Hello readers, loyal or otherwise! This is another STEAMM fiction, based on the event that set the gears of Downton turning in the very first season. The year is 1912, and our three lovely couples are among many looking for adventure on board the RMS Titanic. Everyone is already married, but no one has children yet. The Bransons live in Dublin, the Crawleys live in London, and the Strallans live in the Yorkshire countryside; they have all secured tickets onto the biggest steam liner ever seen. The story will, needless to say, start at the Titanic's departure from Southampton and follow the events of the disaster.

As a major history geek, I am aiming to make my portrayal of the Titanic as accurate as possible; meaning the setting and the sequence of events are meant to be as if it were on that fateful voyage. I've done quite a bit of reading about the ship, particularly about what she was like in the days before she sank. Of course, there will be inexactness, either for purposes of storytelling or an inability to find credible sources, but for the most part I am hoping to paint as real a picture as I can. (if any of you want the sources from my research, I will be happy to send you some). Of course, inspiration also came from the James Cameron version of Titanic, which holds a rather special place in my heart particularly because it was released the same year I was born.

And as an advance apology: I am so, so sorry if I make you cry. I really am – I don't want to make you cry so hard your soul rips in two. Please don't hate me if that happens.


The Sea Within Their Souls

But let there be spaces in your togetherness and let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another but make not a bond of love: let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.

Khalil Gibran

Chapter 1 – The Ship of Dreams

April 10 – Southampton Dock

"I think I can see it," Edith breathed, craning her head to get a better look through the square car window.

"Can you?" Anthony squinted through the windshield, pretending to strain his eyes. "You can't mean that sorry little dinghy bobbing up and down next to the pier?"

"Oh, stop," Edith laughed. "You can see it perfectly." She pointed. "There, in front of us."

Anthony squinted again, smiling widely. "Aha! There it is. I couldn't see with all of the people blocking my view."

Edith shook her head, grinning as well. "Even if all of England were standing here today you'd be able to see it – it's massive!"

"Of course it is, darling. That's why they named her the Titanic. The biggest ship in the world," Anthony said proudly, as if he were the architect. "Built to be indestructible."

"I've heard it called 'unsinkable,'" Edith said, "although I'll never understand how a vessel made of iron and steel won't sink like a rock to the bottom of the ocean."

Anthony chuckled. "The finest engineers and builders living today designed her. I assure you it will float like a feather on the water."

The port at Southampton was teeming with voyagers and well-wishers, the rich and poor clustered together amongst officers shouting at the top of their lungs. There were elderly couples commencing one last adventure, young people beginning a new life, holiday-goers and labourers searching for new opportunities. Children sat on the shoulders of their fathers, marvelling at the sheer size of the ship before them. Wealthy men and women, American and English alike, sauntered up the gangplank to the higher decks, and the throng lined up for steerage shuffled about for papers and attempted to look as clean as possible. Pulleys were lifting an automobile high into the air and trucks laden with luggage honked noisily. And all who were already aboard the great steam liner grinned and waved their handkerchiefs, waiting eagerly to launch into a momentous journey.

The Strallans' chauffeur pounded on the horn, jerking forward just enough to reach the drop-off point. Anthony's valet immediately alighted from the passenger seat and began instructing a flustered-looking officer on the luggage.

"The cases from this car and that one are going to parlour suite B53," he rattled off.

"Sir, the luggage must be checked through the main terminal over that way—"

The chauffeur opened the door and helped Edith out. Standing on the dock, looking up at the colossal ship, she felt her heart jump at the sight. A vessel both of exorbitant luxury and modern engineering prowess, about to set off on her maiden voyage – truly, how could anyone think of missing it?

Anthony stepped out of the car, looking around at the excited crowd swarming in front of them, then up at the ship again. "Amazing, isn't it?"

