Chapter Ten
Friday, April 12, 1912
After her father left, Cate sat down on the edge of her bed, staring blankly at the floor. Waves of nausea rolled through her, and for a moment, she thought she was going to be sick. She had blatantly lied to her father, to his face, about where she had been. She had never lied to him before, and now she couldn't stop lying to him, just so she could be with James. But… it was James, she reasoned with herself; the only way she could be with him was if she continued to lie to Will, because he would surely tear them apart if he found out the truth. And though the image of James' face in her mind's eye and the memory of his lips on hers caused her heart to flutter and feel lighter, the guilt continued to surge through her. While she was with him, her life felt blissfully beautiful and uncomplicated, but the moment he left, reality came crashing down upon her: that she was lying to her father and that she was to arrive in America in just a few short days, probably never to see James again.
Cate lay down, closing her eyes and trying to sleep, doing her best to ignore the churning of her stomach and how hot her skin felt, all symptoms of when she felt terribly guilty about something. And though she tossed and turned, pulling the covers up to her chest one moment and kicking them off the next, sleep would not come. By the time Esther's soft knock sounded on the door, Cate felt quite haggard and ready to throw something. Nevertheless, she bade the maid enter and stood dutifully, ready for her bath to be drawn and to be made up like a doll.
"Are you quite alright, miss?" Esther asked later as she artfully pinned up Cate's hair. "You don't seem yourself today."
Their eyes met in the mirror's reflection. Cate trusted Esther, far more than she had ever trusted Lillian, but still she felt nervous about confessing her secrets. Beth had always cattily said that one should never confide in servants, as they would run to confide said secrets in someone else the moment one turned one's back. Then again, Beth had never really seen her servants as actual people, whereas Cate genuinely liked Esther and appreciated her help and company. There seemed to be a quiet wisdom to her that Cate admired, and she seemed to be much more level-headed than she, though they were around the same age.
"I've got a lot on my mind," Cate admitted, continuing to look at her through the mirror. "I feel like my life is splitting into two directions, and though I want to go one way, I simply… can't. It's maddening."
Esther shrugged as she slid a beautiful, art nouveau comb that resembled a peacock into Cate's hair. "Why can't you?" she said. "It's your life, isn't it? Even if it may be difficult, surely you can decide for yourself what you want your life to be."
"Can I?" Cate said wearily. "You and James both seem to think so, but I'm afraid it's not that simple."
A hint of surprise flashed across Esther's face. "James, Miss?"
Immediately, felt herself grow hot, and she avoided Esther's gaze in the mirror.
"He…" Cate swallowed. "He's… a young man I met whilst in Southampton. He's… an officer aboard Titanic, as a matter of fact."
"I see," said Esther, delicately shaping Cate's hair with the palms of her hands. "And you're friends with Mr. James?"
Cate smiled, both at her calling him "Mr. James" and the image of his face that had appeared in her mind's eye. But she still felt her cheeks burning.
"Yes," she said at least, toying with a brush on the vanity. "We're friends. And because he's an officer, my father does not want us to associate with one another. But… I can't seem to obey him."
Esther nodded knowingly. "And is he one of the directions your life is splitting into, Miss?"
Cate sighed slightly and set the hairbrush down. "Yes," she said. "I believe so."
"Well, Miss," said Esther, "I believe you should do what your heart tells you to, not what other people think you should do. If you truly believe that the best thing is to go one way, then you should."
But it wasn't that simple. Cate smiled and thanked Esther for her advice, but she still felt lost. Everyone expected her to live the life of a Pennsylvanian princess, to marry rich, and to be a pretty doll for the rest of her life. But a life with James, if that was even something that he would want with her, would change everything. Cate had never before truly believed in love, but when she was with James, the possibility became more and more believable.
Cate was joined for breakfast in the dining saloon by Monsieur Quigg Baxter, his mother, Hélène, his sister, Mary, and Madame Berthe de Villiers. Quigg smiled when he saw her descending the grand staircase and held his arm out for her to take.
"Mademoiselle Alton," he said, kissing her hand. "Venez prendre le déjeuner et parler français avec nous!"
Cate smiled and nervously accepted his invitation to have breakfast and speak French with them, allowing herself to be led into the saloon while Quigg talked happily to her and Berthe, who was on his other arm, about the voyage and how excited he was to show Berthe the beauty of Montréal.
"Et mademoiselle, vous connaissez Montréal, donc vous pouvez lui raconter sa beauté!" Quigg said to Cate, gesturing grandly as they arrived at their table, off toward the left of the room, near the large windows.
