Queen of the Waves Read online

  “What sort of scandal?”

  His mother quirked a brow. “They say she’s dishonored the name of her late husband by engaging in a relationship with another man, but she’s withstood the pressure quite well. I’m not sure I could handle such a public outcry over my behavior.” She reached across the bed for her hat—a multifeathered number in a deep shade of purple—and placed it into a hatbox. Then she handed that off to Greta, who couldn’t seem to figure out what to do with it.

  Nathan chuckled. “Mother, the moment you start behaving scandalously, I will go to the papers myself.”

  She paled at his joke and fanned herself with her hand. “Don’t tease like that. I’m simply trying to say that the woman won her latest Nobel Prize in the midst of this scandal. She’s managed to hold her head high in spite of what others are saying behind her back. I find that to be an admirable trait. Don’t you?”

  “I suppose.” He shrugged. “But to answer your question, I haven’t read the article on Madame Curie,” he said. “I spent the morning reading—”

  “Oh, you must have seen the piece on the Titanic. She’s being fitted out as we speak and will soon face her sea trials. Can you believe we’ll be boarding her in less than two weeks?” His mother’s nose wrinkled. “Not that I’m in a hurry to get back to New York, mind you. But I am looking forward to the luxurious accommodations.” She lit into a lengthy dissertation about the ship, focusing on the fine amenities. “And look at this…” She pressed a newspaper into his hands, and he fought to translate the French advertisement but could not.

  “What is it, Mother?”

  “Soap. Vinolia soap, to be precise. Offering a higher standard of luxury and comfort at sea.” She laughed and put the paper down. “As if a bar of soap could make me feel luxurious.”

  “Begging your pardon, ma’am,” Greta interjected, “but if the soap doesn’t make you feel like a queen, the other niceties onboard the ship will. I hear they’ve got everything a soul could ever want and more.”

  “Yes, Greta.” His mother’s expression soured. “I’m well aware of the fact that the Titanic is the finest ocean liner sailing the seas today. That’s why we’re taking her back to New York.”

  Nathan paced the room, his thoughts returning to the novel. “Well, speaking of ships, I find myself a bit unnerved at the proposition of traveling the high seas now.”

  “Unnerved?” His mother gave him an inquisitive look then nodded at Greta, who attempted to close the trunk. “Why is that, son?”

  “The novel I’ve spent all morning reading. It’s called Futility.” He rose and helped Greta fasten the hinges on the oversized trunk.

  “Rather sobering title.” His mother rose and moved toward the vanity. She glanced at her reflection then fussed with her hair. “Don’t believe I’ve heard of it.”

  “It’s a novel about a British passenger liner called the Titan, written nearly fifteen years ago by an American author named Robertson. Don’t you find that strange?” Nathan hefted the trunk off the bed and placed it onto the floor.

  “Strange that an American would write a book about a British ship, you mean?” Mother gave her reflection another look then turned his way. “Nothing too unusual about that.”

  “No, strange that he would name the ship the Titan, when we’ll be sailing on the Titanic in a couple of weeks. The ship in the novel sailed in April, just like ours will. Can’t help but wonder about the similarities.” His thoughts continued to reel as he eased the trunk to a better location near the door.

  “Well, don’t give away the ending of the book,” his mother said with the wave of a hand. “I hate it when someone spoils the ending of a good story for me. Maybe I’ll read it while we’re at sea. If you think it’s something I might enjoy, I mean. You do seem to know my preferences better than most, even my own husband.” She offered up a dramatic sigh. “Your father never notices any of my likes or dislikes.”

  Not for lack of trying on his part.

  “I somehow doubt you would enjoy the book, Mother. As I said, it’s rather disconcerting.”

  “Not that I will have much time to read onboard, anyway.” She shrugged. “Likely I’ll be too busy socializing. You know that many of our neighbors and acquaintances will be traveling alongside us, don’t you? Why, people of every status and station will board, and we’ll be in the thick of them.”

  “True. Though I haven’t thought about what I will do aboard the ship, other than fill my belly with good food.” He rubbed his stomach and chuckled. “As if this trip to Europe hasn’t put ten pounds on me already.”

