"Well, it certainly is astounding, don't you think, Mama?"
Sybil was staring at the enormous ship with eyes full of wonder. Her light blue dress was fluttering lightly in the morning breeze, her straw hat with its sky-blue ribbon making a bright contrast with her black hair. She was holding the hat down and squinting, as pretty and young as a rose blossom. The Dowager Countess, right behind her in a purple dress with matching hat, was leaning over her cane and mumbling something about how cozy Dower House was, and why, why, for all the Saints and the Martyrs in Heaven, did she have to go on a sea trip at her age?
Cora smiled brightly at Sybil, while behind her Anna and that new valet Papa seemed so fond of - Mr Bates - took care of the luggage. "It really is. Isn't it, Mary?"
"It doesn't seem so much bigger than the other one – what was its name, Mama?, the one that brought us to America the last time we went to see Granny and uncle Harold" Mary was descending from the Daimler-Benz, helped by a valet. She was stunning as usual, in a striped outfit and an enormous feathered hat. She flaunted her usual unenthusiastic expression.
"I think it was the Baltic, dear."
Mary looked up at the ship, blinking in the sun like her younger sister, but with much more of a regal bearing.
Both of the Crawley girls looked like works of art, standing one next to the other in almost identical pose - but if Sybil was a Renoir – fresh and colorful and slightly dreamy, Mary was a Greek bas-relief: all chiseled nose and fierce profile, a marble Artemis statue. Too bad, thought Edith, the closest to a work of art I can aspire to is a portrait of Napoleon Bonaparte.
"Oh, Mary, why do you have to be that blasé about everything?" Matthew was right behind Mary, smiling at her deadpan attitude.
"Mary is really hard to impress. Keep that in mind, if you plan to marry her."
"Edith!" said everyone in unison. And everyone – her father, Mama, her sisters – looked at her with the mixture of amusement and exasperation that was usually reserved to her… although Mary was more on the exasperated side, while Matthew was the one looking more amused. The Dowager shook her head and snorted in a way that could indicate either dismay or approval – Edith was never really able to understand what her grandma was thinking.
"Thank you, Edith, I'll remember that!" Matthew laughed.
Edith smiled briefly at him – cousin Matthew was always kind to her - then turned her head, tight-lipped. She was feeling clumsy in her orange suit, and her hairdo was too tight. No one ever took her seriously, no one ever noticed her, and no wonder. While her sisters looked beautiful, well-rested and at ease, she had a growing headache, and all sorts of people kept bumping into her in a shower of sorry, m'lady.
No steerage passenger - with their coarse wool and tweeds and shabby hats - ever bumped into Mary. It looked as if she was surrounded by a halo of upper class elegance.
The only thing everyone seemed to care – even complete strangers, as if there was some secret universal agreement on it - about was Mary's pleasure, Mary's position, Mary's needs.
Everything, every time, was always about Mary, Mary, Mary.
That journey to New York, too, was all about her. Obviously.
Officially, they were going to America to see Granny: but the true reason they were boarding the most luxurious ship ever built was the difficult situation between Mary and her fiancé. Mama hoped that a trip to the New World – with all the modernity, and the much more relaxed manners of the American high society - would have smoothed things out. Not to mention she wished Granny Martha could put some American sense into Mary's hot little head.
Mary, Mary, Mary all around. Mary, who thought Matthew was not gentleman enough for her, who said he "couldn't even manage a knife properly". Mary, the Queen of the Castle. Mary, the cold-hearted minx, Mary the spoiled child.
Here we go again, Edith thought, bitterly, as she stared at the crowd pressing all around them. People embraced in tearful farewells, or waved handkerchiefs to friends and relatives on the decks above.
Another sea travel, with Mary shining in all of her charm in the First Class dining saloon, Sybil bewitching the ship crew with her freshness and her beauty… and her, the middle sister, the unimpressive, undistinguished Edith – feeling seasick in her bedroom for half the time, with a wet cloth over her forehead.
Anna would have probably brought her some food over a tray every now and then, and she would have tried to cheer her up – but the trouble is, the subject of Anna's conversation was inevitably going to include Mary.
"We'd better hurry, my dear girls" Papa indicated the way toward the first class gangway.
As she followed her parents and her sisters on the elevated boarding bridge, as she reached the entrance
to the D Deck doors, just behind Mary's striped back (with the fluffy, showy feathers on the gigantic hat preventing her from seeing anything), Edith almost wished she could throw her older sister off board into the icy Atlantic during the crossing.
Then maybe – maybe – someone would have finally paid attention to her instead.