Voyage in Time: The Titanic (Out of Time #9) Page 9

  She gave him a small salute, picked up her coffee, shoved the toast into her mouth and headed for the bath.

  The bathroom in their parlor suite was large and luxurious, certainly for the standards of the day, and definitely compared to the many shared baths even First Class passengers endured.

  Even so, it was a little odd. The countertop was marble but cramped by enormous exposed pipes. It was one of the few areas on the ship where its slip was showing. For all the amenities and advancements, they still had a ways to go on how to hide the pipes.

  Elizabeth took another sip of coffee and then stared at the taps for the bath and shower. They were mounted on the edge of a large box that hung along the partition enclosing the shower portion of the bath. That was fine, but there were four of them—two very large and two normal sized. It took her a moment to realize why. The larger two were for hot and cold salt water. Not great for a shower, but she was definitely drawing a salty bath later.

  Half an hour later and she was dressed and nearly ready to go. Her hair could have used a wash, but without a blow dryer it took forever and a day to dry, so it would have to wait until tonight or tomorrow if she could squeeze another day out of it.

  She was just about to head up to A Deck when another wave of nausea hit her. She scrounged through everything the Council had provided and there was nothing for seasickness. There had to be a doctor on board, though. Now, if she just knew where.

  She walked out onto the landing by the grand staircase and saw a young ship’s officer on his way down.

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” she said, “but can you tell me where the doctor’s office is? I’m feeling a little unwell.”

  He smiled kindly. “I can do better than that. I’m on my way there myself. Would you like me to send him up?”

  She shook her head. “Just an upset stomach.”

  He held out his hand gesturing down the stairs. They made small talk as they walked. Harold, as it turned out, not only had a headache, but he was the Deputy Radio Officer.

  She scoured her brain for the proper technology of the time. “Telegraph?”

  “Yes.”

  “I bet you were busy when we first left. ‘Dear Aunt Judy, I’m on the Titanic.’ Dear Uncle Fizzpott—”

  He laughed. “Very. And we still are.”

  He led her down one of the long corridors on C Deck.

  “Really?” Elizabeth hadn’t thought much about it, but it made sense. It was the texting of its day, although a little more expensive.

  “Yes,” he said. “There’s even one couple that sends the same message. Twice a day. ‘The weather is nice.’ Now, why would someone spend twenty-four shillings a day for that?”

  The hairs on Elizabeth’s neck prickled. That sounded like spy talk. “That is strange. That’s all it says?”

  Edmund nodded in agreement. “That’s all. People do send odd messages, but that one ….” He shook his head. “Here we are.”

  Just as Elizabeth was going to try to get more information, the door to the doctor’s office opened and a man who looked like he stepped off the set of HMS Pinafore appeared. He stepped aside to let an older woman leave his office.

  He smiled at her and then noticed his new arrivals. “Hello. Another headache?” he asked Harold.

  “A small one.”

  The doctor frowned but gestured for Elizabeth to go into his office. He grabbed a bottle of aspirin and gave it to Harold. “You can buy your own, you know.”

  Harold held up the bottle. “Yours do a better job.”

  The doctor humphed in reply. Harold said his goodbyes and the doctor closed the door.

  “And so what can I do for you, Mrs. …?”

  “Cross. Just an upset stomach.”

  “Well, then we’ll fix you up in a jiffy.”

  He was very kind and gave her some bicarbonate of soda and charcoal powder to be taken after every meal.

  After taking some of the former and throwing out the latter, she found Simon up on A Deck. Together, they found Niels watching a smaller boat approach.

  “Where are we?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Ireland,” Simon said as they joined Niels by the railing. “Delivering mail and a few passengers by tender.”

  Niels turned to them. “Good morning.”

  “Thank you for meeting with us.”

  Niels inclined his head and then turned back to watch the smaller boat maneuver alongside the Titanic.

  “As a physicist, I tend to believe that coincidence is merely an illusion, the product of some occurrence we do not yet understand. And here I stand,” he said with a small smile, “not understanding.”

  Elizabeth glanced at Simon. This was Niels’ way of demanding an explanation. She hoped theirs would float.

  “How is it you appeared in Cambridge when I myself didn’t know that until a day before I would be there? How is it you were there on the river just at the right moment? How is it you are here, now?”

  Simon considered his questions before answering. “I realize that our happening to be in all of these places stretches the bounds of credulity.”

  “To the point of breaking,” Niels said. “You have been good to me. You have kept my secret. You have taken care of me. You have saved my life. What I don’t understand is why.”

  “Believe it or not, you are an important man.”

  He laughed. “I am not. Rutherford. Thomson. Dozens of others. These are important men.”

  Elizabeth put a hand on his arm. “The people we work for believe otherwise. And they think that your meeting—”

  Niels blanched at the word.

  “Is important as well,” she finished.

  Bohr frowned. “You know a great deal more about me than I do about you.”

  Simon made sure no one else was near enough to overhear them. “We’ve been sent here on a mission by the Secretary, SSB, to protect you, to ensure you make your mysterious meeting.”

  “To protect me?”

  “Yes, from men like our German friend.”