Cate wasn't sure how she could explain to Berthe the beauty of Montréal, and in French no less, when she had only visited a handful of times and had never done much sight-seeing. However, she grew more confident in her French-speaking abilities as the morning wore on. If she made a mistake and realized it, Quigg would smile and assure her that it was quite alright, that her French was "presque parfait," and that she spoke better than half the lads he went to school with. She learned that he had attended Loyola College in Montréal and that he had been an accomplished football and hockey player until an injury had caused him to lose sight in one eye. After that, he had decided to coach hockey instead, and had organized a tournament in Paris. Most recently, he had dropped out of McGill University to travel through Europe with his mother and sister. Where Berthe fit in, Cate wasn't certain. She was very quiet and rather mysterious, smiling slightly whenever Quigg spoke, but rarely speaking herself.
When they had finished eating and parted ways in the reception room, Cate wandered back up the stairs to the boat deck. She had never really cared for breakfast, but had found herself quite unable to decline Quigg's offer for her to join them when he looked so eager and jovial. Eating early in the morning had never sat well with Cate, and that combined with her guilt over lying to Will made Cate feel positively sick. She walked slowly along the boat deck, hoping the cool air would calm her nerves and her twisting stomach. As she walked, she found herself heading toward Cal, Rose, and Ruth, were strolling together, Cal with a cane and Ruth with a parasol.
"Hello, Mrs. Dewitt Bukater," Cate said politely as they stopped before one another. "Cal… Rose. How are you this morning?"
"Absolutely splendid," said Cal, reaching forward to kiss Cate's hand. "We'll be having luncheon with Mr. Andrews, Mrs. Brown, and Mr. Ismay—he's the owner of White Star Line—in the Palm Court. Would you care to join us?"
But the thought of eating anything more, even in several hours, made Cate want to run and hide. Not only that, as much as she liked Mr. Andrews and what she had seen of Mrs. Margaret Brown, she didn't think she could handle another lengthy meal of talking about the voyage, gossip, and Philadelphia, not when she would be obligated to do so that night at dinner—that she definitely couldn't avoid. So she smiled and politely declined, saying she had plans to join Helen Newsom and her parents at the à la carte restaurant. Why it was so much easier to lie to Cal than it was anyone else, she wasn't sure. But Cal seemed to believe her, nodding.
"Well, how about dinner tonight?" he suggested. "Unless you have plans already?"
"No, that would be lovely," said Cate. "Thank you."
Suddenly, Rose spoke up, her blue eyes suddenly alighting. "Cate, would you like to join me for some tea in the lounge? We've not yet had a chance to catch up, just the two of us."
Cate's eyes widened for a moment. Indeed, both Cal and Ruth looked fairly surprised by Rose's sudden desire for tea, but when Cate accepted, Cal smiled and slid his arm from his fiancée's.
"You ladies enjoy yourselves," he said. "Ruth, shall we?"
He held out his arm to Rose's mother, and Ruth took it. As they strolled further forward on the boat deck, Rose sighed, as if she had been holding her breath the entire time. When their eyes met, Rose gave Cate a small smile before walking in the direction of the aft grand staircase. Cate hated tea, and she never had much to say to young ladies her own age, but she was curious as to Rose's sudden desire for the two of them to "catch up," though Cate was certain they had nothing to catch up on.
The lounge was a large room with green carpet and dark, oak paneling along the walls. There were countless small, round tables surrounded by comfortable, padded chairs, and off to the side were sofas and loveseats grouped around rectangular tables. Cate and Rose sat down near the starboard windows, looking out at the promenade on A-Deck. As they sat in silence for a bit, waiting for their drinks to arrive after they had ordered, Cate looked out, just barely able to see the spot where James had kissed her the night before. Where was he at that moment, she wondered? Was he thinking of her? Or was he too busy for such things?
"I'm sorry to bother you," Rose said after a while, placing the teacup that had been given to her on the table. "But I had to get away from Mother and Cal."
Cate was a bit surprised, but she tried not to show it; the image that Rose and Cal had presented to society was that they were madly in love with one another. At least, that was the impression everyone had gotten.
"Quite alright," said Cate, taking a sip of her coffee. "Parents can be a bit overbearing, can't they?"
Rose raised her eyebrows a bit. "I thought you were an orphan?" she said quizzically.
Cate cursed silently. "I am," she said quickly. "But I meant my grandparents, really, since they raised us. And I think my grandmother is very similar to your mother."
"How unfortunate for you," said Rose, her voice a bit hollow. But then she plastered a smile on her face, clearly false. "I'm sorry," she said, smoothing out her dress. "I shouldn't talk like that. It's just… my relationship with a mother is a bit… strained."
