[A/N. The idea for this story has been in the back of my head for awhile, but I was reluctant to start it considering I was already working on a few different stories, but two of them are nearly finished and the idea came back to me again today. It was when I was writing "Eliza's Story" that I got the idea, and then when watching "Titanic" the other week that the idea began to form properly. I was watching the bit where the ship sinks and Ruth is sitting in the boat watching it silently, having just lost her daughter there. What was she thinking? What was she feeling? This story is basically "Ruth's story." It will begin after the ship sinks, but I thought I'd put in this prologue first to perhaps explain some things, and help you get to know Ruth.]
Ruth's Story.
Prologue:
Ruth stood silently, her head leaning against the cold windowpane as she stared out at the London street. Below her life went on as if she had not just lost the one person she cared about more than anything in this world. She smiled slightly as she saw two children rush after a motor car screaming with excitement, and then suddenly her breath caught in her throat, and her hand went to her mouth. Striding down the street, dressed immaculately in a suit and hat, was the spitting image of Mathew. And then Ruth sighed and quickly sat down in the closest chair trying to catch her breath. It wasn't the first time this had happened since her husband had passed away, and she doubted it would be the last either. She thought back to the funeral:
"Ruth," Mrs. Hamilton, their neighbor and closest friend, had said taking her hand firmly in her own. "My darling. I can't tell you how sorry I am for your loss. And young Rose." Mrs. Hamilton wasn't the only one there- the funeral had attracted most of London's society, something Ruth secretly wished hadn't happened. Her pain was obvious enough, and she didn't want to be with all these people who didn't even really care about Mathew anyway.
Ruth hadn't known what to reply, so she'd simply nodded. Her voice would have choked anyway. Ever since the police had come knocking on her door to tell her of the accident she had been barely able to speak. Telling her daughter Rose had been the worst of all. Whilst Rose was not exactly close to either of her parents it was still hard for Ruth to tell her she no longer had a father. Surprisingly Rose had listened to it all and then gone to her room. When she had emerged a few hours later she was pale faced, but entirely calm.
"Mother," Rose had come up to her. "We're to go inside now."
Ruth had allowed herself to be led inside by her seventeen-year-old daughter as though their roles were reversed. The ceremony itself seemed to go on forever, and if anyone had asked Ruth afterwards what had been said she would have not had a clue. Beside her Rose had sat, silent and resolute.
After the funeral they had been expected to receive mourners but Ruth had pleaded sickness- the last thing she needed was to see and speak to people, all of whom would tell her how wonderful Mathewl had been, and what a loss it was.
Ruth sighed again, and blotted the last line on the letter she had been writing covering the final sale of almost everything she owned before she had stood up and walked over to the window. Then she read it over again, wondering whether it was worded right, and whether it sounded business like enough. All her life someone had been looking after those kind of things- first her father, and then her husband. And now he was gone, leaving only her and Rose. She remembered the day she'd found out the money was gone. It was only a week after Mathew's funeral:
"Mrs. Dewitt Buckater, there's a man here to see you. Says he's from the bank. Speaks pretty posh an' all so he's probably tellin' the truth." The cockney girl had said, knocking briefly on the door of the sitting room where Ruth was sitting going over letters from friends and family which were mostly condolence letters. "I wasn't sure whether to let him in or not since you're not really receiving people at the moment."
"Then he probably is." Ruth said, looking up from the letter. "Show him in- and Emma?"
"Yes miss?" Emma paused in the doorway.
"You've got smudges of dirt all over your pinny. Perhaps you could put a clean one on?" Ruth suggested. "After all your appearance reflects upon us too."
"Yes Miss. I'll do it directly." Emma curtsied briefly, the London servants were a breed of their own, and left the room.
"Mrs. Dewitt Buckater?" A smooth voice asked from the doorway.
Ruth turned around. "Yes? And you are?"
