Touching the Stars Page 7

  He wondered how long he would have to wait for Justina’s knock on his door.

  He picked up a paper from his desk, but did not start reading. Instead, he castigated himself for deserting the card table this afternoon.

  He should not have left Justina with Thomas Watson the way he had. He should have realised she would need protection. After all, it was not her fault he could not stand the man.

  Watson had an ancient title, but all the attributes of a cad and a bounder. He had known Thomas’s father, Septimus Watson. An upright, punctilious gentleman who had spent his years husbanding the estate and the business that Thomas, if rumour was to be believed, had now squandered.

  He realised that somehow he would have to make Watson aware that Justina Mansell was not someone who could be trifled with as he had trifled with other vulnerable girls.

  All too clearly he could remember Ariadne’s shocked disclosure of a story she had been told by one of Watson’s victims, a girl who was her cousin and who was left with a broken heart.

  Why, he wondered, was Watson pursuing Justina quite so hard?

  Her copper hair, freckled face, deep voice and frank approach made her stand out from the more usual debutantes, but he could have sworn that Watson would not in the normal course of events even have noticed her.

  At that moment there came a light knock on his door.

  “Well done,” he exclaimed as he opened it. “I expected you would take much longer to get ready.”

  “Papa always says a lady should not keep a gentleman waiting,” she said, her huge grey eyes shining up at him. “I would have been on time, but I had to ring for the Stewardess to fasten my dress.”

  There was no hint of flirtatiousness in her voice. It was a frank statement of fact.

  The dress itself was severely simple, its main attraction the colour, a shining pink that should have fought with Justina’s hair, but in some pleasing way highlighted the fire in the copper hue.

  “You look perfect,” he pronounced and her face flushed with pleasure.

  Reminding himself that she regarded him as a surrogate father or uncle, Lord Castleton shepherded Justina along the corridor to the Saloon.

  The moment they entered, Sir Thomas rose from his table and came forward.

  “I think I have the pleasure of Miss Mansell’s company this evening,” he said and the note of triumph in his voice made Lord Castleton want to punch him. Beside him he felt Justina tense and he controlled himself.

  “We emerged from our cabins at the same time. I have no claim on her company, but you cannot be so selfish as to monopolise her when we are so few tonight.”

  His jovial tone was quite unlike his usual, dispassionate delivery. He looked at the long table that ran down the centre of the room.

  “What say we all join together. I am sure the other passengers would appreciate a little feminine company?”

  This last remark was addressed to the half dozen or so men already seated at the table.

  “What a positively splendid idea,” said one.

  Two young bucks who had been sitting at the far end, as though they wanted to joke amongst themselves rather than mix with the middle-aged passengers, also rose.

  “I say, I think we ought to introduce ourselves.”

  Tony Price and Bertie Cartwright were both Subalterns on their way to their regiment in India and were delighted to join any party which included Justina.

  “I think you will find that Miss Mansell would prefer a more private table,” said Sir Thomas, trying to take her arm.

  Lord Castleton somehow managed to place his tall, commanding figure in a position that meant Justina was protected from Sir Thomas’s approach.

  “I say, Miss Mansell, you don’t really begrudge us the pleasure of your company?” said one of the Subalterns, holding out a chair for her in the centre of the table.

  She smiled gratefully at him as she sat down and the two young men swiftly placed themselves on either side of her. Sir Thomas had no option but to seat himself opposite.

  Lord Castleton waited for two other passengers to sit on the same side as Sir Thomas before he placed himself between them and Arthur Wright.

  He enjoyed the sight of Justina responding to the two young Officers rather as she would to obstreperous puppies.

  She seemed perfectly at ease and managed to ignore Sir Thomas, bad temperedly tapping the table.

  Arthur Wright said in a quiet tone that did not carry,

  “You are a diplomat of the first water, my Lord.”

  Lord Castleton said nothing.

  “It could have proved an awkward situation for her tonight,” Arthur continued. “It will be all right for her now, but I think you have made an enemy.”

  “He was one already.”

  The words were out before he could stop them.

  Arthur looked at him curiously.

  “I think it is going to be an interesting voyage,” he said finally.

  “Yes,” Lord Castleton told himself, “it will be most interesting.”

  He had meant to spend the journey acquainting himself with his mission, instead he had appointed himself as something between a guard-dog and a careful uncle to a delightful but too-innocent and naïve girl.

  Where would it lead?

  *

  The following day the motion of the ship was still keeping most of the passengers in their cabins, but the sun was shining.

  Lord Castleton went up early to the kennels to take Breck for a walk and found Justina already there, playing with an excited Muffin.

  Breck was soon released and the two dogs enjoyed themselves together while Lord Castleton and Justina walked them carefully round the upper deck.

  Justina was full of eager questions about India and he found himself describing his earlier visits. He was impressed with her intelligence and how interested she was in the culture and history of India.

  When they returned the dogs to their kennels, Lord Castleton watched, smiling, as Justina kissed Muffin and told her she would be fine.

  “I expect you have papers to study, my Lord?” said Justina as the Steward locked Muffin’s kennel.

