Hiding from Love (13 page)

“Whatever is that fellow doing on the passenger deck?” exclaimed Mrs. Griddle.  “He's a stoker!”

“Curious,” Señor de Guarda agreed.

Leonora was puzzled because the young stoker seemed transfixed at the sight of Desirée!  There was no doubt that his intense stare had made her agitated.

What
was
it about little Miss Griddle that had such an effect on men?

“What is he gawking at?” continued Mrs. Griddle angrily.  “Mr Chandos – tell him to take himself off.  He should not be here.”

“I feel I should point out, Mrs. Griddle, that this is not a passenger deck.  The crew are at quite at liberty to pass this way if they so choose.”

Mrs. Griddle, disconcerted, fell back in her seat.

“Did I not say, Mr. Griddle,” she grumbled, “what we should be exposed to if we embarked on a cargo vessel!  To be stared at by such riff-raff – a filthy looking fellow!”

From Desirée came a repressed sob and Leonora regarded her in astonishment.

The young stoker looked uncomfortable.

“I meant no harm at all,” he mumbled.  “I was on my way below deck when I saw – I saw – ”

“You saw
me
,” interposed Mr. Chandos.  “You have a message, do you not?”

“That's right, sir.  A message from – from – ”

“From the Captain?”

The stoker nodded eagerly.

“Yes, sir.  From the Captain.”

He pressed a crumpled paper into Mr. Chandos's hand and then with one glance at Desirée, he stumbled off.

Mr. Chandos did not read the message, but tucked it into his pocket, staring after the stoker all the while.

Leonora noticed that Desirée as well stared after the stoker, her handkerchief to her lips as if she was afraid of letting out some inadvertent exclamation.

‘What role does the stoker play in the affairs of Mr. Chandos and Desirée?' wondered Leonora.  ‘Is he the means of passing secret messages between them?'

“Eccentric of the Captain to send such a chap with the message and not a Steward,” Mrs. Griddle was musing.  “I declare that this vessel is run in a most peculiar way.”

“You should complain to the Captain himself, then, dearest,” soothed Mr. Griddle.  “For here he comes.”

“How opportune!” cried Mrs. Griddle.

Mr. Chandos moved quickly to greet the Captain.  The two men talked for a few minutes in low voices and then they came on towards the group of seated figures.

“Captain, I have a bone to pick with you – !” began Mrs. Griddle.

“Ah, yes,” smiled the Captain, with a quick glance at Mr. Chandos.  “You object to my choice of messenger, I believe.  Well, madam, I do apologise, but on a cargo ship one does not always have the right man to hand.

“Of course, Mrs. Griddle,” the Captain went on, “I understand how upsetting it all is to a lady so careful of the usual proprieties as your good self.”

Mrs. Griddle simpered as Mr. Chandos turned away and Leonora was certain she had detected a grimace cross his features.

“I hope you will not object, Mrs. Griddle, when you learn that I myself have come in the guise of messenger,” the Captain continued.

“Oh, I couldn't, I wouldn't!” fluttered Mrs. Griddle. “After all, you do not sport a filthy beard and you are not covered in soot!”

Desirée put her face in her hands and her shoulders gave a little shake.

Leonora hesitated and then her better self prevailed, as she laid a gentle hand on Desirée's arm.

Desirée looked up, her eyes brimming with tears.

“So what message is it you bring, Captain?” Mrs. Griddle asked sweetly.

“Well, I have decided to throw a party this evening.  It will be only a modest affair, but there will be punch and entertainment provided by the Professor and his family.”

“Are all the passengers invited?”

“Of course and though there are not many of you, I hope it will prove a convivial affair.”

“I am certain that all present here will accept with alacrity,” pronounced Mr. Griddle.

Leonora was disconcerted that she had accepted on her behalf.  She was not at all sure she wanted to attend a party when Mr. Chandos and Desirée were sure to further cement their attachment.

There was also the question of what to wear.  How could she appear at the party in yet another of her mother's old-fashioned and ill-fitting gowns?