That was not a secret. From the gossip Cate had overheard from her grandmother, Ruth and Rose were constantly bickering and getting into spats. Beth had suggested that it was because Ruth was forcing her into a marriage with Cal, but Cate couldn't see how that could be true; Rose had always struck her as the type to do what she wanted, not what others told her to.
"I understand," Cate assured her. And though she knew Rose would think she was talking about her intensely strained relationship with her grandparents, Cate was actually thinking of how strained her relationship had been with her father lately—and the guilt returned.
Cate waited for Rose to say one of the typical things—to ask about Lillian's wedding in June, to talk about the voyage thus far, the weather, the immaculate luxury of first class—but she didn't. For a while, the two young ladies sat in silence, both lost in their own thoughts and their own worlds.
"Are you alright?" Cate asked after a good amount of time, almost mirroring the question Esther had asked her that very morning.
Rose started a bit, as if surprised that Cate was still there. "I'm sorry," she said. "Sometimes I get lost in my own thoughts if given the chance. I hope you don't think I've used you as a ploy to get away from Cal and my mother; I just know that we're similar in that regard. You've never struck me as the type to talk needlessly like most of our people."
Our people. Cate realized then that, as far as Rose knew, they were both planted firmly in the same world. Rose had been born and raised in the world of luxury and money, whereas Cate had escaped it after her birth and had then been thrust back into it at the tender age of five. She had flitted in and out between the summers and holidays she had spent in Dalbeattie, longing for a simpler life, while this was all Rose knew. Everyone Cate knew acted as if money was the one thing that could guarantee happiness, but Cate didn't think she had ever seen someone look so sad as Rose did then.
"I don't see the point," said Cate. "The conversations bore me; I would much rather be on my own, reading a book or something. Honestly, if I hear someone say 'What a fantastic ship this is,' one more time, I may scream."
Rose smiled and, for the first time, it looked genuine. "I know," she said. "Cal and Mother are lapping it up, but I feel so confined here, especially with them both breathing down my neck. You don't know how lucky you are to be traveling alone."
Cate almost laughed. It was amazing how well Will managed to breathe down her neck while being busy most of the day. She was surprised that he hadn't walked in on her and James the night before when, nearly every other time she had seen him, he had caught them. And now the one time they had finally done more than talking, and he had no idea.
"Yes, I find it more enjoyable to travel on my own," said Cate. "If ever you need an excuse to be alone and sit in silence, feel free to use me."
Another smile. "Thank you," said Rose, "truly."
The two young women sat together for a couple of hours, sipping coffee and tea, and, once they had grown more comfortable and truly realized that the other would not mind, they read. At least, they started to; they had both decided to return to their cabins momentarily to retrieve books and, when Cate returned to the corridor where Rose waited, Rose's eyes had widened at the sight of the yellow cover of Dracula. They returned to the lounge and, instead of reading their respective novels, had launched into a discussion about Stoker's book. It occurred to Cate that they both could have easily returned to their own cabins if they wanted to be alone, but sitting with Rose and discussing literature wasn't tiring like conversing with some millionaire and his wife about how fast Titanic could travel.
Cal and Ruth arrived at noon to collect Rose for lunch, and both women were rather reluctant to cease their discussion and return to the real world void of vampires and ghouls. And because Cate had lied about her plans for lunch, she had no choice but to depart the lounge, acting as if she was going to the restaurant to join Helen and her parents. However, when the Hockley party was out of sight, instead of going to the restaurant, Cate climbed the stairs to A-Deck and wandered toward the reading and writing room. Just as she had hoped, it was empty, as most, if not all, of the first class passengers headed for lunch in the saloon, café, or restaurant. Cate made her way to an upright piano that seemed to be carved out of the wall, so perfectly did it fit into its little cabinet on the far side. She wasn't quite sure if passengers were allowed to play the pianos, but as no one was around to stop her, she didn't quite care at the moment.
At school, both Cate and Lillian had required to take music classes despite Beth's wishes as part of the academy's desire for its students to be very well-rounded. Lillian had attempted the violin and hated it while Cate had excelled in piano, singing in her spare time. At the academy, one needed only to look in either the library or the music room to find her. There was a piano at her grandparents' mansion in Philadelphia that she played as often as possible, which usually was only while Beth was out and could not hear. Adam, her grandfather, didn't particularly care either way.
As she sat down at the beautiful instrument, Cate ran her fingers over the ivory keys. Before she let herself stop to think, she began playing the first song that came to her, one she had learned years ago. The words sprang to herself and, because she knew she was alone, she allowed herself to sing.
"Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme.
Remember me to the one who lives there,
He once was a true love of mine."
Cate surprised herself by changing the last line, singing "he" instead of "she." Immediately, James' face appeared in her mind, and though she felt terribly embarrassed, she forced herself to continue. She sang and, though the ballad did not truly fit how she felt about James, its lyrics talking of a person giving their lover a series of impossible tasks to prove their love, his face danced in her head, wishing she was brave enough to sing it for him, wishing she could tell him that, every time she sang about her "true love," his face became clearer and clearer.
She sang the last line, "He once was a true love of mine," her voice trailing into silence. Cate sat there for a moment, suddenly feeling like she shouldn't be there. What if someone heard her and asked her why she was singing that particular ballad? Perhaps she was overthinking things, but it felt strange to be thinking about James so strongly in a public place, as if the other passengers could read her thoughts and judge her silence. As she turned on the bench, she nearly screamed. Leaning on the back of an armchair, his arms folded over his chest, his hat resting on the side, a smile on his handsome face, was none other than James himself.
"Don't stop," he said eagerly, standing up straight taking several steps toward her. "That was beautiful. I've never heard such a lovely voice, truly."
"How—" Cate sputtered, feeling utterly mortified, "How did you—"
"How did I know you were in here?" James suggested, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, his hands clasped behind his back. "I didn't! I just so happened to be strolling along the promenade deck, as one does, and I just so happened to see you walking to the piano through the window. I was going to announce my presence when you began playing, so of course, I couldn't interrupt. That would just be rude."
But despite James' smile and his compliments, Cate could only stammer at him, so embarrassed did she feel that he had caught her, as if he could have read the thoughts floating through her mind as she sang, as if he could read just what lay written on her heart. When he saw how flustered she became, James' grin faltered and he hurried forward to sit beside her on the piano bench, taking her hands in his.
"I'm sorry if I've embarrassed you," he said, bringing her fingers up to his lips and kissing them. "That was not my intention. You truly do have a beautiful voice, though. And you play magnificently."
Cate nervously returned his smile. "You fluster me so," she admitted. "It's my job to be very poised and composed, but you render me incapable of all that. How do you do it?"
James smiled again and, without bothering to glance around and see that no one had walked in one them, leaned forward to kiss her gently on the lips.
"It's part of my charm," he said, placing a hand on the side of her neck before kissing her again, this time lingering longer and scooting closer so that no space existed between them. "That, and my innate ability to find you whenever I look for you."
"Really?" Cate said in between kisses. "Do you ever sleep?"
"Occasionally," said James, kissing the corner of her mouth and then the side of her chin, her jaw, her cheek… His lips were as gentle as butterflies on her closed eyelids, his thumb stroking her cheekbone. "Recently, not as often." A kiss on her forehead and then their eyes met. "You're more fun than sleep."
Cate, her heart racing a bit, took a moment to reply as her eyes fluttered open once more. Indeed, she fancied she could see circles underneath his blue eyes. "You should get some rest," she said disapprovingly.
"I can to that later," James said dismissively, sitting back and glancing at a beautiful clock that was perched on a mantle nearby. "I'm free until four, and then I only have to work two hours. Then I can get some sleep while you're at dinner."
Cate sighed, but she felt touched that he wanted to spend so much time with her. And truthfully, she wanted to spend just as much time with him, if only it were possible.
"I wish there was somewhere we could go," said Cate as she looked around the empty writing room once more, "where we could be sure no one would find us."
There was a pause and, in that moment, both Cate and James realized they each had a place in which they could be alone. Cate immediately regretted her words, not having recognized how forward they had been. But James didn't seem particularly fazed, though he fiddled with the cuff of his sleeve for a moment before looking back at her.
"Well," James said after a moment, "any first class areas are obviously out, because you're a gossipy lot, and we can't go into any of the officers' areas…."
"Gossipy first class passengers likely won't stray out of our area," said Cate, "unless they're 'slumming.' I heard someone talking about it at dinner the other night. But the crew can go anywhere. Even if we hid among third class, we couldn't guarantee that my father or, I don't know, Mr. Lowe wouldn't come upon us."
"It's not likely," said James. "They're both on duty right now, and so it's unlikely either of them will leave the bridge unless there's some sort of emergency. The senior officers do rounds, but…"
"But what?"
But James' thoughtful, almost discouraged demeanor was gone in an instant, and he smiled again.
"Nothing," he said quickly. "Even if Harold were to come upon us, I don't think he would turn us in to your father or the skipper. He's not like that."
