Chapter Twelve

Saturday, April 13, 1912

James Moody came on duty at noon. Will watched him leave his cabin, the smallest stateroom of all the officers, yawning as he placed his hat on his head. He lingered for a little longer, unable to stop himself from wondering if his own daughter would sneak out of the cabin a few moments later. But she did not. Moody arrived on the Bridge alone, still looking more tired than the other junior officers, but not as utterly exhausted as he had during his last shifts.

"Morning, princess," Lowe cackled, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "Finally get some sleep, did you?"

Will, who stood on the opposite side of the Bridge, wondered if Lowe realized that he was within earshot. Moody certainly seemed to, as his grumbled response was unintelligible. It was time for the "changing of the guard," as it were, as noon had arrived and Lowe and Third Officer Herbert Pitman were off, set to be replaced by Moody and Fourth Officer Joseph Boxhall. Will had been on duty since ten, just after he had left Cate's stateroom, and would be in charge of the ship for another two hours. This, he realized, was his only chance to speak to Moody without anyone else overhearing and interfering. He had left a note on Cate's desk saying that he had stopped by to see her and to meet him there at two o'clock that afternoon. Hopefully she would see it and actually do as he instructed.

When Lowe and Pitman left, leaving Moody and Boxhall to settle into the routine of beginning their shifts, Will walked once more around the Bridge. With his hands clasped behind his back, strolling leisurely, he went over and over again in his head what he was planning to say to both Moody and his daughter. His heart was pounding and his mouth felt dry from nerves, but he knew this was for the best. It had to be done, and it had to be done now. Will approached the Navigating Bridge again, this time from the starboard side, and stopped in the entryway and studied the scene: Moody was on the other side of the great wheel, standing ramrod straight, staring directly ahead. Immediately, Will was filled with the fury that this man, his own colleague, had gone behind his back and kissed his daughter. Not just that—he had fallen in love with her and then lied to him about it! It took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to stride across the Bridge and punch Moody in the face. But he resisted, his jaw clenched tight, his hands clasped tightly behind him.

"Mr. Moody," he said, clearing his throat and starting toward him, "come here, please."

Will had intended to sound a little more inviting, but it had come across more as a barked order. Indeed, he saw Boxhall turn his head, surprised, his eyebrows raised, as Moody practically scurried from where he stood and followed Will into the charting room. This time, Will closed the door behind them. He took a breath as Moody turned around to face him, his expression as unreadable as ever, though Will searched it for some sign of acknowledgement that he had been found out.

"Mr. Moody," Will said again, fortunately sounding calmer this time, "I know the truth. I know about you and my daughter."

There was a silence. For a moment, James only stared at him, his mouth slightly agape, his blue eyes wide with disbelief.

"Sir—" he sputtered at last, but Will cut him off; he didn't want to hear him try to deny it.

"No," said Will, holding up a hand. "Please don't lie to me again, Mr. Moody. I've heard directly from the source what has transpired between you and Catharine over the past week."

"She—" James stammered, "she told—"

"In a manner of speaking," Will said tightly, guilt seeping through him once more. But he shoved it aside. "The point is, I know, Mr. Moody. I know that you've been involved with my daughter, against my wishes and against your regulations as an officer."

Moody heaved a sigh. At last, he said, "Yes, sir."

There was no satisfaction in knowing that Moody had admitted the truth to him. None whatsoever. If anything, Will felt worse, if that were even possible. With the look of resignation on Moody's face, Will knew what was going through the lad's head: his career was over; he had been found out by, not only the lady's father, but the ship's First Officer, who would tell the Captain and send James packing the moment they reached dry land. His career was going up in smoke for the love of a girl.

"I'm not going to tell the skipper," Will said, sounding more gentle than he had expected.

Moody, who had been drowning in midair, snapped his eyes back to Will's. He exhaled sharply. "Sir," he breathed, "I—"

"Yes, you broke the rules," Will interrupted. "Officers are certainly not to have much to do with passengers, other than pointing them in the right direction and telling them what time luncheon is served. And I have enough information to have you removed, not only from Titanic as her Sixth Officer, but from White Star Line in its entirety. And you must understand, Mr. Moody, that there is more to this than me reprimanding you for fraternizing with a passenger; you see, it wasn't just a passenger, it was my daughter you were courting. It was Cate, my little girl. You both went behind my back and lied to me to my face."

"But…" Moody said slowly, "…you're not going to tell Captain Smith, sir?"

"No," said Will, "I'm not. I'm not against you, Mr. Moody. I'm not against either of you. God knows I want Catharine to be happy after everything she has been through with her grandparents and living in Philadelphia—I assume she's told you everything?"

"Yes, sir," Moody muttered, sounding sheepish.

