snakes out of Ireland, my voice would do it. But,” she added cheerfully, “I do love to listen. A musicale might be a treat.”
“Well, then,” Katie said briskly, “I’ll keep the little ones entertained while you change out of your traveling clothes, and then I’ll hand them over to you while I do the same.” She was anxious to see Brian and Patrick again, and was sure they’d have made their way to the general room by now. Thinking the new white middy with the linen collar her mother had sewn for her for the trip might be nice, Katie opened her satchel.
Elizabeth had watched the tenders disembark their passengers from Ireland. It seemed to her, looking down from above, that most of them were probably destined for third class. She had hoped to find another young companion among these new arrivals. But no one seemed dressed elegantly enough for first class.
Elizabeth was disappointed, and was about to turn away from the rail when someone caught her eye. A young girl…perhaps her age…sat in the tender, her own eyes wide with awe as she looked up at the huge ship. Fiery red hair spilled down her shoulders instead of being confined in a proper do, and her traveling clothes looked wrinkled and dusty. But she had a beautiful face, and there was something about her, an electrical air of excitement that Elizabeth found herself envying. What would it be like to still become so excited about something new? She herself hardly ever did anymore.
Sitting beside the girl was a tall, dark-haired young man in a worn wool jacket. Although he seemed much more restrained than the girl, who was waving wildly at another dark-haired young man arriving in the second tender, Elizabeth was certain the first two were traveling together. Married? They seemed young, but they could be embarking on a honeymoon voyage. But then, who was the second young man? She heard him shout, “Katie!” and saw the red-haired girl wave in response. Katie. Short for Kathleen?
The three held her interest for several moments. She would have continued watching them had not a voice at her elbow said, “Elizabeth, I’d like you to meet someone.” Max’s voice. Elizabeth sighed in irritation. He was actually going to introduce her to that gypsy person? But she had no desire to meet the girl!
Unwilling to let him see her annoyance, she pasted a polite smile on her lips, and turned around. “Oh, hello, Max. I was just watching the Queenstown passengers arrive. It’s great fun. They all look so interesting!”
Max gave her a wry smile. “You sound a little like the queen gazing down upon the peasants.” The girl at his side, her wild, dark hair windblown, smiled, too.
Elizabeth flushed. “I didn’t mean that. I just meant—”
“This is Lily Costello,” Max interrupted, smiling at the girl in the brightly flowered jacket. “We met in Paris. She’s traveling to New York to go on the stage.” The smile broadened. “But she’s already an actress. And a very good one. I’ve seen her in a number of plays.”
Elizabeth shook the girl’s hand. “Costello doesn’t sound French.”
“I’m Italian,” the girl said, with barely a trace of an accent. “We moved to France when I was eight. When my parents were killed in a train crash, I had already been on the stage for several years, so I decided to stay in France, where I was known in the theater community.”
An actress. That explained the odd costuming, the wild hair. Lily Costello wasn’t a gypsy at all, she was only an actress. “Your parents allowed you to go on stage as a child?”
Lily’s fine, delicately arched brows rose. “Allow me?” She shrugged. “They saw that I had a special talent and that I was determined to use it, and that it would do them no good to stand in my way. I do not understand what you mean by ‘allow.’ And you? What is it that you do in America, Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth was stunned. Within her own circle of friends, no one would have asked such a
“Well, then,” Katie said briskly, “I’ll keep the little ones entertained while you change out of your traveling clothes, and then I’ll hand them over to you while I do the same.” She was anxious to see Brian and Patrick again, and was sure they’d have made their way to the general room by now. Thinking the new white middy with the linen collar her mother had sewn for her for the trip might be nice, Katie opened her satchel.
Elizabeth had watched the tenders disembark their passengers from Ireland. It seemed to her, looking down from above, that most of them were probably destined for third class. She had hoped to find another young companion among these new arrivals. But no one seemed dressed elegantly enough for first class.
Elizabeth was disappointed, and was about to turn away from the rail when someone caught her eye. A young girl…perhaps her age…sat in the tender, her own eyes wide with awe as she looked up at the huge ship. Fiery red hair spilled down her shoulders instead of being confined in a proper do, and her traveling clothes looked wrinkled and dusty. But she had a beautiful face, and there was something about her, an electrical air of excitement that Elizabeth found herself envying. What would it be like to still become so excited about something new? She herself hardly ever did anymore.
Sitting beside the girl was a tall, dark-haired young man in a worn wool jacket. Although he seemed much more restrained than the girl, who was waving wildly at another dark-haired young man arriving in the second tender, Elizabeth was certain the first two were traveling together. Married? They seemed young, but they could be embarking on a honeymoon voyage. But then, who was the second young man? She heard him shout, “Katie!” and saw the red-haired girl wave in response. Katie. Short for Kathleen?
The three held her interest for several moments. She would have continued watching them had not a voice at her elbow said, “Elizabeth, I’d like you to meet someone.” Max’s voice. Elizabeth sighed in irritation. He was actually going to introduce her to that gypsy person? But she had no desire to meet the girl!
Unwilling to let him see her annoyance, she pasted a polite smile on her lips, and turned around. “Oh, hello, Max. I was just watching the Queenstown passengers arrive. It’s great fun. They all look so interesting!”
Max gave her a wry smile. “You sound a little like the queen gazing down upon the peasants.” The girl at his side, her wild, dark hair windblown, smiled, too.
Elizabeth flushed. “I didn’t mean that. I just meant—”
“This is Lily Costello,” Max interrupted, smiling at the girl in the brightly flowered jacket. “We met in Paris. She’s traveling to New York to go on the stage.” The smile broadened. “But she’s already an actress. And a very good one. I’ve seen her in a number of plays.”
Elizabeth shook the girl’s hand. “Costello doesn’t sound French.”
“I’m Italian,” the girl said, with barely a trace of an accent. “We moved to France when I was eight. When my parents were killed in a train crash, I had already been on the stage for several years, so I decided to stay in France, where I was known in the theater community.”
An actress. That explained the odd costuming, the wild hair. Lily Costello wasn’t a gypsy at all, she was only an actress. “Your parents allowed you to go on stage as a child?”
Lily’s fine, delicately arched brows rose. “Allow me?” She shrugged. “They saw that I had a special talent and that I was determined to use it, and that it would do them no good to stand in my way. I do not understand what you mean by ‘allow.’ And you? What is it that you do in America, Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth was stunned. Within her own circle of friends, no one would have asked such a
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