Hiding from Love (15 page)

Finny hurried away.

“Midnight – midnight,” Desirée muttered to herself.

She sat down, put an abstracted hand on Leonora's brow and immediately sprang up again.

Small as the cabin was, she began to pace the floor and seemed for a moment to have forgotten her charge.

Leonora watched, a bitter suspicion in her breast.

It was obvious that Desirée had an assignation that she was most anxious to keep.

An assignation with Mr. Chandos!  This had been the meaning of that
billet-doux
in her purse that she had finally managed to slip to him.

‘I won't let her go,' Leonora suddenly resolved.  ‘I know it is hateful and petty of me and it won't make Mr. Chandos love me rather than her, but –
I won't let her go
!'

Her mind made up and she began to moan loudly.

Desirée stopped her pacing and stared at Leonora.

“What's the matter?” she cried.  “Are you in pain? Shall I fetch the Captain?  He is, I think, a doctor of sorts.”

Leonora shook her head and held out her hand.

Desirée came close and grasped it.

“My poor friend!” she murmured.

If some flush of shame ran through Leonora at this designation of ‘friend', she quickly suppressed it.

All is fair in love and war.

She could not
win
this war, as it was obvious that Mr. Chandos had already made his choice, but she could take a perverse pleasure in making sure the path of love did not run too smoothly!

She closed her fingers around Desirée's hand.

“I am sure I'll be all right if you don't leave me,” she pleaded, allowing tears to well in her eyes again.  “I d-don't want to be alone.  Please don't leave me.”

Desirée looked fraught.

“Not leave you?”

“No – if you are truly my friend – ”

“Oh, I am, I am,” insisted Desirée, though her eyes flew hither and thither as if to find a means of escape.

“Then stay with me.”

Desirée hesitated for a short moment and then in resignation, let her head droop.

“Of course I will, at least, until you sleep.”

‘
Until I sleep
,' Leonora echoed silently, ‘very well, I
won't
sleep!'

She was helped in this resolution by the return of Finny with a bowl of hot soup, but she sent him away lest Desirée should find his presence an excuse to leave her.

She enlisted her aid in sitting up and asked her to hold the bowl while she drank from the spoon.

She noticed with satisfaction Desirée's expression grow more and more miserable by the second.

She finished the soup and lay back on the pillow.

The light rocking of the ship was soporific and she soon found herself having to fight to keep awake.

“Tell me about yourself, Desirée,” she urged.

“Oh, there is nothing about me that would interest someone like
you
, Leonora.  I'm really quite ordinary, you know.  And – plain.”

‘Surely not too ordinary or plain for Mr. Chandos,' Leonora thought bitterly.

“I'm really not that talented, either,” she continued.  “Though I am good at needlework.”

“You are too modest,” said Leonora wryly.  “After all, you've had your share of admirers, haven't you?”

Desirée looked sad.

“Not many, no.”

“Not one who was – is – special?”

“Y-yes,” she faltered.  “One who
is
– special.”

‘
Ha
,' thought Leonora, ‘
she's as good as admitted it
!

It is Mr. Chandos, for the only other admirer is the one her parents prised her from by carrying her off on this ship and
he
could only be referred to in the past tense!'

Desirée now seemed to have relinquished all hope of attending her assignation.  Hands folded on her lap, she stared silently down at the floor.

Regarding her wretched expression, Leonora began to feel uncomfortable.  After all it was little more than a trivial triumph to boast that she had prevented the lovers meeting on just this one occasion.

‘How far I have come from the girl at Fenfold,' she pondered with concern.  ‘
She
would never have stooped to torment someone like Desirée in this way.

‘
She
would never have so demeaned herself as to drink punch and dance in front of a man whose character is as questionable as that of Señor de Guarda.

She shivered as she recalled his threat.

“
Remember I know enough to undo you
!”

He knew that she was a runaway and he knew she had taken Mr. Schilling's money – in fact he knew enough to ruin her reputation on this ship and beyond.

Leonora sighed to herself.

‘What would Mama say if she knew?  What would Isobel say?'

Isobel would certainly reprimand her.

‘How could you let
love
change you so for the worse?' she would ask.

Leonora was brought out of her punishing thoughts by the sound of a knock at the cabin door and she watched as Desirée went to the door and opened it.

Mr. Chandos stood outside.

Glancing to the right and left along the corridor, he handed Desirée a folded piece of paper.

She took it and scanned it quickly before thrusting it into her bodice and then looked up at Mr. Chandos and said something in a low voice.

In an equally low voice, he replied.  Desirée shook her head and twisted her hands in apparent anguish.

She turned to refer to Leonora where she lay in bed and Leonora quickly closed her eyes.

When she opened them a few seconds later, Desirée was writing something at the table.

She then returned to the door, where Mr. Chandos waited and handed the paper to him.

They are making yet another assignation, Leonora thought angrily, her moment of remorse quickly forgotten.  They have no shame!

“You may depend on me,” she heard Mr. Chandos say quietly and then he was gone.

Desirée closed the door and returned to her chair.

“Are you awake?” she asked Leonora.

Leonora, as if asleep, turned to the wall.

‘I'll wait and see what she does next,' she promised herself, stifling a yawn.  ‘I won't sleep, I'll just wait.'

The very late hour proved too powerful for her for a second, however, but the next thing she knew was that her eyes were wide open.

Raising her head, she saw that the cabin was empty.

Desirée had gone.

Crossly she sat up and felt for her shoes.  She must have slept for just an instant and in that instant her quarry had flown.

She then stumbled to the door, opened it and looked along the corridor, just in time to see the edge of Desirée's skirt disappear around the corner.

Driven to distraction at the thought of them meeting after all – though hardly knowing what she would do if she should indeed so discover them – Leonora hurried after.

