Heart of the Ocean (18 page)

It was two days before she was scheduled to leave for France
when Eliza woke in the middle of the night, her forehead perspiring, her mouth
dry—the image of Gus Senior strangling Helena fresh in her mind. Gasping, Eliza
tried to calm her nerves. She lit the lamp at her bedside and with trembling
hands began to write down the dream. When she was finished she knew she had to
mail it to Jon. Either that or tell him in person.

She stared at the flickering flame dancing in the lamp a
long time before she began a letter to him.

Jon,

It is not my wish to write you
this letter. It is your mother’s. I know that must sound strange to you, but
ever since I lived with my aunt in Maybrook, I’ve felt someone close by and
have heard a voice—your mother’s. Each night I’ve dreamed of her death and have
been tormented by the details. Are they true? Is my dream what really happened?
I don’t know, but I’ve decided to record the nightmare and give it to you.
You’ll find it enclosed with this letter.

I hope the news is not too
shocking. I don’t know what to believe myself anymore. But I hope that once I
complete this task, your mother will rest in peace. Please do not contact me or
try to contact my family. I will be away for some time.

Eliza

Without rereading the letter, Eliza sealed it in an
envelope. As soon as the hour was decent to leave the house, she went out and
posted the letter herself. She wouldn’t take any chances with her mother seeing
to whom the envelope was addressed.

Preparations for the journey were made more complex by her
mother’s fussiness. “You’ll need at least seven hats. The sun can be quite
brutal in that part of the world,” Mrs. Robinson said, examining their
hatboxes.

“I’m not going to be gone for more than a couple of months.
I think I can get away with four.”

“Four day hats—and three evening ones.”

Eliza sighed, watching as her mother arranged them on the
bed. She placed each hat next to a respective outfit. When she reached the
final one, she held up the plain gray dress. “What’s this shabby thing?”

“It was Aunt Maeve’s. I wore while helping her in the
garden.”

Her mother stared at her. “You are
not
taking this.”

“I thought if I left it behind, you’d throw it out.”

“You’re probably right.” Her mother wrinkled her nose. “But
you can’t be serious about taking something so ghastly.”

Eliza folded her arms. “I won’t if you promise not to get
rid of it.”

Mrs. Robinson carried it to the closet and hung it up. “It
will stay there until you return.”

Eliza looked back at the bed, then rolled her eyes when she
saw what her mother had added.  “Mother, I won’t need three parasols. It’s not
as if we are going to be in one neighborhood and run into the same people each
day.”

“You can never been too prepared.” Her mother’s mouth was
firm. “I’ll call Bess to organize your things into the trunks.”

Before Bess arrived, Eliza removed two parasols, two hats
and three dresses from the bed. She stuffed them in the back of her closet,
hoping her mother wouldn’t notice.

Bess entered and embraced her. “I’ll miss you.”

“It’s only for a short while.” Eliza squeezed back. “I’ll be
back before you know it.”

“You’ll be grown up, I say, travelin’ abroad an’ all.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

Bess wiped her eyes, and then both women turned to the bed
and began to pack silently.

***

The following morning, Eliza woke early. Energy hummed
through her body, and she realized she was looking forward to the trip more than
she’d thought. Surely Helena couldn’t follow her to Europe. Eliza would leave
the woman’s voice and nightmares behind.

Descending the stairs, Eliza was surprised to see both of
her parents already at the breakfast table. Her mother’s eyes were moist, and Eliza
thought back to the day when they had departed in anger at the Maybrook train
station.

Now, there was only tenderness in her mother’s eyes. “Eat a
good breakfast, darling.”

“I don’t feel hungry,” Eliza said. “But I’ll try to eat
something.”

Mr. Robinson watched as Eliza picked at her food. “Remember
to only eat things that are
cooked
over there.”

“What about
escargot
?” she asked, only to see what
her mother would say.

Her mother blanched, and Eliza hid a smile.

“Only if the restaurant is reputable,” her father said.

“And only stay at hotels with indoor plumbing,” her mother
cautioned.

A tap sounded from the front door.

“The carriage must be ready,” her father said.

Her mother rose. “Always show good manners, and don’t speak
to strangers.”

