Maiden Voyage Read online

  Breathe, she told herself. Just breathe. She breathed, and waited, and nobody came.

  When her heart stopped racing and settled into its regular pace, Isabella gave herself another talking to. All right, then, Isabella. You’ve made it. It is time to begin your search in earnest. She was still in an area of the boat reserved for second-class passengers, but on the topmost deck of the ship, and very close to the public first-class areas. That was good.

  Isabella reached a hand up to smooth her hair before crossing to the head of the Grand Staircase. Trying to walk like a well-bred young lady, she descended one flight to A deck and made her way to the breathtaking first-class lounge. The room was enormous and modeled after a palace in Versailles—a place Isabella had of course never seen, but she couldn’t imagine that it would be any finer than what lay before her. The room was a wonder. Carved English oak with motifs of musical instruments dominated the lounge, along with plush upholstered furniture. The ceiling was high and the room was large and open, but also had cozy alcoves with bay windows overlooking A deck and the blue sea. Just standing inside of it made Isabella feel like she should curtsy to someone … or perhaps everyone. She tried not to stare at the women in gorgeous dresses who sat in pairs or small groups, playing cards or relaxing on the velvet sofas with books. The women sat in the palatial room the way Isabella might sit on a park bench—hardly noticing their surroundings. She wondered what it would be like to feel comfortable in such opulence, to fit in. She certainly didn’t. She felt like a wart on the nose of a princess!

  However out of place she felt, it was not hard to imagine the Miles women blending in easily. She could imagine them reading or writing letters on creamy stationary. Are they here now? She wanted to believe it was possible, but something in her heart told her it wasn’t.

  That doesn’t mean they won’t be, she thought. Feeling a tiny spark of hope, Isabella strolled casually over to the small shelf of books provided for passengers and slipped one off the top shelf. She found a settee in one of the alcoves, partially hidden behind a tall fern, and seated herself. From this little spot she would be able to keep both an ear and an eye out, and wait …

  “Perhaps we can get away later tonight and look some more,” Abby said as she and Miss Lucy made their way back to the Mileses’ stateroom. They’d continued their search straight through luncheon after making sure Lady Elisabeth had, as suspected, retired to her room.

  Abby felt herself relax a bit now that this search session had come to an end. She had successfully escaped the horrid possibility of running into her little brother while hunting for the girl in the green coat! For now, at least. And though she would normally be concerned about having left her mistress for so long, the guise of the wireless message errand and the company of her young mistress assuaged her guilt considerably.

  “Yes, perhaps,” Miss Lucy agreed with a look that was both disappointed and determined. “But we must keep looking. I want to get down into third class …”

  Her young mistress was not to be deterred, and Abby half wondered if she could lock Felix in their cabin in advance of the proposed steerage search. She’d had no idea that Miss Lucy was so adventurous, or bold—significantly bolder than she would have given her credit for as recently as two days earlier.

  It’s because she’s always so worried about her mother, Abby thought. She is by her side almost constantly. Miss Lucy attended her mother much more than Abby did, and she was Elisabeth Miles’s maid! Abby was startled to realize that she actually felt a bit sorry for Miss Lucy … it couldn’t be easy to be so tied to an ailing mother. And it wasn’t as if Master Miles was a warm and loving father!

  “Thank you for telling me the truth about the coat, Abigail,” Miss Lucy said as they approached the Mileses’ stateroom, adding, “now let’s hope Mother turns in early so we can get out again.” Abby could have sworn there was a sparkle in her eye as she said it. It seemed she was actually enjoying this!

  “Of course, Miss,” Abby said as she twisted the handle and opened the door.

  “Mother?” Miss Lucy called softly as they entered. The lights were low and the curtains were drawn, but Abby could make out a motionless shape on the floor. Miss Lucy must have noticed it, too, and she called out again, this time her voice nearly a shriek.

  “Mother?” And then, “Abby, turn up the lights!” Elisabeth Miles was slumped on the carpet, her hair unpinned and loose. Miss Lucy shook her arms, trying to awaken her. “Mother?” she cried. “Mother!”

