Thank you all for continuing to read and review. It means a lot! – PB

Chapter Four

Sunday, April 7, 1912

"How will you be spending your day today, miss?" Esther was bustling about the room, getting all of the brushes and combs laid out on the vanity, ready to be used, and draping the long dress that she and Cate had decided upon the night before over the chair. Cate rolled over in her bed, burying the side of her face in the soft pillow.

"I don't know," said Cate when she mustered enough energy to speak. "I've no one to see, which is actually a bit of a relief, so I feel I shall be quite useless today."

"Shall I have breakfast brought up, miss?" Esther asked cheerfully. Cate found it hard to believe that anyone could be so cheerful before noon. "Or would you like to eat out?"

Cate thought for a moment. In Philadelphia, her grandparents had never allowed neither Cate nor Lillian to eat out at restaurants, despite the fact that they were quite fashionable; their grandparents were rather conservative and were convinced that eating out in public was not appropriate. She'd obviously not had much of a chance whilst attending boarding school in Oxford, having been mostly confined to the school building and grounds, and of course, it wasn't something done back home in Scotland, not when there was so many more important things money upon which should be spent. It seemed that the world had been, so far, content in shutting her away. Without Lillian to hide behind, it was the first time she would really be able to step out into the light as it were.

"Miss Cate?" Esther prompted when she received no response.

With a bit of effort, Cate sat up, her hair in total disarray atop her head, her lids heavy. She winced when Esther pulled back the heavy drapes covering the large windows, letting in copious amounts of light, though the sun was hidden behind a blanket of silver clouds.

"I'm sorry, Esther," Cate muttered, still feeling a bit groggy. "I suppose I'll go out to eat. Or… I don't know…" She sighed as she pushed the bedclothes from her body and swung her legs over the side. "Perhaps that is a bit excessive."

"I'm sure the decision is yours to make, miss," Esther said gently. "Your grandparents give you an allowance, don't they?"

Cate nodded.

"Then you should spend it as you wish, especially while you've got the freedom to do so." Cate supposed that Esther would never have spoken to Lillian like this when she was working for her; Lillian would never have allowed it, she would have viewed it as impertinent for a lady's maid to speak in such a way. Cate, however, appreciated it.

"Thank you," she said. "I appreciate it, Esther. I'm afraid I often need a little push before I go out the door."

Esther smiled. "I'm happy to give you all the pushes you need, miss. Shall we get you ready, then?"

"Of course." Cate stood and shed her dressing gown, mentally and physically preparing herself to be laced into her corset. She held onto one of the bedposts as Esther tightened the strings, grunting a bit with the effort, as Cate felt herself only able to take smaller and smaller breaths until, finally, she felt like she was being squeezed by a vice and Esther declared that she had finished.

As Esther went to retrieve a dress from the wardrobe, Cate sighed.

"Do you know," she said, "there is a great part of me that wishes I could stay indoors, only because I can't be bothered with the petticoats, and the corsets, and the intricate dresses that are required for going on a simple walk." She paused. "You probably find that very shameful, don't you?"

Esther chuckled as she returned with the long skirt and fitted bodice, both in a pale blue, with white lace on the front on a broach nestled at her throat. It was beautiful and elegant, made to look as if Cate had the hourglass figure that all women were told they should have.

"Of course not, miss," said Esther. "Everyone desires a bit of a break every once and a while. There's nothing wrong with that."

As she pulled on her short, white gloves once she was dressed, Esther fetched her white parasol. The entire act of dressing seemed like an incredibly exhausting affair when, truly, all she was planning on doing was strolling around Southampton and perhaps reading in a park. Unfortunately, her beaded handbag wasn't quite large enough to hold her book, which meant she would again receive strange looks from the passerby when they saw her novel with its bright yellow paper and the word "DRACULA" emblazoned in red across the top.

After saying goodbye to Esther, Cate made her way down to the main lobby of the hotel, nodded at the concierge, and walked out into the brisk Southampton air. It was cold, but not too cold to sit in the park for a bit, and she didn't feel quite ready to eat anything, never having been one for breakfast. The park wasn't too far away from the South Western Hotel, but far enough away that she felt like she had gone on a bit of an adventure. It was the park she had always visited when she managed to pull Lillian away from her gossip and tea, but her sister hated sitting still and hated reading even more. Even if Cate had managed to drag Lillian to the park, her reading was always constantly interrupted by Lillian making comments and impatiently asking if they could leave.