"The skipper?" Cate repeated.
"Captain Smith."
"No, I know what the skipper is," said Cate, a bit irritably. "I mean… what would happen if someone told the captain about… about us?"
James sighed. He turned a bit away from her and looked out at the beautiful, lavish room.
"At first," he said slowly, "perhaps nothing… perhaps I would have received a warning for continuing to speak to you more than I should have. But now… now that we've…" He sighed again and paused before looking back at her. "I'm sure I'd be dismissed."
"Dismissed," said Cate. "From Titanic?"
"From White Star Line," James corrected her. "I don't think I'd ever work on another White Star Line ship, nor any Cunard or any other company's ship." He gave a humorless laugh. "Not to mention the fact that your father would murder me."
Cate stood quickly from the piano bench and took several steps away, wringing her hands together. She suddenly felt terribly nervous, as if Will or the captain was going to walk in at any moment.
"I can't let you throw away your career for me," she said, finally turning back to him. "I'm not worth the risk, James, and you know it."
"No, I don't know it," James said gently, standing up, as well. "Do you think I take this lightly, Cate? Do you think I want to lose everything I've worked toward? You're not just a pretty girl who caught my eye that day on the bridge… I thought you'd realized that by now."
"Realized what?" Cate whispered, willing herself not to start crying due to the panic and emotion rising within her.
"That you're worth everything," James said softly, stepping toward her and taking her face in his warm hands. "I would risk everything for you."
"You shouldn't," said Cate. Much to her dismay, she felt her eyes welling with tears. "You're risking so much more than I am. Gossip, an angry father… I can live with all that. But I can't let you throw away your career for me, for a few days aboard a ship with… with the pretty girl on the bridge."
James chuckled slightly, wiping away a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "Your listening skills are terrible," he teased quietly. "I said you weren't just some pretty girl on the bridge, remember? You're beautiful and you were on the bridge, yes, but you're so much more than that to me. I feel like I've found a single diamond in all the ocean, one I was searching for without even knowing it, and I can't believe how lucky I am to have found it. How can I turn away from something so wonderful?"
"Maybe we have to be strong." Her words were a quiet susurration, barely intelligible of the soft, distant rumbling of the engines and boilers, their only reminder that they were sailing along the sea. She looked past his shoulder at the room behind him.
James took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her head back so that she looked up at him, and kissed her, moving his other hand to rest on her waist. Cate was sure he could feel her heart pounding against his chest, that he could feel her trembling.
"Yes, we do," James said at last when he pulled back from their kiss, resting his forehead on hers and looking down at her. "We'll have to be strong together, Cate, because the only way you're throwing me over is literally tossing me overboard into the ocean. Unless you honestly tell me that we… that what we have… is not worth the risk to you."
Cate lowered her eyes for a moment. When she spoke, she looked back up at him. "And what do we have, James?" she whispered. "Is it sporadic encounters over the course of a week-and-a-half before we go our separate ways?"
James smiled slightly. "Would you turn away from a diamond you'd found after only two weeks? I don't know if I'm strong enough for that. We have about four more days together on board Titanic."
"And then what?" Cate asked.
James kissed her forehead softly. "I don't know," he admitted. "But we'll figure it out together."
No one walked in on them in the reading and writing room. As it grew closer to one o'clock, though, Cate grew more anxious as she knew first class passengers would be finishing their lunch and ladies would, perhaps, want to retire to that room to write letters or to read. And though Cate tried to convince James to return to his cabin to sleep before his next ship, he refused, insisting that he could sleep later. And so, wanting to stay together but unable to remain in that place, they left together. They had decided that the best course of action would be to attempt to blend in with the third class passengers, who, even if they gossiped, wouldn't able to spread said gossip to any first class passengers or crew. And there were so many of them that, despite James' uniform and Cate's beautiful ensemble, clear symbols of their respective statuses, they still might blend in enough to be ignored.
However, because they would be required to walk through the majority of the first class spaces, they decided to separate and meet at the stern, a poop deck that was out in the open and yet reserved for third class passengers. And however unjust it was, while third class passengers could not venture out of their designated areas, Cate, in first class, had the ability to go anywhere on the ship, regardless of the class for which it was reserved. She had overheard a number of passengers she didn't know laughing over dinner about how they had 'slummed' in the third class main hall to see what they were like, as if they were completely different beings because they had less money. It disgusted her, and yet Cate couldn't stop herself from taking advantage of the unfair rules so she could be with James.
