Page 14 of Murder on the SS Leviathan
Henry nodded to the elderly ladies, offering curt greetings before taking Cecile’s arm through his and leading her away.
‘Really, Henry, there’s no need to escort me quite so firmly.’
Only when they were some way off did he loosen his hold.
‘I take it, from the way you were standing there gawking, you’ve heard about this nasty business?’ His clipped manner told Cecile all she needed to know of her brother’s mood.
‘I was hardly—’
Henry didn’t give Cecile a chance to voice her protest. ‘A well-bred young lady would know not to loiter, listening to old cats’ tittle tattle.’
‘Really, Henry, I—’
He held his hand aloft, to silence whatever she was about to say. ‘Until further notice, I ask that you refrain from moving about the ship without either my company or that of Mr. Robinson.’
‘Mr. Robinson?’ At the mention of his name, Cecile felt her cheeks warm.
Henry sighed, his demeanour suddenly weary. ‘We’ve not been long acquainted, but I know an honourable man when I see one, and I’d lay stakes that he’s capable of protecting himself. Since I can hardly be with you every minute of the day, I’m asking him to share the burden.’
Cecile found herself unsure of how to respond.
Whatever had happened to Senhora Fonseca, awful as it was, it had nothing to do with her, or with any of them. Henry was overreacting, ruining what should be a wonderful trip.
Moreover, she ought to feel indignant at Mr. Robinson being cast in the role of bodyguard. Strangely, on that count, she couldn’t quite summon the requisite outrage.
There was no time for her to express any opinion, however, as Captain Rocha was crossing the deck towards them. Mr. Robinson and Lucrezia came to stand beside her.
‘You wish to speak to me Lord McCaulay? And Mr. Robinson?’ The captain’s eyes flicked briefly over Lucrezia and Cecile. ‘Further from the ladies, perhaps.’
Cecile gritted her teeth. It was always the same: men thinking they needed to protect a woman’s delicate sensibilities.
Lucrezia, meanwhile, clearly had ideas of her own, subtly altering her stance. ‘My hearing is very good,cara. Pretend that you talk with me, if you wish, but do so without making noise, so that I may learn.’
The gentlemen, no doubt, thought they were out of earshot but had overlooked the direction of the breeze. Even Cecile, with her back almost to them, was able to make out several phrases as the captain related his speculations.
‘…travelling alone…a lover…no theft and the door wasn’t forced…either she let him in, or he had a key’.
Cecile felt a rush of heat to her blood.But the woman had marks about her throat. What sort of lover would do that?
As if reading her mind, Lucrezia met her eye, shaking her head a fraction, continuing to listen.
Henry was speaking now, saying something about having seen someone the night before: a man behaving suspiciously.
Mr. Robinson seemed to have little to contribute. He’d slept soundly and hadn’t heard anything, even though his cabin was directly above.
The captain spoke again. ‘Better to let it lie…no wish to alarm the passengers…let her retain some dignity’.
Sourness filled Cecile’s mouth. They would brush the death of this young woman to one side for the sake of convenience, to avoid a scandal?
Again, a chill passed through her. Looking at Lucrezia, Cecile sensed she felt the same—her eyes strangely sombre and her cheek pale.
What if Senhora Fonseca’s death were not an accident. There were criminals, were there not, who could pick locks without leaving damage?
Had a murder been committed?
If so, was the person here now, watching?
Cecile whirled about, scanning the crowd still pressed about the dead woman’s room. Her gaze darted above, looking the length of the quieter upper-deck, where their own cabins were located.
