For the medicine, I looked and tuberculosis patients back in the 18th/19th/20th centuries, before medical technology was as advanced, were commonly given such things as iodine pills, vitamins, etc. for medicine, as well as some drugs that really didn't do much in the way of treating it. That is what I mean for medicine. Enjoy!
Sailing day was disappointing for Cal. There they were, at Southhampton, and they were standing in front of the ship. He couldn't help but smile. It looked absolutely fantastic, as fantastic as everyone had said, but Rose was quiet and only looked at the ship.
As they boarded, he looked about him with awe, but he could feel Rose on his arm only looking about her with mild aloofness.
She looked like she would rather be anywhere else than with him.
Their stateroom and lodgings were beautiful and the height of luxury, but again, Rose was quiet. Cal was dejected. He couldn't even make her happy with a trip like this.
However before he left her in her room before unpacking in his, he smiled softly at her. "Those are interesting paintings, Rose, though I must confess I am not that interested in that style of art."
She only looked at him, but somehow, it was...different than she had looked at him before. He could not place or name the difference though. She gave him a small smile. "They are...Thank you for buying them for me," she said awkwardly.
He smiled. "It was no trouble at all."
But as she turned around, he was dejected again. A rare moment had passed.
Later that day, he was taking a walk around the first-class deck, enjoying the fresh air. He smoothed back his loose dark hair that was blowing from the wind. Unlike most first-class men, he never wore hair gel. He disliked it.
However, his heart stopped as he saw Rose sitting on a bench, talking with what appeared to be a third-class man, judging from his dress and appearance. They were sitting and talking together, and laughing together. She was holding what appeared to be a book of...drawings?
Hiding behind a pole, he listened. "Well these are so interesting Jack," she was saying. "I wish I could draw like this."
They both laughed. "Well I could give you lessons if ya want."
They both laughed again. "Oh goodness what a disaster that would be."
He couldn't watch anymore. It hurt too much. Bitter bile was rising in his throat, and somehow, he knew it was something other than pure heartbreak.
He needed his medicine.
Going to his stateroom, he didn't close the door. He didn't have time. Pulling out his handkerchief, he raised it just in time. The coughing attack started, and it was marginally worse than before he had been diagnosed in December, but somehow, better than when he had been in the infirmary
That didn't comfort him though.
He coughed for a good while, and his heart jerked as he observed the dark scarlet blood on the white linen of the handkerchief afterward. It seemed to be a tad more than he had been coughing up lately—but just barely.
The last time he had had this much had been...four weeks ago? Then he rolled his eyes. He was worried over nothing.
He took his medicine, and then he nearly dropped the water glass as he observed Rose standing there in the doorway through the mirror. Had she been there the whole time?
He was speechless. "Cal, what's wrong?"
He only laughed bitterly. Not at her. Never at her. But, rather, at himself and his hatred of his disease. "What does it look like Rose? I-Well, I have consumption, darling. But no matter, only another reason for you to hate me and be disgusted by me. Don't you and...Jack have something to go talk about? I saw the way you were looking at each other...I...I was taking a walk and I just happened to see you two."
He rolled his eyes, trying to look nonchalant, as if it didn't affect him, but it did.
She only looked at him, shocked. "I don't hate you," she said evenly. "I never did. I...goodness, I was actually looking for you, to come and talk to you. And as for what you saw with Jack, why, that was nothing. I was taking a walk down by the bow and I wasn't looking where I was going, and I was clumsy, as usual, and I knocked into him and made his papers blow all over the place. I felt horrid, and I invited him up to the first-class deck and helped him gather them, and we were just talking for awhile."
He was quiet, feeling his heart speed up at his relief.
"But Cal-my goodness, what's this about consumption? Oh goodness-"
He smiled bitterly. "I was diagnosed in late December."
She only stared at him. "So that was your business trip, was it? You...you...you must have lied about..."
He smiled at her again, in a self-deprecating way. "Yes. I did. I actually went to a horrid place, a sanatorium in New York. I am no longer contagious, and cannot pass the disease on to you or anybody else. You do not need to worry."
She only stared. "But Cal...why...goodness...why didn't you tell us? Why didn't you..."
