Page 24 of Murder on the SS Leviathan
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Cecile’s night had been a troubled one.
Even with the knowledge that her door was locked, each creak had brought her to a state of defensive readiness. Beneath the covers, she’d clutched a heavy, wooden bath brush, ready to duel any intruder.
Naturally, come morning, she’d told Lucrezia of all that had passed. Or, at least, most of what had occurred.
Cecile had expected her to be full of questions—as curious as she to hasten the captain’s search and discover the perpetrator of these ill deeds. Instead, her friend had merely berated her for becoming involved in other people’s troubles.
Meanwhile, despite Cecile being omitted from Mr. Robinson’s report, Henry had viewed events in the most serious light, commanding that she venture no further than the ship’s sunroom after taking breakfast.
The large windows offered a pleasant aspect, and the room’s pale blue hues were soothing, but there was no escaping the feeling of enforced constraint.
‘You are not still worrying?’ Lucrezia looked up from their game of Backgammon, the pieces slotted onto small pegs, to stop them sliding with the motion of the ship.
‘It will give you the wrinkles, and they will not suit you.’ She picked at the pastry on the plate beside her. ‘Remember that we know nothing of this Mr. Robinson. He is handsome, yes; but what does he do when we do not see him? He gambles, maybe—or he visits the women who think their husbands look the other way.’
Pulling a sultana from within the swirling layers, she popped it into her mouth. ‘This is the man you visit in the middle of the night because you hear noises from his bedroom?’ She clucked her tongue. ‘Have you learnt nothing,piccola?’
‘Do keep your voice down, Lucrezia. You make it sound so sordid, when it was nothing of the kind.’
Picking up the shaker, Cecile rattled the dice rather more forcefully than necessary. ‘You’re right that we know hardly anything—and what we do know derives from what he chooses to tell us—but you could say the same of anyone.’
Lucrezia shredded the pastry into long strips, but without consuming anything more. ‘I only suggest that, if you wish to tiptoe along night corridors, that you let me go with you. Three may be just as much fun as two; more so, if the chosen one has stamina. Your curiosity will be satisfied,cara, and it will make the journey go quicker.’
Cecile glowered but refrained from answering. Lucrezia’s compulsion to say what was shocking was best ignored. Really, she was led by such wild impulses that Cecile sometimes wondered if she knew Lucrezia at all.
As to her dislike of Mr. Robinson, Cecile wondered if there was an element of jealousy. Lucrezia’s history had been a sorry one, and Cecile was aware of how much Lucrezia relied upon her. Their friendship was paramount—but, it was hardly practical for Lucrezia to imagine that there would never be others for whom they might feel affinity.
Lucrezia rubbed her finger along the edge of the Backgammon board. ‘I didn’t want to tell youmia cara, and burst your pretty balloon, but this man you like has already propositioned me.’
Cecile banged down the shaker. ‘Lucrezia, that’s enough! Whatever you’re thinking, I don’t wish to hear it.’
‘I only say the same thing as always.’ Lucrezia raised her eyes to Cecile’s. ‘Men are all the same. What they believe is offered cannot be resisted.’
’Assuming that to be true, I’d appreciate you not offering it.’ Cecile disliked losing her temper, but the turn of this conversation was making her feel unusually snappish. Taking a deep breath, she willed herself to remain calm. ‘Can we not all be friends, Lucrezia?’
‘This is all you want from me now?’ Lucrezia turned her face to the wide view of endless ocean. ‘Is it Lady McCaulay who tells you to do this, or your brother? To leave me and make the respectable marriage? Then, I shall be for you only the second-thought.’
The hitch in her voice spoke of vulnerability, of the fear that must have haunted her since childhood—of being rejected, abandoned, unwanted.
Cecile’s heart responded immediately. Reaching across the table, she took Lucrezia’s hand in hers. ‘You’ll always be more to me than a second-thought, Lucrezia. We shall be friends, forever. You know that.’
Sniffing, Lucrezia returned the pressure of Cecile’s hand. ‘You and I, until our last days?’
‘Of course.’ Cecile found that her nose, too, required blowing.
No sooner had she done so than she saw Lucrezia’s eyes flash. Lance had promised to come and find her, to let her know how the investigation proceeded, and he was now heading directly towards them.
Cecile tucked her handkerchief away promptly, and hoped very much that her nose wasn’t looking too red.
‘Good afternoon, ladies.’ Having greeted them, he glanced at the board. ‘It looks as though Miss di Cavour is taking the game.’
Lucrezia gave a small smile. ‘I like very much to triumph. And what of you, Mr. Robinson?’ She tipped back her head to inspect him. ‘Were you victorious?’
It seemed he’d paid the doctor a visit after all, for there were now two stitches across his brow. Beneath, his eye was bruised and his cheek swollen.
‘I suppose you’d call it that, since I’m here to tell the tale.’
