No Greater Love (37 page)

“That’s fine.” Malcolm agreed to the doctor’s plan. It even left him free to play a little, if he chose to.

“May I have your permission to move her, sir?”

“Of course.” Malcolm smiled, saluted smartly, and went up to the bar, while the doctor, the nurse, and a stewardess removed the heavily sedated Alexis from Malcolm’s cabin.

She slept the rest of the trip, waking only long enough for them to sedate her again. She remembered vaguely
that she was on a ship, and more than once she screamed in the darkness for her mother. But her mother never came. There was only a woman in a white dress, speaking words she didn’t understand, and she wondered if the ship had sunk, and she was in another place … and maybe now she would find her mother at last … or was it only Edwina?

EDWINA HAD A HARD TIME BOARDING THE SHIP TOO, AND
there was no German doctor to keep her sedated. She boarded the
Paris
in first class, with the small bag she had brought with her from California. She had no evening clothes with her at all, but she knew she wouldn’t need any. Her only goal was to reach London and bring Alexis back. She had read her ridiculous letter, outlining their plans, and insisting that she was happy with Malcolm. But Edwina didn’t care how happy she was. She was seventeen years old, and she was not going to let her run off with that rotter. It made her sorry now that she had ever taken her to Hollywood at all, or let her make so much as one movie. There weren’t going to be any more movies now. There was going to be their quiet life in San Francisco, once she got rid of Malcolm Stone. And if she was very lucky, no one at home would ever know what had happened in New York or that they had even gone there. She was prepared to tell whatever lies
she had to now, to protect her younger sister. And getting her back was the only thing that got Edwina on the ship, as her legs trembled beneath her.

She was shown to her cabin by a stewardess, and she closed her eyes and sank onto a chair, trying not to remember the last ship she’d been on, or who she had been with, and what had happened after they set sail.

“May I get you anything, madame?” The steward for her corridor was very attentive, and looking very pale, she shook her head with a wan smile. “Perhaps if madame went up on deck, she might feel a little better?” He was very solicitous and very French and she only smiled and shook her head, and thanked him.

“I’m afraid I don’t really think so,” And as they pulled out of New York Harbor a little while later, she found herself thinking of Helen and George on their honeymoon. She had told Fannie and Teddy once again when she called that if George called, they were not to tell him anything, except that everything was fine and she and Alexis were out. She knew that he would be busy with Helen anyway, and he wasn’t likely to call very often. But the children knew where she was and that she had gone to London. But neither of them realized what a terrible strain it was for Edwina. Both of them had been so young when their parents died, that at two and four they had scarcely retained any memories of the
Titanic
at all. But for Alexis on the
Bremen
it was close to unbearable, and for Edwina on the
Paris
, it was extremely painful as well.

She took dinner in her room the first night, and scarcely ate anything, as the steward observed with disappointment. He was having trouble understanding what ailed her. He had assumed she was seasick, but he wasn’t entirely sure she was. She never left her cabin, she kept her curtains drawn, and whenever he brought her a tray, she looked dreadful and terribly pale. But
she looked more like someone suffering from grief or a terrible trauma.

“Madame is sad today?” he asked with fatherly concern, as she smiled up at him from something she’d been writing. She had been writing a letter to Alexis about everything she thought of her wild flight and her outrageous affair with Malcolm. And she was planning to give it to her when she saw her. At least it kept her mind occupied while she tried not to think about where she was. She was a young woman, but a very serious one, he decided. And on the second day, the steward wondered if perhaps she was a writer. He urged her to go outside again then. It was a beautiful October day, the sun was high in the sky, and it broke his heart to see her so unhappy and pale. He wondered also if she was traveling to Europe to escape from a broken love affair. And finally, after he had nagged her again, when he brought her luncheon tray, she laughed and stood up, looking around the room she had hidden in for almost two days, and agreed to go up on deck for a walk. But she was shaking all over again as she put on her coat, and walked slowly up to the Promenade Deck.

