Cold April (16 page)

And it was dark with no moon. Some light spilled out from the rooms’ portholes, but not enough to see anything clearly. The deck benches became merely large black shapes spread out before her. Finding the bench where Kathleen had stowed her doll would be impossible. She’d been right after all; the task would have to wait until morning.

When she returned to the warmth of the inner corridor and entered the general room, she discovered that it and the smoking room next door had been joined to create an even larger space than usual, one that overflowed with people of all ages.

The room was decorated with streams of colored paper hanging from overhead beams and light fixtures, with a long bar along the walls containing bottles of various kinds of liquor. Music filled Beth’s ears and, moving toward it, she came upon a man playing the piano, three men playing band instruments and a fourth rubbing a stick along a small washboard. Several couples were dancing, and three women holding hands pranced around in a circle.

The tune finished, and another man, dressed in a kilt, took to the impromptu stage and began to play a bagpipe. More dancers rushed to join in.

“
Betty!” a voice called out and, within seconds, Harry Palmer, with shirt sleeves rolled up and collar open, came to Beth’s side, a wide grin on his ruddy face. “I knew you’d come. I told Lennie that you would.”

“
Why did you call me Betty? My friends call me Beth.”

“
Ah, but I am more than a mere friend.” He held a glass of what appeared to be beer in one hand and took hers in the other. “I am a very special friend, and Betty is my special name for you. One that no one else may use.”

He bent over in a rather sloppy bow and Beth decided he might be a little bit tipsy, and why not? It was quite late, and this party might have been in progress for several hours.

“
Are you alone, my Betty, or did Mr. Solemn-Face Graham come, too?”

“
I’m alone. Actually I came down here to try to find Kathleen’s doll, which she left behind this afternoon. She’s very unhappy over losing it.”

“
I haven’t seen any dolls around here. Where was it lost?”

“
She thinks she left it under a bench on the deck. I went out there for a minute to search for it.” Remembering the cold, damp air, she tightened her shawl around her shoulders.

Harry took her hand in his, as if to keep her from leaving. “Can’t go outside now. It’s too bloomin’ cold out there.”

“
So I discovered, but I promised I’d look for the doll. Kathleen’s quite upset.”

“
Later, pr’aps. I’ll get warm coats for the two of us and we’ll look together.” He paused. “Awful dark out there, too, ya know.”

That, too, was the truth. She’d been only fooling herself that she could find the doll that night. “Then I might as well go back up to my cabin.”

“
No, no, no.” He pulled her over to the bar loaded with a few unused empty glasses as well as bottles of beer, ale and gin. “What would you like to drink, my dear Betty?”

“
Is there any wine?”

“
Wine? That’s for the upper crust on the upper levels.” He laughed at his own joke. “We don’t drink that down here.”

“
I don’t care for anything hard.”

“
A soft drink, you say? I do believe they’ve hid a bit of lemon squash some’eres here. Will that do?”

“
Very much.” She wasn’t a particular fan of that drink but, unlike the others, it would at least not contain alcohol.

“
One lemon squash for the lady coming up.” He turned a glass right side up and poured some of the soft drink for her, then refilled his own glass from the spout of a beer keg that occupied a large area of the bar.

“
Thank you.” She sipped a little of her drink.

“
You’re just in time.” Harry gently maneuvered her away from the bar and back toward the musicians again. “Remember you promised to dance with me?”

“
I never promised.”

“
Well, I promised meself then.” He laughed. “We’re just getting ready to do the Turkey Trot. Do you know what that is?”

“
It’s one of those new ragtime dances, isn’t it?”

“
Right you are. Do you know how?”

“
I’ve never done it, but I saw it on a stage in New York when I was taken to a vaudeville show last year.”

Several couples crowded around them, getting closer to the musicians and calling for the song to start. Soon she was surrounded by gyrating dancers, and her ears rang with the music, as well as the shouts, songs, and laughter of the dozens of people in the room. Harry set their glasses down and led her through the dance.

They followed the Turkey Trot with the Bunny Hug, and Harry held Beth tightly in his arms so that she felt his warm breath on her cheek, his strong legs against hers. She hoped her skirt wouldn’t split from the strain, as his coat had done earlier in the day.

During a pause in the music, Harry picked up their glasses and they drank most of the liquid in them. When the music resumed, they danced again, Beth hardly knowing what she danced to. Harry smiled broadly the whole time, acting as if they were the best dancers in the room. Laughing, Beth managed to follow him in the strange steps of ragtime.

When the next number began, another young man, slender, wearing a handlebar mustache and an open vest, asked Harry if he could dance with Beth. She looked over at Harry, and he pushed her forward.

“
Right-o. Needs the practice, she does.” He laughed and went back to drinking his beer.

After that number, other young men, as well as a few older ones, wanted their turns with the “new lady,” and she had no dearth of partners. A quick learner and light on her feet, she soon mastered the bouncy steps and adjusted to the playful atmosphere. She was happier than she’d been all day.

What a delightful experience the evening provided! As she twirled around a partner, or joined hands with other dancers, she felt like a second-form student in her teens, still a child in many ways, but playing at being grown-up. She realized she’d never done that before. Her responsibilities had always kept her rushing home after school. She took care of her younger brothers and sisters, and stayed indoors at night. She seemed to study all the time. Then she’d gone to work as a governess, once more having tasks to perform and care to provide, instead of having fun.

But that night she was having fun, making up for all those stodgy years. Never had she attended a party like this. She laughed out loud and grabbed arms with people she’d never met, swung around in time to the music, even sang by repeating the words to songs the others knew by heart.

When the musicians finally stopped for an intermission—exhausted from their efforts as well—Beth returned to the place in the large room where she’d last seen Harry. Well into his cups by now, he slouched in one of the few chairs and looked up bleary-eyed at Beth.

