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- Herausgeber: Allison & Busby
- Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
- Serie: Ocean Liner Mysteries
- Sprache: Englisch
A maritime mystery from Edward Marston, author of the bestselling Railway Detective series. Egypt, 1908. George Dillman and Genevieve Masefield, used to the grand opulence of the Cunard cruise line, are at first disappointed with the Marmora, a small, unimpressive ship owned by the P&O shipping line. Employed by P&O to be the ship's detectives, Dillman and Masefield expect to encounter the usual assortment of petty thieves and confidence tricksters. But this cruise is certain to be unique as the Duke and Duchess of Fife and their children are aboard and the detectives will provide security for the royals. And when a dead body turns up, the voyage proves to be one to remember. Keeping the demise of the poor victim a secret on such a small ship is tough enough but suspects abound, meaning Dillman and Masefield have their work cut out for them. Previously published under the name Conrad Allen, the Ocean Liner series casts off for a new generation of readers.
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Seitenzahl: 436
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022
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5
MURDER ON THE MARMORA
EDWARD MARSTON
To my beloved granddaughter, Carys Ellen, in the hope that she may one day read this book.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
December 1908
She was a disappointment. The first time that he saw her, George Porter Dillman felt as if he had somehow been let down. After the Cunard liners on which he had regularly crossed the Atlantic, the Marmora looked curiously small and unimpressive. Built in 1903, she was the first P&O vessel to exceed ten thousand gross tons but that meant she was still only a third of the size of the Lusitania and the Mauretania, so beloved by Dillman, who had been fortunate enough to sail on the maiden voyages of both ships. While the two massive Cunarders each carried over three thousand people aboard, the Marmora had little more than nine hundred. Nor could the P&O ship hope to match them for pace. The greyhounds of the seas could achieve a maximum speed of over twenty-six knots. At full pelt, the Marmora could only edge above eighteen knots and was more comfortable at an unhurried fourteen or fifteen.
It was, Dillman realised, unfair to measure the smaller ship against two giants of oceanic travel. He was not comparing like with like. The Marmora was no transatlantic liner, built to power its way through the most dangerous waters on the globe. It was an elegant vessel that cruised halfway around the world, taking its passengers on a more leisurely and varied route, filled with visual interest. For that reason, Dillman was looking forward to his first voyage with his new employer, P&O or, to give the line its full name, the Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation Company. Since they were setting sail in December, he would be spending Christmas at sea, and that would be a novel experience for him.
When he went up the gangway at Tilbury, therefore, he did so with alacrity. The Marmora posed a new challenge and it was one that he was eager to accept. Like everyone else streaming onto the ship, he was wrapped up warmly against the cold weather. Dillman wore a heavy overcoat, a homburg hat, scarf, and gloves but his luggage contained clothing for much warmer climes. The festive season would be celebrated in blazing sunshine.
As soon as he had been shown to his cabin, he unpacked his things then went off to report to the purser, Brian Kilhendry. He was invited into an office that had an overwhelming sense of order about it. Documents and papers on the desk were stacked in neat piles, and even the artificial flowers in a vase on the wooden filing cabinet had been arranged in the tidiest positions. As a private detective, Dillman worked very closely with the ship’s purser and he had always enjoyed a cordial relationship with those holding the office on Cunard ships. They had been courteous, efficient, and extremely helpful.
From the moment he met Brian Kilhendry, however, he had the feeling that this purser would be the exception to the rule. The Irishman was a stocky man of middle height with curly ginger hair that was starting to thin rapidly. Now in his thirties, Kilhendry, a striking figure in a spotless uniform, had the face of a professional boxer. The broken nose lent him a strange charm. He gave Dillman a brisk handshake before waving him to a chair.
‘So,’ said Kilhendry, eyeing him shrewdly through narrowed lids, ‘you’re the famous George Dillman, are you?’
‘I don’t lay any claims to fame, Mr Kilhendry,’ replied Dillman.
‘You’re far too modest.’
‘Am I?’
‘Apparently,’ said the purser with the tiniest hint of mockery in his voice. ‘I’ve a friend who works for Cunard and he tells me that you’re a one-man law enforcement agency. You solve crimes almost as soon as they’re committed.’
‘If only that were true. But I’m afraid it isn’t.’
‘No?’
‘To begin with,’ said Dillman, ‘I’m not a one-man operation. I work in tandem with my partner, Genevieve Masefield. She deserves as much credit as I do for any success that we’ve enjoyed.’
‘Oh, yes. I know. My friend told me lots of things about Miss Masefield.’
‘Complimentary things, I hope.’
‘For the most part.’
Dillman did not like the smirk that accompanied Kilhendry’s remark. There was an implied criticism of his partner to which he strongly objected. The purser’s manner was annoying him. Dillman concealed his irritation behind a bland smile.
‘On which ship does your friend sail?’ he asked. ‘He’s second officer on the Caronia.’
‘She’s a trim vessel. We made four crossings in her.’
‘Arresting people right, left, and centre, from what I hear.’
‘Only when they deserved it, Mr Kilhendry.’
‘You even solved a murder on the Caronia,’ the purser noted.
‘We did what we were paid to do,’ Dillman said quietly, ‘and we’ll endeavour to provide the same service on the Marmora.’
‘I doubt very much if it will be needed.’
‘All passenger lists tend to have a small criminal element in them.’
‘Yes,’ Kilhendry said airily. ‘We do have the occasional thief, pickpocket, and cardsharp aboard but I pride myself on being able to spot them before too long. I’ve a nose for villains, Mr Dillman, and so does my deputy, Martin Grandage. There’s not much that gets past us, I promise you.’
‘How do you know?’
The purser was checked. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well,’ said Dillman, ‘how can you be sure that dozens of crimes have not taken place on board that you and your deputy simply failed to detect? Anyone can spot the obvious crooks, but some are very sophisticated these days. They plan things with great care and know how to cover their tracks.’