After following James' instructions, they met once more at the stern of Titanic. He smiled when he caught sight of her and together they walked over to the port side, nestled in a corner where they were almost hidden by a gargantuan, electric crane and rope crank. There were several third class passengers milling about, talking and laughing, smoking, and seemingly have a grand old time. It reminded Cate of the evenings she had spent with her family in Dalbeattie after one of the uncles had started a large bonfire, and she and her cousins had danced gaily around it before collapsing on the grass, breathless with laughter, to eat supper and listen to stories and tales in the warm, summer evenings. She knew that, if she had grown up the way she was meant to and had booked a passage on board Titanic, it would be in the third class. Not that she ever wouldhave left Scotland willingly.
"I'm sorry I left so suddenly last night," said James, leaning up against the ship's white railing. "Did you speak with your father?"
Cate smiled grimly, though she immediately felt set upon by sickening waves of guilt once more. "Yes," she said. "He came to see me quite early this morning in my cabin."
"This morning?" said James. "You didn't go meet him?"
Cate sighed and turned to face the southern horizon. When she and Lillian had sailed the Atlantic the first several times when they were quite young, she had tried to convince her sister that she could see all the way down to Africa or even Antarctica, depending on where they were during the voyage. Cate had insisted that the fairies that had visited them when they were babies, the ones who had blessed them and given them straw-and-sunshine-colored hair, had given her special powers to see far into the distance. Lillian, who was quite adept at geography, had never believed her, but it had been fun for Cate to pretend that she could see much farther past the horizon.
"No, I didn't," Cate said at last. "I returned to my stateroom only after I was certain that he had returned to work. Did he seem very angry?"
James shrugged and moved beside her so that he, too, looked out at the ocean. "No," he said. "Not angry at all, really. At least he didn't seem so, not even when he asked me about you."
Cate whirled around to face him, her eyes wide. "He approached you about me?" she said. "What did he say? When?"
She expected him to tell her to relax, that everything was fine, but he didn't. James seemed stiff as he stood there before her, still gazing out at the southern horizon.
"Around eleven," he said, "about an hour after he came on duty. He seemed perfectly… I don't know, he seemed like his normal self. He asked to speak with me, and with no preamble, he asked if I was with you last night."
Cate felt her heart drop like a stone. James was a very honorable person, she knew, as honorable as one could be whilst kissing his superior's daughter. But would he lie about it to that very superior? He had said that they were risking everything, but surely if James had admitted that he had been with her the night before, Wil's wrath would have already come down on both their heads.
"What did you reply?" she asked weakly, willing him to tear his eyes from the sea and look at her.
Finally, he did, his eyes meeting hers. "I lied," he said. "And I feel sick about it, truly, because I don't lie. Ever. Not even when I stole a biscuit that Mum made before supper. But I lied to the First Officer about being with his daughter. I lied when I knew perfectly well that, not only was it wrong for me to be with you, but for me to lie to him. And I did it anyway."
"Why?" Cate asked, her guilt worsening even further, not just because of the lie to her father, but for the torture it seemed to put James through. "Why not tell him the truth if it eats at you so?"
James sighed and, without even bothering to see that none of the third class passengers were watching, stepped forward, took her face in his hands, and kissed her. "Because I love you," he whispered when they parted after a long moment. "And I'm much more willing to risk everything else before that. Surely you've realized that by now?"
Cate was stunned. Whatever she had been expecting him to say, it hadn't been that. She wanted to both cry for joy and fear from what Will would say if he found out that James had said such a thing to her. When she opened her mouth to speak, however, James cut across her.
"I know I shouldn't say it," he said quickly, taking his hands from her face and stepping backward. "I know it's not proper for me to say it, certainly not after I've only known you a week and when neither of us knows what the future has in store for us both. And I know I shouldn't say it to you of all people, someone who is so far beyond my reach, so far above my station, and you're more than my lot in life should ever allow, but I simply can't wait any longer—I'm a very impatient person, you know—I love you, Cate Murdoch. I do, truly. That is why I am willing to and why I want to risk everything."
"James—"
"Perhaps it's insane," James continued, apparently unable to hear her. "Perhaps I'm insane for wanting a life with someone like you, when some other man could give you so much more than I can or will ever be able to. But it seems I can't help but love you, someone so intelligent, and witty, and so utterly breathtaking." James sighed and passed a hand over his face. "I feel so lucky to have found you even though I may have to throw away everything to keep you. If you'll have me, that is."
"James," Cate said loudly, shutting down his tirade. He looked at her, his eyes wide and almost pleading. Her heart was hammering and she felt almost dizzy with euphoria. Then, surprised at her own daring, she closed the gap between them once more by stepping forward, placing her hand on the back of his neck, and pulling his head down to press her lips to his. James responded eagerly to her kiss, placing his hands on her waist and pulling her close as she wound her arms around his neck.
