“I’m afraid that’s all there is to say about my life.” She shrugged.
“Your life is far from over. You said you admire America because it has no class system.”
“They haven’t completely eliminated that aspect of life as yet. At least they have no king or queen, no titles handed down through generations, which give their owners privileges unavailable to others.”
“I agree that’s a very good thing, but there’s more to you than your political opinions.”
“Not much. As you know, mine is a lower middle-class family. I’ve had to work to support myself.”
“No doubt you’ve contributed to your family, as well.”
“That’s the only thing I regret about living in America permanently. If I don’t find a position that pays a salary similar to what Lady Wheatly provided, I shan’t be able to do that anymore.”
“But do they still need your help?”
“They say they don’t, but ...”
“But you feel obliged to do so anyway.”
She grinned. “I suppose I do.”
After a pause, Richard replenished their coffee cups and offered her a liqueur, which she declined.
“I’m not accustomed to spirits. The wine at dinner was more than I usually consume in a month.”
“Are you afraid you’ll become intoxicated?”
“It’s possible, and I should hate to do something that would cause me embarrassment tomorrow.” She finished the minuscule amount of coffee and placed her empty cup on the small table at her side.
He leaned in very close, so close that she could see flecks of green in the blue of his eyes. “I doubt you could do anything that might result in such an outcome.”
“But we don’t really know, do we? So I think it’s best if I stop before I reach that stage.” For a moment, she feared she had already attained it, because she felt extremely warm, even though Richard had not turned on the room’s electric fireplace. Could it be the wine she’d already drunk at dinner, or was it Richard’s presence, the smell of his after-shaving lotion or his distinctive cologne? A longing to be kissed swept over her. What would it feel like to be in his arms, to have his smooth firm lips on hers?
Setting his glass down, Richard pulled her from her seat and stood so close, she thought he must feel her heart beating through her dress. Time seemed to stand still, and she suddenly hoped it would never resume.
Gently, he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and, using his other hand, traced the outline of her lips with a fingertip.
She felt a pulse beat in her throat, and her breathing become deep and intense. Just as quickly, her common sense and her upbringing flowed into her consciousness.
She edged away from him. “I fear my coming into your sitting room has given you the wrong idea.”
“The idea you and I would be alone and ...?”
She dared not put into words the thoughts that vaulted into her mind. “Yes. I didn’t ...”
“Of course not. Such an outcome never entered my mind.” He moved away from her then, turned toward the doorway for a moment, then looked back at her. “You’re a beautiful woman, a “desirable” one—if I may use an American expression—but I would never take advantage of this arrangement. I’m sure the White Star line expects you to use this sitting room the same as I do.”
“Of course.” Her voice quavered with nervousness. “However, the shipping line is of no concern to me. I’m more interested in behaving correctly in polite society.” Still, she found herself unwilling to leave him, to walk through the connecting door and lock it behind her. That is, if she felt it necessary to protect her virtue to that extent. She trusted him to behave like a gentleman, as he always had.
He came back to her and looked intently into her eyes. “One day I hope to be able to kiss you properly, but, for now, I will only say how much I respect and admire you.” He put a finger on her chin and raised her face to his, following the gesture with a sweet, soft kiss on her forehead.
For a long moment, they stood in that position and then Beth said, “Good night, sir.”
“Good night, Richard,” he repeated, emphasizing his name.
“Good night, Richard.”
“Good night, Beth. I’m so pleased to know I’ll see you tomorrow morning and the morning after that, and the morning after that.” He stopped, as if realizing the voyage would not last much beyond. “In a few days we shall be in New York. I confess I wish the trip were longer.”
She didn’t answer, only smiled and entered her own cabin, gently closing the connecting door. His words and touch had dispelled her fears that Richard might find Cecily more appealing and her doubts about her own worthiness.
What would happen once they arrived in New York? That was the magic of travel. Time was suspended while you left one place and journeyed to another. The time on board the ship was like extra time—not the past and not yet the future. Only “now.” She wished “now” could go on forever.
Chapter 10
Beth lay still for a while before rising. She had to think which day it was. Every day was the same as every other on board the ship. She had nothing to do, no way to mark the end of one day and the start of another.
Then she realized it was her third day on the ship. It must be Friday, and she did have something to do: care for Kathleen. The child was asleep behind the closed draperies on the four-poster bed. She pulled the cord and, when the curtains swept aside, gazed down at the girl.
Kathleen was not asleep. As if not wishing to disturb Beth in case it was too early to rise, she was sitting up, propped by pillows. She had apparently passed the time smoothing Toby’s hair and clothing and making little folds in the tapestry spread that lay at the foot of the bed.
“Miss Beth, is it time to get up now? May we have breakfast? Toby is awfully hungry.” She climbed down and started for the door leading to the lavatory.
“Better knock first,” Beth suggested, “in case your father is still dressing.”
Kathleen knocked dutifully and, getting no answer, opened it and went inside. Beth followed and saw to Kathleen’s washing up, brushing her teeth and getting dressed, as well as having her hair combed and tied back with a ribbon.
