Hearts That Survive Part 19

She thought things were moving rather fast, but nodded and took the envelope. She was temporarily existing. Rather like a bird that could be made from the Meccano set. Where would she alight?

Bracing herself, she sat at attention. Then he said the words, "They've arrived."

He handed her a copy of an official report. She read it twice, to make sure.

"Are they-?" Should she say, nice?

She tried again. "Do you-?" Like them?

Ah, she was being ridiculous. "They have the legal right to them?"

"They do. The attorneys have confirmed it. Lady Stanton- Jones left information in London concerning where and who she might visit while in America. This young couple's parents, on both sides, were listed. The young couple, Mary and Bobby Freeman, took the train from California days ago, as soon as they were a.s.sured Henry George and Lady Stanton-Jones were not on the survivor list."

While taking a deep breath, she had to remind herself that Craven was not sitting. This was not personal. It was business. "May I meet them?"

"They're in the lobby. I can have them brought up."

She nodded, and he made the call.

Lydia came in wearing the brown dress. Craven handed her an envelope identical to the one Caroline had received. She had probably overheard the conversation. "I'll be in the bedroom," she said.

Caroline nodded, and sat, and waited. She didn't like to deliberately think of cla.s.s, but she'd always been identified by it. When Craven opened the door, the young couple stepped inside, uncertainty all over their faces and in their eyes. Judging by the suitable clothes they wore, Caroline judged them as being second cla.s.s. The young woman clasped her fingers in front of her and then unclasped them, letting her hands fall to her side.

Craven introduced them, nodded, and made his exit. His business on this was concluded. There was no room for debate. Caroline was just a woman who had offered kindness to a couple of children until their relatives arrived.

She must be gracious.

She'd had experience in that.

"I'm Caroline." She stood, offering them the couch. She sat near them in an armchair. They were Mary and Bobby Freeman. Nice names. Yes, their train trip was fine. The weather was good. They'd had breakfast. They looked forward to meeting the children. Their conversation stopped there. Who wanted to say anything about the tragedy? That wasn't necessary. It was simply there, having taken precedence over all other thoughts or events. The word "sorry" wasn't adequate. Everyone knew that.

They were nice. And she liked them. Ordinary, they seemed, with rather common names, self-conscious, perhaps because they might think she was somebody.

"I think they would like to ride on a train. That should be interesting, especially to little Henry. Do you have children?"

"Not yet," Mary said. "We've only been married a year. But we plan to. My parents and Bobby's parents will help us. And we have other family."

"That's wonderful. You're fortunate to have a big family."

Mary nodded and smiled. She seemed like a sweet girl.

Caroline opened her envelope. "Here is some cash. I would like for you to buy what you and the children need or want, as a gift from me."

Relief touched their faces. She had the feeling they didn't have extra. "If you're sure," Bobby said.

"I am. I've-" She stopped and cleared her throat. She mustn't say she'd grown fond of them. Her voice would never get the words out. "I've learned a good bit about them over the past days," she said. "I'll be glad to tell you all I know."

She did. After a while, Bobby a.s.sured her, "We'll take good care of them, ma'am." That wasn't necessary. She had no hold on the children.

It must appear that she did. After an uncomfortable silence, Mary said softly, "Where are they?"

"Oh. They're with my maid in another room. I'll call."

She would call? How did these telephones work? Neither Mary nor Bobby offered to call, so she rose and went to the telephone. She stared for a moment, then lifted the receiver. The front desk answered. She asked for her rooms and was connected.

"Bess, bring the children, please."

Caroline had tried to prepare them for this. Phoebe said her grandmother had told her they might meet their American relatives. Bess came in with them, and the children related well with the young couple.

Bess stood near the door.

"Bess has been so good with them," Caroline said.

Mary's and Bobby's eyes moved to Bess, their faces questioning.

"Does she go with us?" Mary said, uncomfortably.

Bess stiffened like a mannequin in a department store window. If Caroline said yes, she would go. She would obey. She was her maid.

But she was Caroline's friend, whether she knew it or not. There were no legal papers to take Bess from her.

She would keep Bess.

"No. Bess stays. But the children are accustomed to maids and nannies and tutors."

Mary's and Bobby's eyes opened wide. Then they nodded, perhaps remembering from whom the children were descended.

When there seemed nothing more to say, Caroline asked, "When do you leave?"

"Now," Mary said. "Mr. Dowd said a car is waiting to take us to the station."

"I have two rooms if you want to stay for a while."

"We have our tickets."

All right. What more was there to say, to do? She beckoned Henry and he came to her. "These nice relatives are going to take you shopping. And take you for a ride on a big train."

Henry looked pleased. Phoebe looked reticent.

Caroline didn't say you may never see me again. No one had told them they'd never see their daddy or their grandmother again. And maybe they would.

She took a piece of stationery from the desk and wrote her name. She had no address. A sense of panic started to rise, then she quickly wrote Caroline Chadwick, c/o Craven Dowd, Beaumont Railroad Company, New York, USA.

