Heart of the Ocean (17 page)

Eliza woke early on the day of the masquerade ball. She
hadn’t dreamed last night—no Gus, no Helena. She exhaled in relief. Maybe
burying herself in dance preparations had replaced the nightmares. She was
looking forward to the ball, although she was nervous for it. The Queen Mary
costume was complete, down to the last details on the ruff and overskirt. She
spent the morning bathing and washing her hair. Emma had provided an ointment
that was supposed to make her hair look redder. But after it had been applied, Eliza
couldn’t see much difference.

After lunch, her mother bustled into the room. “Let’s see
the costume.”

“It’s at Gina’s,” Eliza said.

Her mother’s lips moved disapprovingly. “Why didn’t you
bring it home?”

“We’re getting ready together at her house tonight.”

Hesitating, her mother said, “I suppose that’s all right. I
did want to see you dressed up though.” Mrs. Robinson kissed Eliza’s forehead.
“Be sure to wake me, dear, when you return home, so that I can see your costume.”
And with that she left the room.

Eliza breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t want her mother
fussing over her tonight. It was time for her to face reality now. Discovering
that Jonathan Porter was Thomas Beesley’s lawyer was a revelation. The world
was full of people who only had their interests in mind, not caring who their
grand agendas affected.

She was glad that the ball was a masquerade, so she’d remain
anonymous until midnight, although she planned to be waiting in Gina’s carriage
by then. She knew there was a chance Jon would be there with Apryl, and she
couldn’t endure another falsely cheerful introduction, followed by scrutiny.

By mid-afternoon, Eliza decided to approach her father and
talk to him about her aunt’s estate. She could go to Maybrook for a couple of
weeks and distance herself from Jon.

Mr. Robinson was in the library, writing letters. He looked
up as she entered and smiled wearily. “Come in. What can I do for you?”

She settled into a chair near his desk. “Have you given any
more thought to  what we’ll do with Aunt Maeve’s property?”

A faint look of surprise crossed her father’s face. “The
property is listed for sale. Once that’s complete, the money will go into a
trust until you’re twenty-one. I thought we’d already discussed this.”

“Oh, I know. I just wondered if I decided to take a trip,
could I use some of the money for the expenses.”

Her father leaned back in his chair and folded his arms.
“You want to travel at a time like this?”

“Only to Europe, and not for long. Gina Graydon’s family is
leaving in a couple of weeks for France. I’ve never been outside the States,
and I thought it might be a good opportunity before . . .”

“Before what?” Her father prompted.

“Before I marry and have my own household to run.”
I want
to get away for a while and stop the nightmares for good.

Her father frowned. “I didn’t know you had been thinking of
marriage.”

“Not in the immediate future, of course—another few years at
least.”

“Perhaps we could plan a family trip sometime. But I don’t
think your mother would want you to leave until you’re fully recovered.”

Eliza hesitated then said, “All right.” She left the room
feeling disappointed. She had to find a way to convince her father to let her
travel with Gina.

When it was time to leave for Gina’s house, she bid her
parents goodbye and climbed into the carriage alone, nervous and excited at the
same time. It would be her first dance since leaving New York to stay with her
aunt. Undoubtedly Thomas Beesley’s large figure would be a dead giveaway if he
was to attend the ball, so it would be easy for her to avoid him.

The evening air was brisk as Eliza settled into her
carriage. Gina lived in the more fashionable part of town, and Eliza marveled
at the size of the homes she passed. One of them was Apryl Maughan’s.

When Eliza arrived at Gina’s, her friend flung the front
door open before Eliza could ring the bell.

“I’ve been watching for you,” Gina said breathlessly. The
girls embraced and hurried up the stairs to Gina’s room.

They spent the next hour primping and preening until each
was satisfied with the outcome. Then they tried on their masks. Looking at each
other, they burst into a fit of giggles.

“No one will ever guess who you really are,” Eliza said.

Gina strode about the room. She held her head regally and
spoke in a low voice. “I’m the stately Queen Elizabeth.” Then she stopped and
surveyed Eliza. “Your hair might give you away.”