  “You hide it well,” she said. “On the other hand, Greta will have to tighten my corset or I will never fit in my dresses.” She paused. “The meals will be fabulous, I’m sure, but the company even more so.”

  “Aren’t you looking forward to getting back home to Father?” Nathan rose and walked in his mother’s direction.

  Her thinly plucked eyebrows quirked. “Well, I might have preferred more time in Paris. I do wish we could spend more time shopping before the boat sails. I had hoped to replace most of my old gowns while I was here. I’ve grown weary with wearing the same dresses to every social function. It would have been nice to purchase new things.”

  “The dress you wore to the theater last night was new.”

  “Well, yes, but it was one of the few purchases I’ve had time to make. Everything seems so rushed.” She sighed. “I don’t suppose I’ll ever see Helena Rubinstein’s salon. I had every intention of visiting it while in Paris.”

  As she carried on, he bit back the need to ask, How will you manage without a day at the salon?

  “It’s just so sad that we have to leave for London already.” Her lips curled downward in a pout. “Your father knew that I wanted to spend two more weeks on this leg of the journey, but you know how he is.”

  Yes, Nathan knew how his father was, of course. Kindhearted. Loving. And far too sympathetic to Mother’s spoiled nature and off-the-cuff comments.

  “The man is pushing us off to London, likely under the mistaken impression that I will do less damage to his pocketbook there.” She giggled. “Sometimes I wonder if he knows me at all.”

  Point well taken.

  “I’ve missed Father,” Nathan said. “And as much as I’m looking forward to boarding the Titanic, I must say I’m even more excited about going home again. It will be nice to settle into my new job at the insurance company.”

  His mother eased her way into a nearby chair and rolled her eyes. “Yes, that’s all we need, the son and the husband both married to the business. And little old me, fiddling around for things to occupy my time because no one takes an interest in me.”

  Nathan fought the temptation to roll his eyes. As if anyone could ignore his mother when she so easily pressed herself upon all.

  Mother waved her hand in his direction. “Well, go on with you, then, and join your father’s firm. See if I care. I should have had a daughter. A daughter wouldn’t have deserted me.”

  “Perhaps one day you will have a daughter-in-law. She can shop with you and throw fine parties. How would that be?”

  “Hardly a good substitute for the son I would prefer to spend time with, but I suppose it will have to do. Have you someone in mind that I’ve not heard of? Has Bridgette Cannady finally convinced you to court her, perhaps?”

  “Bridgette?” He laughed. “Hardly. She’s the last girl I would consider marrying.”

  “Good.” His mother turned to give him a stern look. “Just promise me one thing, son. Don’t let anyone convince you to marry someone who doesn’t truly deserve you. I don’t think I could bear that.”

  Deserve me? “Mother, should I marry, my bride will be God’s perfect choice for me. My complement and my equal.”

  “Then you will be among the rarer set, for few find such a thing in reality. In novels like the one you’re reading, perhaps, but not in real life.”

  “Are you saying there’s no such thing as true
love?”

  Her elongated pause gave him reason to wonder. Still, as the conversation shifted back to their upcoming trip, he breathed a sigh of relief. Before long he would be on the ship, sailing for home. His European adventures would be behind him once and for all, and he could get on with life as usual.

  Saturday, March 30, 1912

  Gloucestershire County, England

  Tessa looked up from her labors as a shiny Mercedes limousine pulled into the lane in front of her family’s meager cottage. Her heart raced to her throat. Why had such an impressive automobile found its way to their humble abode? Had someone died, perhaps? Her anxieties did not lessen as a liveried chauffeur stepped out. Tessa shuddered then dropped the rake and started toward the lane, scarcely able to breathe.

  The chauffeur opened the rear passenger door and a beautiful young lady dressed in brilliant blue appeared. Even from a distance the girl reeked of money. That much one could observe from her stance, her coiffed hair, and the tailored gown. But why had she come? Perhaps her automobile had broken down.

