She led me to the third class stairs, back down to F-Deck. She rapped lightly on her cabin door.
“Mary, are you asleep?” she called. There was no answer.
Bridget swung the door open and flipped on the light.
“She ran off again!” she laughed. “Oh, Mary. She met a boy in the smoking room our first night on board, and she’s been sneaking down to the boys’ cabins to see him. I hope they don’t catch her.”
She turned back to me. “Then again, I’m not allowed to have you in my bunk, either,” she said with a raised eyebrow.
I had never been inside a girl’s bedroom before, aboard a ship or elsewhere. I could feel myself blushing.
“Well, shut the door before someone sees you!” she said.
I stepped inside. It was a cramped cabin. The only amenities were a wash basin and two sets of bunks. It was a far cry from my elegant stateroom in first class.
“Mary and I share this bunk,” she said, motioning to the right side of the room. “Two other girls sleep over there, but they don’t speak English.”
She reached under the lower bunk and pulled out a soft bundle.
“I packed some of Jim’s clothes,” Bridget said. “Before you come down here again, put this jacket on. Pull the hat over your hair.”
I opened the package. Inside were worn clothes and a threadbare cap, the same kind Jim had been wearing tonight. They smelled of smoke.
“You’re right,” I said. “No one will recognize me in this.” Besides Jim, I thought, who will probably flip his lid at the sight of me wearing his clothes.
There were women’s voices outside the door.
“It’s the other bunkmates,” Bridget said. “Go! Send me a message through the stewards. I’ll send one back as quick as I can.” She opened the door and gave me a light shove. I nearly collided with two Scandinavian women, who looked baffled by my presence.
“Excuse me, ladies,” I said in a language they couldn’t understand. I brushed past them and hurried back up the stairs.
The gate was locked, and the hallway was empty. I’d have to get back through the deck. I found my way outside and up the stairs to the promenade, where I climbed over the gate that read, in bold letters: “No third class passengers allowed beyond this point.”
As soon as I steadied myself on the deck, I felt someone grab me by the collar.
“I saw that.”
It was Charles. He glowered at me, tightening his grip until I grabbed his wrist and thrust it away.
“Saw what?” I asked angrily.
“I sent you down there to get my property, not to stand around on the steerage deck making eyes at her,” he snarled.
“It sounds like you made more than eyes at her,” I replied. I thought of what Jim had called him, and it made my skin crawl: that dirty old man.
For a moment I braced myself for a fistfight. I wouldn’t be sucker-punched this time, like I was by Jim.
“Where’s the letter?”
“She doesn’t have it,” I replied. “She says it’s in her brother’s cabin. There’s no getting around him, Charles. He wants the money first.”
“We’ll see about that,” he said. His tone became accusatory. “I don’t think you understand the seriousness of this situation, John.”
“Oh, I do,” I said. “You’ve been selling bad steel. And they put it in the Titanic.”
Charles was simmering with rage. I instinctively clenched my fists again, holding them at my sides.
“The steel I’ve been selling?” Charles replied. “As far as anyone’s concerned, in a few years’ time, it’s the steel you’ve been selling. You’re my successor. What do you have without me? Who pays your tuition, John?”
I bit my lip for a second, not sure how to proceed. On one hand, I was tired of being pushed around by him. On the other, I was afraid he would take his anger out on Mother.
“I offered to make the exchange tomorrow,” I said. “Five thousand isn’t much in order to save Lake Erie Steel from ruin.”
Charles narrowed his eyes, thinking.
“Let me decide that,” he replied carefully. “I’ll see what Anton and I can come up with.”
“Alright.”
“And one more thing, John,” he said. “Don’t get any stupid ideas. No future president of Lake Erie Steel is going to be down in steerage getting starry-eyed over that trash.”
“Goodnight, Charles,” I said, turning my back to him.