"Truly," Edith agreed. To her, though, it was more than simply amazing. Wonders never ceased in the modern world, and this was one that no one could forget. She had only just seen it for the first time, but she was quick to conclude that it put every other steamer to shame, and it set impossible standards for the ones yet to be built.

She looked around, trying to see above the many heads and hats. "I can't see Mary's car. Do you think they're already on the ship?"

From behind sounded another irritated car horn, and Edith and Anthony turned to see the Crawleys' car and another taxi approaching the drop-off point.

"Speak of the devil," Anthony said, barely loud enough to be heard over the din of the crowd.

For the first time in her life Edith was excited to see her older sister – perhaps a few months apart was enough to cool the stormy relation between them. As soon as Mary stepped out of the automobile she shared a warm but polite embrace with Edith.

"Edith, dear," she greeted, kissing her sister lightly on the cheek.

"It's so lovely to see you," Edith replied.

Matthew climbed out of the car, shaking hands with Anthony before tipping his hat to Edith. "How thrilling to reunite the Crawley sisters on such a historic occasion."

"We're not all accounted for yet," Mary reminded him. "Sybil will join us when the ship calls on Queenstown tomorrow, remember?"

"I hope Titanic will be big enough for all three of you," Matthew quipped.

Mary ignored her husband's jest and looked up at the gigantic steam liner with a critical eye. "It doesn't look any different from other ships," she decided. "It's big, of course, but not by much."

She had seen her fair share of steam liners before, but primarily in grainy newspaper photographs that made small ships seem large and the other way around. Aside from the number of funnels, there were few indications of difference in their architectures, especially when the shipping companies were the same.

"Mary, I'm certain your opinion will change once we get inside," Matthew said. "The first-class facilities are as excellent as a luxury hotel, I'm told. Unprecedented magnificence, or so the White Star Line says."

"I'll be the judge of that," Mary said, but without much seriousness. In truth, Titanic did impress her, more so than she believed it would. A vessel of such sheer size was both daunting and riveting to her, and she was just as eager as anyone to board and explore, to bask in the wonders of what Titanic had to offer. How she would have loathed to miss such a landmark journey, the maiden voyage of the biggest man-made moving object ever built! Even if she had to suffer it with her younger sisters ...

"Anna, make sure the cases are sent to the right suite. I'm leaving my coat with you," Mary said to her lady's maid.

"You're in B55, correct?" Edith asked. "You'll be right next to us."

Mary tried not to roll her eyes. "How convenient."

"Just like old times," Edith bantered.

"I'm sure it won't be as unpleasant as you imagine it to be," Anthony said. "The first-class accommodation are quite spacious. You'll quickly forget the other one is there."

"It should be alright," Edith said, "as long as Mary and Matthew keep as quiet as they can while the rest of us are asleep."

Matthew had to suppress a smirk. Mary glared at Edith with a sour purse of her lips.

"If I recall, you were the one who didn't get a wink of sleep on her wedding night," she said under her breath.

Somewhere, a whistle blew shrilly. Matthew opened his pocket-watch and glanced quickly at it. "We ought to get on board soon. It's fifteen minutes to noon."

"Right then," Mary said, leading the way to the gangplank. "Come along."

"Is London not exciting enough for her that she wants to leave as quickly as possible?" Anthony asked Matthew.

Matthew lowered his voice so Mary would not risk hearing him. "She claims to know London like the back of her hand. She's an intrepid soul; she wants to see the world, to feel like an important part of history."

"I can understand that longing," Anthony said.

All four moved down the pier, those in the way sidestepping to allow them an unobstructed path. The lower classes gawked at the finery the ladies wore, their travelling clothes more expensive than the houses most lived in. The lady's maids and valets followed with the smaller pieces of luggage under arm. They made their way up the gangplank, rising high above the murky blue water, backs to the crowd being left behind. The steward was prompt to accept their boarding passes and to welcome them to Titanic, wishing each person in turn a pleasant journey. The servants were ushered towards the staterooms to ready them for their paying inhabitants.

