Catch Me If You Can

by Juliette Cosway

  He should have given her loss more attention. He should have considered her fragile state. Perhaps he’d also been too forthright, or over-familiar. Dammit. He shook his head. He usually had more finesse with the fairer sex. Something about Eleanor made him loss sight of those skills. In fact, the more she defied him, the more fascinated he seemed to get.

  What is this accursed affliction? he wondered.

  If he could work out how to handle her, he could make her see sense. He must to handle it right though, that much was clear. She was a hothead. Right now, she was upset and needed time to get used to the idea of traveling under his guidance and protection.

  He yawned into his port and pulled out his fob watch. It was near ten. In twelve hours they would set sail. He smiled wearily to himself. One thing was certain, there was no way she could give him the slip aboard ship. She would be safe enough for the duration.

  He pictured her flashing blue eyes. An ache immediately flared in his loins.

  He groaned and reached for the bottle.

  She was nothing but trouble, that damn woman.

  Chapter Seven

  The Lady Embarks

  Eleanor gripped the handrail and watched the dockside shrink away.

  The crowd of people down there were still waving, their hands specks of movement among the mass. She wondered if Rivers was on board, for she’d not seen him since their encounter the evening before. Had he stayed at The Metropole, or had he gone elsewhere?

  She dwelled for a moment on the image of his dusty coat, thinking of his long ride from Dover. A pang of guilt stole up inside her. She tried to shake it off. It didn’t matter where he was, she shouldn’t care – at least, that’s what she told herself.

  She looked down at the water furling up from the mighty engines below. The ship was turning slowly toward the horizon. The water was distancing her from the land, she was on her way.

  “It’s very bad for your looks, to have cried over leaving England.” Miette’s voice drew her back from her thoughts. Her friend peered at the dark shadows beneath Eleanor’s eyes.

  “Oh, I cried for my father, that’s why.” Eleanor hadn’t informed Miette of the situation with Rivers and couldn’t face doing so as yet. “Although departing my Queen and country does feel rather odd this time.”

  She smiled and took her friend’s arm, who nodded and squeezed her hand.

  Miette had arrived late in the evening and the two had chatted into the night before retiring to bed. Within minutes, her old friend had lifted Eleanor’s spirits and by the end of the evening, they were both looking forward to the prospect of the voyage ahead.

  They strolled along the deck, and she could tell from the glances of the other passengers that made quite the sight – she in her mourning garb with her black hair and blue eyes, Miette with copper hair, green eyes and elfin features. Eleanor wore a fitted velvet traveling frockcoat in black, with a matching skirt. Her pin-tucked blouse had an oval brooch of silver inlaid with black jet, set against the high collar, as did the black hat set at an angle on her hair.

  Miette was extravagant in her dress and wore a long and large fur coat, with a tall collar that framed her face. Exotic feathers curled down from her hat to touch her forehead. She peeped through them at Eleanor.

  “We have much to talk about. I want to hear about everything since we last met.” Her eyes twinkled mischievously. The old camaraderie of their school days had rekindled.

  They took shelter inside, the crisp cold of the December day biting into their bones. The saloon area was awash with people and luggage. As they moved amongst the crowds, the increased movement of the ship as it passed outside the harbor rolled through Eleanor. It was a strange feeling and she chuckled as she made her feet step in time with the movement.

  The passengers chattered, alliances being established as hands reached for the same bags. Everyone was made to laugh at themselves and each other while they found their sea legs.

  It was the largest ship she’d been on and Eleanor was truly startled at how ostentatious the vessel was inside. The saloon was breathtaking, it’s huge space framed by the ornately decorated ceiling and walls. Padded leather seats nestled in booths along the walls, punctuated with framed paintings between them. One could be in a grand palace anywhere in Europe; it was difficult to believe they were at sea. The atmosphere was gay and extravagant and Eleanor enjoyed the surroundings.

  Miette, however, waved her hand in dismissal at the crowds. “Leave this rabble. I’ll get Felix to collect our luggage.”

  “Felix?”