  Elisabeth Miles rolled over and groaned. “The tonic …” she mumbled. “Your father went to the doctor …”

  “Help me get her into bed,” Miss Lucy said, though Abby was already bending low and helping her mistress to her feet. Together the two girls got the listless woman to her bed and tucked her beneath the covers.

  “So tired …” she said, her head lolling. “My head …” A minute later Lady Miles was entirely asleep.

  “Do you think she’s all right?” Miss Lucy asked, then went on to answer, “Of course she’s not all right. Just look at her!”

  Abby could see Miss Lucy’s worry dissolving into anger, and the young girl turned abruptly and lunged toward the bottle on the drawing table. She uncorked it and sniffed. Then, her face twisted in frustration, she took a long drink.

  “What are you doing?” Abby cried in alarm.

  Miss Lucy dropped the bottle to her side. “I’ve long wondered what’s in these tonics,” she said, her voice cracking. “What the effects are of the ‘medicine’ Father forces Mother to take. It’s time I see for myself what it does.”

  Her face shifted again, as if she were smelling something foul. “Mother is right. It tastes terrible,” she said.

  Then, all at once, she spun around and hurled the entire bottle into the fireplace, shattering it. “Enough!”

  “Miss?” Abby asked a bit timidly.

  “Oh, Abigail, you don’t know. Mother used to be so different, so strong. You saw her yesterday—that was the first time in ages I’ve seen even a shadow of the way she used to be. She felt good enough to be outside most of the day and still had the energy to go to dinner!” Miss Lucy said, fighting back tears.

  Abby nodded. “She was in much better spirits than usual. And she did seem stronger,” she agreed.

  “Well, she told me yesterday she’d gone off the tonics. She hadn’t taken anything,” Miss Lucy confided.

  “You don’t think it’s the fresh sea air? Or being on a holiday?” Abby asked. That was what she’d attributed the change to.

  “No, she stopped drinking her tonics and was nearly her old self!” Though her voice sounded relaxed, there was an accusation behind Miss Lucy’s words—a frightening one. “Do you mind turning down my covers?” she went on, putting her fingers to her forehead. She suddenly sounded extremely tired. “I think I’ll turn in. We’ve had quite a day.”

  Abby didn’t bother to remind her that it was not yet three o’clock in the afternoon. Miss Lucy’s words were becoming slurred. Her eyelids drooped as she took a stumbling step toward her bedroom.

  If I didn’t know better I’d think she was drunk. Or drugged. The thought made Abby’s blood freeze for a moment and she shivered, mashing her lips together lest she say something terrible about Miss Lucy’s father.

  “Of course, Miss.” Abby took her arm and guided Miss Lucy to the painted brass bed. The poor girl swayed on her feet as Abby helped her out of her dress and shoes and into her nightclothes. For the second time in twenty minutes, Abby tucked a Miles woman into bed. Looking down at Miss Lucy’s now-peaceful face, she sighed.

  Our search for the girl in the coat is concluded for today, she thought, feeling relieved and disappointed at once. Abby cleaned up the glass and sticky tonic mess near the fireplace, careful not to leave a trace for Master Miles to find.

  “Good night, Miss Lucy. Good night, Mistress Elisabeth,” she whispered before leaving, certain that neither of them heard a word.

  One would think
that not having to share her pillow with a pair of twitching feet would have made Abby’s night immeasurably more restful. But although the built-in sofa she’d chosen to sleep on instead of sharing the bunk was comfortable, she’d nonetheless spent the entire night tossing and turning. She felt like a tiny dinghy being bandied about by storm waves of worry, washed this way and that with each new surge of fear or concern.

  There was the coat to worry about for one—that still needed to be found, and though she had Miss Lucy’s assurances she would not tell her parents, as long as the coat and girl were at large there was the chance that Master or Mistress Miles might see it on the mysterious girl for themselves.

