Whirlwind (4 page)

Arthur’s wails echoed in the suite as Daniel entered. He waited for Nanny to settle his son . . . but he waited in vain. When a minute passed with no change, Daniel frowned. Was his son suffering seasickness? Impossible—not with him putting up such a fuss. Striding to the nursery, he called out, “Miss Jenkin, is something—”

“Dadda! Dadda!” Arthur stood in his cot and lifted his hands.

“There now.” Daniel pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped Arthur’s face. “Nanny!”

Nanny Jenkin gave no response.

Daniel started to lift his son and discovered a very soggy nappy. His nose wrinkled. “Miss Jenkin!” Still no answer. “I hope she’s not seasick.”

It was then he caught sight of a folded sheet of paper on the bed.

Three

T
he important thing is, we’re together.” Millicent flattened the center bunk against the bulkhead and secured it. The constant droning of the ship’s engine filled the steerage compartment with a nagging sound and an odd vibration that even rocking ocean waves didn’t hide.

Isabelle sank onto the lowest bunk and scanned their dank surroundings. “I don’t think we could be any closer together. Millie, how will we ever endure a whole week of this?”

As the elder of the two, Isabelle always worried and Millicent admitted that her sister had ample cause for concern this time. Lucifer himself probably had had a hand in designing the
Opportunity
’s lowest deck. Narrow bunks stacked three high filled the “family” quarters. Thin mattresses smelled of stale straw, and a single thin-as-a-sneeze blanket would be all the warmth each passenger got. And those were the better aspects of the accommodations.

Here and there, a lucky passenger had grabbed one of the few life preservers and now used them as pillows.
Lord, please don’t let anything befall this ship. Without enough life boats or preservers, we’d drown.

Unaware of her sister’s thoughts, Isabelle continued on in a whisper, “You ought to go get in line for the women’s necessary so you can remove your bustle. Even though you’re slender as a sapling, the extra inches the bustle adds are ones you don’t have. There aren’t even two feet of space between our bunk and that one.”

Grasping at a chance to cheer up her sister, Millicent whispered, “What a grand idea! It’s the horsehair roll, so we can take turns using it as a pillow.”

“Millie!”

“Millie?” Frank, Isabelle’s husband, squeezed in through the door and turned sharply toward them. “How did you shock Isabelle this time?” Deep worry grooves around his mouth returned as soon as his fleeting smile left.

“Isabelle and I are . . . solving problems. I’m sure if we put our heads together, we’ll all find ways to make the journey tolerable. After all, it’s one slim week, isn’t that right, Frank?”

Isabelle’s husband nodded. “Be glad Millicent came along, Isabelle. Had we gone ahead, I’d have refused to send for her. There’s no way I’d allow your sister to travel like this alone and stuck in the single women’s compartment.”

“It would have been better if she took that position with the Grants. She could have saved up, and we would, too. Then she could have come second class.”

“I can’t believe you said that.” Millicent popped up and swung around to face her sister. Her bustle caught on the post of the next bunk and slung her back to sprawl across Isabelle’s lap.

Isabelle gasped.

Millicent burst out laughing and straightened up. “See? You would have missed that if I weren’t here. With me along, you’ll be entertained the whole voyage.”

A squabble broke out nearby. Frank muttered, “We could do with less entertainment.”

“You’re the only family I have.” Millicent decided sitting on the bunk with her sister was the only sensible option. She gave Isabelle a meaningful look. “We promised each other—”

“That we’d always stay together,” Isabelle finished.

“And we will.” Millie leaned forward to look at her brother-in-law. “So I’m warning you both here and now, you’re going to hurt my feelings if you say anything more about wishing you’d left me behind. Why, I’ll be downright cranky.”

A wry smile eased some of the tension from Frank’s expression. “I doubt you’ll have a single cranky hour in your whole life.”

Millie laughed. “So what did you find out?”

The worry lines returned. Frank cleared his throat. “The single men’s compartment and the single women’s compartment are on either side of the engine. We’re at the back. There’s a tiny deck at the stern for steerage.”

“We’ll let the men get windblown back there.” Isabelle scanned the dank area. “I suppose Millie and I can sew in the dining room between meals.”

“I’m sorry, lamb, but this is it. There isn’t a dining room or any other space whatsoever.”

