LITMIR.BIZ

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a married woman. But why in the name of Brigit would her husband allow her to be traveling alone?

      He settled on diplomacy to find out. “I am honored to meet you, Missus Leigh. I do not mean to be rude, but how is it your husband would entrust someone so lovely to be finding carriages and ship stateroom tickets by herself? If I were he, I would not let you from my sight.”

      Just a little flirty. Formal, complimentary.

      Laughing lightly, the woman smiled again. “You are not being rude at all, sir. I am a widow.”

      Life was looking up for Lieutenant Colonel Myles Keogh. He was a romantic fool at heart, always flirting, always escorting the fairer sex, but as most soldiers ultimately find out, romantics may make good lovers but do not make good husbands. He had many female friends, but they remained friends, never wives. He’d never married and never expected he would. But the boring ship journey to Cherbourg on the French coast and then on to Dublin would take between ten days to two weeks, depending on the weather and the nautical miles achieved each day, so the time might go by more quickly if he could perhaps spend time with this lovely creature.

      He could see through the carriage window the docks were fast approaching, so he pulled out his wallet and produced a carte de visite with his name written on the back.

      “My dear Missus Leigh, I would be charmed if you would agree to allow me to escort you to supper on board this evening.”

      His offer was readily accepted, and the next order of business was to transfer their trunks to one of the dock workers as they went into the ticket office. Round trip fare in a first-class apartment was $150; $100 for one way. Both were in an apartment, and both paid their $150 in cash. Keogh instructed the waiting dock men to deliver the young lady’s things to Apartment A-14 and his own trunk to Apartment A-20. Unlike some other ocean liners, single passengers in first class were not required to separate into a men’s section and a women’s section. At the end of the gangplank, Keogh helped Missus Leigh into the ship’s lobby and reception area and suggested he meet her in the foyer to the informal restaurant at 7:30 p.m. He gave her a small salute and, setting off to find his own cabin, was still thinking about her strange violet eyes.

      *****

      Cresta, who had never sailed on a ship like this, approved of her apartment with its sizeable bedroom and adjoining dressing room. The bed, the equivalent of a modern “double,” was made up with gleaming white sheets and a soft duvet in shades of pale green. Green carpeting on the floor, green curtains at the little porthole windows, and green upholstery on the small sofa and chair in the sitting area. It was a lot of green, but fortunately, the rug did have some pattern to it.

      In the dressing room was a wardrobe with double doors, several hooks on the wall, and a little sofa. The attached lavatory consisted of a toilet, bath, sink, and clean towels. Apparently in case of an emergency, there was also a covered chamber pot. Cresta looked at her watch again. It was 5:00 p.m., and she would have time for a nice soak in a hot tub before dinner.

      What to wear? Well, if she was any judge of men, she could wear a potato sack and Mr. Myles Keogh would not object. Sorry, Lieutenant Colonel Keogh. Her hair and violet eyes were striking, so she would wear something to make both features stand out even more.

      Before drawing her bath, she carefully withdrew a large black notebook and her retrieving device from her handbag and tucked them both into one of her trunks, making sure the trunk was securely locked.

      She then prepared a bath, washed her hair with fragrant French shampoo and her body with lilac-scented soap she bought at Macy’s. When she had toweled most of the moisture from her hair, she let it trail down her back to dry. The curls looked like rivulets in a stream, but in this day and age, it would not do to appear in public with untethered locks. Not if one were in first or second class. Even women in third class would be wearing braids or straw bonnets.

      Back in the wardrobe room, Cresta chose to wear a simple gown. This was embarkation night, not a Captain’s ball, so something plain would be quite sufficient. First, chemise, bloomers, stockings, and silk low-heeled shoes. She had spent hour upon hour with her seamstress and stylist in order to have her wardrobe “just so,” but there was one thing on which they disagreed. Gentlewomen of the time wore a tortuous device called a corset. This Stone Age garment was usually made of cloth stiffened with whalebone or wire and had laces running down the front. The woman donned the horrid thing and then pulled the lacings as tight as she could to compress the waist as much as possible before tying the lacings off. Not only did the waist look smaller, but the upper part of the corset also thrust the breasts upward so they would peek out of a frock or gown. In the first place, Cresta argued, it was not natural for women’s waists to be seventeen inches in diameter. Secondly, the wretched item was damned uncomfortable. Finally, she did not think it would be appropriate in this day to be displaying her breasts when she was a widow. She was not in mourning, so was not doomed to be wearing only black. She won her argument, and several of her dresses were simple enough and cleverly designed so she would not have to wear the corset and, in particular, the bustle.

      Pawing through her trunks, Cresta finally pulled out a frock in lavender. It was slightly off the shoulders on top, gathered at the waist with a large ribbon bow, and then fell gently to the floor. The lavender design was accented with tiny blue and pink tea roses and would not only make her eyes stand out; it would make her red hair gleam.

      The dress was draped over the sitting room chair before she brought her makeup case over to the small dressing table. Choosing a lilac eyeliner with a slightly darker shade of shadow, she added a light application of mascara, a touch of pink rouge, and lip gloss in a light rose color. The overall effect was to add a subtle glow while making it look like she had no makeup on at all. When finished, the case was locked and slid into a drawer. Red hair she lightly braided and then pinned atop her head, a few wisps of curl falling on each side to frame her face. The coif was finished off with the attachment of a lavender feather that brushed the left side of her cheek.

      After donning the dress, the final touch would be long white gloves. She deliberately did not wear a shawl or cloak. Satisfied with her image, she opened the door to the corridor and went to find the informal first-class dining room.

      Chapter 2

      On the SS City of Paris, Atlantic Ocean

      The SS City of Paris was commissioned in 1865 and could carry 1,515 passengers and crew. The normal distribution of guests was approximately 200 in first, 400 in second, and 550 in third. The rest were the captain, officers, and crew. Third-class cabins were extremely Spartan, containing four bunks per cabin, a total of four shared washrooms, and eight shared lavatories. There were two dining rooms served by the same kitchen, and fare was unpretentious but filling, passengers sharing long dormitory tables with sturdy benches.

      Second class featured cabins with two single beds, a washbasin, a small writing desk with a chair, and hooks for clothing. There were six communal washrooms and eight shared lavatories as well as two dining rooms offering a few tables for couples as well as dormitory-style tables.

      First class had comfortable cabins with double beds, dressing/trunk room, a washbasin, a small divan and chair, a dressing table, and a writing desk. The ship sported two first-class restaurants, the formal dining room and the informal “supper” room. The difference was the formal dining room consisted of round tables seating anywhere from six to twelve guests, an orchestra played during evening hours, there would be dancing, and attire was formal. The captain of the ship would host at least two dinners, filling his table with dignitaries, ambassadors, or whoever else was on board and viewed as having some importance or money.

      The informal dining room was exactly that. Formal attire was not required, there was no orchestra, and obviously, the ambience of the room was much more intimate than that of the formal dining saloon. The lights weren’t as bright, and large potted plants placed here and there provided privacy conducive to flirtations and assignations. Both ladies and gentlemen could laugh and share bottles of wine without seeming unmannerly or indelicate.

      Also in first class were about a dozen “apartments,” which were larger than the cabins

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