  “My manservant.”

  “Ah,” Eleanor replied.

  With a pensive look, Miette added, “I’ll get him to bring yours first so I can examine what you have to wear. We’ll go to your cabin.”

  Eleanor smiled, she’d forgotten about her friend’s obsession with clothes.

  The cabin was luxurious. It was large and warm, heated by huge pipes that traveled through the walls. Furnished in the elegant style of a Parisian boudoir, it had ornate furniture and rich, flocked wallpaper in muted reds and greens. A heavy mahogany writing desk sat below the porthole, which Miette immediately covered over with the velvet curtain, as if she’d no desire to know they were at sea at all. The bed was set up on a plinth against the far wall and had two wide steps leading up to it. The cabin had its own rather grand bathroom, with a huge tub and brass taps. Both rooms were fitted with oil lamps and an ivory button that summoned the steward for immediate attention. Miette wasted no time in using the facility and requested hot cocoa and brandy be brought to them.

  Miette informed her that Felix was her Belgian valet and he’d been with her since she left her family in France, to live in New York. She told Eleanor that he was “Indispensable,” and she never traveled without him. She stood in the center of the cabin, her pert lips pursed, hands on her hips.

  “A valet?” Eleanor quizzed. “I imagined you’d need a maid.”

  “Oh, Felix can do anything for me a woman can, and a few other things besides.” She chuckled heartily, her hands running over her hips and her eyes flashing. It seemed Miette was every bit the libertine she’d promised to become, whilst Eleanor had simply remained more innocent than she professed to be. “I couldn’t travel anywhere without him. He knows what I need and always makes sure everything is done properly.”

  Eleanor looked at Felix with curiosity when he entered the cabin with the first of her luggage. His blond hair was smoothed back from his face giving him a sleek and vigilant look. He was sharp in features, with distinct blue eyes that looked as if they wouldn’t miss a thing. Eleanor noticed how easily he strode in time with the movement of the ship. His gaze coursed over her as he put the bags down where Miette indicated. He nodded to his Mistress, inclined his head at Eleanor, and took his leave.

  So much for sharing the services of Miette’s maid, Eleanor thought. Mrs. Bramley would keel over in fright if she knew.

  Miette rummaged through the trunks and bags with all the eagerness of a puppy looking for its buried bone. Eleanor sat in a high-backed chair, sipped the cup of brandied cocoa and looked on with amusement during the hunt.

  “Of course it’s your fault I won’t be home for Christmas. Frank was most upset, but I told him I had to travel with my grief-stricken friend.”

  Eleanor almost choked on her hot chocolate.

  Miette smiled. “Well...that is to be my excuse. You are my excuse, Eleanor. I was having such a good time in Paris and didn’t want to return to New York. Still, we will be there to welcome in the New Year, what more can he expect?” She held a delicate chemise up to the light to examine the crochet work around its décolletage. “Mm, this is pretty. I’m glad you wrote, for I wouldn’t have had an excuse otherwise, and it’s difficult to think of them.” She laid the chemise to one side and rooted about in the bag again.

  “Couldn’t you say your family delayed you, if you must use an excuse?” Eleanor asked.

  “I’ve used that one too man
y times already, Cherie. Frank is a darling man, but if I’m not careful, it’ll be obvious it’s more than the embrace of my loving family that I seek in Europe. He’s patient and generous with me. I must repay him by acting with as much discretion as I can muster.”

  She walked across to Eleanor, dragging a gown of embroidered tulle across the floor behind her. “I’m so glad to have you with me. The journey can be so tedious if one doesn’t find amusements for oneself. I wish I could grow wings and fly across the ocean. I’ve undertaken this journey five times since I married Frank and, well, it can be very tiring. I mean tiresome.” She flickered her slim eyebrows at Eleanor.

  “Oh?” Eleanor said, her curiosity developing. Whatever could she mean?