"My name's Nelson. Nelson Simmonds? Perhaps you heard your husband mention me- I look after his affairs at the bank." The man said, and he hurried to extend a hand to Ruth.
She took it and shook it briefly. "No, my husband and I didn't talk about that kind of thing. I suppose he thought it wasn't the sort of thing a woman should be bothered with?" She sat back down in the chair she'd recently vacated. "Do take a seat Mr. Simmonds."
He sat down, perching on the edge of the seat, and looked around the room. "You have a nice house Mrs. Dewitt Buckater." He said formally.
"Thank you." Ruth replied equally as formally. A glance at the clock told her it was almost four- Rose would be back soon, and she wanted to have this over and done with before her daughter returned. No doubt Emma would tell her that someone from the bank was here and Rose would fret over what it meant. If only that blasted woman next door hadn't put the idea into Rose's head that without Mathew around they'd be poor. Rose had actually asked Ruth whether they'd end up in the workhouse and Ruth had laughed. "A Dewitt Buckater in the workhouse. My darling Rose, that's the last thing that would ever happen- not in a million years!"
"I know for a fact that it's worth quite a lot." Mr. Simmonds had commented, and Ruth had narrowed her eyes at him.
"If you'll excuse me Mr. Simmonds but I have rather a lot to do. With my husband's death and all….." She trailed off.
"I am sorry Mrs. Dewitt Buckater, I shall get straight to the point." The man said quickly. "I don't know whether or not you know this, but your husband has made quite a few bad investments lately, and in fact was in quite a lot of debt before his death."
"Debt?" Ruth repeated her heart racing.
"It seems Mr. Dewitt Buckater was into gambling in rather a large way. And unfortunately Mrs. Dewitt Buckater, he wasn't exactly the best poker player around." Mr. Simmonds said.
Ruth was still feeling sick. "How much debt?" She asked wondering what on earth she would pick to sell first- maybe some of the paintings?
"A lot." Mr. Simmonds said. "The truth is, Mrs. Dewitt Buckater, you have nothing."
"Mother?" Rose's voice interrupted Ruth's reverie and she hurried to cover the letter before her daughter came into the room. It wasn't that Rose didn't know they were selling everything and leaving, but Ruth didn't want to make it any harder than it already was for her. Rose burst into the room, her red hair a mess, and her cheeks bright with happiness. "Oh mother, I've had the best day ever." She claimed dropping into another seat.
"Rose, sit up straight." Ruth said automatically, and Rose rolled her eyes, but obeyed. "What's so exciting?"
"Alexandra and I were in the park on our last outing and we met the most handsomest men- soldiers Mother- and they invited us to-"
"ROSE!" Ruth interrupted. "Have you no decency? You're an engaged woman!"
Rose's smile faded and she was silent a moment. "An engaged woman." She spat out. "If it weren't for you Mother I'd be the same as every other girl my age, as all my friends, and-"
"-And you'd be broke." Ruth snapped. "Do you want to end up in the workhouse?"
Rose sighed and bit her lip. "It's just not fair mother." She muttered.
Ruth felt sorry for her of course, but it wasn't the time, nor the place, to show this. "Life isn't always fair Rose. It's a hard lesson to learn, but it's just as well you're learning it sooner rather than later."
Rose stood up. "I've got to finish some last minute packing." She said coldly, and she left the room.
Ruth put her head in her hands. What she had said only a few moments ago was more than true- life was not fair. Had life been fair Mathewl would still be alive, and even if he were not they would still have all their money and not have to resort to what they had to resort. A strange look crossed her face as she remembered when she'd solved the problem:
"Mrs. Dewitt Buckater." The tall, dark man had bowed before her. "I am delighted you agreed to see me. I assumed you might not wish to receive visitors still being in mourning and all."
Ruth had smiled slightly. "As much as I would like to spend my time alone there are things I've got to see to." Her thoughts immediately returned to the bank's terrible news only a few weeks before.