The three couples were then admitted into a grand scene. They had only just boarded Titanic, and already each person was struck by the craftsmanship and design of the reception room. Everything in sight was pristine and fitting for their class: potted palms sitting on a thick carpet, candelabras fitted with electric light, the smell of new paint and fresh flowers. The large staircase they came to was decorated with gilded balustrades and the walls panels were made of oak. It curved smoothly up and around the decks, winding about in wood, iron and bronze.

"Magnificent," Anthony sighed. "If the rest of the rooms are as beautiful as this, I should wonder if I've gone to heaven."

"I'm starting to doubt if heaven is as extravagant as this," Matthew added.

There were not so many passengers in the reception room now: the ones who had arrived earlier had moved out to the promenade as the crew prepared to put to sea. "Let's find the way to the first-class deck," Edith suggested. "It won't be worth our money if we stay inside for the launch."

An attendant directed them to one of the electric lifts, which took them up to one of the higher decks. They turned out to the first-class promenade, which was already lined with large hats and moustachioed men, waving handkerchiefs to and fro, smiling like royalty. The crew was bustling about, already waiting upon the merry travellers. A high-pitched whistle blew again; some of the older ladies looking about frantically, but the men laughed and reassured them that nothing was going to go wrong.

The Crawleys and Strallans found space at the rail to look out over the dock. The onlookers still waved vigorously and cheered, and flowers of varying colours were being tossed into the water. Directly below, third-class passengers were being hurried through the health inspection and rushed up the gangplank, some dragging young children along. Most were carrying their luggage on their backs in the form of heavy cardboard trunks.

"Look at them all, on the way to a new life," Edith said. "I hope their cabins are not too uncomfortable, or they might regret the journey."

"I hear they are unusually large for third-class staterooms," Matthew said. "Not too many to a room, though. And each cabin has running water and electric lights."

Mary laughed. "Fancy that! Mama and Papa don't even have electric lights installed in their kitchens."

"Which just goes to show how splendid Titanic is," Matthew said.

On one side of the promenade, a group of musicians played a rousing tune, but they could hardly be heard over the clamour of hundreds of passengers, crowding at the railing to wave a final farewell to Southampton. Seagulls cawed and circled close to the edge. A deafening blow of the ship's horn shook the entire vessel, and Titanic began to come to life. The crowds shouted and cried even louder as the whistles blew in quick succession, the mooring ropes binding her to the pier were cast away, and the smaller tugboats guiding the colossal steam liner away from the docks advanced forward.

Smoothly, Titanic slowly manoeuvred away from her berth, steaming forward to the mouth of Southampton harbour. The Crawleys and Strallans, along with the rest of the passengers, waved blissfully to their final sight of England, calling out words of cheer that went unheard. The dock became smaller, those left behind less definite, but there was hardly any sadness at the departure; the journey on the ship of wonders had commenced. Mary's heart felt close to bursting with the pure exhilaration of finally setting off.

They were on their way at last.

Everyone watched as Titanic surged gently forward, passing by the moored ships at the docks, all dwarfed by her. The propellors began turning, churning up the seabed below and smoke billowed out from the funnels above. The water gushed away from the sides, some stray flowers still floating on the foam. A few of the passengers moved away from the railing to prepare for luncheon, but the Crawleys and Strallans remained standing at the edge, looking down at the parting waves and banners waving from the mainland. The two flags, one of Great Britain and the other of America, were raised and flapped fervently in the wind.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, there came sounds like gunshots, and those who heard them started. Some of the officers were shouting commands, but most of the attendants on duty were attempting to once again assure the passengers everything was under control.

"What happened?" Edith asked. "Did something on the ship snap?"

Many observers looked about, and just as they were figuring out what was going on, the attendants started to lead people away from the railing and back inside. No one was saying for certain what was happening, and they were persuading the ladies and gentlemen with more delicate hearts that everything would be in order soon.

