Masquerade (15 page)

“When will the rocking end?” Dora asked.

“When God says so. He’s the one in charge out ’ere.” She held the filled teacup for Dora and handed her a biscuit. “Just a little bite, like you’s a baby.”

Dora nibbled the cracker, then sipped the tea with the girl’s help.

“There now, that’ll help. Later, I’ll bring you ginger cookies. The cooks’re making a big batch. Ginger helps when people get the sickness.”

“Thank you … ?” Dora said.

“Annie.”

“Thank you, Annie.” She imagined all the other people who needed assistance. “I know you have many to help this morning. I’ll be all right now.”

“Oh, I’m glad to be ’ere with you, miss. When Fred asked someone to help you, I offered right off.”

“Why?”

“Because of the broken glass.”

Did all the servants know of her fiasco? “I made a mess. I’m so sorry. I—”

The maid shook her head. “No, miss. The mess ain’t it at all. It’s the fact you got down on the floor in your fancy dress and helped with the cleanup. We’ve ne’er seen a lady do that before.”

No one had. Which had been the problem.

“If you don’t mind me saying so, miss, you’re the talk of the ship. The Glass Lady, they’re calling you. News of a nice one of your kind spreads fast.” She suddenly put a hand to her mouth. “I don’t mean no offense, miss. I meant—”

Dora knew exactly what she meant. “It’s all right, Annie. I meant no offense to anyone either. The glass broke and I reacted without thinking.”

“You reacted from a kind heart. That’s what my kind are saying.” She lowered her voice even though they were alone in the cabin. “Oftener than not when something gets broke, we’re the ones ’oo get blamed, and no one lifts a finger to help or even looks up from their chatting.”

“It’s like you’re invisible.”

She smiled. “That’s it, miss. You’re a good one to understand like that. Why, you’d think you was once—”

The cabin door opened and Lottie entered. She took one look at the maid and huffed over to the bed. “Here, I’ll take that.” She took the cup of tea away. “You can go now.”

Annie bobbed at Lottie, then nodded to Dora. “You need anything, you just call. And I’ll bring you those cookies when they’re baked.”

“Thank you, Annie.”

As soon as the door clicked shut, Lottie set the teacup aside. “Annie?”

“She was kind, bringing me tea and biscuits.” She took another nibble of the cracker. “Did you know the servants on the ship call me the Glass Lady, and it’s
not
in a bad way? They think it’s wonderful I tried to help clean up the—”

“You should not get familiar with the servants, Dora. And you should certainly not take pride in being the subject of their gossip.”

“It’s not gossip. They simply appreciated that I helped and—”

“It doesn’t matter. You have to keep your place and make sure they know theirs.”

“But I understand what they go through. I—”

“You are no longer a servant. In the world’s eyes you are a lady, and you need to act like one.” Lottie thrust the teacup forward, making it slosh onto the saucer. “Here. Drink. I’ll take care of you.”

Of the two, Dora would have preferred Annie’s care.

Lottie returned from dinner to check on Dora. She opened the door to find a dozen notes pushed under it.

“What’s all—?”

Dora was sleeping. Lottie had expected to see her up. There were many more in attendance at dinner, as the seas had finally calmed. But obviously, Dora was worn out.

Lottie collected the envelopes and saw “Miss Connors” written upon each one. Notes asking after her health.

She felt the swell of jealousy rise anew.

In an attempt to counter it, she tiptoed to Dora’s side and adjusted the coverlet before exiting the room to join some acquaintances in the salon.

She passed a steward in the corridor and looked over her shoulder in time to see him slip yet another note under the cabin door.

Don’t do that!

Lottie started to walk toward the salon, but at the last moment detoured and walked through a door to the outer deck. She was accompanied by an inner argument.

Go to the salon and have a nice evening. Without Dora there, you’ve a chance to have every man in the room gather round
you
and—

She shook her head, dispelling the notion. If she were the only woman in the room, the men would not flock to her side.

