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‘But she hasn’t come round yet?’ The hand that squeezed hers had a gentle, caring touch.
‘No, not as much as lifted an eyelid.’
Now would be the time to lift it, if she was able. In that moment she could not as much as moan.
Whose voice was that? Familiar and yet not. Oddly, it calmed her, warmed her. She desperately wanted to know whom it belonged to.
‘I believe, Dr Raymond, it is time to remove the lady to more suitable quarters,’ a woman’s voice said and not without censure.
Oh, dear, what unsuitable place was she currently occupying?
Wherever it was, she was still aboard the ship. Her queasy stomach was not mistaken in that.
‘Not yet,’ said the man holding her hand—Dr Raymond it had to be. ‘She’s done well here and I recommend she not be moved.’
Thank the good Lord. Moving anywhere in the moment seemed quite beyond her. Perhaps when she could manage to lift an eyelid, then she might be moved to more ‘suitable’ quarters.
For now she wanted to drift back to sleep. To hide awhile from seasickness and maybe listen again to that other comforting voice.
As confused as she was about things, Madeline thought the voice belonged to the person who must have rescued her from the lifeboat. Perhaps this was his room and that was why the woman rightly thought it was unsuitable for her to be here.
But where was the poor fellow sleeping? She prayed it was not in a life raft.
As soon as she recovered, and she now thought she might, she would find Grandfather and, once he forgave her, she would ask to have the generous fellow compensated for giving up his space.
Growing drowsy without ever having fully woken, she heard the women’s voices again. They seemed distant and displeased, although she could not tell why. Broken words came to her while she drifted down.
Common—not to be trusted, was it? Or trussed-up? Not a gentleman or a janitor.
Nothing made a bit of sense except falling asleep. The last thing she had any awareness of was of her hand being held.
Funny, how the texture of the hand holding hers changed. It was rougher now than before—the length of the fingers longer and the breadth of the palm wider.
‘Sleep now, angel.’ Ah, that comforting voice again. But perhaps she was already asleep and this was all a part of the dream. ‘We will discuss things in the morning. It will all be set right tomorrow.’
Bread. It was the last thing she saw before drifting off, or deeper. A loaf floated on the air between where she stood on deck and the entrance to the steerage dining room.
It was slightly after daybreak but hard to recognise the dawn because of dark clouds pressing the sea.
Walking towards the Captain’s office, Rees swore the grey sky leached into the ocean, made them look like one dreary expanse where there was no visible horizon.
He rapped smartly on the door, hoping the man was alone. It would not be easy to explain why a fellow from the fire room had left the furnaces to visit the ship’s Captain.
The door opened, letting out a whoosh of welcome heat and the scent of rich, dark coffee.
‘Good day, my lord.’ Captain Collier stood to one side by way of inviting him in. ‘Is something amiss? You look rather stormy.’
And why would he not look stormy? A man of his employ had left a helpless woman to the elements!
‘I am rather—more than rather.’
‘You’ve heard of the empty vessel, I assume. I only just discovered it myself.’
‘What vessel?’
The Captain indicated an empty chair with a nod of his head while pouring another cup of coffee, then handing it to Rees.
‘One of the men you hired to keep a lookout found an empty flask near the fire room. He asked around about it, but no one admitted knowing anything about it.’
‘They would not, I imagine.’ Rees stood up. The delicious bitterness of the coffee turned suddenly sour and he set the mug on the table. ‘Perhaps in the past drinking while on duty was overlooked. It will not be now.’
‘It might not have been a crew member. A passenger, perhaps, who wandered below decks so as not to be seen imbibing? I suggest we find the woman who tried to sneak on board.’ Collier pursed his mouth so tightly that his heavy grey moustache covered his bottom lip. ‘A stowaway is always the first we must suspect.’
‘The one you abandoned to fend for herself with an Atlantic storm brewing?’
‘Abandoned?’ Collier also rose. ‘I hardly did that. As pretty as she is, I imagine she found a place to sleep.’
‘She did, in fact—with me.’
‘I see. Well, you can trust that your private affair will not spread beyond this room. Just beware, my lord, a pretty face is the last to be suspected of wrongdoing.’
Heat pulsed in Rees’s chest, rolled in an angry flush up his neck.
‘I find it odd that she sought you out,’ Collier continued, tugging at his ear and apparently unaware of Rees’s ire. ‘I would venture that she knows who you are and—’
‘She did not seek me. I found her near death from exposure in a lifeboat.’ Rees clenched his fists behind his back. The last thing he needed to do was pummel the only Captain he had to man this ship.
At this, the Captain did have the good grace to look stunned.
‘I—I thought...’ The Captain sat down on his chair with a thud. ‘Why would she think that was a proper place?’
‘Why did you not find her one, Captain? As a soul aboard this ship she was your responsibility!’
He gulped several times. ‘I hope—that is—did she survive?’
‘Her death will not be on your conscience. I cannot say the same for her future happiness.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that you will report to my cabin at nine o’clock this evening to officiate my marriage to her.’
‘But, Lord Glenbrook! The woman is a commoner. I cannot help but wonder if she has sought you out for your title. Perhaps it is the reason she stowed away.’
He had assumed his Captain to be a smart fellow, but had he not heard a word of this conversation?
‘I hope you are more observant than it appears, Captain. Did you not notice earlier that the woman was being pursued by a man before she boarded? That even with that she gave away her ticket to someone else?’
The Captain stared dumbly at the wall past Rees’s shoulder, then the ceiling.
‘I’ll expect you promptly at nine.’
Rees stepped outside, took a deep breath of cold salty air before heading down to the belly of the ship.
What he ought to do was go back to his cabin, inform the lady of her destiny, but he still had a full day’s work in the boiler room.
If someone was drinking on their shift they might be inattentive to what they were doing. An accident could happen—an explosion would cripple the ship, cripple it in the middle of the ocean.
Perhaps he ought to turn about and go to his cabin. He did owe his future bride a warning of what was to come.
But he also owed her, and everyone else, a safe ship to cross the Atlantic on.
Besides, he doubted that the poor girl was recovered enough to accept the situation anyway.
He also doubted she would regard their nuptials as the divine deliverance it seemed to him.
Tonight would be soon enough to confront her with her future.
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