The Keys of Love Page 5

  Luckily Nanny was persuaded in the end to go to dinner without her.

  Henrietta waited for a moment after Nanny had left before opening the door and peering along the corridor.

  It had been decided that she should make her own way to Kitty’s cabin, where Kitty would help her dress.

  The corridor was now empty, so she slipped out and hurriedly made her way to Second Class.

  “You’re late,” scolded Kitty as she opened the door to Henrietta. “The dinner gong rang a while ago.”

  “I’m not going in to dinner,” she replied, stepping quickly out of her dress. “I’m not hungry.”

  Kitty shrugged and handed Henrietta a peignoir.

  “Here, put that on while I make you up. We don’t want to get lipstick on your costume, do we?”

  “L-lipstick?”

  Henrietta had never worn lipstick before nor any cosmetics for that matter.

  “And rouge, too,” elaborated Kitty. “We are going to make you the absolute belle of the ball!”

  Henrietta sat patiently as Kitty worked, whistling as she applied the powder and paint.

  “You stepping out with anyone, honey?” she asked as she pressed the puff to Henrietta’s cheeks.

  “No, I’m not.”

  “And no one in mind?”

  She hesitated as, for some strange reason, the image of a gentleman with his aquiline features and dark brooding eyes rose in her mind. It was the same gentleman she had envisaged when she was playing the French air.

  She was beginning to feel haunted by him.

  She somehow associated him with her return home as if he was waiting ahead for her in her future.

  She gave herself a shake before she replied.

  “No one really.”

  “I’m sure there’ll be someone real soon, you’re just too purty ” added Kitty breezily, when there came the noise of a sudden brouhaha from the corridor outside.

  Running footsteps and shouts and the sound of a scuffle. Henrietta shrank in her chair, but Kitty threw open the door to see what was happening.

  “What’s going on?” she asked a Steward.

  He gestured towards the end of the corridor.

  “That fellow over there they are restraining. He is from Steerage. He stabbed a fellow during a poker game. Tried to escape this way, but we’ve got him now.”

  “Did the other fellow die?” asked Kitty baldly.

  “No, thank God, but our assailant here will have to be locked up till we sail into Liverpool. Step back, lady, they’re bringing him this way.”

  A man, wrapped up in a cape and held on two sides by Stewards, was bundled protesting past the door.

  “How dare you take hold of me I am a Prince!” he cried angrily, struggling to free himself.

  Henrietta froze.

  That voice was it familiar?

  “D-did that man say he was a Prince?” she asked Kitty falteringly.

  “Sure, but them Princes are ten a penny these days, Steerage is full of ’em. I sometimes go down there to dance or play cards and believe me, every second fellow is Prince of Timbuktu or something.”

  Her down-to-earth appraisal reassured Henrietta.

  ‘I’m too jumpy,’ she thought.

  She was imagining Prince Vasily under every rug!

  He could have found out that she was travelling on The Boston Queen tongues wagged, she knew that, but what reason on earth had he to follow her?

  She had made her view clear and there were plenty of other hapless heiresses to pursue in America.

  Whistling, Kitty took Henrietta’s chin in her hand and turned her face this way and that under the lamplight.

  “That’ll do,” she announced with a final flourish of the powder puff.

  She held up a mirror and Henrietta gave a start.

  Who was that young lady staring back at her? The kohl around the eyes, the vivid red lips and the high pink of the cheeks, gave her a sophisticated and knowing air.

  It was not Henrietta Radford, but somebody else entirely different.

  ‘Harrietta Reed’, she felt suddenly with a sense of mounting hysteria and began to giggle uncontrollably.

  “Hey, just what’s so funny? I think you look like a woman of the world!” said Kitty, stung that her handiwork was not admired.

  “B-but what would my f-father say?”

  “I don’t know, but he’s not here to say it!” rejoined Kitty. “So why worry?”

  “I suppose you’re right,” she murmured.

  She also wondered what Nanny would say, but she could hardly reveal that fear to Kitty.