"Yes, well… I gave up any right to my daughters to two people who are, to put it bluntly, utter arses. They are not very good people, and yet I sent Catharine and her sister to live with them and to be raised, for the most part, by them. Why? Because they have unimaginable amounts of money. Lillian has thrived, but Catharine abhors the life that I forced her into, and I've turned a blind eye to her unhappiness until now." Will sighed. "Don't you think that, if given the chance, I would do what I could so Catey could be happy? I know she could be happy with you, Mr. Moody, and I know you could be happy with her. If we lived in a better world, then it could be so. You've made her very happy over the past week, and for that I am grateful, but your relationship with her ends now."

Moody passed a hand over his face. The two had gone beyond having a discussion between a junior officer and his superior; it was now a conversation between a young man and the father of the woman he loved.

"Is it because of money, sir?" said Moody. "Because I have nothing to give her?"

Will sighed again. "As hypocritical as it makes me, yes, lad, it is. I sacrificed a life with my children so they could have lives I could never have a given them: lives as educated women with status and wealth, never worrying about how they would pay for their dinner, or how they would find another pair of shoes for their young child. Cate has worked toward a life where she will be safe from all of that, and though she is unhappy now, she will realize that this is for the best."

Moody swallowed. "Forgive me, sir," he said slowly, "but doesn't Ca—Miss Alton's—opinion matter in regards to her own life?"

It was a question bordering severely on impertinence. But Moody held his ground against Will's stern gaze.

"Do you honestly believe that her grandparents would let your relationship continue?" Will snapped, starting to grow angry. "They, her grandmother especially, would have your head on a spike if they knew Catharine had kissed a ship's officer in plain view of other passengers on the promenade deck. Money may not guarantee happiness in this world, Mr. Moody, but it certainly guarantees power, and the Altons have plenty of both. I'm telling you this now to protect the both of you. If you go public with your relationship with Cate, you will ruin her life. Is that what you want?"

Moody exhaled slowly. Instead of looking at the ground, though, he met Will's gaze directly. "No, sir."

"And do you love her?"

"Yes, sir," Moody replied immediately. "I love her very much."

"Then do her a favor, Mr. Moody, and let her go. Give her a chance to be happy in the life she's worked towards without throwing it all way. You owe it to her and you owe it to yourself to find someone else."

"But, sir," Moody said quietly after a moment, "with all due respect… I cannot simply let her go. I cannot fathom life without her. I know it has only been a week, and you must think me foolish for falling in love so quickly, but the truth remains that I have. I am very much in love with her, and I cannot let her go because her grandparents would disapprove."

Will sighed sharply. "It's not that simple, lad," he said. "Maybe you have indeed fallen in love within the span of the week, but you don't live in a fairytale. Do you think you can march up to the Altons' mansion doors and declare your love for her? They will tear you apart—not only would they have you arrested for trespassing, but they would likely accuse you of a whole manner of indiscretions, enough to ruin your reputation and prevent you from working for White Star, Cunard, or any respectable position, whether on sea or on land, and they will keep Cate under lock and key until you're out of the country. Please believe me when I say that there is nothing I want more than for my daughters to be happy, but this is not the way to go about it."

When Moody didn't reply, Will sighed and clapped a hand to his shoulder. "I know it's hard, lad," he said. "I know what it's like to want something that's too far beyond my reach. But this is how it has to be."


Cate almost didn't see the note left by her father. She had returned to her stateroom after lunch with Helen Newsom, Madeleine Astor, Emily Ryerson, and Helen Bishop to rest for a bit before seeing James at four, when he was due to go off duty for two hours. It wasn't much time, but she had insisted on him using the hours between noon and four to sleep. If he only missed two, then she could feel less guilty and he could be more rested. As she was walking to the wardrobe to remove her hat, she saw the note with her father's familiar, distinct handwriting.

"Catey," it read, "I came to call and you weren't here. Please be here at two o'clock this afternoon so we can talk. —Da"

Biting her lip slightly, Cate replaced the note and continued on to the wardrobe. She had no idea what her father could possibly want now. Hadn't they agreed not to fight anymore? Unless, she thought suddenly with a lurch in her stomach, someone had seen her and James at the stern and reported them. But surely she would know if that had happened. It would be the main topic of gossip among those in first class if that were the case. Nevertheless, Cate couldn't put her mind at ease. She eased the pins from her hair and lifted the hat from her head, thinking of how Esther would fret when she realized that she had not been there to assist. But Cate was glad her maid had some time to herself, which would indeed be scarce once they reached Philadelphia.

Thirty minutes later, as Cate lounged on the settee between the bed and the writing desk, there was a knock on the door. She sighed slightly, wishing she could simply nap away the two hours that separated her from James, rather than arguing with her father, which she was certain would happen. Their relationship had never been as tumultuous as it was now. Growing up, it was Lillian who had always acted out, and argued, and threw tantrums to get away. But Cate had always considered herself to be "the good one." Now she couldn't seem to spend five minutes with her father without arguing with him.

