Dangerous Sea (26 page)

‘Leukaemia!’ Verity said in alarm.

‘Yes, Uncle Ned spotted it at once. I must say I didn’t, but that’s partly why her skin is so transparent . . . why she looks like an angel.’

‘Let’s get this straight,’ Edward said, trying to be sensible. ‘You’ve asked this girl to marry you and she has said yes?’

‘That’s right. Why do you keep on repeating it? She’s as good as gold. In fact, it was she who raised it.’

‘Raised what?’

‘Whether you’d make a fuss. She asked me if my people would object and, of course, I said they wouldn’t. Why should they?’

‘Well, for one thing, the Roosevelts aren’t quite what they seem.’

‘What on earth do you mean, Uncle?’

‘I used this miracle of modern technology,’ he said, gesturing towards the telephone beside his bed, ‘to check up on your new friends when I saw how stuck on the girl you were.’

‘You checked up on Philly?’ Frank was aghast.

‘For your own good, my boy.’

‘And . . .?’

‘And the father is a disgraced politician serving five years for fraud. Their name is really Ravelstein and they make a practice of conning the rich and foolish.’

‘I don’t believe you!’

‘Ask her.’

‘Are you saying Philly isn’t ill?’ Verity demanded.

‘She probably is ill. It’s sympathy which gets them the cash they need. When you try to get out of your engagement, you will be asked to part with a decent sum of money – my guess is ten thousand dollars – if you don’t want to be sued for breach of promise.’

‘I don’t believe you. You’re just trying to frighten me. Anyway, if it’s true, why didn’t you tell me this before?’

‘I saw no reason to interfere with a harmless flirtation. It never occurred to me that you would be silly enough to get engaged to the girl. Oh, and I have a theory. While Perry, you and I were running round the deck like headless chickens, your Philly was knocking George Earle Day on the head.’

Verity wouldn’t let him get away with that. ‘Hang on, just a moment ago you said you didn’t believe it. You said – sorry, Frank – she wouldn’t have the strength.’

‘Well, I’ve changed my mind.’

‘But why?’ Frank said helplessly, and Verity’s heart went out to him.

‘Because the all-wise, all-knowing, all-blackmailing Senator knew exactly who the Roosevelt family were and was demanding his share of the profits. And how did he know, you ask? I’ll tell you. Senator Day was an old friend and political associate of their father’s.’

There was silence in the cabin, which was becoming hot and stuffy with so much emotion on display.

Frank looked as though he had been hit over the head with a blackjack. ‘So what am I supposed to do?’ He looked around him and Verity saw he was close to tears. She put out her hand to him but he ignored her, staring wild-eyed at his uncle who remained silent. ‘Damn it! I don’t believe you! Hell and damnation, why should I believe you?’

‘Very well, wait and see. At the dance tonight, Philly will look entrancing and she will ask you . . . or Perry will ask you . . . for money. See if I’m not right.’

‘Damn you . . . both of you. You’ve ruined my life. I’ll never trust anyone ever again.’ Frank flung open the door and left them.

‘Weren’t you a bit hard on the boy?’ Verity said.

‘He’s got to learn to be careful. It’s the same impetuosity that made him take off to Spain with that dreadful man, John Devon. He’s got to learn not to wear his heart on his sleeve.’

‘God, you can be so pompous. Weren’t you ever young? Weren’t you ever rash? You’re just a . . . a rice pudding – soggy and indigestible.’

As the cabin door slammed for the second time, Edward decided he had every reason to feel sorry for himself. His knee hurt like fury. His best efforts at being a good uncle had earned him nothing but abuse. Jane Barclay had set him a moral problem to which there was no right answer and he still had to deliver his charge alive and kicking in New York. A shout halfway to a scream interrupted his self-pity and he struggled to his feet. The cry had come from the next cabin. Was he now to have Lord Benyon slaughtered by some Fascist madman virtually in front of his eyes? He cursed and cursed again.

‘Sorry, Corinth, did I wake you?’ Marcus Fern said. ‘I managed to drop this briefcase on my foot. I don’t know why it’s so heavy.’ He was alone in the cabin, sitting at the writing-desk working on some papers.