The moment Cate opened her book and found her place, she was lost. She sat at a wooden bench, fairly close to a lake upon which there were ducks floating, with children in their tweed caps throwing breadcrumbs at them, their mothers and governesses watching from a short distance away, sometimes alone, sometimes with a baby buggy or perhaps their husband in a bowler cap. But Cate paid them no attention, so immersed was she in the world created by Bram Stoker, a terrifying world of vampires and other creatures of the night. A terribly risqué world, too, as it were.

"Are you following me, Miss Murdoch?"

Cate looked up, startled from her book, to see James Moody standing before her, a rather mischievous look on his face, as if he was delighted to have given her a fright. She smiled ruefully.

"I was here first, Mr. Moody," Cate pointed out. "Don't you have work to do?"

"I do," James admitted. "May I join you?"

"Please."

James sat down on the opposite side of the bench as Cate closed her book. She was surprised at how reluctant she did not feel to do so. It was rare that anyone could tear her willingly from a book, but it was as if James was holding out a hand to pull her from stormy seas.

"Are you still enjoying your book?" James asked, nodding at the copy in her lap.

"I am," said Cate with another smile. "I've never read anything like it. You should give it a try."

"I would like nothing more," said James, "if only I had the money to buy it and the time to read it."

Cate flushed. She felt like a fool, first lamenting at the effort required to take a walk when Esther worked hard all day as a lady's maid and now for not even thinking about the fact that a ship's officer could hardly spend money on frivolities like a novel, never mind have the time to read one. Her own father had been an officer all her life; she knew better than most about their lifestyle, but now she sounded like a spoiled rich girl with nothing better to do than read. But wasn't that the truth?

"I'm sorry," Cate said after a moment. "I wasn't thinking."

"It's quite alright, Cath," James replied with an easy smile. "I'm not bashful about having little money, and I don't begrudge you for having a lot of it."

Cate wanted to insist that she didn't have any money, that every note in her handbag was given to her by her grandparents, that every dress, parasol, and glove was bought by them, that her hotel room was paid for by them, as was her ticket aboard the Titanic. Cate didn't want to explain her curious circumstances, why the daughter of a ship's officer should be traveling in First Class, but she was curious as to why he wasn't curious, even though it wouldn't be proper for him to ask such questions.

"I wouldn't say I have a lot," Cate said at last. "But my grandparents do, I won't deny it."

"Your maternal grandparents," James confirmed.

Cate nodded, gazing off at the small lake. "Yes. My father's family lives a completely different lifestyle, I must say. One that I rather envy."

James raised his eyebrows, not bothering to hide his surprise. "Do you?"

Cate looked at him. "I do," she said. "Very much."

"Catharine."

Now it was Will who stood before them, not looking at all pleased. James jumped to his feet, no longer looking like a jovial chap, but like the serious officer he was.

"Mr. Murdoch," he said with a nod of his head.

Will nodded at him, but it was Cate to whom he gave the longest look, his blue eyes stern, his mouth set in a straight line, all indications that she recognized from her childhood that she was in some sort of trouble.

"Hello, Da," Cate said, pleased to see him despite his evident irritation. Indeed, her tone seemed to soften him just a bit.

"I must get on," said James. "I'll see you aboard, sir."

When Will nodded, he turned to Cate. She half-expected him to kiss her hand like he had done the day before, but he held out his own to shake. She took it with faint disappointment.

"It was a pleasure to see you again, Miss Alton," he said, sounding more formal than she had ever heard him.

"And you, Mr. Moody."

James nodded at Will again. "Sir."

When he was gone, Will took the seat he had vacated. It was moment before he spoke; for a bit he merely sat there, his elbows on his thighs, his fingers partially laced together, staring at the ground before him. When did finally speak, Cate found herself wishing he hadn't.

"You can't spend so much time with members of the crew," he said finally.