"We should go back to the suite and prepare for luncheon," Mary said, as if nothing was amiss.

Although more inclined to see what the matter was, rather than sit down for an uneventful meal, the others followed her back inside. While they were walking down the stairs and to the corridor leading to their staterooms, all of them noticed the ship's strange movements, though they all ascribed that to her moving out of the harbour.

In the adjoining parlour suites, the servants were already unpacking the dozens of suitcases both couples had brought onto the ship (Mary herself had quite a few, including some empty ones for the clothes she planned to purchase in New York). The Crawleys and Strallans separated briefly to go into their respective rooms, agreeing to meet in ten minutes for luncheon.

The first few rooms they had entered had been beautiful, and the parlour suites were equally matched in splendour. Ornamented fireplaces and horsehair chairs in the sitting rooms, lavish beds draped in velvet, showers in the very forward-looking bathrooms. Baskets of fresh roses and carnations sat on the chairs and sofas. Both suites opened out to a single private promenade with wicker lounge chairs and potted ferns. The rooms were opulent even to Mary and Edith, who had grown up in wealth, but on Titanic the provisions were modern and elegant, a far cry from the traditional style they were attuned to.

"My my, this is quite nice," Mary said, circling and admiring the bedroom.

"Mary, you do not have to be frugal around me," Matthew said. "I know you are as excited as a child at Christmas, to be on the Titanic."

Mary gave him a furtive glance as she removed her coat and leather gloves. "Of course I am excited. Only if I get too enlivened I'll collapse for want of breath, thanks to this wretched corset." She pressed her hand to her side, emphasizing how narrow it was around her. It was not the real reason behind her placidity, but it was a good enough excuse – she grumbled about it enough for even Matthew to understand her abhorrence of the thing.

"You'll need help to remove it later, won't you?" Matthew asked flirtatiously.

Mary knew well how to play this game. "Naturally," she answered. "And I don't care what Edith says, we can make as much noise as we want."

"There are hundreds of people on this ship, darling," reminded Matthew. "It would not be very nice of us to disturb them late at night."

"Then they shall all know how much we love each other by the time the ship docks in America," Mary said.

She would have loved very much to miss luncheon just to have more time alone with Matthew, but Edith came into their suite at that instant to hurry them along. Evidently, the time when they would not be pushed around had not yet arrived.

Lunch took place in the first-class dining saloon, an expansive room with small tables and a peculiarly English mood. A string quintet, situated on a raised platform, played an airy waltz. Sitting in oak chairs underneath a white ceiling, encircled by the elite of both American and English society, the Crawleys and Strallans dined together, in absolute awe of their surroundings, not to mention the well-prepared fare.

"It still seems so unreal to me," Edith said. "To finally be here after weeks of waiting."

"Oh Edith, you're much too sentimental for these sorts of things," Mary remarked.

Edith looked pointedly at Mary. "Well, why shouldn't I be? The very first transatlantic crossing on the largest steam liner every built, and all of us lucky to be part of it."

"It will certainly be something to brag about," Anthony added.

"But we are not the only lucky ones on this ship," Matthew put in. "When you consider the passengers below decks, so many of them must have given up so much to just to be guaranteed safe passing to a new life."

"You sound quite a bit like Tom," Mary observed.

"If that was meant to be an insult, I won't take it that way," Matthew said.

"Not an insult," Mary said, "but it was not a compliment neither."

Anthony took a sip of his iced water. "When will he and Sybil embark?" he asked, hoping to redirect the subject of conversation to something less pejorative.

"We'll reach Cherbourg in the evening, and before tomorrow afternoon we should be in Queenstown," Matthew said.

"Will we be able to see them if they're in second-class?" Edith wondered aloud.

"I should think so, if only for a little while," Matthew said. "We can invite them to eat dinner with us one night."

"That'll be a sight for sure," Mary scoffed, "to see Tom amongst our sort of people. I wonder how he'll behave."