  When Henrietta first stepped onto the dais with the Eddie Bragg Orchestra, she did not dare look towards the Captain’s table, where she knew Nanny was sitting as well as Lady Butterclere and Romany Foss.

  Eyes low, she sat down at the piano and listened as Eddie began to introduce himself and his orchestra. He left his most recent member to last.

  When she heard him mention “our new pianist Miss Harrietta Reed,” she was forced to turn round and nod.

  In that one moment, she became aware of Nanny’s thunderstruck gaze.

  Eddie lifted his baton and the music began. After a few bars it was evident that the evening was

  going to be a success. Henrietta could sense the tapping feet, the smiles and the muttered approval.

  After the final number, the applause was prolonged and enthusiastic.

  Eddie insisted on leading Henrietta to the front of the dais. Her shy curtsy was in puzzling contrast to her gaudy make-up and plunging décolletage.

  The audience, mainly the men, responded heartily. Many stood up to extend their congratulations as Eddie led her over to the Captain’s table.

  Lady Butterclere looked around in alarm as Eddie drew out a seat and Henrietta sat down.

  “I don’t think it appropriate for us to be seated here with a with a performer,” she hissed at the Captain.

  “No?” responded Captain Hanket jovially. “Then pray do not let me detain you, Lady Butterclere. You are welcome to find a seat elsewhere!”

  She half rose and then, noting that everyone present looked relieved at the thought of her imminent departure, sank down again. She was not one to accommodate other people’s desires in any way.

  “My companion, Miss Foss, has a yen to see how the other half lives,” she explained. “Since this is the only chance she is ever going to have of indulging her curiosity, it would be wrong to deprive her of the opportunity.”

  Nanny, who had been looking at Henrietta with a mixture of astonishment and dismay, now turned her stare on Lady Butterclere.

  “Just who are you referring to as the other half?” she demanded grimly.

  “Why, a certain class of character such as that of Miss Reed and yourself, not to mention Mr. Bragg that is alien to our own,” she replied haughtily.

  “Now see here ” began Mrs. Poody angrily when she was silenced by a quick look from Henrietta.

  “I am sure I had no idea I was so interested in such things,” murmured Miss Foss wonderingly.

  “Well, you are,” declared Lady Butterclere firmly.

  Miss Foss’s beady eyes half closed for a moment. When they reopened she seemed to have grasped what was now expected of her.

  “Yes, I’d love to know what your life is like,” she now addressed Henrietta. “I suppose you stay up all night in bars and smoke and drink and I daresay you’ve had lots of affairs with unsuitable men?”

  Henrietta was dumbstruck by her question and it was Eddie who mischievously answered for her.

  “She’s broke many a heart twixt here and Dixie!”

  Henrietta rounded on him.

  “Eddie!”

  Mrs. Poody rapped him on the knuckles with the sugar spoon.

  “You could make trouble with remarks like that!”

  Romany Foss, however, was intrigued, as her eyes roved over Henrietta’s costume.

  “I’ve broken a heart or two myself, “she admitted
finally, “but I’m not going to break any more, because I’m going to be married soon in England.”

  “Congratulations,” mumbled Henrietta.

  “Who to?” asked Mrs. Poody doubtfully.

  “Oh, a Duke,” preened Miss Foss.

  “My stepbrother, the Duke of Merebury,” enlarged Lady Butterclere.

  “Stepbrother?” wondered Mrs. Poody with an air of innocence. “You are not Merebury blood yourself, then?”

  Lady Butterclere bridled at the implication that she herself might not be of aristocratic lineage.

  “The present Duke’s father died young. His mother then married Sir Archibald Gwyneth, who was a widower with one child myself. The Gwyneths are an ancient well established family in Monmouthsire.”

  “Oh, I’m sure, I’m sure,” nodded Mrs. Poody with a wicked smile.

  “Unfortunately,” carried on Lady Butterclere, “the Duke’s grandfather did not approve of his daughter-in-law remarrying at all and so he cut her out of his will. Which is just why I never inherited anything from the Merebury fortune through my stepmother.