‘Not on the Marmora,’ boasted Kilhendry. ‘I run a clean ship.’
‘That remains to be seen.’
‘I know this vessel, Mr Dillman – you don’t.’
‘Granted,’ said the detective. ‘But even you don’t have an intimate knowledge of every passenger on this voyage. There’ll be over four hundred and fifty of them in all. Your nose will have to be ubiquitous to sniff its way through that lot.’
The purser’s eyes flashed. ‘Don’t you get clever with me!’ he warned. ‘I’m just trying to let you know where we stand.’
‘Oh, I’ve worked that out, Mr Kilhendry. You don’t really want us here.’
‘What I don’t want is to have anyone treading on my toes.’
‘In other words, you’re marking out your territory.’
‘The Marmora is my ship.’
‘Captain Langbourne might dispute that,’ Dillman said wryly. ‘So might P&O. However possessive you may feel about it, the ship is owned by the company. They hire all of us to sail in her with specific duties. And I may as well tell you now,’ he added, rising to his feet, ‘that we intend to earn our wages from P&O, even if that means treading on a few toes.’
‘I can see we’re not going to get on,’ said Kilhendry, curling a lip.
‘You’d decided that before I even came in here.’
‘With good reason, Mr Dillman. I don’t like Americans.’
‘Ah,’ sighed the other. ‘So that’s what you have against me: my accent.’
‘No – your attitude. Americans always seem to think they own the world.’
‘It’s not a delusion from which I’ve ever suffered,’ said Dillman with a grin. ‘Beware of generalisations, Mr Kilhendry. They’re always misleading. For instance, I’ve heard that all Irishmen are pugnacious yet you are the soul of restraint.’
The purser’s body tensed and his eyes flashed again but he quickly regained his composure. Reaching for some papers on the desk, he handed them to Dillman and became business like.
‘Here are the passenger lists for first and second class,’ he explained. ‘As you know, we have no third class or steerage. Unlike Cunard, who pack their liners with emigrants, we only cater to people who can afford some luxury.’
‘Then they’re entitled to get what they pay for,’ said Dillman. ‘I’ve also given you a diagram of the ship. The Marmora has only five passenger decks. I’m sure that you’ll soon find your way around each one of them.’
‘We will, Mr Kilhendry.’
‘Make yourself known to my deputy.’
‘Mr Grandage?’
‘Yes,’ said the purser. ‘We have royalty aboard until we reach Port Said. That means that I’ll have my hands full. I don’t want you bothering me every five minutes to tell me you caught someone stealing a handkerchief or that you think a certain passenger is cheating at poker. Report to Martin Grandage instead.’
‘What if a serious crime is involved?’
‘We don’t have serious crimes on P&O ships, Mr Dillman. At least, not on the ones where I’m the purser. I told you before. I run a clean ship.’
‘There’s always someone who’ll try to dirty it for you.’
‘That’s where you and Miss Masefield come in,’ said Kilhendry with a touch of disdain. ‘Wipe up the mess before I even see it. Do you think that you can manage that?’
‘We’ll do our best.’
‘Good.’ He gave a cold smile. ‘Welcome aboard, Mr Dillman!’
Genevieve Masefield had done it so many times before that it had become a matter of course. She travelled to the port with the other passengers, befriended a number of them on the way, then slipped aboard as part of a small group. On this occasion, she had a choice of companions. The Cheriton family, who had met her on the way to Tilbury, were more than ready to adopt her but Genevieve chose instead to board the ship with Myra and Lilian Cathcart, whom she had rescued from the attentions of an overzealous customs officer. In the space of a few minutes, Genevieve had got to know and like the two women. All three of them came out of the customs shed and paused to take a first approving look at the Marmora with her sleek lines, her two tall funnels, and her distinctive P&O flag, fluttering at the masthead. Genevieve saw her as a refreshing change from the Cunard liners to which she had become accustomed.
‘You’ve obviously been abroad before, Miss Masefield,’ observed Myra with admiration. ‘I could see it from the way you handled that bossy individual in the customs shed. Have you sailed on a ship as big as this before?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Genevieve.
‘We’ve only been to France on a ferry from Dover. This is the first time we’ve been farther afield and we’re so terribly excited about it.’ She turned to her daughter. ‘Aren’t we, Lilian?’
‘Yes, Mother,’ said Lilian with a diffident smile.
‘My husband hated to travel,’ Myra continued. ‘That’s why we always spent our holidays somewhere in England. It was an effort to get Herbert to take us anywhere. Wasn’t it, Lilian?’
‘Yes, Mother.’
‘That’s not a complaint, mark you. I was happily married for twenty-four years and I have the fondest memories of my husband. But I do wish he’d been a little more adventurous with regard to travel. Don’t you, Lilian?’
‘Yes, Mother,’ her daughter agreed obediently.
Myra Cathcart was a tall, slim, handsome woman in her late forties with a zest about her that was not muffled by the thick fur coat and hat she was wearing. She seemed to exude vitality. While Lilian had inherited her mother’s classical features, she had nothing like the same spirit. Shy and self-deprecating, she glanced around nervously as if expecting someone to tap her on the shoulder and accuse her of some nameless transgression. She looked so young and hesitant that it was difficult to believe that she was twenty-two years of age. Having mourned her late husband for a decent interval, Myra was embarking on the cruise of a lifetime with real enthusiasm. Lilian, by contrast, gave the impression that she was being dragged reluctantly along.
‘Well,’ said Myra, nudging her daughter, ‘what do you think of the Marmora?’
‘Very big,’ replied Lilian.
‘It will take us all the way to Egypt.’
‘But it’s such a long way to go, Mother. Will we be safe?’
‘Of course.’
