The Husband List (5 page)

The ride was a blur. The possibility of having to deal with Papa was less bleak than the sure knowledge she’d have to deal with Jack again. If she was going to be idiot enough to kiss him, could she have not at least done it in a private place and with some amount of skill?

Living life first-hand was a messy thing.

Once home, Caroline left her bicycle at the bottom of the steps to have a servant stow it away. Weary, she entered the house.

“Good evening, Miss Caroline,” said O’Brien, who stood not three feet away.

Caroline jumped. “O’Brien, you startled me!”

“My apologies, Miss,” he said.

She gave him a sketchy smile and headed upstairs. If she could make it to her room without crossing the twins’ paths, she’d at least be safe from trouble here.

Caroline held her breath as she tiptoed past their doors and on to her end suite of rooms. She slipped inside. After her door was closed, she leaned against it, unpinned her hat, and breathed a sigh of pure relief.

“You needn’t sound so content with yourself,” her mother said.

Caroline jumped again.

“Hello, Mama,” she said once she’d recovered. “I thought you were on your way to Newport.”

“I was delayed. It appears that you were, as well. From wherever you were.”

“I was on a bicycle ride,” she said, thinking at least in this she could be honest.

“So were your sisters. They arrived home thirty minutes ago. They expected to find you in your room, recovering from the effects of the sun. Imagine their surprise … and mine … when we discovered you were not here.”

“If you were not on a bicycle ride, where were you, Caroline?”

Caroline opted for another partial truth. “I went to the museum.”

“Which one?”

“The Natural History Museum, right by the park.”

Her mother sighed. “That sounds likely. But your sisters managed to stay with the group. Why couldn’t you?”

“Because I find museums more interesting than bicycles. You know how much I love to learn. I wish I didn’t have to sneak around you to do it.”

“I let you take the admission examinations for both Oxford and Yale,” Mama said as though that settled the matter.

“And I passed both. You should have let me go, even if it was just to Vassar. At least then I could have done one thing for myself before I gave up the rest of my life to some duke or viscount.”

“It’s an honor to marry nobility,” her mother replied.

“Let Amelia or Helen have the honor.”

“When their time comes, they will. But this is your year, Caroline, and Bremerton will be the man. I can just feel it! And this
is
for you … for your future and your children’s future.” She paused and then added, “And let’s be clear about one thing. After today, there will be no more contact with other men.”

Had someone other than those boys seen her kiss Jack?

Despite the sickly taste of panic on her tongue, Caroline calmly asked, “What are you talking about?”

“Jack Culhane,” Mama replied. “The twins are good girls. They told me he left soon after you.”

This time Caroline would go with a lie. Why bring Jack into the mess?

“He might have left after me, but he certainly wasn’t with me,” she said.

Her mother scrutinized her, but Caroline held steady.

“If you say so,” Mama finally said. “But tomorrow afternoon, you and the twins will be with me on the Fall River boat to Newport. I won’t risk a repeat of whatever might have happened today.”

“Fine, Mama. I’ll have Annie pack my trunks.”

“It’s already being done.”

So, Newport it was. Caroline could think of worse fates. Among them would be seeing Jack Culhane before she could dim the memory of that kiss.

FOUR

Mama believed in schedules. If the steamer
Plymouth
was to disembark from Pier 28 of the North River at 5:00
P.M.
, all Maxwell females would be ensconced in their parlor rooms no later than 3:30. Caroline would have liked to believe that Mama’s timeliness was out of consideration for their fellow passengers. She knew better, though. Mama did
not
believe in her daughters mixing with people whom she had not approved as socially acceptable. Thus Caroline and the twins had been whisked into solitude.

Only serendipitous timing had stopped Caroline’s mother from using the family’s private yacht, the
Conqueror,
for this Newport trip. Papa was having the ship’s engines vetted to be certain he could vanquish even the Vanderbilts in a transatlantic voyage. Caroline could not have been happier. Public transport on the
Plymouth,
with its non-Mama-approved contingent, gave her hope for some adventure, even if it was simply seeing new faces and listening in on a conversation or two.

Caroline walked softly across the rose-patterned carpet and put her ear to the wall that separated her room from Mama’s. Luckily, the walnut veneer did little to stop sound from traveling.

