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So far we have been rather dull, and evening entertainment has been restricted to listening to one of the fine young ladies play piano, while the rest of us chat politely behind our hands. I live in hope of a dance soon, though. The captain assured me that they usually manage to have at least three balls before we arrive in Bombay.
I hope you are having great fun in London, and that everything regarding, shall I say, a certain young man is progressing to your satisfaction.
I shall close now, as today we stop at Marseilles, and I shall have the adventure of stepping onto dry land for the first time in almost a week!
With all best wishes,
Maisie
***
Maisie felt a little pang of compunction as she descended the walkway onto the quay at Marseilles. She could imagine Mrs Smythe watching them through the porthole of her cabin, and wondering whether one of the people currently disembarking was carrying her jewellery in a pocket or a bag, ready to sell at a table in a café, or in a little back-street shop.
At breakfast they had discussed their plans. ‘The colonel and I plan to visit the cathedral,’ said Mrs Fortescue. ‘We have never been, in all the times we have landed at Marseilles, and it is high time we did.’ The colonel said nothing, and Maisie suspected that the plan had been announced to him, rather than agreed by him.
‘That is an excellent idea,’ said Mrs Jennings. ‘May Sophia and I join you?’
‘Of course you may!’ exclaimed Mrs Fortescue. ‘The more the merrier.’ She looked around the table. ‘Would anyone else care to join us?’
‘Mr Randall, how about you?’ said Mrs Jennings. ‘I’m sure that you would appreciate such architecture. And Mr Merritt too, of course,’ she added hastily, ‘if he wishes to come.’
‘I should like it of all things,’ said Mr Randall. ‘Merritt, are you in?’
‘Why not,’ said Mr Merritt. ‘It is something to do, after all.’
‘Mr Smythe? Mrs Smythe?’ Mrs Fortescue enquired with a raised eyebrow.
‘Not on this occasion, I am afraid,’ said Mr Smythe. ‘I have business with the consulate. Amelia may go, if she wishes.’
The table looked at Mrs Smythe, who turned a faint shade of pink. ‘Oh, I had thought I might remain on board,’ she said, sounding unlike her usual decisive self. ‘I don’t feel quite the thing.’
‘Miss Jeroboam, Miss Frobisher?’ Mrs Fortescue enquired with a gimlet eye.
‘I am afraid I shall also decline your kind invitation,’ said Miss Jeroboam. ‘I have seen the cathedral many times before, and I must admit I have a great and shameful desire to go to the Vieux Port, get a table at my favourite café, and people-watch with a croissant and a café au lait.’
‘That sounds delightful,’ said Maisie. ‘Might I join you, Miss Jeroboam?’ The thought of a pleasant hour or two in a café, watching the world go by, was infinitely preferable to being marched round the cathedral and lectured in French, or even English, by an officious tour guide or Mrs Fortescue.
‘By all means, Miss Frobisher,’ replied Miss Jeroboam. She turned to her left. ‘Mr Hamilton, would you care to join us? Or will you form one of the cathedral party?’
Mr Hamilton smiled pleasantly. ‘I must decline both, for I have business to settle in the town. Perhaps I shall be able to join you at the Vieux Port later.’
‘We shall look forward to it,’ said Miss Jeroboam.
And now I am actually stepping onto land again, thought Maisie. Miss Jeroboam was by her side, and Maisie tried not to giggle at the strange sensation as she stood on the good solid stone of the quay, which didn’t move as much as an inch. She wanted to reach out for something to steady herself.
‘It’s peculiar, isn’t it?’ said Miss Jeroboam. ‘It always takes me a few minutes to get used to being on land.’
Most of the passengers Maisie knew had already disembarked. She turned to see if Mrs Smythe might have changed her mind, but was rewarded only with the sight of Mr Smythe striding down the gangway, a small attaché case in his hand. But wait — wasn’t that Mr Hamilton leaning on the ship’s rail? He seemed in no hurry to disembark. Rather, he appeared to be observing the other passengers, shading his eyes against the sun.
Oh well, thought Maisie, it isn’t my fault if he misses the chance to get off the ship for a few hours. And she set her face resolutely towards Marseilles.