"I love you, too," she whispered against his lips when they parted.
James beamed, looking happier than she had ever seen him. He wrapped his strong arms around her and held her close, and she nestled the side of her face into his chest, holding him just as tightly. And finally, for the first time in her life, Cate knew she was where she was meant to be.
Cate and James stayed on the stern of the ship for as long as James' work would allow. He told her about his life in Scarborough, his three elder sisters—Victoria, Eve, and Alice—and how they had teased and tormented him, their baby brother, for years until he went off at the age of about fifteen to become a sailor. He spoke of a loving household, of a father who was stern but kind and a mother who always had a smile on her face and was always, always baking. Some of James' first memories, he said, were of wading amongst the waves. Cate smiled at the image of James as a baby, laughing, dimples in his cheeks.
But when James wanted to hear more about Cate's own childhood, she waved him off, insisting that she had spoken enough about herself for a lifetime.
"There is nothing interesting about growing up preparing to be a debutante," said Cate, shaking her head.
James shrugged. "You could say the same about a lower middle class living by the sea, couldn't you? I'm interested in everything to do with you. You say I've heard enough, but I feel that I know so little about you, someone who's father is a sailor from Scotland and whose mother was a wealthy American socialite? You've still not told me your whole story, Cate."
"There's nothing to tell," said Cate, leaning once more on the white railing. "My sister and I were mistakes—I more so than she, I suppose, since I came along unexpectedly after her. And my father is a hypocrite."
"How so?"
Cate sighed. She was treading on dangerous ground, a subject that no one had dared mention in years—at least, not until Cate had insinuated just that morning that Will wasn't even her father. But her anger remained at her father's continued meddling, and so she continued speaking.
"I don't even know the whole story," she said. "He refuses to talk about it. But from what little I've been able to get him to admit, he met Sophie—my mother—in a pub in Liverpool one evening in January when she was snowed in and unable to continue on to her home in Wiltshire. He was about nineteen and she was eighteen. Later, when my maternal grandmother, Beth, found out Sophie was pregnant, she sent Sophie to live with Beth's sister, Josephine, in Montréal. Sophie wrote to my father about Lillian and me, and he came and took us to Scotland."
"And that makes him a hypocrite?" James asked.
"He's a hypocrite for insisting how improper it is for me to speak to you," Cate said, growing frustrated. "He met and bedded a young woman in the same night, but I can't even speak to you in a park without him thinking that I'm going to run away with you."
"But your father wasn't a member of the pub staff or something," said James. "Part of the reason he forbids it is because I'm a member of the crew, isn't it?"
But Cate shook her head bitterly. "If it weren't for my grandparents, he wouldn't care," she said. "But they've poisoned him."
"Yes, where do your grandparents come into this?" James asked. "You say your father took you to Scotland from Canada, so shouldn't that have been the end of it?"
"It should have," said Cate with a sigh. "But it wasn't. Michel died in a train crash a year or two after Lillian and I were born and then Sophie contracted tuberculosis and died when we were not quite five." She rolled her eyes and bent forward so that her elbows rested on the railing, feeling less and less like an elegant lady with each passing second. "Adam and Beth were without an heir to inherit their fortune and Adam's title of viscount, and so they wrote to my father after Sophie died and offered to send my father a very large monthly stipend if he agreed to bring us to Philadelphia to live so we could learn to be perfect little princesses, and then to send us to school in Oxford when we were ten. My father stipulated that we should return to Dalbeattie each year over the summer and Christmas, but other than that, that was all he needed to be rid of us."
"I don't think your father wanted to be rid of you," James said quietly. "I know he loves you, Cate. You're all he could speak of from the moment we embarked in Belfast—you and your sister—what was her name again? Jillian?"
Cate smiled at his unexpected levity, not quite sure if he had misremembered her sister's name on purpose. It was strange, she realized, for her to know someone that her twin did not. The two had always been grouped together, whether they wanted to be or not, always known as "Lillian and Catharine," never individually by anyone except their family in Scotland. Their paternal family had loved them so dearly, never caring about their illegitimacy, never loving Lillian any less even as she stopped reciprocating.
"Lillian," she corrected. "Lillian Marie Alton, certainly the one destined for the entirety of their vast fortune."
"Lillian Marie," James repeated. "And what's your full name? Shall I guess?"
Cate arched an eyebrow, smirking slightly. "Good luck."
"Sophie?"
"I'd like to think my mother was that narcissistic to name her children after herself even though she had no intention of keeping us, but no."
