She was the loveliest girl he had ever seen. Cal noticed her from across the room. Her red hair was swept back into an artfully messy bun. She wore a simple strand of pearls and a snow white dress. Her features were exquisite, her figure, perfect. "Who is that?" he asked.

Eric searched the room. "Oh, her?" he said. "That's Rose Dewitt-Bukator. Her father was the one involved in that unfortunate business last summer."

"You don't mean Henry, do you?" Cal said. "I didn't know he had a daughter."

"She's just made her debut," Eric said.

"She's extraordinary."

Eric smiled. "Found something you want, have you?"

"I've wanted many women," Cal said. "I need her."

Eric chuckled. "Good luck."

"I don't rely on luck."

…

Rose was startled by Cal's sudden appearance at her side, though she hid it well. "Hello," she said politely, offering a smile. "I don't believe we've met."

"No." He bowed slightly. "I couldn't help noticing you. Allow me to introduce myself. Caledon Hockley."

The name was familiar. She was sure she'd heard it somewhere before. "Pleased to make your acquaintance. I'm-"

"I know who you are," Cal said. He flashed a charming grin. "I inquire."

"Oh, well, I'm flattered by the compliment. Thank you."

"Would you care to dance?" he asked.

"Alright," she said.

That was how it began. He danced well, and she found herself spending the rest of the party with him. Their talk was the usual polite inquiries and observations, nothing of any depth was said, but she hadn't really expected it would be. Cal was charming and well-mannered, but she doubted if anything lived below his immaculately groomed surface.

Cal wasted no time in finding out as much about her as possible. Most of his information concerned her family's financial situation. It was dire, indeed, even more so than he first suspected. That wasn't a problem; he had more than enough money to make up for it. And few people know, though there were the occasional whispers. Still, they weren't about Rose herself, and even if they had been. There was a strong possibility Cal wouldn't have cared. He wanted Rose; he needed her, and that was that.

….

He was at the next party. Rose hardly made it into the room before Cal was in front of her. "We meet again," he said with a smile.

She nodded. "Well, it's a large party and a small social circle," she said, not unpleasantly. "That's likely to happen."

Cal chuckled. It wasn't quite the response he expected, far from it, but he liked it. He wasn't sure if Rose was unaware of who he was—and thus, oblivious to the honor of his attentions—or if she just didn't care. Either way, he was more intrigued than ever. "May I have the pleasure of dancing with you again this evening?" he asked, offering his hand.

Rose felt her mother's eyes on her back. Ruth watched every move. Saying no wasn't an option. She wasn't entirely sure how she felt about this man, or what she thought about him, aside from her belief that he was as shallow as most of the people they knew. That wasn't exactly a character flaw, at least, not in their circle, and he certainly seemed pleasant enough. "I would be delighted," she answered, taking his hand.

Cal danced well. It was a thought she had more than once over the course of the next month. He was at every party she attended, and he always managed to ask her to dance before anyone else. They were supposed to switch partners throughout the evening, but by their third party together, Cal didn't bother anymore. "It's such trouble going off with another girl for ten minutes and having to find you again," he said.

"Don't you think it's a bit unfair to spend so much time together?" Rose asked. "We aren't the only people here, after all. It may look inappropriate."

Cal swept her across the ballroom floor, a hand on her waist. "I'm not interested in anyone but you," he said. "And nothing I do is inappropriate."

Rose couldn't help smiling. It was flattering, even if she wasn't certain she cared for this man. He was good-looking, that was undeniable. He had an air of authority, and it was obvious he expected to get his own way in all matters. It was a bit attractive at times, like that one. She could see why some people were drawn to him. It gave her pause, though. A man like that commanded the entire room easily; a man like that could keep you safe, but he would also expect to command you, as well. Rose knew she couldn't live with that. He was gracious and charming, but her instincts told her to be careful with him. Despite her initial conclusion, there was a whole world beneath his smooth surface, and she suspected not all of it was good.

Her mother was overjoyed by the budding romance, though she contained it. Ruth limited herself to encouraging remarks, reminding Rose of their position and of Cal's. "Yes, I know," was Rose's invariable answer. "I'm not discouraging him, Mother."

"Well, don't be too enthusiastic either," Ruth cautioned. "He can't think you're running after him."

"I won't. I know."

When she was alone Rose sighed and stared at herself in the mirror. She was said to be beautiful. Everyone agreed; everyone had always agreed on that point. It was her one redeeming quality; her beauty made up for her being a girl. No-one ever said it in those words, but she knew. Her beauty would get her a suitable husband, and without that, what use was she to anyone. If she'd had a fortune of her own or been expected to inherit, things would have been different. A girl with her own money could generally do as she liked, up to a point, at least, but a girl without money, even such a lovely one, had no real choices.

Rose touched her mouth. This was what Cal loved. Her face, her body, her curls. He loved the swell of her breast, the curve of her waist, the way she wore clothes. He loved her smooth, creamy skin and fine eyes. He didn't love her mind, her intelligence or her opinions. He didn't love that she could recite dozens of poems or her knowledge of history and art. He didn't love her skill as a pianist. He didn't love her hopes and secret fears. He knew nothing about them. He never asked, and she never told him.

