Arthur said an awkward goodbye to Alfred as his fiancée was watching them intently. He knew what was going through her mind and the exact same thing was crossing his' at that very moment, needless to say he felt very uncomfortable being stared at by Marianne, with whom he had got engaged to in the spur of the moment, and Alfred, who he had just met and, for a reason, felt week on the knees whenever he directed that pearly white smile to him "W-Well, you had been very kind, Mr. Jones..." Arthur began, not knowing how to bid farewell to the boy he would probably not see ever again.
"Alfred" the handsome Princeton student corrected the blonde young man, who nodded and looked down. Alfred looked down as well, trying to catch his eyes, and Marianne fought against herself in order to not cross her arms over her chest. As she was sitting down, she crossed her ankles instead. She was starting to feel very annoyed at the presence of the American – because he obviously didn't have any other accent – in their cabin. Arthur looked up "Alfred" he corrected himself as well "But I was hoping to spend more time alone with... my fiancée" he said through gritted teeth.
Alfred's smiled faltered and he looked at the woman sitting in a Louis XV sofa in the middle of the sitting room that kept the two bedrooms apart. He discretely approached Arthur's ear and whispered "I don't think you want that, in reality" he said, sensing the tension between the soon-to-be matrimony. Arthur sighed and faked a smiled before nodding at him and closing the door in his face. Alfred looked down at his feet and bit his lip. He walked away, determined to win the Brit's heart at any costs, because when something or, more specifically, someone made his way into Alfred F. Jones' mind or heart – in this case, both – he wouldn't stop until he got it.
Arthur sighed and ran a hand down his face, from behind, a smug smiling Marianne began clapping slowly "Bravo, mon cher" her future husband turned around to face her, with anger in his emerald eyes "You broke that kid's heart like a real professional" she took off her gloves, ignoring her fiancé's eyes burning through her "Michelle, prepare the bathtub for me and put the red and black gown on the bed" she spoke sternly to her maid, who was in her bedroom, making sure all her dresses were not wrinkled in the closet "Yes, mademoiselle" she blew a teasing kiss to Arthur before leaving the sitting room. He took a shaky deep breath and began to count to ten on his mind, to calm himself down, while walking over to their cabin's private promenade deck where he enjoyed the cold air against his cheeks, heated by his anger.
In the corridor, Francis was frantically looking for someone who would direct him to where he wanted to go. He was about to give up when he heard a familiar voice, speaking to the Countess of Rothes, another familiar voice. It was Tino, his favourite Finnish steward. When he was done with the Countess and she went into her stateroom, closing the door, he turned around and smiled upon finding Francis "Oh, Mr. Bonnefoy, you don't remember me but I was on the Mauretania" Tino said with a smile.
Francis put his hands over his shoulders, smiling at him. They were the same height "Of course, how can I forget my favourite steward?"
Tino giggled "Oh, sir... I didn't know you were boarding this ship" he said with a clueless expression on his face.
"Actually, I'm looking for Arthur. Have you seen him?" Francis asked, his smile never faltering. Tino nodded and led him to one of the many white doors. He knocked on it and waited patiently for an answer. Francis was nervous, but yet determined. He wouldn't let Arthur get away again. From inside, they heard footsteps of a woman approaching the door and Francis prayed to God that it wasn't his sister.
"Yes?" Michelle opened the door and was half surprised and half pleased – more pleased than surprised – that Monsieur Francis was there. She wasn't hoping that at all "Oh, monsieur, you are certainly a sight for sore eyes!" she said, showing all her happiness. She had always been glad to have Monsieur Francis as her boss; he was very kind and quite the flirt! Yet his sister was very demanding and never thanked anything she did for her. She was very mean.
"Thank you very much, Tino" he grabbed the boy's shoulders and kissed both his cheeks, making the younger blush and walk away, covering his mouth to stifle his giggles. Francis did the same to Michelle, who was quite accustomed to his displays of affection. When he entered the sitting room, the maid closed the door quietly "Is my sister here?" he asked in a whisper.
