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Crimson fabric spilled like fresh blood over the floor of Miss Crenshaw’s first-class cabin, an unsightly gash in an otherwise well-appointed chamber. I stood over the mess, hands on my hips, studying the silks the way I imagined Thomas was doing beside me, trying to discern order from chaos. It was a monumental task, especially since I was all too aware of the need for discretion as her parents’ gazes seared into my back. I didn’t need to possess Thomas’s uncanny skills with deductions to know they wouldn’t be pleased by my conclusion.
Honestly, though, hers was a much-better fate than the one I’d originally feared. I stared at the crumpled gown until nearly going cross-eyed, hoping to find some clue as to where its owner disappeared to. One that would not cause a fainting spell or scandal. Lord Crenshaw was a popular figure, and I knew the reputation of his family and their good name was of the utmost importance.
I refocused on the dress. The fabric was beautiful—some of the finest threads in all of Europe from what I could see. The only conclusion I had was that it was an awful shame to discard it on the floor in such a careless manner.
Miss Crenshaw might be reckless in personality, but that didn’t mean she’d been murdered. If foul play wasn’t the issue, then that meant she’d run off… and young, unmarried women typically didn’t do so alone. A glance at her parents had me questioning which they’d prefer to be true. A scandal of this nature was a death in itself.
Two champagne flutes sat on a nightstand along with a half-eaten chocolate cake, furthering my suspicion that she hadn’t been alone.
I flicked my attention to my uncle, but he was preoccupied with watching crew members scour the bedroom chamber, ensuring they didn’t disturb any potential forensic clues. After the unveiling of Dr. Arden’s daughter earlier, everyone was balanced on a scalpel’s edge.
I squinted toward the porthole, recalling the constant ebb and flow of people who worked the docks prior to us leaving port yesterday. It would be an ideal place to get lost in a crowd.
“You claim that your daughter has been missing since yesterday? Before the ship left?” They nodded. “Have you questioned her lady’s maid?” I toed the dress with my own embroidered silk shoes. “Someone had to have helped her out of this garment. The bodice is quite intricate. Look at the stays on the back—there’s no possible way she’d have undone that alone.”
Thomas lifted his dark brows in appraisal, but didn’t comment. I studied him out of the corner of my eye, noticing the smile he was fighting and wondered what I’d missed that had amused him.
“Surely this is not an indication of foul play,” said Lord Crenshaw. I noted that he didn’t answer my question. I pried my attention away from his distractingly white mustache. “Our daughter might be visiting another guest. Or perhaps she changed her mind and returned to London prior to sailing.”
Ready to jump at any lifeline and save his ship’s reputation, Captain Norwood readily agreed. “I can say with authority it wouldn’t be the first time a passenger has decided to disembark from the ship. Ocean travel can be quite daunting to some.”
“Yes,” Lord Crenshaw said, looking hopeful. “That’s probably it. Elizabeth is deathly afraid of the water. Perhaps she didn’t want to make a fuss and went home. She’d mentioned how nervous she was just yesterday morning. Which was the last time we saw her.”
“Would she have taken anyone with her? A chaperone?” I asked, seeing the hesitation on Lady Crenshaw’s face. It was a nice story, but most fairy tales had a dark side to them, especially when it came to a princess’s fate. “A footman or maid?”
“I—I don’t believe anyone else is missing,” Lady Crenshaw said. “But Elizabeth wouldn’t… she’s such a good girl. She probably didn’t wish to ruin our trip. It’s not as if she’s a lower-class trollop.”
I chomped down on my immediate response, face burning. If she were a he, I doubted they’d call her such names. And her station had nothing to do with the matter whatsoever. Plenty of less fortunate families had more class than Lady Crenshaw had just showed.
“Have you noticed anything of value missing?” I asked. “Jewelry, trinkets…”
Lady Crenshaw shook her head. “Only an emerald ring. But Elizabeth never took it off.”
“You’re quite sure that’s it?” I pressed.
“I haven’t had anyone go through her things.” Lady Crenshaw flipped open the jewelry box, rifled through it a bit, then drew her brows together. “A strand of pearls is also missing. I-I’m really not sure that that has anything to do with her disappearance, though.”
Thomas bit his lower lip, an indication he was battling some inner war with himself. “Was she alone? I see two champagne flutes, one of which has lipstick and the other does not,” he said. “Another obvious deduction may be that she was undressed by her lover after they indulged in some spirits.”
Everyone in the room sucked in a sharp breath. I rolled my eyes skyward, wondering what I’d done to irk any higher power that might exist. It was the one thing we were all supposed to think but not speak aloud. Even Uncle stiffened.
“That would explain the hasty pile of clothes,” Thomas added, undeterred by the sudden silence, “the crinkled bedding, and the subsequent absence of Miss Crenshaw. Perhaps she’s run off with someone and didn’t wish to tell her parents. If I had to guess, I’d say it was someone below her station. Which is all the more plausible after noticing that ink stain on her pillowcase. Appears as if someone who worked with their hands rested them there. It’s also on the crystal.”
“How dare you!” Lord Crenshaw said, face reddening by the second. I wondered what had aggravated him more—the thought of Miss Crenshaw running away, or potentially going off with someone of a lower class. “Our daughter would do no such thing… to even suggest that sort of reprehensible behavior is—”
“Don’t lose your temper, dear.” Lady Crenshaw laid a hand on his arm. “Let’s leave them to this and retire for bed. Elizabeth is home in Lon
don. We’ll write to her when we’re in New York in a week’s time. This was all a silly misunderstanding.”
Lord Crenshaw nodded stiffly to the captain and gave Thomas a severe glare before leaving the room. Once they were gone, I set my attention back on the cabin. There weren’t any signs of a struggle, and no blood splatter. Judging from the dress left on the floor, I doubted a murderer would have spent time washing the walls of blood only to leave the bed and gown crumpled. Especially given the theatrical nature of the last body we’d found. Though the second champagne flute was a troubling detail. One that didn’t sit right.
It was likely as Thomas suggested—a young woman who’d chosen a different path for herself. After spending the last half hour with her parents, I’d say it was high time she’d run off. One more hour with them and I’d do the same.
Uncle poked his head into the water closet, looked around, then pushed his spectacles up his nose. “All seems in order, Captain. From the preliminary inspection, I don’t believe there were foul intentions at play here. Seems like a young girl who’s maybe a bit”—his eyes moved to mine—“spirited for her family’s tastes.”
Captain Norwood visibly sank with relief. If one more body turned up this evening, I imagined he’d row himself back to England. “Very good, then. The remainder of this voyage must go smoothly. Much is at stake for it and myself.” He exhaled. “Come. Let’s get you three to your cabins. Have you had time to tour the auxiliary sails yet?” He placed a hand on Uncle’s shoulder, guiding him toward the promenade. “Truly remarkable. When powered with the steam stacks, this ship can carve through the ocean like it’s a Christmas ham.”
“How festive,” Thomas uttered as we fell into step behind them. “An ocean liner that’s akin to a knife carving salted meat. If that doesn’t suggest luxury, I’m not sure what does.”