‘P&O has an excellent safety record,’ said Genevieve, trying to reassure Lilian. ‘Have no fears about the Marmora. She’s done the trip a number of times without the slightest mishap.’
‘Lilian is a worrier by nature,’ said Myra. ‘She’ll feel better once we’re aboard.’
Her daughter was doubtful. ‘Will I, Mother?’
‘You know that you will, dear. Come along.’
The trio joined the other passengers who were walking towards the ship. Myra Cathcart moved forward with a confident step but Genevieve noticed how wary the daughter was. The closer they got to the vessel, the more unsettled Lilian became. Without warning, she came to a sudden halt, as if having second thoughts about the whole enterprise. The other women stopped beside her.
‘What’s wrong, Lilian?’ asked her mother.
‘I don’t know.’
‘This is a special moment for us. Savour it.’
‘I wish that I could, Mother,’ said Lilian with a shiver, ‘but I’m frightened.’
‘Of what? Of whom?’
‘Of everything.’
‘That’s perfectly normal,’ said Genevieve, taking over. ‘The first time I was about to cross the Atlantic, I was quietly terrified. I imagined all kinds of disasters taking place. In the event, it was a very smooth voyage with no problems at all.’
It was not exactly true, but Genevieve was certainly not going to tell her new friends about the murder that took place on board the maiden voyage of the Lusitania, or describe the way she had become involved in helping to catch the killer. Lilian needed to be soothed, not further alarmed by the story of a gruesome crime at sea. Genevieve felt great sympathy for her. She put a comforting hand on Lilian’s arm.
‘Think of the tales you’ll be able to tell your friends when you get back to England,’ she said. ‘They’ll be green with envy when they hear that you rubbed shoulders with royalty.’
‘Yes,’ said Myra, smiling at her daughter. ‘The Princess Royal and her husband will be travelling with us. I wonder if she’ll wear a crown for dinner. It will be such fun to find out, Lilian, won’t it?’
‘I suppose so,’ murmured her daughter.
Myra became concerned. ‘What is wrong with you?’
‘Do you feel unwell?’ asked Genevieve. ‘They have a doctor aboard, you know.’
Lilian shook her head.
‘Why are you holding back like this?’ asked Myra.
‘I keep thinking about that other ship,’ said Lilian.
‘What other ship, dear?’ wondered her mother.
‘The one that I read about in the newspaper last year. It was called the Mervinian. I’ll never forget that name because of what happened to the crew. It was a cargo vessel that foundered in the Bay of Biscay.’ Lilian gave an involuntary shudder. ‘Six of the crew were drowned. After a week in an open boat, the survivors were picked up by our very own ship, the Marmora. They were in a terrible state.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Myra, ‘but it has nothing to do with us.’
‘It has, Mother. We’ll be sailing past the Bay of Biscay.’
‘But in a much larger vessel than the cargo ship,’ Genevieve pointed out. ‘The Marmora is big enough to handle rough seas. She’s been built for that purpose. You’ll be surprised how stable she is, Lilian.’
‘It won’t help me to forget the six men who drowned.’
Myra clicked her tongue. ‘Why do you always remember bad news?’ she said. ‘It’s morbid, Lilian. I’m taking you on this voyage so that you can enjoy yourself, not brood on other people’s tragedies.’ She took her daughter firmly by the arm. ‘Now, let’s not detain Miss Masefield any longer. What will she think of us?’
The three of them set off again then took their place in the queue at the gangway. When they finally stepped on board, Myra Cathcart laughed with an almost childlike glee but her daughter remained withdrawn and fearful. Lilian had an inner sadness that showed in her face and manner. Genevieve wondered how that sadness had come about in the first place. Like her friends, she was travelling first class and followed a steward when her cabin was assigned to her. Myra was thrilled to discover that their cabin was only four doors away and they were, in effect, neighbours. Genevieve was not quite so pleased about the proximity of the Cathcarts. While she found them pleasant company, she did not wish to be monopolised by them or it would hamper her work as a detective.
She had an early illustration of the danger. Before she had even had time to unpack her trunk, there was a tap on the door. Genevieve opened it to admit a beaming Myra Cathcart. The older woman had shed her fur coat, revealing that she was wearing a Zouave jacket and an intricately embroidered skirt that brushed the floor. Her fur hat was still firmly in place.
‘You must come and see our cabin, Miss Masefield,’ she insisted. ‘It’s perfect for our needs. Even Lilian was impressed by the clever way it’s been designed. It’s similar to this one,’ she went on, looking around, ‘but somewhat larger. Do come and see it.’
‘I’d like to, Mrs Cathcart,’ said Genevieve, taking some more items from the trunk. ‘When I’ve finished hanging everything up.’
‘I’m far too excited to unpack. There’s plenty of time for that.’
‘I hate things to get creased.’
‘What a gorgeous dress!’ remarked the other as Genevieve hung a blue evening gown in the wardrobe. ‘Oh, I do wish Lilian had the courage to wear something like that! But I’m afraid she only chooses clothes that she can hide behind. Whereas you,’ she said, indicating the smart two-piece suit Genevieve was wearing, ‘know exactly how an attractive young woman should dress.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Cathcart.’ Genevieve had also removed her topcoat to give herself freedom of movement and placed her wide-brimmed hat with its ostrich feather on the little table.
Now that she was able to see her properly, Myra realised how poised and beautiful Genevieve was; she had a natural grace that made the visitor sigh with envy.
‘If only Lilian were as brave as you!’
‘There’s nothing brave about unpacking a trunk.’
‘I was thinking about this voyage,’ said Myra. ‘You’re travelling alone without the slightest qualms, but Lilian is in a state of anxiety even though I’m there to hold her hand. You have such a wonderful air of independence.’
‘It’s something I’ve had to cultivate, Mrs Cathcart.’
‘Do tell my daughter how you did it. She needs instruction.’