Well, perhaps they would. But more than likely they would assemble amongst themselves and talk of politics or money. For what man truly liked to converse with a woman? Most did so out of duty, because it was expected. She couldn’t imagine any man chatting for the joy of it.

She couldn’t say she felt much joy in her meetings with men either. At home she’d attended balls for pleasure and with the goal of finding a husband. Of all the suitable men, Ralph had been the only one who’d incited true interest, but she had to admit that even he had not swept her away like the heroines in her beloved fiction. Where was her prince? Was he in America? Was he Conrad?

Lottie strolled along the outer deck, wrapping her shawl close. She let her gloved fingers skim the railing and was alone but for the occasional couple, linked arm in arm, their heads tilted toward one another in mutual admiration. When passing, Lottie turned toward the sea … the inconstant sea.

No. That wasn’t right.

The correct line from Shakespeare came to her:
O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, that monthly changes in her circled orb, lest that thy love prove likewise variable.

Inconstant moon …

She stopped walking and turned to the rail. Her eyes sought the moon and found it overhead and full.

Lottie disagreed with Shakespeare. She found the moon extremely constant. Yes, it changed in both position and orb, but it always
was.

At home she’d counted it a friend, but when they made the annual trip to London she often lost track of it as it hid behind buildings or clouds. Yet Lottie knew it was there if she chose to search for it. She had been the one remiss; the moon was steadfast and dedicated to its function. And now, as she watched it follow her overhead, she felt comfort in the idea that it would retain its constancy in America—if only she looked for it. The moon seemed to be leading her. Surely it would glow brightly over all the land and be the link between her old and new life. It would watch over her.

I’ll watch over you.

Lottie looked right, then left, as if the voice that had spoken was real.

And yet she knew it was not—not
real
in the sense of having been audible to anyone but herself.

She whispered the words, giving them reality. “I’ll watch over you.”

A warmth spread throughout her body, followed by a tingle, as if she had been touched—caressed—from within.

Lottie put a hand to her mouth and found tears far too close. “Please,” she whispered. “Do watch over me. Please do.”

She looked back at the moon. Its glowing ring pulsed as if responding to her attention. She repeated the words silently, prayerfully.

But then she heard a sound. Like a child crying. Lottie looked around, expecting to see a couple with a fussy child who didn’t want to go to bed. But she was alone on the deck.

The sound seemed to be coming from her left… .

Lottie moved toward it, toward some stairs leading to the decks below. At the bottom of the stair was a chain forbidding the lower-class passengers from gaining entry to the first-class deck. But there between herself and the chain sat a little boy. Crying.

She walked down the stairs. “Little boy? What’s wrong?”

He stopped his crying long enough to look up at her with pale eyes, a grubby face, and tousled blond hair. He looked to be four or five. “Do you know where me ma is?” he asked.

Lottie’s heart melted, and she sat on the step beside him. “No, I’m afraid I don’t.” She could tell by his clothes he wasn’t a child from first class. “Where was she when you last saw her?”

“Walking with me da. I was supposed to be asleep with me brother and sis, but I wanted to go with them. They walked too fast. I lost ’em.”

Lottie had no idea how to find his parents, and the thought of proceeding to the lower decks was not appealing. “What’s your name?”

“Sean.”

“What’s your last name?”

“O’Grady. I’m never going to find ’em, am I? They told me not to wander off, and I wasn’t wanderin’, I wanted to walk with ’em.” He began to cry again. “They’ll ne’er find me. They don’ e’en know I’m lost.”

Lottie put her arm around him. “Don’t cry, now. I’ll help you find
them
, all right?”

He sniffed loudly and began to wipe his nose with his sleeve. She stopped that motion and gathered a handkerchief from her purse. “Use this,” she said. Sean wiped his nose, then handed it back to her. “You keep it,” she said.