Eliza lowered her mask. “How so?”

“No one has thick wavy locks like Eliza Robinson.”

Eliza patted her head. “That’s not true.”

Gina laughed. “In your costume, only the most astute will
recognize you.”

Eliza gazed in the mirror, raising and lowering the mask.
She wondered how astute Thomas Beesley and Jonathan Porter were. Her gaze fell
to her swollen cleavage, pushed up by the costume so that she looked like she
might rival the likes of Apryl Maughan . . . not that she was trying to rival
anyone. Her face flushed a deep red.

“You look very alluring,” Gina said.

“What if I attract the scoundrels?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll fend them off with my ice-cold queen
look.” Gina laughed. “By the way, did you ask your parents about going to
France with us?”

Eliza sighed, replacing her mask. “Oh, that. I talked to my
father, but he thinks my mother will object—which really means he objects.”

“It will be so dreary without you. Following my parents
around will be the death of me,” Gina said with a moan.

Eliza rolled her eyes. “How horrible to be traveling in
Europe. I’m sure everyone will pity you.”

“Ha.” Gina swiped at Eliza, who easily dodged her.

A voice from the outside of the door called out, “Girls, are
you ready?”

“One more minute.” She grabbed Eliza’s free hand. “Are you
ready?”

Eliza swallowed and looked into her excited friend’s eyes.
“You tell me.”

Gina grinned. “You look perfect.”

***

A line of carriages had formed in front of the City Hotel. Gina’s
mother let out an audible sigh. “It’s bad enough that we have to wait to get in
the door. Why can’t they hurry things up?” She adjusted the folds on her Roman
tunic. Her face was an exact replica of her daughter’s, only older. Her hair
was a more faded red. Mrs. Graydon had the same stately height and infectious
laughter, although tonight she was quite impatient.

Gina’s father smiled as he smoothed his own tunic and
straightened the wreath of leaves on his head. “We’ll be inside soon enough,
dear.” He licked his lips as if he could already taste the wine.

While they waited their turn, Eliza watched the elegant
carriages lining up one behind the other. She didn’t recognize any of the
people who climbed out of them. Maybe decoding each other’s disguises would be
harder than she thought.

Gina pointed intermittently at arriving guests, trying to
guess who their costumes represented. “There’s Marie Antoinette, and look, that
must be Caesar Augustus, just like Father.”

Finally they were next in line, and it was their turn to
exit the carriage and enter the grand hotel. A full orchestra played at one end
of the ballroom, and a table stood close to the entrance, set up with drinks. Gina’s
parents stopped at the table. Mrs. Graydon said, “We’ll meet you right here
after midnight. Look for the Romans.” A high laugh escaped her lips.

Gina tugged Eliza through the maze of costumes until they
had reached the far wall, where chairs had been set up. Eliza scanned the room.
Cloth streamers billowed from the ceiling, and paper flower arrangements adorned
each table. She pulled away from Gina. “I don’t want to sit there.”

“That’s how the men know we’re waiting to be asked to
dance.”

Eliza grimaced beneath her mask. “Let’s walk around for a moment
to look at all the costumes. I don’t want to seem desperate for a dance partner
so early in the night.”

Gina laughed, and they began to mill through the crowd. They
stared at the numerous guests who looked curiously back. Nearing the entrance
they saw Gina’s parents still standing next to the wine table, caught up in
animated conversation with another couple.

“Look,” Gina said, grabbing Eliza’s arm. “There’s Mr. and
Mrs. Gelding.”

The stooped shoulders and slow gait of the elderly couple
made it obvious who they were. Eliza remembered them from drawing-room
gatherings. “Who do you think they are chaperoning?”

“Maybe no one.” Gina shrugged. “Maybe they’re here for the
free spirits. Come on, let’s find a seat. I can’t wait to dance.”

Eliza followed her friend into the mass again. They pulled
two chairs together and sat down. It wasn’t long before a couple of men
approached and asked for a dance.