"Like a gentleman," Matthew said resolutely. "You don't have much faith in the poor man. He may be a radical advocate for the downtrodden, but he's no torch-wielding revolutionary, I assure you."

"Besides, Sybil will be there to help him out," Edith said. "She hasn't completely lost her touch with the upper-class."

"I don't know," Mary said skeptically. "It's been a while."

Anthony was looking curiously at a man with a pencil behind his ear and a roll of paper tucked under an arm. "I say, I believe that's the architect himself, Mr Thomas Andrews. The head of the design department of Harland and Wolff's."

"Really?" Edith turned to get a better look at the man.

He was walking quickly through the dining saloon, head swivelling about on neck to peer at the elements of the room, stopping here and there to shake hands with a few admiring passengers. Even with his ship sailing, he seemed so animated in his inspection that he looked still in the midst of preparations. As he had done so with other guests, he approached the table where the Crawleys and Strallans sat, smiling jovially as he extended his hand.

"Excuse me for interrupting your luncheon. Allow me to personally welcome you to Titanic. I am Thomas Andrews."

Mary matched his amiable smile. "Delighted. And may I say that you have created a most extraordinary ship. We were all just saying how magnificent she is. There won't be another like Titanic for years to come."

Edith coughed into her water glass. Leave it to Mary to put on a show.

Mr Andrews chuckled bashfully. "I am flattered madam, but I am not the one who envisioned her. The idea was Mr J. Ismay's. It is thanks to him that this grand, luxurious steamer is a reality at all."

"But you brought that idea to life," Matthew chimed in. "A conception is all very well on its own, but to work and develop it into reality is just as, if not more, commendable."

"Why, thank you sir," Mr Andrews said, blushing slightly. His eyes brightened. "I will be walking about the ship today, so if there are any facilities you would like to learn more about, I am perfectly happy to enlighten you."

"Perhaps now you could enlighten us on the incident earlier?" Edith asked. "Just after leaving the berth we heard was sounded like cannon-fire. Was it something on the ship?"

Mr Andrews laughed nervously. "No, no. Everything is perfectly fine. We just had a near-incident with the New York. As it happened, the suction from our propellors started to pull her away from her moorings when we passed by. The ropes snapped, which was the 'cannon-fire' you heard."

"Heavens," Mary gasped.

"It was a rather close call," told Mr Andrews. "The ships came very, very close to colliding, but our able Captain Smith saved the day. He simply gave Titanic a touch ahead on her port engine and spared her a rather nasty crash to her side. The New York is back where she belongs, and Titanic is moving once more."

Everybody looked surprised. "I didn't realize we had stopped," Mary said.

"We only just resumed our course a few moments ago," Mr Andrews confirmed. "We were delayed about half an hour, just to make sure everything was as it should be. But now you see the power of Titanic: in designing her we were aiming not for speed, but stability, to ensure as comfortable a journey as possible. This dining room is located between the second and third funnels, which is the smoothest ride on board."

"Wonderful. So we won't lose our excellent lunch," said Anthony.

Mr Andrews beamed again. "I am very glad you are enjoying yourself. Please, don't let me keep you any longer. I wish you all a pleasant time."

He scuttered off, jotting something down on his paper. The group resumed eating.

"I do hope we didn't accidentally enlarge his ego," Matthew said amusedly.

"He's not an American, so I suppose it's alright," Mary said.

The others laughed weakly. There were plenty of wealthy Americans around them in the dining saloon, although with the hum of chatter as well as the orchestra playing a soft waltz, there might not have been much chance of anyone overhearing.

"We ought to take Mr Andrews up on his offer to learn more about the ship," Anthony said. "She is quite complex inside – I fear I might be lost for the better part of the trip."

"It shouldn't be too difficult to know where first-class passengers are allowed," Edith said. "Certain parts of the ship are open only to us."