Then she remembered that the attorneys had information. They had found relatives, all too quickly. They could keep in touch.

She and the children hugged the way Henry hugged his toy box and Phoebe her blue bear. They said goodbye as if they'd be back before breakfast the next morning. Someone had said that when they were getting into the little lifeboats.

Then the door closed. Bess kept her back to Caroline. Maybe she was guarding the door lest Caroline make a break for it and drag them back in. Bess's shoulders rose and fell.

"All right now," a welcome voice said, and Lydia appeared from the bedroom. "We have shopping to do."

Yes, they did. Lydia must get makeup. Her eyes were much too puffy and red.

"And you," Caroline said to Bess, "will come along. I don't want to see anything that looks like an ap.r.o.n or cap."

"Yes, ma'am."

Caroline heaved a sigh. "You're my companion. You will dress like it."

Bess hesitated. "I have no money, ma'am."

"Of course you do. You're my employee, remember?"

Bess said, "Yes, ma'am," again, a slight tinge of rebellion in her tone. But if Bess insisted on cla.s.s distinction, Caroline would make her demands.

"I'll call down about the car," Lydia said.

After she made the call and was told at what time the car would arrive, they planned the shopping trip. "No talk about anything except clothes and jewelry and maybe a hair salon."

"We wouldn't have to worry about that if we wore caps," Bess quipped.

Caroline and Lydia stared at her a moment, then all three laughed. Maybe Bess was coming around after all.

Caroline refused to think of what she could do nothing about. She and Lydia knew how to shop. Simply go through the motions.

She counted her blessing of having two friends. Even if she had had to buy one of them.

36.

Craven came to the door of Lydia's suite and introduced Lawrence, a man in a business suit, who would accompany them on their shopping trip. Lawrence said, "Your car is here, ma'am."

He led her, Caroline, and Bess to the limousine out front, waving aside reporters still shouting their questions and photographers snapping pictures. Then she was reminded they had arrived only last night. Somehow it seemed like another lifetime.

The chauffeur knew where to take them. Lydia was not surprised when Lawrence accompanied them into the department store.

Caroline leaned close. "He sure takes good care of you."

Lydia did not think she meant Lawrence.

Their purchases were chic but sensible. They didn't need evening gowns or elaborate jewelry. They did buy pretty hats.

Lydia enjoyed helping Caroline pick out clothes for Bess, who balked all the way but looked pleased when viewing herself in the mirror, dressed like a lady.

They returned in the afternoon from the most unusual shopping trip Lydia had ever experienced, it being one of necessity. Lawrence helped deliver their packages and made it known he was as near as a telephone call.

After unpacking and placing her clothes in the closet and drawers, Lydia dozed for a while, until Craven called and asked that they have dinner together.

"In the dining room?"

"No, that's not safe yet. We can have dinner brought up."

"Caroline and Bess could join us."

"Not tonight. We have business to discuss."

"Business?"

"Personal business. Yours."

She scoffed. She had no personal business. But at least this would give her a reason to dress in her new clothes. "Order for me," she said. She hadn't eaten since having the late breakfast.

She wore the medium blue silk gown and fastened a string of pearls around her neck. A little makeup helped take away that haggard look.

Being in no mood to fight with her hair, she brushed it, twisted it into a roll at the back and let the curls at her face do what they would.

When she opened the door to Craven, his glance moved over the dress in a casual way. Something about his eyes made her feel them. "I see you went shopping."

She bristled. He knew she went shopping. He was the one who had given her the money, had sent the car and the driver and the bodyguard or whatever he was.

Apparently, he had gone shopping too. The fact that a man could be blessed with a face that needed no makeup just wasn't fair.

"Does much more for your eyes than the brown one."

But not what a Beaumont should wear in the evening at dinner? He might as well ask again if she knew who she was. She did, and she would tell him when the moment was right.

While they waited, she peeked out the window at the streets below, which were still crowded with people, coming and going, even as the sun vanished and darkness crept in. "Phoebe and Henry may be on the train now."

"They were to leave several hours ago."

"Caroline will miss them. She's naturally drawn to children."

So was John. He built toy trains for children.

She turned quickly to the window again and pretended to look out. Ahead of her was some vast nothing, like a sea with no land in sight, and she found she was twisting the rings on her fingers. She looked down. Caroline's ring. She kept forgetting to give it back. The thought of taking it off was too- "I think dinner's here," Craven said even before the knock sounded.

She looked up and saw their reflection in the gla.s.s.

He stood in the center of the room, but she knew he'd been watching her. He had a habit of that.

Filet mignon, baked potato, and vegetables. Nothing fancy, but it looked wonderful and the aroma whetted her appet.i.te. "I'm famished," she said.

He pa.s.sed her the breadbasket, and she quickly b.u.t.tered a roll and bit into it while he poured the wine. "The hearing will begin in the morning," he said. "So I will be tied up with that most of the day."