Flora's Secret

by Anita Davison

She rounded the corner and hurtled onto the port side, where the deck stretched before her, empty but for a line of sulphurous lights burning on the bulkhead. She paused, her nerves alert for footsteps, or the sound of a swinging door, but all she heard was the persistent rumble of the ship’s engines several decks below.

  Her gaze searched the line of blank doors beneath bulkhead lamps, their yellow glow dulled into blurry halos by the fog. She was alone. Frustrated, she banged her clenched fist against the rail and flung away, striding back the way she had come. When she reached the top of the companionway where the metal steps dropped below her feet into a soup-like mist, panic bunched beneath her ribs. Halting, she glanced around but saw nothing, only an empty deck.

  The hairs on her neck rose and a shiver ran through her, as if a vengeful spirit had passed close by. Then came a grunt to her left, followed by a rough, painful shove between her shoulder blades that launched her forwards into empty air.

  She groped for the handrail, but missed, the sensation of falling making her stomach lurch sickeningly. The deck came up to meet her like a black wall, and she slammed against the boards, the air expelled from her lungs in a painful rush.

  She lay still, trying to breathe, but her ribs would not obey. Her heart hammered as she anticipated footsteps that meant whoever had pushed her was on their way to finish her off. Seconds passed slowly, during which an image of the jagged gash on Parnell’s head came back to her. She closed her eyes but panic built as she still could not take in a breath.

  She started to feel dizzy, but heard nothing, while her own voice in her head screamed at her to calm down and breathe.

  Slowly, her chest moved and she took in a gasp of air, then a larger one, until her shallow, rapid breathing settled into a more regular rhythm.

  With slow, tentative stretches, Flora moved her toes, then her ankles, until with measured, stiff movements, she pushed herself gradually up onto an elbow.

  ‘Miss! Miss!’ a youthful male voice shouted. ‘Are you all right?’ A pair of uniformed legs ending in regulation shoes filled her vision. Judging him one of the crew, and hopefully benign, she lifted her head to where his silhouette stood out against scudding clouds and wisps of fog that made her head spin.

  ‘Did you see him?’ Supporting herself on her palms, she eased into a crouch, surprised when there seemed to be nothing broken.

  ‘See who, Miss?’ The crewman leaned down, tucked his shoulder into her armpit and hauled her upright.

  ‘The man who pushed me.’ Flora tested her weight on the sole of her left foot that sent a nausea-inducing pain through her leg. Hopping onto her right foot, she leaned against the sailor, grabbing the rail for support on her other side.

  ‘I saw only you, Miss. Took quite a tumble, you did.’ The boy-man took in her gown and grinned. ‘That party punch carries a bit of a wallop, doesn’t it? No wonder you were a bit shaky on those steps.’

  Incensed, Flora stiffened but was too shaken to argue. Besides, she had only had one glass, or was it two?

  ‘Thank you, but I’m neither drunk nor dead.’ Pain and his implied insult made her snap. She leaned both forearms on the rail and bent forwards, fighting dizziness.

  ‘I was sure you were going to end up like—’ he broke off mid-sentence. ‘I’ll send someone to fetch the doctor, shall I, Miss?’

  ‘Would you take me back to my suite first? Then if it isn’t too much trouble, fetch Mr Harrington? He’s probably still in the dining room.’ She visualized Bunny drumming his fingers on the table, checking his watch every few seconds. The thought comforted her – a little.

  Despite the sailor half carrying her up the steps to the promenade deck, their hop and pause technique made their progress frustratingly slow, hampered further when the crewman stopped to instruct a passing colleague to fetch Bunny. When they finally reached the upper deck, the sailor manhandled her inside the suite, apologizing profusely when her injured foot glanced off the door frame.

  ‘What happened, Flora?’ Eddy stood at the open door to his bedroom, his eyes wide and frightened. ‘I-I stayed here like you said.’

  ‘Now, young sir,’ the crewman clucked like a schoolmaster, though he couldn’t have been more than five years Eddy’s senior, ‘give the lady a chance to catch her breath. She’s had a little fall.’

  ‘I have not had – oh, never mind.’ Flora gritted her teeth and cast a longing look at the closed door of her bedroom but abandoned that plan and lowered herself into the nearest chair.