  “I normally begin by making myself a little list, you know, so as not to forget anything.” She turned back to the bags and over her shoulder added, “I mean anyone, I still get the words wrong.” The mischief in her words was deliberate. “The first night is the most important for there’s a big party and one gets to meet everyone else. That first night I’m good and I return to my writing desk and make my little list.” She sifted through some undergarments with avid interest.

  “A list of what?”

  “A list of the most interesting gentlemen aboard ship, of course.”

  “Oh,” Eleanor said, somewhat bemused.

  “You must make one too. We’ll find out if we still prefer similar gentlemen.”

  The idea was outrageous, but Eleanor recalled they shared an attraction to both the geography tutor and the fencing instructor at their finishing school. They used to giggle over it and weave girlish fantasies about them. Eleanor suspected Miette had something much more grown up in mind, but it would be fun to know if they still found themselves attracted by the same things in men. Besides, her spirits had lifted more in the last two days than they had over the difficult preceding weeks. The journey was the right thing for her. She knew it for certain. At the back of her mind, she was thinking of the adventures ahead and, above all, stepping in her father’s footsteps.

  Miette gave up her search. “You must wear something of mine.”

  “Don’t forget I must remain in mourning a while longer.”

  Miette nodded rapidly, as if her wardrobe could account for any situation that might present itself. “Come, we’ll look through my things now.” She gestured for Eleanor to follow as she walked toward the door, then stopped and turned back to the pile of abandoned clothes. The floor was strewn with material, and she tiptoed across it. Rooting through the pile of clothing on the bed, she drew out the crocheted chemise that had caught her eye and folded it carefully. Then she took it with her in one hand and led Eleanor from the cabin with the other.

  * * *

  A group of eager companions soon gathered around the two women when they joined the milieu of the pre-dinner champagne reception. Eleanor wore a black gown of Miette’s. Miette insisted it was quite demure and appropriate and it was – at first glance – until one realized it was entirely made of layered lace. Miette informed her that it was the latest thing in Paris.

  Eleanor felt oddly underdressed, although one couldn’t see through the material at any point due to its gauzy, layered structure. It was a little tight for her. Miette was about the same height, but smaller in build. However, she’d insisted that Eleanor wear it and told her that Felix would help with her corsets. Eleanor had refused to allow the valet to dress her, which amused Miette greatly. Between them, they’d pulled the corset as tight as it could be, and managed to get her into the gown.

  Miette wore a shimmering, dark green silk gown, scooped low at the neckline. It was stiff and plain to below the waist and the sheen of the material emphasized her figure. The skirt dropped down in ruches to trail behind her on the floor for several inches. Emeralds sparkled around her throat, like many more eyes flashing on the men that she spoke to.

  Eleanor enjoyed being immersed in the crowd, the noise and hustle of it all, the smiling faces, the atmosphere. She’d not been at such an event for a long time, and she realized it was doing her good. She would’ve happily sat quietly in a corner and absorbed it all, but within moments Miette led an imposing man in uniform to her.

  “Eleanor, dearest, you must meet Captain O’Brian. He’s the most charming man and has entertained me on two of my previous voyages across the Atlantic.”

  Eleanor looked at the man with interest, for the suggestion in Miette’s words wasn’t lost on her. He was a huge man with a beard and a friendly smile that didn’t seem to go with his awesome stature.

  “Captain O’Brian, Miss Eleanor Craven, my traveling companion on this voyage.”

  “Charmed, Miss Craven, to make your acquaintance,” he said, bending over her hand.

  “Captain O’Brian assures me we’ve been seated at his table tonight.” Miette’s eyes sparkled at Eleanor. “It’s such an honor, and on the first night of the voyage too.” She patted the captain fondly on the arm.

  “Oh, how delightful,” Eleanor said demurely. At that point another man in uniform approached the captain and whispered something in his ear.

  He nodded. Addressing the ladies, he gave apologies. “You must excuse me for a few minutes before we dine. The bridge demands my attention.”

  The two women didn’t reply immediately, for they were looking on at the messenger. Miette gripped the captain’s arm. “We’ll only excuse you if you introduce us to your officer, so that we might enjoy his company in your absence, Captain.”

