A/N: Welcome back! Thank you AlexisRose84, your review was very much appreciated. I wasn't going to bother asking for feedback because I figured this story is sort of niche. But I won't lie, seeing that review gave me a reason to move the other day (lol?). Weird times we live in… I would love to hear from others out there! I'm making it my quarantine challenge to finish this. In maybe 20,000 words-ish? We'll see!

1992 Hampshire, England

"I didn't know who she saw on the dock until sometime afterward, but, it was the person that would impact us the rest of the journey. I'm sure you all have heard of Caldon Hockley."

Sophia and Sir Henry Redford looked to each other knowingly. Redford was a historian and specialized in affairs leading to the first world war. Titanic was a subject that had always greatly interested him.

"Yes," said Sir Redford, "one of the wealthiest men on the ship. He was the one who lost the diamond that night…" Sophia couldn't help but smirk.

"So, it's been said," said Anna with a smirk of her own.

"The cursed diamond," Redford went on. "Everyone who owned it met a tragic end. Cal shot himself after the stock market crash. King Louis had the French Revolution. There's a rather spooky legend that says it's the reason the ship sank."

Anna closed her eyes with a smile, "Yes. That is the legend. But, at the time, it was just a diamond on a necklace. Large, bluer than the ocean…

"Hockley would go on to use every last bit of Titanic fame he could get. Those endless interviews… He claimed he stayed on the ship until the last minute to help all those he could. That he even saved a motherless child. Witnesses say they saw him, or a man that looked a lot like him, pushing people from a lifeboat. And still, he went on for years talking about his great loss. People assumed he was talking of his fiancé at the time, but I knew what he meant. He was talking about his only beloved; La Coeur de la Mer…"

"But, at the time, he was a very likeable man. Lady Mary said everyone who met was instantly drawn to him. He was so handsome and always had a good-natured smile... that was what she told me, anyway. We thought he was an American Prince and never would have thought poorly of him…"

"What… was Lady Mary in love with him, or something?" asked Sir Redford getting a look from Sophia. Anna grinned to the floor.

"Lady Mary was engaged, Sir Redford… To Patrick Crawley, heir presumptive to the family fortune. Patrick, and his father, were on the ship, as well…"

1912: heading to board in Queenstown, April 10th
6pm

Anna pinned up Sybil's hair as Mary sat on the bed with a magazine and Edith sat across in an armchair. Sybil had explained to the girls what had happened earlier and how kind the man was to retrieve her hat. Edith had seemed disinterested as Mary was quick to put down any amorous notions creeping into her younger sister's head.

"Please Sybil, this isn't a romance story, this is real life. You won't be seeing that man again."

"How do you know that? The ship isn't that large."

"Yes, it is. And besides, it's clear he was not in our class. I'm sure they don't want us all fraternizing like Noah's Ark."

"I couldn't care less what they want. Thank you, Anna, it looks marvelous." She said, admiring the maid's talent with hair.

"You're welcome, my lady. You'll have to tell me how the ladies wear their hair tonight. I want to know what the latest fashion is by the women who decide it." Mary laughed getting up from the bed. She was in her evening dress, a crimson red gown with golden details throughout the wispy material and capped sleeved. She pulled on a pair of velvet black gloves and admired her reflection. She looked ready to stun the dinner crowd. Edith laughed with bitterness.

"I see you're prepared for your reunion with Cousin Patrick. Clearly not looking to catch anyone else's eye…" Edith was being sarcastic and caught a glare from her sister. "Won't you wear that dreaded peacock thing? The one you demanded to take even though it weighed down the luggage by 4 stone."

"At least I'm in the latest fashion. Good of you to dress so homely. Mustn't be looking for anyone's attention," quipped Mary. Edith took offense and her shoulders deflated. She was dressed in one of her best evening dresses, or, at least she had thought. Mary's hurtful words crushed what little confidence she had built up while watching Anna do her hair.

"Must you always be so spiteful?" cried Edith, getting up and walking out of the bedroom.