Cate raised her eyebrows, taken aback; it had been quite a long time since her father had given her a direct order. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time it had happened. "Can't I?" she said incredulously.

Will looked at her, his face serious. "No," he said. "You can't."

Her left eyebrow grew even higher as her defiance grew stronger. "Aren't you a member of the crew?" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Perhaps you should leave lest any of the other parkgoers start to whisper."

"Don't speak to me that way," Will snapped. "You know what I mean, Catharine."

"I'm afraid I don't," Cate replied coolly, growing even more angry at his refusal to use her nickname, something he only did when she was in trouble. She didn't feel she quite deserved it, being eighteen and a grown woman. "If I were speaking to someone else, would it matter? If I was speaking to a peer like my grandfather? Must he be a viscount or an earl to be worthy of my attention? Or perhaps he need only be a millionaire?"

"Stop it," Will hissed. "Quite apart from the fact that it is improper for an unmarried man and woman to be alone together, a ship's crewman is not supposed to mingle with passengers; it is quite inappropriate."

"Alone together?" Cate repeated. "We're in a park surrounded by ducks and children. And in any case, that never stopped you, did it?"

Cate regretted the words the moment they left her mouth. But she felt so angry to be told off by her father, forbidden from even speaking to James in a place as public as a park. What was the harm in that? For a moment, Will quite looked like he wanted to shout at her, or even hit her across the face, though he'd never done such a thing in her life. He had always been quick to anger, something both she and her sister had inherited. It was a while before he spoke. When he did, he sounded quite calm.

"I don't deserve to be spoken to in such a manner," he said, looking at her. "And you know that. I want what's best for you, Catey, why is that so hard to believe?"

A million answers sprang to her lips, but she swallowed all of them. When he stood, she joined him.

"Will you still join me for dinner?" he asked, smoothing his coat.

"Of course," said Cate, feeling quite ashamed. "If you'll have me."

"I'd have no one else," Will said with a smile she thought looked rather sad. He stepped forward to kiss her cheek. "I'll see you tonight, lass."

He started to walk away, leaving Cate to watch him go, but he stopped halfway down the path and turned back to her.

"I meant what I said, Cate," he said. "You're not to see him again."

Cate had never been a defiant person; that was always Lillian's territory, always one to scream when she was younger or resort to angry silences when she was older. But Cate had always preferred to avoid conflict, and never saw the point in arguing when she knew she wouldn't win, especially against her formidable grandparents in Philadelphia. Yet as she dressed for dinner that evening, her thoughts were swirling in a storm in her head. Surely there was nothing improper about being friends with someone just because he was a man or because had less money than she. She genuinely liked James and enjoyed his company immensely. And despite her feelings of unease at going against her father's wishes, she silently resolved that she would not avoid him. And that was that.

She had debated whether or not she should dress as one normally would when meeting someone for dinner, even in the comfort of one's own suite, or to wear the simplest ensemble she owned so as to make her father feel more at ease; she knew he would be uncomfortable dining at the South Western. Yet, still feeling bitterly angry about the events that transpired in the park, she decided to push it all in his face, this life he had chosen for her and the one he seemed to think deemed necessary that she be disallowed to talk to a ship's officer. Esther was surprised when Cate picked out her evening gown of dark cerulean silk, blue chiffon overlaying the skirt, a high-waisted velvet band in dark blue, and a pink rosette in the center of the chest, but she helped her dress without complaint.

"It will help us practice for when I'm on the Titanic," Cate said, placing a hand over the rosette and trying to breathe normally in spite of the corset as she sat at the vanity and Esther styled her hair. "I'll have to dress up each night for dinner."

"This is true," said Esther, sliding in yet another pin to hold the hair in place. "I was just surprised, miss, since I know it's your father coming for dinner."

Cate met her gaze in the glass for a moment before looking away, at some spot on the room in the reflection. "I like to look my best for him," she said vaguely.

But Esther smiled as yet another pin went in. "That's very nice, miss," she said.