Isabelle stared at the next triple bunk. “The way these are stacked—” her voice cracked—“I’m going to have nightmares about being trapped alive in a coffin.”

“No you won’t. Will she, Frank?”

Frank stroked Isabelle’s cheek. “We’ll pray about it.”

Lacing her fingers with Isabelle’s, Millicent nodded.“God will grant us fortitude. Besides, there’s no way you could be dead and hear all this noise.” In addition to the engine’s pulse, babies cried, children whined, and adults talked.

Off to the left, a woman laid her baby on the bunk and started to change his nappy. Isabelle blushed. “There’s no privacy.”

Millicent patted her sister’s hand. “I’ve thought that through. Frank was a genius, claiming the corner for us. Ours are the only bunks that flatten up against the wall. We can fold them out of the way, drape our blankets across the space, and we’ll have a private dressing room!”

Thump.
Isabelle used her heel to hit something beneath the bed. “Are you forgetting our baggage is under here?”

“I’ll stack it to the side whenever you need me to, lamb.”

Millicent gave her brother-in-law a look of gratitude. He understood her sister’s penchant for fretting. He and Millie had an unspoken agreement: Between his patience and her creativity, they managed to help Isabelle control her worries. A week on this ship was going to take every shred of their collective strength.

Isabelle straightened her shoulders. “Once we reach America, I’ll forget all about this.”

Frank sat at Isabelle’s side, his knees hitting the neighboring bunk. “I’ve been thinking of what we’ll do in America.”

“You’ve thought of little else since you decided we ought to go.” Affection coated Isabelle’s words.

Frank leaned forward. “Emporiums and catalogues sell ready-to-wear clothing. We need to cater to the more discriminating clientele. The wealthy won’t blink at purchasing pricey items. It wouldn’t take but a few customers, and word of mouth would take care of the rest. New York will be teeming. I was considering Baltimore or Boston. What do you think, Isabelle?”

Isabelle shivered. Millicent opened her shawl and shared its warmth. “Someplace sunny.”

Teatime came and went without a single morsel of food or a drop of something to drink. Millicent ignored her rumbling stomach. Judging from the dismal accommodations, they’d be fortunate if dinner was edible. Millicent stood. “Why don’t we go out on deck?”

Frank winced. “It’s crowded out there.”

“Some fresh air does sound good.” Isabelle’s gaze swept the compartment, and she murmured, “Is it safe to leave our things untended?”

“Sooner or later, we’ll have to.” Millicent shoved the bracelet beneath her cuff. “But it’s wise to keep anything with us that’s small and tempting.”

Isabelle’s hand went up to her throat. Beneath the high neck of her blouse lay Mama’s locket. She never took it off. “I suppose my worry was for naught. We didn’t have anything of much value to bring.”

Millicent turned and eased into the aisle. Proud of herself for making it through without bumping her bustle or banging her head, she beamed. As soon as she saw the stingy four-by-ten-foot area where the steerage passengers could catch a breath of air, Millicent decided complaining wouldn’t do any good. Instead, she squeezed ahead and tugged Isabelle along. “The salty air smells like the broth we made—remember?”

“Oh, I’d forgotten about that.” Isabelle giggled. She couldn’t turn, so she craned her neck and looked up at Frank. “One Christmas, since most of the other girls went home to be with their families, the cook let Millie and me spend time in the kitchen with her. We each thought she told us to add salt, so it got a double measure. In order to remedy the mistake, Cook kept having us add other things to the pot.”

“It was the best soup I ever had.” Millie turned her face into the little tunnel of fresh air that angled between two men.
“Isabelle, do you—”

“Attention! I’ll have your attention!” A crew member called down from the deck above. “We’ve a passenger who requires a nanny.”

“Millie.” Isabelle prodded her.

Pain washed over Millicent. She’d poured her love into Audrey and Fiona, only to have them ripped from her care.
Never again. I can’t do that again.

“I can mind a child!” A rawboned woman waved her arm in the air. A few more volunteered, as well.

“You—” The sailor pointed at the first woman. “Go to the starboard stairway.”

“Millie, you should have spoken up. Don’t you think so, Frank?”

While Frank nodded, Millicent shook her head. “No. I couldn’t. We’re going to stay together.”

“That’s not the real reason, is it?” Isabelle’s eyes narrowed, then her lips parted. “Oh, Millie. It wouldn’t be like with the Eberhardt girls. You’d just mind the child for a week. That’s all. Besides, you’d earn a little money.”

