that I see you two beautiful ladies here, my question has answered itself.”
Juliana and Sophie exchanged an agonized glance. There were times when both girls were willing to be polite and humor Major Muttonchop. But this was not one of those times.
They ran off after Alfie.
“My word, where are you going?” the major called in dismay.
“Down there!” Sophie tossed over her shoulder.
Amazed, Major Mountjoy peered over the rail at the revelry in the well deck. “But — but — that’s
steerage
class!”
The girls entered the superstructure just as Alfie disappeared down the steps. They followed at a heart-pounding pace, exiting where the music seemed the loudest. They ran out onto the well deck to be stopped by a solid wall of bodies.
“Excuse me,” Juliana said formally.
No one heard her, not even Sophie, who was right beside her. Sophie grabbed her friend by the elbow and plowed her way through the crowd.
Never before had the daughter of the Earl of Glamford been subjected to such an experience — to be squeezed through a mass of people like frosting out the narrow opening of a cake decorator bag. It was Sophie who seemed to know exactly what to do in such painfully close quarters, probably from experience at her mother’s suffrage rallies. She moved with confidence, while it was all Juliana could do to keep from fainting.
She could feel eyes upon them, some curious, some hostile. Their fine silks and velvets gave them away as anything but third class.
When they finally pushed to the center of the throng, an appalling sight greeted them. A huge strapping Irish boy had Alfie in a headlock, and several others stood by, fists balled, poses menacing.
“He’s not arresting me!” Paddy was shouting over the din. “It’s all right! He’s my friend!” He saw the girls standing in front of him. “What are you two doing here?”
All Juliana’s uneasiness was turned instantly to anger by that question.
“What are
we
doing here? What are
you
doing here? We’ve all risked our necks to protect you! And how do you repay us? You just about write your name on a banner and fly it across the smokestacks! Are you actually insane, or merely stupid?”
Curran Rankin was highly amused. “Paddy, I never knew your mother was a rich English lady. How come you turned out so poor and ugly?”
Paddy faced the two girls. “I’m safe here. Look around you. I’ve got an army! They were ready to throw Alfie in the drink just for wearing a White Star uniform!”
“And how long will your army last if the officers come with pistols?” Sophie challenged.
“I’ll hide,” Paddy promised. “Later. But for now I just want to have a little fun.”
At those words, the fiddler started up again. Paddy grabbed each of the girls by the hand. “Come on, now. When are two fancy ladies going to have the chance to dance with a desperate character who’s two steps ahead of the coppers?”
Before they knew it, Paddy was teaching them the Irish jig. Sophie had natural rhythm, and took to it immediately. But Juliana felt her years of dance lessons holding her back. The formal steps she’d beentaught since she’d first learned to walk were not serving her here.
Paddy read her mind. “There’s no wrong way to do it!” he shouted over the commotion. “Just let go!”
Juliana wondered if that was even possible for the daughter of the seventeenth Earl of Glamford.
CHAPTER TEN
RMS
TITANIC
S ATURDAY, A PRIL 13, 1912, 10:10 P.M.
Too much gaming.
According to Elizabeth, Countess of Glamford, that was her husband’s biggest weakness.
The earl knew this to be untrue. The problem was not too much gaming. It was too much losing.
Weaving slightly, he stepped out of the first-class lounge and made his way to the boat deck for some air. If he could clear his head, perhaps he could go back for a few more hands. Maybe his luck was about to change….
Belay that. Mountjoy was coming toward him, probably armed with a few million
Juliana and Sophie exchanged an agonized glance. There were times when both girls were willing to be polite and humor Major Muttonchop. But this was not one of those times.
They ran off after Alfie.
“My word, where are you going?” the major called in dismay.
“Down there!” Sophie tossed over her shoulder.
Amazed, Major Mountjoy peered over the rail at the revelry in the well deck. “But — but — that’s
steerage
class!”
The girls entered the superstructure just as Alfie disappeared down the steps. They followed at a heart-pounding pace, exiting where the music seemed the loudest. They ran out onto the well deck to be stopped by a solid wall of bodies.
“Excuse me,” Juliana said formally.
No one heard her, not even Sophie, who was right beside her. Sophie grabbed her friend by the elbow and plowed her way through the crowd.
Never before had the daughter of the Earl of Glamford been subjected to such an experience — to be squeezed through a mass of people like frosting out the narrow opening of a cake decorator bag. It was Sophie who seemed to know exactly what to do in such painfully close quarters, probably from experience at her mother’s suffrage rallies. She moved with confidence, while it was all Juliana could do to keep from fainting.
She could feel eyes upon them, some curious, some hostile. Their fine silks and velvets gave them away as anything but third class.
When they finally pushed to the center of the throng, an appalling sight greeted them. A huge strapping Irish boy had Alfie in a headlock, and several others stood by, fists balled, poses menacing.
“He’s not arresting me!” Paddy was shouting over the din. “It’s all right! He’s my friend!” He saw the girls standing in front of him. “What are you two doing here?”
All Juliana’s uneasiness was turned instantly to anger by that question.
“What are
we
doing here? What are
you
doing here? We’ve all risked our necks to protect you! And how do you repay us? You just about write your name on a banner and fly it across the smokestacks! Are you actually insane, or merely stupid?”
Curran Rankin was highly amused. “Paddy, I never knew your mother was a rich English lady. How come you turned out so poor and ugly?”
Paddy faced the two girls. “I’m safe here. Look around you. I’ve got an army! They were ready to throw Alfie in the drink just for wearing a White Star uniform!”
“And how long will your army last if the officers come with pistols?” Sophie challenged.
“I’ll hide,” Paddy promised. “Later. But for now I just want to have a little fun.”
At those words, the fiddler started up again. Paddy grabbed each of the girls by the hand. “Come on, now. When are two fancy ladies going to have the chance to dance with a desperate character who’s two steps ahead of the coppers?”
Before they knew it, Paddy was teaching them the Irish jig. Sophie had natural rhythm, and took to it immediately. But Juliana felt her years of dance lessons holding her back. The formal steps she’d beentaught since she’d first learned to walk were not serving her here.
Paddy read her mind. “There’s no wrong way to do it!” he shouted over the commotion. “Just let go!”
Juliana wondered if that was even possible for the daughter of the seventeenth Earl of Glamford.
CHAPTER TEN
RMS
TITANIC
S ATURDAY, A PRIL 13, 1912, 10:10 P.M.
Too much gaming.
According to Elizabeth, Countess of Glamford, that was her husband’s biggest weakness.
The earl knew this to be untrue. The problem was not too much gaming. It was too much losing.
Weaving slightly, he stepped out of the first-class lounge and made his way to the boat deck for some air. If he could clear his head, perhaps he could go back for a few more hands. Maybe his luck was about to change….
Belay that. Mountjoy was coming toward him, probably armed with a few million
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