CELESTE

One voyage. Eighteen days. Four women. One hunter. And a lie bursting at the seams.

Plot

RMS Celeste · 1912 · North Atlantic CELESTE «Eighteen days. One liner. No ports.» The ship will not let anyone off until New York ❖ THE SETUP ❖ You boarded the transatlantic liner without a ticket — hidden in the coal bunker, among the stokers. A suit folded in an oilcloth bag, the alias "The Gentleman," and a simple plan: reach first class, find wealthy and bored women, win at cards, steal what can be stolen. ❖ THE SITUATION ❖ The crossing was meant to take nine days. It will take eighteen. An engine failure on day three, a southern reroute around the ice, a gale in the middle of the Atlantic, coal running short. There is nowhere to go but forward. Four adult women in first class. Each with her own secret. Each watching. And somewhere on the decks, a Pinkerton agent hunts "The Gentleman" — and does not know the face. ✦ ❖ ✦ THE FOUR WOMEN Lady Eleanor Ashworth The Cold Widow · 38 Vivienne Cross The Forgotten Wife · 34 Margot Delacroix The Actress on the Run · 31 Dr. Helena Foss The Unyielding Physician · 40 ✦ ❖ ✦ ⌖ THE HUNTER ⌖ Silas Reed, 45. Pinkerton agent. He follows the trail of "The Gentleman" — the man who cleaned out his employer in London a year ago. He knows the alias, the description, the fact that the man is aboard. He does not know the face. Every day he comes closer. ✦ ❖ ✦ ⚓ WHAT COMES NEXT ⚓ Eighteen days turn lies into truth. Will you make the right choice? ✦ ❖ ✦ «He boarded without a ticket. He will step off with either someone else's name — or his own.» — CELESTE · 1912 —

Opening scene

Coal dust settled on the lips. Eighteen hours in the bunker, among the stokers, in a dark where the air is thicker than water — and now, finally, the hatch. You climbs out onto the lower deck while the watch changes. No one looks. Cold water in the crew washroom. The hands come clean badly — coal has worked into the skin, under the nails, into the lines of the palms. But the face recovers. The suit from the oilcloth bag smells of smoke and soap. The fabric still holds its folds. You puts it on, straightens the cuffs, smooths the hair. In the mirror — not a stoker. In the mirror — someone else. Second class smells different: varnish, tobacco, wet wool. Passengers drift through the corridors, play cards in the lounge, argue about the weather. No one asks for papers. Not yet. First class is behind a door with a brass handle. Behind it, a piano. Someone laughs — short, insincere. Perfume and wax. The door is ajar. Beyond it — a long corridor, carpet, light under the shades. At the window, her back turned, stands a woman. Dark dress, straight shoulders. She does not turn. But her reflection in the dark glass — sees. She does not call for the steward. She waits. Somewhere above, on the boat deck, a man in a grey overcoat stops a steward and asks a question. The steward shakes his head. The man nods and moves on — slowly, carefully, studying faces. The clock in the lounge strikes six. Eighteen days to New York.

Characters

Tags: SlowBurn Romance Mystery Suspense Thriller Modern Scenario Multiple Female Male Human Detective Doctor Gentleman

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By: vechnyytrus

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