“I’d do it without pay, just to be up in first class,” someone 43 said from behind them.

Millicent squeezed Isabelle’s hand. “I couldn’t bear being up there, knowing I’d left you down here.”

“Knowing you were up there would make staying down here more bearable. If there’s another chance, promise me you’ll take it.”

Laughter bubbled out of Millicent. “That’s preposterous. Someone needing a nanny is a fluke. Besides—”

“So help me, Millie, if you dare say something about staying together again, I’ll do something rash. Don’t you dare think I won’t. I’d—”

“Pick me up and pitch me overboard?” Millicent grinned.

“Give way! Give w—” A woman towing a school-aged boy tried to shove through the crowd. They didn’t make it to the side in time, and the boy got violently sick. The sight and smell triggered a revolting wave of nausea among several present.

Frank immediately shoved Isabelle back toward the family quarters and jerked Millicent along. Grim lines set his face. “If you can get out of this purgatory, do so.”

“It’s just a tickle in my throat is all.” The woman who’d been selected as the nanny resisted her escort. A brace of coughs shivered out of her. “You have no reason to worry.”

The uniformed man who’d originally chosen her scowled. His pockmarked face looked downright frightening. “You won’t serve.” He remained two steps up and nudged her back into steerage.

“My sister-in-law is healthy.” Frank stepped behind Millie and rested his hands on her shoulders. “She’s an experienced nanny. You couldn’t find better.”

Wariness furrowed the sailor’s brow. “Come here.”

Plagued with uncertainty, Millie made her way to the foot of the stairs. Up closer, she stopped noticing his blotched complexion and saw the worry in his eyes.

“Your cheeks are red,” he said. “Are you feverish?”

“It’s the wind.” She lifted her chin. “I’m quite well.”

“Fine.” He beckoned her to follow.

The wind whipped at her, then suddenly stilled when she stepped into a protected alcove on the upper deck. The man kept striding along, and she did her best to keep up with him. His rolling gait accommodated the rocking of the ship; she had yet to develop her balance.
I didn’t realize it downstairs because we were packed in so tightly; I could only shuffle.

Hastily tucking in a few errant wisps of hair and poking in a hairpin, Millicent halted when the sailor did. He knocked sharply on a gleaming mahogany door bearing an ornate brass six. A deep voice from inside sounded, though she couldn’t tell what he said before the sailor took a key from his vest pocket and opened the door.

Belatedly, Millicent smoothed her skirts and quirked a smile at the thought that the children wouldn’t even notice her rumpled clothing.

The man whispered, “What’s your name, miss?”

“Miss Millicent Fairweather.”

“Miss Millicent Fairweather, sir. She’s an experienced nanny.”

“It’s about time!” A tall sable-haired man strode out of an adjoining room. He held a crying toddler at arm’s length. As soon as he saw Millicent, he came to an abrupt halt.

The child wriggled and wailed even louder.

“Allow me.” Millicent swept the baby from him and took him back into the room they’d exited. “I assume you have nappies in here for . . . is it a boy or a girl?”

“A son. Arthur.”

“Will there be anything else, Mr. Clark?”

“Yes. I expect I’ll need to interview a few more prospects, as well. Bring the next candidate in a quarter hour.”

Millicent’s heart skipped a beat.
Do I want this job, or don’t I?

The woman moved with incredible ease, laying Arthur down, stripping him, pouring water into a washbowl, and bathing him. She cooed softly, completely unaffected by the stench of the soiled diaper. Almost the second she took possession of Arthur, he’d stopped squalling. A fold here, a twist there, a few pins, and she’d done more for his son than Daniel had managed in the past half hour. In action and in temperament, Miss Fairweather exemplified grace. Popping a fresh gown over his head, she said, “Peek-a-boo!”

Arthur giggled and grabbed a tendril of her nut brown hair. “Boo!”

She extricated herself and seated him on the floor. “You sit here for a moment.”

Arthur clouded up again.

“Now, now.” Miss Fairweather glanced about, a frown marring her youthful face and darkening the gray-green of her eyes. Obviously not seeing what she needed, she pulled a bracelet from her wrist and gave it to him. “See? Pretty!”

“Preeee!” Arthur snatched it with glee.