‘I wasn’t asleep,’ Edward said shortly. ‘I was just resting my knee. Here, let me give you a hand with that.’ He leant over to help Fern lift the bag, which was lying on its side on the floor. As he did so he stumbled and nearly fell, pulling the bag violently as he tried to support himself against the wall. ‘No damage done,’ he began and then stopped. As he took a proper hold on the briefcase, a black object fell heavily to the floor. It was a .38 automatic.

Edward looked at Fern inquiringly. ‘It’s mine,’ he acknowledged. ‘I thought, if there was any trouble . . .’

‘But I remember asking, after Barrett was killed, if anyone had a gun and only Sam Forrest said he had. Why didn’t you declare it then?’

‘I didn’t think it was a good idea, that’s all,’ Fern said stiffly. ‘How was I to know if one of the people in the cabin then might not be . . . you know . . . in the employ of the enemy?’

‘You didn’t think I was?’

‘No, but I knew very little about you. As for Sam Forrest – who, as you say, was armed – what little I knew about him I didn’t like at all. I thought you were far too ready to trust an American rabble-rousing union organizer with the safety of a government representative. There was no reason to trust you or your judgement. Forgive me for being frank but, in my business, I trust no one. Perhaps you think that odd but the City is by no means the league of gentlemen some people think it is. Or, if it is, it excludes scholarship boys. I had a hard struggle to get where I am and I didn’t get here by trusting people.’

‘Doesn’t that make for a lonely life? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.’

‘I made a few enemies on the way but the friends I have made are not casual acquaintances. They’ve been tried and tested.’

‘But surely you’ve never needed a gun? I can’t believe that’s the way business rivals fight their battles.’

‘No, but when I knew I was to accompany Lord Benyon on this trip, I thought it wise to bring a weapon with me. Was that wrong?’

‘No,’ Edward said slowly, ‘but I wish you had told me. Where did you get it, if I may ask?’

‘I bought it last time I was in the States.’

‘And you can use it?’

‘I took a few lessons, yes. Now, if you’ll forgive me, Corinth, I must get this finished before we reach New York. I gather that’ll be about 3 p.m. tomorrow?’

‘I think so.’

‘The storm did not delay us as much as the Captain feared?’

‘No. Will you be attending the fancy-dress ball tonight?’

‘I hope to. Benyon says we ought to enjoy our last night on board before the rigours of our New York schedule.’

‘Where is he, by the way?’

‘I believe your man Fenton has taken him for a constitutional on the promenade deck. Good man, Fenton. You’re lucky to have him. I can’t be bothered with a valet myself but, I confess, sometimes it would be useful. I know Benyon means to ask you if he can take him – Fenton, I mean – as his valet while he’s in the States. Without Barrett . . . I suppose he could hire someone in New York but we haven’t really got time to interview servants and, anyway, could one trust a stranger?’

‘Yes, well, of course,’ Edward said, rather taken aback. ‘It’s up to Fenton. I know my duty,’ he added with an attempt at jocularity.

As he passed through the smoking-room, he saw Bernard Hunt and Doris Zinkeisen huddled together in a corner deep in conversation. There was no one else in the room and they did not see him. Hunt was speaking in low tones but Doris Zinkeisen’s shrill voice was audible across the room. Edward heard her say, ‘I don’t understand. It ought to have been done by now. He said there would be no difficulty but you know what . . .’

Not wishing to be an eavesdropper, he left the room but wondered idly if they had been discussing the repair of her mural. They were so earnest, however, he was inclined to think it was something more important, but what he could not guess.

He found Benyon walking on the promenade deck with Fenton a respectful two paces behind him. Benyon was in high spirits. ‘I can hardly believe tomorrow we shall be on dry land. I have to say this voyage was more of an ordeal than I had anticipated. Poor Barrett and then that terrible storm. I wonder if I shall ever fully recover,’ he added a little petulantly. ‘Really, this trip – no offence to you, my dear boy – has been a nightmare.’

‘I gather from Fern that you are planning to attend the fancy-dress ball tonight?’

‘Do you know, I thought I might.’ He sounded like a naughty child. ‘I’ve always had a penchant for fancy dress. Let me tell you a story – in confidence, please! When I was an undergraduate, two or three friends of mine carried out the most joyful hoax. We dressed one of our number – I won’t give you his name because he’s now a distinguished government servant – in a toga, a turban and a false beard and we inspected the fleet.’

‘You did what?’ Edward exclaimed.