Cate didn't bother to slip her shoes back on as she stood and walked down the narrow passageway from the bulk of the room to the cabin door. She started to smile when she saw him standing before her, but it faded slowly when she saw how solemn and serious he looked. Immediately, she was filled with dread as she opened the door wider to let him in.

"Hello, Da," she said slowly, closing the door behind him. "I'm sorry I missed you earlier. Did Esther let you in?"

Will didn't reply as he walked into the room. He glanced quickly at the writing desk before turning around to face her as she followed, sitting down on the settee, her hands resting on her thighs.

"There's no easy way to say this, lass," he said slowly, looking around at different parts of the room—the bed, the desk, the ribbon-back chair, anywhere but at her—before finally settling on her face.

"So maybe you should just say it." Cate's heart pounded. Oh, God. Whatever it was, this was not good.

Will let out a breath. "I know about you and Moody."

Just like before, there was a silence. However, Cate didn't look as shocked as James had; she merely stared at her father.

"He told you?" she said quietly, seeing no point in trying to deny anything. Though she was indeed surprised, she wasn't disbelieving that James had been unable to lie any longer. He had said himself that he never lied, and if Will had asked him again, Cate had doubted whether he would be able to lie again.

"No."

Now Cate was surprised. "Then how do you know?" she demanded. She wanted to ask if someone had seen them together on the stern, but she didn't want to volunteer such information if he actually had no idea that that had happened.

Will sighed. "I did it because I care about you," he said softly, "and because I want what's best for you."

"How do you know?" Cate repeated through gritted teeth. What had he done? She hadn't told anyone else, so no one could have told him. She doubted Harold Lowe would have said anything. What had he done because he cared about her? Quickly, she thought back. They hadn't seen one another since yesterday morning, and he had said he believed her then. So what had changed in the span of a day? She looked around the room, her eyes stopping on the note he had left on the writing desk with the fountain pen lying beside it. The note had come from a pad of paper, but she had placed the pen in the Chinese sewing box, which was closed and in its usual spot. The beloved box that contained all of her worldly possessions, like the Scottie dog, the giraffe from Cape Town… and her diary….

"You," she breathed, placing a hand over her heart, "you read…"

"I had to," Will said quickly, clearly trying to placate the anger he knew was coming. "You left me no choice, Catey! I had to know the truth."

Cate felt as if all the air had been knocked from her lungs. Of any thought that had sped through her mind as to how he had found out, this was not one of them. Dear God, how could he have betrayed her like this?

"You read," she repeated, her voice stronger, staring at the box. "You read… you read… you read it?!" Cate's voice had risen to a shriek as she jumped to her feet. "You read my diary! Da, how could you?!"

"You left me no choice, Catharine!" Will repeated, taking a step back, as if afraid she might strike him. "I knew you were lying to me, and I knew there was something strange about Moody's behavior!"

"So you broke into my room—"

"I did not break in—"

"—violated my privacy, and read something that is utterly sacred to me?!" Cate screamed. "How could you do that to me?!"

"I'm your father!" Will snapped, his anger now matching hers. "I had a right to know!"

"You lost any bloody right you had when you gave us up to Beth and Adam!"

"Don't speak to me that way!" Will yelled, taking a step toward her. She could not know how her words echoed so closely something he had said to Moody earlier. "I'm your father, Catharine, and I always will be! You can pout, and sigh, and say I never loved you, but you know that that's not the truth!"

"You should never have given me reason to say you never loved me," said Cate, angrily wiping away the tears that had rolled down her cheek. "You should never have left us on our own with people who hated us. Just because Lillian revels in her wealth and status doesn't mean I do, and now you're trying to take away the first thing in my life that has made me truly happy! Admit it: you have never wanted me to be happy!"

"That's not true, and you know it," said Will. "I love you, Catharine; I always have and I always will. There is nothing I want more than your and your sister's happiness."

"Bollocks!" Cate had never dared to speak to anyone, not even her sister, this way. She knew it was rude, unladylike, and quite improper, but she didn't much care at the moment. "If you wanted me to be happy, then you would have let me stay in Scotland the minute you found out that I hated our grandparents. But you didn't, did you? You put me right back on the boat again and again until I hated you just as much!"

Will looked as if she had slapped him across the face. Cate felt a twinge of guilt, but she quickly suppressed it with her anger.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Will said quietly. "But the fact remains that you and Mr. Moody can no longer see each other."

"You can't stop—"

"I can tell the captain," Will interrupted. "I haven't yet, but I certainly can. Is that what you want, Cate? You want to ruin his career? He will be expelled from White Star Line the moment we reach New York, and he will never work on a ship again."