"Beth?" James suggested.
"Her full name is Élisabeth, but also no."
James looked very thoughtful, staring at Cate intensely and stroking his chin. "Hmm," he said slowly. "What was your mother's full name, then?"
"Sophie Marie-Hélène Clément Alton." It felt strange to be speaking of her mother so casually, or even at all; Will never spoke of her, and though Beth spoke of her often, Cate tended to ignore her.
James blinked. "That's quite the mouthful."
Cate snorted. "Clément is Beth's maiden name—she gave it to both Michel and Sophie."
"So… Marie…Ellen, you said it was?"
"Hélène," Cate corrected him. "The h is silent and the first syllable is a long a sound—it's French."
"And is that your middle name?" James asked. "Catharine Hélène Murdoch Alton?"
"Yes," said Cate.. "Though my mother never wanted us, I often wonder why she felt it necessary to name us before my father came to collect us. And I wonder what my father would have named us if he had been given the choice. I once asked him why he never changed our names after we arrived in Scotland, but he never gave me an answer."
James shrugged. "Perhaps he likes the names?"
"I don't know," said Cate. "Maybe. He so rarely calls us anything but Cate or Lilly that sometimes it feels as though he did change our names. I'm Cate or Catey in Scotland and nothing but Catharine in America. Though I've been trying to convince the other passengers to call me Cate now that my grandmother isn't here to stop them."
"You changed the subject from your father—"
"Actually, you did by asking me my middle name," Cate informed him.
"Mine is Paul, by the way," James said conversationally. "Anyway, you said your grandparents poisoned your father… but I think he would forbid us from seeing one another even if you had nothing to do with that side of your family—Mr. Murdoch seems to be very intent on following regulations."
"He is," Cate admitted, "but that's partly why he's a hypocrite, isn't it? Regulations wouldn't much permit him to have two daughters out of wedlock with a recently widowed young woman, would it? No one says much to Lillian and me, but I've heard my aunts and grandmother talk about it from time to time—the family was very much disappointed and surprised when he told them that he had fathered a baby, not to mention when he returned with two instead of just one."
James shrugged again. "Perhaps we all do things that are a bit out of character from time to time," he said. "I never would have thought falling in love with an heiress and going behind the backs of my superiors was in my character, and yet here I am."
Cate couldn't help but smile at his words. The idea that he, someone so kind, and funny, and gentle, could love her seemed absolutely unbelievable, and yet he insisted it was true. The only example she had ever seen of truly lasting love had been her grandparents and aunts and uncles, but she had never really thought that such a thing would be possible for her. She felt so light and happy when she was with him, as if all her troubles melted away, but she knew that falling in love with him had added seemingly insurmountable complications to her already complicated life. Cate just wasn't sure she was ready to face them yet.
Evening
James told me he loved me today. I was quite surprised and I think he was, too. He told me on the stern of the ship, in the area reserved for third class passengers. Of the two of us, only he had a right to be there, but we were away from the other people, hidden behind a large crane and rope crank. I wish we didn't have to hide, but perhaps that's one the reasons why this is all so exciting. My father would surely explode if he knew that James, the man he's forbidden me from seeing, and I have fallen in love and that he kissed me the other night. And, admittedly, several times since then.
But I cannot help myself: I know I love James with every fiber of my being. I just wish I could explain it to Da and that he would understand and accept it. But that's impossible. He and I seem to be moving so quickly, so in love after only a week together, but I've never felt happier than I feel now. I wasn't even sure that what I was feeling was love, never before have I felt such a thing, but as soon as James said it to me, I knew what I felt the same. There is no doubt in my mind.
I wonder if this is what Lillian feels for Daniel Norcross. He is a very handsome mind, and he has always seemed to be quite kind, but he's not the sort of man that Lillian is usually interested in; she was ever so put out when Cal Hockley proposed to Rose and not her, but I don't think Cal ever had his sights on anyone but Rose; he danced with other women and even courted them, but the moment Rose made her debut, he seemed devoted to her, even though she seems fairly apathetic in return. Grand-mère thinks that Ruth is forcing Rose to marry him, but why wouldn't Rose want to? He is certainly handsome, and he seems very kind. But maybe, like Lillian, that's not Rose's "type."
On the other hand, I don't know that I've ever had a type before I met James. Men simply never interested me much, but I can't think of anything other than James. He occupies my thoughts constantly, and the image of his smile makes me smile in return, even if everything else around me is somber.
The great question that seems to hover over us, though, seems to drift lower and lower with each passing second: what will happen when the ship docks in New York?