  “And which is why I became somewhat estranged from the present Duke. He didn’t live with his mother and my father, but remained with his grandfather at Merebury.

  “It was only when he inherited the title three years ago that he contacted me, feeling that his late mother and I, his stepsister, had been unfairly treated. Which is certainly the case and I am delighted that he is now so well aware of his obligations towards me.”

  “He’s awfully good-looking,” simpered Miss Foss with a yearning sigh. “I’ve seen his photograph. He has raven-black hair and dark eyes and he’s six foot tall.”

  As Henrietta listened intently, the élan induced by her success that evening drained from her, drop by drop.

  A curious feeling rose in her breast a kind of pain, insidious and unpleasant. It was a moment or two before she realised that it was jealousy, pure and simple.

  Jealousy of Miss Foss and her raven-haired Duke.

  She raised her fan and held it to her face, moving it to and fro as if to cool her burning cheeks.

  She wished Miss Foss would stop her eulogy about the Duke.

  “He’s very rich and generous and he could have had anyone he chose but he chose me,” she continued.

  “When did he propose?” asked the Captain.

  Miss Foss now looked a little flustered. She threw a nervous grimace towards Lady Butterclere.

  “Well, he I haven’t actually met him yet ”

  Lady Butterclere’s bosom heaved as she rushed to her companion’s aid.

  “There is an understanding between both of them,” she said firmly.

  The Captain’s eyebrow rose.

  “Oh, an understanding, eh?”

  “There has been much correspondence between my stepbrother and myself on the subject of Miss Foss. I have not failed to make him fully aware of her unique qualities.

  “He will very soon be able to appreciate them for himself, as we are travelling directly to Merebury Court from Liverpool. There is to be a ball held at Merebury on the next evening in honour of the Prince of Wales.”

  Eddie’s ears pricked up immediately.

  “The Prince of Wales?” he repeated. “Yes, indeed. He is stopping off after a hunting

  expedition. I am to be the hostess for the evening.”

  Eddie toyed with a crust of bread thoughtfully.

  “I’ve heard that the Prince is a great music lover.”

  “He loves entertainments of all sorts.”

  “So,” enquired Eddie casually, “what have you laid on for him?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “In the way of music?”

  For the first time Lady Butterclere looked a little non-plussed.

  “Well, I am not certain if my stepbrother, the Duke, has considered I certainly hadn’t thought ”

  “Maybe you should think, Lady Butterclere,” added Eddie. “After all, one must please a Prince at all times.

  “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must congratulate my troop. They played so beautifully tonight. Pity the Prince was not here. I’m sure it would have all been to his taste!”

  Hands in pockets, Eddie strolled over to the table where his players had gathered to discuss the evening.

  The exchange between Eddie and Lady Butterclere had given Henrietta time to recover from the disconcerting feelings that had engulfed her as Miss Foss described the Duke of Merebury.

  Now she lowered her fan and regarded Miss Foss with objective interest.

  “Is it a long since you were in England?” she asked.

  Miss Foss blinked.

  “Oh, I have never been in England.”

  Even the Captain looked surprised.

  “You sound like a proper English gentlewoman to me,” he commented.

  “She attended an excellent school for the children of English émigrés in Portland, Oregon,” explained Lady Butterclere.

  Mrs. Poody turned to Miss Foss.

  “So your parents were English?”

  She threw a look of such palpable consternation at Lady Butterclere that Henrietta was puzzled.

  “Both her parents were indeed English, but they are dead,” said Lady Butterclere quickly. “I knew them well, which is why I have taken an interest in Miss Foss and her future.”

  “You have been away from England a good period yourself, Lady Butterclere?” remarked the Captain.

  Lady Butterclere hesitated.

  “I came out to visit America after my first husband, Lord Butterclere, died,” she replied at last. “I was always one for adventure. I even ventured West for a while. But all things pall. It was time for me to go back home, which is why it is so opportune that the Duke has invited me to spend my twilight years at Merebury.”

