Cold April (12 page)

“
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.

She recalled that first morning on the dock at Southampton when he’d saved her from the reckless lorry driver. She had looked into his handsome, smiling face and believed, at least temporarily, that he might pursue a relationship. Even after that notion seemed unlikely, their subsequent meetings had done nothing to reduce her attraction to him. Even without his wealth—which no woman, even in the twentieth century, could discount—she found him a charming companion: polite, sensitive, and intelligent. She also admired his attachment to his daughter, a trait any woman who had or hoped to have children would appreciate. She visualized future moments with Richard, holding him close, kissing him, being kissed. She began to feel it not unreasonable to entertain hopes of a future as Mrs. Richard Graham.

Having harbored such thoughts instead of napping, she worried someone might be able to read them in her expression, and her face felt warm to the touch. She decided to leave Kathleen in Richard’s care upon his return and get her own exercise, perhaps a few long walks in the fresh air on the various decks.

He agreed at once. “I must apologize for being away so long. After using the equipment in the gymnasium, I couldn’t resist trying out the swimming pool.”

“
I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

“
If you have a swimming costume with you, you should try it yourself.” He paused. “Or, if you don’t, they might lend you one.”

“
Thank you for thinking of me. Perhaps tomorrow.”

“
It is rather late, isn’t it?”

“
I’ll just take a few turns around the deck before dinner.”

Beth left the stateroom and walked toward the promenade deck.

A friendly voice greeted her. “Miss Shallcross, I believe.” Harry Palmer made an exaggerated bow. “May I join you?”

Beth turned to the young man, who wore a different outfit from the one she’d last seen him in. Rather than his magician’s coat and trousers, he was dressed in a well-cut suit, shirt and tie in a light tan color that almost matched his sandy hair.

“
Mr. Palmer. I didn’t expect to see you again.”

“
I knew I would see you. I just didn’t know when. I worried that you might never come out.”

“
Come out? What do you mean?”

“
I’ve been watching your door in hopes you’d appear. I know you’re traveling with Mr. Graham.”

“
I’m governess for his daughter Kathleen.”

“
I saw him in the swimming bath, so I returned to my cabin, changed clothes, and came here to call on you.”

“
You didn’t call on me.”

“
No, because Mr. Graham got here before me. So I just waited, hoping you’d come out alone, and now you have done so.” He grinned.

Beth couldn’t help grinning as well. “How long were you prepared to wait?”

“
However long it took. Well, until I was needed elsewhere or became too hungry, whichever came first. At these prices, I don’t care to miss the dinner hour.”

“
Are you traveling in ...” She didn’t want to say “steerage,” so she paused.

“
Second class.”

“
But we’re walking now on the first-class promenade deck.”

“
I have a friend who’s a steward and generally looks the other way.”

“
I see.”

“
Actually, I go almost everywhere on the ship I like. As you know, I do magic shows in both second and third class, but I don’t often come up here.”

He took hold of her hand briefly, letting it go almost at once. “I now have a very good reason to do so.”

“
And that is?”

“
To see you, of course.”

“
But you didn’t even knock on my door.”

“
I confess I wasn’t sure how Mr. Graham would react to my presence. Although I only met him the once yesterday, I detected a, shall we say, proprietary look where you’re concerned.”

“
He’s paying my salary, so he’s naturally concerned about me.”

“
He has more than an employer’s look in his eye when he glances in your direction.”

Beth found that very interesting, especially since it matched her own conclusions about Richard’s feelings for her. Yet she questioned Palmer anyway. “And how do you know that, when you’ve only just met?”

“
It’s a gift. A second sense. I’m smitten with you, so I can easily tell when another bloke is as well.”

“
Smitten with me?” She gave a little laugh. “You and I met only yesterday as well.”

“
Don’t you believe in love at first sight?”

She thought about her first meeting with Richard. It hadn’t been exactly that, but close enough, and she enjoyed bantering with Harry Palmer. “Not really. A person may seem handsome or beautiful at first glance but turn out to be most undesirable on further acquaintance. Think of Dorian Gray.”

“
But I know more about you already than you may realize. Besides being a governess—and a very conscientious one at that—you have a way with children. In my opinion, children are never fooled. They know good people from bad.”

She tended to agree with him. “And you know this because ...? Do you have children of your own?”

“
Not yet, but I hope to have dozens one day.”

“
Heavens, I hope the lady you marry will approve of that.”

“
Meanwhile, I indulge my fantasy by entertaining children whenever I can.”

“
I’m sure that will be an asset whenever you find the right woman.”

“
Are you trying to tell me it isn’t you?” He stopped, stared at her and assumed a shocked expression.

Beth laughed. “I’m afraid not.”

“
Are you already spoken for? Has Mr. Graham or some other lucky bloke got ahead of me?”

“
No one has spoken for me, but I’m not ready for marriage even if one had.”

“
Then there’s still hope.” He stooped before her, looked up and clutched his breast as if to still a rapidly beating heart.