* * *
The air on the Boat Deck was freezing, but the wind didn’t blow. I wondered how fast the Titanic was going. Twenty knots, maybe. At this rate, we would be in New York by Tuesday.
And then I’d be out of time.
I wondered if my life would ever return to normal after this voyage. I thought of my friends back at Oberlin, who might be taking a break from studying with a bottle of gin tonight. I began to long for the times when my biggest worry was an upcoming exam. What would happen if Lake Erie Steel met a scandalous demise?
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of laughter. I looked over my shoulder to see who else was crazy enough to be out in the cold. It was a man and a woman from first class—I could see the length of the woman’s expensive-looking red dress underneath a black fur coat.
“I can’t see the stars in Cleveland,” a familiar voice said. “The lights from the city burn too brightly.”
“Faye?” I exclaimed, shocked that she was out at this hour…with a man. As her companion stepped into the light, I could see his face clearly.
It was Rudy.
“John!” Faye cried, gathering her composure as soon as she saw me. “What are you doing out here?”
“I’m avoiding my stepfather,” I replied. “But I was wondering the same thing about you.”
Faye’s alabaster skin was now the color of her dress. I’d stumbled upon a furtive outing. It was obvious that Mrs. LaRoe didn’t know Faye was missing from her stateroom. She’d have a conniption if she knew her daughter was with that creepy German.
“Have you met Rudy Gottlieb?” Faye asked.
“Yes, I’ve met John,” Rudy answered for me. “We played blackjack together in the smoking room.” He didn’t mention our encounter in the Grand Staircase.
“I didn’t know you two were…friends,” I said. Maybe Max had been right, and Rudy’s only motivation for meeting me was to get closer to her.
Faye looked at me shamefacedly. “You’re not going to tell anyone, are you?” she asked.
“Your secret’s safe with me,” I replied. “No one knows I’m out here, either.”
“By the way, John, I seem to have startled you in the Grand Staircase last night,” Rudy said with a conciliatory smile. “My apologies.” He sounded sincere for once.
“No apologies needed,” I said. “But if you don’t mind, I’m going to go back inside. Goodnight, Faye.”
“Wait,” Rudy replied. He stepped away from Faye. “Can we talk tomorrow?”
“Sure,” I said. What did it matter if I agreed or not? He seemed to show up wherever I went. “What is it about?”
Rudy glanced around to make sure no one else was listening. Then, he leaned in and murmured, “Your stepfather.”
Five
The next morning, I went to find the steward, Mr. Bowen.
“I need to deliver a message to someone,” I said.
“Yes, of course,” he replied, disinterested despite my urgent tone. “Do you have their cabin number? If not, I can look it up for you.”
“F-28,” I said. “It’s third class.”
Mr. Bowen cocked an eyebrow.
“Very well, then,” he said, pretending not to be curious. “Write it on here.”
I took the stationery adorned with White Star Line’s logo. Meet me at 10 outside your cabin, I scribbled, and signed my name. I folded it before Mr. Bowen could see what I had written.
I hoped it wouldn’t end up in the wrong hands.
As soon as Mr. Bowen was out of sight, I went to Charles’ and Mother’s stateroom. I found myself unconsciously crossing my fingers: Please let her be alright. We were halfway to Cleveland, and if Mother fell seriously ill now…
Inside the stateroom, Mother was ashen but sitting up in bed, sipping a cup of tea. In the center of the room, Celia had Sadie perched on a foot stool as she tugged at her hair, winding it into tight coils.
“It will only take a few more minutes, dear,” Mother said from her bed. Sadie shrieked.
“Good God, Mother, would you stop with the curls?!” I yelled. “Can’t you see she hates it?”
Sadie stopped crying. Mother and Celia stared up at me, stunned by my outburst. This wasn’t like me, and they knew it.
The stress of becoming Charles’ henchman was eating at me.
“Celia, take Sadie to her room,” Mother ordered. The nurse quietly picked her up and carried her away. Half of her long brown hair was still pinned against her scalp, twisted so tightly that the sight of it made me wince.