‘I’m sure that this voyage will be an education in itself.’
‘I hope so. It’s one of the reasons I decided to come on this cruise.’ Myra gave a confiding smile. ‘The main reason, of course, is that I’ve always wanted to see the world and I finally have the opportunity to indulge my fantasies. Is that why you’re sailing on the Marmora?’
‘To some extent,’ replied Genevieve.
After hovering for another minute, her visitor pressed her to join them in their cabin, then let herself out. Myra Cathcart was going to be a problem. Genevieve had the feeling that she had been identified as the daughter Myra wished she had in place of the timid and melancholy Lilian. She was afraid that the older woman would soon make a habit of popping along the passageway to speak to her. When she finished unpacking, Genevieve waited for a quarter of an hour before she finally went to find the others. There was no need to knock on the door. Myra Cathcart, obligingly, had left it open. At the very moment when she got there, Genevieve saw someone emerge from a cabin farther down the passageway and walk away from her. Though she only caught the briefest glimpse of the man, it was enough to make her gasp in surprise. The shock of recognition caused her face to turn white.
Myra Cathcart swooped down on her then saw the apprehension in her eyes.
‘What’s the matter?’ she asked. ‘You look as if you’ve just seen a ghost.’
CHAPTER TWO
MartinGrandage was a tall, strapping, dark-haired Englishman in his early thirties who was beginning to run to fat. His chubby face was lit by an almost permanent smile and he was unfailingly polite and friendly. When Dillman first saw the deputy purser, Grandage was helping an elderly female passenger out onto the main deck. The detective waited until the man was free before he introduced himself.
‘Mr Grandage?’ he said, offering his hand. ‘My name is George Dillman. I was told to make myself known to you.’
‘How do you do, Mr Dillman?’ said Grandage, shaking his hand warmly. ‘This is a real privilege for me. Your reputation goes before you.’
‘That’s what Mr Kilhendry said.’
‘You’ve spoken to Brian, then?’
‘Not exactly,’ replied Dillman. ‘I spent most of the time listening.’
Grandage laughed. ‘Brian is like that. He has to let you know that he’s in charge. But he’s a first-rate purser and his bark is far worse than his bite. The problem is, I fear, that he has something of a phobia about Americans.’
‘Isn’t that a handicap?’
‘In what way?’
‘Well, he must meet scores of my fellow countrymen in the course of his work. Does he ignore them or just give them all the evil eye?’
‘Neither,’ said Grandage. ‘He turns on that Irish charm of his.’
‘I can’t say I saw any sign of it.’
‘That’s the other problem you need to know about, Mr Dillman. You’re at something of a disadvantage. Brian Kilhendry sees you as a Cunard man. An outsider. He’s fiercely loyal to P&O. As far as he’s concerned, you’re an interloper.’
‘I’m glad you don’t seem to share that opinion, Mr Grandage.’
‘Not at all,’ the other said earnestly. ‘I’m looking forward to working alongside you and Miss Masefield. I’m hoping to pick up a few tips.’
‘Don’t watch us too closely,’ advised Dillman, ‘or you’ll draw attention to us. We like to blend in with the other passengers. Invisibility is our main weapon.’
‘It’s the opposite with us. That’s why they put us into these uniforms. People can see at a glance who we are and what we do.’ He patted his chest. ‘These gold buttons are supposed to impress people. I hope they work. I had to sew them on myself.’ Grandage gave a chuckle then regarded the detective with interest. ‘What brought you into this line of work, Mr Dillman?’
Dillman gave a shrug. ‘Pure accident, I guess. I set out to be an actor but I spent most of my time auditioning for parts that I never actually got. In order to feed and clothe myself, I became a Pinkerton man and discovered that my acting skills were of immense value. I played far more parts for the Pinkerton Agency than I ever did onstage.’
‘But what enticed you into the nautical world?’
‘An offer that I couldn’t refuse,’ explained Dillman. ‘The sea is in my blood, Mr Grandage. I come from a family that builds ocean-going yachts. My formative years were spent afloat. Whenever I step on a ship, I feel at home.’
‘So do I,’ said Grandage. ‘With all its faults, I love this job.’
‘Then you’re a man after my own heart.’
Dillman warmed to him immediately. After his abrasive interview with the purser, he was relieved to find the deputy so friendly and cooperative. Dillman was glad that he would be dealing for the most part with Martin Grandage, and he knew his partner would feel the same. Unlike Kilhendry, the deputy purser was on their side.
‘This is not the best place to talk,’ said Grandage, as more passengers came out to swell the numbers on the main deck. ‘I’d appreciate a proper chat with you and Miss Masefield later on.’
‘Where will we find you?’
‘My office is very close to Brian Kilhendry’s.’
‘Right,’ said Dillman. ‘We’ll choose a quiet moment.’
Grandage chuckled. ‘There are no quiet moments on the Marmora, I’m afraid.’ A buzz of curiosity came from the crowd that was gathering at the rail. ‘It looks as if the royal party is just arriving. I’ll have to go.’
‘Nice to have met you, Mr Grandage.’
‘The pleasure is all mine.’ He shook Dillman’s hand again. ‘Welcome aboard!’
He sounded as if he really meant it.
Genevieve Masefield decided she had been mistaken. The man she had glimpsed in the passageway could not possibly be the person she feared he might be. It was too great a coincidence. She had seen him only in profile for a fleeting second, and that was not nearly long enough for her to make a positive identification.
Her sense of guilt had got the better of her. By the time she finished admiring the cabin occupied by Myra and Lilian Cathcart, she had dismissed the incident from her mind. Like her friends, she was keen to be on deck at the moment of departure. After retrieving her coat and hat, she led the way to the exit. Their cabins were on the promenade deck, and most of the other passengers accommodated there were already at the rail.
