“But they are left unlocked most of the day,” Anne pointed out, “for the maids.”
Wentworth agreed. “Andsomeoneaboard would have a skeleton key, if not multiple, in case a key is lost.”
“That is a fair point, sir.” Mr. Belvedere rubbed his mouth. “Only now Iamconcerned that something nefarious shall be found in my quarters!”
“We are still not sure that anything was taken, are we?” Mrs. Scott asked. “Perhaps it is a storm in a teakettle.”
Storm in a teakettle or not, it was decided to take up Anne’s suggestion to search all the passenger cabins at once. This was a time-consuming procedure, for clearly no one should search theirowncabin, yet no one wanted anyone else, even the officers, to rifle through their things.
Anne, and this surprised Caroline not at all, was the most humble and practical. “I think only ladies should search each other’s rooms and our poor maids, of course. Now, Caroline andI are friends, so we must not be responsible for one another. Perhaps Mrs. Scott and I might go together, and then Caroline and Lady Marston?—”
“I withdraw from the lists,” Lady Marston said sarcastically. “Please excuse me from this recruitment.”
Anne persisted. “Then Caroline and Susan—no, they are mistress and maid. I shall search with Susan, and Caroline with Mrs. Scott. Colonel Fitzwilliam has already begun with the captain, and either Mr. Belvedere or Sir Mark could search with my husband…”
Mr. Belvedere crossed his leg over his knee. “I’m game.”
Everyone was quiet for a moment. Wentworth put in, “Perhaps not, under the circumstances. Sir Mark?”
“Lord, yes, I’ve never been so bored in my life. At your service. I just need a pinch of snuff before I sally forth. Anyone else—Belvedere? No, hard feelings, eh?”
“Er, certainly, thank you.” He took a pinch slowly. “Generous of you.”
“Not at all! Now, to work.”
The searches proceeded, and to Caroline’s amusement, itwasrather fascinating to rifle through Lady Marston’s things. It was perhaps good that Caroline was of a class and breeding not to need employment, for she recognized within herself a definite temptation to nosiness.
Lady Marston broughtthirteenbrooches in her jewel box, some quite hideous, and some—unless Caroline was grossly mistaken—of paste. Others of her jewels were very fine, however, Caroline thought them somewhat lacking in taste.
And Sir Mark did indeed wear stays to keep his belly confined. His clothes were all recently let out as well, some with panels to add multiple inches. Perhaps that was why Lady Marston often recommended him to refrain at supper—he was obliged to reduce.
One of Lady Marston’s small valises held neatly-labeled bottles liketincture of camphor (for cough), tincture of valerian (for sleep) laudanum (pain).A somewhat larger bottle was labeledElixir Paregoric, for fevers, coughs, or distemper.
“If we have any ills aboard ship,” Caroline commented to Mrs. Scott, “we know whom to ask.”
She was more businesslike with Anne and Wentworth’s cabin, for she felt a little more as if she were violating a friend, although thishadbeen Anne’s idea. There was not much to be learned here, other than the fine quality of Captain Wentworth’s things, his height, for the sheets were untucked from the bed to let his feet hang over, and Anne’s general tidiness. Caroline and Mrs. Scott looked quickly through their trunk, and the two drawers under the bed, but of documents, there were only Anne’s Bible and journal, Captain Wentworth’s discharge papers, and some records of their own bank draft for Istanbul.
Mrs. Scott looked around once more. “Unless we flip the mattress, there is not much more.”
“I suppose we should feel under the edge as we did the Marstons? I do not expect to find anything, but Anne will only feel right if we do it thoroughly.”
Mrs. Scott helped hold the tick while Caroline felt underneath. The sheets fluttered as they dropped it back into place. “Nothing at all,” Caroline said.
“No; not that I expected it,” Mrs. Scott said. “It is clear they are nutty on each other. If they had a plot it would be between the sheets, not under them.”
Caroline choked back a gurgle of a laugh, but she was really quite shocked. “Mrs. Scott!”
“Well, the sheets do speak for themselves?—”
“He istall,” Caroline whispered.
“That is one explanation.”
“This is a dreadfully vulgar conversation.”
“Is thetonso proper? I apologize.”
“There is something very different about whispering the lateston-ditconcerning a married lady and hercicisbeo, than to make earthy comments about a married lady and her husband…”
