The Missing Diamond Brooch of Cabin 217

It all started with the golden hairpin.

It went missing on the day the mistress wanted it for the dinner party she had arranged for the master's friends in the Dining Saloon.

"It was right here," she irritably told me as she threw things pell-mell on the bed. "Are you sure you didn't see it, Eloise?"

"No Madam, I swear on my mother's grave," I replied, wringing my hands.

Mistress, who had always been of a nervous disposition was not dealing very well with the ship's journey. She said it made her feel ill. And it also made her prone to acting out, as she was at the moment. Ransacking the bedroom like a wild animal.

"Well, at least the diamond brooch is still here," she muttered mutinously as she pinned it to her dress lapel.

"Clean that up will you?" she nodded at the bed. "I'm going to be late."

+++

Next, it was one of her earrings.

"Really Eloise what has gotten into you?" the mistress raged. "Second time you have misplaced my jewelry. How could you be so careless?"

"Madam I haven't tidied your dresser today," I say, even as I am undressing the mistress's little one for bed. "I've only been looking after the little one."

The little one, lovingly called Miss Bea by her family, only two years old, was playing with a ribbon, that she had snatched from my hair even as I was undressing her. I would have told her off, but she was a sweet baby, I couldn't find it in my heart to give her a talking to.

"Well this can't keep happening Eloise, you have to find where things keep going. And keep her quiet will you?" the mistress threw at me as she fiercely concentrated on her embroidery. Miss Bea had started crying because she kept pointing to her mama even as her mama went on ignoring her.

I snatched up Miss Bea and cradled her, pushing her face in my neck to stifle her cries.

+++

Things may not have gone so sour if the brooch hadn't gone missing that very day.

The mistress and her husband had gotten into a fight.

The master had had a bad day, losing a large sum in a game of cards. He wanted the mistress to hand over her diamond brooch, to 'tide him over' until he was able to access a bank.

And the mistress was desperately pleading with the master to not make her do it. The brooch had been her mother's, and her grandmother's before that. She couldn't bear to part with it. Finally, the only thing that changed her mind was a resounding slap.

All this happened in the cabin's parlor room, while I was quietly playing with Miss Bea in the bedroom.

The mistress came storming into the bedroom crying. She dabbed at her face, trying hard to stem the flow from her tear-stained eyes. She ignored the two of us as she looked through the paraphernalia on her dresser. 

Something seemed wrong because she started looking through all of her dresser drawers in a wild frenzy. Then she stopped and sat down on the dressing stool, clutching her forehead.

"Are you all right madam?" I asked in concern.

"It's gone," she mumbled. "The brooch, it's gone. What am I to do now?"

"Surely it must still be here," I tried to assure her. "No one's been in the room except me and the little one."

"That is what worries me so," she mumbled even as she turned to look at me with accusing eyes. I felt myself go cold all over.

"Madam?"

"I'm afraid Eloise that a thief has been taking my things."

"A thief?" I asked stupefied.

"Yes, a thief. Someone who's been stealing my things. And there's only one person who could have possibly done it."

"You don't mean, me?" I fell back horrified.

"Yes I'm afraid I think it's you, Eloise," she said. "Much as I am loath to think so badly of you, I've had these suspicion for a while now. As you said yourself, the only person who's been in and out of this room apart from me has been you."

"But Madam - why would I even do that?" I implored.

"That's what I keep asking myself," she glared at me. "And I for one have no answer why a young respectable girl would get herself into a situation like this."

"Let me search for you Madam, I'm sure I can find it," I get up to my feet ready to start searching.

"Enough," the mistress held up her hand. "I will have to tell the master about this."

I felt a tugging at my skirts and I looked down at Miss Bea who wanted to be held. I swept her up and held her close to my thundering heart as if she were a shield for what was to come.

+++

I sat crying in the Servant's Saloon, surrounded by a few older servants who were alternately consoling me and recounting their own tales of when and how their master or mistress had done them wrong.

"Those bastards," a butler kept repeating, gnawing at his mustache.

"It's always the same," someone spoke. "Blame the servants. Whether it's bad weather or a broken teacup."

"I don't know what to do with myself," I sobbed. "Don't have enough money to go back nor to stay."

"Don't you worry dear," an old woman with a kindly face told me. "Things always work themselves out. You just wait and see."

+++

A few days later I was called back to face my mistress in her room.

I was worried I was going to be charged with something more terrible. But I was wrong and surprised.

The master was out, and it was only my mistress and Miss Bea in the parlor. The little one gave a small yell of recognition and rose to run in my direction. She was stopped and severely reprimanded for it. The little one sat down again, blubbering with sorrow still pointing in my direction and looking at her mother with pleading eyes.