Genevieve and the Cathcarts got there in time to witness the arrival of the Princess Royal and her family. They were getting out of the gleaming car that had driven right up to the ship. Two other vehicles were heavily laden with trunks and valises for the royal party. Porters descended on them at once and started to unload them.
‘I don’t think they had to bother with customs,’ Myra said enviously. ‘That man who questioned me was so disagreeable – I mean to say, do I look like a smuggler?’
‘Of course not, Mrs Cathcart,’ said Genevieve. ‘You were very unlucky.’
‘Until you came to my aid. You really put him in his place.’
‘I knew the ropes, that’s all.’
They leaned over the rail to watch the royal party coming on board. Members of the crew formed in two lines below and, at the top of the gangway, Captain Langbourne was waiting to greet his special guests. The two children came first, followed by their parents. All four of them were dressed in winter wear.
Lilian came to life for the first time and gave a breathless commentary. ‘That’s Lady Alexandra on the left,’ she said, pointing a gloved finger. ‘She’s seventeen. Lady Maud is only fourteen. They’re such lovely girls. Doesn’t the Princess Royal look stately? You can tell that she has royal blood. Her husband is the Duke of Fife. He was only an earl when he met his future wife but he was created a duke upon their marriage in 1889.’
‘You seem very well informed,’ said Genevieve.
‘Lilian has a passionate interest in the royal family,’ Myra told her. ‘She has a scrapbook filled with cuttings from the newspapers. There’s nothing that Lilian doesn’t know about even minor royalty.’
‘I think they’re wonderful, Mother.’
‘So do we all, dear.’
‘The Duke is so handsome, isn’t he?’ continued Lilian, staring at the tall figure in the top hat. ‘He’s eighteen years older than the Princess Royal. That means he’s only eight years younger than the King himself, but it makes no difference. They’re very happily married. You can see that even from here.’
Genevieve could see nothing because the newcomers had gone up the gangway and stepped aboard. She was pleased to see Lilian so animated. It proved she was not as coy and submissive as she had first appeared. Genevieve looked forward to learning more about Lilian Cathcart.
It was Myra who took up the conversation, however. ‘An eighteen-year gap in ages,’ she said. ‘That’s far too much, in my opinion.’
Lilian became defensive. ‘They’re ideally suited, Mother.’
‘But they belong to different generations.’
‘That doesn’t matter.’
‘I believe it does, Lilian. Marriage is about common interests.’
‘They love each other,’ asserted her daughter. ‘Isn’t that enough?’
‘I’m sure that it is,’ said Genevieve. ‘I’ve known cases where the husband and wife have been separated by twenty years or more, yet they’ve been very contented. By the same token, I’ve met married couples of similar ages who hate each other. Children make a huge difference, of course. They help to bind a family together.’
‘Would you like to have children, Miss Masefield?’ asked Myra.
‘It’s not something I’ve ever thought about, to be honest.’
‘But you’re bound to marry one day. You must have dozens of admirers.’
‘Admirers don’t always think in terms of proposals of marriage,’ Genevieve said with a smile. ‘That’s why one has to be so careful.’
‘What sort of man would you choose, Miss Masefield?’ said Lilian.
‘One that I could love and trust.’
‘And one that could support you properly,’ added Myra, as if giving a note to her daughter. ‘Love, trust, and a reliable income are the bedrock of a happy marriage.’
‘I don’t agree,’ said Genevieve. ‘If money is a prime factor, then the whole business becomes a trifle mercenary. I think I’d prefer a poor husband, whom I adored, than a rich one I could never trust.’
‘How would you pay the bills?’
‘Together.’
Myra was shocked. ‘Surely, you’d not expect to work after marriage?’
‘Why not?’
‘Looking after a husband is a full-time occupation.’
‘That depends on the husband, Mrs Cathcart.’
‘Mine would have been horrified if I’d even contemplated taking a job.’
‘Father was horrified at most things,’ Lilian said sadly. ‘Change of any kind frightened him. He felt that women were simply there as a form of decoration.’
‘Lilian!’ Myra exclaimed.
‘It’s true, Mother. I revere his memory but I also remember that he spent all his time stopping me from doing things I wanted to do.’
‘Only because they were inappropriate. I’m ashamed of you for giving Miss Masefield the wrong idea about your father. He doted on you. Show some gratitude,’ she urged. ‘It’s only because he left us so well provided-for that we can afford this cruise.’
‘What did your husband do?’ asked Genevieve.
‘He sold shoes,’ Myra said proudly. ‘Herbert owned two factories and a chain of shoe shops in the Midlands. “A nation walks on its feet” – that’s what he always said. He made sure that anyone in Cathcart Shoes walked comfortably.’ She smiled fondly. ‘He was a remarkable man in his own way. He worked so hard for us. Too hard, in fact.’
Lilian bit her lip. ‘Please don’t,’ she said. ‘It only upsets me.’
‘Then let’s have no more unkind remarks about your father.’
‘I wasn’t being unkind, only honest.’ Myra quelled her with a glare and Lilian shrank back into her shell. ‘I’m sorry, Mother. I won’t do it again.’
‘So I should hope.’
‘We should be off soon,’ said Genevieve, peering over the rail. ‘They’re hauling the gangway in. This time tomorrow, we’ll be a long way from London.’
‘That’s what worries me,’ Lilian confessed.
‘It’s what excites me,’ said Myra. She grasped Genevieve’s hand. ‘Oh, I’m so glad that we met you, Miss Masefield. And I’m overjoyed that you’re going all the way to Australia, just like us.’
‘Are you, Mrs Cathcart?’
‘Yes. It will give us chance to get to know you properly.’ Genevieve quailed inwardly. The remark sounded like a threat.
