Duke of a Gilded Age (19 page)

Anyone not stricken with seasickness crowded the saloon for Sunday service, including the staff. Belle and her father had arrived early to find an alcove seat. Wesley and Lady Frederic arrived shortly thereafter. Although Wesley could not have failed to see Belle wave to him, he escorted his mother between the long tables and sat up front. The snub was so obvious, even Mr. Oakhurst noticed.

“You and Wesley haven’t quarreled, have you?” he asked.

“We’ve had a small misunderstanding,” Belle admitted. “But I mean to rectify matters as soon as may be.”

“See that you do, Annabelle,” he replied, aghast. “We owe most of our livelihood to him and can’t afford to give offense. Should he discharge me for any reason whatsoever, it will be a black mark on my record.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mr. Oakhurst’s tone was not sharp, but his words cut Belle to the quick. For her to be the means of injuring her father was intolerable. She resolved to put Stephen Van Eyck in his place and make amends to Wesley. However much she admired Wesley, or enjoyed his company, their relationship was fraught with peril. For her, the Duke of Mansbury must be merely a friendly acquaintance and no more.

“Monsieur Caron is exceedingly generous to permit you time away from teaching,” Mr. Oakhurst said.

“Er…yes, Papa.”

“I’m grateful you have steady employment with him. I know it isn’t fashionable for women to work, but should anything jeopardize your engagement with Sir Errol or my income, you’ll be able to support yourself.”

Belle was taken aback. “Nothing will jeopardize either, Papa. The misunderstanding with Wesley will pass, and when I return to Mansbury I’ll plan my wedding. I’ll be married before Christmas, come what may, so please let your mind be at ease.”

Carl, Eva, Stacy, Horatio, and Mrs. Stenger joined Belle and her father at their table. A few minutes later, Stephen and Louise arrived as well. Belle ignored Stephen’s impassioned glances as best she could.

“Mama is outside, snoring in her deck chair,” Louise whispered. “She had such a bad night, I thought it best not to disturb her.”

“She’s still a bit peaked, so I daresay the fresh air may do her good,” Belle replied.

Her conversation with Mrs. Van Eyck earlier had, unfortunately, resulted in a repetition of the fabrication regarding her grandfather.
I should have just confessed the truth
,
but if my friends discover I lied to them, they’ll shun me. Papa will notice, and ask me why…and then I’ll be completely undone. I’m cornered!

“Where’s Wesley?” Louise asked.

“Wesley and Lady Frederic are sitting at the front of the hall. It was crowded when my father and I arrived, so we were forced to sit back here,” Belle murmured.
It’s amazing how easily the lies fall from my lips these days…in church, no less! The more I practice at dissembling, the better I become.

No clergyman was aboard to deliver a homily, so the service was quite short. The pipe organ played the hymn
Eternal Father, Strong to Save.
Captain Howe said a few words, read Psalm 107, and led everyone in a recitation of the Lord’s Prayer. One of the ship’s engineers brought out his Scotsman’s bagpipes and finished the service with a touching rendition of
Amazing Grace
. Afterward, passengers scattered, bent on distracting themselves for a few hours until lunch. Some took to their deck chairs with a book, and still others enjoyed the walking track and the beautiful view. Despite it being Sunday, many gentlemen headed into the smoking room for drinks and a lively game of cards.

Belle’s attempt to speak with Wesley came to naught. She’d lingered at the saloon doorway, hoping to catch him on the way out. But either he eluded her in the crush or he’d escorted his mother out of the saloon by the back door. She debated with herself about calling on him in his cabin. Although it was improper for her to do so, she would have no rest until she’d smoothed over their quarrel.

Just as she set foot on the staircase leading to the promenade deck, Louise called out. “There you are, Annabelle! If you’re not otherwise engaged, Eva, Stacy, and I would love to learn whist.”

Belle allowed herself to be coaxed into the drawing room.
After all, I’ll see Wesley midday, at lunch. He can’t avoid me forever.

Chapter Thirteen

Missteps

W
ESLEY
W
AS
D
ETERMINED
T
O
O
CCUPY
the hours until lunch with Jules Verne. In other circumstances, he would have preferred to bring his book outside and relax in his deck chair. At the moment, however, he was in a dour mood and disinclined to chat with his neighbors about inconsequentialities.

Cavendish returned from his breakfast. His attire was as dapper as ever, and he was sporting a turned rosewood walking stick. Wesley glanced up from his book.

“That’s a handsome walking stick. I haven’t seen that one before.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. It has a rather clever feature.” Cavendish flipped open the rounded silver top to reveal a timepiece.

“Very nice, but the time is wrong,” Wesley observed.