‘I rang up the admiral at Spithead – who was a family friend as it happened – and pretended I was speaking from the Admiralty. I said the King of Bongo-Bongo Land was coming down to inspect the fleet and could he be shown over a battleship.’

‘He didn’t recognize your voice?’

‘Not at all. It was a terrific lark. The whole thing went quite smoothly and we were greeted by the captain of the . . . of one of our great battleships and shown over with full honours. There was even a gun salute.’

‘And you were never found out?’

‘Never. Or rather, I think the truth did percolate through eventually but the Navy never said anything. They would have looked the most frightful asses if they had. It’s a weakness of mine but I love hoaxes. There must be something irredeemably juvenile hidden inside this old body of mine.’

After lunch the sun came out and, though there was a cold wind, the First Class passengers seemed determined to make the best of what remained of their time on the
Queen Mary
. The promenade deck was a pleasant compromise between being inside and out. Protective screens, pierced by a number of vertically sliding windows, allowed passengers such as Lord Benyon, who were not particularly robust, to take their exercise without being exposed to the elements. The sun deck, immediately above the promenade deck, was also the lifeboat deck but the lifeboats were carried high up on davits so passengers could lean over the rails along the length of it. The after-end was used for a variety of deck games and it was there Edward encountered his nephew.

He was concerned that – as Verity had said – he had been too hard on the boy. From guilt above all, he had, he now thought, been too quick to dampen Frank’s romantic attachment. He feared he might have humiliated his nephew which had not been his intention. He saw his role as that of a constitutional monarch – to warn and advise – but felt he should have found a gentler way of telling Frank that he had been taken for a ride. No one likes to think they have been made a fool of so he was relieved, if rather surprised, to find him playing an energetic game of tennis with Perry. Philly watched from the sidelines, looking fetchingly gracile in an outfit he had not seen before. The family might not be wealthy but they certainly dressed well. The mother, too, was there. Free, for once, from one of her headaches, she was sitting in a cane chair reading
Vogue
and watching her son.

Edward came up beside her and lifted his hat – a yachting cap he had bought on impulse in the Army and Navy while purchasing a new trunk for the voyage, the day before he left London. Fenton had made it quite clear, without actually putting it into words, that he did not approve of the cap but Edward thought it made him look rather dashing.

‘I say, good to see you are fully recovered, Mrs . . . Mrs Roosevelt. Do you mind if I sit myself down here beside you?’

‘Of course not, Lord Edward. I wanted to speak to you in any case. Isn’t your nephew doing well? Perry thinks of himself as a good tennis player but Frank is beating him with ease.’

For a moment or two they sat in silence watching the two handsome young men display their prowess.

‘I think my nephew is very taken with your daughter,’ he ventured. ‘She is delightful so I am not in the least surprised. I hope Frank isn’t making a nuisance of himself. At his age, I know I was falling in and out of love like a yo-yo.’

Mrs Roosevelt turned to look at him and Edward found himself gazing into steady, grey eyes, by no means those of a neurasthenic and valetudinarian. He saw that she must have been a beauty when she was younger.

‘I think you know, Lord Edward, that my name is not Roosevelt but Ravelstein. It’s an odd conceit which you may find reprehensible but, wishing to distance myself from my husband, I chose to assume my maiden name.’

‘I see,’ Edward said awkwardly. ‘Might I ask if you are divorced? Forgive me. That’s impertinent.’

‘Not yet. I decided to wait until my husband has completed his term of imprisonment and then decide what to do. I cannot forgive him for the shame he brought on the children and me but maybe I still love him. Time will tell. In any case, it is not in my nature to kick a man when he’s down – isn’t that the expression? Did you hear about my husband from that dreadful man Senator Day?’

‘No, not from him,’ Edward said, even more awkwardly. He did not want to admit that he had learnt her history from Major Ferguson. Fortunately she did not pursue the matter except to say, ‘He was a horrible man and, I’m sorry to say, an associate of my husband’s. Well, more than that, a friend of the family – or so we thought. When I found out he was on board, I’m afraid it brought on one of my migraines. I don’t know why I should be so stupid but I could not bear the idea that I and my family should be the subject of gossip.’

‘Of course not. And, if I might ask, did he try to . . .?’

‘Blackmail me? Not overtly. He was, I think, otherwise engaged and I doubt he would have liked it to be common knowledge that his former business partner was serving a gaol sentence. He gave me the occasional “look”, you understand?’