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Chapter Three

Saturday, April 6, 1912

The next morning dawned bright and cold, leading Esther to insist that Cate wear a shawl in addition to her long, half-sleeved dress of dark brown velvet, with lighter chiffon over the shoulders and intricate, embroidered designs at the bodice. This, coupled with a long, dark day coat and light brown gloves, as well as a wide-brimmed hat topped with a feather, made Cate feel like she was dressing for an entire event, rather than for a morning of strolling through Southampton. But these were the customs.

When she was finally dressed and ready, Cate thanked Esther before leaving the hotel suite and taking the lift to the bottom. She had spent more times in that hotel with Lillian than she could count, but it was strange to be there alone. Often, if they arrived with several days to spare before their ship set sail, they would walk through the city together, reading on long benches in the park, or taking tea at a quaint café. It was rare that the two would agree on what they should do, but they had been warned by their grandparents (and their father) never to separate while in Southampton, and their chaperone, a woman named Mrs. Briggs, had seen to that. It was only as they grew older that they finally disregarded these rules.

Cate's pleasure had always been to go to the park and read for hours, most likely some novel that Will had brought her upon one of his returns, while Lillian had always wanted to go for tea. Cate's hatred for tea had never dissuaded Lillian from wanting to go, and so Cate had spent many rueful hours there sipping lemonade while her sister eyed the people around her and made judgments upon their actions and their clothing. As much as the park bench called to Cate, even she had to concede that it was too chilly for such an adventure and so, reluctantly, as if Lillian was still dragging her, she made her way to a nearby café and seated herself at one of the wrought iron tables in the shade of the green awning.

She sat there with her book aloft, a mug of hot coffee before her, reading and losing herself in this new adventure. A dark tale of danger and mystery were two ingredients for the perfect story, Cate thought, and as a little girl she had often tried to imitate Jo March from Little Women by writing her own stories. She had not, she found out, a talent for inventing ghoulish monsters and damsels in distress, however, so for the most part she kept to reading and writing in her journal, which was currently nestled safely in her Chinese sewing box.

"Miss Murdoch?"

Cate jumped, startled, looking up to see none other than Sixth Officer Moody standing before her. He quickly removed his hat and held it in his hands.

"I apologize," he said, "for startling you and for using an incorrect surname. I meant to say 'Miss Alton.'"

Cate closed her book. Her heart gave another extra thump as she looked up at him. "It's quite alright, Mr. Moody," she said. "Please, feel free to call me Miss Murdoch. It is not, in a sense, incorrect. Or better yet, call me Cath … er, Cate."

James smiled. "May I join you, Miss Murdoch?"

His smile was infectious. "Please do," she replied, gesturing at the empty seat across from her.

The officer sat down across from her. "You are a lady of many names, miss," he said. "Miss Alton, Miss Murdoch, Catharine, Cath, Cate … it's a wonder even you manage to remember them."

Cate laughed. "Well, I suppose you're right," she said. "Except for 'Cath.' No one has ever called me that."

"Perhaps if I ever grow so bold as to take you up on your offer, perhaps I shall call you 'Cate,'" said James. "That is, if you have no objection."

"None at all," said Cate, smiling. "What about you, Mr. Moody? Do you go by anything other than 'James?'"

"Well," he said thoughtfully, stroking his chin "there's always Mr. Moody and Sixth Officer Moody, or simply Officer Moody—"

"My," said Cate with mock amazement, "how convenient that your parents should name you Sixth Officer Moody."

"Indeed," said James without missing a beat. "Although occasionally they shorten it to Jimmy if they find I am being foolish or silly, though I cannot believe that that is ever the case. Most, however, call me James."

"Perhaps if I ever grow so bold as to call you by your Christian name, I shall call you 'James,'" said Cate with another smile. "Never mind if you have any objections."

James laughed. "I admire your honesty, Miss Murdoch." He looked down at the book that Cate had set down upon the table. "Dracula," he read. "I've never had the courage to read it. Or perhaps I simply haven't the time. Do you enjoy it?"

"Quite," Cate replied eagerly. "I haven't enjoyed something so much since I read Frankenstein. It is difficult to put down."

"Well then," said James, "I thank you for finding the willpower to put it down to speak to me."

"I suppose I can deign my presence for a conversation," Cate said airily, looking off into the distance with her nose in the air. Simultaneously, she wondered how he could have so easily brought her from her shell? She was never like this with strangers!