It was gloriously sunny, and the port was bathed in a gentle light which made the warm stone of the buildings almost golden. They were jumbled together in the foreground, and the port bustled with life, but Notre Dame de la Garde rose still and majestic above them like a sentinel. Maisie took a deep breath of the air and sighed with pleasure.
‘It is lovely, isn’t it?’ said Miss Jeroboam. ‘Let me find a cab, and we shall be in the Vieux Port in no time.’ She raised her hand and waved at an approaching carriage, which stopped for her.
The streets are no more bumpy than those in London, thought Maisie as they rattled along, and presently they were in the Vieux Port, a pleasant mishmash of cafés and restaurants and shops. ‘I have some letters to deal with,’ said Miss Jeroboam, patting her capacious bag, ‘and then we shall find refreshments.’ A post office was nearby, and Maisie was rather sorry that she had no letters to drop into the box while Miss Jeroboam was at the counter transacting her business. Instead she turned to a rack of pretty postcards, and selected a few which she thought her friends at home would appreciate.
‘I am finished,’ said Miss Jeroboam, arriving back at her side. ‘If you buy stamps to go with those, you could perhaps write them at the café and post them before we return to the ship.’
‘What an excellent idea!’ said Maisie. ‘Although I would not know which stamps to get.’
‘Oh, I can advise you,’ said Miss Jeroboam. ‘I sometimes think that when my exploring days are over I may retire to a little post office in the country, since I have acquired so much expertise in matters of the postal service.’
Stamps and postcards duly bought, they strolled along the quaint little street towards a café with tables and chairs set out on the pavement. Café du Boulevard, read Maisie.
‘They may have delusions of grandeur,’ said Miss Jeroboam, ‘but they serve the best croissant in Marseilles. Believe me, I have tried most of them.’
‘Then I shall take your word for it.’ They sat down at a table sheltered by a striped awning, which enabled them to observe both the pedestrians sauntering past, and the occupants of the nearby tables.
Miss Jeroboam was a delightful companion. Maisie had feared that she might try to impress her with tales of wrestling crocodiles and flattening snakes with a canoe paddle, but instead they chatted about life on board ship, Maisie’s impressions of her first cruise, and how different it was from normal London society.
‘And how did you become an explorer, Miss Jeroboam?’ Maisie asked, as their croissants and café au lait arrived.
‘Oh, that is a long story,’ said Miss Jeroboam. ‘The short version is that I grew up in a family of boys, and I soon learnt that the best way to get on with them was to be good at the things they enjoyed. My parents were independent-minded and thought nothing of letting us go off on a boat for days, or climb up a mountain, or whatever we fancied, really. That is how I got a taste for adventure. Strangely, my brothers are all settled in respectable professions, and I am the odd one out. But I wouldn’t change my life with a London society belle for the world.’ She bit into her croissant with relish. ‘Now Miss Frobisher, is this croissant not the best you have tasted?’
Maisie sipped her café au lait and then bit into her own croissant, which was flaky and light, with a perfect crackle of almond on the top. ‘In this setting, with this sunshine, I do believe you are right.’
Another croissant, another café au lait, and everything was most pleasant until the time came to pay the bill. Miss Jeroboam fished in her bag. ‘My purse!’ she exclaimed. A puzzled look crossed her face, followed by relief. ‘I must have left it i
n the post office. I shall go back and see.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Maisie. ‘Would you like me to pay?’
‘Oh no, I am sure it is at the post office,’ Miss Jeroboam assured her. ‘But will you be all right on your own?’
‘Of course I shall!’ said Maisie.
‘I shall only be a few minutes,’ said Miss Jeroboam. ‘Don’t worry, I never carry much money when I leave the ship. To be frank with you, most of my wealth is bound up in fish-hooks and matches, to trade once I am in India.’ And with that intriguing statement, she hurried towards the post office.
Maisie watched her go, and then fell to observing the next table, where a Frenchwoman sat with her young daughter. The little girl had a big cup of hot chocolate with a roll broken up in it, and was chasing the pieces of bread round the bowl with a large spoon in a most comical manner. Maisie wanted to laugh, but feared that might hurt the little girl’s feelings, so smiled broadly at her instead. The girl saw her, and immediately hid behind her big bowl, then peeped out at her. That made Maisie laugh in earnest.