“Everyone will be a stranger, Mother.” Eliza pushed away the
breakfast plate and stood.

“If Gina’s family is speaking to someone then it will be all
right to speak too. Just don’t leave their side.”

Eliza nodded. She embraced her mother, then her father. They
walked her out to the carriage. After hugging her parents, she climbed in,
hardly believing she was actually leaving.

The carriage traveled to Gina’s home, where Eliza waited
until they were loaded and ready to go. Gina climbed in beside her. Her face glowed
with excitement, and she squeezed Eliza’s hands. “I’m so glad you’re coming
with us. It would have been so dull—”

“I know, I know. You’d die of boredom in dreary France.”

Gina grinned as the carriage set off for the harbor. Eliza
stared out the window, half listening to Gina’s chatter, and soaked in the details
of the passing scenery as she wondered what the streets of Europe would look
like. They moved through the quiet, still slumbering neighborhoods, past the
rows of shops and then through lesser neighborhoods.

Eliza spotted a young boy who was barefoot, sitting on the
corner, selling the morning paper. His youthful face was streaked with dirt,
but his countenance was happy. She wondered how a boy who had practically
nothing could look so content.

Soon they arrived at the harbor. Eliza climbed out of the
carriage and stared at the massive ship that would take them across the
Atlantic. Sailors moved furiously about the harbor, loading crates and other
cargo.

Gina tugged at her elbow. “Let’s go on deck.”

Eliza linked her arm through Gina’s, and they walked up the
ramp together, Gina’s parents following close behind. Other passengers
surrounded them, waving to those on shore.

“It’ll be another thirty minutes before we leave. Let’s go
see our quarters,” Mr. Graydon said.

Eliza and Gina followed them into the main lobby. Down a
flight of stairs, they arrived on the first floor below deck, where their
cabins were. Gina and Eliza shared one adjacent to Mr. and Mrs. Graydon. At
first, Eliza was surprised to see how small the cabins were, but they were
immaculately decorated.

Two narrow beds were positioned against the sloping wall. A
single dresser and a closet were the only places for their clothing. Their
trunks had already been brought in.

Gina plopped on one of the beds. “Which side do you want?”

Eliza shrugged and crossed over to the porthole. It was hard
to make out any details beyond a fuzzy image of the harbor.

Mr. Graydon stepped into the doorway. “Ready, girls?”

Gina rose. “Let’s go say goodbye to America.”

Together they exited the cabin and followed the Graydons up
the stairs to the deck.

The number of passengers had increased. They moved through
the crowds until they reached the rail, where Eliza stood by the family and
waved to the people on shore. Many shouted their goodbyes around her, and she saw
a few passengers had tears in their eyes.

     A small commotion on the ramp
caught Eliza’s attention. A man was being turned away. Eliza squinted at the
figure and caught a glimpse of the man’s profile. For an instant, she thought
he resembled Jonathan Porter. She stared at the man, but then shook her head to
rid the foolish assumption as he retreated down the ramp. After all, what would
he be doing trying to board a ship bound for Europe?

***

Supper would be served at one o’clock. Gina had spread out
her clothes on the bed, and for several minutes she deliberated what to wear. Eliza
had decided to wear the same dress she had arrived in then change for the
evening meal.

“I thought your mother brought a lot of luggage,” Eliza said
dryly.

Gina frowned in concentration. “How long is this voyage?”

“Fourteen days.”

Gina pulled a cream colored dress from the pile and held it
up. She turned toward the mirror hanging on the wall. “Why does the mirror have
to be so small?”

“I’ll be your mirror. You’d better get dressed, or we’ll be
late and draw unwanted attention,” Eliza said. “Unless, of course, that’s what
you wish.”

Gina smiled.

Once they were finally ready, they waited for the Graydons
to join them before entering the dining hall. Eliza stared at the opulent dining
room. Pale blue brocade drapes hung against the narrow windows. The wallpaper
was blue and white in an Italian cherub pattern, and fine crystal glasses and
china adorned the tables. The atmosphere was quiet as people politely milled
about, greeting fellow passengers.

Anytime Eliza saw a tall man with dark hair, she thought of
Jon.
But he’s in New York, not here. Don’t be foolish.