She laughed and turned to leave, but he was soon beside her.

“
There’s a big ‘to-do’ tomorrow night. May I expect to find you there?”

“
In second class?”

“
Third. Still, all the best things happen down there. I’ll be waiting for you to come, and I expect to dance with you.”

“
You may expect all you like, but don’t pin your hopes on it happening.”

He grinned again. “I like a woman who plays hard to get.” When she didn’t answer, he added, “But it will be worth the getting, I’m certain.”

Beth felt her cheeks warm and knew she was blushing. She turned away from him, realizing they’d gone completely around the deck and were close to her own cabin again. “Goodbye, Mr. Palmer.”

“
Au revoir. I shall see you again—you may count on it.” He took her hand again, and this time he brought it to his lips and kissed it.

She entered her cabin and closed the door. She liked Harry Palmer, but not in the way he hoped—she regarded him more like her oldest brother, whom he somewhat resembled. She looked forward to the time when Richard Graham would say the same kind of charming things to her. Besides, the voyage wasn’t over yet.

Chapter 12

Following another eight-course dinner in the dining saloon—which, to Beth’s relief, did not include the Thornton family—Richard led the three of them back to the stateroom. Kathleen pleaded with Beth to read from one of her story books before putting her to bed, and Beth readily agreed.

When the little girl was dressed in her night-dress and robe, Beth led her to a comfortable chair in the sitting room. Much to Beth’s delight, Kathleen climbed into her lap, as if that were the most natural thing to do.

As Beth put her arm around the child and read the story, mimicking the different characters’ voices as well as she could, Richard called for the steward and asked him to bring coffee and tea.

After Kathleen was tucked into her canopied bed in the other room, Beth and Richard settled into chairs. Richard pulled out his copy of The Return of Sherlock Holmes.

“
The first story is called ‘The Adventure of the Empty House.’ It relates how Holmes, after a three-year absence, reappears in Watson’s life.” He began to read aloud.

After a while, Conan Doyle’s style of writing, which was always from Watson’s viewpoint, made Beth fidget.

“
He does take his time getting to the important part, doesn’t he?”

“
Shall I skip ahead?”

“
Please. I do enjoy your reading to me, but sometimes these Sherlock Holmes adventures are quite long.”

Richard turned pages until he found the place where the narrative began to get more interesting. With his usual pleasant, deep voice, he repeated the dialogue of Watson and an old bookseller, who turned out to be Holmes himself.

Beth interrupted again. “How clever of Holmes, to pretend to be an old bookseller. He was a master of disguises and did that often, didn’t he, even fooling Watson sometimes.” She paused. “Do go on. I’m anxious to know how Holmes escaped drowning in the waterfall and where he’d been those three years.”

Richard looked over at her instead of the book in his hands. “Why don’t I just tell you that part instead of reading it? Watson’s manner of relating things is always lengthy and involved. It will save time.”

“
Thank you. That’s a good idea.”

“
I’ll pour coffee or tea for us, shall I?”

“
That would be lovely. Tea for me, please.”

Richard put the book aside and rose to go to the serving table and pour tea for both of them from a silver pot on a tray.

“
In brief,” he said, “Holmes didn’t perish at the Falls for the simple reason that he never fell into them. After he wrote that letter to Watson predicting his possible death, he and Professor Moriarty struggled on the ledge above the Falls.”

“
Was Holmes the stronger of the two?”

“
Not necessarily. He says he has some knowledge of what he calls ‘buritsu, a Japanese form of wrestling,’ and due to that, he was able to subdue Moriarty, who lost his balance and fell off the cliff.”

“
I see, but, if Holmes was alive, why did he hide himself away for three years?”

“
According to the narration, he knew Moriarty had friends who would come after him, so he pretended to be dead.” Richard handed Beth her tea, then took his own cup and sat down again.

“
In order to throw everyone off the scent, Holmes didn’t retrace his steps on that ledge, but instead climbed up the steep face of the cliff to a higher ledge and waited there. After the searchers found the tracks that he and Moriarty had made, and saw no footprints leading away from the scene, they assumed both men had perished. When they left, Holmes climbed down from his perch and went on his way.” He grinned and sipped his tea.

“
An excellent plan,” Beth agreed. “But why keep up the pretense so long? Didn’t he miss Watson and their flat on Baker Street?”

“
Indeed he did, but he wanted to put an end to Moriarty’s friends’ criminal activity while they believed him dead and unable to catch them.”

“
So, having done that, I presume, Holmes was ready to reveal himself.”

“
Exactly.”

Beth sipped her tea. “And then he and Watson were able to solve the mystery of the empty house?”

“
Yes. I assume you haven’t read that story.”

“
It doesn’t sound familiar.”

Richard didn’t pick up the book to read more. He merely looked at Beth over the rim of his cup. Finally, he spoke.

“
Why do you like Sherlock Holmes stories?”

“
I suppose for the same reason everyone does. Because the man is such a talented detective. He finds clues that others miss.”