“I must fall asleep before supper or it will be another miserable voyage for me,” Mama was saying to her maid, Berta.

Mama didn’t get seasick so much as she got sea-worried. Thoughts of storms and sinking tended to work her into a state.

“Shall I have tea brought, ma’am?” Berta asked.

“Yes,” Caroline’s mother replied. “Actually, no. What if it arrives after I sleep and the commotion wakes me? Just sit, Berta, keep company with Pomeroy, and be ready to answer if anyone comes to the door.”

Caroline smiled. That made two less pairs of eyes on her. It was unfortunate that Mama didn’t take well to the water, but as Papa always said, “Seize the day.”

And so Caroline would … or at least the time before dinner. Then Mama would emerge from her stateroom, pale and perspiring, and insist that she join—and guard—Caroline, Amelia, and Helen during dinner at the captain’s table. Though Caroline’s room was comfortable, boasting a double bed dressed in fresh white linens, as well as a sofa and a chaise, she wanted to see the rest of the ship.

It was now 5:30, and the steamer was well underway. Caroline took a quick look at herself in the small mirror above the room’s three fitted drawers. Her dark blue hat with ostrich trim sat straight and true. Her color was a bit high, but if she kept her eyes downcast and worked to be unobtrusive, surely she’d blend in. She fluffed her blue jacket’s fat leg-of-mutton sleeves and readied for adventure.

After opening the door and peeking out, she stepped onto the deck. All was good. No one was in front of Mama’s room, or the twins’, the next one down. She locked her stateroom door and slipped the flat brass key into her petit point purse.

Avoiding Mama’s room, Caroline headed toward the ship’s bow. A handful of her fellow passengers stood at the rail, watching the waves roll as the ship entered the mouth of Long Island Sound. The less brave stood back a conservative distance. Caroline slipped through a gap in the crowd and neared the rail. Above her, the Fall River Line’s blue-and-white flag snapped in the breeze. Her heart felt lighter. For the first time since she’d returned home yesterday, she felt as though she could breathe.

The shore fell away to deeper blue-green water. If Caroline closed her eyes, she could imagine herself a thousand different places: in an Alaskan sound at the height of summer with those puffins Jack had spoken of taking flight around her, or perhaps Ireland, where a blue bay met rolling land so green that its beauty would capture her forever.

But actual life at the rail was growing chilly and damp as the humid air sank into the fabric of Caroline’s dress. She went through the double doors amidships and made her way aft, toward the grand saloon. It seemed, though, that half the ship’s passengers had the same destination in mind.

Instead of jostling in the hall, Caroline approached the main stairway. Its thick Turkish carpet seemed an odd mate to the Corinthian columns topped with wildly fanciful filigreed brass light fixtures that served as the stairs’ newel posts. Mama would be envious at the sight of such busyness.

Caroline entered the gallery saloon, which looked down on the larger grand saloon. Ladies and gentlemen walked about below, watching as much as they were being watched. Some sat in chairs that lined the ornate plaster walls, whispering comments to one another as a woman in a particularly bright—and some would say unsuitable—dress strolled by.

Even Caroline couldn’t stop herself from watching the canary amidst the quieter birds. The woman stopped and settled her hand on the arm of a broad-shouldered man who had his back to Caroline. His head dipped down as he listened to her, no doubt all ears. There was an intimacy between the two that Caroline envied.

She knew it was impolite to gawk, but having spent the years since her debut as the subject of much gawking, she allowed herself the pleasure. The woman was of indeterminate years and quite beautiful. Her lips were the shade of blood rubies, her hair the deep color of chestnuts, and her skin an unblemished ivory. She also seemed unruffled by the stares of others, almost as though she found them amusing.

She definitely sensed Caroline’s rapt attention because she looked up to the gallery. This was no time to become reticent. Caroline nodded to her. The woman smiled slightly and nodded back. Caroline’s hands tightened on the railing. She’d wanted adventure. Even a few words with a woman such as this would qualify. The woman murmured something to her partner. He turned and looked up.

Caroline froze. It was Jack Culhane.