  Niels nodded. “So far I’m thankful you are better at your job than I am at mine.” He looked at them in turn. “But why me?”

  “We don’t know,” Simon lied. He was very good at it. Elizabeth almost believed him. “Need to know and all that.”

  “And all you need to know,” Elizabeth said, “is that we’re on your side. Really.”

  Thankfully, he looked like he believed that much at least.

  “A husband and wife team of government agents?”

  Simon shrugged. “No one pays much mind to a married couple. Good cover.”

  “We’ll look after you.”

  Niels nodded. “And you think there are others. Not just our German friend, but others on board?”

  “Possibly.”

  He shook his head in disbelief and looked around at the other passengers on the deck. “They seem so unlikely.”

  “They always do.”

  Simon and Elizabeth found the Sheridans waiting for them in the reception room by the aft grand staircase.

  “Cross,” the big man said, extending his hand as they approached. Introductions were made and they went into the café.

  Café Parisian was one of the several restaurants on board that were in addition to the main dining room, snuggled along the starboard side of B Deck near the aft part of the ship. Twenty or so small rattan tables sat in a charming, long, thin, sun-lit veranda. Intricate French-styled trellises with ivy and other dangly plants framed the rows of large windows on either side of the room, giving diners a perfect view of the a la carte restaurant next door or the water to the other side.

  It was a slice of Paris on the ocean, complete with French waiters.

  They’d just sat down when a young woman and a girl approached their table.

  Robert Sheridan put down his menu, clearly annoyed. “Miss McBride.”

  “I’m sorry to bother you, sir, but she wanted to ask if she could go for a swim.”

  Sheri
dan frowned and the young woman hastily added. “I told her she couldn’t, but she insisted I ask you again.”

  The little girl, no more than seven or eight years old, came forward. “Daddy, I—”

  Mr. Sheridan held up a finger and she fell silent and moved back behind her nanny’s skirts. He looked at the girl with stern disapproval and then turned to Miss McBride.

  “We discussed this, did we not?”

  Miss McBride clasped her hands in front of her. “Yes.”

  “Was I unclear?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Good.” He took a sip of water. “Come here, Emily.”

  Obediently, but reluctantly, the girl did as he asked.

  “We had an agreement, didn’t we?” He dipped his head down to force his daughter to look him in the eye. “Hmm?”

  The girl met his eyes but chewed on her lower lip as she nodded.

  “And we don’t go back on our word, do we?”

  She shook her head.

  “Good.” He squeezed her arm none too gently from the looks of it. “Now, you go back to the rooms and no more of this nonsense. Are we clear?”

  The poor little girl gave him a shaking nod and looked to her mother for support, but none was coming.

  “Go on, dear,” Louise said. “I’ll come by after lunch. We’ll read.”

  The girl perked up, gave her a small smile and then walked away from the table followed closely by Miss McBride.

  Sheridan watched them go with disapproval. He shook out his napkin and gave a deep sigh. “I’m sorry about that.”

  Simon’s expression was hard. “So am I.”

  If Sheridan noticed the edge in Simon’s voice, he didn’t show it. Instead, he grinned and said, “I hear the salmon’s good.”

  ~~~

  Elizabeth managed a half smile for Mrs. Sheridan and waved as the couple walked away down the deck after lunch.

  “Pillock.”

  Elizabeth knew there was something about Sheridan that Simon didn’t like and now she knew what. Aside from the way he treated his daughter, there was the way he treated his wife, the waiters, everyone but them. And, she was sure, Sheridan would get around to that eventually.

  When he wasn’t lording it over the staff, he was bragging about his place with Bethlehem Steel. Worst yet, he was a nationalist to the point of jingoism. Belligerent, aggressive, xenophobic—the worst the world had to offer. But none of that was what made Elizabeth feel sick.

  “We’re never dining with them again,” Simon said.

  “It’s a small ship.”

  “I held my tongue for his wife’s sake, but I cannot guarantee I’ll be as restrained next time.”

  She took his arm. “You were very good.”

  He looked down at her curiously. “And you were very quiet.”

  She shrugged. “It wouldn’t do any good and probably just make things worse.”

  “Worse?”

  “For Louise. Emily.”

  Simon clearly hadn’t thought of that, his eyebrows went up in surprise then drew together in anger. Sheridan was exactly the sort of man to take out his frustrations on them. Simon’s jaw, which must have been close to cramping from all of the clenching it did during lunch, started up again.

  Elizabeth squeezed his arm. “I know. Believe me, I know. I’ll talk to Louise later, see if there’s anything we can do.”

  Simon pushed out a breath. “How could a man treat his child that way? As nothing more than a nuisance?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. She couldn’t fathom it either. But it wasn’t the way he treated Emily that haunted her thoughts. It was the mere fact that she was here.

  “I didn’t think about the children,” she said.

  Simon looked at her in confusion.

  “When we first decided to come on board, I knew it would be hard, but I didn’t think about …”

  Understanding dawned in his eyes. “It is difficult,” he said in classic Simony understatement.

  It was unsettling enough to know that most of the men and women around them would die in four days, but the children? Children like Emily, maybe even Emily. That wasn’t just hard to accept, it was nearly impossible.

  Simon put his arm around her. He started to say something but cleared his throat first. When he did speak his voice was thick. “I know.”

  He held her for a moment before easing away. “But we can’t focus on that. We have to focus on what we’re here to do, who we can help.”

  She knew he was right. Every trip back in time was filled with people who were no longer living. But …

  “You’re right,” she said and shook off his concerned look. “You are. It just sort of hit me all of a sudden.”

  “And it probably will again,” he said, “and again, before we see this through.”

  They walked over to the railing just as the last tender was pulling away and heading back for the shore.

  “It’s the same every time we go back, isn’t it?” he said, echoing her thoughts. “In San Francisco, the earthquake was coming. Disaster looming.”

  The engines whirred beneath them as the great ship got underway again. Through the haze, she could just make out Ireland and knew it would be the last land they would see before the end.

  “But this is different,” she said.

  The rugged shore drifted past as the ship moved along the coast. In a few hours, it would turn out to the open sea.

  “Yes,” Simon said. “It is.”

