Chapter 6

Lady Bethune was very annoyed. The heating in her first class suite wasn’t working. The radiators were stone cold. It would have been bearable in July, but not in October. Especially not in 1850 which had suffered through an unusually wet and cold fall.

Lady Bethune was justifiably incensed, and had every reason to expect better from a cruise line that advertised itself as the last word in luxury. There was an infectious cough going around among the passengers and she was afraid of catching it in the icy chill of her private rooms.

Bundled in her overcoat, she sat on the settee, blanket over her lap, drinking another cup of the finest oriental blend of tea, as hot as she could stand it. She complained to the steward, “The suite should’ve been checked before a guest was allowed to take possession of it. It’s unheard of to expose your passengers to such rigors and inconveniences.”

“It will be attended to right away, Milady,” the steward assured her, bowing repeatedly. “A service man has been called.”

A man did arrive, with tools and a less than respectful disposition. He turned a few valves and banged on the steam pipes that were supposed to bring heat into the room. He spoke a dialect that was hardly understandable. The steward tried to translate.

“The pipes are somehow blocked. The problem’s not here but farther back in the main feeder pipe that serves Milady’s suite.”

“Well, can he fix it or not?”

“It seems that is the responsibility of engineering, not of general maintenance.” The mechanic collected his tools and left without any civility whatsoever.

“I will not stay in an unheated suite. I insist that the problem be alleviated forthwith,” Lady Bethune said frostily.

“It shall be done immediately, Madam.” The steward left the room backward, bowing repeatedly.

Exasperated, Lady Bethune got up and took a boa from the closet and wrapped it around her neck. She was still cold. The steward returned.

“Good news Milady,” he said ingratiatingly. “Engineering is sending their best man to fix your little problem.”

That was too much for Milady. “First off, it’s not my problem it’s yours and the Captain shall hear of it. And second it’s not a little problem. This place is an icebox. Uninhabitable. Either get it fixed or find me a comparable suite with some heat.”

“Would do so gladly, but we are completely full. Not a cabin left anywhere.”

There was a discreet knock, and the door opened to let in a tall, good-looking man in uniform.

“Ah, the First Engineer.” The steward breathed a sigh of relief. He thought maybe the good looking officer would soften the lady’s irritation. And he did, somewhat.

Lady Bethune rose, straightening her back, letting her good posture show to advantage. “It seems I’m without heat. It would be most kind if you could remedy the situation.”

“We will do our best,” the officer replied in the well-modulated tone he practiced around first class passengers.

“I would be most grateful.”

The engineer touched each radiator, finding them all cold. Next he checked the valves, but the fault did not lie in them.

“The mechanic was right, Milady. The problem is farther back in the piping. Be assured I’ll look after it. It will be fixed. I apologize for the inconvenience.” For the first time he really looked at her and seemed taken aback. Confusion washed over his face then immediately smoothed out.

Hello, Lady Bethune didn’t know what to think. She caught the brief interplay, and her instincts and curiosity were instantly aroused. Of course every woman likes to make a lightning impression, but she was too old to be taken in by it so easily. There was some reason behind the reaction she was searching for. She had a good memory and she was sure she’d never met the officer.

After about fifteen minutes, the officer returned, his face perfectly schooled, attentive and polite. She didn’t see a spark of the original impact. She was vaguely disappointed.

“The problem has been fixed. They replaced some piping that had burst, but forgot to turn back the main feeder valve for Milady’s suite.” He went to the radiator and touched the pipe. “Yes, already warming up. It will take less than half an hour for the room to be comfortable. Again, please accept our most sincere apologies for the inconvenience.” Under the hypnotic influence of the polite tone, she was ready to forgive much. Like the steward, the engineer backed out and bowed lightly before softly closing the door behind him. Lady Bethune suddenly felt hot. “Come, come, you’re a married woman,” she chided herself.

At 5 o’clock, Lady Bethune walked into the first class dining room. She looked around at the six tables, half filled with passengers. It was important to make the right choice, as one could easily become stuck with the wrong table mates for the duration of the voyage.

Lady Chillon rose and waved to her from the Captain’s table. “That’s just like my Bernice,” Lady Bethune thought, smiling pleasantly right and left, “to go straight to the head table.” As she neared the table the Captain gallantly sprang to his feet and led the attractive lady to a seat just right of his. She sat down and turned on her most dazzling smile: always important to make a good first impression. There was a mix of passengers and officers around the table; to her surprise the Chief Engineer sat opposite her. He returned her look, evenly, his face smooth. Lady Bethune was too good a card player not to notice the studied nonchalance that hid any expression. Again she had to wonder what had he to hide. In spite of her social competence she began to feel flustered under his hooded gaze.

“I hope your rooms are warm, Milady,” he said, inclining his head toward her.