In spite of the cold wind, the majority of passengers ventured out on deck to share the moment of departure and to wave to all the friends and well-wishers still ashore. George Porter Dillman took the opportunity to familiarise himself with the interior of the vessel, walking down empty corridors and inspecting deserted public rooms. First-class passengers, over 350 in number, were berthed amidships on the promenade, hurricane, spar, and main decks. The 170 second-class passengers had cabins on the main deck. Public rooms for both classes were on the hurricane deck and Dillman was impressed with what he saw. Efforts had been made to ensure both comfort and visual interest in the lounges, dining rooms, smoke rooms, and music rooms. He was particularly struck by the ornate woodcarvings.
When he inspected the promenade deck, he made a point of going to Genevieve’s cabin. Knowing she would not be there, he slipped a note under the door, asking her to call on him at her convenience. The distant sound of cheers told him that the Marmora had cast off and he soon felt the vessel tilt and ride. Engine noise built up but it was not overly intrusive. The ship had five double-ended boilers and two single-ended ones. While the passengers waved their farewells, Dillman knew that trimmers and stokers would be working hard to keep the boilers fed with coal. In his opinion, they were the unsung heroes of the shipping companies.
Having gained a rough working knowledge of the layout of the ship, he went back to his first-class cabin on the main deck. It was not long before Genevieve joined him. As he let her in, he ducked under her hat to give her a kiss on the cheek. She was delighted to see him. They had arrived separately and agreed that they would not be seen together in public. Operating independently, they had found, enabled them to cover far more ground than would have been the case if they presented themselves as a couple. It made their occasional meetings in private all the more precious.
‘Well,’ said Dillman, ‘what’s your first impression of the Marmora?’
‘A good one,’ she replied, removing her hat and undoing the buttons on her coat. ‘She’s compact and well appointed. What about you, George?’
‘I was disappointed at first,’ he admitted. ‘Working for Cunard has spoiled me. I expected the Marmora to be bigger somehow. Now that I’ve taken a closer look at her, I withdraw my reservations. She’s well designed and ideal for her purpose. And, of course, having a much smaller number of passengers will make our job so much easier.’
‘Easier in one way, harder in another.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It will be much more difficult to escape. We can’t lose ourselves in a crowd.’
‘Do you feel that you need to, Genevieve?’
‘Oh, yes. I’ve heard the alarm bells already.’
She told him about her meeting with Myra and Lilian Cathcart, people she liked but who somehow had to be kept at arm’s length. Genevieve was not sure which of them would be the more dependent on her. Myra’s geniality would enable to her to make other friends aboard, but Lilian would not mix easily.
‘I suspect that the daughter will be the real headache,’ she decided. ‘And the last thing I want is to have Lilian hanging on to me like a drowning sailor clinging to a piece of wreckage.’
‘A very beautiful piece of wreckage,’ he said gallantly.
‘It could be a drawback, George.’
‘You’ve coped with that problem many times before.’
‘But only on much larger ships with two or three times as many passengers.’ She relaxed and gave an appeasing smile. ‘I’m sorry to trot out a complaint the moment we meet,’ she said. ‘Myra Cathcart may even turn out to be a boon. If my guess is right, she’s something of a merry widow. Myra will attract a lot of people around her and I’ll get to know them without having to make their acquaintances on my own.’
‘That’s all part of our job,’ Dillman reminded her. ‘Merging with the passengers and befriending as many of them as we can. There’s no better way to gather intelligence.’
‘I know, George.’ She glanced around. ‘You have a very nice cabin, I must say.’
‘It’s a long voyage. Comfort is essential. What’s your accommodation like?’
‘Too close to the Cathcarts.’
‘I could always arrange to have you moved.’
‘No, no. They’d be terribly offended. I’ll stay put.’
‘Fair enough.’
‘Have you met the purser yet?’
‘Yes,’ said Dillman, with a slight grimace. ‘Mr Kilhendry is not the most sociable fellow. He told me to my face that he’s not an admirer of the American nation and he resents the both of us because we worked for Cunard. He views us as intruders.’
‘Even though we’re here to solve any crimes that are committed aboard?’
‘Mr Kilhendry believes that he can police the ship on his own.’ She was alarmed. ‘But we need to work hand in glove with him.’
‘Not in this case, Genevieve.’
‘How on earth are we going to manage?’ she wondered.
‘By dealing almost exclusively with his deputy, Martin Grandage. I took to him at once,’ said Dillman. ‘He’s a much more affable character. Mr Grandage wants to see the pair of us later on so that he can give us a few pointers.’
‘Perhaps he can tell us why the purser is being so awkward.’
‘It’s in his nature. He’s very territorial.’
‘I look forward to meeting him,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘We’re sailing all the way to Australia, George. I don’t relish the idea of doing that when the man in the best position to help is actually trying to hinder us.’
‘There’s one way to solve that problem.’
‘Is there?’
‘Yes, win him over.’
‘How do we do that?’
‘By showing him he needs us on this ship.’
‘That’s easier said than done,’ she said. ‘If there are criminals aboard – and I’m sure we’ll have the usual smattering – they’ll be used to operating on a lengthy cruise. We’ve never done that, George. Our villains have always been hit-and-run merchants on a five day Atlantic crossing. We’re up against a different enemy.’
‘That’s what makes it so interesting.’
‘I’d feel happier if we had the purser’s full backing.’
‘Then woo him over, Genevieve. I can’t do it. As soon as I open my mouth, I set off all his prejudices about Americans. I always thought we had an affinity with the Irish, but not in Mr Kilhendry’s case. He thinks we’re too arrogant.’
‘You’re the least arrogant person I’ve ever met.’
‘Try telling that to the purser.’
‘I most certainly will,’ she promised. ‘Do we have any special orders?’
‘Only to keep out of his way.’
‘I was thinking of the royal party.’