When she was dressed, a necklace with a small sapphire pendant nestled at her collarbones and matching earrings dangling from her ears, she stood up from the vanity and glanced at the clock. Will arrived at his daughter's hotel suite at half-past seven, right on schedule, no longer in his officer's uniform, but a simple gray suit. Esther hurried out into the parlor to answer his knock while Cate remained in the bedroom for a moment, feeling inexplicably nervous. It was just dinner, after all. Dinner with her father, her favorite person in the world. At this thought, her insides gave a guilty lurch; if he was her favorite person, then why was she going to so much trouble to make him uncomfortable?

Nevertheless, it was too late to change now. And so, after a moment, Cate started to leave the room but paused when she reached the door and heard her father speaking with Esther out in the parlor.

"Oh, you were Lillian's maid?" Will was saying, sounding surprised. "I didn't realize that. Why did you come here to help Cate, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Lord and Lady Cowanshire… requested it, sir," said Esther. "They told me that Miss Cate needed a lady's maid for the voyage and that I was to assist her, so I sailed over on the RMS Adriatic and met her in Dalbeattie. They hired a different maid for Miss Lillian."

Cate could picture Will smiling at the mention of the place of his birth and childhood. "And how did you find Dalbeattie?" he asked.

"It is beautiful, sir," Esther said earnestly. "I was sorry to go. As was Miss Cate… as I'm sure you know."

Will paused. "Yes," he said at last. "I know. Cate always loved it there, more than her sister ever did, I imagine."

Cate couldn't take it anymore. She left the bedroom and found Will sitting on an armchair in the parlor and Esther standing near the door. Her maid looked up when she entered and Will stood.

"Dinner will be brought up soon, miss," she said.

"Very good," said Cate with a nod. "Thank you."

Esther gave a brief nod and walked into the other room of the suite. Will stared at his daughter for a moment, not bothering to hide his surprise.

"You look beautiful," he said at last.

Cate smiled. "Thank you. I thought I'd make a bit of an effort."

Further surprise was evident on his face. "There's no need to make an effort for me," he said.

"Oh, but of course there is," Cate said flippantly, sitting down on the floral-patterned settee. "Grandfather and Grand-mère sent me all sorts of dresses, and gowns, and jewels, so I must wear them." She met her father's gaze. "It wouldn't be proper, otherwise."

Will looked the faintest bit annoyed. "Of course not," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"After all," Cate continued, hating herself yet unable to stop, "you wanted me to have the best life possible, didn't you? That's why you sent us to America—"

"I didn't send you—" Will began, but Cate continued, ignoring him.

"—to live with two people who don't give tuppence about us, so long as we uphold the honor of the Alton name and the Cowanshire title, of course—"

"Cate—"

"—which includes marrying a very wealthy man, whether we love him or not, so long as he is a millionaire, or the heir to a millionaire. Because if Lord and Lady Cowanshire say we should marry him, then of course, we head straight down the aisle to appease them—"

"Catharine!" Will said loudly, finally forcing her to stop. She had been speaking more and more loudly and quickly, growing quite agitated. "What on earth has gotten into you?"

Cate was breathing heavily. Her cheeks were flushed and she felt on the verge of tears. She looked at her father for a moment, her chin trembling, for she stood quickly. Will did the same.

"I…" she stammered. But she could say nothing else. She turned and hurried into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Cate expected to hear her father leave, but a moment later he had entered the bedroom and was taking his daughter, enfolding her in his arms as she cried into his chest. He rubbed her back, whispering that everything would be okay, just as he always had when she was a little girl and she had fallen and scraped her knee or he was preparing to leave on another voyage.

"I love you, Catey," he said quietly as her tears began to subside, though she kept her face buried in his chest. "I think of little else other than you and your sister. When we're apart, I miss you both so much I feel I should burst." He paused. "I know your life isn't easy. And I'm sorry if you've not been happy… but everything I have done is for you and Lilly. Your mother's parents can give you a much better life than ever possible if we had all stayed in Scotland and lived without their help."

"But we would have been happy," Cate whispered, pulling back so she could look at him. "You, Lillian, and I… we all would have been happy together, even without piles of money from the Altons every month, exclusive boarding schools in Oxford, and etiquette lessons from a governess in Philadelphia."