"The stairs down to steerage are barred, so you won't chance upon there, thank God," Mary said. "But I would very much like to explore what is offered here as well. After all, we only have a few days to enjoy the pleasures of Titanic until we reach New York."

"Right you are," Anthony said in agreement. "We must make the most of these days, make them some of the most special of our lifetimes."

Edith raised her glass, and everyone followed suit. "To a happy voyage."

"To a happy voyage," echoed the rest.

They clinked their glasses together, the crystal pinging like tiny bells of ice. Underneath their feet, Titanic pursued her course, serenely steaming across the English channel.


Titanic arrived in Cherbourg, France just after six that evening. The sun was already half hidden under the horizon, and a strong wind churned the waves below (though it was barely felt onboard). As their husbands took a look at the lounge and smoking room, Edith and Mary stood in the reception room, flanked by other first-class guests, surveying the new passengers coming aboard. They were much like those already on board: high society, made of money, decked in the latest fashions. The Americans were particularly easy to pick out – it appeared that lipstick was a recent but popular vogue for them. Mary, being an established figure in London society, recognized a number of faces, some disdainfully.

"I see Lady Rothes did make it after all. Oh, and look, there's J.J. Astor." Mary pointed to a somewhat aged man, accompanied by a girl a few years younger than Sybil. "His new wife of course, Madeleine. They've been travelling through Egypt and Europe for the past few months."

"His wife?" Edith repeated in disbelief. "She hardly looks old enough to be married."

"The States are still reeling from the scandal," Mary said in hushed tones. "You can see she's not well, obviously trying to conceal it with that absurd coat. But if I'm not mistaken, Mr Astor is one of the richest men in America, possibly even the wealthiest man on this ship."

"Goodness. Perhaps he should have spent some of his finances on common sense. Marrying someone who looks like she hasn't had her debut!" Edith said scornfully.

"It is a surprise that they're putting themselves back in public eye – though it may be that they were never out of it in the first place," Mary said. "That woman with the large hat behind them is Margaret Brown. Grandmama knows her. She's of new money, naturally."

"What from?" asked Edith.

"Gold or something. All thanks to her husband, of course. They've been separate for some time, though," Mary explained. "She is one of the few who hasn't forsaken the Astors."

Edith looked at Mary incredulously. "How do you so much about all these people? I know you haven't met them all, let alone exchange life stories with each other."

Mary smiled smugly. "Edith dear, if you didn't live in the middle of nowhere, you would know quite a few of them as well."

Edith was not affronted in the least, although Mary's jibe did irk her. "Anthony and I do not live under a rock. We're perfectly content to live in the country. Anthony enjoys the quiet life."

"Don't get me wrong, darling, I'm glad you and Anthony are happy," Mary said. "It's just that you seem so far away from the rest of the world you might not know a war was on until halfway through it."

"They deliver the paper promptly to Loxley each day, thank you," Edith retorted.

They continued to watch the influx of new arrivals until the last tender transporting them from the dock steered away from Titanic. A bugle sounded from somewhere on the deck to announce dinner, and some retreated to their cabins to freshen up before another fine meal. Dinner would be in a short while, but happily for them, they were not expected to change on this first night. Nevertheless, both Mary and Edith decided to retreat back to their suites to make an appropriate toilette.

"When did you last see Mama and Papa?" Edith asked Mary.

"Not since New Year's," Mary replied. "I suppose you see them often."

"Not so often as you think," Edith corrected. "Anthony and I saw them last for luncheon two weeks ago."

"They're looking well still?" Mary asked.

"Yes. They wish us all a good journey."

"Of course they do." Mary marched up the artisan-crafted stairs. "What about Granny – did she need smelling salts when she heard all about Titanic's modern facilities?"

Edith shook her head. "She didn't go that far, but … she has her suspicions, to be sure."

"Suspicions? Of what?"

"You know Granny. Anything that wasn't around for fifty years when she was born is too 'progressive' and 'dangerous.' She said, for all of the lavishness and splendour advertised about Titanic, there has to be something unstable that could spell trouble for the entire ship."