Gina rose immediately and accepted for both of them. Eliza
stood and was led to the floor by a man half a foot shorter than she, who wore
white trousers and a military-style jacket. The dancing was a bit awkward at
first until Eliza grew used to her partner’s jerky movements.

“Are vous from around here?” His accent was thick.

“Yes, I live in the city,” Eliza said. “Where are you from?”

“Paris,” the man said, accentuating the second syllable.

“
Bon
,” Eliza replied.

The man grinned. “Ah!
Parlez-vous Française?
”

“Un petite peu.”

“
Trés bien
.” He quickened his pace. “What is your
name?”

“I cannot tell you,” she said.

“Because of the mask?” He stared at her quite intently. “Are
you Queen Mary tonight?”

“Oui.”

The man pulled her a little closer, so that Eliza caught a
full whiff of his cologne. “I’m here for one week only,” the man said. “Tell me
your name, Mary, so that I may remember this dance on the voyage home.”

What was the harm? She’d never see this foreigner again. “Eliza.”

“Ah. So vous
are
related to Elizabeth. How very
clever.”

“And what’s your name, sir?” she countered.

“Alfred  . . . Bonaparte.”

“Bonaparte? Isn’t that your costume tonight?”

“Yes, clever, no?”

The dance number came to an end, and Alfred escorted Eliza
back to her seat, where Gina was waiting. She thanked him, and he left after
giving her a dramatic bow.

“How was the dance?” Gina asked, stifling a laugh.

Eliza settled next to her. “It was . . . interesting. How
about your dance partner?”

“Oh, he was wonderful. He asked me a lot of questions
though,” Gina said.

Eliza turned to look at her. “Did you answer them?”

“Most, but I didn’t tell him my name,” Gina said.

“I told my dance partner mine,” Eliza said nonchalantly,
looking at the dancing crowd.

“But why?”

Eliza shrugged. “He’s from Paris and said he was leaving
soon.”

“Look over there,” Gina said, nudging her. “Isn’t that the
man you danced with?”

Eliza followed Gina’s direction and saw Alfred Bonaparte
surrounded by a group of people. His short arms were flailing as if to
emphasize a very important point he was making. Before she realized it, a
member of the group had broken off and crossed over to her.

“May I have this dance?”

Eliza’s tongue froze. The man before her was none other than
Thomas Beesley. Did he know who she was? It would be frightfully rude to turn
him down at a public ball, so she nodded, and the man led her to the dance
floor for a waltz. She swallowed the revulsion that had risen in her throat,
hoping Thomas didn’t know who she really was.
            “How are you, Eliza?” he asked.

Eliza felt sick. “How did you know it was me?”

“I sent a scout.”

“The Frenchman?” she asked.

Thomas chuckled until other couples surrounding them looked
over. “He’s a loyal friend trying to help me out.”

Heat rose in her face; she was glad the mask concealed her
embarrassment. “That was a cutting move, Thomas.”

“We need to settle some things between us,” Thomas said in a
low voice. His hold tightened. “I’ve heard that you’re trying to taint my
reputation.”

“I’ve done no such thing,” she said, stepping back and trying
to put more distance between them.

But Thomas held her firm. “A reliable source has informed me
that you have threatened to sue me for breaking the partnership with your
father.”

Eliza tried not to panic. “Your reliable source is a
meddling liar,” she retorted in a low voice. “If you and your shoddy lawyer,
Jonathan Porter, want to believe such filth, go right ahead. The fact is,
you’ve tainted your own reputation because of the way you’ve come after my
father to cover your wounded ego.” With effort, she pulled away from him.
“Never come near me again, sir.”

Eliza held back her tears until she’d left the dance floor.
It was too cold to stand outside so she turned to the left and walked down a
dark hallway until she found a bench to collapse on.

Jon watched the entire interchange between Thomas and Eliza.
No costume could disguise Thomas, and it took only a moment longer to realize
that the partner was Eliza. The unmistakable hair and translucent skin gave her
away.