“Now you may go into the other room and wake your father, if he’s still sleeping, while I get dressed. I shall join you very soon, and we’ll go to breakfast together.”
“Yes, Miss Beth.” Kathleen hurried out of the room.
Beth pinned up her own hair and donned a suitable frock for the day. She was grateful that women’s fashions had changed in recent years, so that she needn’t carry a separate trunk just for lingerie when she traveled. Dresses were no longer huge bell-like creations requiring six petticoats, but slender silhouettes—over one slim petticoat—that more closely resembled the outline of the woman wearing them.
She glanced out one of the windows to see another bright day, with sunlight dancing on top of the gentle waves surrounding the ship.
She opened the door to the sitting room and Richard, fully dressed, greeted her.
“Kathleen told me you were awake.” He smiled. “Are you ready for breakfast?”
Beth felt a surge of happiness that the three of them would be together again. But, recalling the conversation the night before, she thought her cheeks must be flushed and her beating heart might be seen through the cloth of her dress and those fashionably fewer undergarments.
“Let’s try the Verandah Café, shall we?” he said. “It seems like a cheery place to breakfast.”
Kathleen and Toby tripping ahead, they left the stateroom and went to A Deck. The café boasted an especially wide view of the ocean through large windows, and they ate slowly, enjoying it. Eventually the other diners disappeared, and the waiter informed them that breakfast was only served from eight until ten a.m., although they were welcome to stay in the café as long as they liked. They lingered over coffee and talked, while Kathleen wandered about the room, stopping at every window to look out,
as if one of them might reveal something other than the ocean and sky.
Two little girls entered the room and, glancing at Kathleen, seemed to recognize her.
“It’s Emma,” Kathleen said. “I met her yesterday at the magic show.”
Kathleen pulled the other child close to where they sat and introduced them. Then she turned to Emma again. “You told me you’re not allowed on this deck.”
Emma giggled. “Mama said I’m not to come, but when the stewards aren’t looking, we sneak up here. It’s very crowded on our own deck.”
“Will you get into trouble?”
She only shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. “Would you like to play a game with us?”
“Oh, yes. May I?” Kathleen looked first at Emma, then at Beth and her father.
“What kind of game?” Beth asked.
Emma showed them a peg fastened to a block of wood and a collection of rope circles.
“Is that like Ring Toss?” Richard asked.
The second little girl spoke up. “Me fahver calls it some-fing else. ’e made it for me.”
Emma said, “This is Josie.” Like Emma, Josie appeared to be about six years old.
“Well, Josie and Emma,” Richard said, “I think that would be a fine game, and Kathleen may join you if she likes.”
Kathleen said, “Thank you, Pa-pa.” The three little girls skipped over to a corner of the room and set up their game. Beth and Richard watched for a short time.
Richard turned to Beth again. “Did you play games with your sisters and brothers when you were a child?”
“Yes, a little. Not as often as we would have liked. We had chores that took up some of our time and then school lessons. My younger brothers are still in school. You?”
“The same, but I usually spent any free moments I had reading books.”
Beth smiled. “I love to read, too.”
“Perhaps we enjoyed the same books.” He grinned, as if happy to find another thing they had in common. “I loved Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson.”
Beth smiled back. “So did I.” Even thinking about them having read the same books gave her a tingling feeling, another coincidence that created a bond between them.
“And have you read Dickens—David Copperfield or Great Expectations?”
“Of course. I’m thinking of rereading some of his books this year. It’s the hundredth anniversary of his birth, you know.”
“I believe I saw that in the Times.”
Beth paused to think of other books she’d read. She glanced toward the children and found them busy taking turns throwing the rope circles at the target peg.
“I loved A Tale of Two Cities,” Richard said.
“And The Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Orczy,” Beth added, “which was also about the French Revolution.”
“I think I missed that one. Did you read books by any American writers?”
“I’m sure I did. I just can’t think of them now.” She was surprised she could remember anything at all, when his eyes stared into hers with such admiration.
“Probably you’ve read all of Shakespeare.”
“Of course. Didn’t you?”
“Not all. Only what was required for my English literature classes. Not being British, you know. In addition, you must remember, I had farm chores.”
“I’m amazed you could do any reading for pleasure during the days in which you worked on the farm or while at university.”
He pushed his chair away from the table, leaned against the back of it and stretched his legs forward, while at the same time crossing his arms over his chest.
“Actually, I’ve done more reading in the past three years than at any time in my life.”
“And why particularly those years?”
“Because of Kathleen’s mother.”
Beth felt herself blush. “Oh, I’m sorry. I should have guessed.”
“No reason for you to have remembered.”
But she ought to have remembered. She visualized him sitting alone after his wife died, reading books to take his mind off the reality of her passing. On the other hand, he was right in a way. Since they’d met, he never acted like a man in mourning. Especially not lately, not in his attentions to her. Still, a long time had passed since Kathleen’s mother died, and mourning did end.
She returned the conversation to their previous subject. “And what books have you been reading these past three years?”