"Good God," Mary remarked. "Then again, she believes she'll be smothered by vapours if electric lights are installed in the dower house."

"But Granny does send her love as well. She wants us to send a telegram when we've arrived in New York," Edith went on.

"We'll send her a gift from there," Mary decided. "Preferably a very American one."

Edith grinned, imagining the look on Granny's face upon receiving such a present.

Since Mary and Matthew lived in London, and Sybil in Dublin with Tom, it was Edith who called on her parents and her grandmother from time to time to make sure they were not too lonely (or that was the reasoning). In that way, she still felt bound to her old life, even when she was growing used to managing her own small household. Sometimes, on bad days, she thought it rather selfish that Mary had decided to pack her things and live farther away, but could she be blamed? The Yorkshire country was not a singularly exciting place, and Edith more often than not wondered what it was like to have a day when she was exhausted, but from activity rather than from boredom.

Still, she had chosen that life, and she was content with Anthony at Loxley. That life suited them, even if it was nearly identical to her prior livelihood. Edith knew how to make her own fun, and she had her own small circle of friends that she could count on for company. Since announcing her passage on Titanic, she had been the envy of many women, and to be the one that people were jealous of rather than the contrary had given her great satisfaction.

She asked after a short pause, "Does it not bother you that you are so far away from home nowadays?"

Mary repressed the urge to roll her eyes at Edith. "My home is in London now. And I'm not as bothered as you might be. I love my life as it is. Frankly, I'm happier than I've ever been before."

After a beat of silence, she added, "I do miss the people at Downton, of course. And there are times when I do long for Yorkshire, but that's usually when the city smoulder gets too much for me. But I'm not homesick in the slightest."

"Should I assume that Matthew is just as happy as you are?" Edith asked.

"Do you even have to ask?" Mary said. "The city suits him better than the country – he was born in Manchester, after all. Neither of us was going to prefer Downton as a permanent home."

"I doubt any of us would have lived at Downton forever," Edith admitted. "Sybil would never remain and live like a proper society lady – especially after meeting Tom."

"We've all gone our separate paths," Mary said. "But we'll be together again very soon."

Edith smirked, thinking that she had caught Mary displaying some oft-hidden sisterly love. "You almost sound excited."

"Certainly I'm excited to see Sybil and Tom again," Mary said, "I'm always more sentimental than I'm supposed to let on, that's all."

"Aha! So the cold and callous Lady Mary reveals that she does have a heart," Edith exclaimed.

Mary narrowed her eyes. "If you choose to keep going with this, I won't sit next to you tonight as I intended to," she riposted.


Dinner was a more casual affair than the other nights were planned to be, but it was, after all, a more hectic day than would be usual. After a many-course meal and subsequent liqueurs and coffee, exhaustion quickly closed in around the first-class. Most retreated to their cabins or suites afterwards, weary from the excitement of the first day aboard Titanic. The stars were already glinting brightly tonight, the only light between the dark sea and the night sky. The water was calm and Titanic made her course across the Channel again smoothly, almost as if it was gliding through the air.

After the hustle and bustle of the day, after the constant hubbub of activity, Mary realized just how pleasant the silence inside the suite bedroom was. All she could hear was the gentle roll of the waves far below and Matthew's soft breathing next to her. Such quietude was striking to her, she who was used to a turbulent London life; she nevertheless felt perfectly at home, with her loving husband in bed next to her and her family nearly reunited.

And yet … something seemed ominous. Mary could not place why she had such an adverse impression. She only felt that, somehow, there was something about the journey to make her nervous. It was keeping her awake, blinking up at the ceiling of the dark suite, wondering just why she was having such ill thoughts.