His eyes were shaded by the brim of his hat. She wished for the same protection. Her shock had to be obvious, since her heart was leaping at a hare’s pace. She wanted to know who this woman was to Jack, but at the same time she wanted to pretend she’d never witnessed them.

Caroline rounded the curved railing until she was in a spot where she could neither see him nor be seen. But Jack, too, had moved, and without his companion. He looked up at her. She’d never witnessed a pirate’s cocky smile any more than she’d worn a bright yellow, low-cut gown in the early evening like his lady friend. Still, she’d wager a buccaneer had a grin no bolder than Jack’s.

Caroline was irritated by his ease. She was the polished product of a lifetime of education in etiquette, decorum, and maintaining one’s composure. But those lessons had fled. She wheeled around and nearly tripped over two little girls who’d been walking with their parents behind her.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said but didn’t stop hurrying toward the stairway.

When she reached the stairs, Jack already stood at the bottom. Since there was only one way down for her, he looked quite pleased with his location. Caroline debated going back to the gallery, but the laughing glint of challenge she caught in his eyes stopped her. If she were still a reckless child, she’d bring him facedown on the carpet. Unfortunately, she was grown.

Caroline started down the stairs. She was two from the bottom when she spotted Annie quickly weaving through the other passengers. Her black coat was half-buttoned, and no hat sat atop her head.

“Annie?” Caroline called.

The maid halted. Relief washed over her features.

“There you are, Miss,” she said as she shouldered her way in front of Jack. “Berta sent me to your cabin to dress your hair. Your mother’s ready to dine. We must move quickly!”

Caroline brushed by Jack.

“Saved by the maid,” he said as she passed.

*   *   *

HALF AN hour later, Caroline sat at the captain’s table with her sisters and mother, an elderly couple from Boston, a scowling Philadelphia banker, and Captain Davis. All the room’s white linen–covered tables were filled with diners. The long, narrow space buzzed with conversation, nearly drowning out the violinists who sat in the far corner playing to no one in particular. Waiters in black coats bustled about filling water goblets and whisking away empty plates.

Mama and Captain Davis were discussing the new ship currently being built for the line. Mama was giving advice regarding the décor, suggesting either Baroque or Louis XVI. Based on the mix of ornate woodwork and austere columns in this room, Caroline doubted the line’s owners felt constrained to just one style. And since she didn’t especially care, she let her attention drift.

Jack and the woman in yellow sat on the opposite side of the room at a table with one other couple. She was smiling at something Jack was saying to the gentleman across from him. The table broke into laughter. Caroline sighed. Clearly, their conversation didn’t center on furnishings. Now the woman was speaking, and the couple opposite had seemed to move in closer. Jack looked as dark and handsome as ever, blast him. And if he sensed her watching, he wasn’t letting on.

“Caroline, is that Jack Culhane over there?” Amelia asked.

Caroline lifted her fork as though she’d actually been eating the food on her plate. “Where?”

“Where you’ve been looking for the past five minutes,” Amelia replied, her expression alight with excitement. “Right there, by the lady in the yellow dress.”

Mama, who was sitting to Caroline’s left, broke off her chat with the captain.

“Have you something you wish to add to my conversation with Captain Davis?” she asked Amelia.

“No, Mama. I was asking Caroline if that was Jack Culhane over there, right by—”

Caroline nudged her sister’s ankle with the tip of her shoe. Amelia caught on and let her words drop.

But Mama scoured the room. Caroline could peg the exact moment her mother spotted Jack, and then Jack’s lady friend. Mama’s eyes narrowed and she looked as though she’d tasted something unpleasant.

Mama said nothing aloud. She returned her attention to the captain and apologized for Amelia speaking out of turn. But the damage had been done. Though Jack had never had a warm welcome from Mama, Caroline was sure it was bound to grow chillier, yet.

*   *   *

IT WAS nearly midnight. Jack stood by the bow rail at the fore of the walkway that led to his room. The stars lit the sky almost as brightly as the small electric lights dotting the
Plymouth
’s outer passageway lit the ship’s deck. Most of the passengers had retired to their cabins, but he was restless. Running into Flora Willoughby today hadn’t done it. He’d always liked his father’s ex-flame and had been pleased to see her again. Flora was genuine in a way that most women of his acquaintance were not.