He laughed bitterly. "Oh goodness Rose, I didn't tell anybody because I don't want anybody to know. You know how all of first-class people back home are...everybody would sneer at me. And as for Ruth, I didn't tell her because I knew she would have called the engagement off. And as for you..." he stopped, growing quiet.
She took a step closer to him. "As for me, what?"
He only looked at the carpet. "I...I did not tell you because I knew you would neither care nor even attempt to grow to love me back, once you knew."
He could not look at her. It was her voice that brought his eyes to her face.
"Cal...oh goodness...I'm sorry for the way I have acted, all these months. I truly am. It was never you I was mad at. It was...it was my mother, for pushing me into what she wanted, for pushing at me my whole life. And I was mad at myself. I was...why I was nothing more than a little child, to be honest. And I took that anger and deflected that at you, and I am truly sorry. But these past few months I have been truly thinking, and I want to give us...I wanted to give us...a real chance. Life is what you make it, and I know that when I am an old woman, I do not want to look back and see that I let happiness slip by with both hands. I only know you a little, and from what you seem, you are not at all like the typical first-class man my mother has set me up with in the past. Far from it."
He stared at her, feeling himself starting to smile, starting to grow happy, but one other thought stopped him. Stabbed him in the heart.
"But Rose...that makes me so happy, you have no idea how much, but..."
"But what?"
"But how will you feel if we get married and I die a year, two years after that?"
She only smiled at him. "Then that will be the best two years of my life."
He stared at her, dumbstruck.
She only laughed softly. "Oh Cal, I don't care that you have consumption. I truly don't. I...I am nothing like those other snobby first-class ninnies at all the parties, who only care about your good looks and money, who hang all over you and fawn on your every word, throwing themselves at you and practically fainting when you even smile at them, and fighting each other for you..."
She didn't even seem to realize that she had started to pace, letting the disdain, and was that...envy?...plainly show on her face and in her tone of voice.
At the end, she started, and blushed. "Oh goodness, I...ah...goodness, I'm...I'm sorry. I...I couldn't help myself."
He only smiled and winked at her. "Well well Rose, I had no idea you were so jealous of them."
She only looked at him. "Oh goodness...fine, I'll admit it, yes I was! But don't you start getting a big head over that, Caledon Hockley."
He smiled. "Oh I won't...but goodness darling, that makes me wonder what else you would say if you were unaware of it."
She laughed. "Oh goodness."
He smiled, winking at her, hoping to tease her and see that blush again. "But my my Rose, you think I'm handsome? Just how handsome, really?"
She only smiled shyly and walked over to him, running her hand through his soft dark hair. She truly did find him handsome. She always had.
"Insanely handsome." She smiled at him, and he saw the truth in her eyes and on her face, as well as in her words. He snorted and smiled, rolling his eyes, not believing her. He could feel his face redden.
"Please, you do not Rose."
"Oh goodness but I do," she said seriously. "And have you honestly never noticed how all the other women look at you at all the parties and galas we attend?"
He felt his face redden even more. He had always found himself...mildly appealing, but...
She smiled. "I do believe you are blushing, Cal."
He snorted again, knowing full well she was right but not wanting to admit it. He rolled his eyes upward. "I am not."
She laughed. "Oh I'll let you have that one, Mr. Hockley, but I know full well you were."
He only rolled his eyes, smiling, and turned away. "Ha ha Rose."
She only laughed. As the moment passed, he suddenly whirled around. "Rose? Would you...like to spend time together later?"
She smiled. "I would love to. But on one condition..."
He smiled. "And what's that?"
"You must not wear hair gel, ever. I saw this one man earlier, and his hair looked like it was caked onto his head."
He laughed. "Lucky for you, darling. I never do. I dislike it."
She smiled. "Oh good. Besides..." Then she stopped, suddenly shy.
He smiled indulgently at her. "Besides what?"
"Your hair looks very attractive the way it is right now, all down and natural," she said shyly, blushing.
He thought it was adorable. He winked at her, and to his amusement, her blush deepened.
"I'll be sure to keep that in mind," he said.
As she left, laughing all the while, he felt like the luckiest man in the world. It was hard, just then, to even remember he was sick...almost.
