Hello everyone! This is my first time venturing into the Titanic fic category, so don't go too hard on me. :D
Enjoy the story!
April 10, 1912
The entire DeWitt Bukater house was bustling with activity on this sun-drenched morning. My maid, Helene, and I were going about in my bedroom, making sure all of possessions were packed and ready to go.
"I believe everything is all packed away, Ms. Lorena," said Helene. She brought over my dark pink sun hat and carefully placed it on my head, so as to not disturb the bun of coiled brown hair, tilting it just the right way so it covered one side of my face.
"Thank you Helene," I replied, slipping on my white leather gloves. "Does everything look alright to you?" I asked, showing her my traveling outfit, consisting of a light grey jacket and matching skirt, with a white collared shirt and tie, off-white lace-up boots and my wide-brimmed pink hat. "I no longer have a mirror in this room."
She circled me, making sure the outfit looked perfect. "Yes, everything is in it's place." She slipped on her short cape, hat, and gloves. "Now we best get going, or we'll be late," she mused with excitement.
Helene and I descended the grand mahogany staircase and met everyone in the extremely large foyer. My aunt Ruth, her daughter and my cousin, Rose, her maid, Trudy, Rose's fiancé Cal Hockley, and his manservant Spicer Lovejoy were already waiting for me.
"I told you to be down here five minutes ago," said a very uptight Ruth.
"Yes Aunt Ruth," I replied. "I'm very sorry. I lost track of the time."
She turned up her nose at me. "Very well. We need to be on our way."
With that, we exited the house through the front door, en route to the automobile waiting for us.
Rose stopped and turned around, gazing up at the massive Renaissance Revival mansion that was her home for many years of her life. I stood next to her.
"Well," she sighed. "This is quite possibly the last time I'll see this house."
I wrapped my gloved hands around her arm in a friendly manner. "Why are you so melancholy, Rose? Philadelphia is your home and we will be there shortly."
She turned her head towards me and flashed a sad grin. "I suppose you're right, dear. This will be a new chapter in my life."
"Come along, girls," Ruth called, not looking back.
Rose rolled her eyes. "She's so impatient!"
We both giggled silently until Cal walked up to us and ushered us to the car. "Now ladies," he said in his usual smarmy manner. "We don't want to miss the ship, now do we?"
Rose sighed. "No, Cal."
I couldn't help but feel remorse for poor Rose. She was being forced into a marriage with Cal to ensure the DeWitt Bukater wealth. When Rose's father died, it was revealed that he had acquired massive amounts of debt, even though he was one of the wealthiest men in America. Now Rose's mother, being the materialistic and greedy woman that she is, arranged this marriage because Cal is the heir to a massive steel fortune in Pittsburgh, and this would keep the DeWitt Bukater name in good graces and good fortune. If Rose did not marry a rich man, the family would no longer have their wealth. So, they were returning to America for the big wedding that was to take place in Philadelphia.
I, on the other hand, planned to return to my home city of Boston, where I grew up as the daughter of Bartley and Margaret O'Hara. My father was a shipping magnate up until his death when I was just twelve years old. Margaret is Ruth's sister and I was to move back with her in my childhood home until I found another husband.
You see, I was married before. To a man named Edward Montvale III, who was the son of a British viscount. It was an arranged marriage set up by my mother and it required me to live with him in England. Less than a year later, Edward died in an automobile accident, and I moved in with the DeWitt Bukaters soon after his funeral, which took place only two months before I climbed aboard the Titanic. When the ship docked, I would attend Cal and Rose's wedding, then move be on my way to Boston to get married again. I was only nineteen years old, therefore, I couldn't remain a widow. My mother simply would not allow it.
The car pulled right up to the docks at Southampton, where the area was buzzing with activity. The docks were full of life, with excited passengers about to board, people who were saying goodbye to the passengers, or those who just wanted to catch a glimpse of the famous unsinkable ship. The only open space was a path toward the ship that was cleared for us.
Lovejoy opened the door and I stepped out, my eyes transfixed on the wondrous ship before me. The late morning sun loomed above it, making it glow with radiance. It was one of the grandest sights I had ever seen. After all, it was the largest moving object ever built.
Rose, however, seemed unimpressed. "I don't understand what all the fuss is about," she said. "It can't be any bigger than the Mauretania."
I could tell from the look on her face that she was impressed by the massive size. Rose often acted aloof and unimpressed to stay on her family's good side.
Cal rolled his eyes. "You can be blasé about some things Rose, but not the Titanic. It's over a hundred feet longer than the Mauretania and far more luxurious."
I smiled, still looking up at the majestic ship before me. "I think it is just marvelous."
We strolled up the ramp to the first class doors of the R.M.S. Titanic. After handing in our tickets, we were escorted to our suite. I must admit, my expectations were greatly exceeded. The interior was as luxurious as a palace, with its mahogany-paneled walls, gold trim, and sparkling chandeliers.
From my bedroom, I could hear the joyous cheers of the hundreds of people outside as the ship jerked into motion. I desperately wanted to get outside and walk around the deck and explore the area, but I had to get settled in, and then join the other elite first-class passengers for dinner. I thought this trip would be terribly uneventful. It would be the same as any other day in my life; I'd be inside for most of the day, only venturing outdoors when I was supervised, attending boring parties and dinners hosted by the most vain and shallow people, and only talking when I was spoken to. This is the average existence for an upper-class woman. She is someone who is preened and molded to perfection, seen as the ideal woman in Western society. To hell with that ideal. I stared out the window, out across the Southampton docks that were slowly moving away and wished that I could just be free. If only for a day, just to know what it feels like.