  Only when Tessa’s older brother climbed out of the limousine did Tessa pause to catch her breath. “Peter!” She let out a squeal and ran across the yard toward the lane, her tangled hair flying in the breeze. She drew near and fought to catch her breath. “W–why didn’t you t–tell us you were coming?”

  He pulled her into a warm embrace and kissed her forehead. “No one knows I’m here. I’ve come on a mission.” His brow creased, and he glanced toward the cottage. “Is Mum at home?”

  “She will be soon. She’s gone to the village to barter.”

  “I’d hoped as much but asked the driver to let us out here, just in case.” Peter’s lips pursed. “Pa?”

  “Where do you think?” At the tavern, of course.

  “Then the timing of our little visit couldn’t be more ideal.” Peter spoke a few words to the chauffeur, who got into the expensive car and drove away, leaving the three of them standing on the edge of the lane.

  Peter smiled and extended his hand to the lovely young woman, who slipped easily into his arms. The stranger’s china-doll cheeks were pinked with the slightest bit of rouge, and those lips—those full, perfect lips—were painted on, no doubt about it. Tessa tried not to stare at her gown, though she’d never seen anything like it. The majestic blue was a perfect match for the sparkling eyes of the unfamiliar girl standing before her. Still, what was such a creature doing curled into Peter’s arms?

  Peter looked at the girl with tenderness in his expression then glanced Tessa’s way. “Tessa, this is Jacquie Abingdon. I work for her father.”

  She started to reach out to shake the stranger’s gloved hand but then pulled back, concerned about the dirt on her own.

  “It’s fine.” The young woman took a step in her direction and reached for her hand. “I’m not put off by hard work. I admire it, in fact.” The afternoon breeze toyed with a tendril of her lovely chestnut hair as she gave Tessa’s hand a firm shake. “Nice to meet you, Tessa. I’ve heard so much about you.”

  “You—you have?” She pulled back her calloused hand, shame washing over her at how she must appear to this pristine woman.

  “I’ve only told her the good things.” Peter slung his arm over Tessa’s shoulder, pulling her into a familiar, comfortable hug, one that put her at ease right away. “She doesn’t know what a rapscallion you were as a child.”

  “Rapscallion? Me?” Tessa laughed as she crossed her arms at her chest in defiant fashion. Just as quickly, her gaze shifted back to the beautifully attired stranger.

  Jacquie’s silk dress shimmered in the afternoon sunlight, as did the pearl combs that held her beautifully coiffed hair. Her pristine button-up shoes caught Tessa’s eye, but nothing compared to the exquisite feather-plumed hat with its tiny silk bird. For a moment Tessa envisioned herself in that bird’s place, perched and ready to fly off to the skies, away from this godforsaken place. Just as quickly, her thoughts shifted back to her brother, who pointed to the stalls as an annoying squeal rang out.

  “Is that Countess I hear?” A hint of a smile graced his lips.

  “Naturally.” Tessa pressed back the desire to groan aloud. “She’s made a mess of things again. I’ve repaired the crates three times this month alone. And you won’t believe the holes she’s dug, trying to escape. I’ve never met a more determined sow.”

  “Well, let’s go visit with her. It will give us a chance to tell you why we’ve come.” His near smile twisted into something more suspicious, and her heart fluttered. They’d come specifically to talk to her? Why?

  “You want to talk—in the barn?” In the muddy recesses of the pig stall? With Countess in rare form and the piglets squalling at fever pitch? What would this lovely vision in blue think of such a meeting place? Tessa’s cheeks heated in embarrassment.

  Before she could voice the question aloud, Peter led the way across the yard toward the barn. As they drew near, the young woman on his arm pulled an embroidered handkerchief from her reticule and pressed it to her nose. No doubt the smell of the pigs and goats left something to be desired, though Tessa had grown used to it. One of the hens, likely stirred up by their approach, scurried around Jacquie’s feet and pecked her on the leg.

  “Oh!” Blue Eyes let out a squeal. “Well, that was a fine how-do-you-do!”

  Peter waved his hand at the intrusive bird and sent it on its way. Then they arrived at the barn, and he headed straight for the farrowing crates, setting them aright and giving Countess a scolding as only he could.

