Titanic Affair (17 page)

They fell silent. Outside the window, the
Atlantic
rolled majestically past.

At last he spoke.

‘Some of the rest I know,’ he said. ‘but I don’t know how Barker found you.’

‘He saw me boarding the ship. He and Mr Montmerency had found me at my new lodgings, and I escaped just in time. They followed me from the house, looking for me. I thought I’d escaped them but Barker caught sight of me as I walked up the gangplank. He killed one of the steerage passengers for his ticket and followed me aboard. He could do nothing to begin with, because I was in first class accommodation and he was in third, but when I explored the ship and lost my way, I unwittingly played into his hands.’

‘And that’s why you missed your port?’

‘Yes. He saw me. I ran, but he followed me. I lost my way in the maze of corridors. I finally managed to get on to the deck, but he was there already. I ran again, but found myself up against the railings. When he advanced on me I slipped past him and ran into you.’ She raised her face and looked him in the eyes. ‘If you had not been there . . . ’

‘But I was.’

He took her hands in his own, and there was a moment of deep connection between them.

She felt herself relax. She knew she could trust him.

‘I don’t know what to do,’ she said.

He pressed her hands.

‘Leave it to me. I’ll have my man keep an eye on him and make sure he remains in steerage for the rest of the voyage. And I will personally escort you from the ship.’

She felt a huge sense of relief, and was glad she had told him.

He lifted his hand, and for a moment she thought he was going to run the back of it across her cheek. But then he dropped it again, making her both relieved and strangely disappointed.

‘But I’m concerned about what might happen to you in
New York
. It’s possible Barker has telegraphed to Silas Montmerency, to let him know you will be there. And even if he hasn’t, Barker himself is likely to pursue you. This friend of yours, the one you are meeting - will he be able to protect you?’

She hesitated. Charlie was a dear, but able to protect her? No.

‘Because if he can’t, I can.’

She knew that what he said was true. He was a strong man, and a determined one. He would be able to protect her from any danger that threatened her.

‘That is very kind, but . . . ’

‘Would you consider staying with my mother and myself in
New York
, instead of your friend, until you can book a passage to
Ireland
? That way I could be sure you’d be safe.’

She was touched by his concern.

‘That’s very kind of you, but I don’t think it would be proper.’

‘With my mother there, it couldn’t be anything else. I don’t want to press you, but will you at least think about it?’

‘Yes. Thank you. I will.’

A warm smile lit his eyes. It seemed as though he wanted her to stay.

But then, he was just being kind, she reminded herself. She had helped his mother, and in return he was helping her.

‘Emilia . . . ’ he said, reaching out and clasping her hand.

The door opened, and the Countess of Rothes entered the room with her companion.

‘Thank you,’ said Emilia formally, hastily reclaiming her hand. ‘You have been most kind.’

With the Countess there, he could say nothing to detain her, and she left the room. Her feelings were in turmoil. She longed to accept his offer, but she could not disguise form herself the fact that it had less to do with a desire to be safe than a desire to be with Carl. He drew her in a way no man had ever drawn her before. And yet she must not allow herself to indulge in such thoughts. His offer had sprung out of a concern for her safety and she would be foolish if she allowed herself to imagine it had been anything else.

Dangerous though it would be to stay in
New York
with Barker and Silas Montmerency looking for her, she had the unsettling feeling it would be far more dangerous to stay with Carl Latimer.

Carl remained in the reading room only long enough to engage in a little polite conversation with the Countess of Rothes before he made his way down to second-class to speak to Hutton. He knocked on the door of Hutton’s room and was quickly admitted.

‘There’s something I want you to do,’ he said, as Hutton hastily put on his coat. ‘There’s a man in steerage who goes by the name of Barker. I want him watched. On no account are you to let him pass through into first-class accommodation.’

‘What do you want me to do if he tries it?’ asked Hutton. ‘Do you want me to come and tell you, or do you want me to stop him?’

‘I want you to stop him. Use an excuse if you can, but if needs be use force.’

Hutton nodded.

‘And Hutton, under no circumstances allow him to go near the telegraph office.’

‘Very good, sir. How long am I to keep him under surveillance?’

‘Until we leave the ship at
New York
. Possibly beyond. I’ll let you know that at the time.’

‘Very good, sir, I’ll get right on it.’

‘Good man.’

Carl left the stateroom, and made his way to the telegraph office, intending to find out if Barker had sent a telegraph to Silas Montmerency, revealing that Emilia was aboard the ship. If that was the case, Carl needed to know about it, so that he could take additional steps to protect her in
New York
. The telegraph office was busy, but at last he was able to find that no telegrams had been sent. Barker wanted to be sure of her first, Carl guessed. It was no use saying he had her, and then leaving Mr Montmerency to rave at him if he lost her. It was a relief, because protecting Emilia would have been a lot more difficult in
New York
, particularly if she had refused to stay with him.