  He wanted very much to suggest that they played cards together again, but knew it was not a sensible proposition.

  “Indeed, I do. What plans do you have?”

  “I need to check on my maid, Dorcas, and the Arbuthnots. Perhaps there is something I can do for the poor things. And then I want to practice on the piano in the Lounge. It seems days since I was last able to play.”

  He wished her luck and watched her battle with the pitch of the ship as she made her way down to Second Class and her sick servant.

  Back in his cabin he tried to feel grateful that she could be so unselfconscious with him, rather than regretful that she obviously looked on him as someone of her father’s generation.

  An hour later, he pushed away his papers and gave in to the compulsion that had been growing stronger and stronger as he tried to absorb their contents.

  He entered the Lounge and found a chair a little way from the piano.

  Justina was playing a Beethoven sonata, one that he knew well. She was so absorbed in her music, she had not noticed him. There was a tricky passage that she played over again and again.

  After listening to her for a little while, Lord Castleton walked up to the piano.

  “Can I suggest a slightly different fingering?” he said.

  She looked up at him, her face alight.

  “Please, I have been trying to master this passage and I don’t know why I am having such difficulty.”

  He sat on the piano stool beside her.

  “You are crossing over your hands for the chords. I find that keeping my left and right on their natural sides means I am better positioned for the continuation.”

  He demonstrated.

  Justina watched and then copied him.

  “Why, that is so much easier!” she cried. “I cannot understand why my teacher preferred the othe
r method.”

  “Looks more stylish?”

  She gave him one of her delightful grins.

  “I think you must know him, my Lord. Now, let me see if I can play the sonata from beginning to end.”

  He moved back to his armchair and listened with great enjoyment to her interpretation of one of his favourite Beethoven pieces.

  “Bravo,” he applauded at the end.

  “Now you must play something,” urged Justina.

  “I have a better idea. How about a duet?”

  “Splendid,” agreed Justina.

  She riffled through the little pile that sat on the piano and placed some music on the rack.

  It was a Schumann piece he used to play with Ariadne. For a moment he hesitated before slipping onto the seat beside Justina.

  She held her hands ready and looked at him for the cue to start. Soon they were playing together as though they had done so many times.

  Other passengers arrived during the piece and listened appreciatively. The applause at the end was enthusiastic.

  “Most pleasurable,” said Arthur. “Can we hope for an encore?”

  Lord Castleton looked at Justina.

  “Do you know this one?” he asked and started another of the duets he and Ariadne had often played together.

  Regretfully she shook her head.

  “Then, please, play something else yourself,” he said and went and sat beside the civil servant.

  For a moment it looked as though she would protest, but she gave him a smile and began a Chopin prelude.

  As it came to an end in came Sir Thomas.

  “Well, well,” he said with an open smile. “Miss Mansell, you offer delicious surprises at every turn. Seldom have I heard that piece given such delicacy of touch and interpretation. Please, play again.”

  Lord Castleton quietly rose and left the Lounge.

  Justina looked up at Sir Thomas, pleased at his sincere-sounding praise of her playing.

  As before, the sparkle in his brown eyes gave her a feeling of excitement. Dining alone with him was, she knew, unacceptable, but having him appreciate her playing was perfectly allowable. She smiled and began another Chopin piece.

  Almost immediately she noticed that Lord Castleton had left the Lounge and her enjoyment in the music evaporated.

  At the end of the piece, she closed the piano and rose.

  “Enough for today,” she said.

  She picked up her pile of music and left the Lounge.

  Dorcas was no better, but her Stewardess reassured Justina that it was just a matter of waiting for the seas to become calmer.

  There were a few more passengers at dinner that evening but not many. Once again there seemed to be general agreement that those present should congregate at the long table.

  Justina had gone down to the baggage deck and found the plainest of all of the dresses she had brought, a navy-blue taffeta gown trimmed with white satin.

  With her string of pearls around her neck, Justina thought that she looked neat if unexceptional.

  Until, that is, she met Lord Castleton in the corridor outside their cabins and saw the admiration in his eyes.

  His look awoke the strangest feeling in her breast.

  “Miss Mansell,” he began. “Every evening you manage to look more beautiful.”

  She smiled shyly at him, thinking how very elegant he looked in his evening dress, so sophisticated and handsome.

  Conversation at the table was very general and Sir Thomas contributed several interesting anecdotes on life in Bombay that had Justina asking him for more.

  She left the table at the end of the meal and found her way back to her cabin full of anticipation over reaching India.

  But she was enjoying the voyage more and more. She felt that Sir Thomas had to be one of the most exciting men she had met and Lord Castleton one of the nicest and most interesting.

  *

  It seemed natural to Justina to find Lord Castleton on the kennel deck early the following morning. She greeted him with delight and then found her attention caught by an unfamiliar sight.

  “Why, look, my Lord, land!” she cried, gazing over at the port side of the ship.

  “It’s Cape Finisterre,” Lord Castleton informed her. “It is the most westerly point of Europe.”

  “Have we now left the Bay of Biscay?”

  He nodded.

  “The seas should ease a little now. It’s been blowing so hard, though, that I doubt we shall reach calmer waters until tomorrow.”