  ~~~

  They stood at the railing watching the shore in the distance until the wind picked up and the temperature started to fall.

  “Should we find Niels?” Simon asked.

  Elizabeth agreed and they started their circle of the Boat Deck in search of him. He had the habit of walking as he thought and circuits of the top deck were his new favorite occupation.

  They’d nearly reached the end of the First Class promenade when a gust of wind came and Elizabeth nearly lost her hat.

  “Maybe we should go inside?” Simon offered.

  “I got it.”

  She clamped the broad-brimmed hat down on her head with one hand and tried to reposition the hat pin with the other, hopefully without giving herself a lobotomy.

  She poked it through the fabric once and then again. That should do it.

  She let go and it stayed. “See?”

  Just then another strong gust came and it flew off.

  Simon watched it float away in the wind. “Yes.”

  Of all the hats she’d brought, that was her favorite. The wind suddenly died and it fell to the deck.

  “Come on,” she said and gathered up her skirts to give chase.

  The wind caught it again and it floated away. Then, just as suddenly, it dropped down again to the deck and danced along. It nearly struck a strolling couple but slipped between them. The woman shrieked as it rolled past.

  “Sorry,” Elizabeth said as she chased after it.

  Simon came to her side. “Elizabeth.”

  “There it goes.”

  The hat flipped along and then tumbled down the stairs to the Second Class promenade below. She hurried after it, as quickly as her dress and the stairs would allow.

  “For God’s sake, be careful.”

  When she reached the deck she saw that the hat had gotten hung up in a piece of rigging. If it would just stay stuck ….

  She nearly got to it when another gust came and sent it toward the railing, but just before it went overboard a hand snatched it from the air.

  Edmund, the man who’d saved her from falling down the stairs.

  He looked at the hat curiously then smiled as he saw her approach.

  “I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he said.

  “Again?” Simon asked.

  “Nice catch,” she said.

  His grin broadened but then vanished as he saw two stewards climbing down the stairs.

  “Sorry again,” he said and shoved her hat toward her.

  He t
ook off toward the door to the lower decks, but another steward was just emerging there. He was caught and he knew it. He held up his hands in front of him.

  “All right,” one of the stewards says. “Let’s see your papers.”

  “What’s going on?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Stowaway.”

  From the look on Edmund’s face, it was true.

  The higher ranking steward ordered one of the others to take him down to the hold. Instantly, Elizabeth had visions of him locked up in a tiny room far below deck. It would be a death sentence.

  “Edmund?”

  “You know this man?” the steward asked.

  Elizabeth hesitated, but only for a moment. “Of course I do. Cousin Edmund, have you been toying with these men?”

  Edmund looked at her in confusion then slowly nodded. “Yes?”

  She put her hand on the steward’s arm. “I’m sorry. He thinks he’s being funny. But he’s not.”

  The steward was confused and so was Edmund, but the light was dawning. “I’m sorry … Cousin Elizabeth.”

  She smiled kindly at him and then leaned in to speak conspiratorially with the steward. “His mother wasn’t right.” She flashed her eyes and wound her finger in circles around her temple.

  Edmund nearly laughed, but managed not to.

  The steward nodded but looked to Simon for confirmation because, of course, a man’s word mattered more than hers.

  “Do you know this man?”

  Elizabeth stared at Simon, willing him to play along. He eyed her and then Edmund before turning to the steward. “I’m afraid I do. Cousin Edmund, what have you been up to?”

  Edmund looked like he was having trouble believing just what was happening. “I was just joking. Playing a game.”

  Elizabeth jumped in. “He didn’t mean any harm. We’ll pay for any damages.”

  Simon frowned but nodded. “Yes. Of course. Sir Simon Cross, B-51.”

  Elizabeth wasn’t sure if the steward believed them or not, but it was clear from the way he stood a little straighter at either Simon’s name or the suite number that he was in no position to argue with a First Class passenger. “He’s with you, sir?”

  Elizabeth begged Simon silently. He sighed and nodded. “He is.”

  The steward ordered his men to release Edmund and then approached Simon and said in a hushed voice, “You’ll make sure, sir, that he doesn’t do anything like this again?”