Fateful (17 page)

Afterward, we decline to attend the evening’s dance. While we walk back to our cabin, Myriam says only, “Did Alec say something to hurt you? He seemed nice to me, but—your face this evening—”

“No. I don’t want to talk about it.” I grab her hand, not wanting her to think that I’m shutting her out. “Just—don’t leave me alone. All right?”

She nods slowly. “As you wish.”

So we spend the evening in our cabin, and she tells me about her life in Lebanon. Some of it sounds deliciously exotic—olive trees and the seashore—yet most of it is familiar. Everywhere people shear sheep and spin wool. Everywhere mothers prepare big bowls of soup for dinner before calling the children indoors. Everywhere children hate to leave home and yet know that they must.

The elderly Norwegian women—whom we think are named Inga and Ilsa, though we’re not sure which is which—stay at the dance until late and arrive home rather giggly. I suspect they’ve sampled the beer. Their earrings are exchanged for my felt purse with grateful smiles, but mostly I want to tuck the purse under my pillow. I feel the coins in my palm, as a lump beneath my head, the promise that I will be able to start over someday soon.

I try not to look at the door and wonder if Mikhail is on the other side. Mostly I succeed. I try not to think of what Alec is going through, or what Alec has done. That’s harder. But this night, for the first time since I have been aboard the
Titanic
, I am able to fall into a deep, uninterrupted sleep.

April 13, 1912

The next morning, I put on my uniform feeling as though my gut is heavy as lead. I tell myself that Ned was right, that it can’t get any worse—the Lisles have already docked my pay, and beyond that, little else matters. I intend to quit in just a few days. So what if Lady Regina is so angry about my adventures with Alec yesterday? Why should I care if she fires me?

But she’s already said she won’t fire me. I’ve already decided to work through the end of the voyage, because I don’t want my pay docked any further. This means I’ll just have to put up with her nastiness, and right now—while my heart still aches from learning that Alec is a killer—I don’t know that I can bear it.

I’ll bear it
, I tell myself.
I have to.

Lady Regina won’t be the worst of it, though.

I practically tiptoe into the Lisles’ cabin that morning, but most of the family isn’t up. Beatrice is wailing, though, and I can hear Horne trying to comfort her. With the pink dress folded under one arm, I step into Irene’s room.

Irene is awake. As usual, she’s still wearing her nightgown, her straw-colored hair hanging lank around her face. Dark circles shadow her eyes, and for the first time ever, she doesn’t smile the moment I walk in.

“Good morning, Tess,” she says, as politely as usual, though she looks likely to burst into tears.

This is the worst of it—knowing I’ve hurt the only member of the Lisle family who’s always been kind to me.

“Miss Irene, I’m so sorry,” I say. “It wasn’t meant to show you up. You know that, don’t you?”

“Mr. Marlowe and I had no interest in each other.” Her mouth quirks in something that’s supposed to be a smile, but isn’t quite. “I couldn’t convince Mother of that, so I suppose it was up to you.”

“There’s nothing between me and Mr. Marlowe. You know that’s not even possible. For me it was only a chance to be up on the boat deck for a day, and wear something pretty for a change. For him—I suppose it was a bit of fun for a rich man. Nothing more than that.”

It was so much more than that, but I want to deny it, both to her and to myself.

Irene lays one hand on my arm. Her hands are truly beautiful—slim and long-fingered, as pearly white and soft-skinned as any noblewoman could hope for. “Don’t let him take advantage of you, Tess. You deserve better than that.”

I could cry. “You don’t have to be nice to me! Not when I’ve made your mother angry with you.”

“Mother’s always angry with me, and she always will be.” Irene leans her head against the wall, as though it were too heavy. She’s more trapped than I’ve ever been, I realize; at least I can quit being a servant. Irene couldn’t even walk out of her house and get a job if she wanted to, because they’ve made good and sure she’s utterly useless. She’s never washed a dish or mended a seam. I bet she’s never even brushed her own hair. She plays the piano, and paints blurry watercolors, and speaks a little French, which even she says is very bad. There’s nothing she’s fit for but marrying someone, and she doesn’t even get to pick the someone.

I hand her the pink dress. She sets it in her lap. “I’ll keep this, because I suspect Mother will ask about it. But when we reach New York—Tess, I’m going to give the dress back to you.”

“No, miss. You mustn’t risk it.”