“Sit down, Johnny,” Mother said. I sank to the foot stool where Sadie had been sitting.
“I’m sorry, Mother,” I said. “It’s just that—”
“Quiet,” she hissed. “Do you understand the pressure your stepfather heaps upon me? To measure up to the other passengers, when they know I’ve been ill? To have our child come to supper looking like a little doll?...”
Her voice wavered as her eyes flooded with tears.
“No one faults you for being sick, Mother.” I could tell from the look in her eyes that she knew I was lying.
“You don’t have to be everything Charles expects you to be, you know,” I said. “Father never did this to you.”
“Don’t bring up your father, please,” Mother said. “I don’t want to hear about him today.”
“You never want to hear about him,” I said. “We stopped talking about him the day you married Charles. I can’t even mention his name anymore.” I thought of how I had almost slipped and called myself by Father’s name the night I saw Rudy in the Grand Staircase.
We both stayed quiet for a moment.
“I’ll come back to check on you later,” I said. “I’m going to explore the ship for a bit.”
“Wonderful,” Mother replied. “And if you see Charles, can you tell him to come to me? I haven’t seen him all morning.”
“Of course,” I said. But I suspected Charles had other plans for the day.
* * *
By late afternoon, I was starting to worry. I sat in a chair at the foot of the Grand Staircase, trying to collect my thoughts. Why wasn’t Bridget responding to my message? She told me last night that she would write back, just before she shoved me out the door of her cabin. Had the stewards forgotten to give it to her? Or worse—had it fallen into Jim’s hands?
I spotted Charles and Mr. Rathbone coming towards me. Charles’ face looked tense, and their pace was oddly swift.
“Hello, John.” Charles acknowledged me with nod, then quickly looked away. I opened my mouth to say that Mother wanted him, but before I could speak, they were already disappearing down the staircase.
Charles was bringing Rathbone into his plot. He no longer trusted me after he’d watched me with Bridget on the deck. I could still hear Charles’ snarling.
I sent you down there to get my property, not to stand around on the third class deck making eyes at her.
They were going to Rathbone’s cabin. I was certain of it.
I began to follow them.
I wondered, for a brief moment, what on Earth I was doing. I couldn’t afford to anger Charles—not now, with Mother in such fragile condition. But I found myself trailing Charles and Rathbone anyway, walking quietly behind them to D-Deck. They were too absorbed in conversation to notice.
I ducked into another hallway when they entered Mr. Rathbone’s stateroom. The door slammed, and keys rattled as it was locked from the inside.
Most of the time, Charles met with Rathbone or Anton in the smoking room, where he could sip on expensive liquor as he schemed. Now, he wanted absolute privacy.
I tiptoed up to the door, where I could hear their voices more clearly.
“You haven’t retrieved the letter yet?” Mr. Rathbone asked.
“No, no,” Charles said. There was a long pause and some rustling.
“Rathbone, I think I might have a traitor on my hands.”
I was right. Charles was cutting me out of his plot.
“Don’t look so startled,” Charles said with a laugh. “I don’t mean you.”
“You mean John?”
I could hear Charles lighting up a cigarette. “John has resented me since the day I married Victoria,” he said matter-of-factly. “I thought he’d come around, act like a son, show some interest in my business. Sarah is the only child Victoria’s bore me in eight years, you know.” Charles was the only person who called Sadie by her formal name, Sarah, instead of her nickname.
“However, I might have John in my clutches just long enough for him retrieve the letter,” Charles said. “He’s enjoying these little visits to the Irish tart. Perhaps a bit too much.”
“It’s a pity your plan to put Victoria away was a failure,” Rathbone said.
“Don’t remind me,” Charles replied. “Victoria’s crazy, but it seems she’s not crazy enough for the asylum.”
“I meant your second plan.”