Was it because of the incident with the other ship in Southampton that all but resulted in a collision? Her grandmother's obsolete views on modern technology? Surely the ship was strong enough to withstand most damages, and everything onboard was deemed safe for maritime voyages. So why was she lying awake, conjuring up ridiculous notions that the trip would not go as smoothly as the very ship skimming across the sea?

"Mary?" Matthew's voice was muffled against the pillow.

"What is it, darling?" Mary answered softly.

"I was going to ask you that." Matthew lifted his head. "What's wrong? Can you not sleep?"

Mary fingered the ribbon tied at the end of her single braid. "I'm just … thinking."

"About … ?"

"I'm not exactly sure."

Matthew gave a half-suppressed laugh.

"I know that it sounds silly," Mary said, "but to be honest – no, I probably am being rather silly."

"Tell me," Matthew said. His eyes conveyed concern.

Mary searched in her head for the right way to say what she wanted. It was harder to speak when it about what was happening in her mind.

"It's just that … for all this talk about perfection, I can't help but wonder that something might go awry. I don't know if it's big or small, but I feel it will happen."

She turned to look at Matthew. "You'll say I'm acting paranoid."

"Not paranoid," he said, "just wrong."

"I'm glad you're on my side for this," Mary said cynically.

"Listen to me," Matthew said with all seriousness. "What is the likelihood of anything bad happening? Moreover, what are the odds of any problem not being solved in the blink of an eye? Just this morning we avoided an accident with that other ship. This crew is experienced and the ship is perfectly sound."

"I know it is," Mary said. "I've heard it all so many times. And yet … I've still got this feeling of nervousness. I know shouldn't have it, and I don't want it." She rubbed her face. "Perhaps I'm simply overtired. My imagination is running wild, that's all."

"Mary …" Matthew said, his fingers brushing against her hand, "if you are worried about something, you mustn't hide it from me. But you must remember that the worst scenarios almost never come to pass. Don't trouble yourself by thinking otherwise. We're already on the ship; we must enjoy the journey while it lasts."

Mary looked over at her husband. She could not tell if her fears were completely assuaged, but just hearing him comfort her was enough to soothe her for now. Whatever would she do without him? She felt at ease now: in London, he was the last thing to see before falling asleep and the first thing upon waking up, and it would be the same on Titanic. No matter where they were, that was all that she needed to make her feel at home.

She moved closer to him, and he put his arm around her. She positioned her head comfortably against his shoulder, slender fingers intertwining around his like she would never let go. This was how she always wanted to be – close enough to him to feel his heart beat, which she always imagined to pulse in syncopation with her own.

"I was stupid to worry," Mary murmured. "It doesn't matter anymore. I feel quite safe in your arms now."

"We're safe when we're together," Matthew said. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "And if anything does happen, that's how we'll stay," he promised.

"Why should it be any other way?" Mary asked.

She let Matthew kiss her again, this time on her lips, and at once the chill on her skin disappeared. Her eyes closed languidly, letting her sense of touch convince her that he was still beside her. She lay her head into the crook of his neck, and soon her worries were forgotten.


*quietly sobbing*

Historical Notes:

1. The near-collision between the RMS Titanic and the SS City of New York did happen moments after Titanic left her berth. The suction effect caused by Titanic's propellers tore the hawsers from their moorings. Captain Edward Smith put the port propeller in reverse while a tugboat took ahold of the New York. According to reports, the two ships were four feet away from crashing into each other. It's something that many people forget occurred because it was omitted from the 1997 movie, and of course it was overshadowed by the real tragedy. Unfortunate to think about, it was the closest thing that Titanic ever got to something called New York.

2. Queenstown is the old name for Cóbh.

3. The Astors, Margaret Brown (the Unsinkable Molly Brown), the Countess of Rothes, and Thomas Andrews were all real people, if you recall from the 1997 film. J.J. Astor was the richest man on Titanic, and his young wife Madeleine was five-months pregnant at the time. Margaret Brown was likely never referred to as 'Molly' during her lifetime; she would have been called Maggie by friends.