She bit her lip, wondering if she might make her excuses on the grounds of poor health, but the Captain was already moving away.

Desirée was looking at her anxiously and seemed to read her thoughts.

“You will come along this evening, won't you?” she pleaded.  “I should so welcome the company of another young lady.”

Leonora regarded Desirée coolly.

“But Mr. Chandos would not welcome the presence of a companion, surely?”

“Whatever do you mean, Miss Cressy?  Surely you don't think –?”

Before Desirée could complete her sentence, Mrs. Griddle's voice rang out loudly.

“Here's the Steward at last and thank Heavens too.  We're all nearly parched to death.  Now, what shall it be?  Darjeeling and muffins?”

Amid the flurry of orders, Señor de Guarda took the opportunity of addressing Leonora.

“I hope you will dance with me this evening, Miss Cressy?”

“I don't think I will dance with anyone.”

“I will endeavour to change your mind – ”

Tea arrived and as everyone settled down with cups and plates, Mrs. Griddle returned to the subject of the Captain's invitation.

“He might call this evening ‘a modest affair', but I for one will seize the opportunity to dress my family and myself in style.  I have brought along a particularly pretty wardrobe for my daughter.  I always make sure that she is always dressed
à la mode
.  Would you not agree that I am successful in this, Mr. Chandos?”

Mr. Chandos looked up.  His eyes flickered towards Desirée, who sat in mute embarrassment at being singled out for attention.

“I am sure that Miss Griddle pleases many an eye.”

“But one eye more than the others?”

Mr. Chandos hesitated.

“One eye more than others, indeed, madam.”

Mrs. Griddle swooned.

“Yet you must agree that I might be permitted to guess, Mr. Chandos?”

“Indeed you may,” he replied dryly.

Leonora listened to this chatter with her head bent over her cup.  It seemed odd that Mr. Chandos was willing to declare his interest in Desirée to Finny, but not to her mother.  Perhaps he was not entirely serious in his suit?

Would he be so cruel, though, as to lead Desirée to believe he had intentions when he did not?

“Well,” added Mrs. Griddle.  “I always endeavour to make Desirée the belle of the ball.”

“You certainly do,” beamed Mr. Griddle, turning casually to Leonora.  “And what will you be wearing this evening, my dear?”

“I am not – sure.  All my dresses need – alteration.  In fact, I was wondering if Mrs. Griddle would be able to lend me a sewing case.”

She then gestured wearily to Leonora.

“Come to my cabin later, Miss Cressy, and I shall endeavour to provide you with what you need.”

At this juncture Leonora decided to slip away to her cabin.  There she spread all her dresses out on the bed and spent much time deciding which one she should single out for the evening.

At last she chose a midnight blue silk.  There was little she could do about its high forbidding bodice, but she could shorten the hem and cut off the unflattering bow.

*

At six o'clock she went in search of Mrs. Griddle's cabin and found it crammed with trunks, some of which lay open to reveal mountains of hosiery.

Desirée lay still on her bed, a cold compress on her forehead, her hand thrown up behind her on the pillow.

She had obviously been crying, for her eyelids were swollen and inflamed.

As Leonora hesitated in the doorway, Mrs. Griddle gestured at her daughter.

“I don't hold with all these afflictions of the heart, Miss Cressy.  It's unhealthy.  No, don't come in, you might tread on some tissue.  I'm just trying to repack our goods.”

As Mrs.Griddle twittered on, Leonora glanced over in wonderment at Desirée.  What sort of ‘afflictions of the heart' could reduce the girl to this?

Surely her budding relationship with Mr. Chandos was not responsible?

Mrs. Griddle thrust a green pouch at Leonora.

“There you are.  Reels of cotton and some needles, plus a pair of scissors.  That should do you.”

“Thank you,” said Leonora as she was pushed out of the door.  “Goodbye, Desirée.”

She heard Desirée murmur something from the bed as the door closed behind her.

In the sudden dark of the corridor, she found herself suddenly uncertain of which way to turn.

She blundered along until she saw a light ahead, so she hastened her steps and rounded the corner.

The light shone upwards from a lower deck.