  Then there was the worry about the Miles women and the strange medicine Master Miles was forcing upon his wife. Abby wanted to believe that the man was earnest in his attempts to help his wife get well, but seeing Mistress Miles on the floor and then the effect the tonic had on Miss Lucy … well, it was clear as day that he was drugging her on purpose. Why?

  And then there was her brother. She felt certain Felix was going to be discovered on board at any moment, which would certainly lead to a severe punishment.

  But even bigger than these worries was her worry about Felix’s future in America, because he depended upon her, and she could depend on, well, nothing.

  After fretting away the entire night, it was almost a relief to have to get up and prepare for another day of work. Yawning, she switched on the small lamp and rubbed her eyes. She put on her uniform as quietly as she could and gathered a small parcel containing an everyday shawl and some hairpins for Lucy, in case they had a chance to go looking for the girl in the coat. Constance’s snores did not skip a beat and made Abby smile a little as she brushed and pinned her hair.

  Before stepping out into the corridor, Abby pushed a corner of the curtain aside and stood on tiptoe to peek in on her little brother. Felix was also sleeping soundly, his lashes dark against his pale face.

  He’s probably dreaming of seeing the turbines, Abby thought, instantly feeling both amused and frightened. He really was entirely too curious for his own good … and for hers! She considered waking him so she could give him a long list of rules to follow before she started her day. Then she had another idea, and let the boy sleep on.

  Noiselessly, Abby snuck out of the cabin and eased the door closed.

  She had the most efficient route to the Mileses’ stateroom memorized now, and aside from a few other servants and stewards the ship’s corridors were empty. She stopped outside her employers’ door, worried about what she would find given the way she’d left things the day before, and paused to listen.

  “I was hoping to run into you!” A now-familiar voice made Abby jump. She whirled, surprised by how pleased she felt to see Jasper’s face. His eyes were as warm as ever and she found herself smiling at them, but then when she opened her mouth to speak she faltered. When had it become so difficult to utter words?

  “I was hoping to run into you, too,” she finally said. Realizing where they were, she led Jasper down the corridor and around a corner. She did not want Master Miles to see her talking to the steward. When they were a safe distance away, she stopped.

  “I wanted to ask—”

  “I hoped I could—”

  They both began to speak at once. Abby stopped and mashed her lips together.

  Jasper stopped, too, chuckling. “You first,” he said gently.

  Abby struggled to untie her tongue again. “I, um, wanted to ask you, officially, if you could help keep an eye on Felix.”

  “Ha! That’s rather funny, because he asked me to do the same for you,” Jasper replied.

  “He what?” Abby raised an eyebrow. “Since when does—”

  Jasper held up his hand and his crooked smile evened out into a grin. “Let me explain. We were talking yesterday, as blokes do, and Felix said you wouldn’t be returning to England on the Titanic. He said you are planning to stay in New York.”

  Abby sucked in her breath. This wasn’t information to be shared with anyone! “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” she said, forcing a laugh and trying to make light of the idea. “He’s just a boy with a big imagination …”

  Jasper put his hand on Abby’s shoulder and looked her full in the face.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, his smile completely gone. His face was kind, but serious. “I haven’t told any of your secrets, have I? And I have one of my own to share. I’m going to stay on in New York, too.” His smile started, the way it always did, on one side of his mouth … and grew. “I don’t know a soul in America, but since my mum passed over I’ve got no reason to go back to London. Perhaps you and I can, you know, look out for each other.”

  Abby’s heart fluttered at the thought of knowing another soul in the city where she planned to make a new life. And not just any soul. Jasper.

  Lucy woke up feeling cloudy. What had happened? She shook her head to clear it, trying to recall … the search for the girl in the coat … the library … her mother … the tonic! Just the few swallows she’d taken of her mother’s “medicine” had sent her straight to bed. How on earth did her mother feel taking multiple doses a day? It was no wonder she was so weak and tired and forgetful!

