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Gig. Pig.

For whatever reason, Iris started chuckling as she thought about the rhyme. For a moment, anyway. She watched as Nathan’s gaze turned from the coastline to Tessa’s peaceful face. He appeared to be mesmerized.

Another grinding of the brakes beneath their feet slowed the
Titanic
even more. Though they were still a great distance from shore, the huge vessel came to a complete stop.

“What’s happening?” Tessa looked her way, wide-eyed.

“We are anchoring off Roche’s Point. The dock at Queenstown isn’t big enough to accommodate us. Tenders will arrive from the White Star Line jetty, bringing the final passengers onboard. And mail, as well, from what I understand.”

Tessa still seemed alarmed. “I had hoped we could just get on with this journey. Head out to sea.”

Nathan’s expression shifted to one of concern. Leaning against the railing, he gave Iris a pensive look. “There’s something I want to say, and it must be spoken before more passengers board the ship. I mentioned this in passing to Jacquie last night.” His brow creased into a
V
. “But I need to share it with you, as well.”

“Share what?” Iris fussed with the strings of her hat, which the wind had whipped into a little dance around her neckline.

“Many of the passengers are emigrants from eastern European countries. I heard some of the men talking about it last night. Countries like Syria and Croatia.”

“Croatia.” Iris echoed the word. She hadn’t heard of that one.

The concern in his voice intensified. “Most of these folks
probably won’t speak English or French. Most will be staying in third class, from what I’ve heard. I just want to make sure you ladies are properly chaperoned whenever you’re around the men. Not to say that they are suspect because of where they’re from or because of their social class. I don’t mean that at all. I’m simply saying that the crowd is about to grow thicker, and the potential for mischief increases.”

“But…chaperoned? Why?” This seemed a bit ridiculous to Iris’s way of thinking.

“Because these people are total strangers.” His brow furrowed, an indicator that he truly believed the ladies to be in harm’s way.

“As are you.” She planted her fists on her hips and stared him down.

His face paled, and he turned his gaze back to the shoreline as he muttered, “I understand, but my offer still stands. With so many people milling about, one could lose their purse.”

Or their head.
Iris fought the temptation to speak the words aloud. Really, she couldn’t seem to control her tongue these days, though much of what she’d said over the past hour or so shamed her. If only she could get control of her emotions, then she wouldn’t have to eat her words after the fact.

Her gaze turned to the approaching tenders. She read the name I
RELAND
on the first one and A
MERICA
on the second. Both were filled to capacity with passengers and sacks of mail.

Minutes later
Titanic
came alive with activity. Along with a bevy of new passengers, tenders brought several Irish locals with all sorts of merchandise, including the most delicate lace Iris had ever laid eyes on.

As the merchants spread their wares and called out for passengers to buy, buy, buy, she found herself wishing she hadn’t
thumbed her nose at Nathan’s suggestion that he serve as chaperone. Perhaps having a strong male nearby would be an asset, particularly with so many rough-looking strangers about and calling to her at every turn. As folks pushed and prodded, she found herself feeling more anxious by the moment…until she laid eyes on the merchants with Irish lace in hand.

She watched as one merchant—an older woman with long gray hair—strung large pieces of Irish lace over her shoulders and walked the deck, calling out for people to have a look.

“Irish lace,” Iris whispered. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to have just a few inches of the delicate stuff. Seconds later she found herself standing in front of the woman, her gaze falling on a piece of Kenmare, her favorite. Her heart quickened as she took in the lovely pieces. How delicate. How lovely.

“You are fond of lace?” the woman asked. “I will give you a good price.”

“Fond of it?” Her heart swelled with joy. “I adore it, especially the Kenmare lace. Have you ever seen anything so beautiful? I can imagine a nice dress with a bit of this lace on the collar and cuffs.” She fingered a lovely stretch of it. “One day.”