Then she noticed him shivering. “Where’s your coat?”

“I dunno.”

She removed her shawl and arranged it around his shoulders, tying it in front. “There. All better?”

“It’s a girl’s shawl.”

“Don’t complain, Mr. O’Grady. Maybe next time you venture out, you’ll remember your coat.” With the help of the railing she stood and held out her hand. “Come, now. Let’s go find your parents.”

At the bottom of the stairs, Lottie unhooked the chain and let it dangle. She and Sean walked aft, toward what she hoped would be a main deck.

Unlike the few strollers on deck in first class, many people were out and about on this level, taking a smoke, talking, even a few necking in the shadows. She approached one group after another, asking, “Do you know this boy? Do you know the O’Gradys?” She received odd looks and responses in languages beyond her comprehension. Didn’t anyone speak English?

She also received many a look of another kind, glares from head to toe, judging her. Unlike the appreciative looks of the men on her own deck, these looks were either unfriendly or vulgar. She was an intruder into their world, and they didn’t like it.

Neither did she.

Lottie walked faster, wanting to find Sean’s parents and get back to first class, where she belonged. She was surprised to see that many a grouping had made a fire in a pot and were gathered round it for warmth.

Suddenly Sean shouted, “Ma!”

A woman and man turned toward the sound, and their eyes grew wide. The woman captured Sean as he wrapped his arms around her skirt. “Whatcha doin’ outta bed, boy?”

“We told you to stay put.”

“I wanted to walk with ya.”

Mrs. O’Grady looked at Lottie for the first time. “You found ’im?”

“He was crying on the stairway.”

Softening to her son, she caressed his hair. “There, there, now, Seany. We’ve got ya now.”

The father saw the shawl and took it off Sean. “This be yours, I assume?”

“He was cold.” She realized it was a stupid thing to say.

Mr. O’Grady took off his own jacket and put it on his son. “We thank ya for taking care of ’im.”

Lottie nodded. “I’ll be going now.”

“Wait!” Mrs. O’Grady took a step toward her. “Get yerself warm first. Come sit by our fire.”

The idea was absurd.

But Mrs. O’Grady took her hand and pulled her toward the grouping.

Lottie sat on a crate amid a crowd of a dozen.

“I loves yer dress,” one woman said.

“Thank you.”

“A lady I worked for ’ad dresses like that.”

Lottie wasn’t sure how to respond. “You were in service?”

“Twenty years. But enough of that. I’m going to the New World to ’ave me own house ’n’ me own business.”

There were nods all around, and Lottie was truly interested. “What kind of business would that be?”

“Don’ know fer sure, but I ken sew and cook with the best of ’em. Maybe a bakery. I make a mean berry pie.”

The man beside her patted his ample belly. “Don’ I know it.”

“What’re you planning to do in America?” a man asked Lottie.

“Sit around and be pretty,” another man answered.

Lottie felt herself blush and was glad for the darkness of the night. She knew that with one sentence she could silence them, tell them she was marrying one of the richest heirs in America. Yet instead she said, “I’m not sure what I’m going to do. I’m supposed to marry a man I’ve never met, but I’m having second thoughts.”

Mrs. O’Grady sat beside her with Sean upon her lap. “Me Gregory and me’ve been married ten years.” She looked up at her husband. “He’s me other self.”

“What a lovely thought,” Lottie said. And before she could contain the words, she added, “I envy you. All of you.”

There was laughter all around. “You? Envy us?”

She knew it must sound ridiculous—it was ridiculous. She, who sat among them in a dress that cost more than the whole of them made in a year, with a future dripping with wealth and social standing beyond measure, envied
them
? “Perhaps we’re not as different as we look,” she offered.

The first woman laughed. “Then gimme your dress and I’ll give ya mine.”

Lottie brushed a hand over the satin of her skirt. “I’d give it all up for a chance to truly love and be loved and to have a real purpose.”