  Tessa looked on, confused. Peter glanced her way, and she could read the concern in his eyes. Her heart twisted within her as she anticipated his words. Clearly, he had come on a mission, one that involved her. With her pulse now pounding in her ears, Tessa settled onto a bale of hay to hear what her brother had come to say.

  Chapter Five

  Saturday, March 30, 1912

  Gloucestershire County, England

  Tessa brushed her calloused hands across her dirty skirt and gazed up at Peter and Jacquie. Her brother paced the stall, his gaze on the muddy floor. After a moment of awkward silence, Jacquie pulled down the hankie she’d held to her nose and cleared her throat.

  “Tessa, we won’t keep you waiting. I know you must be curious about why we’ve come.”

  “I am, yes.” To say the least.

  Jacquie took several steps in Tessa’s direction, finally, stopping in front of her. “I know that you and I are total strangers, and you might find this odd, but I’ve come to encroach upon your kindness to ask a favor.”

  “A favor?” A thousand questions flittered through Tessa’s mind at once. What could she possibly do for someone such as this?

  “Yes. I know I have no right to ask or expect anything of you, but I feel sure once you’ve heard our story that your heart will be affected.” Jacquie paused and glanced in the direction of the piglets then back at Tessa. “No doubt what I have to say will startle you, but if you will hear me out, I would be grateful.”

  “Well, of course I will hear you out.” What could this china doll possibly have to say that might cause Tessa to be ill at ease?

  “Please have a seat.” Jacquie perched on a bale of hay, and Tessa glanced out the barn door, knowing Mum would arrive shortly. And heaven help them all if Pa arrived home from the tavern to find Tessa seated on the job.

  The lovely scent of Jacquie’s perfume wafted across the stall and countered the smell of the pigs. Almost, anyway. She gazed at Tessa, her eyes pooling. “This is going to come as a shock, I’m afraid, but your brother and I, well…” She looked up at Peter with a sheepish grin.

  “What she means to say is, we are giving thought to marriage.” His cheeks flushed deep red, and though his broad-shouldered stance spoke of confidence, the worry lines on his forehead gave him away. Something about this did not feel right.

  Tessa looked back and forth between them, her mouth widening into an O. “How— I mean, how is this—?”
r />   “Possible?” Jacquie rose and twisted her handkerchief in her hands. “Yes, well, I see your point there. My father would never approve.” A roll of those big blue eyes followed her comment. “Not that I pay any mind to such things, but he is steeped in the customs and traditions of our family, customs that go back for generations.” Jacquie paused and gazed at Peter with longing. “But that does not negate the fact that I am in love with your brother. He is my life. And we will marry, when the time is right. After a proper courtship, anyway.”

  The young woman took a few steps toward Peter and leaned her head on his shoulder. He offered what appeared to be a genuine smile. Still, Tessa couldn’t help but wonder why Peter’s expression did not match the look of sheer bliss on Jacquie’s face.

  “I—I see.” Tessa rose and smoothed her dirty skirt. She didn’t really see, of course. Not a lick of this made any sense to her. What business did Peter have, toying with his employer’s daughter? Had city life confused him? Made him think more highly of himself than he ought? Did he plan to marry this girl to advance himself, somehow? The Peter she knew would never do such a thing.

  Her gaze shifted once again to the little silk bird on Jacquie’s hat. It bobbed up and down as the young woman spoke, as if ready to take to the skies.

  “My father has arranged for me to marry a wealthy businessman, but I cannot abide the idea.” Jacquie’s nose wrinkled. “Roland Palmer is as dull as paint. Mama has concocted a plan so that I might escape this fate. But I have a plan of my own. I wish for her to think that I’ve actually boarded the ship.”

  “Boarded the ship?”

  “So sorry. I’m getting ahead of myself.” Tessa giggled. “I’m referring to the Titanic. She sails out of Southampton in two weeks. Mama will see me off, and I will supposedly sail for New York, where my grandmother awaits.”

  Behind them, the piglets tousled with one another, their impish squeals interrupting the conversation. Countess rooted through her brood, nudging the babes this way and that with her snout, which only served to get them more excited.