As he escorted her into yet another dinner, Rose wondered if it could even be called love. As far as she could tell, any girl could take her place, and as long as she was sufficiently attractive, Cal would never notice. That bothered her as much as her fears about his domineering ways. If she was doomed to marry a man out of necessity, must it be a man who expected to control most, if not all, of her life? And couldn't she at least care for him? Was it too much to ask that he love her, truly love her, and not just her most pleasing attributes?

It was absurd. It was childish. She was being difficult again. But Rose couldn't feel otherwise, and she suspected, she shouldn't have to. It was the world they lived in, the arbitrary rules they set for themselves that were absurd and childish; they were difficult, not her. Rose glanced at Cal. Would he ever understand? Was three any situation that could make him understand?

…..

"I hope this isn't too forward of me," Cal said. They were in the back garden, alone. Over the course of the past few months Ruth had allowed them more and more time unchaperoned, to Rose's disappointment. He hadn't done anything to dislike him for. In fact, he had grown increasingly affectionate and attentive, but there was a demanding quality to it, as though she should be flattered by every smile he gave. And he was so difficult to talk to.

He faced her, hand in his pocket. Rose's heart beat faster. She knew exactly what was coming. Her mother had predicted it. So had all of her friends. He opened the box, revealing a magnificent diamond ring. Rose sucked in her breath. Cal grinned proudly. It never occurred to him there's more than one kind of overwhelmed. "My feelings for you are no secret," he said. "I don't ask this lightly. Rose, sweetpea—" He placed the ring on her hand, and she tried not to roll her eyes at the pet name. He was so self-assured, she thought. Did he ever think she might say no? Had anyone ever told him "No" about anything? "Would you be my wife?" he asked.

Rose looked at the ring and then at him. Saying no was impossible; somehow, he made it impossible.

…..

"I don't want to hear it," Cal said impatiently. "I'm getting married next month. That's what I should be focusing on, not this nonsense."

John Spenser kept his expression blank. He was tall, thin, and balding early; the last quality he secretly blamed on Cal. He glanced enviously at his full head of glossy, black hair. No stress for him, no worries. Everything was always taken care of by someone else. "Sir, I realize that," John said.

"If you do, then why are you still bringing this to me?" Cal demanded.

"We need you to make the final decisions. The men—"

"Get rid of them," Cal said.

"All of them, sir? Shouldn't we make an example of the leaders only?"

Cal's eyes narrowed. 'Are you questioning my decision?" he said, his voice low and cold. "I'm late for dinner with my fiancée because of this absurd problem, one you should be able to handle, and you question the way I choose to resolve it? Perhaps I should include you in this," he added. "The mills will need new workers, and perhaps this one needs a new foreman as well."

John's mouth went dry. "Sir, I don't think that's necessary. I-"

"Failed to stop this insurrection before it began," Cal replied. "I pay you to maintain order, to keep the place running smoothly and profitably, not to allow agitators to stir up the workers."

"I assure you it won't happen again," John said.

"I know it won't. I'll find someone competent to take over your job." Cal waved his hand dismissively. "I'm sweeping everything clean."

John couldn't believe his ears. Fired? Just like that? And after twelve years? Twelve years of hard work, of always being on time, staying late, rarely missing a day? His disbelief turned to anger, and he opened his mouth to speak. He closed it again, shoulders slumped. There was nothing he could say to change it. Cal's mind was made up. He didn't care about the rent that was due next week, his son's dentist bills, his daughter's school fees, the shoes his wife needed, the new clothes they all needed, or the thousand other expenses his foreman's pay barely covered. None of that mattered. How could it? It didn't touch Cal. Men would come and go, struggling by, and he would remain the same, just as rick and cold as ever. John shot him a disgusted look before walking out.

….

"I'm sorry I'm late," Cal said. He sat down next to Rose. "I was held up at the office."

"That's quite alright," Ruth said congenially. "Mr. Hockley, you know Lucille de Beauvoir."

He smiled in the direction of a handsome, older woman. "Yes, of course. Lovely to see you again," he said.

"And Gregory Egan," Ruth went on. The two men exchanged nods. "And this is Charles Miniver," she said, indicating the man on Cal's right. "Mr. Miniver is in the importing business," she explained. "We were just telling him a little about what you do."

"It isn't very interesting, I'm afraid," Cal said. He looked over at Rose. "It takes up far more of my time than I care for, especially now."

Rose pretended not to hear the implication in his voice. She'd been relieved when he didn't arrive. The closer the wedding came, the more pressure she felt around him. Nothing ever seemed right to her. Everyone, even the maids, kept telling her what an honor it was to be chosen by a man like him. They told her how lucky she was. But where was the honor in being chosen simply for being beautiful? And was there no honor in being chosen by her? Why didn't anyone say how lucky Cal was?

Except, she hadn't really chosen him, had she?

…

"He can't do that!" Dan burst out. "He can't get rid of everyone like that!" He was a round man with black curls and a mustache.

"He can," John said. "He had. I'm out too."

"But you weren't part of it," Dan said. "It was me and Sid that started everything. Why punish you? You betrayed us."