When they had first arrived at the ball, Apryl pointed out
Thomas almost immediately. Since then, Jon had kept an occasional eye on the
man, wondering when they would cross paths. He’d heard about the exchange
between Thomas and Mr. Robinson, and was sorry he’d ever gotten involved. Eliza
would undoubtedly discover the connection.

Apryl had been dancing with a tall gentleman dressed as
William Shakespeare. Jon had watched her for a moment, before moving through
the crowd to find the wine table. It was then that he saw Thomas with Eliza.
They were talking rapidly, and Jon wondered if they were catching up on old
times. Before the number ended, Eliza withdrew from Thomas and left the dance
floor, her mouth set in a firm line.

When Jon looked to find Thomas again, the man had already joined
his friends, talking and laughing as if nothing untoward had just happened.
Perhaps the exchange with Eliza hadn’t been anything more than a regular
conversation. What would a normal conversation between them look like?

She was clearly upset, and it had to do with Thomas. Without
another thought, Jon scanned the room. She was nowhere to be seen. As he passed
the wine table, he took a glass and continued, walking outside. The night was
quiet, and the first snow of the season had started to gently fall.

Walking back inside, Jon stopped and scanned the foyer. A darkened
hallway extended on both sides. At the end of one stood a couple, their masks
removed. They were busily engaged in kissing. Jon opted for the other hallway.
The sound of his shoes against the polished floor echoed on the walls. He was
about to turn around when he heard a sniffle around a corner.

He walked in the direction of the sound. As he grew closer,
he could make out the form of a person sitting on a bench and the faint glitter
of a costume.

“Eliza?” he whispered. He heard a sharp intake of breath,
and he removed his mask.

The voice that answered was cold. “What do you want?”

“It’s me, Jon,” he said.

“Please leave me alone. You’ve done enough damage.”

Jon crossed to her, trying to read her expression concealed
by the shadows. “I sent you an apology.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Her voice was steely,
cold.

Jon didn’t let that stop him, although he probably should
have. Ignoring himself, he sat beside her. “What is it?”

“You know very well.” Eliza gathered her heavy skirts around
her and scooted to the far end of the bench.

“You’ll fall off,” Jon said.

The humor was lost on Eliza.

“Does this have something to do with Mr. Beesley?” he asked.

With that, fresh tears cascaded down Eliza cheeks. She
turned her face away from Jon. “Don’t men like you have anything better to do
with your time than destroy a man and his family?”

Jon sighed and wished he could reach out and console her.
“Your father will walk away from the lawsuit with only minor setbacks, nothing
compared to what Thomas will face. Thomas is no decent man—”

Eliza turned and faced him. “That didn’t stop you from
becoming his lawyer and trying to ruin my father.” Without giving him a chance
to answer, she stood and began to walk away.

He jumped to block her and placed both hands on her
shoulders. “I don’t know what you’ve been told, but I’m not Thomas’s lawyer.”
He lowered his voice. “Please believe me.”

Eliza blinked back tears and met his eyes with defiance. “Why
should I?”

Slowly, he lowered his hands. A thousand words floated
through his mind, all disjointed and unattainable. If he could only tell her
how he really felt. The faint glimmer of hope in her eyes pierced his heart. He
reached for her hand, but she drew back. “I can’t bear to think that I’m the
cause of your misery,” he finally managed.

Her eyes grew cold and hard again. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
She pushed past him.

Jon stared after her, aching to follow and take her in his
arms. The sorrow in her eyes would remain with him forever.

***

Eliza hurried down the hallway, not knowing where she was
going. A staircase rose in front of her, but she didn’t want to climb it. She
sat on the lower stair and tried to calm her rapid breathing. The pressure of
Jon’s hands on her shoulders had sent daggers of heat through her arms. She rubbed
them furiously, trying to erase his touch. She couldn’t deny the conversation
she’d overheard between her father and Thomas. Was Jon brash enough to lie
straight to her face?

“
Tell him
.”