"Don't simper like a child, Edith. You started it!" called Mary before looking back to Anna and Sybil who never wished to involve themselves with the constant sisterly rivalry. "Does she not always start it? Well, at least I always finish it…"

The sisters joined their parents and the group left the suite. Barrow and Anna bid the family a good evening before parting and heading down to C deck where the servants of first-class ate and fraternized. The Crawleys strolled the promenade and enjoyed the sight of the sunset in the distance. Mary was entranced by the sight. For an instant, she had the feeling of being miniscule in the grand state of the universe. It was a fear that arose in her, now and again. She had always willingly played the part of a socialite. She understood the rules of her society and believed in them. But, there were moments when she saw the truth. Class did not matter. It was a lie the English believed to create semblance out of chaos. She wasn't so daft to not see how ridiculous things were. They entered the boat deck and were suddenly under a glass dome staring down a lavish staircase. Mary looked around in a different type of amazement. Man tried to emulate the aweing design of nature. The Titanic was massive. Every rivet crafted to display the glory and splendor of the time. But, it fell short. To Mary, it was obvious, but no one else seemed to notice. The room was full of good-humored chatter. Men and women dressed to impress. Embracing the fantasy of a city on the sea. That was when she heard a familiar voice.

"Ah, fellow Crawleys! How are you faring upon the open ocean?" Patrick Crawley and his father, James, ascended the staircase to meet the family. Grantham was the first to offer his hand as the women smiled pleasantly to the men.

"Oh, I think we've all found our sea legs. How are you doing?" the men exchanged excited handshakes.

"And ladies, how are you all?" asked Patrick. Before noticing the others, he took in the sight of Mary with astonishment. Cora noticed and wished she had told Mary to dress less obviously. Edith noticed, as well. A blowing jolt to her own self-image.

"Radiant, as ever, my darling," he kissed her gloved hand and Mary forced a smile.

"Good to see you again, Cousin." He nodded and moved onto Edith who could barely raise her head to look him in the eye. He paused, enchanted by the image of the woman before him.

"Lady Edith," he said in an astounded whisper. "How do you do? I can hardly believe how different you look… has that much time truly passed?" She looked to him with eyes twinkling in the soft light of the room. Mary wanted to scoff. It was a fact that she herself was always assumed to marry Patrick. He was a fine man, but it was the principal of the matter behind the engagement that troubled her. It was a knife to her free-will. The small bit of control she had in life, to choose who to love, was trampled by the idea of marrying for money and security. Patrick Crawley was a breathing symbol of her own oppression.

The group took to the dining area and sat at a large table. Mary sat across from Patrick and was flanked by her sisters. The room was extravagant and the electric excitement in the air was palpable. It was written on everyone's face; aren't we the lucky chosen ones? The first to experience Titanic. While the girls enjoyed themselves, they couldn't help but feel a bit odd. Rarely had they eaten in such a public space. Still, it felt more like a dinner party filled with acquaintances than a hotel filled with strangers off the street. Just on their way to their table, men stopped them to meet Lord Grantham. One man knew him by name. It was J. Bruce Ismay, chairman of the White Stare Line. He wanted to know the Lord's opinion of his suite and if things were meeting his expectations. Then, when Grantham agreed that everything was to his liking, Ismay made it clear he expected him to share his experience with the papers when they docked. It was their first taste of crass business upon the ship. Bold, upfront, transparent, and all for the sake of popularity.

As the family sat, waiters made their rounds pouring glasses and conversation casually began. Cora was first to talk to Patrick and James. She asked of their travels to Southampton and what they were most excited to see while in New York. Mary pretended to take interest, adding a few opinions here and there, while waiting for a refill of her glass. And then, on one particularly dull subject (Patrick's interest in horse racing) she looked away from the table in boredom. It was then that she noticed a pair (a man and woman) passing them.

"We don't have to stay for long. I told them we would join them. Look, everyone is here."

"This is ridiculous, I've been up since dawn. I feel like a factory woman working for a scrap of food."

"Come now, Rose. You can't imagine what strings I had to pull for these tickets. Can't you pretend to enjoy it?"