"I'm not going to beat around the bush here Mrs. Dewitt Buckater." The man said. "My name is Nathan Hockley- perhaps you have heard of me?"
Ruth nodded. The Hockleys were one of the wealthier families in America.
"I have been speaking to a friend of mine from the bank, a Mr. Simmonds, and even though this is against regulations, he has confided in me about your current predicament."
Ruth felt her face turn red.
"I must admit I was shocked. After all the Dewitt Buckaters are one of the most respected families in England- almost like us back in America. And I got to thinking about what I could do to help you."
"Help us?" Ruth burst out before she could help herself. As yet none of her friends and society knew of the problems she was having, although she knew perfectly that there would come a time when everyone would know.
"I met your daughter Rose a few months back with your husband. She is one of the loveliest young women I have ever seen." Mr. Hockley said.
Ruth nodded, slightly proudly. She knew perfectly well Rose was a beauty.
"I have a son, Mrs. Dewitt Buckater, Caledon. Granted he is a few years older than your daughter, but he is a good looking man who will one day come into a lot of money. My only concern is that he is never going to settle down. He prefers to simply have fun, and I want him to get married. My proposal Mrs. Dewitt Buckater is that my son and your daughter marry. I know it may seem as though it is coming out of the blue, but think about it. Both you and Rose would be looked after and live in the luxury you are used to. My family would benefit from the marriage also, having Cal marrying a well known name in England. I am going back to America soon, but Caledon is remaining in England for some time. Think about it Mrs. Dewitt Buckater."
"Mrs. Dewitt Buckater?" Lucy, the only maid left in the family house, was at the door. "I think you might want to go and see Rose- she seems pretty upset. Maybe she's concerned about leaving tomorrow and going so far away?"
Ruth nodded at her and hurried up to her daughter's room. Many of their things had already been sold, and the letter she had been writing earlier had verified the last of it.
"Rose?" She knocked on the door, but there was no response, so she opened it anyway.
Rose was lying across the bed, tears streaming down her face.
"Rose." Ruth said slowly, and she went to sit next to her daughter. "Please stop crying. It's not as bad as you think."
"Isn't it mother?" Rose demanded. "I'm going to marry someone I don't even know- I don't even know if I love him."
Ruth was shocked. "I thought you said he was a handsome and nice man."
"Handsome and nice yes." Rose replied. "But mother that doesn't equate to love. Love makes you feel all funny inside, and you can't stop smiling."
Ruth laughed gently. "You've been reading too many romance novels Rose." She said with a smile. "Love is something you learn. When your father and I married I barely knew him. I grew to love him as I got to know him. Ours was an arranged marriage too, and it was one of the best things that ever happened to me."
"But what if it doesn't happen?" Rose demanded. "What if I get to America and hate it? And hate Cal?"
"Do you hate Cal?" Ruth asked slowly. It didn't matter now of course since all the arrangements had been made and the ship was set to sail the next day.
"No." Rose said slowly. "He treats me very well, and I can see he cares about me a great deal."
"Well then there is nothing to worry about." Ruth said, dismissing all her daughter's fears. "Everything is going to work out just fine- I promise."
"It's not fair." Rose muttered.
"I told you it's not fair, it never is. But if you don't marry Cal what's going to happen to us?" Ruth asked.
"The workhouse." Rose repeated as though she'd been conditioned for that response on many occasions, which in fact she had.
"If I were young enough to marry then I would." Ruth said. "But I'm not. Cal's a nice man, a rich man, and we are going to live happily ever after with you marrying him."
Rose sighed and set her mouth. It seemed as though she had no choice.
Ruth left the room, and rubbed at her throbbing head. It broke her heart to have to do this to her only daughter, but it was the only way. If Rose didn't marry Cal then soon enough everyone in London would know the secrets of the Dewitt Buckaters and they'd have nothing and nobody. No, this was for the best and she wasn't going to let Rose change her mind, nor ruin this for them.