"They are able to give you a real future," said Will, reaching up to place a hand on her cheek. "They can give you so much more than I can. It's for the best, Catey, I know it."

Once Cate managed to dry her tears and realize that Will wasn't going to see things from her perspective, at least not yet, they went back into the parlor for dinner. Will, always one to shove things under the rug, chatted about the upcoming voyage and about Lillian's upcoming wedding, but Cate felt subdued.

"What's this man like?" Will asked, clearly protective about the man who was about to marry his daughter. "It feels so strange for her to be marrying someone I've never met."

Cate shrugged. "C'est la vie," she drawled, "isn't it? His name is Daniel Norcross, and he's the younger son of the owners of a hotel chain, so he's not an heir, but he's got a decent amount of money coming."

Will raised his eyebrows. "I asked what he was like, not how much he had."

"It all comes down to the same thing in my world," said Cate, "or my grandparents' world, at any rate. Anyway, he's nice enough, I suppose. He seems a bit jovial for Lillian's taste, though."

"And does she love him?"

"Who knows what on earth goes on in Lillian's head?" said Cate, rolling her eyes. "She's so picky and hot one moment and cold the next. But I think so, or at least she likes him, which is enough for Grandfather and Grand-mère."

"I thought you said it wouldn't matter if you liked him," said Will, cocking an eyebrow and looking at her, "that if your grandparents chose him, then you had no choice?"

"Lillian is a bit more hard-headed than I," Cate replied coolly. "I don't think she'd marry a man she couldn't stand to be around, but she understands the importance of a smart match, and money, and as long as he is handsome, what's not to like?"

Will sighed. "You make your sister sound quite shallow."

"I don't make her sound shallow, Da. She is shallow."

As usual, Will immediately looked stern, as if he wanted to send her to her room.

"There's no need to be so unkind, Cate—"

"There's every need," said Cate, sipping her red wine from its crystal glass. "You'd understand if you knew her better."

For a moment, Will looked as if she had slapped him across the face. He set his napkin down on his plate. "I wish I did," he said after a moment. "I don't seem to know you half as well as I thought, either." He sighed. "Catey, what is it? I haven't seen you in nearly a year. You've just spend several months in Scotland, which I thought you would enjoy, but now you're so melancholy and… frankly, lass, I've never seen you so angry or heard you speak so hurtfully."

Cate felt herself start to resign. There was no point in continuing to argue with him while he continued to believe that he had done what was best. She had never argued with him in the past about the life he had chosen for his daughters, but now that this life was staring her in the face as she prepared to move forever to Philadelphia and leave her true home behind, she felt she had no other choice. She was abandoning everything she had ever loved, so why not abandon the person she had once been? Will wanted his sweet, mild-mannered daughter back, but Cate wasn't sure she existed anymore.

"Do you remember," she said after a moment, "the beautiful sewing box you brought me from one of your voyages when I was a little girl?"

Will seemed a bit taken aback by the change of subject, but he nodded. "Yes," he said. "The one from Shanghai. I got one for both you and Lilly... it was my first voyage after…"

"After you left us in Philadelphia," Cate finished for him, "when we were six."

"It was only until Christmas," Will said softly. "I knew you girls were well looked after, so I signed on as First Officer aboard the J. Joyce & Co. It seemed perfect… I left straight from New York and continued there and back to China until it was time to see you and Lilly for Christmas. I didn't know what to get you... now I know you would have preferred a book, but you couldn't read at the time… and this lovely old woman was selling these sewing boxes with such intricate designs and pictures. Perhaps I should have gotten you a toy instead; you and Lilly didn't really know what to do with them at the time."

"I still have mine," said Cate, smiling slightly at his reminiscing. "I take it with me everywhere. I carry all of my most prized possessions in it."

"Like what?"

"My diary, for one thing," Cate replied with another smile. "And… many of the trinkets and gifts you brought us over the years, like the statue of a giraffe from Cape Town when I was seven, or the necklace from New York when I was thirteen. I even have the soft toy you gave me when I was ten… the one named for Theodore Roosevelt… the teddy bear. Although he doesn't fit in the sewing box, I must admit."