"She is taking a bath. They will be going to dinner in half an hour" Michelle said, looking back at the closed door of her room. Arthur and Marianne weren't married yet, so it wasn't appropriate that they shared a bed, even though neither of them was a blushing virgin, and she knew it, but for the sake of keeping up appearances, they would do whatever it took "Monsieur Arthur is in his room, changing too" she said with a smirk and a wink.
"Bless you, woman" Francis said with his never-faltering smile, squeezing her shoulders and going off to find his runaway lover. He didn't knock on the door, as he had seen Arthur nude in several occasions. He opened the door very slowly and saw that there was no one on the spacious room, but the clothes that Arthur had worn to board the ship were neatly folded in one chair, whilst the other parts of the evening dress was laid on top of the bed. He closed the door just as slowly and heard noises coming from inside the bathroom.
He took the clothes from the chair, careful not to unfold any of them by mistake, and gently put it over the bed, next to the evening dress' pants and jacket. He sat on the chair to wait for Arthur to come out. In his head, he knew what was going to happen, they would have an argument like they always did, one of them would humiliate the other – again like they always did –, they would make up and everything would return to normal between them.
Suddenly, the whistling of "The British Grenadiers" from inside the bathroom broke him out of his trance and he readied himself to meet his lover. Arthur came out of the door decorated with golden arabesques, looking down and buttoning up his white waistcoat. He was wearing the Marcella, the shirt and the bow tie, but no pants, which allowed Francis a good view of the long, smooth legs he loved so much – especially when they were wrapped around him during hot sex. Arthur looked up once he finished, not expecting to see Francis there, but when he did, he was frozen in place.
"Bonsoir, Arthur" Francis said with a cocky expression on his face and his legs crossed, sitting on the comfortable chair. Arthur came out of his initial shock "Well, this is new" he thought bitterly as the frown returned to his face and walked further into the room, not minding his semi-nudity, in spite of being a proper English gentleman. He began putting on his pants in front of the full-length mirror and tucking his shirt in. Francis sighed and grabbed the jacket from the bed. He walked over to Arthur, who didn't bother to turn around "You are quite temperamental. I should have expected something like this would happen, but sadly we had come to this" he said as he helped Arthur into the jacket.
The Englishman turned around and looked at his former lover and future brother-in-law. He still had the charm that had made him fall in love with him madly all those years ago, during the Frenchman's business trip to London, when he was just a lad. That luscious hair that fell to his shoulders; it was so soft and he loved to tangle his slender fingers into it as Francis' head laid on his lap after a passionate session of lovemaking. Or the way his bright blue eyes would twinkle when he declared his love for him on numerous occasions, but then, he thought back to the horrible words they had said to each other on their many private fights and arguments, and how those eyes that had once been beautiful, where full of hatred and disdain when Arthur didn't behave as Francis wanted in public. Their love had faded away over the years.
Arthur sighed sadly and pushed Francis away. He walked over to his nightstand and grabbed the white gloves that laid there. He put them on, without looking back, and was about to talk some sense into the Frenchman when he heard voices from the other room and stood still, listening closely to what they said, he put one finger in the air, signalling Francis to be quiet "Michelle, is Arthur ready?" Marianne asked to her maid, who didn't know what to say. She had seen Monsieur Francis enter Arthur's room, and they had been there for quite a while
"Ah... um..." she stuttered, thinking of a good way to cover for her boss and her other boss' future husband. Marianne looked at her with questioning eyes as she fixed her opera gloves "Well, I think Mister Arthur must be taking a bath" she lied, although she didn't feel bad about lying to Mademoiselle Marianne, because she was, in every aspect of the word, a bitch. She wouldn't do that to her brother or Mister Arthur, and she knew they had had a very beautiful love story, she had been witness of that, when they both were at the house in Paris. All she wanted was for everything to be like before.
