CHAPTER 5
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CHARLOTTE:
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THERE HAD BEEN INTERVALS of unbearable anxiety walking along the boardwalk to meet Lucia at the Chelsea Piers with Aunt Merry and Tilly, who had been elevated from Montrose maid to the ludicrous role of chaperon (it had been the lesser evil, a condition for no other tiresome supervision being foisted upon Lucia and me on the Grand Tour). A porter followed us with my black steamer trunks through the crowds. As Aunt Merry and Tilly looked for the pier where the RMS Mauretania was docked, I kept my eyes alert, scanning the crowds for a Western Union courier hurrying towards me, or of Rhys’s felt Homburg and best Sunday suit, or the possibility of Diego himself arriving with news which would prevent me from boarding the RMS Mauretania. But there were