‘Oh, Mr Kilhendry has taken personal responsibility for them,’ said Dillman. ‘I doubt if we’ll get anywhere near the Princess Royal and her family. Apparently, they’re travelling to Egypt for health reasons. They want to escape the English winter.’
‘I can sympathise with that.’
‘Did you watch them come aboard?’
‘Yes,’ said Genevieve. ‘It was the one and only time Lilian Cathcart showed any spirit. She worships the royal family. Lilian did everything but wave a Union Jack. According to her, the Duke of Fife is eighteen years older than his wife.’
‘I’m not sure I’d embark on a marriage with that age difference.’
‘You never know. Love can make such things seem meaningless.’
‘Do you speak from experience?’ he teased.
She grinned. ‘Ask me again at the end of the voyage.’
‘You’re on this ship to work, Miss Masefield. Not to go hunting for romance.’
‘It has a nasty habit of hunting me, George.’
They shared a laugh and their eyes locked for a full minute. He realised how much he had missed her during the time they had been apart. Dillman fought off the impulse to reach out for her, and became serious. He picked up the papers that lay on the table between them.
‘We’ll see Mr Grandage together,’ he said, ‘but I think you ought to show your face to the purser as well. I can’t promise that it will be the most pleasant experience of the day for you. However,’ he went on, holding up the papers, ‘Mr Kilhendry needs to know who you are and to give you a copy of these.’
‘What are they?’
‘The passenger lists and a diagram of the ship. They’re very useful. That’s how I knew which cabin you were in,’ he explained. ‘I simply checked the first-class list.’
Genevieve’s ears pricked up. Recalling the shock she had been given earlier, she saw that she now had a way of expelling any lingering fears that a certain person was aboard. She could put her mind at rest.
‘May I see the first-class list, please?’ she asked.
‘Of course,’ he replied, handing it over. ‘Are you looking for someone?’
‘No, George. Nobody in particular.’
It was a lie. Genevieve was searching for reassurance. She ran a finger down the list, confident that she would be able to relieve her mind of its vestigial anxiety. But there was no relief at all. One name suddenly jumped off the page and made her start. She felt as if she had just been punched hard in the stomach.
CHAPTER THREE
As befitted members of the royal family, the Duke and Duchess of Fife, and their children, had been given the cabins that could best lay claim to be considered staterooms. They were large, plush, and superbly furnished. Other passengers had to unpack their own luggage but the royal couple was travelling with a small retinue of servants to take care of any menial tasks. While the ship made its way along the Thames estuary, Fife remained in his cabin with his wife. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man of almost sixty years, with a military bearing. His high, domed forehead and clear-cut features gave him an air of distinction but the full moustache, now peppered with grey, hinted at a more raffish side to his character. Accounted something of a rake in younger days, Fife had been redeemed by marriage and dedicated himself to being a family man and to running his vast estates in Scotland.
‘How do you feel now, my dear?’ he asked solicitously.
‘I’m fine, Alex,’ replied his wife, reclining in a chair. ‘A little tired, perhaps, but there was so much to do before we could set off.’
‘This will be the first Christmas we’ve spent abroad. Do you mind that?’
‘Not in the least. I’m rather looking forward to it. If we stay in England, we always seem to end up eating and drinking far too much. Father has such a remarkable appetite. The last time we spent Christmas Day at Sandringham, he insisted on having twelve courses.’
‘It was something of a challenge,’ Fife agreed with a smile. ‘It will be interesting to see what sort of fare we get in Egypt. Some of their dishes are very exotic.’
‘I’m going there for the warm weather rather than the food.’
‘And for some sightseeing, Louise. Egypt is positively filled with ancient relics.’ He gave a quiet chuckle. ‘Just like your family.’
‘Alex!’
‘I was only joking, my dear.’
It was not a joke that she appreciated because it had such a strong element of truth in it. From the time she was born, Princess Louise Victoria Alexandra Dagmar had been surrounded by people who were substantially older than her. Queen Victoria, her grandmother, who had dominated the family in every way, had survived until her eighties and her spirit lived on. Other people in her circle were also long-lived and Princess Louise wondered if it was because she was so accustomed to being with older people that she had married a man who was almost twenty years her senior. It did not matter. She had never regretted her choice. Fife had been a devoted husband.
‘How long will it take us to get to Port Said?’ she asked. ‘Eleven days, if all goes well.’
She was worried. ‘Is there any reason why it shouldn’t?’
‘No, my dear,’ said Fife with a consoling hand on her shoulder. ‘The Marmora is an excellent vessel and Captain Langbourne is an experienced sailor. The only thing that might slow us down is bad weather.’
‘That’s what I’m afraid of, Alex. I don’t want the children to be seasick.’
‘They’re young, healthy, and full of life. Have no qualms about them.’
‘I was once horribly seasick when I was Maud’s age.’
Though she was the eldest of the King’s three daughters, Princess Louise had always been rather shy and self-effacing. She was a slim, pale woman in dark attire. Marriage had helped her to blossom a little but she was still nervous and hesitant at times. The prospect of spending eleven days afloat was not one that appealed very much to her.
‘I hope that we will be able to maintain our privacy on board,’ she said.
‘We can’t stay in our cabin throughout the whole voyage, Louise. Sea air is bracing. We need to get our fair share of it.’
‘Yes, I know, but I don’t want to spend too much time in the public eye.’
‘Noblesse oblige.’
‘I’ve never enjoyed being stared at by all and sundry.’
‘Then you certainly don’t take after your father,’ he observed with a grin. ‘If the King were here now, he’d probably be chatting in the engine room with the chief engineer or standing on the bridge to give the captain advice on how to sail the ship. He had to wait such a long time to succeed to the throne that he’s determined to enjoy every moment of it, and to meet as many of his subjects as he can.’
‘Father thrives on public occasions. I hate them.’
‘You prefer hearth and home, dear, and I love you for it.’