"Now Eloise, I hate to be ever called a bad mistress," the lady began with cool composure and an unsmiling face.

"But it would be remiss of me not to tell you that we found out who the real culprit in our house was."

"Oh," that was all I could manage.

"Yes, you should know that Miss Bea here has been stealing things from her own mother. We found out when a necklace of mine went missing and was soon found in her toy box along with everything else."

"I do not blame you for the crime Eloise you should know that," the mistress assured me with a cool earnestness. "And rest assured, Miss Bea has also got her just desserts. She will not be stealing anything anytime soon."

I looked over at the little one and noticed her eyes and face looked puffy from prolonged crying.

"She's just a child Madam," I implored the lady. " She just wants your attention."

"Oh dear, I was afraid of this," the lady did look mildly remorseful.

"I beg your pardon, Madam. Afraid of what?"

"While I do not think you are a thief anymore, I was afraid about where and how Miss Bea got her ideas from. Have you never scolded her for taking things that are not her own?"

"I didn't think it was my place Madam," I reply frankly.

"Well you should have," the lady told me forcefully. "Would you rather have me known as a mother of a thief? Is that what you want?"

"Of course, not Madam," I'm wringing my hands again.

"Well unfortunately that makes up my mind. I might have considered taking you back into my employ, but I would not have Miss Bea fraternizing with you anymore. God knows what else might go wrong with you two together."

I leave, my future still floating like an iceberg.

+++

I woke up with a start. Someone had been shaking me violently.

"Get up will you?" the steward looked down at me, stress and worry etched into his face. "We've got to get to the lifeboat!"

"The lifeboats? What for?" I asked, my mind stupefied with sleep.

But the man was gone. The other servants around me, still sleepy, looked non the wiser.

We pulled on the life jackets which were stowed under our beds and made our way upstairs. The deck was a queer spectacle. During daytime, it was abuzz with activity. Whereas right now, under the blazing deck lights, it was full of large silent crowds.

"Ladies and children first," a steward near us called loudly. "Anyone for lifeboat D please?"

The crowd murmured but hung back, their faces full of uncertainty and distrust.

"Please sir, why do we have to get into the lifeboats?" I ask one of the first-class passengers standing next to me. He gives a start and stares at me like he's never seen a servant before. Or maybe a talkative one.

"Nothing serious," he said pompously. "I think we've hit an iceberg. They're telling us to get off just in case."

"Just in case of what?" I ask.

But before he could answer we were rudely jostled. Someone, whilst yelling, "Out of the way there!" was making his way carrying bags of bread and biscuits and flinging them into Boat D. 

I recognized him as the chief baker, who, whenever I saw him in the Servant's Saloon was normally morose and silent. Whereas now he was thriving with activity.

"Right-o," he said after having flung the bags overboard. Then he looked around at the rest of us, who were standing and watching him silently.

"Well," he asked impatiently. "The ship's sinking! What are we waiting for?"

A small fire of whispers spread across the crowd surrounding him. The ship was sinking?

"I think my dear man, you're worrying the ladies without reason," the pompous man next to me informed the baker. "The ship is not sinking. At least not yet."

The baker ignored him.

"Well if no one's going to do it themselves…here, Michael, Jonah, help these ladies get into the lifeboat will you two?"

Saying so, he grabbed a servant near him and unceremoniously chucked her into the waiting boat. There were cries of fear and outrage on the deck, even as more ladies were chucked by the baker's comrades.

"Here! Stop that," the first-class passenger next to me was apoplectic. "What do you think you're doing?"

Beyond him, I happen to catch sight of my mistress and Miss Bea. I'm about to make my way over to them when I feel a hard hand come down on my should.

"You're going the wrong way there," it was the baker. He was about to catch me under my knees but I stop him short.

"I have to get the child!"

And I look back at my mistress and the little one who are both now staring at the pair of us. I hold out my arms to Miss Bea, as does she but the mistress sharply checks Miss Bea's actions and vehemently shakes her head at me.

"Well then, off you go," the bakers huffs at me.

In a matter of minutes, I'm in the lifeboat, my skirts astray, boots in the air.

As I right myself, another lady lands next to me. Then the next.

Even as the rest of us are coming to terms with what was happening, we hear a deep resounding crack come from the bowels of the boat. The crowd on the deck finally start to panic. A few of them willingly jump into the lifeboat, even a couple of men.

And finally, we are on our way into the uncertain gloomy darkness, away from the warm comforting lights of the deck.