  The Captain coughed and raised his glass.

  “Well here’s to your new life. And here’s also to the wedding of the Duke and Miss Foss. Which I have no doubt will take place if you are all in favour of it, Lady Butterclere.”

  “Oh, I am, I am,” insisted Lady Butterclere in an ominous tone. “Make no mistake about it. Now, Captain, I wonder if you would be so kind as to allow me to send a wire to my stepbrother? I should like to discover whether he has employed the services of musicians for the ball.”

  The Captain readily agreed and led her away to his office with Romany Foss in tow.

  Mrs. Poody rounded on Henrietta.

  “Have you any idea of how you look?”

  “Yes. Ghastly,” muttered Henrietta absently.

  At the Captain’s toast to the forthcoming wedding that unpleasant emotion had once again swept through her.

  ‘What is the matter with you, Henrietta? You have never even seen the Duke of Merebury!’ she mused.

  Seeing Henrietta look so pale and unhappy, Nanny decided to say no more on the subject of her performance after all, it was a once in a lifetime occurrence.

  Henrietta went to Kitty’s cabin to return the scarlet gown and as she was returning she stopped at the rail.

  The moonlight on the sea made it gleam like silver fish scales and the stars in the sky were like diamond pins.

  Henrietta sighed.

  It was so romantic, but she had no one to dream of.

  Only a phantom, a face that flitted in and out of her consciousness and that she somehow connected now with the one man in the world she would probably never meet the Duke of Merebury.

  “A dollar for your dreams,” whispered a voice.

  It was Eddie.

  “They’re not worth a dollar.”

  Eddie threw back his head with a laugh.

  “I can’t believe that, Miss Reed! But you do seem to need cheering up and I think I have just the news for you. Believe it or not, Lady Butterclere has invited us to perform at Merebury Court the day after tomorrow. You will agree to play with us, won’t you?”

  Stunned, Henrietta stared at the shining water.

  Merebury Court! An o
pportunity to set eyes on the Duke himself. It was too tempting and yet and yet it was impossible.

  Apart from that, she just simply could not perform in public again. The Boston Queen was one thing, England was quite another.

  “I’m so sorry, Eddie I can’t,” she murmured sadly and turned away.

  Eddie caught her arm.

  “Please, Harrietta,” he pleaded. “You made such a difference tonight on the piano.”

  “But surely your regular player will have caught the next ship after this one? He’ll be docking in Liverpool just a day after us. Plenty of time to join you at Merebury.”

  “That’s just the point, the Captain told me that soon after we left Boston, a big storm blew up and all sea traffic is suspended for the duration.

  “Louie, my pianist, can never make it in time. So you see you gotta say yes!”

  “It’s not possible you don’t understand.”

  “Then tell me.”

  She hesitated. At least if she told him the truth he would realise how impossible it was for her to risk being recognised. Why, she had even met the Prince of Wales once with her parents!

  She sat down on a bench and told her story.

  At the end of it Eddie gave a whistle.

  “What a tale!”

  “Isn’t it,” she agreed, rising. “So you do see, don’t you, that I can’t join you at Merebury.”

  “I see nothing of the sort!” cried Eddie, jumping up after her. “The Duke won’t have met you, so that doesn’t matter. And at the ball, you won’t look like yourself at all.

  You hardly look like yourself now but we’ll go one further.

  “I have a friend who’s a great make-up artist. He works at the Drury Lane theatre. I’ll wire him to come to Merebury. He’ll disguise you so well, your own father wouldn’t recognise you.”

  “Eddie, I really can’t,” began Henrietta, but Eddie caught her hands between his own and gazed into her eyes.

  “You cannot refuse Eddie,” he said. “If you refuse me, I’ll go tell everyone on this ship who you really are.”

  Henrietta was horrified.

  “Eddie, that would be a ”

  “A real low-down trick?” chuckled Eddie. “Sure it would. But I want the Prince of Wales to hear my music at its best. And when it comes to my music, I am so ruthless. Surely you knew that all along?”