She tried not to think about the similarities and differences as she walked slowly around the Promenade Deck of the
Paris.
There were lifeboats hanging everywhere, and she tried not to look at them as well, but if she looked beyond them, she was looking out to sea, and that was upsetting too. There was nowhere she could go to hide from her memories here, and although it had been so long ago, it was all too fresh, and all too difficult to hide from. There were moments when she had to remind herself that she wasn’t on the
Titanic.

And as she walked back in from the Promenade Deck, she could hear the strains of music from the tea dance, and suddenly tears filled her eyes as she remembered dancing one afternoon with Charles, while her
parents smiled as they stood by and watched them. She wanted to run from the memory now, and she started to hurry away without watching where she was going, and in a moment, as she wheeled away, she collided with a man and literally fell into his arms as she tried to escape the sound of the familiar music.

“Oh … oh …” She could hardly keep her balance as he reached out and caught her with a single powerful hand.

“I’m terribly sorry … are you alright?” She looked up suddenly into the face of a tall, handsome blond man somewhere in his late thirties. He was beautifully dressed and impeccably tailored, in a hat, and a coat with a handsome beaver collar.

“I … yes … I’m sorry …” She had knocked two books and a newspaper right out of his hands, and it was comforting, she thought suddenly, to see him carrying such ordinary pastimes. Sometimes just the thought of being on a ship made her want to put on her life vest.

“Are you quite sure you’re alright?” he asked again. She looked very pale with her stark black hair, and he was afraid to let her arm go for fear that she might faint. She looked as though she was badly shaken.

“No, really I’m fine.” She smiled faintly then, and he felt a little better and let her arm go. He was wearing gloves, and she looked up then and noticed how warm his smile was. “I’m sorry, that was clumsy of me. I was thinking of something else.”

A man probably, he assumed incorrectly. But a woman who looked like that was seldom alone, or not for long anyway. “No harm done. Were you going in for tea?” he inquired politely, but he seemed in no hurry to leave her.

“No, actually I was going down to my cabin.” He looked disappointed as she left, and when she reached her stateroom, the steward congratulated her for finally
getting out and getting some air. And she laughed at his fatherly devotion. “It was very nice. You were right,” she admitted, and accepted his offer of a pot of tea. He brought it with a plate of cinnamon toast a few minutes later.

“You must go out again. The only cure for sorrow is sunshine and fresh air, and nice people and good music.”

“Do I look sad then?” She was intrigued by his observations. She hadn’t been sad as much as frightened. But she had to admit, she was sad too, it was just that being here on the ship brought back too many memories that were all too painful. “I’m alright. Really.”

“You look much better!” he approved, but he was disappointed when, that evening, she asked for dinner to be served in her cabin.

“We have such a beautiful dining saloon, madame. Won’t you eat dinner there?” He didn’t mind serving her, but he was so proud of the ship that it always hurt him when people didn’t take full advantage of all its luxuries and comforts.

“I didn’t bring anything to wear, I’m afraid.”

“It’s of no importance. A beautiful woman can go anywhere in a plain black dress.” And he had seen the black wool dress she had worn only that morning.

“Not tonight. Perhaps tomorrow.” He obliged her by bringing her filet mignon with asparagus hollandaise, and
pommes soufflées
made for her especially by the chef, or so he claimed, but as with the other meals he’d brought in the past two days, she ate very little.

“Madame is never hungry,” he mourned as he took the tray away, but that evening when he came to turn her bed down, he was pleased to find that for once she was not in her cabin. She had thought about it for a long time, and finally decided to go out again and get some air before she went to bed. She stayed away from the
rail, and walked slowly along the Promenade, keeping her eyes down, for fear of what she would see if she looked far out into the ocean. Perhaps a lifeboat, or a ghost … or an iceberg … She was trying not to think of it as she walked along, and a moment later she collided with a pair of elegant black patent leather men’s evening shoes, and looked up to see the handsome blond man in the coat with the beaver collar.

“Oh, no!…” she laughed, looking truly embarrassed. She had knocked something out of his hands again, and this time he laughed too.

“We seem to have something of a problem. Are you alright again?” She was, of course, and she was blushing and feeling more than a little foolish.