She peered over the rail and then withdrew a little, as if afraid to be seen.

There below her was Mr. Chandos in what seemed like a heated conversation with the same stoker who had so agitated Desirée.

As Leonora watched, the stoker suddenly turned and punched the wall, drawing his fist away to reveal bloodied knuckles.

“Don't be a fool!” she heard Mr. Chandos shout.

Trembling, she turned around and stumbled blindly back along the corridor.

She was quite clear as to what she had witnessed.

The two men were quarrelling over Desirée.  The stoker had punched the wall rather than Mr. Chandos, who had remained cool as if he was certain of his ground.

Desirée was
his
– if he so desired.

Leonora reached her cabin and flung open the door.  She moved in a daze to the centre and just stood there.

She felt herself rise and fall gently with the ship and after a moment she realised that she was clutching something to her breast.

What was it?

She held it at arm's length for a good minute before she remembered.

Mrs. Griddle's sewing pouch.

So then, tonight Desirée would be the belle of the ball, loved by two men while she was loved by none!

Leonora surveyed herself dubiously in the mirror.

Despite her bad mood, she had worked quickly to alter her mother's dress.  The hem was now just right and the large bow had been removed, but she had not had time to attack the collar that made her look like a Governess!

Then there was her face.

She could pinch her cheeks until they flushed pink and she could brush her hair until it shone, but how could she put a sparkle into her eyes?

She sighed and turned away from her reflection.

What did it matter how she looked?

Who was going to notice her, except Mrs. Griddle and
her
eye would be merely critical?

She opened the cabin door and came face to face with Señor de Guarda, his hand raised as if about to knock.

“Miss Cressy, you look, how is it to be said?  Most singular.  I am hoping you will allow me to escort you?”

He crooked his arm and waited.

Leonora stared at him – the Señor, of course!

He might not actually
love
her, but there was no doubt that he
admired
her, even in her present strange garb.

He had certainly striven to look his very best with his glistening moustache and impeccably pressed trousers.

Better to enter the salon in his company than alone.

“I shall be most happy Señor,” she murmured and took his arm.

Bunting had been hung around the salon and a long trestle groaned with various dishes.

In one corner of the room the Professor and his sons were setting up music stands and taking two violins from their cases, while his wife was dusting down the piano.

Mr. Griddle was already sampling the buffet, whilst Mrs. Griddle stood at his side, waving a garishly painted fan rather violently before her face.

She was encased in a stiff magenta coloured gown and Leonora thought she looked like a pink mushroom!

The Captain advanced with a smile.

“Miss Cressy, Señor de Guarda.  I am very happy you could join us.  I hope you will partake of our excellent buffet and the splendid punch in the tureen over there.”

“I shall fetch two glasses immediately,” said Señor de Guarda enthusiastically.

Leonora was barely aware of the two men moving away together, as her mind was elsewhere as she sought out Desirée and Mr. Chandos.

Mr. Chandos was not to be seen, but Desirée was, sitting on a wooden settle.

Dressed awkwardly in an unbecoming lime green, she was playing with the clasp of her gold purse.  Now and then she cast a furtive look at her mother.

Leonora frowned.

What was in that purse that she fidgeted so with it?

Desirée seemed unaware of Leonora as between the purse and her mother her attention was utterly consumed.

Until, that is, there were murmurs in the doorway of the salon.

Desirée turned her head to the sound and suddenly her whole face brightened.

Leonora with her back to the door began to tremble, as she had no doubts as to the identity of the new arrival.

She hardly dared look and yet she could not resist.

Yes, it was
he
!

Oh, how divine he looked in his dark coat and silk cravat.  He was by far and away the most handsome man in the room – on the ship – in the world!

What was more, he was looking at her.  Directly at her!  And there was something in his gaze that she had not expected.

Beneath heavy brooding eyelids, his expression was tender and appreciative.

Leonora's pulse quickened as he made as if to step towards her.

Then almost immediately something stopped him in his tracks.  His features hardened and he turned abruptly away as at the same moment a voice sounded in her ear.