‘Thank you, Alex.’ She looked around. ‘Where are the girls?’
‘Still glued to the porthole in their cabin, I expect.’
She was about to rise. ‘Do you think that we should check on them?’
‘No,’ he said, easing her gently back into her seat. ‘They can look after themselves. They’re terribly excited about the whole trip. Maud, especially. She can’t wait to see the Pyramids. Try to relax, Louise. When they remember that they have parents, they’ll come looking for us in their own good time.’
She sat back in her chair. ‘You’re probably right.’
‘I’m always right. That’s why I married you.’
Princess Louise smiled for the first time since they had come aboard. She reached out to take his hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. He smiled back at her. A moment later, there was a knock on the door then it burst open. Their two teenage daughters came bounding into the cabin. Fife raised an eyebrow in amusement and turned to his wife.
‘What did I tell you?’ he said.
When she handed the passenger list back to him, it took Dillman only a second to pick out the name that had startled her. He did his best to reassure Genevieve but she was only half listening to what he said. Staring ahead of her, she tried to work out the implications of what she had discovered.
‘You may be worrying unnecessarily,’ he said.
‘I don’t think so, George.’
‘It may not even be him.’
‘It is. I’m certain of it. I saw him earlier.’
‘You thought you saw him, Genevieve. Appearances can be deceptive.’
‘Not in this case,’ she said ruefully. ‘Look at the number of his cabin. It’s on the same deck as my own. He was coming out of it when I caught sight of him.’
‘Maybe it’s another man with the same name and a similar build.’
‘It was Nigel. There’s no question of that now. He’s not only on the same ship as me, his cabin is actually in the same passageway as mine. That frightens me.’
‘Why?’
‘I’m not sure,’ she replied, rubbing her hands together. ‘I just know that it does.’
‘It’s not like you to be frightened by anything.’
‘This is different, George.’
‘Is it?’ he asked, taking her by the shoulder and leading her to a chair. ‘Sit down for a moment,’ he advised. She lowered herself into the chair and he crouched in front of her. ‘That’s better. Now, let’s try to get to the bottom of this, shall we? What is it that’s upset you so much?’
‘Somebody from my past whom I’d rather not meet.’
‘That could cut both ways, Genevieve.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Mr Wilmshurst must have his own share of guilt about what happened.’
‘Don’t you believe it!’ she said with vehemence. ‘Nigel doesn’t know what guilt is. He’s completely amoral. He never accepts that he’s to blame for anything.’
‘Yet, in this case, he certainly was.’
‘Up to a point.’
‘That’s not the way you explained it to me,’ he said. ‘According to you, he did something that you felt was unforgivable and so you broke off your engagement to him. Isn’t that what happened?’
‘Yes, George.’
‘Then he was at fault. You’ve no reason to have a conscience about it.’
‘Yet I still do,’ she confessed. ‘I suppose it was because I wanted the engagement to come to an end. When he provided me with an excuse, I jumped at it.’
‘You have no regrets about that, surely?’
‘None at all. I liked Nigel a lot at first. There was even a point when I believed that I actually loved him. But I was far too dazzled by his social position to look at him objectively. When his father dies, he inherits the title and becomes Lord Wilmshurst. The notion of being a “Lady” is very tempting to someone who comes from my background.’
‘You are a lady, Genevieve,’ he told her. ‘In every way.’
‘A title means so much in English society.’
‘Is that why you were rattled? Because you were reminded of what you missed?’
‘No, George,’ she returned. ‘It’s a source of relief to me now. I’d never have fitted into that world. I can look the part but that’s all that I could have done. Besides, I’m much happier doing what I’m doing now.’
‘Watching out for pickpockets on a P&O ship?’
‘Working alongside someone I can respect.’
‘Thank you.’ He rose to his feet. ‘So what do you think is going to happen?’
‘Sooner or later, I’ll have an embarrassing meeting with Nigel.’
‘Embarrassing for you or for him?’
‘Oh, only for me,’ she said. ‘He’ll probably think it’s hilarious. Nigel has never been embarrassed in his life. You’ll see. He’s a law unto himself.’
‘I’m only concerned about his effect on you, Genevieve. It may hamper your work, and that’s worrying. Let’s face it, there’s no way that you can avoid him unless you transfer to second class. Would you prefer to do that?’ She shook her head. ‘Are you certain about that?’
‘I’m not running away, George,’ she promised. ‘I’m not going to hide in second class simply because I don’t wish to bump into Nigel. No,’ she went on, ‘I’ll just have to take a deep breath and get on with it. But I know one thing. From now on, the Marmora is going to seem even smaller.’
‘Are you afraid he might bother you?’
‘Nigel is doing that already and I haven’t even come face-to-face with him.’
‘What I meant was whether or not you were afraid he might harass you.’
‘I wouldn’t rule that out. Knowing him, I think he might take a delight in it.’
‘Then I can offer you some relief on that score,’ he said, reaching for the passenger list again. ‘You were so shaken to see Nigel Wilmshurst in here that you didn’t notice the name directly beneath his.’
‘Who is it?’
‘Someone called Araminta Wilmshurst. It looks as if he’s married, Genevieve.’
‘Married?’
‘Yes, you’ll be perfectly safe from him now.’
Nigel Wilmshurst brushed a speck of dust from the sleeve of his jacket then admired himself in the mirror. Tall, thin, suave, and self-regarding, he was meticulous about his appearance. His dark hair was brushed neatly back and his moustache carefully trimmed. Watching him from the other side of the cabin, his wife giggled with amusement.
‘You spend more time in front of a mirror than I do,’ she complained.
‘It’s important to look one’s best, Araminta.’ He turned to grin at her. ‘Until the light goes out at night, that is. Then it’s important to do one’s best.’ She giggled again. ‘You are going to have a wonderful time, Mrs Wilmshurst.’