  Why was someone in their suite? Crowe was under lock and key in his stateroom. Everyone must have known she was at the dance, but surely they had not come to hurt Eddy?

  Bunny appeared at the door, his breathing fast and shallow as if he had run all the way from the dining room. ‘A crewman said there had been an accident!’ He entered the room, closely followed by the crewman who had been sent to fetch him, and crouched beside her, all knees and elbows as he attempted a hug but withdrew when he realized there were two pairs of eyes watching them.

  ‘That’s what they always say.’ Flora glared at the crewmen, neither of whom appeared to be doing anything useful.

  ‘Did that man hurt you, Flora?’ Eddy hovered at her shoulder.

  ‘What man?’ Bunny’s stern gaze went from Flora to Eddy and back again.

  ‘I was pushed down the companionway,’ Flora said, narrowing her eyes at the sailor’s sceptical look, though Bunny’s shocked face was more satisfying. ‘You might suggest a search, though I doubt it would do much good now.’

  ‘Did you see this man, Eddy?’ Bunny asked, his gaze flicking to the young sailor, who shook his head.

  ‘We both heard him,’ Eddy insisted. ‘He was in the sitting room. Flora went after him.’

  ‘He was real!’ Flora slapped her skirt, then winced at the sudden pain that jarred her ankle.

  ‘The doctor is on his way, sir,’ Flora’s young helpmate said at Bunny’s shoulder.

  ‘Good. Thank you, but I can handle it from here.’ He ushered the crewman to one side, where they conducted a brief, one-sided conversation before returning to her side.

  ‘They’ll take a quick look around the decks to see if anyone is still about,’ Bunny said, returning to where she sat. ‘But they cannot accuse anyone found admiring the night ocean of having attacked you.’

  ‘It’s not as if I could describe him, either.’ Flora propped her head in one hand. ‘I should imagine several people have long cloaks, which is all I saw.’ Her initial anger dissipated as she began to see things from a bystander’s view. Like the sailor who helped her, everyone would assume she had been at the punch bowl and simply lost her footing.

  Dr Fletcher stepped into the minor chaos in his white dress uniform, all brisk efficiency and terse questions about where her foot hurt, the answer to which was everywhere, and where had it spread, which seemed to be everywhere as well. Apart from a sharp gasp at his rough handling of her foot, she remained stoically silent.

  ‘I doubt you’ve broken your ankle, Miss Maguire,’ he pronounced on completion of his examination. ‘Sprained most like. I’ll bind it for you. Keep it elevated until the swelling goes down. And get lots of rest.’

  He delved into his ubiquitous black bag, withdrawing a familiar brown bottle she had last seen Bunny put into his pocket.

  Dr Fletcher smiled as if he read her mind, pouring the contents into a tiny glass. ‘You refused my ministrations before, but I insist you take this. It will help you with the pain and allow you to sleep.’

  Flora eyed the murky brown liquid with distaste, then held her breath and tossed it to the back of her throat, swallowing it in one go. ‘Ugh! That’s bitter.’

  ‘There’s a good girl!’ The doctor hefted his bag into one hand. ‘I’ll come back in the morning to check on you. Goodnight, Miss Maguire, Mr Harrington.’ The pause between their names held a multitude of speculation, but Flora was too weary to protest.

  ‘He’s annoying,’ Bunny said when the door closed behind him.


  ‘Papa says it’s compulsory for medical men.’ Eddy sat draped over the opposite chair, his leg swinging. ‘Optimism and a patronizing manner is their stock-in-trade.’ Flora swallowed repeatedly in an effort to rid herself of the medicinal taste, then attempted a smile, short-circuited as a wave of nausea enveloped her. ‘Oh, dear. I think I’m going to be sick—’

  Bunny moved incredibly fast for a man who had been in a half-crouch beside her a moment before. In seconds, he shoved the porcelain bowl from her dresser into her hands.

  The wave of sickness passed without any visible result. ‘It’s gone. But thank you anyway.’

  ‘My pleasure.’ Bunny removed the bowl, placing it on a nearby table.

  ‘I didn’t hear the intruder come in.’ Eddy said, dismay clouding his features.

  ‘It’s not your fault.’ Flora patted his hand absently. She didn’t want to think about what might have happened if she hadn’t returned at that exact moment.