“Yes, quite.” Then the Captain claimed her attention in the exchange of pleasantries that went with polite conversation. To her right, she also made the acquaintance of Mr. Harold, of the firm of Harold and Pfife, premier outfitters to the most affluent of the rising middle class. He was amusing, though always a salesman, even when he didn’t need to be. From time to time Lady Bethune threw a quick glance at the Chief Engineer, who had seemingly avoided conversation on his either side and sat calmly regarding her, listening in on her conversation. Under his gaze, she lost interest in her food and had a hard time concentrating on her own speech, more than once losing the thread of her argument.

Before the dessert course arrived, an underofficer came up to the Chief Engineer and whispered something in his ear. Immediately the Chief Engineer rose, and with an apologetic gesture to the guests, left the table and the room. Suddenly Lady Bethune felt somehow colder.

When the gentlemen headed off for after dinner cigars in the smoking room, the ladies gathered and discussed their male companions. Lady Chillon leaned over to her friend and confided, “This will be a thrilling voyage. I have set my eye on the Captain and he is already preening himself. Men are so transparent.”

“Bernice, you’re absolutely shameless.”

“Come now, Emily. We’re going to enjoy ourselves. Being married has its advantages; we can flirt without having to deliver the goods, so to speak.” And she twittered happily, titillated by her private thoughts. “Besides, I saw you making eyes at our good-looking Chief Engineer.”

“I did no such thing. You take that back.”

“I’ll not.” She poured herself a glass of wine from the crystal carafe. She took a sip and made a face. “Emily, your family imports wine, try this lot they serve us and tell me what you think.”

Emily took a small sip and let it play on her tongue before swallowing. “Not bad, but definitely not of the best pedigree. Wasn’t in the oak long enough to smooth it out. Leaves a slightly harsh aftertaste.” She pushed the carafe away.

“Thought something wasn’t quite right with it. It’s rather disappointing to be served second best when we pay first rate prices.”

Emily told Bernice about the problem with the heat and how the Chief Engineer had rescued the situation.

“Oh, now I understand.” Bernice used a peculiar inflection that insinuated much. “Well, speaking of the devil, here he comes now...” Emily looked up to see the Chief Engineer approach. He took his seat and concentrated on finishing his interrupted dessert.

“Oh, Mr. Engineer, it seems I have some trouble with my heating too,” Bernice trilled in her most arch voice. Emily kicked her under the table, hard enough that her friend winced.

“I’ll send the mechanic over right away to fix it,” the engineer replied, looking from one to the other.

“The others went to smoke,” Emily said, trying to deflect the conversation.

“I don’t smoke,” he said, smiling broadly as if apologizing.

“A filthy habit,” Bernice said. Emily looked at her bemused: Bernice liked an odd cigarillo herself.

“Are you ladies traveling together?”

“Goodness no,” Bernice exclaimed. “I’m only going to Rhodes. Emily’s going on to Egypt.”

“Egypt, how interesting.” He turned his searchlight gaze on Emily.

“I’m joining my husband on a business trip.” Inexplicably she felt flustered again. “Trade negotiations. Delicate work.”

His glass of wine paused halfway, as he considered. “Work, really?” There was something faintly patronizing in the inflection, betraying the skepticism of a working man when his betters talk about work. “And what do you do?”

“I?” She thought hard. “I facilitate. I speak four languages; I know the flow of commerce and the customs of every client.”

“And no doubt also play the piano.” Again there was a hint of sarcasm. But it was a close hit. She prided herself on her playing. More than once she had been able to defuse tensions in a hard deal by providing a classical interlude. “I’m sorry. I fear I sound rude. Don’t mean to be. Now, will you ladies please excuse me, I have work to do.” He rose and left.

“Well, does he ever have a bee in his bonnet,” was the only comment Bernice made. But when the Captain came back she asked him, “Who’s your Chief Engineer?”

“Chance? An excellent chap. We’re lucky to have him.” The Captain motioned with his hand to show the large extent of his luck.

“Chance? An odd name,” Lady Bethune said.

“Chance Percival Fraser-Reid, but he insists that we call him Chance. Even the subordinates. He really is first rate. Believe it or not, he taught himself engineering. He designed the gearbox for our side paddles, and we’re the fastest thing on water for our size.” From there the conversation drifted into onboard gossip about other passengers and Lady Bethune quickly lost interest.

Afterwards, as the two friends walked arm-in-arm up the companionway to their suites, Bernice inquired mischievously, “Are you sure you’re not really interested? I wouldn’t mind taking a chance...” and she twittered. She was older by four years, but of a much more adventuresome nature than her younger companion.

“Very funny,” Emily said. But she was puzzled by her own reaction to the man; there was something so trustworthy about him... something around his eyes... She was not in the habit of trusting anyone, ever since she was kidnapped when she was fifteen years old.