‘Madeleine!’ exclaimed her mother. ‘Mechante fille! Je suis désolée, madame.’ Observing Maisie’s outfit, she added, ‘I am so sorry, madame.’
‘Oh no, it’s quite all right,’ said Maisie. The little girl came out from behind her bowl and smiled at Maisie, displaying a perfect row of tiny white teeth. Then she resumed chasing her bread around her chocolate again, before giving up, lifting the bowl to her lips very carefully, and drinking, leaving a little stripe of brown on her upper lip. Her mother wiped her with a napkin, and sighed.
Maisie could have watched them all day, but after a few minutes Miss Jeroboam reappeared. ‘I have it!’ she said, waving a leather purse of curious design. ‘Luckily the postmistress knows me a little and she kept it back. She said that if I had not returned for it in an hour, she would have sent someone here to enquire.’
Maisie marvelled at how calm Miss Jeroboam seemed, and how easily the whole matter had been resolved. What must it be like to be so worldly-wise? I thought I knew all there was to know about the world, and if that had happened to me, I don’t know what I should have done.
‘We ought to be getting back to the ship,’ said Miss Jeroboam. ‘Sometimes it is difficult to get a cab from here, and I do not wish to be stranded in Marseilles, lovely as it is.’
Maisie assented and Miss Jeroboam beckoned the waiter, who came hurrying over. ‘L’addition, s’il vous plaît,’ she said.
‘Très bien, madame,’ he replied.
Maisie reached for her purse but Miss Jeroboam held up a hand. ‘No, I insist,’ she said. ‘Especially after I left you all alone.’ She rummaged in her purse and pulled out some coins.
The waiter returned with the bill, and glancing at it, Miss Jeroboam placed a few coins on the little dish. He beamed, said ‘Merci, madame,’ and stood respectfully while Maisie rose.
She waved goodbye to her new little friend, who waved back, said ‘Au revoir’, and felt in her own purse for a coin. ‘For your little girl,’ she said, passing it to the mother.
‘Oh Madame, thank you!’ And when the mother smiled Maisie could see the little girl’s face in hers.
Miss Jeroboam was right, and they had to wait twenty minutes before a taxi was free to take them back to the ship. ‘What a lovely afternoon,’ said Maisie, sinking into the seat. ‘I feel quite tired, even though I have done nothing but laze about and eat.’
‘That is the best kind of relaxation,’ said Miss Jeroboam. ‘I am saving my strength for the expedition.’
It seemed no time before they were back at the quay, and the imposing form of SS Britannia rose before them. The gangway was down, and as Maisie paid the cab driver Miss Jeroboam exclaimed, ‘How odd!’
‘What is?’ asked Maisie.
‘There is Mr Hamilton, at the top of the gangway. Didn’t he say he might meet us at the Vieux Port?’
‘So he did,’ said Maisie. ‘Maybe his business didn’t take so long after all.’
‘In which case he could have met us,’ said Miss Jeroboam. She laughed. ‘Or perhaps his plea of business was an excuse to avoid us!’
‘Perhaps it was,’ said Maisie carelessly. Inside, though, her mind was whirring. They climbed the gangway, and while Mr Hamilton greeted them cordially, and asked if they had had a pleasant day, there was something in his face that she didn’t like.
Something furtive, she said to herself, on the way back to her cabin. It was only then, as she took off her hat and unpacked her bag, that she realised the postcards she had meant to write and send in Marseilles had been completely forgotten in the pleasure of her afternoon.
Chapter 5
Lady Frobisher to Maisie Frobisher, Chelsea
My darling Maisie,
I do hope you are not suffering too much on your voyage. This letter should reach you at Marseilles, and I pray that you will still be alive to read it. The Bay of Biscay is notoriously bad and I worry that you will be quite done up by it. Do not forget, Maisie, that you can come home at any time.
I hope the weather is not too bad, and that the food is palatable — also that you have pleasant company on board ship. Do not forget always to wear wool next to your skin, even in the tropics. Major Fairbank swears by it, and he ought to know.
