The Mandie Collection (59 page)

Senator Morton spoke first. “There's going to be an old-fashioned gospel singing in the music room in a few minutes. Would you young ladies like to join us?”

“Oh yes, thank you.” Mandie was relieved. “We'd love to go, wouldn't we, Celia?”

Celia looked puzzled but nodded.

The gospel singing turned out to be one of the most interesting events the girls had attended on the ship. Mandie loved to sing. She'd always said the best part of church was to lift your voice in praise to your Maker.

Mrs. Taft leaned forward and whispered to the girls, “This reminds me of the Quaker meetings I attended when I was young. Only we sang anything we wanted to—everyone all at once! It's all so invigorating and inspiring!”

“I love it, too,” Mandie agreed.

“I didn't do too well,” Celia said when they'd finished. “I kept hearing the words from the other side.” She laughed and they all laughed with her.

No further mention was made of the food, and after the gospel singing Mandie felt the tension had been broken. But as her grandmother said good night in the hall, Mandie asked if she could talk to her alone. “I just want to ask you a question,” she said. Celia went on to their room.

“Of course, dear,” Mrs. Taft replied as the senator bade them good night. “Come on in.”

Inside, Mandie didn't sit down, but got right to the point. “Grandmother, who is the woman who told you about the picnic basket?” she asked.

Mrs. Taft looked puzzled. “I don't know who told me about it. I found a note stuck in my door. Here, I'll show it to you,” she said. Walking over to the dressing table, she opened the drawer, took out a small piece of paper, and handed it to Mandie.

Mandie scanned the note quickly.

It read:

Mrs. Taft,

I'm sure you will want to know that your granddaughter and her friend spilled a whole basket of food all over the deck today. Very unladylike, don't you agree?

A concerned friend.

Mandie took a deep breath and handed the paper back to her grandmother.

Mrs. Taft placed it back in the drawer. “That's all I know, dear,” she said.

Mandie sighed. “I know it must have been that strange woman who follows Celia and me around all the time,” she said in exasperation. “We see her on the deck and in the halls, but we have never seen her in the dining room or at any of the events we've attended.”

Mrs. Taft's brow wrinkled in concern. “A strange woman follows you around?” she said in disbelief. “Why, Amanda? What does she look like? Do I know her?”

“I don't know. She has a cabin right down this corridor somewhere,” Mandie tried to explain. “I'm not sure exactly which one, but one night we saw her enter one of them. We were too far away to tell which.”

“What does she look like?” Mrs. Taft asked.

“She's not very tall,” Mandie replied. “Stoop-shouldered and thin. She has gray hair and black eyes and a real sharp chin. Her clothes look expensive, but she always wears black. And, oh, she has some flashy diamonds on her fingers, and she usually wears a huge brooch at her neck.”

Mrs. Taft listened carefully, still puzzled. “How old would you say she is?”

“A lot older than you, Grandmother,” Mandie said.

“Does she sound southern?”

“We've never even heard her speak, but to look at her, I'd say she's definitely not a southerner.”

“How can you tell without hearing her accent?”

“She doesn't
look
like anyone I've ever known,” Mandie explained.

“I'm sorry, dear, but I just don't know who this woman could be,” Mrs. Taft said. “Let's sleep on it and maybe in the morning my memory will be better.”

Mandie turned to go, then suddenly threw her arms around her grandmother. “Good night,” she said softly. “I love you. A whole lot.” Then she kissed her on the cheek.

Mrs. Taft held her granddaughter tightly. “I love you, too, Amanda. More than I could ever say. Even when you exasperate me, I still love you. You know that, don't you, dear?”

“Oh yes, Grandmother,” Mandie said. “I'm sorry I always seem to get into such strange predicaments.”

Grandmother gave her a kiss on the cheek and they said good night again.

When Mandie closed the connecting door, she saw that Celia was already in her bunk. As she readied herself for bed, she told her about the conversation with her grandmother. “Guess what, Celia?” she said. “That strange woman did not
tell
my grandmother about the food basket. She left a note in her door. At least, I assume the woman wrote it, but Grandmother doesn't think she knows her.”

