The fact that Jamie has seen Mr. Stewart nearly bypasses my brain. “She—Charlotte—hired you to walk her dog? I thought third-class passengers weren’t allowed on the upper-class decks.”
“She got permission. Apparently, I’m the only one who can calm that poodle. Dogs get seasick, too, you know.”
“When does this walking happen?”
He glances at a clock on the wall. It’s nearly one o’clock. “Soon.”
“Does she know about your acrobatic ability?”
“We might have talked about it a little.”
“Huh.” He doesn’t breathe a word about our acts to the lads he has lived and worked with, but when a hen comes pecking, the rooster’s all crow. “Does she know about me?”
He lifts one of his well-shaped eyebrows. “Aye. What are you up to?”
“Would Charlotte help us with a little ruse?”
“Maybe.”
“Can we trust her?”
“I think the harder question is, will she trust us?”
I guffaw. “She can trust me. You’re a strange cove she just met. I wouldn’t trust you.”
He sighs and his face becomes serious. “Val, I need you to understand. Even if we do get to perform for Mr. Stewart, I’m not going to America.”
My spine bumps hard against the bench. I bite back my disappointment and nod gamely. If he thinks I still hold out hope for him, he’ll take back his offer. “I understand.” But even as I say it, I can’t help but hope that once he remembers how good it feels to fly, to defy the laws of gravity in the space of a breath, he will change his mind.
19
Disguised once again in my kimono dress, tan pumps, vanilla coat, and hat, I stroll to our appointed meeting spot on the promenade, just outside the entrance to A-Deck. A small table features lemonade, free for the taking. I pour myself a glass.
Only a few stepping-stones remain for me to cross this river, and getting an audience with Mr. Stewart is one large but necessary leap. But he is a private man. What if he refuses to be baited? What if he doesn’t have time for a two-bit circus act like us?
I chase away those thoughts. I’ve prepared hard for this moment, and I cannot watch the river rushing under me if I want to reach dry land.
Beneath an arched window, Jamie squats beside Strudel the poodle, stroking her ears. Charlotte stands on the dog’s other side, twisting her heel into the deck and gazing at Jamie as if he’s the world’s last nut and she’s the last squirrel. Her apricot suit with cream lace puts me in mind of the breakfast pastry I ate this morning. When she sees me, she stops moving about. “Oh! You must be”—she lowers her voice to a whisper—“Valora.”
Strudel greets me with a yip-yip!
“Miss Fine.” We stand the same height, though her arms and hips are rounder. She smells of sweet peas.
“Just Charlotte, please. The Merry Widow, they call you. There are rumors you’re a young baroness and that you haven’t spoken a word since your husband died falling off his horse.”
Did April start that rumor? It is a good one. Tragic with a touch of mystery.
“Everyone is dying over your clothes,” Charlotte continues. “I think you’re very brave, going to America all by yourself.”
Not all by myself, if I can help it. “We appreciate your assistance in getting me there.” I casually lift my glass, only to realize I’d have to lift my veil to drink.
“So what’s the plan?” Jamie gets to his feet and takes the leash from Charlotte.
Twenty paces behind him, a pair of women in fur coats stare at us. It must be me in my veil and kimono, which peeks through the open front of my vanilla coat and spills out the bottom like blue flames. But peering closer, I realize it’s not me who has caught their attention, but Jamie.
Jamie cocks an eyebrow at me. “The plan?” he repeats.
I hope those women move along soon. “The plan is just play along.”
“‘Just play along’ sounds half-baked.”
I inhale so sharply, the bee-swarm veil sticks to my lips. I blow it out in irritation. “If you have a better one, pipe up now. We’re on a schedule.”
“Yip!” Strudel chimes in. Her puff of a tail sways like a lady’s arm powdering her face.
Charlotte combs her manicured fingernails through Strudel’s curly hair. “Don’t worry, Jamie. I’m good at playacting. My great-aunt was an actress.”
Some of my annoyance shifts to her, daring to play peacemaker between the dragon and the phoenix. Jamie needs to relax. How am I supposed to know what the moment will require? He’s just trying to impress Charlotte by showing that he has things under control when he doesn’t.
A crewman strides up from the direction of the women in the fur coats. He looks down his bean-shaped nose at Jamie, who’s straightening Strudel’s leash. “Oy, you ain’t supposed to be here. Go on, now.”
“He has every right to be here.” Charlotte’s buttermilk voice has become frosty. “He is my dog walker.”
“Dog walker?” The crewman glances at the women in the fur coats, who have retreated farther down the Promenade but are still watching us.
A scowl mars Jamie’s smooth face, and his chest moves as if a cinder block has been placed on top of it. Strudel stares up at him, her feet jittering, and I swear that little dog knows just what Jamie’s feeling, too. It isn’t easy having to be defended when your instinct is to defend.
“Are you so light of chores that you must stoop to harassing dog walkers?” I ask.
Charlotte tips up her nose. “Chief Purser McElroy himself assured me Jamie could be here as I required.”
Jamie threads his arms tight, glowering ineffectually at the crewman’s midsection.
The crewman coughs, and his kidney-bean nose turns even redder. “I’m sorry, miss. I didn’t know.”
Charlotte’s smile swoops down on him. “Now you do. Good day.”
I push my full glass of lemonade at the man. “Please take care of this for me. It’s not to my taste.”
“Certainly, ma’am.” He takes the glass and makes tracks away.
“I’m off,” Jamie says gruffly, avoiding Charlotte’s eyes. “Good luck.”
Strudel tugs him toward the bow. When he passes the women in the fur coats, he ignores them, though if it were me, I would’ve speared them with a good eyeball javelin. Jamie always outclasses me.