“That depends on your perspective. It’s been set to Greenwich Mean Time ever since that was established in 1884.”

“Did you do that because you’re homesick?”

“Perhaps a trifle. I confess I’ll be happy to set foot upon my native soil once more.” He paused. “If you don’t require my services at present, I would like to take my exercise.”

“Please do. It’s a wonderful day for it.”

“Indeed it is.”

A knock sounded on the door, and Cavendish opened it to reveal Mr. Ley.

“Is the Duke of Mansbury available?”

“Mr. Ley!” Wesley put his book down and got to his feet. “Please come in.”

Mr. Ley stepped into the cabin, all the while peering at Cavendish. The valet, unperturbed by the scrutiny, bowed and left, closing the door behind him.

“That man is your valet?” Mr. Ley asked.

“Yes, he is. Is something wrong?”

“I can’t place him, but he seems familiar to me.” The gentlemen shook his head, as if to clear it. “Well, no matter. I wondered if I could impose upon you. You see, I need an opponent for shovelboard.”

“I’d be happy to oblige, but I’ve never played.”

“The rules are easy enough to learn. Come along, lad. The day is too fine to be cooped up inside, and we’ll by no means be assured of such good weather going forward.”

Wesley and Mr. Ley played shovelboard in the sunshine until noon, when Wesley invited Mr. Ley to join him and his mother for lunch. Due to the lovely weather and calm seas, his fellow passengers turned out for the midday meal in droves. Inwardly, Wesley congratulated himself on the way events were unfolding. He genuinely enjoyed Mr. Ley’s company, and the man’s presence provided him with a ready excuse to avoid Belle Oakhurst. And yet, even as he dined, Wesley could not stop his eyes from scanning the saloon in the hope of catching a glimpse of her. His heart gave a little leap when he saw Belle framed in the doorway along with Louise, Eva, and Stacy. His gaze immediately dropped to his bowl.

“Is the oxtail soup not to your taste?” Lady Frederic asked.

“Not at all. It’s quite delicious. Why do you ask?”

“You were frowning at it most severely just now.”

Wesley forced a chuckle to his lips. “I can’t think why.”

Belle and her friends sat at the end of a long table, next to a widows’ tour group from Ohio. Belle had noticed the group of five ladies walking on the promenade deck the day before. The wind had blown their black widows’ weeds about, giving the women the appearance of a flock of crows.

“It seems as if our principal activity onboard the ship is to while away the hours between meals,” Louise joked.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Eva said. “I’ve been learning loads, although I definitely need more practice at whist.”

“With five more days at sea, you’ll have the opportunity. I need more practice at dancing,” Stacy said. “I can’t wait for this afternoon. We’re to have a real accompanist and everything!”

“How about you, Annabelle? Have you learned anything new on this voyage?” Louise asked. “Perhaps we can teach you something American.”

“Have you ever been to a baseball game?” Belle asked.

The girls erupted into excitement, with an overlapping conversation about what they liked best about baseball.

“For me, it all comes down to the ball park food,” Louise said finally. “I love salted peanuts, roasted in the shell.”

“Horatio likes to collect baseball trade cards,” Stacy said. “He’s got a whole scrapbook full of them.”

Eva giggled. “Our dear brother harbors a secret desire to be a professional ball player, I’m absolutely certain.”

“But what are the rules of the game?” Belle asked.

The question set off another firestorm of responses. By the time her chicken pie entrée had arrived, Belle had a rudimentary grasp of the American sport.
Now when Wesley talks about baseball, I won’t feel so left out—if indeed he ever speaks to me again. I’ll make things right between us—I must!

At length, the conversation turned from baseball to bicycles. Eva was longing to buy one, but Stacy thought they were unladylike. Lost in her thoughts, Belle fell silent.

“What do you think, Annabelle?” asked Louise.

“Er…I’m sorry. What was the question?”

“Should women take up bicycling?” Eva asked.

“My fiancé disapproves of ladies with bicycles, but I see no harm in it,” Belle said. “In fact, I believe the exercise would be quite beneficial.”

“Ha!” Eva gave her sister a smug smile. “I told you so.”

The spirited debate that ensued took Belle’s mind off her troubles for a little while.

A few minutes before two o’clock, Wesley and Cavendish arrived at the steerage exercise area to make sure everything was in order for the dance club meeting. The space, about three hundred square feet, was accessible by a separate staircase from the saloon deck, and was shielded from the sun by canvas tarps strung overhead. The few chairs left on the deck had been pushed to one side, and an upright piano was angled in the corner. Cavendish sorted through the sheet music stored in the bench, chose a selection of songs, then sat down at the instrument and warmed up his fingers with a few scales.