Celia sat up in her bed. “That
is
strange,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

Dressed in her nightgown, Mandie stood in front of the mirror and began taking her hair down. “I've been thinking about that boy—Jonathan,” she said. “Why don't we get up early and go out there and confront him before anyone else is up?”

“All right,” Celia agreed.

“Maybe that strange woman won't be up yet either,” Mandie said. Turning off the light, she put Snowball up on the top bunk and climbed up herself. Snowball walked around stretching his legs, finally curling up at her feet.

The girls lay awake for some time discussing what they would say to Jonathan Lindall Guyer, the third, in the morning.

CHAPTER SEVEN

REWARD MONEY?

Mandie awoke as soon as the first rays of sun crept over the waters of the Atlantic Ocean. Climbing down from the upper bunk, Snowball tumbled behind her and fell onto Celia's bunk.

Celia gasped with fright, and Snowball leaped to the floor.

“Sh-h-h!” Mandie whispered to Celia. “It was just the cat! We don't want to wake Grandmother.”

“You're right,” Celia whispered back.

The girls dressed quickly, and Mandie eased the door open to see if anyone was in the passageway. “Come on,” she said softly, “It's clear. Be sure Snowball doesn't get out.”

Celia followed her into the hallway, giving Snowball a nudge, and closing the door behind her.

Once on the deck, they found a crewman working on something near the door, but the girls ignored him and went on their way.

Jonathan did not step out as they approached his lifeboat, like he usually did.

“He's probably still asleep,” Mandie told Celia. She softly called, “Hey, are you in the boat?”

The boy threw back the tarpaulin in one stroke and rubbed his eyes. Yawning, he climbed out, and jumped down in front of them.

Mandie began to feel her anger rise. She hardly knew where to begin, so she said his name. “Jonathan Lindall Guyer, the third! You must think we are a couple of pretty simple girls to have fallen for your act—pretending you didn't understand English.”

The boy's face turned red. “I am truly sorry,” he said. “I—I was afraid when you found me. I couldn't think what to say, so it seemed the easiest to just pretend not to understand what you were saying.” He shrugged sheepishly. “I am very fluent in French, so I just spoke it instead. How did you ever find out who I am?”

Mandie reached inside her cloak and pulled out the newspaper with his picture in it.

Jonathan's mouth dropped open. He tried to grab the paper, but Mandie didn't trust him. She secured it firmly, afraid he would destroy it or refuse to give it back.

“You can't have this paper, because it doesn't even belong to me,” she told him. He silently read the article while she held the paper.

When he looked up he asked, “Where did you get this newspaper?”

“The owner of the newspaper firm brought it on board before we left Charleston,” Celia told him.

Mandie quickly folded the paper and set her gaze on the boy. “Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”

Jonathan shifted from one foot to the other. “I really don't know what to say,” he answered. “If I told you the truth, you would never believe me.”

Mandie frowned. “
Try
us!”

Jonathan walked in a circle, rubbing his chin. Then he looked straight at the girls. “All right, believe it or not, I am trying to get to Paris,” he began. “I have an aunt and uncle there who are newspaper people, and I want to live with them.”

“Why didn't you just tell your father that?” Mandie asked. “He must be worried to death, thinking you've been kidnapped.”

“I didn't tell him for the simple reason that he would not have allowed me to go.” Jonathan swallowed hard. “He keeps sending me off to expensive private boarding schools, and I'm tired of it. I want to live like a normal boy and have normal, everyday friends.”

He shifted his weight again. “The boys at school are snobs. All they think about is who has the richest father, and who spends the
most money on clothes. None of them will have to work for a living, so they don't even try to learn anything. School's a joke for them,” he said solemnly.

“Why couldn't you stay at home and go to a school near where you live?” Celia asked.

“Because my father is hardly ever at home,” Jonathan explained with a sigh. “He goes all over the world on business, and he thinks if he sticks me in these private schools he won't have to worry about me.”

“What about your mother?” Mandie asked.