“It’s yours,” she insists. “You shouldn’t lose it because Mother’s mean, and because you wanted to spend one day on deck.” We look at each other, and the distance between gentlewoman and servant seems narrower than ever. I could almost believe we’re friends. “I know what it’s like to want just one day of freedom.”

I nod, telling her that I understand. Irene’s hand pats my arm again, and for a moment I think she might hug me. I wouldn’t mind.

But that’s when Lady Regina walks in.

“You,” she says. “Get to work. What can you mean, the morning after such an outrageous performance, coming in here to loaf around?”

I scramble for the silver-backed hairbrush on Irene’s dressing table, so I can get started on Miss Irene.

Lady Regina’s words feel like lashes across my back: “You’re just like your sister, aren’t you? A tramp with no morals, no decency. Watch you don’t end up in the same trap, my dear. Or is it already too late for you, as it is for so many others?”

My sister, the mother of her grandchild. Hot anger boils up inside me, and I think I won’t be able to keep from screaming.

But it’s Irene who screams.

“Irene?” Lady Regina stares at her. It must be as much noise as Irene’s made since she squalled after being born. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Leave Tess alone! Leave me alone! Get out of my room! I can’t stand the sight of you!” Irene looks positively mad. She picks up a small mug of water near her bedside and actually throws it at Lady Regina. It bounces off the wall, but it splashes her mother thoroughly, deflating her poufy hair. If I were less astonished, I’d never stop applauding.

Lady Regina doesn’t budge. “Tess, leave us,” she commands. “Go help Horne. She’s useless with Beatrice this morning.” I do as she says, though I wish I could stay for every word.

After the door to Irene’s room slams behind me, I start toward Beatrice’s nursery, but someone stands in my way—Layton.

He looks worse than ever. His fair hair is slicked back, but in such a way that it fully reveals how much thinner it’s become lately. Ned must have done that on purpose. But what really strikes me is the pallor of Layton’s face, the faintly swollen look of him. He’s always been a heavy drinker, but he must have spent virtually all of the past two days intoxicated. Thanks to Mikhail, I realize.

I’m not the only pawn in rich men’s games.

Layton stares past me at the shut door to Irene’s room. The argument between mother and daughter is audible, but muffled—but when they were screaming, he would have heard every word. I realize that he’s upset by something, and I think I know what it is. I’ve got him at a weak moment, and in a few days I’ll walk away and never see Layton Lisle again. If I’m ever going to say something to him about this, I must act now.

“It’s too late for my sister, isn’t it?” I say.
“Sir.”

This is his cue to sneer at me, or tell me I’m imagining things, or maybe go ahead and sack me. Right now I’m so angry I don’t care if he does.

He leans toward me, and he still smells faintly of alcohol. Either last night’s indulgence hasn’t yet lifted, or he began drinking at breakfast. I’m guessing the latter. “It wasn’t my intention to—to have, ah, matters turn out that way.”

Wasn’t his intention? He damned sure intended to do what got my sister pregnant in the first place. “You could’ve stood up for her.”

“What, and taken her to wed? Have a big ceremony at Salisbury Cathedral with the bishop present?” Layton’s sneering now, but his pale eyes are hollow. There’s no pleasure in these taunts. “What kind of simpleton are you, that you think something like that would ever be possible?”

“I know the way of the world, sir. But you could’ve taken better care of her. You could have done right by her instead of leaving her to starve.”

He goes white so suddenly that I put out my hands, sure he’s about to topple over. “Daisy—she—she can’t have
starved
.”

Good Lord. In some way, he actually cares. Just not enough. “No, she didn’t, no thanks to you. She’s married now to a good man, one who can look after her.”

Layton breathes out in relief. Whatever measure of concern he feels doesn’t extend as far as jealousy about her new love; the fact that Daisy’s now married means he doesn’t have to let guilt trouble him any longer. “That’s all right then, isn’t it?”

“She was hungry. She was cold and alone and afraid. People in the village laughed at her and called her names. My father will never speak to her again. You did that to her, with your selfishness.”

“You forget your place, Tess!”

“You forgot yours, didn’t you?”

Anger contorts his features, and yet he looks more handsome—more like the younger Layton—than I’ve seen him in years. It’s the first time I’ve seen anything as strong as a real emotion in him since . . . since Daisy left. “Don’t you start too. I heard enough about it from Mother and Father to last me a lifetime. I would’ve—but you can’t understand what it means, to have family responsibilities.”