He found his thoughts going to the man she intended to stay with. Who was he, this man? A childhood friend, she had said, but childhood friends could, on occasion, turn into something more.

At the thought of it he felt the stirrings of an uncomfortable emotion, and he realized it was jealousy. The strength of his feelings took him by surprise. He had never felt jealous of any man before, but couldn’t hide from himself that fact that he was jealous of Charles. It was Charles who would have the pleasure of Emilia’s company in
New York
; Charles who would have an opportunity to show her round the splendid city and take her to see the sights.

He gritted his teeth as he thought of it.

One way or another, Emilia Cavendish seemed to have been created to destroy his peace of mind.

The weather became colder overnight. When Emilia ventured out on deck on Sunday morning she was glad of her warm coat, her gloves and her hat, because where the air touched her face it had a raw feel. It was not to be wondered at. They were now in the fifth day of their voyage, and they were reaching chillier climes.

She walked briskly along the deck to stimulate her circulation, wishing her fellow passengers a ‘Good morning’. The gentlemen tipped their hats and the ladies returned her greeting, commenting on the change in the weather.

At the end of the deck she saw a seaman leaning over the railing with a rope in his hands. Curious as to what he could be doing she went over to the side of the deck to watch him. As she drew closer she saw that he was lowering a pail over the side of the ship, letting out the coil of rope as the pail descended towards the water.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked him curiously.

He turned towards her briefly.

‘Taking the water temperature, miss,’ he said, before turning back to his task.

‘Will the pail reach?’ she asked, looking down at the sea and trying to gauge the length of the rope attached to it. It seemed a long way to the water.

‘Not with this breeze it won’t,’ he said gruffly, as the pail banged against the side of the ship. ‘Not even with the pail being weighted.’

‘It’s a long way down to the surface,’ she said, as she leaned over the rail to get a better look.

‘That it is. It’s seventy five feet, miss.’

It looked all of that. The waves were dwarfed by the ship, and, being so far below, looked like little more than ripples on a mill pond. The seaman began to reel in the pail, coiling the rope in his hand as he did so. Then, taking hold of the pail, he went over to a stand pipe and filled it with water before putting a thermometer into it and taking the temperature.

‘Is it very cold?’ asked Emilia.

‘Colder than usual,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t wonder if we don’t come across ice later today.’

Ice was a feature of ocean voyages, or so, at least, Pansy had said, and Emilia found herself wondering if she would see any ice floes. She rather hoped she would. She was enjoying her journey, and she reflected that she would have a lot to tell her godmother when she finally arrived in
Ireland
.

She resumed her walk along the deck. It was busy, as usual, with people playing quoits or taking the air. There were fewer people sitting today, she noticed. Even out of the wind it was cold. However, she enjoyed being outside. It might be cold, but the wind brought a glow to her cheeks, and she found the sea air invigorating.

After a while she began to notice the other passengers leaving the deck and glanced at her watch.  It was almost time for divine service.

She followed them inside. There were a number of people heading towards the first-class dining-room, where the divine service was to be held. She chose a seat close to the piano, then slipped off her coat and hung it over the back of her chair before looking about her.

To her relief, Carl was not there. It was becoming increasingly difficult for her to meet him with equanimity, and she was glad she did not have anything further to try her self control.

After a few minutes Captain Smith entered the room.

Emilia had often seen the Captain walking about the ship, and had wished him a ‘Good morning’ or a ‘Good afternoon’ on several occasions, but this was her first opportunity to spend any great length of time in his presence. As he walked down the room, she thought how well he looked. His white hair, white moustache and full beard gave him an air of solidity. His uniform was smart and commanded respect. With its peaked cap, well-cut coat, brass buttons and polished shoes it fit in with everything else on the
Titanic
, looking fresh and attractive. On his sleeve were four gold stripes denoting his rank.

He greeted the passengers affably, wishing individuals a ‘Good morning’ before he took his place at the front of the congregation.

Just before the service began, Pansy slipped into the room and sat down next to Emilia with Robert beside her.

‘Good morning, did you sleep well?’ she asked.

‘Yes, very well,’ said Emilia.

‘So did I. I slept like a top. It’s the sea air. It always puts me out like a light.’

Emilia exchanged greetings with Robert, who had settled himself down next to Pansy, and who then took up his hymn book and idly turned the pages, as he waited for the service to begin.