Jonathan's face clouded. “I don't have a mother,” he said. “She died when I was a baby. Didn't you read that in the paper?”

“Yes. I'm sorry, I forgot,” Mandie apologized. “And I'm sorry your mother died. But Jonathan, you're all your father has, and you ought to think about how he must feel, not knowing whether or not he'll ever see you again. I know from sad experience that it doesn't pay to run away from home. I've done that myself. Why wouldn't your father let you visit your aunt and uncle?”

“I just know he wouldn't,” Jonathan said firmly. “My aunt and uncle both work, and I'd be home alone when I'm not in school, except for the housekeeper. My aunt is my mother's sister, and I have never even met her and her husband. But she has always written to me saying that they would like to have me come and visit them. So that's why I am going to Paris.”

“I wouldn't be too sure about that,” Mandie told him. “My grandmother knows about the extra food we have been getting for you. She doesn't know what we have been doing with it, but she knows we had it out here on the deck. We won't be able to bring you any more. And I think we have to tell the captain about you.”

“Oh no, please—please,” Jonathan begged. “Don't tell the captain I'm here. He would lock me up somewhere on ship and put me off at the next port. From there, the police would take charge. Please don't put me through that.”

“But it would be for your own good,” Mandie said. “The police would send you back to your father, and he would be relieved to have you home, I'm sure.”

“He must love you,” Celia reminded him. “Look at the big reward he's offering.”

Jonathan had an idea. “I'll tell you what! If you girls keep quiet, I'll see that you get that reward,” he promised. “And when I get to Paris, I'll have my aunt let my father know where I am. Please?”

“But we don't even need the money,” Mandie protested.

Jonathan's eyes widened. “You mean you would refuse all that cash? Just think what you could do with it.”

“Money isn't everything, you know, Jonathan,” Mandie replied. “You're just like the other boys at your school. Money, money, money—that's all some people think about.” She shook her head. “Celia and I have already deceived my grandmother about the reason for the extra food, and I don't want to add any more problems.”

“But you don't have to
do
anything,” Jonathan assured her. “What I want is for you to do nothing. Just pretend you never saw me. Will you?”

“How are you going to get anything to eat if we don't bring it?” Mandie asked.

“Look here, Miss—What is your name, anyway?” Jonathan asked.

“Amanda Elizabeth Shaw, Mandie for short, and I'm from Franklin, North Carolina,” Mandie introduced herself. “And this is my friend, Celia Hamilton, from Richmond, Virginia. We're traveling with my grandmother, Mrs. Norman Taft.”

The boy's dark eyes grew wide in shock. “Mrs. Norman Taft?” he repeated.

Mandie frowned. “Yes, why? Do you know her?”

A curious look came over Jonathan's face. He cleared his throat, then hesitated a moment as though carefully considering his reply. “Mrs. Norman Taft is your grandmother?”

“I said yes,” Mandie answered impatiently. “And I asked if you know her.”

“No, I don't
know
her,” Jonathan replied. “But I know who she is. Are you aware that Mrs. Norman Taft owns the ship we're sailing on?”

Mandie and Celia stared at each other a moment in silence.

“
My
grandmother owns this ship?” Mandie repeated slowly, incredulously.

“You must be mistaken,” Celia added.

“I'm sorry, but I'm not mistaken,” he insisted. “My father tried to buy the ship line from her this past winter, and she wouldn't sell. The company is British based, but she owns it—lock, stock, and barrel.”

“Ship
line
? I thought you said she owned this ship.” Mandie was confused.

“She owns the ship and the whole shipping company,” Jonathan explained.

Mandie looked at Celia. Celia shrugged. “Well, you know your grandfather was very wealthy, Mandie. And I suppose he left everything to your grandmother.”

“But why wouldn't she tell me she owned the ship?”

“You explained before,” Jonathan volunteered. “Money isn't everything. She probably wants to be treated like everybody else.”

“Just wait till I see my grandmother!”

“Calm down, Mandie!” Celia fussed. “We can't let her know that we know. She would want to know how we found out!”