Cate opened her mouth to speak, but Will continued.

"Not to mention your reputation," he said.

"I don't give a damn about my reputation," Cate snapped. "Why would I care what a lot of stuffy, old millionaires talk about over their brandy? What others think of means absolutely nothing, so that's an idle threat."

"Is it?" Will asked. "What about your sister's reputation? Lillian certainly cares what others think of her, seeing as she absolutely loves living as a socialite in America. If you and Moody went public with your relationship, what do you think would happen to your sister?"

"Lillian wouldn't be affected by any decision I've made," Cate insisted. "That's why I thought all along that they would pick her as their heiress and leave me out of it! I thought I could go back to Scotland once she married and I could be left in peace. But Grand-mère's plans just keep steaming on, no matter what I want!"

"And you think she just does it to be cruel?" said Will. "Think, Cate. Think about what would happen if you ran off with Moody. Think about your sister. Of course, she would be affected! That your decisions affect her is the same reason Beth and Adam are still insisting that you live there, whether or not you inherit his title and their money. Do you really think that Lillian's reputation would survive her twin sister running off with an officer she met on Titanic? You may not care what others think, but Lillian certainly does, and you would not only ruin your life, you would ruin hers, as well. Is that what you want? To bring your sister down with you just so you can live out a fantasy?"

"A fantasy?" said Cate. "I love him, Da. He's not just some lad I met in a pub in Liverpool one night!"

Will's jaw clenched. Cate immediately regretted her words, but she didn't let it show. Instead, she crossed her arms and continued to stare at him defiantly.

"You've done enough of throwing that in my face," Will growled. "I was young and foolish, but I'll not say I made a mistake when it resulted in you and Lilly. Perhaps you are in love with him. But that means little, Catharine. Your relationship with him is over, and if you try to take it any further, you'll have his career destroyed."

The very idea that James could lose his job because of her filled her with remorse. "James said he was willing to risk—"

"Mr. Moody is twenty-four years old and has no idea what his talking about," Will said sharply. "Have you been listening to me, Cate? His career will be over if the captain finds out that he's been courting a passenger. The White Star Line will fire him and no other company will take him. You're living in a daze thinking that the two of you could get by only on love, but how do you expect to survive if he has no job and your grandparents have abandoned you? You think the scandal of the viscount's granddaughter would extend only to the upper class of Philadelphia? You'd be a laughing stock, Cate! Why do you think Beth and Adam had to come up with so many lies to cover where you and your sister came from? You're getting ready throw away your life and his because you've fallen in love with him in the span of a week."

Cate turned away from him for a moment, staring at the curtains on her four-poster bed. She felt terribly confined in the small cabin, in spite of the open window and its cool breeze billowing in and rustling a few strands of loose hair hanging down by her face. When she had taken a moment to calm down, to prevent herself from screaming and arousing any of the other passengers, she turned back to face him.

"You would do that?" she asked. "You would turn him into the captain? Is that the kind of man you are?"

"Don't try to blackmail me with threats of honor," Will spat. "I don't want to turn the lad in to Captain Smith, but I will if you don't stay away from him. He has agreed to stay away from you, and you need to do the same."

Cate froze. "You're lying," she said before she could stop herself.

Will rolled his eyes. "You're speaking like a child," he said. "I'm not lying; I spoke to Moody earlier this afternoon and I told him the same things I'm telling you: that your relationship ends now or I go to the skipper."

"What's to stop us from running away together the moment we reach land?" Cate demanded suddenly, feeling desperate.

Will sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. "Catharine, when we went to Philadelphia for the first time and I turned your care over to them, I signed a legally-binding document that stated that you are to be under their legal guardianship until you turn twenty-one or you marry. If you run away with Moody, you can be sure that your grandparents will hunt him down and have him arrested faster than you can blink, certainly faster than the time it would take for you to find someone who would actually be willing and able to marry you the two of you so the contract is void."

Cate stared at him, disbelieving, and yet feeling the world crashing down around her. Seeing the tears begin to slide down her cheeks, Will's expression softened, and he stepped forward, placing a hand on the side of her face. He felt his anger melting as he looked at her, his little girl, wishing he could take back his angry words, wishing he could do everything differently so that she would never have to feel such pain. But he couldn't. He could only move forward.

"I'm so sorry, my darling," he said gently, wiping away a tear with his thumb. "I love you so very much. Please believe me."

When she didn't respond, Will removed his hand with a long breath and took a step back. With one last, lingering look, he smoothed out his jacket and turned to his left, toward the cabin door. He walked out quickly, leaving his daughter to stare blankly at the wall where he had just been standing, her chin quivering, tears falling freely. The door clicked behind him and then, finally, she felt a sob burst from her lips.