  ‘C’mon, old man.’ Bunny guided Eddy back to his room. ‘It’s getting very late. Back to bed with you so you can get some sleep.’

  Eddy issued a half-hearted protest, but allowed himself to be led away.

  ‘He’s trying to be brave, I can tell,’ Flora said when Bunny returned.

  ‘It could have been worse.’ He perched on the arm of the chair. ‘He might have come face to face with this chap.’

  ‘I’m so glad he didn’t.’ Flora shifted in her chair, groaning when pain shot through her hip.

  Concern darkened his eyes, as he clapped his hands on his thighs and rose. ‘Someone will have to help you into bed.’

  ‘It isn’t going to be you, Mr Bunny Harrington. I’ll get the stewardess to do it.’

  ‘I wasn’t offering, as it happens.’ He pushed his glasses further up his nose by the bridge, and pressed the bell beside the mantle.

  Returning, he squatted beside her chair, his face inches from hers. ‘I want to apologize for my short temper earlier. I should never have spoken to you like that. It’s just that, well we were having such a lovely time at the dance and for a little while I wanted to forget about death and – well, you know.’ He gave a light shrug. ‘I was enjoying your company immensely. Was that selfish of me?’

  ‘No, I was too. You’re forgiven, if I am for storming off like that.’ It occurred to her then that if she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have found the intruder at all. Then what would have happened?

  ‘You did scare me though. When I heard they had found you at the bottom of the companionway, I thought—’

  ‘That I was lying dead on the deck like Mr—’

  ‘Not a bit like Mr Parnell,’ he interrupted. ‘He went down quietly, whereas you, my dear girl never will.’ He raised one sardonic eyebrow to show he was only joking as he tucked a blanket round her. ‘I’ll make sure a crewman remains outside this suite tonight.’ He placed a cushion behind her head. ‘Then I need to report to our detective friend.’

  Flora didn’t comment on what Mr Hersch was going to say about her latest escapade. Her future at Pinkertons didn’t look too promising if she wasn’t capable of apprehending one intruder.

  ‘I’m going to be black and blue in the morning,’ she said through a yawn. ‘I can feel the bruises erupt as I sit here.’ Her tongue felt thick in her mouth, her words a slurred mumble as the sedative took effect. ‘Tell me one thing before you go.’

  ‘What’s that?’ He ducked his head close to her face as if he had trouble hearing her.

  ‘What is your name?’ Despite her attempt to keep them open, her eyes fluttered closed and she could no longer see his face.

  ‘It’s Ptolemy.’ The embarrassed laugh in his voice sent pleasant ripples into her stomach, though she was convinced she must have misheard as her head started to float gently. She didn’t have the energy to ask him to repeat it, and when the stewardess arrived to help her out of Cynthia’s gown, Bunny had gone.

  Chapter 23

  Friday

  Flora clenched her bottom lip between her teeth and lifted her swollen ankle gingerly onto the foot stool Eddy had thoughtfully, if noisily, kicked across the room toward her.

  ‘Does it hurt much?’ He crouched on the floor at her elbow, his eyes sharp with concern. ‘Shall I stay here and keep you company?’

  ‘Yes, to the first question, but no to the second. You’ll be bored, and besides, all I need is a pot of the stewardess’ best coffee.’ She kept her voice light-hearted for his benefit, but the memory of a hard shove at her back and the sickening sensation of falling brought the previous night back in full force.

  Her drug-induced slumber hadn’t lasted long and pain had woken her in the early hours. She spent the remainder of the night in a futile attempt to get comfortable, but even the weight of the bedclothes sent a dull ache into her hip that radiated downwards into her thigh and knee and her right ankle was swollen to twice its size. She had lain, restless and impatient waiting until daylight poked through her blinds, then rose and begun the awkward task of dressing, which took far longer than normal.

  ‘I heard you and Mr Harrington talking last night,’ Eddy said. ‘The sailor said you fell, but I told him over and over you were pushed, but he just laughed and said something about fruit punch’

  Flora’s heart sank. ‘Maybe I was wrong as it all happened so fast. Anyway, he’s not about to come back.’

  ‘I don’t believe you. I know when you’re fibbing and you weren’t last night.’ His eyes narrowed but with dismay rather than anger. ‘That man did hurt you and how do you know he won’t come back?’ He dropped his chin onto the arm of her chair and stared up at her, an appeal in his eyes.

