Chapter 9
With the rest of the afternoon before me in a boring stretch, I decided to wait for Cristina in her cabin. I eased myself into her room and prepared to thank her for her advice, confident that she would be thrilled to hear about our reconciliation.
I should have knocked.
There was a lanky figure standing by the fireplace. Just as he whirled around to face me Cristina emerged from her bedroom, freezing mid-step when she saw me. They both glanced at each other furtively, but the flash of panic in their eyes was apparent. There was an astonished moment of silence before Cristina spoke up.
“This is Elliott.” She stated simply, avoiding my gaze. I nodded politely at the young man, who looked no older than I was. He had a thick, silky mane of blonde hair and eyes that reminded me of green olives. He cleared his throat awkwardly and nodded back at me firmly, giving Cristina a weary glance before striding out of the cabin. As soon as the door shut, my mouth opened.
"Who was that?" I blurted cynically, pointing over my shoulder at the door.
Cristina blinked. “I just said his name was Elliott.”
Questions starting pouring out of my mouth before I could stop them. “When did you meet him? He was dressed in uniform, is he part of the crew?” My incessant questions stopped when Cristina started chuckling.
“I met him three days ago. And yes, he’s one of the watchmen.” As she spoke about him, her eyes green eyes started to glow like emeralds. A breathless smile overtook her face, even though she’d been standing in the same place for minutes.
“Do you like him?”
“Jesus, Ophelia, I hardly know him.” I chuckled nervously at her disbelieving face.
“Well, he doesn’t seem like your usual type…” Cristina was infamous and blatant in her pursuits with men. She is proud of her unabashed actions: some people accuse her of not having morals, but Cristina explains that the only difference is that she doesn’t try to sweep her dirt under the rug. The only thing her men had in common were there large bank balances, something Elliott evidently didn’t have.
“I suppose you’re right. But he’s good company.” I arched an eyebrow suggestively.
“He’s good talking company.” She amended, enunciating her words so forcefully it almost sounded like she was telling. “He’s hardworking and honest to a fault. I like that about him. But enough about me, how did it go with Henry?”
I thought of our words, his kisses, and the tender way in which he held me. “It went better than I even thought. I think we’re together now.” Cristina took in the silly smile on my face and looked at me warmly.
“I’m not surprised. It’s obvious you two are still in love. I’m surprised you didn’t tear each other’s clothes off by now.” And then something felt amiss. Annabelle wasn’t here. Where Cristina was lewd and inappropriate, Anna was soothing and proper. The lack of balance was almost palpable.
“Have you seen Anna?” Cristina lit up like a light.
“Well,” she started, like she had a really good story to tell. “While you were cavorting around with the Duke-”
“Hey!” I protested. True to her character, she ignored me entirely.
“-I happened to have some time on my hands. Haven’t you noticed how Annabelle keeps disappearing?” Like an open book flipping in front of me I remembered when Anna had suddenly left me on deck. Cristina noted my hesitance.
“Again, you were cavorting around with the Duke-” I gave her a reproaching look.
“Anna’s been spending a lot of time ‘in the library’. Now I understand she’s a bookworm, but if she’s been reading as much as she claims to be I would’ve thought she’d gone blind by now.” She said dryly.
“So I followed her once.” I glanced at her in accusation and surprise.
“You spied on her? I take it for you to follow her around like a lost puppy must’ve taken a lot of boredom.” She addressed me with a playful, lingering smile, like she knew something I didn’t.
“When I followed her, I found her kissing someone…quite heatedly, I might add.” My face went slack in astonishment. She smiled triumphantly at my reaction.
“Are we speaking about the same Anna? Who was she kissing?” Cristina leaned forward like she was about to tell me a really important secret, and my figure mirrored hers subconsciously.
“Vincent Smith.”