Things here are much the same as ever. Your father’s dyspepsia continues, and of course my nerves are shattered, not just by the trials and tribulations of everyday life, but also by worrying about my darling girl. I remember you in my prayers every night, and I hope you are wearing the St Christopher pendant which I gave you before setting off, in order to guard against ill fortune.
I saw Mrs Swift the other day at dinner, and she sends her love. She did say that your voyage was exactly the sort of silly thing she would expect her Constance to do, but I think she was merely in an ill temper.
With all my love,
Mama
Constance Lamont to Maisie Frobisher, Marylebone
Dear Maisie,
How are you enjoying your adventure? I hope that so far you have had a smooth journey and calm waters both in terms of the weather and your fellow-passengers.
My nephew Joseph is amazed that you are going off around the world. He said he would like to do just the same. I told him that he might have to wait a while, and he has agreed to wait until he is five, which is reassuring. Albert sends his love and his admiration too. Bee has not expressed an opinion as yet.
Things are as lively as usual here — Katherine and I are investigating an interesting case at present, involving a lady who disappeared on the sleeper train to Edinburgh. Perhaps a trip to Scotland is in order — although I may restrict any foreign travels to our own island at present.
Awaiting your news with great interest. I shall write again soon and keep you up-to-date.
Much love,
Connie
***
At dinner that evening everyone was full of what they had seen in Marseilles. Maisie had to listen to five very similar descriptions of the great cathedral. Only Mr Merritt remained quiet. Maisie thought about asking for his view, but decided firstly that she was not particularly interested in his opinion, and secondly that it would probably cause disagreement at the table.
She chose instead to speak of her adventure with Miss Jeroboam, and the delightful little girl that she had met at the next table. Everyone listened, perhaps indulgently.
‘That’s more like the real France,’ said Mr Merritt suddenly, and Maisie tried not to look surprised. ‘Getting off the beaten track and talking to local people, instead of being lectured by a man with an artificial rose in his buttonhole.’ Mrs Fortescue looked rather injured at this, but said nothing.
‘And how did you enjoy your time away from the ship, Mr Hamilton?’ asked Miss Jeroboam, turning towards him in a confidential manner. ‘Did you accomplish your business?’
Mr Hamilton, unabashed, meditated as he chewed a mouthful of chicken Malvani. ‘Not on this occasion,’ he said, s
etting his fork down. ‘I got some way forward; but I did not achieve all that I set out to do.’
‘It is a shame that you did not manage to meet us at the Vieux Port,’ Miss Jeroboam persisted.
Mr Hamilton smiled. ‘Yes, it was. However, unfortunately one cannot always neglect business for pleasure.’ He scooped up more curry, and thus ended his contribution to the conversation. Maisie decided then and there that she would keep an eye on Mr Hamilton. There was nothing she could do when the gentlemen retired to the smoking room; but she would begin the very next morning.
Maisie suited the action to the word by appearing on the promenade deck at half past seven the next morning. No one else was about but Miss Jeroboam, who had an impressive-looking camera slung around her neck and was peering out to sea.
‘Good morning, Miss Jeroboam,’ said Maisie.
Miss Jeroboam started. ‘Good heavens, Miss Frobisher, you frightened me!’ she said, with a gay laugh. ‘I thought I had the deck to myself!’
‘Is that usually the case?’ asked Maisie.
‘Yes, it is,’ said Miss Jeroboam. ‘Sometimes the captain comes to see what I am about, or one of the lieutenants, and we discuss today’s weather, and how the ship is handling. Otherwise, at this time of the morning, I am left to my own devices.’
‘In that case I shall do the same,’ said Maisie, and disappeared in the direction of the library.
She failed to hunt down Mr Hamilton before breakfast, and when eight thirty came he was not in the dining room. In fact, he was a full fifteen minutes late. He took his seat with a calm apology, and ordered eggs and bacon.
What I would give to know where you have been, thought Maisie, as he consulted his pocket watch, wound it, and put it away. There was no sign of any emotion in his face — no secret glee, no frustration. Maisie almost forgot to eat her scrambled eggs on toast; she was so occupied in trying to appear normal while sneaking glances at Mr Hamilton. He rose from the table early, said, ‘Please excuse me, I have letters to write,’ and left.