  ‘Well, I don’t, of course.’ Flora hesitated, aware she had failed to keep him out of harm’s way, with or without Bunny’s steward and the vigilance of the Gilmore’s. If he wasn’t safe inside their suite, where would he be? She didn’t want to lie to him, but didn’t want to frighten him either.

  ‘If either you or Ozzy are worried about anything you see or hear, all you have to do is shout for a crewman.’ She was about to mention the one Bunny had hired would always be close by, but Eddy would be the first to remind her he hadn’t been there when the intruder arrived.

  Eddy pushed a hand through his wayward hair, reminding her she must remember to get it cut. The temptation to keep him with her all day was strong, but that was neither fair nor practical.

  The Gilmores had sent a get well card together with a note promising to keep an eye on him until she was mobile again, though it was obvious from its tone they didn’t feel it was necessary.

  That terrifying moment just before her foot stepped into thin air kept returning. She was pushed – but by whom?

  ‘I’m glad Mr Harrington is looking after you.’ Eddy picked at his sleeve, self-conscious. ‘I-I think you look really good together. Even better than Meely and that Vanderbilt chap.’

  Flora’s hand stilled in the process of smoothing his hair. ‘I’m glad you like him. He’s a kind man and a welcome friend for the voyage.’

  ‘That isn’t what I meant. You’re quite old now, Flora, it’s time you had a beau.’

  ‘Indeed?’ She slapped his shoulder lightly, torn between laughter and pique. ‘Thank you for the advice, young man, I’ll give it due consideration. Now off you go to breakfast before it’s all gone.’

  ‘In a minute.’ Eddy’s teeth worried at his lower lip. ‘I have a confession to make.’

  ‘You’re an Anglican, Eddy, you don’t make confessions.’ Her clumsy attempt to make him smile failed miserably as his bottom lip quivered.

  ‘Well, I need to this time,’ he persisted. ‘It could be my fault you got hurt.’

  ‘Why would you think that?’ She eased her upper body in search of a more comfortable position, but then wished she hadn’t when pain flared in her ankle.

  ‘Ozzy and me’ – he hunched his shoulders and stared at his hands – ‘well, we found this thing in Mr Harrington’s motor car. I’ll show yo
u.’

  Before she could ask what he meant, he had scrambled to his feet and disappeared into his room, reappearing again seconds later with a flat stick about a foot long, made of dark wood that he held reverently in both hands.

  Flora took it from him, the wood smooth, almost waxy to the touch, a vague memory intruding, of the boys with Gerald as they played a game on the deck, but the image remained indistinct.

  ‘We found it stuffed down the back of the seat,’ Eddy said. ‘Ozzy said we should take turns looking after it. Is this why the man came to our room last night? He wanted this back?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’ She weighed it in her hands, where a gold strip of metal cut through the polished wood a third of the way down. ‘It looks foreign, oriental maybe. What are these marks carved into it?’

  ‘I didn’t notice that.’ Eddy peered at it. ‘Looks like some sort of cuneiform writing.’

  ‘It looks well made, whatever it is.’ She let the object drop to her lap. ‘This doesn’t belong to you, Eddy, and could be valuable. We must find out to whom it belongs.’

  ‘We weren’t going to keep it.’ Eddy’s voice rose slightly. ‘Not forever, anyway. We didn’t know what it was at first, which is why I brought it to you. I thought you should see what it does-look.’

  He held the stick at either end and tugged it gently. The end slid off smoothly, revealing a thin steel blade that tapered into a point at the top.

  ‘It’s a knife,’ he said unnecessarily.

  ‘So I see.’ With far more care than she had used previously, she took it gently from him, making sure the sharp blade came nowhere near her skin. ‘When exactly did you find it?’ The possibility that it belonged to Bunny made her heart race. She held her breath, hoping Eddy would disabuse her, but why else would it be in his motor car?

  ‘Yesterday, before dinner.’ He hunched his shoulders in the nonchalant shrug employed by boys when they know they have done something they shouldn't, but prefer not to explain. ‘It wasn’t there on Tuesday.’

  Eddy dropped his chin, suddenly sheepish. ‘Am I in trouble?’