“I confess I’ve stooped to stories about Sherlock Holmes.”
Beth laughed. “Don’t say that. You’ll make me feel guilty. I read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s stories as well.”
“They are a great way to take one’s mind off the present, especially a not-too-pleasant present.” He laughed at his choice of rhyming words.
“I’m sure that’s true.”
“I won’t need them anymore, now that I’ve met you.”
To hide the warmth that suffused her cheeks, Beth rose and went to one of the windows before speaking. “I’m so glad you find my company agreeable, but you needn’t stop reading those stories on my account. I find them most entertaining.”
“I have one with me,” he said next. “If you haven’t read it, perhaps we could read it aloud after dinner this evening.”
“That sounds like a splendid idea.” Her pulse beat in her throat. “Unless, of course, you intend to make good on your promise to teach me to play Bridge.”
“I couldn’t do that effectively even if I wanted to, as it requires four people.”
“Of course. I should have guessed, since it evolved from Whist.”
“Perhaps another time.”
After a glance at the children, who were now playing Tag among the tables and chairs, Beth sat down again. “Which one of Sir Arthur’s books do you have with you?”
“The Return of Sherlock Holmes. I believe it’s his latest collection.”
She hoped not to sound too eager about them reading together. “I shall be glad to know how Holmes survived his death in the previous novel.”
“Then we shall find out together this evening.”
The children had become rather noisy, and Beth turned her attention to them. Josie had tagged Kathleen rather hard, almost knocking her down.
Richard, who had noticed it as well, grasped Kathleen’s arm as she ran by. “It’s time we went back to our room. Say goodbye to your friends.”
“May I go with them later? They say Mr. Palmer is going to do his magic tricks again.”
He paused for a moment. “Perhaps.”
Kathleen retrieved Toby from a corner chair and said goodbye to Emma and Josie. “If I am allowed to go, will you wait for me by the lift, I mean, the ele-bator?”
Emma and Josie, apparently not caring if Kathleen joined them or not, giggled and scampered out of the café without answering.
Kathleen took Beth’s hand and stood still, head down, a slight frown on her face.
Beth wondered how the child felt at the seeming indifference of her newfound playmates. Perhaps that was a new experience for her. Perhaps her doting aunts and cousins, back in London, would never have behaved that way toward her. Polite behavior, she knew, was instilled into the children of privilege at a very tender age. As a governess, she had taught her charges the very same rules and habits.
But, perhaps it was better that Kathleen learned a little about all kinds of people now. Those were lessons she might learn in America, where almost everyone would be different. Not that they would be rude. In her three years in New York, she’d found everyone kind, polite and helpful. She sighed and smiled down at Kathleen. Unlike Lady Wheatly’s children, Kathleen would not be returning to England any time soon.
She wondered what Richard’s cousin, who had agreed to care for the child in America, would be like. A small knot of jealousy formed in her middle. Besides her growing attraction to Richard, she was already beginning to feel like Kathleen’s mother. Could she willingly let her go once they set foot in New Yor
k?
Chapter 11
They had lingered in the café almost into lunchtime so, after returning to the stateroom, Richard asked the steward to bring a tray of sandwiches. They ate in the sitting room, using the tea table.
Beth suggested Kathleen might wish to take a nap.
“I’m not sleepy,” she protested.
Beth gently led her into the other room. “I know, but perhaps Toby is. All that play this morning may have tired her.”
Kathleen quickened her pace at that and, once in Beth’s cabin, went straight to the canopied bed. The steward had already made it up, so she placed Toby on top of the spread.
“Let’s make Toby comfortable.” Beth pulled the bedspread from the pillows and made a place for the doll. “There. Do you think she’ll be all right now? She won’t mind being alone?”
“I’ll stay with her until she goes to sleep.” Kathleen climbed onto the bed, and Beth took off the child’s shoes. In a few minutes the girl was asleep.
Richard poked his head in. “If you don’t mind, I shall take advantage of the gymnasium for an hour or so.”
“Yes, do that. The exercise will be a welcome change for you.”
“You should do that as well. Tomorrow, perhaps. I believe ladies’ hours are from nine in the morning until noon.”
“Perhaps I will.”
After Richard gathered a suitable change of clothes and left the room, Beth stretched out on the couch. She’d had fewer than her usual hours of sleep the night before and needed a nap to refresh her for the evening ahead. However, thoughts of Richard kept intruding, as they had the night before. She enjoyed his company, and now that she knew he didn’t consider her a mere servant, she allowed herself to hope they might have a future together.
She’d urged him, on more than one occasion, to go into the smoking room or squash court and meet other gentlemen, but he showed no interest. On the one occasion he’d gone to dinner alone, he met other people in the dining saloon, even a beautiful, unattached young woman, but he apparently had no interest in her. He seemed to prefer being with Beth and Kathleen. Surely, if he only felt obligated to entertain her while they crossed the Atlantic, he wouldn’t have said the things he did. His interest in her must be genuine. She felt certain that when they arrived in New York, he wouldn’t vanish from her life as suddenly as he had entered it.
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