“
Betty, me luv, come sit w’ me. I’m no good fer dancin’ no more.”

She laughed and patted his hand. “It’s all right. I think I’ve had enough dancing, too. I must go back before I’m missed.”

“
Say hello to Kathleen for me. Tell her I’ll find her doll come mornin’.” He hiccupped loudly. “And tell Mr. Gloomy Gus to go—”

“
Hush,” Beth told him. “You may tell him yourself when you’re a bit more sober.”

“
Sober? Who’s sober?” He laughed and drank some more.

Beth used the moment to slip out the door and navigate the long corridor to the stairs. She feared it must be almost midnight. At her own cabin doorway, she bent over, removed her shoes, and crept inside. A peek into the bed alcove revealed Kathleen still asleep, and she let the curtain drop into place again.

She quickly removed her clothes, put on her night-dress and crawled onto the couch, which had been remade into a bed. When had that happened? Who had made up her bed?

Chapter 16

When Beth opened her eyes to morning sunshine pouring into her cabin, Kathleen stood next to the couch, staring at her.

“
Did you find Toby?” she asked immediately.

Beth cleared her throat and rose on one elbow. “No, dear, I’m afraid I didn’t.”

“
But you promised.”

“
I looked. Truly I did.” She pulled herself to a sitting position. “But it was very dark outside last night and there were no lights on the deck to see by.”

Kathleen’s voice quavered and tears filled her eyes. “You promised.”

“
I know.” She pushed back the blanket and climbed out of bed. “I shouldn’t have promised you I’d find her. Only that I’d look. I’m so sorry.”

Kathleen collapsed onto her own bed and cried into the covers.

“
It’s not too late.” Beth hurried over to her, turned her around and wiped her tears with the edge of her night-dress. “Now that it’s daylight, we’ll go out to the deck where we went yesterday and look under every bench. Toby is probably still there.”

“
Someone took her.”

“
Perhaps not. It was too dark for anyone to find her last night. We’ll go and look right away.”

“
Now.” Kathleen pulled up her night-dress, as if planning to take it off that very moment.

“
Yes, we’ll get dressed and go to find Toby.”

She helped Kathleen change into her dress for the day, all the while wondering if they would really find Toby, or if some other child—possibly Josie, who Kathleen said wanted the doll—had already claimed her.

She was startled by a knock on the door. No doubt Richard stood in the sitting room on the other side.

“
We’ll be out in a minute,” she called.

Beth put on her own clothes while Kathleen struggled with the sash on her dress. Beth tied the bow, took the hairbrush and put Kathleen’s curls in order. “Now,” she said.

Kathleen opened the door and rushed into her father’s arms. “Toby is losted. Miss Beth and I are going to look for her.”

“
Before breakfast?” He looked up at Beth and waited a moment. “Good morning.”

Beth hurried with her explanation. “Kathleen discovered last night that she’d left her doll on the third-class deck, but it was too late to go and look then.” Richard’s face seemed to confirm that he knew everything she had done the night before.

“
You go.” She backed away. “Take Kathleen to breakfast and I’ll go down and look for the doll.”

“
That won’t be necessary.”

“
But it’s her only doll and she misses it.”

“
She won’t because she shall have it.” He turned about, went to the serving table in the sitting room and returned with Toby.

“
Toby!” Kathleen screamed and grabbed the doll from her father. After hugging and kissing it, she went into the sitting room and sat in a chair to examine the doll, checking to be sure that she had all her limbs as well as her clothes and silk hair.

Beth watched Kathleen as Richard silently stared at her. She felt her face flush and her knees weaken. How had Richard found the doll? Inasmuch as he had gone to dinner without her the night before, he couldn’t have known it was missing. She dabbed at her hair in a mindless gesture, feeling awkward and confused.

Finally Richard came to her rescue with an explanation. “About half an hour ago, I thought I heard someone at the door and, thinking it was the steward, I opened it.” He paused, perhaps for dramatic effect. “No one stood there, but the doll was on the floor wrapped in a bit of colored paper.”

Beth feigned amazement. “Do you know how it got there?”

“
No. Do you?” He picked up a piece of red paper from the table and showed it to her.

Although her voice sounded weak and shaky to her ears, she could truthfully say, “No.” She had a suspicion, of course, but no certainty, even though she recognized the paper as similar to what had covered tables and hung from lights in the general room the night before.

After a long, uncomfortable silence, Beth bustled into the room toward Kathleen. “Isn’t it wonderful that someone has returned your doll? People are very good, aren’t they?”

The child didn’t answer, just continued hugging Toby, afraid to let her go for an instant.

“
Well, as for breakfast,” Richard said, “we must hurry to the dining saloon at once. It is quite late, and then we should attend the church service. I understand Captain Smith will conduct the one for first-class passengers this morning.”

“
It’s Sunday,” Beth said absentmindedly, the reality slowly coming to her. “I’d forgotten.”

Richard smiled at last, the first time he’d done so that morning. She took it as a good sign. He couldn’t have known that she’d gone to the party in the third-class general room. Even if he had, it wouldn’t matter. He had already spoiled things between them by dining with Cecily and doing heaven-only-knew what after that. He was not her keeper. So long as she took good care of Kathleen, she could do as she pleased.

Yet who had made up her couch? Surely not Richard. It must have been the steward. He always came in to turn down beds and had an uncanny knack for knowing the right time to do so for each passenger he served. She sighed and dismissed her worry.

* * *

The day passed in a flurry of activity. After an awkward breakfast, during which she spoke almost exclusively to Kathleen, they went into the first-class lounge, where Captain Smith presided over a typical Anglican service.