Marianne huffed and went over to Arthur's bedroom's door. When the Englishman heard the approaching footsteps, he quickly shoved his fiancée's older brother into the bathroom and closed the door. He fixed his clothing and his hair and heard two knocks on the door. He took his time in walking over and opening it, facing an impatient Marianne "I see that you are ready, and just in time. Let's go" she said, boldly opening the door.
Arthur stepped back reluctantly, allowing her to enter the room. Michelle, from the other room, was looking through the door and wondering where the hell had Monsieur Francis gone "Let's go, then" Arthur said as Marianne linked her arm with his' and practically walked him out of the room and into the corridor, where several well-dressed couples were walking over to the staircase on their way to the dining room. Arthur nodded at several gentlemen he knew and Marianne smiled at other ladies. Typical hypocritical upper-class stuff.
As Arthur and Marianne were on their way and the bugler announced dinner like in all British ships, which was annoying to the Americans because they weren't accustomed, it seemed, Michelle ran to Arthur's room and looked around and under the table "Monsieur Francis, are you here?" she called and Francis, with his ear against the door, was enormously glad that the coast was clear. He opened the door and came out to the bathroom, surprising Michelle "Oh, thank God. They are gone to dinner, they won't be returning in two hours I presume" she said as she walked the Frenchman out of his British lover's bedroom.
Francis then asked Tino to bring them dinner and they ate on the private promenade deck, talking about the sudden engagement of Arthur and Marianne, who were, in turn, sitting in a large table with, among others, Countess van Rijn. Arthur had a blank look on his face and he was immersed in thoughts about Francis, their breakup, the engagement and all that had happened in the space of a couple of days, as dinner continued, the musicians played "Glow Worm" of the opera Lysistrata – a song he hadn't heard in ages – and the stuck-up snob talked about their wealth and how they had managed to get wealthier over a short amount of time destroying some natives' villages or killing some poor animals' ecosystem.
Alfred, who hadn't been able to get the Brit out of his head ever since he politely kicked him out with a hard-to-believe excuse, was sitting in his table looking back at Arthur while his gang and a couple other people were engaged in mild chatter and the waiters served them all kind of exotic and elegant food Alfred, in spite of being son of a rich iron tycoon, was not accustomed to. He wished he could have asked the waiter to bring him a hamburger with fries, but, unfortunately, that wasn't on the menu. That's why he preferred the Parisian Café; it was less snobby than the main dining saloon.
"Will you excuse me?" Arthur said, in a very soft, almost inaudible voice, and eyes so blank that could have scared anyone. All the people in the table allowed him to leave, naturally, but Marguerite was worried for her friend. Marianne, in spite of being his future wife, cared more about the scandal of John Jacob Astor's young wife, Madeleine's pregnancy than about him. When he was leaving, Arthur put his hands over Marguerite's shoulders and she smiled fondly up at him and put her hands over his'. He smiled sadly and left the dining saloon as fast as he could, without running, because he was a proper gentleman.
Alfred saw Arthur leave and his fiancée give two shits about it, so he decided to follow him, but he wanted to wait in order to avoid it looking like he was following him, especially after the way that the woman had looked at him and, obviously, forcing Arthur to close the door in his face, back in their stateroom. He looked at his watch and waited a couple of minutes before leaving the table and going the direction he had seen the Brit going.
Arthur gripped the railings until his knuckles turned white. He was crying so hard that he could hardly see as he looked down at the propellers, swallowing the ocean's dark waters. It was terribly cold outside, but he was burning with anger and frustration, and couldn't care less about the chilly air. He was thinking of Francis.
How could he have left him the way he had and then make a dazzling comeback in his life? How could he have hurt him so much in the past? Granted, Arthur was not angel either, but Francis had broken his heart so terribly that now... he was afraid he had lost the ability to love altogether.
"Arthur"
Someone would prove him wrong.