“Not one day,” Tessa said as she stepped up next to Iris. “
This
day. You will have it today.” She reached for her reticule and opened it to pull out some coins. Minutes later she pressed a full yard of the Kenmare into Iris’s hands.

“A–are you sure, Tes—Miss Jacquie?” Iris found herself fumbling for words.

“Very sure. It’s the least I can do.” Tessa winked and reached over to give her a hug, at which point she whispered, “You’re worth it, Iris. Worth this and much more.”

“Worth it.”

Why the words pricked her heart, she could not say. Still, as Iris fixed her gaze on the Kenmare lace, she felt more valuable than she had in years.

Jacquie paced the lobby of the Willingham and waited, as she had for hours, for Peter to arrive. If he didn’t show up by two o’clock, she would go into the dining room alone and have lunch. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about Mother finding her here. Mother and Cousin Minerva were long gone to Paris by now.

She continued to pace the lobby, feeling the eyes of the bellman on her. When he approached to ask if he could help her in any way, she simply shook her head and kept walking. Surely something had happened to delay Peter’s arrival. Still, he should have sent a note to the clerk. Jacquie did her best to relax but found it difficult.

By 1:55, her heart had gravitated to her throat. By two o’clock, she knew she must face facts.

He’s not coming. And I’ve made a complete fool of myself.

Chapter Nineteen

Friday Afternoon, April 12, 1912

Aboard the
Titanic,
on the Boat Deck

On Friday afternoon Tessa dressed in her prettiest pink gown to meet with Nathan’s mother in the Café Parisien. She couldn’t imagine what the woman might want to discuss. Perhaps she had discovered the truth—every awful bit of it.

The idea left Tessa in a dither. Would they bounce her off the ship if they discovered her secret? She did have a ticket, albeit in someone else’s name. Would she have to betray Jacquie, should immigration officials figure out she wasn’t who she pretended to be?

At ten minutes till two, Tessa gave herself a quick glance in the looking-glass and then ushered up a prayer—the first in a long while—for God’s protection. She had no right to do so; she knew that. But still, one couldn’t help but struggle with nerves on a day such as today.

She found Mrs. Patterson sipping a cup of tea at a table in the back of the café.

“Jacquie, my dear, you’ve come.” The older woman gestured for her to sit, and she did. “Are you enjoying your journey?”

“I am. I’m getting a lot of rest, which is nice.” Even as Tessa spoke the words, she thought about how leisurely this voyage had been in comparison to her days on the farm. At home, she scarcely had time
to sit for a moment without Pa taking it out on her. Here, she could lounge about for hours on end, in seemingly endless days.

Unless it all came crashing down on her now. And from the look in Mrs. Patterson’s eyes, something was about to come crashing down.

“Well, you look lovely, my dear, but I can tell something is troubling you.”

“You can?”

“Yes, and that’s why I’ve brought you here.” Mrs. Patterson paused, and Tessa’s heart now raced like Countess headed out of the farrowing crates.

The waiter, a handsome fellow with dark hair and a thick Italian accent, placed a tray of raspberry tarts on the table in front of them. Nathan’s mother gazed at the sugary delicacies with longing, finally settling on the smallest one on the tray. She picked it up and took a nibble.

Still, Tessa could read the seriousness in the woman’s narrowed eyes. Sooner or later she would get to the point of this meeting. When she did, would the ruse come to an end? Would Tessa have to bare her soul…and her sin?

“Jacquie, I simply must ask you something.” The woman twisted her napkin around in her palms and then folded it and set it on the table.

“All right.”

Mrs. Patterson poured Tessa a cup of tea and then glanced up at her. “Sweet girl, I know it’s really none of my business, and I do hope you don’t think I’m an old busybody, but I must know— why do you allow your lady’s maid to speak to you in such a manner? It’s no wonder you’re so beaten down. She is taxing you, my dear.”

