With A Love That Was More Than Love
Chapter One
"And we loved with a love that was more than love
I and my Annabelle Lee..."
-Edgar Allan Poe
Growing up in the upper class meant always being showered with gifts. Even from people you don't know. People you have never even met. That's how I wound up on the luxurious Titanic. It was a gift, from none other than Bruce Ismay, a close family friend. I can't tell you much about Mr. Ismay's position in the White Star Line Company, but I do know that he had a great deal to do with the production of the Titanic.
See, my birthdays usually come and go without much excitement to speak of. Jewels and gowns and such were common present. From my family, friends of family, even business associates. This birthday, however, was already proving to be very, very different.
I was to make the maiden voyage of the Titanic to New York, catch my train to Mississippi, and have my seventeenth birthday party the next day. Seventeen is a big age for me. My parents made it clear that I was to be engaged by the end of the year.
I have no issues with love. I'm excited to see who my parents have in line. I like to think I love almost everything, and almost everybody. I think life is too short to spend it being hateful and full of dismay. My father thinks I have an old soul. My mother thinks I think too much. We all have different opinions on the matter.
My mother is the epitome of first class. Prim, proper, stone-faced, and passive. My father is quite the opposite. Maybe it's something to do with being born into wealth, instead of having to work for it. My mother was a poor servent girl before she caught my father's eye. She worked hard for her wealth, and she will never let go. I suppose since my father never had to do without, he was never extremely scared of losing it.
My father inherited his millions young. At the age of eighteen, specifically. He didn't much know what to do with all of it, I imagine. He was taught how to run the family business, of course, knowledge he would be passing down to my brother in a few years, but he never really needed to use it. He let his father's right-hand men handle all of the dirty work for a few years while he had his fun. He settled down, eventually, after he met my mother and they had me. He was never careless with the money, however. His father taught him well the ways of being a businessman. It has just always seemed to me that he's not quite as uptight as my mother.
I suppose that's where I get my carefree-ness from. I love all things high society, and I would never want anything but this. But there's no need to be quite so serious as some people are about it. We're secure, to say the least. If these people are half as rich as they make themselves out to be, they should feel the same.
Mother is always warning me to tone down my personality. Men don't like personality, they like blank canvases that they can mould to their liking. I think she's wrong though. Surely there are some men that don't feel that way. Surely there is a man out there who will love me for who I am.
And anyways, that's all irrelevant for right now. My worries and cares are to be left behind when I board the Titanic. Which is happening right now. Jeffrey, my helper, is getting everything sorted with the baggage. All that's left to do is wait for Mr. Ismay to come escort me aboard.
The ship is grand to extremes I've never seen before, and I can only imagine the sheer luxury of the inside of it. The ship of dreams, supposedly. We're a bit early in our arrival, to miss the crowd, but I'm sure there will be thousands of people to come, some boarding and some bidding their loved ones adieu.
"Miss Emerson," I turned, smiling when I saw Bruce Ismay, "what a sight for sore eyes, you are!"
"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Ismay. What a beautiful ship you have!" I took the arm that was extended to me.
"Yes, well, that's largely due to our master ship builder, Thomas Andrews. You'll be meeting him later. For now, though, let's get you settled in." I nodded and we set off, walking the elevated plank to the first class entrance.
The inside of the ship was beautiful, as was expected. My room was every bit as glamorous as I had hoped, cherry wood with gold accents seemed to be the theme. A private promenade was my favorite feature so far. The smell of the ocean air calmed my nerves.
After Mr. Ismay escorted me to my room, with a promise to be back to see me to lunch, I started directing the maids on where to put my stuff.
After lunch and the Cherbourg passengers boarded, we went to dinner. That's where I finally got to meet Thomas Andrews. I was quite dissapointed that we were at dinner, as that was the men's talk time, and the ladies just kept to themselves, and I have so many questions. Well...we were supposed to Molly Brown didn't quite get the memo, but I would rather not have my parents get wind that I was anything but the epitome of a first class lady. Especially in front of Mr. Andrews and Mr. Ismay. My mood brightened a bit when he offered to show me around the ship tomorrow. I would ask all of my questions then.
Nonetheless, Mr. Andrews was a charming personality, and I found myself paying hardly any attention at all to anyone else. He was humble, stating that the idea of Titanic was all Ismay's when Ismay mentioned that Mr. Andrews designed the ship from the keel plates up. The largest manmade moving object in history...they must be proud.