Note: This chapter is a bit longer. Please review if you like it or even if you don't.

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Robert let his fingers trail on the curved railings of the grand staircase, feeling like he was eight years old again. He'd counted the steps, the first time he'd walked down them, and then promptly forgotten how many there were. It seemed like a stupid, pointless bit of information now.

The clock was still working too, which surprised him. The intricately carved hands still ticking their way slowly around the clock face, and oddly, they drew Robert's thoughts once again back to Elizabeth.

Time. We should have had more time.

There was so much they'd never talked about; so much he should have found out about her life.

But. There. Was. No. More. Time.

"Hey! Wait!"

Robert looked over his shoulder and saw, to his mild surprise, the blonde stewardess tearing along the hall after him, her long skirts whipping around her legs and her cheeks flushed from her running.

A little confused, he stopped and waited for her, leaning against a cream coloured corridor wall and running a hand through his dark hair in an attempt to smooth it down a little.

A valet must always be neat and orderly; both outwardly and inwardly.

Well, that advice would be useful to this girl, at any rate, he thought, slightly nastily. Her hair, though pinned back in the correct fashion, seemed to be doing its best to curl itself into the shape of a bird's nest, reminding him of a picture he had once seen of Medusa and her snakes. And though her clothes were obviously new, they were as rumpled and creased as if she had been wearing them for a week. There was even what looked like a brown soup stain on her left sleeve, and Robert eyed it with the critical, assessing stare born of eight years in service.

The girl thumped to a stop beside him, tripping a little over her own feet as she did so and muttering a few words that Robert, thankfully, didn't hear clearly.

She was, apparently, aware of his scrutiny…

"Had your eyeful yet?" she asked, in an annoyed tone of voice and her hands sternly on her hips.

Robert flinched back slightly from the heat of her glare, a little wounded by her words. As if he'd ever- well, he wouldn't.

"Salt," he blurted out, before he could stop himself.

Her frown deepened, a little groove appearing between her eye brows.

"What?"

Robert felt himself start to redden in embarrassment, as he realized that she must think that he was mad.

"To get the stain out," he said, gesturing to her sleeve "You've got to rub it with salt. Er, it's a trick my grandmother taught me..."

He trailed off realizing that he was starting to babble, but the girl's expression had softened at his explanation, and she smiled at him. She really has a very nice smile, Robert thought, blinking. Her whole face just...lights up.

"Thanks," she said, sounding genuinely grateful "I was terrified that someone would notice it and get me in trouble. I've been walking around with my hands clasped behind my back all morning to try and hide the blasted thing."

Robert laughed at this, and was surprised by how natural it felt. The tension that had been in the air had all but disappeared, and he was very glad that it had. Still, he couldn't imagine this girl being terrified of anything, let alone getting in trouble…

"I have a knack for spotting stains," he said, grinning "Which comes in handy. I'm Robert, by the way. Robert Stratford."

"Elizabeth Howard, stewardess and vase-breaker onboard the good ship Titanic," she replied, mock saluting "Pleasure to make your acquaintance Robert," she paused for a moment before going on "And listen, I'm sorry for banging you with that door yesterday."

"It's fine," Robert said, wincing as he thought about the ten inch long mottled purple bruise that he had discovered between his shoulder blades afterwards "And I'm sorry for making you drop that vase. There, we're even."

"No, but you're going to pay for it, so that doesn't count. I still owe you one."

Something about that sentence made Robert feel decidedly uncomfortable and oddly elated at the same time, and he tried to brush the feeling away.

"You can make it up to me later," he said, doing his best to shrug off the debt.

"Fine," Elizabeth said, raising her hands in a gesture of defeat "Anyway, I came to thank you for taking the blame and…" she paused as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a pair of now slightly crumpled silk gloves which she thrust into Robert's hand "To bring you these."

Robert stared blankly at the gloves for a minute or two, before he remembered the story he had hastily made up to explain his entry into the state rooms.

"Oh-um- yes," he said, weakly "Thank you."

Elizabeth burst out laughing; not the refined tittering Robert was used to hearing from ladies like Mme. Aubert, but a proper, loud guffaw of amusement.

"I knew it!" she chortled, clutching her sides as her shoulders shook with mirth "I knew you were lying! Why were you there, then?"

Robert, who hadn't found it that funny, raised his eyebrows at her until she managed to straighten up and regain her composure.

"A-hem. I heard you singing and wanted to see who it was," he explained "I liked the song."

"Oh, that? That's just The Rye Song. I'll teach it to you sometime."

Robert wondered if that meant that she intended to talk to him again, and found himself hoping very much that this was the case.

"Well," Elizabeth said, after a moment of silence "I'd best get back to work. I suppose I'll see you about."

"Er, right," Robert said, feeling a little disappointed "Um, goodbye."

They stared at each other for a minute or two, both seemingly debating whether or not to say more. Finally, Elizabeth shook herself and turned to go.

"Good bye, Robert," she said, over her shoulder "It was nice meeting you."

As she stepped away from him, presumably to rejoin her redheaded friend, Robert saw a piece of white paper, bearing a typed heading, lying on the floor where she had been standing, and he bent to pick it up.

"Hello," Elizabeth heard Robert say, behind her "What's this?"

Oh no. It's one of The Pamphlets. He's found it. It must've slipped out of my pocket when I took those gloves out, and he's found it. Damn, damn, damn, damn.

She turned around and saw to her horror that he'd picked it up off the floor and was staring at the title with a frown.

"It's mine!' Elizabeth said, snatching the pamphlet away from him, but she knew that he'd have had time to read what it said on the front.

The Vote: A Woman's Right.

And directly underneath, a picture of a ballot box.

"Yours?" he repeated, looking at her with that same, puzzled frown.

Elizabeth pressed the Woman's Rights pamphlet to her chest, staring at Robert with as much defiance as she could muster.

"Yes, mine,' she said, forcefully "Women ought to have a say in how their country is governed! We're as capable of rational thought and intelligence as men, and often more so!' She remembered her audience and added "Present company excluded, of course."

Elizabeth waited for Robert to comment, realizing that she couldn't stand the idea of him, especially, dismissing the cause she was so devoted to. Which was ridiculous, she told herself. They'd only just met, and their relationship consisted above all of her making a fool of herself…

Why should it matter to her what he thought?

But it did, and nothing could have prepared her for what his response.

"I agree. I agree, completely."

Elizabeth felt her mouth fall open as she gawped in surprise at her new friend. Was he making fun of her?

"You-you do?" she said, a tad lamely.

'Yes," he said, simply "I do. It seems to me that it's ridiculous not to give women the vote. You're human beings, too. And, as you so eloquently said, capable of at least as much intelligence as us."

"You really thi-" Elizabeth began, but was cut off by a most unwelcome interruption.

"Hey, Elizabeth! Stop spooning and come help me carry these blankets, will you?"

Elizabeth wheeled around to see Henry, a steward she had eaten breakfast with, earlier that day, stagger past, carrying an enormous heap of linens. Behind her, Robert began to protest, but she shook her head, grinning.

"Look," she hissed "Tomorrow morning, come down and meet me in the crew's quarters, all right? We can talk more there."

He nodded, apparently still smarting from the 'spooning' remark.

You couldn't help liking someone as stiff and gentlemanly as that, could you?

Elizabeth gave him a wink, then hurried off to help Henry before he collapsed under the weight of his burden.

"God help us, Henry, but you'll pay for that little comment you will. Me and who's army, you say? The cheek! Well, just you wait and see, mate…"