I who shared a bed with my sister, who helped feed my sick gran, who did more for the members of my family than Layton will ever do for his. But I hear what he didn’t say. “You wanted to do better by her. You were going to give her a decent sum of money and support the child. But Lady Regina told you not to, and like a little lapdog, you obeyed her.” The obedience cost him, I see now. Did Lady Regina realize that when she defeated her son about this, she broke his will forever? Even if she does, I’d bet she doesn’t regret it.

The thought of Daisy, pregnant and alone, with only his golden pin to live on, and Layton abandoning her out of cowardice, fills me with an anger that crowds out rational thought. Before I can stop myself, I slap him—good God, I’ve struck a Lisle. It seems as if the earth should split in two. The blow didn’t land hard, but he’s off balance in his intoxication, so he grabs at my skirt as if to stop himself from falling on his rump.

I hear fabric tearing. The rip in my uniform is nothing, I think. Mostly I’m overcome with contempt for what a pathetic sight he is.

But then my felt purse tumbles to the floor, coins jangling, and Layton snatches it.

“What’s this?” He pours the money into his hand, and a few of the coins tumble to the floor. I start to go for it, but he blocks my way with his other hand. “Quite a fortune for a ladies’ maid. You can’t have kept all this.”

“I did. I saved it. It’s mine.” Although it’s mostly true, I remember that pound note I found on the stairs. My doubt must shadow my expression, because Layton gives me a smile of pure triumph.

“I don’t think so. We don’t pay you nearly enough to put this much aside. You call me a lapdog, but better that than a thief.” Anger has made him worse than the weak, drunken noodle he usually is; it has made him cruel. He scoops the coins and bills into his fist and stuffs them back into the bag, and puts it in his own pocket. “Stealing around the household, Tess. Tsk-tsk. That’s a firing offense.”

“That’s my money. Give it back to me.”

“Let’s ask Mother whose money it is, why don’t we? I’m pretty sure we both know whom she’ll believe.”

Layton has stolen my money. All my savings, every cent I had for my new life in America. If I quit when we reach New York City, the pittance Lady Regina would give me as severance wouldn’t even rent a room for a week. How am I supposed to do this now?

And I know—Layton and I both know—that there’s nobody I can tell who will believe me. Yesterday I might have tried to get Alec involved, but I know better now. I could ask Myriam to talk to George, but he’s infatuated with her, not me, and I never showed Myriam the money, so even she couldn’t swear to it.

It’s so unfair that I want to cry. But then, that’s what it means to be a servant. To be ruled by people the world calls your betters.

Layton sways on his feet, still drunk.

I slap his face so hard it hurts my hand. His head whips around, and I think for a moment he’ll fall. But he rights himself and clutches my arm.

“I hear you’ve run afoul of my new friend, Count Kalashnikov.” Layton leans closer to me, borrowing the power to frighten from Mikhail. “He likes you, he said. But you won’t favor him with your attention. Stupid of you, to refuse the attentions of a wealthy man—or, as I hear, to chase one when another is far more eager for your company.”

“Count Kalashnikov—he’s using you,” I say, but Layton ignores this.

“He’ll be staying in the same hotel as our family when we reach New York. I’d like to be able to show him true hospitality. And look at it this way, Tess—you can earn your coins back one way or another. With him or with me?”

I rip my arm free and run for the door. I don’t care if I’m abandoning my duty. I don’t care what Lady Regina will do next. There’s no way I’m going to be near Layton for one more minute.

“Where are you going?” Layton laughs. Then he starts coughing, so feeble that he’s almost a joke. “On this ship, dear girl, there’s nowhere to run.”

Chapter 15

WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?

I must leave the Lisles’ service. But I’ve lost my money, so now I can’t leave.

Layton probably doesn’t mean half of what he just said. I’d made him good and angry, but in the end, he’s too weak-willed to carry out that kind of threat. The last of what was good in him died when he abandoned Daisy; if he remembers his better self at all, no doubt he drowns the memories in wine. No, there’s nothing to fear in him. But Mikhail—him I can’t protect myself from. Maybe he’s told Layton he desires me because he’s trying to get Layton to leave us alone together. If that ever happens, he’ll kill me just for the fun of it.