A cold chill spread through Eliza’s body. It was Helena’s
voice again. It hadn’t stayed behind in Maybrook after all. Frustration crashed
through Eliza. Looking around in the dim light she said, “Tell him
what
?
Tell him that his mother is haunting me?”

No one—or nothing—answered. Only the distant sound of the
orchestra could be heard.

“Why have you followed me here?” Her voice grew hysterical.
“Why can’t you leave me alone?” She buried her face in her hands, trembling.
How could Helena still want something from her? Maybe the voice was in her
head—maybe it had always been in her head, and she was going mad.

Eliza rose and put on her mask. She retraced her steps down the
now-empty corridor to the front entrance of the ballroom. The wine table had
never been so inviting. She crossed over to it and helped herself to a glass,
then another. A few feet away, she spotted Thomas surrounded by his friends,
including the supposed Frenchman.

She felt nauseated. She put down the wineglass and went to
find Gina. Pushing through the throng of elaborately dressed people, she
finally spotted her friend.

“Where have you been?” Gina asked as soon as she saw her.

“I don’t feel well,” Eliza said.

Gina studied her. “Do you need to sit down for a while?”

“I want to leave.”

“I’ll go with you then,” Gina offered.

“No, enjoy the evening. It’s not even ten yet. I’ll be fine.”
Eliza turned and hurried to the front entrance before Gina could protest
further.

Outside several public carriages were waiting. She climbed
into the first one and gave the driver directions to take her home.

***

Eliza ran up the stairs to her room and was half undressed
when her mother entered.
            “You’re home early.”

Eliza nodded as she began to pull the pins out of her hair. Her
mother crossed the room. “Here, let me help you.”

Eliza lowered her arms and allowed her mother to undo the
apparatus on her head.

“Are you feeling all right?” her mother asked.

“I think it was too early to go out,” Eliza said.  “I’ll
feel better in the morning.”

Her mother kissed the top of her head. “Sleep well then.
I’ll hear more about it tomorrow.”

When her mother was gone, Eliza’s brave exterior began to
crumble. She climbed between the cool sheets and hugged her pillow to her
chest. She eventually fell asleep on her tear-stained pillow.

Helena packed her bags as little Gus watched her. “I’m
going on a trip, sweetie, and will be back soon. Tell thy papa not to worry.”
The little boy nodded with trusting eyes. She patted his head as she passed.
“Be a good boy.”

She left him and climbed on her horse, with Jonny
strapped in front of her in the saddle, sleeping. She could barely keep the
horse on the road and was tempted to take the shortcut. But she didn’t want any
neighbors to notice her. She had to appear as if she were simply going to
market, and she hoped the bundle tied to the back of the saddle wasn’t too
suspicious. Then the accident happened. The horse tripped on a root and threw
her and Jonny from the saddle. Jonny woke with a start and began to wail. She
untied him from the horse and tried to help the horse to its feet, but it was
lame.

Helena hobbled along the road as quickly as she could,
carrying her bag and child. She couldn’t afford to be late to the train
station. She hoped the townspeople wouldn’t be alerted by her dirty appearance.

Her heart sank when she heard a rider approach behind
her. One fearful look over her shoulder, and she knew it was Gus. She turned
sharply and ran into the trees, hoping to lose him. But he was gaining, and she
finally put Jonny down, kissed him through her tears, and ran in the opposite
direction. Someone would find Jonny. Gus could have his way with her, but she
wouldn’t let her child witness it.

It wasn’t long before her strength ran out and Gus was on
top of her. His eyes were burning, his chest heaving. It was only when she saw the
glittering blade in his hands that she realized she would never see daylight
again. She’d never see her son again. She heard someone shouting Gus’s name,
but it was too late. As the blade began its trail across her neck, her last
words were, “God forgive me.”

Eliza woke from her dream with a start, her pulse racing.

“Tell him how I died.”

The voice seemed to penetrate her skin, sending goose
pimples up her back. She sat up and gripped the pillow tightly.

“Go away!” she said into the darkness, and then she succumbed
to the shaking sobs.