To her surprise, Desirée did not seem to be making for the saloon or deck or anywhere that Leonora deemed appropriate for a secret meeting.

Instead she was heading for the stairs that led down to the lower depths of the ship – normally out of bounds to passengers.

Leonora waited until she heard Desirée's steps ring out on the steel stairs.  Then she ran to the rail and peered after her.

She would have to take off her shoes if her pursuit was not to be discovered as she followed Desirée.

The very air below seemed to pulsate and Leonora realised that she must be near to the engine room.

What on earth could have possessed Mr. Chandos to suggest such a rendezvous?

For a second her resolve faltered.  What could she possibly hope to achieve by following Desirée in this way?

The misery of seeing all her suspicions confirmed?  The mortification of seeing that pallid creature wrapped in the arms of the man that she, Leonora, desired more than any other in the world?

Did she hope such a sight would act as a purgative on her emotions and rid her of this ridiculous obsession?

Hearing Desirée reach the bottom of the stairs, she gave herself a shake.

There was no time to dwell on her motives.

She was cast now upon her course, as surely as a leaf on the surface of a stream.

Taking firm hold of the steel rail of the stairway to steady herself, she started down.

The heat became stifling and the thrum and throb of the engine was like the beat of a gigantic heart.

The cladding of the ship seemed to shudder and she tried not to think of the dark mass of sea on every side.

She found herself in what seemed for the moment like the centre of a volcano.  It was all fire and noise, fierce glow and cavernous shadows.

Her face burned with the heat emanating from four huge furnaces.

The furnaces in turn were like the gaping maws of hungry beasts.  Stokers in dirty vests, sleeves rolled to the elbow, slaved to feed them with shovelfuls of coal.

Leonora cast frantically round for Desirée.

The pounding furnaces created avenues as straight as the boulevards of a foreign City and along one of these Desirée was creeping, her head low as if trying to hide.

Near the end of the row of furnaces she stopped and drew from her bodice the
billet-doux
that Mr. Chandos had given her earlier that night.

Leonora watched jealously as she brought the paper to her lips before reading its contents again.

Once read she thrust the paper back into her bodice and proceeded on, turning left at the end of the row.

Although her footfall could not possibly be heard amidst the din, Leonora found herself resorting to tiptoe, as she followed quickly after her prey.

There was a series of doors in a long wall and one of these was open and there stood a stoker, his hair lank over his forehead, his hands holding a tin mug.

He seemed unaware of Desirée, who had stopped in her tracks at the sight of him.

Leonora, her view impeded somewhat by the figure of Desirée, shrank back to observe the scene before her.

She felt a degree of satisfaction at the idea that this humble stoker with his tin mug might prove an unwitting obstacle to the fulfilment of the lovers' plans.

Obviously Mr. Chandos waited behind one of those very doors that Desirée did not dare now approach!

Then the stoker heaved an audible sigh and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

Trembling, Desirée now moved closer to the wall, leaning against it for support.  This gave Leonora a clearer view of the stoker and what she saw made her start.

She recognised the same soot-streaked features of the young man she had once suspected of passing messages between Mr. Chandos and Desirée.  The same young man she had later seen punching the wall during a heated exchange with Mr. Chandos.

Whatever the nature of his role previously, Leonora decided scornfully, he was now playing the part of look-out to warn the lovers if someone might approach.

Again she contemplated turning back while she was still unobserved.

Another second and all her certainties were shaken.

Desirée, her eyes still fixed on the stoker, suddenly gave out a low moan, whether of frustration or sorrow, she could not determine.

It was a sound the stoker could not possibly have heard amidst the noise and yet he looked Desirée's way.

Seeing her, he gave a cry, threw the mug aside and rushed forward.

Leonora gasped as she saw him sweep Desirée into his arms and press his grimy face to her pale cheek.

What was this?  Where was Mr. Chandos?

Was Desirée playing false already
?

Playing false with a mere member of the crew?  A fellow in a torn vest with a dirty face?  How
could
she?

The dirty stoker was now swinging Desirée around in undisguised ecstasy.

In this circuit Desirée's eyes fell on Leonora and opened wide in alarm.  She then struggled to release herself from the stoker's grasp.

Alerted, he set her down and Desirée pointed.

There was a pause before the stoker found his voice.

“What the hell do you mean by this?” he demanded of Leonora.

She was astounded at his lack of embarrassment, as she had indeed witnessed a most compromising encounter.

“What do
I
mean?” she replied haughtily.  “Isn't the question rather, what do
you
mean, sir?”

The stoker's response was not at all what she might have expected.

“That, young lady, is my business.”

Leonora smarted with indignation.

His
business?  As if Mr. Chandos did not exist, as if he had no prior claim on this young woman who now so heartlessly and heedlessly betrayed him!

“I would think Mr. Chandos might not agree with you there,” she retorted acidly.

Desirée and he threw each other a glance.

“Mr. Chandos?”

Leonora felt a little disconcerted to see that the two looked puzzled and not guilty at the mention of Desirée's erstwhile suitor.  Nevertheless, she blundered on,

“Yes.  Does
he
know about this assignation?”

Desirée regarded her gravely.

“Of course he knows about it, Leonora.  It's
he
who has been helping us.”

“
Helping
you?”

“Yes.  Robert and I could not meet openly, so Mr. Chandos carried messages for us.”

Leonora could not believe her ears – firstly at hearing Desirée refer to the stoker by his first name and secondly at the idea of Mr. Chandos playing Cupid.

Robert was regarding Leonora with a frown.

“Was it some misplaced concern for Mr. Chandos that made you follow Desirée here?”

Leonora swallowed.  

Now that she was being forced to account for herself, she found that there was no way she could throw a favourable light on her behaviour.