  Nor did they.

  Doing her rounds of the seasickness victims, however, Justina found that the Arbuthnots were beginning to feel a little improvement. All three had been able to take a little refreshment.

  Dorcas, though, was still in a desperate condition and Justina grew so worried about her that the Stewardess suggested that the Surgeon should be asked to see her.

  He came immediately. After examining the maid, he told Justina that she was one of the unfortunate souls who took a long time to adjust to a ship’s motion.

  “Rest assured, Miss Mansell, that she will recover. I will provide a sedative that will help her to rest a little more easily.”

  Still worried but feeling now that everything that could be had been done, Justina returned to First Class.

  Almost immediately she encountered Sir Thomas, who insisted she accompany him in some songs.

  “As soon as the weather improves, there is bound to be an Entertainments Committee and I shall be asked to contribute a turn to the concert they will organise,” he told her.

  Sir Thomas hurried off and Justina practised scales until he returned with his music. It was a collection of ballads, most of which Justina recognised.

  Sir Thomas had a pleasant baritone and knew the songs by heart. He looked a fine figure as he stood in the curve of the piano, his fair hair immaculately brushed and a scarlet cravat at his throat.

  “You will be the star of the show,” enthused Justina as he reached the end of his practice recital. “But will there really be a concert?”

  “Of course,” he said with conviction. “We have to amuse ourselves. And I shall enjoy hearing you perform.”

  For once he spoke simply without the exaggerated compliments that disturbed Justina.

  The evening passed pleasantly with the long table now filling up with more passengers who had gained their sea legs.

  Justina welcomed the prospect of calmer seas but, as she enjoyed her dinner, she became aware that a precious part of her day was about to vanish. With the emergence of the Arbuthnots from their cabin, she would no longer be required to exercise Muffin.

  She looked down the table at Lord Castleton, deep in conversation with Arthur Wright and realised how much she would miss encountering him at the kennels.

  He looked up at that moment and gave her one of his friendly smiles.

  If he continued spending most of his time studying papers in his cabin, without their morning walks, she would hardly see him.

  *

  Next morning she hurried to the kennel deck.

  “Ah,” remarked Lord Castleton as soon as she appeared. “You are in your Sunday best.”

  Justina had abandoned the shabby clothes she had been wearing and put on the dark green barathea skirt and jacket with military frogging that had been her outfit for boarding the ship. It was very becoming and she was glad of its warmth in the brisk breeze.

  Muffin was whining to be released, but the kennel Steward said they would have to wait until later.

  “It’s Muster,” he explained. “I have to join the rest of the ship’s company.”

  Already they could see crewmen gathering on the main deck below.

  “Let’s watch,” suggested Lord Castleton. “It happens every Sunday morning and is quite a sight.”

  Justine looked on entranced as more and more men, all smartly dressed, crowded onto the deck until it seemed that there could not be a man left to attend to the sailing of the ship.

>   “Oh, there will be,” Lord Castleton assured her. “But only the very essential men. After the Muster there will be a fire and boat drill. Very reassuring for us passengers.”

  He smiled at Justina, his deep blue eyes very kind, and once again she felt her heart stop.

  “Then we have Divine Service,” he added.

  “So we will not be able to walk the dogs until much later,” Justina murmured, clutching at the rail as she directed her gaze at the now complete ship’s company.

  “I am afraid not,” said Lord Castleton ruefully.

  After Divine Service, Justina disappeared, saying she would be back shortly.

  Lord Castleton watched her neat little figure hurry off towards the cabin accommodation.

  There had been a goodly number of passengers assembled for the Service, and, as they dispersed, he saw Mrs. Arbuthnot and her daughters arrive on deck, followed by Stewards carrying deck chairs.

  “Lord Castleton!” Mrs. Arbuthnot waved at him. “Is it not splendid that the wind has given up its force? I have never suffered so much. Faith and Charity, my darling daughters, are also feeling so much better.”

  The two girls smiled at him, managing to appear at the same time both frail and in good health.

  “I am very happy to hear that, madam, and you will be happy to hear that Miss Mansell has been exercising Muffin every day.”

  “Indeed, I understand that the two of you have been sharing doggy experiences, she with my Muffin, you with your hound, my Lord. It is inestimably kind of you to have looked after poor little Miss Mansell. Alone as she is, since I and the girls have been so confined to our beds, she must have been very grateful for your attentions.”

  There was a none-too subtle undertone to this remark that made him determined to intervene, but Mrs. Arbuthnot was not yet done.

  “Indeed, the whole ship is talking about how close the two of you have become,” she continued with a roguish smile. “I am feeling that my role as duenna to dear Justina must be taken up again without delay if she is not to succumb to dangerous gossip. A girl’s reputation is so precious, it must not be allowed to be compromised –”

  “Madam,” intercepted Lord Castleton, infuriated beyond measure. “I cannot imagine who has been suggesting anything of the kind. As you know, I am a friend of Miss Mansell’s father. She and I are more than passing acquaintances. I therefore have a duty to keep what you might call the eye of a pater familias on Miss Mansell. I trust that you will correct any other impression that might be put forward.”