Sometime later, with her eyes still squeezed shut, the voice
whispered again,
“Tell him how I died.”

This time, Eliza felt a calm pass over her. The voice had
been clear. Helena wanted her to tell Jon about the horrible dream. The clock
downstairs chimed once.

Perhaps the only way to stop Helena’s haunting her dreams was
to tell Jon about them. Her breathing came rapidly as she thought about seeing Jon
again. Panic rose in her throat. How could she tell him that she dreamed about his
mother’s death? That his mother spoke to her? He’d think she was insane.

She’d tell him right before leaving New York—it was the only
way to escape the voice and to forget Jon. And going to Maybrook wasn’t an
option, even though Gus was in jail. She didn’t want to be reminded of all that
had happened there. Surely the voice would grow more demanding and the
nightmares would get worse. The more she thought about it the more she realized
that Europe was the answer. She had to convince her parents to let her go.

 The following day an opportunity arose that Eliza couldn’t
pass up. After telling her mother the details about the ball, omitting the part
about dancing with Thomas and being cornered by Jon, her mother mentioned that
the Graydon family was traveling to France soon.

Eliza saw her chance. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that
they’ve invited me to go along.”

Mrs. Robinson's painted lips parted. “Have they, now? When did
this happen?”

“A few days ago.” Eliza pressed forward. “I’d like to see another
country, and the Graydons would like company for Gina.”

Mrs. Robinson stared at her. “Eliza. You can’t be serious.
You barely escaped for your life a matter of weeks ago.”

“I’m in the way here—you and father are so busy right now
with all the changes in the business.”

“How do you know about any changes?” her mother asked.

Eliza looked at the floor, avoiding her mother’s gaze.

“I don’t think you’re strong enough to travel. You couldn’t
even stay at the ball for more than an hour last night.”

“I’m better each day, Mother. It will do me good to have a
break from all the people who know all about what happened to me. And I can’t
go back to Maybrook.”

“No, you can’t,” her mother said firmly.

Eliza waited for more, but her mother had fallen silent.

“Should I speak to Father about it?” she asked.

Mrs. Robinson appraised Eliza for a moment. “No, I will.”

Eliza’s heart leapt. That meant her mother was considering
it.

***

After supper that night, Mr. Robinson called his family into
the library. He looked at his wife and daughter, his face etched with concern.
“Things aren’t going so well with the company right now.”

Eliza flushed, knowing it was the fault of Thomas Beesley
and his sidekick, Jon Porter.

Mrs. Robinson asked, “Will we keep the estate?”

“It’s not as serious as that, dear,” Mr. Robinson said. “But
we’re going to have to close a factory instead of opening one, if we are to
stay profitable.” He looked at Eliza. “The reason I’m including you in this bad
news is that I have decided that I feel that the strain of our family, and what
you went through in Maybrook, is hurting your health. It might do you good to
travel for a bit—get away from everything. I’ve decided that you shall travel
to Europe with Gina’s family.”

Eliza stared at him, not knowing whether or not to be
overjoyed or dismayed. She was desperate to leave her nightmares and Helena’s
voice behind, but not if it would hurt her family. “But you’ll need all
resources for your company. The money from Maeve’s place could help the
business.”

Her father smiled tenderly at her. “You are generous, but the
cost of traveling with the Graydon family will be minimal. You’ll share their
rooms and meals. Besides, I received notice today that Maeve’s property has
been sold. I’ll withhold a portion of it from your trust so you can enjoy
yourself in Europe.”

“I don’t want to go if you and mother are struggling,” Eliza
said. “Take the money for your company. I don’t need it.”

Mr. Robinson shook his head. “The business will soon improve,
and your mother and I will be fine. The balmy weather in southern France will
improve your health.”

With her parents’ minds made up, Eliza began to prepare for
the trip, wishing her father wasn’t going through such a difficult time, but relieved
that she’d finally be able to get away from Helena’s voice. Surely a ghost
couldn’t travel across the ocean.