And with a wink and a giggle, she scurried away. Her mother sent a beneficent smile my way, and I felt a sudden yearning for the good old days, when prospective mothers-in-law had despised me at first sight. Good God! Did I make for a better son-in-law than a daughter-in-law? Would I have to get a permanent pair of socks?
Shrugging off the horrifying thought, I quickly made my way across the deck. As soon as I was out of sight of the two harpies, I started to run and didn’t stop until I reached my destination. Panting, I kicked the side of the lifeboat.
The tarpaulin lifted a fraction of an inch. ‘Yes?’
‘Move over!’ I commanded. ‘I’m coming in.’
*~*~**~*~*
I sat in the dark, happily breathing in the smell of rotten fish. The time in the lifeboat, in spite of the smell and the boy’s sharp elbows, was a blissful respite. Yet sooner or later, the problem of Miss Emilia Harse would have to be dealt with. What could I do? She had me backed into a corner. She was a woman on the prowl, and I was nothing but a poor, hapless gentleman, defenceless in her clutches.
My last hope was that, surely, the two ladies weren’t planning on going to Paris, like I was. After all, there were hundreds of towns all over France, and a whole continent of people beyond. What were the chances of them going to the same city I was?
I couldn’t deal with distractions like this now. Mr Ambrose was in trouble, and that was what I had to focus on. I had to concentrate on getting to him, not getting some infatuated country damsel to keep her hands off my extra pair of socks!
Surely, they wouldn’t go to Paris.
Surely.
Probably.
The Admiral’s Operation
‘Mr Linton! What a happy surprise! We didn’t know you would be travelling to Paris, too.’
Excruciatingly slowly, I raised my eyes until, through the coach window, I gazed into the beaming faces of Miss and Mrs Harse. The sight led me to revise my earlier plans. I wasn’t just going to kill Fate. I was going to throw the witch into a deep, dark dungeon and think up some nice tortures for her before ending her misery.
‘And I’m here, too.’ Stretching up, Mr Edgar Phelps waved at me over the ladies’ heads. Winking at me and pointing at Emilia, he mouthed, I think she really likes you. Go for it!
‘How fabulous,’ I groaned. ‘And here was I thinking this was going to be a boring trip.’
Beaming, Mr Phelps slid aside, making room for me between him and Miss Emilia Harse. How nice of him. I wondered, was it legal to shoot people for good manners?
‘So,’ I said, for lack of anything better to say as I settled in the only free seat. ‘I heard correctly? You’re travelling to Paris, as well?’
Please say no. Please say no. Even if it means that my hearing was malfunctioning earlier, please say no!
‘Yes.’ The girl beamed up at me, stars sparkling in her eyes. ‘I don’t know whether you heard…I…well…’
A blush rose to her cheek.
‘Heard what?’ I enquired, curious against my better judgement.
‘My singing,’ she said with downcast eyes. ‘I was singing in my room the other day.’
‘Oh, that.’ I nodded, a painful grimace flicking over my face. ‘Trust me, I heard.’ And so did half of Dover, probably.
‘Well…’ Taking a deep breath, she raised her eyes again, and suddenly there was fire in her gaze and steel in her backbone. I blinked, taken slightly aback. I hadn’t seen this side of her before. ‘I love to sing. Especially opera. It’s my dream to become a prima donna and sing on the great stages in the city of love. To perform The Marriage of Figaro or Fidelio in front of all of Paris…’
She gave a dreamy sigh.
I considered her words carefully.
‘You want to become a famous singer? In France?’
She nodded earnestly. ‘The French operas are the best.’
‘And, um….’ How to put this? She obviously had not yet considered the repercussions. ‘You don’t think there will be any problems when a French gentleman steps onto the stage and announces that Miss Emilia Harse will be singing for them next?’