"Because he wants to send a message," Sid explained. He was a well-build man with thick, blonde hair and large bands. "He knows next time it might succeed. He can't let that happen."

"That's it," John agreed. "Look, I'm sorry for what I did. I was only—"

"You were thinking of yourself and your own family," Sid said. "You thought he would reward your loyalty. It's understandable. But now you see we were right. That bastard must be made to listen. Only a show of force will make him see us as human beings with needs and rights just like him."

"There's nothing we can do now," Dan said dejectedly.

"I don't know what to do now," John sighed. "With a dismissal like this on my record…I just don't know."

"I know," Sid said. "I know exactly what we should do."

…

Rose sat in her room, clothes spread around her. Each piece was exquisite, designed and sewn just for her. Her wedding dress hung in the wardrobe, carefully wrapped in tissue paper. She had never worn any of them, except for fittings. They had all been bought for the trip to Europe, after the wedding. Bought by Cal. He paid for everything now. The house was safely her mother's again, as was its contents. The summer places in Newport and the Hamptons, the cars, the yacht. He invested for her, creating an income of her own.

Nothing of the sort was done for Rose. She owned no property and had no investments. She had no money of her own and little actual cash. Bills were sent to Cal, or she was given signed, blank checks and letters of credit. Once, as she watched him take money from his personal safe, Rose wondered what it would be like to grab a stack of bills and run away. He let her see the combination. She was obviously not considered a security risk. It would be so easy.

But where would she go? And what would she do once she got there? Those were questions Rose could never answer. She had dreams, but they were all too vague. Even if she'd had the courage to go through with it, she had no idea where to begin.

…..

"Are you sure about this?" Dan said. "What if someone sees us?"

"They won't," Sid assured him. "Just follow the plan, and everything'll be just fine."

"Maybe he's right," John said. "At least we should wait until dark."

"We'll look more suspicious at night," Sid argued. "We already went over all this, remember? Two days we went over the plan. Don't lose your nerve now."

"It's risky, that's all," Dan said.

"Is it any riskier than the way you're living now?" Sid asked. "No jobs? Families to feed? Rent to pay? Wages that can barely keep you afloat, and a bat to the head if you complain?" Sid gave them probing looks. "We're doing what we have to," he went on. "For ourselves and our families and for all the other poor saps men like Hockley spit on and walk past. We have to make them see we won't take it anymore."

"I know," Dan said. "It's getting caught I'm worried about."

"We won't get caught," Sid insisted. "And with what we get from this, we'll be set for life. Trust me."

John nodded. "Let's go."

…..

It looked like an ordinary delivery van, and in fact, it was. They'd stolen it from a produce company and switched the license plates. They drove slowly, watching the neighborhood. No-one was about at that time of day. Thanks to one of Dan's contacts, they knew when Cal would be home for the afternoon. Sid called that an unexpected bonus. "No-one'll ever expect it to happen right after lunch," he said.

They pulled the van up to the back garden wall. Anyone who noticed it would think they were making a routine delivery for the cook. They weren't parked in the correct place, but that wasn't enough to arouse suspicion. Servants likely wouldn't care, and their employers likely wouldn't even notice. After all, as John pointed out, they were incredibly oblivious people.

They hurried into the garden and settled in the bushes to watch the house. Soon, they would make their way inside. Cal's study was on the first floor. The veranda doors led into the back parlor, which was across the hall from the study. They would corner him there and take him out through the parlor. They'd ditch the van once they were finished.

"Look," John whispered.

The veranda doors opened, and to their utter delight, out walked Cal. "I can't believe it," Dan whispered. "This will be even easier than we thought."

Rose followed him out. "Who's that?" John asked.

"Someone who'll ruin things," Dan replied.

"Not necessarily," Sid said.

"We only need him," John argued.

"But think how much more we'll get for both of them," Sid pointed out. His gaze wandered over rose. "A lovely girl like that ought to bring in plenty and make a point as well."

"Is something wrong, sweetpea?" Cal was asking.

"No, of course not," Rose answered.

"There is," Cal said. "I can tell. Is it something to do with the wedding? Are you unhappy with the arrangements?"

It's the wedding itself, she wanted to say. It's too much, too fast, and all for the wrong reasons. "The arrangements are perfect," she said. "I can't object to anything." It wasn't a lie. The arrangements were perfect. If it had been anyone else's wedding, she would have loved them.

"If you—" They were upon them before Cal could say any more. A sack was thrown over his head, and his arms were pinned to his sides. Rose's scream was cut off by a cloth being stuffed into her mouth. A sack was placed over her head as well. Cal struggled to break free, but a well-aimed blow ended that. Rose's hands were tied. She kicked as she felt herself being picked up, and a heavy hand struck the back of her head. Everything went black.

Quickly, they tossed them into the back of the van. As they sped off, Sid grinned. "Well done," he said.

AN: This is a story I've wanted to do for a while. I'm not sure how long it will be. It was originally going to be a Cal/Rose story. I was interested in how their relationship might go if she never met Jack, and they never sailed on the Titanic. But now I wonder if Jack shouldn't be there, at some point. Any thoughts?