Patrick woke up with a jolt. If he had time to think about it he really didn't know why he had woken up suddenly but he had because something was off. It took him a few moments to realize that it wasn't something that had happened but rather something that wasn't happening. The regular, rhythmic sound of the ship's engines had stopped, like a heart had stopped beating.
As he lay there in the dark, waiting for the sound to continue, he couldn't help but feel anxious and not just because of the ship's lack of movement.
Patrick was accompanying his father, who had personal business to attend to in New York. His father was a bit of a modern man when it came to business because he actually engaged in it. "If it's my money then I want to have a say in how it's managed and damn those Society nitwits who wouldn't know what to do with ten pounds if it was actually in their hands!" he had railed in the past.
At the time Patrick's cousin the Earl of Grantham had taken up the torch of propriety and tradition by arguing the opposite. Both men were passionate about their views but respected the other for having their opinion.
Patrick had decided to stay out of the argument by turning to his cousin Mary, who was seated on his left at the dinner table. "I think they're only a step away from blows," he whispered to her.
"I doubt it," she dismissed his attempt to create intimate conversation.
Patrick sighed; it was always the same way with Mary. They both knew what was expected of them so why not make an effort to be pleasant about the arrangement?
"Give it time, boy," was his father's advice, "She'll come around."
Patrick wasn't sure she wanted her to 'come around' to the idea of marrying him; he would have liked it if she actually wanted to be with him and not tolerate the idea.
He wanted more time to spend with her, so she could get to know him and vise versa. This is why when his father insisted that he travel with him to New York for business he asked if they could get it over and done with, so they wouldn't miss more of the Season.
His father had laughed, "What a girl you are, worrying about missing the Season."
Patrick flushed, "Well if it means Mary doesn't have a choice but to spend time with me by giving me a certain amount of waltzes I don't mind what you call me. Besides that Duke of Crowborough was sniffing around her last year and I can't have him weasel his way in to her affections."
"A strategic romantic, I like it. Very well, we sail in early April and we'll return by May," his father declared.
Now he was lying in bed on a luxurious ship, waiting for it to continue it's journey and hoping to fall back asleep but now in the stillness he found himself thinking about her again.
Lady Mary Crawley had made him lose many nights of sleep just because of the internal battle that raged regarding how he really felt about her.
Did he want her because it was a good business match, keeping the money in the family? Did she really feel that cool towards him because of personal dislike or was it dislike of the circumstances of their understanding? Did he just view her as more of a conquest because of her attitude towards him? These questions and more kept rolling through his mind over and over.
His reverie was broken with the sound of loud footsteps pounding outside, it sounded like someone was running up and down the corridor.
Patrick got up to investigate, he stuck his head outside the door. "Hello, excuse me, what's the commotion?" he asked a man, wearing evening dress, who had a panicked look.
"The ship's hit something. I was playing cards and the light fixtures started shaking. Me and the chaps went to see what was happening and there was ice all over," the man rushed out an explanation, "I'm going to grab my life vest like the steward advised and head back up to see what's going on." And with that he left Patrick standing in the hallway dumbfounded.
Life vests? Hitting something? Ice? It sounded too sensational to be true. But it must be, after all why had the engines stopped? Patrick went back inside to his room and decided he would wake his father before deciding what to do.
He went to the door that connected the adjoining rooms, "Father," he softly called out as he opened the door and went in, "Father you have to wake up, there's a problem with the ship." He shook his father's shoulder gently.
"What's the meaning of this?" his father asked, startled and flustered before turning on the bed's side light.
"Father, I'm sorry to wake you up but there's an emergency with the ship," Patrick tried to keep the panic from creeping into his voice but as he continued he found it harder to control, "The engines have stopped, there's talk that we've hit something maybe a berg since there's ice all on the upper decks."
"Get a hold of yourself Patrick," James Crawley sat up in bed to listen for the engines himself. "Well if the engines are off then there could be a problem with them that they are seeing to or perhaps they've stopped the ship for the remainder of the night as a precaution against bergs."
Patrick tried to hold his tongue but logic overcame him, "Well there's no harm in find out answers for ourselves, I'm going to dress and see if I can locate someone who's informed."
His father scoffed, "Suit yourself, when it turns out to be nothing please don't wake me again to inform me."
James dismissed him by turning out the light and rolling over in the bed.