Charles laughed again. “At least the poison was enough to cause seizures,” he said. “I believe it confirmed everyone’s suspicions that she’s unwell, mentally.”
Charles was the one making her sick!
Everything about Mother’s condition made sense now. Charles was poisoning her, and then making her out to be a hysteric when she fell ill. I resisted the urge to beat down the door, to confront him in a murderous rage. I fought with all my power to stay quiet.
“It’s a shame she has such a hefty chunk of your steel profits about her neck,” Rathbone said.
“You mean the necklace?” Charles replied. “Not anymore. She thinks it’s with the purser.”
“What did you do with it?”
“I gave it to Anton,” Charles said. “When we get to New York, I will report it stolen. Of course, they’ll never find the phantom thief, because Anton will sell the necklace for me. I agreed to give him a twenty percent commission. If the truth about the steel ever surfaces and Lake Erie Steel is ruined, I have insurance. From Anton’s black market dealings, mind you.”
“What about Victoria?”
“Oh, if she keeps up her dramatic performances, I’ll have her put away for good,” Charles replied blithely. “She’d make a fascinating case study for that Dr. Freud character. As you know, the law favors the husband in such matters. I’ll take Sarah and find a new wife, perhaps one who will give me a son.”
“I’m surprised you trust Anton to follow through with this plan,” Rathbone said. “Is he aware that it’s an act of fraud?”
“Anton’s a greedy bastard,” Charles replied. “He’ll take that kind of risk for twenty percent. Especially now, with his, ahem, special interests.”
“And what about John?” Rathbone asked.
“John’s not my son,” Charles snapped. “When we get home and the divorce is underway, I plan to cut him out of my will. I owe the boy nothing. John is an intellectual, and intellectuals have no mind for business.”
“If you’re concerned about business, sir, you need to get that letter from your maid.” Even Rathbone sounded uneasy with his brazenness.
There was another pause as they both dragged on their cigarettes. “You know, Charles, you ought to throw that ungrateful girl overboard.”
“Thank you for mentioning that,” Charles said. “She will no longer pose a threat to me, I assure you.”
“Are you giving them the money?”
“Heavens, no. You know me better than that. But I will be getting that letter. I don’t care if I have to kill f
or it.”
“I like the way your mind works, Mr. Conkling.”
I heard them both laugh wickedly.
* * *
I could feel my pulse pounding in my temples as I climbed the first class stairs. Who did I go to first? Mother? Bridget? Charles had it in for all of us.
I thought of how Mother had been bedridden yesterday. Was he trying to poison her now? Or was he waiting to divorce her when they got to Cleveland, as he’d told Rathbone?
If Charles had his way, Mother and I would never see Sadie again.
I had to get the necklace back and hide it. It was our only insurance against Charles.
I went to the staterooms on B-Deck. Charles’ and Mother’s door was unlocked, and I saw Mother in bed, her dark curls fanned out on the pillow. I raced to her in a panic.
“Mother?” I cried, grabbing her wrist.
There was a steady pulse. For now, she was fast asleep, dreaming peacefully.
Sadie and Celia’s adjoining room was empty.
I caught a glimpse of the bureau where Charles and Mother kept their belongings. I opened the drawer, rifling through layers of clothing. If there was a vial of poison hidden there, I was determined to find it.
“What are you doing in here? Get out of my drawers!”
The sound of Charles’ voice made me jump.
“I—I was just looking for a tie, sir,” I stammered, knowing it was an obvious lie. “Dinner starts in an hour.”
“A tie,” he repeated sneeringly. “Is that so, John?”
Charles shoved me aside. He reached into the bureau and pulled out a red necktie.
“There you are,” he said, and he threw it at me.
“Thank you, sir,” I said. I was red-faced and visibly nervous. My hands shook as I snatched the tie from the floor.
“See you at dinner,” Charles replied coldly. “By the way, I’m still waiting for my letter.”
Faye sidled up to me outside of the dining room while our parents were distracted.