Fortescue, disapprovingly. Then again, thought Maisie, his face is pale enough without additional help.

  For the first part of the evening Maisie had given herself up to enjoyment. After all, if she were to retire pleading tiredness, she ought to put some effort into it. She sat out a couple of times with Miss Jennings, who made a pretty but reluctant Columbine, and declined the entreaties of several men to dance.

  ‘Don’t you feel like dancing, Miss Jennings?’ asked Maisie.

  Miss Jennings shook her head until her ringlets bobbed. ‘I don’t like not knowing who pe
ople are,’ she said. ‘Anyone could be … anyone. Except for the people I know of course, Miss Frobisher.’ She smiled as Mr Merritt came up, easily recognisable with his slightly stiff gait and his fair hair escaping from under his hat, and accepted his offer to dance. Mrs Jennings humphed, and looked away.

  Bong! The clock struck ten and the captain’s voice rang out. ‘It is time for the buffet! Dancing will resume in half an hour.’ He had taken even less trouble than the inspector, appearing in his full-dress uniform. However, thought Maisie, it is probably as well that one face in the room is recognisable to everyone.

  She let Mr Randall lead her to the buffet table, and he filled a plate with sandwiches for her. ‘Thank you very much,’ she said, taking it, ‘but I don’t think I can manage more than half.’

  ‘Lost your appetite?’ asked the colonel. ‘Why, Miss Frobisher, you have out-danced us all; you should be ready for refreshment.’

  ‘I am winding down like a clock,’ laughed Maisie. ‘I shall be an early Cinderella, and flee when the clock strikes half past ten.’

  ‘Perhaps if you sit and eat slowly, you will feel fresher in a quarter of an hour,’ said Mrs Fortescue.

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Maisie; but she took care to pant a little and fan herself when anyone looked her way. At twenty past ten she took her leave, saying that she was more than ready for her bed.

  ***

  Maisie was about to unlock her door when it opened silently and she had to repress a cry. She whipped through the door, waited until it was closed, and then whispered angrily, ‘Did you have to do that?’

  ‘I have been waiting for twenty minutes,’ said the inspector. ‘There is no time to lose.’ He indicated a Pierrot costume on the bed. ‘Get into that as quickly as you can, please.’

  Maisie looked at him significantly, but he did not move. ‘Are you planning to watch?’ she asked.

  ‘Hardly,’ he said. ‘I shall turn my back, and you may watch me like an eagle if you wish.’ Maisie didn’t move. ‘I can’t wait outside your door, can I?’ He sighed. ‘I admit that I did not think this through fully.’