A Dangerous Fortune(169)

He looked at her curiously for a moment. Then he began to stroke her breast through the silk. His touch was gentle. His fingertips brushed the sensitive nipple and she gasped with pleasure. He changed his grip and held her breast in his palm, lifting and moving it. Then he grasped her nipple between finger and thumb and squeezed. She closed her eyes. He pinched harder, so that it hurt. Then, suddenly, he twisted her nipple so viciously that she screamed and pulled away from him, standing up.

“You dumb cunt,” he sneered, getting off the bed.

“No!” she said. “No!”

“You really thought I would many you!”

“Yes—”

“You’ve got no money and no influence anymore, the bank is bust, and you even lost the snuffboxes. What would I want with you?”

She felt a pain in her chest, like a knife in her heart. “You said you loved me….”

“You’re fifty-eight—my mother’s age, for God’s sake! You’re old and wrinkled and mean and selfish, and I wouldn’t f*ck you if you were the last woman on earth!”

She felt faint. She tried not to cry but it was no good. Tears welled up in her eyes and she began to shake with sobs of despair. She was ruined. She had no home, no money and no friends, and the man she trusted had betrayed her. She turned away from him to hide her face: she did not want him to see her shame and grief. “Please, stop,” she whispered.

“I’ll stop,” he spat out. “I’ve got a cabin reserved on this ship and that’s where I’m going.”

“But when we get to Cordova …”

“You’re not going to Cordova. You can get off the ship at Lisbon and go back to England. I’ve no further use for you.”

Every word was like a blow and she backed away from him, holding her hands up in front of her as if to ward off his curses. She bumped against the cabin door. Desperate to get away from him, she opened it and backed out.

The freezing night air cleared her head suddenly. She was behaving like a helpless girl, not a mature, capable woman. She had lost control of her life briefly, and it was time to seize it back again.

A man in evening dress walked past her, smoking a cigar. He stared at her nightclothes in astonishment but did not speak to her.

That gave her an idea.

She stepped back into the cabin and closed the door. Micky was straightening his tie in the mirror. “There’s someone coming,” she said urgently. “A policeman!”

Micky’s demeanor changed in a flash. The sneer was wiped off his face and replaced by a look of panic. “Oh, my God,” he said.

Augusta was thinking quickly. “We’re still within British waters,” she said. “You can be arrested and sent back on a coast guard cutter.” She had no idea whether this was true.

“I’ll have to hide.” He climbed into the trunk. “Close the front, quickly,” he said.

She shut him in the trunk.

Then she flipped the latch to lock it.

“That’s better,” she said.

She sat on the bed, staring at the trunk. In her mind she went over and over their conversation. She had made herself vulnerable and he had wounded her. She thought of how he had caressed her. Only two other men had touched her breasts: Strang and Joseph. She thought of how he had twisted her nipple then spurned her with obscene words. As the minutes went by her rage cooled and became a dark, vicious yearning for revenge.

Micky’s voice, muffled, came from inside the trunk. “Augusta! What’s happening?”

She made no reply.

He began to shout for help. She covered the trunk with blankets from the bed to deaden the sound.

After a while he stopped.

Thoughtfully, Augusta removed the luggage labels bearing her name from the trunk.

She heard cabin doors slam: passengers were heading for the dining room. The ship began to pitch slightly in the swell as it steamed out into the English Channel.

The evening passed quickly for Augusta as she sat on the bed brooding.

Passengers trickled back in twos and threes between midnight and two o’clock. After that the band stopped playing and the ship became quiet but for the sounds of the engines and the sea.

Augusta stared obsessively at the trunk in which she had locked Micky. It had been carried up here on the back of a muscular porter. Augusta could not lift it, but she thought she could drag it. It had brass handles on the sides and leather straps top and bottom. She took hold of the leather strap on its top and pulled, tilting the trunk sideways. It tipped over and fell on its face. It made a loud bang. Micky began to shout again, and she covered the trunk with blankets once more. She waited to see if anyone would come to investigate the bang, but no one did. Micky stopped yelling.

She seized the strap again and pulled. It was very heavy, but she was able to move it a few inches at a time. After each tug she rested.

It took her ten minutes to drag the trunk to the cabin door. Then she put on her stockings, boots and fur coat, and opened the door.

There was no one around. The passengers were asleep, and if a crew member patrolled the decks she did not see him. The ship was lit by dim electric bulbs, and there were no stars.

She dragged the trunk through the cabin door and rested again.

After that it was a little easier, for the deck was slippery with snow. Ten minutes later she had the trunk up against the rail.