Tessa fought to keep her composure as she pondered the older woman’s words. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Indeed? I walked up on your conversation yesterday and was startled by the way she addressed you. No,
startled
is too soft a word. I found her tone and her words to be completely out of line for one in her station.”

Mrs. Patterson gestured to the cup of tea, and Tessa reached for it, though her hand shook so violently that she nearly spilled it. She shifted her gaze to her lap and tried to think of something brilliant to say. Nothing came to mind, except “Oh, I see.” So
that’s
what this was about.

“If I had a girl such as that in my employ, she would be gone faster than this ship sailed out of Queenstown.” Mrs. Patterson stirred a cube of sugar into her tea. “And I would certainly never think to allow her to travel with me in so fine a room as the one you’re staying in. I would put her down in steerage to fend for herself. That would shake her up a bit, I daresay.”

Tessa paused for a moment to think through a believable response. “Mrs. Patterson, I appreciate your concern. I really do. And I see your point, of course. Iris is…well, she’s Iris. No doubt about it. But she has been in service with our family since I was in finishing school. Her mother started out as my mother’s lady’s maid.”

Tessa swallowed hard as the lie was spoken. Though, it wasn’t a total untruth, was it? Iris and Jacqueline had grown up together.

Offering a weak smile, she finally managed a shrug. “Perhaps we are too familiar?”

“I would say.” Mrs. Patterson reached for her fan. As she spread it wide, the delicate lace caught the ripples of sunlight streaming through the café window. She waved it back and forth. “
Familiar
is exactly the word. Well, you must undo the familiarity at once.”

“Undo it?”

“Certainly.” Nathan’s mother shook her fan in Tessa’s direction. “Put her in her place at once, before this goes one step further. Don’t allow her to speak to you as if her words carry weight. She’s a lady’s maid, for pity’s sake. Her behavior was unacceptable.”

“I see.”

“I would encourage you to dispense with any informalities you’ve grown accustomed to at home. This is, after all, the
Titanic
. Social etiquette rules still apply. And if you want to hold your head up in the presence of people like the Astors and Edith Russell, you must adapt with every opportunity presented to you.”

“I see.”

Mrs. Patterson leaned over and gave her a gentle pat on the arm. “I do hope you will forgive me if I’ve overstepped my bounds, Jacquie. I do feel, in your mother’s absence, of course, that I should offer such advice. Someone has to look out for you.”

“I’m sure Mother would be very pleased to know that I am in such good hands.” Tessa bit her lip to keep from saying more. If Mrs. Patterson had any idea how things were at home, she would realize that no one cared one whit about Tessa’s well-being—not Mum, and certainly not Pa. And if Mum could see her daughter now, sitting like a peacock in a white wicker chair in the Café Parisien, she would probably hand her a broom and tell her to get busy cleaning the place.

Only Peter cared, and he was back in London now, carving bushes into animals and trying to figure out what to do with the real Jacquie Abingdon.

The real Jacquie Abingdon.

For whatever reason, the words caused a painful sigh to rise up inside of Tessa. Thank goodness Mrs. Patterson was none the
wiser. No, she was far too busy going on about Iris to notice a thing. From there, Nathan’s mother lit into a conversation about the Astors and then into a lengthy dissertation about Ida Strauss. Tessa couldn’t make much sense out of any of it.

When the conversation shifted to the various authors onboard the ship, Tessa found herself wanting to doze off. Oh, if only she could pretend to be interested. But how—or why—would anyone care about books and such? It made no sense to her. And what did it matter if these writers penned mysteries or newspaper columns?

Finally Mrs. Patterson stopped talking and gave her a tender glance. “Jacquie, I can tell that you are weary. You look as if you might fall asleep at a moment’s notice.”

“I must confess, I am exhausted. Probably something to do with the lull of the ship.” She bit back a yawn and forced a smile.

“Or perhaps because you laid awake all night fretting over the ugly things your lady’s maid said to you yesterday.” The woman leaned forward and pursed her lips. “I’m right, aren’t I?”