  Lucy fought to control the anger sparking inside her, but did not for an instant regret breaking the bottle and spilling every drop inside. She made her way out to the sitting room and saw the spotless hearth. She was immediately grateful to Abigail for cleaning up the pieces—she was not ready to confront her father. She didn’t even want to see him … not yet. Fortunately her father seemed none too anxious to spend time with his family, either. He’d already risen and departed without stating his plans.

  Lucy’s stomach churned and she paced back and forth in the Georgian sitting room, at odds with what to think or do next. She felt caged and queasy, either from the traces of the tonic or the realization that her father was forcing her mother to take something that debilitated her … or possibly both.

  Does the doctor know what he’s up to? she asked herself as she went to check on her mother. Elisabeth had woken briefly but was once again sleeping heavily, and Lucy wondered how much of the tonic she had ingested. She had no idea about either, but Lucy knew she needed to do a bit of digging to learn some things for herself.

  Nervous but determined, she took a deep breath and locked the door to their stateroom, then went into her father’s bedroom and began to search through his things. She found nothing in his writing desk or his wardrobe. His small leather address book held a myriad of names she had never heard before, but no other notes that seemed suspicious or particularly intriguing. She was about to give up when she decided to check his attaché case one more time. Buried at the bottom under a bundle of papers she found a small corked bottle with a label that read, “Laudanum.” Even through the amber-colored glass she could tell it was empty, but the cork was in place and it was marked with the word poison around the small neck. Her heart pounding, she carried it into her room and hid it in the pocket of her blue coat in the wardrobe. She knew that laudanum was a strong drug that was used for pain, and also that it was highly addictive. What was her father doing with his own bottle?

  I’ll show it to Mother, Lucy thought. She hoped her mother would have a justification, that she would know why her husband had an empty bottle of poison. And she was frightened that she already knew the answer.

  Unfortunately, when her mother finally awoke it was immediately clear that she was not alert enough to explain anything. She was tired and groggy, and it took the coaxing of both Abigail and Lucy just to get her out of bed and into a dressing gown. She did not touch her breakfast tray, which by then had grown cold.

  To make matters worse, Abigail was not herself, either. She kept glancing at the door, and Lucy had to say everything twice because the distracted girl didn’t appear to be listening.

  Lucy sighed, feeling both exasperated and trapped. She tried to read, to sketch, to think. Nothing soothed
her. Finally she decided she’d had enough. She wanted to get out—she needed to.

  “Let’s go find that coat,” she whispered to Abigail, grasping her arm. Abigail bit her lips together nervously and looked back at her with wide eyes, hesitating. “I’ll go on my own if I have to,” Lucy said, realizing as she said it that she was truly bold enough to go on her own—and that even if it was just to distract herself from the questions she had about her father, finding the girl had become strangely important.

  “I’ll come, Miss,” Abigail whispered, her hesitation gone.

  With her mother dozing, Lucy let Abigail help her get ready for a trip to steerage. The maid deftly removed the jeweled combs from Lucy’s hair and turned her sophisticated coils into a more practical, pulled-back style, securing it with plain pins she pulled from her apron. Next Abigail looked over Lucy’s outfit, squinting slightly. Lucy looked down. The gown she wore was nothing special. In fact, Lucy thought it a little out of date. But it did not meet with Abigail’s approval and she tiptoed into the bedroom and emerged with a plain, cream-colored dress with an empire waist.

  “Lucky I brought this shawl,” Abigail said softly when Lucy had the dress on. “It will help hide your dress. We can’t have your London style giving us away.”

  Abigail gave a final once-over and nodded her chin sharply before heading for the door. Lucy hurried to keep pace with the maid until they had made it into steerage, where Abigail draped the worn brown shawl around her shoulders and began to move more slowly.

  Lucy tried to copy the easygoing posture and air of the third-class passengers as she traipsed behind Abigail. By the time they made it to the stern of the ship and entered the general room on C deck, they weren’t catching so much as a sideways glance.

  The large, pleasant room had a paneled ceiling and rows of wooden benches. Though it certainly wasn’t as finely outfitted as first class, it was nicer than Lucy might have expected, and like everything on the Titanic, it was brand-new.