  Captain O’Brian looked decidedly annoyed and glanced around for some several moments whilst the second man stood awkwardly at one side.

  Eleanor realized that if Miette always had a ‘list’ of gentlemen she would like to meet, the captain had probably had to share her company with others before. If he hadn’t relished doing so on previous occasions, he wouldn’t be keen to make further introductions. He certainly looked as if he would rather have kept her company to himself on this voyage.

  Finally he cleared his throat and turned to the uniformed man. “Officer Simpkins,” he said, gruffly, as he walked off.

  The officer stepped forward and bowed to the two women. Miette told the man their names, while eyeing him over.

  Miette was incorrigible, but the officer clearly enjoyed their attention. He was a handsome young gent, with short brown hair that fell into tight curls where it was a bit longer on his forehead. His clear blue eyes looked eagerly from one of them, to the other. When quizzed, he told them his first name was Freddie. He blushed as Miette repeated it, caressing each letter with her soft voice.

  “And where do you hail from, Freddie?” she asked, looking at him coyly.

  He told her that he was originally from Oxford, shifting from one foot to the other at the attention of the two women. This was only his third voyage on the Atlantic, and before that he’d worked on a ferry service to France. Without being prompted, he fetched them fresh glasses of champagne from the passing waiter.

  “A most charming and eager companion,” Miette commented to Eleanor while his back was turned.

  Eleanor chuckled. That poor young man.

  Miette went on to ply him with questions about the engine capacity of the liner and the expected length of their journey. The three were still conversing amiably when Eleanor caught sight of Rivers approaching.

  So, he was on board. Her heart rate rapidly increased.

  She had the same rush of confused emotions as the previous evening, at the hotel in Southampton. When she glanced back, she realized that he seemed to be heading toward her with real purpose, a look of grim determination on his face.

  He marched straight up to her and her companions. “Miss Craven.” He inclined his head. “I thought I should seek you out, merely to say a polite good evening at the earliest opportunity. I trust you are enjoying your journey thus far?”

  He was decidedly distant, she noted. Perhaps their agreement wouldn’t be too hard to implement, after all. Good. Now, if only she could stop
the pounding of her blood at his very proximity.

  Miette offered her hand to Rivers, whilst glancing from Eleanor, to him, and back, with blatant curiosity. “Miette Du Bois-O’Neill.”

  Rivers looked at her as if he hadn’t noticed her presence before she spoke. He gave a quick bow. “Mademoiselle.”

  “Madame.” Miette smiled dazzlingly at him when she delivered the clarification.

  Eleanor’s chest tightened. An unaccountable feeling of possessiveness had come over her when she sensed Miette’s blatant interest in Rivers. She tried to dismiss it.

  “Are you French, Monsieur?” Miette quizzed.

  “I was born in America and consider myself an American, although my family is French, yes.” His reply was curt.

  Surely Miette couldn’t think him charming? Why, he looked positively ill-humored. But, no, Miette was definitely curious. What if she put him on her list?

  Eleanor silently fumed. If Miette was foolhardy enough to put him on her list, that was her problem. He certainly wouldn’t appear on any list of hers. When Rivers bowed courteously over Miette’s hand, she turned to Eleanor.

  “Why, Eleanor, I didn’t realize you knew someone else traveling on this voyage.” Her curiosity was blatant. She eyed him appraisingly.

  Eleanor flushed with annoyance and tried to reason with herself. Yes, he was a fine figure of a man, of course Miette would notice.

  “Mr. Rivers is an acquaintance,” Eleanor said, tersely. She wished she could have retracted the statement immediately.

  Rivers straightened. His dark eyes glittered.

  It was unnecessary to be quite so rude, and she chastised herself.

  “Pleased to meet you, Madame. I work for Miss Craven’s Aunt in California. However, we travel on the same voyage by coincidence.”

  It was a lie and Eleanor knew she’d insulted him. She blushed, wishing again she hadn’t been so discourteous. He was right – she was acting like a feeble woman. It was his fault though. He drove her to it by treating her as one.