“I wasn’t watching where I was going. Again!” She smiled.

“Nor was I,” he confessed. “I was looking far out to sea … it’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He glanced in that direction again, but Edwina did not. She just stood there, watching him, and thinking that he was very much like Charles in his manner. He was tall and handsome and aristocratic, and yet he was blond and not dark, and considerably older than Charles when they’d been on the
Titanic.
The man looked back at her then, with a friendly smile, and seemed to have no inclination to keep walking. “Would you care to join me?” He crooked his arm for her to slip her hand into it, and she was looking for a polite way to decline after crashing into him for the second time, and she couldn’t think of a single reason.

“I was … I’m actually … a little tired … I was going to …”

“Retire? So was I in a little while, but perhaps a walk will do us both good. Clears the head … and the eyes …” he teased as she slipped a hand into his arm without thinking. She followed him slowly around the
deck and wasn’t sure what to say to him. She wasn’t used to talking to strangers, just to children, and to friends at home she’d known all her life, and George’s Hollywood friends, who, to her, were a bit less impressive because most of them were so silly.

“Are you from New York?” He was talking mainly to himself, as Edwina was too nervous to speak to him at first, but it didn’t seem to bother him as they walked along in the cool night air, with the moonlight overhead. And walking along with this handsome stranger, she felt more than a little foolish. She didn’t know what to say to him, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“No, I’m not,” she almost whispered in the darkness, “I’m actually from San Francisco.”

“I see … going to London to visit friends … or Paris?”

“London.” To snatch my sister out of the arms of the bastard who ran off with her even though she’s only seventeen years old and he’s probably fifty. “Just for a few days.”

“It’s quite a trip for just a few days’ stay. You must like traveling on ships.” He chatted on smoothly as they walked, and eventually stopped at two deck chairs. “Would you like to sit down?” She did, still not knowing why, but he was so easy to be with that somehow it was easier just to follow along. She sat down in the deck chair next to him, and he put a blanket across her legs, and then turned to look at her again. “I’m sorry … I’ve totally forgotten to introduce myself.” He held out a hand to her with a warm smile, “I’m Patrick Sparks-Kelly, from London.”

She shook his hand properly and settled back in the chair beside him. “I’m Edwina Winfield.”

“Miss?” he asked straightforwardly, and she nodded with a smile, not sure why it made a difference. But when she nodded, he raised an eyebrow. “Aha! More
mysterious than ever. People have been talking about you, you know.” He looked greatly intrigued and Edwina laughed again. He was funny and nice and she liked him.

“They have not!”

“I assure you, they have. Two ladies told me today that there is a beautiful young woman who walks around the Promenade and won’t speak to anyone, and she takes all her meals in her cabin.”

“It must be someone else,” she said, still smiling at him, sure he had made it up.

“Well, do you walk around the Promenade Deck alone? Yes, you do. I know, because I’ve seen you myself, and,” he added jovially, “been run into several times by this very same beautiful young woman. Do you take your meals in the dining saloon?” He turned to her questioningly, and she laughed again as she shook her head.

“No, I don’t. Well … not yet … but …”

“Ah, you see! Then I’m right. You are indeed the mystery woman everyone is curious about. And I must tell you right now, people are imagining all kinds of exotic stories. One has you as a beautiful young widow, on your way to Europe to mourn, another has you as a dramatic divorcee, yet another has you as someone very famous. I’ll grant you that no one has, as yet, figured out who, but undoubtedly someone we all know and love, such as, for instance,” he thought for a moment as he narrowed his eyes and looked at her closely, “could it be Theda Bara?” She burst out laughing at the suggestion, and he smiled too.

“You have a wonderful imagination, Mr. Sparks-Kelly.”

“The name sounds ridiculously complicated, doesn’t it? Particularly when spoken in an American accent. Please call me Patrick. And as for your identity, I’m
afraid you’ll just have to tell us the truth, and admit which movie star you are before everyone in first class goes mad trying to guess. I’ll have to admit, I’ve tried to guess all day myself, and I’m quite at a standstill.”