Lady Emily Haywood, known to one and all as “Lady Em,” sat straight-backed on a handsome wing chair in the most expensive suite on the ship. She was birdlike thin, with a full head of pure white hair and a wrinkled face that still held signs of beauty. It was easy to visualize her as the dazzling American prima ballerina who at age twenty had captured the heart of Sir Richard Haywood, the then forty-six-year-old famous and wealthy British explorer.
Lady Em sighed and looked around. This is actually worth the money, she thought. She was sitting in the great room of the suite. It had a king-sized television set over the fireplace, antique Persian rugs, couches upholstered in pale gold tapestry on either end of the room, contrasting chairs, antique side tables and a bar. The suite also had a very large bedroom and a bath that included a steam shower and a Jacuzzi. The bathroom floor was heated, and incredible marble mosaics adorned the walls. Doors from the bedroom and the great room opened onto a private balcony. The refrigerator was stocked with the snacks she had chosen.
Lady Em smiled. She had brought some of her best jewels to wear on the ship. There were going to be a lot of celebrities on board for this maiden voyage, and as usual she wanted to outshine them all. When she signed up for the cruise, she had announced that in the spirit of her luxurious surroundings, she was going to bring with her, and wear, the fabulous emerald necklace that was believed to have belonged to Cleopatra. After the cruise, she was planning to donate it to the Smithsonian Institution. It’s beyond priceless, she thought, and with no relatives I bother with, who would I leave it to? Besides that, the Egyptian government was trying to get it back, claiming it came from a looted tomb and must be returned. Let them and the Smithsonian fight about it, Lady Em thought. This is my first, and last, hurrah with the necklace.
The door to the bedroom was slightly open, and she could hear her assistant, Brenda, moving around inside it as she unpacked the steamer trunk and suitcases with the clothing Lady Em had chosen to bring from her extensive wardrobe. Brenda alone was permitted to handle Lady Em’s personal possessions. Butlers and valets were not.
What would I do without her? Lady Em asked herself. Before I even know there is something I want or need, she anticipates it! I hope that her twenty years of devotion to me has not cost her the opportunity to have her own life.
Her financial advisor and the executor of her will, Roger Pearson, was another matter entirely. She had invited Roger and his wife on the cruise and always looked forward to Roger’s company. She had known him since he was a boy, and his grandfather and father had been her trusted financial advisors.
But a week ago she had met an old friend, Winthrop Hollows, whom she hadn’t seen in years. Like her, he had been a client of the Pearson accounting firm. When he asked if she still employed Roger, her friend had said, “Be aware he is not the man either his grandfather or father was. I would suggest that you have an outside firm review your finances thoroughly.” When she pressed Winthrop for an explanation, he refused to say more.
She heard footsteps, then the door from the bedroom swung open. Brenda Martin came into the great room. She was a big woman, not so much overweight as muscular. She looked older than her sixty years because she wore her graying hair unflatteringly short. Her round face bore no trace of much-needed makeup. That face now registered a look of concern.
“Lady Em,” she began timidly, “you are frowning. Is anything wrong?”
Be careful, Lady Em warned herself. I don’t want her to know that I’m upset about Roger.
“Am I frowning?” she asked. “I can’t imagine why.”
Brenda’s face now registered a look of profound relief. “Oh, Lady Em,” she said, “I’m so happy that there is nothing disturbing you. I want you to enjoy every moment of this wonderful trip. Shall I phone and order tea?”
“That would be very pleasant, Brenda,” Lady Em agreed. “I will be most interested to attend Celia Kilbride’s lecture tomorrow. It’s amazing such a young woman is so knowledgeable about gems. And I think I will tell her about the curse associated with the Cleopatra necklace.”
“I don’t think you ever told me about that,” Brenda said.
Lady Em chuckled. “Cleopatra was taken prisoner by Caesar’s adopted son and heir, Octavian. She knew that he was planning to take her on his barge to Rome as his captive and had ordered that she wear the emerald necklace during the voyage. As she was about to commit suicide, Cleopatra sent for the necklace and put a curse on it. ‘Whoever takes this necklace to sea, will never live to reach the shore.’?”
“Oh, Lady Em,” Brenda sighed. “What a terrible story. Maybe you’d better just leave the necklace in the safe!”
“Not a chance,” Lady Em said crisply. “Now, let’s order the tea.”
4
Roger Pearson and his wife, Yvonne, were having afternoon tea in their suite on the concierge floor of the Queen Charlotte. With a hefty frame, thinning light brown hair and eyes that crinkled when he smiled, Roger was outgoing and gregarious, the kind of person who made everyone feel comfortable in his presence. He was the only one who dared to joke with Lady Em about politics. She was an ardent Republican; he was an equally passionate Democrat.
Now he and Yvonne looked at the list of activities for the next day. When they saw that Celia Kilbride was slated to speak at two-thirty the next afternoon, Yvonne raised her eyebrows. “Isn’t she the one who works at Carruthers Jewelers and is involved in that hedge fund fraud?” she asked.
“That Thorne crook is trying to drag her into it,” Roger said indifferently.
Yvonne frowned in thought. “I’ve heard that. When Lady Em brings any of her jewelry in to reset or repair, Celia Kilbride is the one she sees. Brenda told me that.”
Roger turned his head to glance at her. “Then Kilbride is a salesperson there?”
“She’s much more than that. I’ve read about her. She’s a top gemologist and goes around the world selecting precious stones for Carruthers. She lectures on ships like this one to interest people with big bucks to invest in pricey jewelry.”
“She sounds pretty smart,” Roger observed, then turned to the television.
Yvonne studied him. As usual when they were alone, Roger dropped his hail-fellow-well-met demeanor and virtually ignored her.
She went back to sipping her tea and reached for a dainty cucumber sandwich. Her thoughts switched to the outfit she would wear tonight, a new Escada cashmere jacket and slacks. The jacket was in a black-and-white pattern and the slacks were black. The leather patches on the elbows of the sleeves gave the outfit the sporty look which was the dress code this evening.