Two large hands clasped my waist, lifting me in the air. I laughed and shook my skirts, a thrill going through me. Liza had been right—having a bit of fun didn’t detract from the seriousness of the evening, but it was a fantastic way of coping with it. Death surrounded me, but life did, too. In these stolen moments, I appreciated just how alive I was.
Lips pressed close to my ear and I instinctively arched into the touch, momentarily forgetting where I was and who I was with. I was lowered to the ground and I spun the second my slippers touched down, grinning. Mephistopheles’s eyes widened in shock and he abruptly stumbled back. I was having too much fun to be disappointed he wasn’t who I imagined.
“Would you please do that again?” I asked. He hesitated briefly, then brought me near and twirled me away, his cockiness returning as he lifted me above the dance floor. I held my hands out to either side as he spun us around. “I feel like I’m in a fairy tale.”
He placed me back down, eyes filled with mirth. “If a fairy tale is what you’re after, I’ll put a curse on you and lock you in a coffin or tower of your choosing. Then I’ll kiss you awake and we’ll live happily ever after. That’s how those things work, you know.”
I shook
my head. “You’re really charming, aren’t you?”
“That would be Prince Charming to you, Miss Wadsworth.”
We didn’t speak again for what felt like hours, but I danced and laughed and had almost convinced myself that a future in a carnival wouldn’t be the worst fate after all.
SEVENTEEN
SOMETHING IN THE CARDS
AUDREY ROSE’S CABIN
RMS ETRURIA
5 JANUARY 1889
I was up before the sun, peering out the porthole in my cabin, watching the nearly black waters turn gold as it rose and stretched across the horizon. The sea was choppy, promising a winter storm in the next day or so. I turned around and couldn’t stop a smile from forming. Liza slept soundly, her limbs tangled up in the covers and her hair spilling around her like drizzled caramel. I still could not believe we’d sneaked into the carnival’s party, and that I’d actually danced the cancan. It was reckless and the memory provoked worry. Not over what I’d done, but rather how much I’d enjoyed it. I only wished Thomas could have joined us.
Pushing that out of my mind, I quietly moved to the small vanity in my room, leafing through the notes of parchment I’d written out sometime after we’d returned to our cabin. I included every last odd occurrence that had happened since we’d boarded the Etruria.
On one scrap of parchment I had “Miss Arden murdered, likely poisoned, though evidence was indeterminable. Playing card found prior to body onstage: Ace of Spades. Connected? Father a physician. Tarot card enactment: Seven of Swords.”
On another, “Stolen bolts of silk, scarves.”
On a third sheet I’d written, “Miss Crenshaw murdered by poison. No playing card found. Tarot card enactment: the Star.”
From my meager attempt at sorting out the tarot card meanings, the best I could come up with for the Star was “transformation.” How that fit in with the case and murder was beyond me.
The next piece of paper said, “Miss Prescott—first to be murdered, stabbed. Playing card found: Ace of Clubs. Father a chief magistrate. Tarot card enactment: Ten of Swords. Betrayal. Quite literally, stabbed in the back.”
I sat back, fingers tapping over the papers. There had to be something there, something that tied them all together. Or perhaps there were two separate mysteries coexisting. One person was committing petty burglaries; another was murdering women as if they were tarot cards sprung to life. My skin crawled like beetles in a grave. I knew Thomas was correct about criminals using the ships for anonymous passage between continents, but could there truly be two criminals aboard our vessel? I supposed it wasn’t out of the question—two out of a few hundred passengers wasn’t that high a number at all.
What I wanted to do next was gain entry to Miss Crenshaw’s cabin. After the discovery of chocolate cake in her stomach, I wanted to compare a sample from her room.
Someone knocked lightly on my door and, assuming it was either a tea service or an attendant, I opened it. I clutched my dressing gown closed, narrowing my eyes. A quick glance over my shoulder found my cousin still lightly snoring, her breaths deep and even.
“It’s a bit early to be calling on me, Cresswell.” I tugged him inside, peering down the deck to be sure he hadn’t been seen. “People will think you’ve spent the night here.” I studied the curve of his lips and the widening of his eyes. Fiend. “Which is precisely what you’re hoping for.”
“You injure me with that accusation, Wadsworth. Must I always have ulterior motives?” He lifted his hand to his heart, staggering a bit. “Perhaps I was simply bringing you tea.”
“Oh? Is that what you were doing?” I stared pointedly at his empty hands. “Forget it. You’re here and that’s actually perfect. Come look at these. But be quiet.” I indicated the random clues, trying to ignore the fact I was in a dressing robe and we were in a bedchamber. At least we weren’t alone. If he started kissing me, I’m not sure I’d wish to stop. I’d missed him immensely last night. “Do you see any pattern or formula with these?”
Thomas removed his top hat and was across the room in a few short, long-limbed strides. He pushed the papers around the desk, frowning a bit at one. “Miss Prescott was murdered on night one, but Miss Crenshaw went missing before we set sail. The order in which we find the bodies doesn’t necessarily indicate the order in which they were murdered.”
“Thomas,” I said, a new idea sprouting, “will you teach me how to place myself in the mind-set of a murderer? Like how you did the first time we met?”
He strummed his fingers against his thighs. “In your uncle’s class?”
“Yes,” I said, attention shooting over to my still-sleeping cousin, “when you pretended as if you were Jack the Ripper and had gutted the first victim. I want to learn to do that. It’s not much different than all of the magic in the carnival, is it?”