“Vincent Smith?” I gasped and nearly shrieked and the same time. She nodded at me smugly. Vincent Smith was the rake of high society. He’s relatively new money, with his family building a fortune in mining dating a couple of generations back. His exotic bronzed looks make most parents detest him, but girls love it. That, combined with his cavalier manner of throwing money around and bedding women, makes him subject of idle rumors and frequent scandals. Every young man longs to be him, and every lady dreams to ensnare him. He leaves a trail of broken hearts everywhere he goes, not that the ladies seem to mind.
“Do...do you think he would hurt her?” Cristina thought about my question and fiddled with her hair absentmindedly.
“Rumor has it that the only pain he causes is the good kind, so I wouldn’t worry.” She answered wickedly, winking at me. I rolled my eyes in exasperation.
“I’m serious, Cristina. Do you not care about Anna at all? Vincent doesn’t seem to have much consideration where women are concerned.”
Cristina became somber as she answered. “I think this will be good for her. How many times do you think she’s enjoyed the attention of a man?” She took my silence as permission to continue. “I reckon never. She deserves to feel beautiful, unlike her family treats her. Considering the brute she has for a brother and father, I’m sure Vincent will be more than good for her. Besides, as vulnerable as she appears to be, she’s a strong woman. Otherwise I doubt she’d be able to last in her situation at all. She doesn’t need us meddling.” As much as I hated to admit it, she did have a point. Annabelle deserved something to look forward to, even if it came in the form of a dangerous philanderer. The subject faded away as we chatted idly before going our separate ways.
Tonight’s dinner had been much better than it was the past nights. Instead of having a stiff, quiet meal with Royce and his daughter, we sat at a large table with a variety of people. Henry and his friends (including Vincent) came together for a youthful evening, leaving all the chaperones at other tables. Fortunately Annabelle and Cristina were there also there with me, so I never felt out of company. Taking a quick glance around the crowded table, my eyes quickly settled on Annabelle. Her faced was more flushed than usual, and her eyes were bright...she was happy. Cristina, who was sitting beside me, followed my gaze and leaned in.
“She looks content, doesn’t she?”
I nodded. “I haven’t seen her this happy in a long time.” Cristina agreed quietly and went back to eating with renewed enthusiasm. Stanley was sitting on my other hand, taking hasty gulps from his wine and continuously refilling his glass. Henry was sitting somewhere across from me, and Penelope had somehow managed to tag along and sit beside him.
I bit back a wave of annoyance as Penelope subtly placed her hand on Henry’s arm. He eased her away absentmindedly and continued to eat, completely absorbed in something Vincent was saying. I tried to bite back a victorious grin at Penelope’s rejection but barely succeeded, receiving a curious glance from Cristina. Inconspicuously, I rolled my eyes in Penelope’s direction. Cristina caught on soon enough and gave me a conspiratorial glance while grinning craftily.
“Say, Henry, how is your fiancée?” Henry froze mid-sip and looked like a deer in the headlights. From the corner of my eye, I could see Penelope drop her spoon in surprise. I held back a reluctant chuckle at her panicked reaction and gave Cristina a warning glance.
Henry looked at Cristina cautiously before answering. “I-I don’t have a fiancée at the moment.” He said uncertainly, making his statement sound more like a question. Cristina pretended to suddenly recall something and clapped her hands to
gether in remembrance.
“That’s right, I forgot about Estefania. Forgive me for the mistake.” Henry nodded and accepted her phony apology. Penelope suddenly perked up, the color finally returning to her face.
“Oh, Estefania was the worst. After what she did to Henry.” She said indulgently, shaking her head in disapproval. Her fierce defense of Henry was starting to make her look like an over-eager lap-dog.
“Well, she can’t be worse than other girls he’s known. At least she doesn’t throw herself at him.” I said slyly, casually continuing to eat even after most movement at the table had ceased.
My comment wasn’t directed at Penelope deliberately, but it might as well have been. Her face was flushed with embarrassment and she avoided everyone’s eyes by staring at her lap. Henry met my gaze and arched an eyebrow curiously, silently inquiring about my behavior. The table remained in awkward silence until Annabelle spoke up softly.