"Oh, very kind of you," James said solemnly. "I shall spend the rest of my day marveling at my luck, truly."

"I should hope so," said Cate.

"I hope you do not find it impertinent that I ask," said James after they had both laughed at their respective silliness, "but how does a young lady such as yourself earn two surnames? Was it a contest that I somehow missed out on?"

Cate smiled, though the light had dimmed a bit in her eyes. "No," she said. "I was raised, not only by my father, but also by my mother's parents; my mother died when I was quite young, you see, and so her parents funded my sister's and my education in Oxford. They are quite wealthy socialites living in Philadelphia, which is where I am bound. So, in order to properly debut in society, my surname is most often Alton."

James nodded thoughtfully. Cate had surprised herself—very rarely did she share such personal information, never mind to a complete stranger! She knew virtually nothing about James Moody, except for the fact that he had charming wit and he worked with her father. She had been taught to be mysterious and coy. "Never give away too much at once," her grandmother, Beth, had warned sternly. "No man will find you interesting if you're an open book." Cate had always interpreted this as being careful not to give away every thought and feeling she possessed. Those she kept reserved for her journal. If anyone else had asked why she had two surnames—not that any outside her family knew—she would have made some charming, sly remark and changed the subject, perhaps whilst hiding behind an ornate fan. What was it about Mr. Moody—James—that made her feel like she didn't need to hide?

"And your grandfather is the Viscount Cowanshire?" James continued.

Cate glanced down at her coffee. She positively hated talking about herself, especially about her family—or her maternal family at any rate.

"Yes," she said shortly. "What about you, Mr. Moody? From where do you hail?"

If James was startled by the sudden change of topic, he didn't show it. He didn't miss a beat before replying, "Scarborough. On the coast. I've lived there all my life with my parents and sisters."

"Is it nice there?"

"It's beautiful," said James. He began telling her of the town in North Yorkshire, the ruins of the Scarborough Castle nestled on a rocky promontory that overlooked the North Sea, and the hours upon hours he had spent on the beach and in the water. "And surely you've heard our beautiful ballad," he added.

"Perhaps," said Cate. Quietly, almost under her breath, she sang a few lines from a song she knew but wasn't quite sure how. "Are you going to Scarborough Fair? Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme …"

James smiled. "You have a beautiful voice, Miss Murdoch," he said. "I would love to hear you sing the song in its entirety; few can do it justice."

"And I am not one of them," Cate said quickly with a nervous laugh. "I am certainly not a singer, Mr. Moody, though I appreciate your compliment."

"And you are modest," said James. "Unnecessarily so, I might add, but I have the feeling that you will not believe me."

Cate laughed. "You are correct, Mr. Moody."

"Please," he said, looking at her so directly that she blushed under his gaze, "call me James."

Suddenly, Cate felt as uncomfortable as Esther had just the other day. "I couldn't," she said, flustered. "It wouldn't be—"

"Wouldn't be what?" James asked. "You have already given me permission to call you any number of names, if I recall—Catharine, Cath, Cate—why cannot you do me the same honor?"

"But you don't call me any of those names," Cate pointed out. "You have only ever called me Miss Murdoch."

"Then I won't," said James simply, shrugging. "If it will encourage you to call me James, then I shall finally take you up on your offer and call you … Cate."

It took a little more coercing until Cate finally agreed to call him by his forename instead of what was probably considered more 'proper.' When she did finally concede to calling him James, it seemed to break down any last barriers that prevented her from being truly comfortable around him.

"Unfortunately," James said after at least two hours of conversation and multiple cups of tea (for him) and coffee (for her), "I must be off. Perhaps I may count upon seeing you aboard the ship, Cate?"

Cate smiled. "Probably not," she admitted. "Not until she sets sail, at any rate."

James shrugged. "Then I shall have to hope to run into you around town," he said, rising to his feet. Much to Cate's surprise, he had insisted on paying the entire bill, though she was (secretly) certain that she could afford it more easily than he. He stood before her and this time, when she held out her hand, he bent his head and kissed it.

"Thank you for the pleasure of your company, Cate," he said, still bent double so that his face was level with hers as she sat. "I hope to experience it again shortly."

"The pleasure was mine, James," said Cate, a bit breathless for reasons she couldn't understand.

James smiled and straightened up. He nodded his head to her, replaced his hat, and strode off toward the pier, leaving Cate to stare after him.