The Graydons were led to their assigned table and found
themselves joined by another family. A man and his wife were already seated.
The man rose and made introductions. “I am Monsieur Bonne, and this is my wife,
Madam Bonne. Our son will be joining us shortly.” He was plainly French, but
unlike the man she’d met at the dance, Mr. Bonne’s English was excellent.

Mr. Graydon introduced his wife and Gina, then their guest, Eliza.
The waiter took their orders, and Mr. Bonne ordered for his absent son. He then
turned to the Graydons. “What takes you to Europe?”

“Pleasure,” Mr. Graydon said.

Mr. Bonne flicked open a snuff box. “Ah, and where will you
visit?”

Eliza listened politely as Mr. Graydon outlined the cities
and sites they planned to tour. Then her attention was diverted elsewhere.
Approaching the table was a boy of fourteen or fifteen.

Mr. Bonne turned his head and saw the young man. “Ah, here’s
our son now. André, we’d like you to meet Mr. and Mrs. Graydon, their daughter Gina,
and their family friend, Eliza.”

André gave an adorable bow then greeted them in perfect
English. “Pleased to meet you,” he said, then took his seat.

As the Bonnes talked about their homeland, Eliza’s thoughts
wandered again to Jon. Had he received her letter yet? What did he think of her
dream?

“Have you young ladies been to France before?” Mrs. Bonne
asked, paying particular attention to Gina.

“I’ve been once,” Gina answered. “But Eliza hasn’t yet.”

Eliza smiled politely and let the two of them discuss
various sites and people that they knew. She thought again of Jon and whether
it could have possibly been him trying to get on the ship.

“Are you ready?” Gina was saying to her.

Snapping back into focus, Eliza looked down at her barely
touched dinner. “Yes.”

They excused themselves from the table, and on the way back
to their cabin, Gina linked arms with Eliza. “What’s wrong? You hardly said a
word in there.”

Eliza glanced over at Gina. She really had been a good
friend. Perhaps she could share part of her worries. “I didn’t tell you the
whole story of what happened at the masquerade ball. Meeting the French family
reminded me of the Frenchman who asked me to dance.”

“I remember.”

“But I didn’t tell you about the next man who asked me to
dance—Thomas. He accused me of planning to bring a suit against him. We argued,
and I escaped the dance floor.”

They’d reached the cabin door, and Gina opened it, ushering Eliza
inside. The women sat on their beds, facing each other.

“I walked down a corridor,” Eliza said, “but someone
followed me. Jonathan Porter.”

Gina’s eyes widened. “The man you met in Maybrook?”

“He’s Thomas’s lawyer now.” Eliza exhaled. “Why do I have to
keep running into vile men?”

Later that night, Eliza lay in bed listening to Gina’s even
breathing. It had been nice to confess to Gina, but Eliza still hadn’t told her
everything. Gina would think her mad if she knew about the voice. Eliza closed
her eyes and tried to sleep, but she couldn’t stop wondering what Jon had
thought her letter describing her nightmares about his mother. Thankfully, last
night she hadn’t dreamed at all. She hoped that tonight she wouldn’t either.
Maybe Helena was pacified now that the truth of her death was in her son’s
hands. Maybe crossing the ocean was the answer.

Eliza finally fell asleep to the gentle rocking of the great
ship.

Jon stood before her. “Eliza? It’s Jon.”

“I know who you are,” she said, glancing at his Shakespearean
costume. She lowered her mask.

But she knew that the darkness couldn’t conceal her
tear-brimmed eyes.

He knelt before her, as he had once before. “Eliza,” he
whispered, “Please trust me.” He pulled her into his arms.

She didn’t resist him. She couldn’t. Her body felt
powerless as he kissed her. It was the kiss she’d been yearning for. The words
she’d been hoping for.

Eliza opened her eyes. Her body was completely warm and
relaxed, as if the dream had continued into reality. She pulled her pillow from
behind her head and squeezed it tightly against her chest. The kiss was still
hot on her mouth. Then her mind began to focus—Jon was not holding her in his
arms. She was in bed, on a ship, heading for Europe. But the contentment from
the dream would not leave, no matter how much she scolded herself.