Will chuckled. "Lilly was so put out that I didn't bring you girls anything interesting that year, or so she said. But I saw the toy bear in the window of a shop and I knew you girls had to have one."

"I named mine William," Cate said after a moment. "I read him stories from Peter Pan and Through the Looking Glass, and I slept with him every night for years. It was like having you with me again, as if you could look through his glass black eyes and see me."

Will said nothing. He could only look at her sadly.

"But do you know what my favorite thing in the box is?" said Cate.

"What's that, lass?"

"It's a small trinket of a Scottish terrier."

Will cocked his head to the side. "I don't recall—"

"No, it wasn't a gift from you," Cate said quickly. "I found it when I went to the market with Papa when I was eight. Lillian thought they were ugly, but I thought it was so sweet, and I was prepared to buy it with my own allowance, but Papa insisted on getting it for me since I liked it so much. It reminds me of being home. I feel as if, when I ever I hold it in my hand, I'm back there in our cottage, and you're reading in your armchair in front of the fire, and Lillian is playing with her doll on the rug. And we're all so blissfully happy and thoroughly lower class that nothing else seems to matter but the three of us."

"Thoroughly lower class," Will repeated with a chortle. "Catey, have you been in your gilded world for so long that you've forgotten what lower class even is? We would never have been able to afford a cottage like that without the monthly stipend from your grandparents. That life was thoroughly middle class—"

"But Nana and Papa—"

"—have worked long and hard," Will interrupted, "both of them, to get to where they are now. But I was displaced from work after bringing you girls back from Canada, and we lived with my parents because I couldn't get enough work as a laborer to provide for the three of us. When your mother died, her parents were the ones who made it so we could buy that cottage, as well as hire a woman to cook and care for you girls when I wasn't there." He paused. "I was young, lass, only twenty when I learned that I was a father to twin girls across the sea. Without your Nana and Papa, we would have lived on the streets, and without your Grandfather and Grand-mère, you wouldn't have any of those prized possessions you mentioned, we certainly wouldn't be sitting in this beautiful hotel suite, and you wouldn't have a quid to your name. And this is the 'lower class' life you so long for?"

"But we could have been happy," Cate insisted. "A life with money doesn't automatically equal a happy one—"

"This coming from the young woman who has scarcely lived without it," Will said gently. "Money may not equal happiness, my darling, but it can guarantee that you are taken care of and that you are safe from hardships. And that is what I have always wanted for my daughters."

Will left that evening with the promise that he would meet Cate for tea the next day, but that he could not linger, as there would be much to do aboard the ship. Cate was glad she had had a chance to have such a long conversation with her father, but she couldn't help but feel that the entire evening had been fruitless. She hadn't changed his mind at all, and he still thought that her moving to Philadelphia permanently to marry a rich, faceless stranger was better than living back in Scotland and marrying a farm hand. When he had gone and Esther had helped her undress and get ready for bed, and Cate found herself alone in her room, she walked over to the vanity, and gently lifted the lid from her Chinese sewing box.

There, nestled within, were all of the items of which she had spoken to Will. The necklace, the diary, the giraffe statuette from South Africa, and the thing she had not mentioned: the letter she had torn into quarters just before leaving the cottage in Dalbeattie. Slowly, she picked up the pieces and glanced at their contents. "Dear Catharine…" "…our original intention was for you to sail in mid-June…" "…have now decided to book for you a passage onboard the RMS Titanic…""…early April…" "…be sure to pack all your things, as you will not return to Scotland…" "…Sincerely, Grand-mère…" Cate felt a lump rising within her throat and her lower lip trembling. So her grandparents thought a First Class trip aboard the RMS Titanic for her maiden voyage would be such good publicity for a debutante that she should leave her home and loved ones two months early? This was the life her father had wanted for her?

Perhaps Lillian was right; perhaps it was best to lock away one's emotions so that no one could ever know what you were truly thinking. Lillian was just as angry about what she called their "father's abandonment," but she had resorted to chilling silences and dirty looks, rather than trying to explain her feelings and making him see reason. Perhaps it was just best to give up. Without a backward glance, Cate tossed the four pieces of the letter into the fire lit in the grate where, she assumed, the curled in on themselves and turned black from the outside in.