Page 11 of Murder on the SS Leviathan
4
Maud had been already asleep when Henry had joined her in their bed, his steps a little unsteady crossing the room, thanks to the combination of liberal indulgence and the ship’s gentle rolling.
When he woke, it was still dark and, where Maud’s head should have been, the pillow was bare.
Where was she?
The woman he’d married wasn’t like other women. He’d known that all along. Hadn’t that been the first flame of her attraction for him? He’d told himself he had no wish for her to change.
Until Scogliera.
There, her impulses had delivered her into mortal danger. Some force, of luck or fate or instinct, had led him to her and brought her safely home.
She’d learnt something, had she not, from that terrible night?
Of the need for him to always be beside her, to protect her, no matter her choices. And yet, the bed was cool where she’d thrown back the sheets.
Donning dressing gown and slippers, he looked first out of the porthole then stepped outside.
The upper deck was empty, lit softly by the moon, hanging low. Looking downwards, to the lower deck, he saw her.
She was at the rail, alone, staring at the churning water below, her velvet opera cloak over her nightgown.
A rendezvous?
He watched for a while, but no one approached.
Unmoving, as if mesmerised by the movement of the waves, she stood; nothing between her and the ocean but the railing.
What was she thinking?
Approaching, he whispered her name, that she might not be startled.
Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled briefly before turning away again.
’A penny for your thoughts.’ Standing behind, he brought his arms around her.
‘As much as that?’
‘Actually, I don’t have even a penny on me.’
‘That’s a shame.’ She leant back against his chest. ‘We might have thrown it in and made a wish.’
He was tempted to find out what she might wish for, but knew well enough that one should only delve if one was prepared for the answers. He sensed this wasn’t the best time to ask.
They remained as they were for some moments, and he realized there was hardly a breath of wind, the ship moving forward more smoothly than earlier in the day. Still, there was the sensation of air pushing past and, some way off, a bank of mist carried towards them.
‘What’s down there do you think?’ She placed her hands over his, where they rested above the curve of her belly.
‘The inscrutable deeps?’ He touched his chin to the crown of her head and pulled her closer, encircling her to share his warmth. ‘Fangtooth fish and vampire squid, shipwrecks and lost cities. Perhaps a mermaid or two.’
‘All where the light does not penetrate…’ She was so quiet, he could barely hear.
He steeled himself to ask. ’You’re anxious, Maud.’
She didn’t answer straight away but when she did, he could tell she was contriving to seem more spirited than she felt.
‘Only unsettled.’ She pressed upon his hands, beneath which new life was growing. ‘Nervous, I suppose. It’s what all women feel, I’m led to believe, when they prepare to enter this stage of life. It’s not just my body changing. Once the child comes, nothing will be the same…’ Her voice drifted off.