“Maybe we should ask Vincent, he seems to have plenty of experience in that area.” She teased, grinning as his friends broke out in uproarious laughter. Vincent looked at her in lazy bemusement and shrugged.
“I don’t think I’ll be of much help on that; I’ve been labeled more of a skirt-chaser as of late.” He murmured amusedly, staring deeply at Anna as he replied to her jibe. I shot her a grateful look for speaking up and she responded by nodding imperceptibly.
“I told you Vincent was good for Annabelle. When was the last time you heard her make a joke in public?” Cristina whispered, still advocating on Vincent’s behalf. It was true, though. Annabelle is beginning to change little by little, starting with her confidence. It was long overdue, considering that Annabelle’s peaches-and-cream complexion made her stand out beautifully. She was truly stunning. I grumbled an agreement at Cristina as the last course was served. I took small bites off my plate, but I was absolutely bursting with food. The fact that my corset was restraining me abdomen wasn’t helping, either.
Dinner finished uneventfully, something that at this point I was thankful for. I sat on my bed reading a book I had borrowed earlier. No better thing to fall asleep than Shakespeare. A soft knock on the door interrupted Romeo’s soliloquy.
“Come in.” A familiar first-class maid, Elaine, poked her head through the door and looked around my room hesitantly.
“Is there anything I could help you with?” Elaine walked through the door and closed it slowly, strolling in front of the bed and fishing something out of her crisp white apron. She produced a folded piece of paper and handed it to me.
“This is for you, miss.” Plucking the paper from her hand, I failed to find any form of signature.
“Who is this from?” The young girl looked around my cabin once again dubiously, searching for the presence of another person.
“There’s no one here.” I assured her.
“Very well, then. It’s from the Duke.” I nodded appreciatively, understanding her secrecy. She excused herself promptly and left me alone to open his letter.
Ophelia,
I was planning to pay you a visit after dinner, but I seem to be under observation from your mother. Thankfully there are only a few days until we land in New York. Lord, give me patience.
Love
Henry.
I committed his writing to memory by tracing over each letter carefully. Part of me was surprised I even agreed to Henry’s proposition at all. But seeing things like this only reminded of how much more he could give me. Perhaps I was losing everything by planning to leave my family, but I knew that I was gaining even more with Henry. He loved me, even when others couldn’t.
Regretfully, keeping the letter would only put our plan at risk. No, it was better to destroy any evidence of our renewed...affections. With a reluctant sigh, I paced to the blazing fireplace and chucked the letter inside of it. The crisp white paper was instantly ablaze, burning in hues of blue and orange. I continued to stare at the fireplace until there was no trace of paper, only ashes. Satisfied, I crawled back to bed and dimmed the lights, sleeping with a smile firmly etched on my face.
Morning came around faster than I expected, and I found Mother wearily looming over me as she awoke me.
“Why did you wake me up so early?” I asked groggily.
“We’re attending the church service this morning.” She explained, ignoring my pained grunt.
“Why? We hardly ever go to church.” Mother abided by the morals of the church, but she wasn’t exactly...enthusiastic about it.
“Precisely. God forbid a rumor about us being Protestants.” The windows were opened abruptly, bathing the room in blinding sunlight and refreshing breeze.
I rose from bed and prepared like a sleepwalker, stiffly stepping into my clothes and poking myself three times before I managed to get my earrings clasped.
“What is the matter with you this morning?” Mother exclaimed, helping put on my gloves after I had slipped them on inside-out.
“Well it’s not like I’ve got a full night’s rest now, did I?” I retorted blearily, trying to crank my swollen, sleepy eyes open. Mother ignored me with a huff, slipping on her gloves and barely remembering to fetch her bible.
“Oh yes, don’t forget your bible. God forbid people thinking you’re a Protestant.” I mocked annoyingly. No one knew how fussy I was when I was tired better than my mother. I almost felt bad for her.
Almost.
“You’re insufferable this morning. But I’m warning you now, Ophelia, you must be on your best behavior!” She shrilled, clasping a hand around my arm and dragging me out of our cabin.