Mary watched the man and the young red-headed woman carefully. At first, it was only the young woman who caught her attention. She was wearing a white and navy striped suit-dress. How odd, it appeared that she couldn't be bothered to change for evening. By their voices, she assumed they were American. Was that the done thing there? Mama never mentioned it. Just as she was puzzling over the woman's attire the man's profile suddenly struck her. She watched him look around the room with his chin held high and his chest filled with pride. Her mouth slightly fell open. It was the same man she had noticed on the dock. Back then, he was wearing a bowling hat, holding a fashionable walking stick, and examining his pocket watch. Now, he was in an attractive suit straight from the pages of the Gentlemen's Gazette. Yes, it was the same handsome man. She was taken by his dark eyes, tanned skin, and masculine strut. To her, he looked like an explorer. She could imagine him peering from under a turban in Arabia. Those dark eyes rimmed with coal. She pictured him wielding a gun in the wild west. Or, strapping a blade to his belt. Suddenly, in one prolonged and startling moment, his eyes met hers. Their stare lingered longer than she wished and she cursed herself as she looked back to her table. How foolish. She must have looked like a wide-eyed rabbit to a hungry wolf. She slowly looked up again to see him pulling out a chair for the young woman at this side. From the back, his shoulders were broad and his trim waist was accentuated by his neatly tailored ensemble. He took a seat at the end of the table and was quick to offer a smile and an open palm to the man at his side. And then, the unthinkable. He looked back to her and smiled.

Mary instantly pretended to laugh along with something Patrick had said. How clever he was. He could make her laugh at jokes she didn't hear. Patrick looked to her with naïve fancy.

The dinner went on, course after course. Even when Mary was preoccupied with the table's chatter her eye would find the man's. And, every time, it seemed he was looking at her, too. She felt awkward. She felt exhilarated. She felt the need to talk to him. She imagined what it might be like, talking to an American man. The evening wore down. Mary watched the red-haired woman leave accompanied by another woman. The man stayed and smoked beside his table-mates.

"Well, that's it then. I think I'll be heading back," said James with a smile to his son. "The day has worn out an old man like myself, I'm afraid."

"Of course," said Grantham with the same notion, "besides, we have days here to enjoy the other rooms, at other hours."

"That's right," said Cora as she stood with the men, the girls following suit. Mary was last and Edith noticed. She also noticed her distracted stare across the room… "I think we all could use a nice night in."

"I was planning on taking a walk," Patrick said, getting all to look to him. "I-I wonder if anyone would accompany-"

"Yes," Mary and Edith said in unison. Sybil chortled, trying to hide her face with her hand. Mary smiled, shrugging off her eagerness.

"I mean, it's only- I was just thinking of taking a breath of night air," she clarified with an heir of indifference. In reality, she would take any excuse to stay longer in the American man's presence. Lord and Lady Crawley agreed to let Edith and Mary take a short stroll with Patrick as the others headed back to their rooms.

The three walked in the direction of the exit. It was then that Mary realized she would need to pass by the American man in order to exit to the deck. Just as she was about to step by him, she turned to talk to Patrick. She wasn't brave or stupid enough to acknowledge him, though, she had been close enough to smell the smoke from his cigar.

They stepped outside to the railing and looked to the deck below, facing the bow. The cold air blew Mary's dress and the beading detail rattled at the hem. She felt like the heroine of a Jane Austen novel. Perhaps she should let down her hair and dress in a fichu for the rest of the voyage.

Patrick lit a cigar, "Come now, I want to see the Captain's quarters. Where he steers the ship."

Edith agreed and they were about to walk off when Mary stopped them.

"Wait, I was just wondering about the… the bow," she said, failing an arm in the direction in front of them.

"What about it, darling?" asked Patrick with confusion.

"The… height. And weight. Is it not astonishing? Men built this? I can't imagine what a difficult feat that must have been." She looked back over the rail and out to the dark ocean. Truthfully, she did not care about the ship at all. She just wanted to stay close to the dining room. In case, he walked out and saw her…

"Since when do you care at all about that?" asked Edith flatly.

"Since I walked on! Really, Edith. Some of us take interest in the work of engineers. I wonder what was used to make it, anyway?"

"300 tons of Hockley steel," she heard a different man's voice behind her. The three turned to see Cal lingering in the exit of the dining room and looking to them. "Only on the best parts," he concluded, casually stepping out into the night air. Mary felt a chill run over her bare arms as the wind blew strands of her hair loose.

"Ah, Miser Hockley!" exclaimed Patrick. "I looked for you at the top of dinner. I did not see sight of you! I wondered if you'd missed boarding entirely." Cal laughed sardonically at the events of the day brought on by traveling with his stubborn fiancé.

"My fiancé and I were running late tonight. You know, women and their fashions. Every chance to be seen is a mission for them." He looked back to Mary who looked away. Had he seen her invitation as just that; an invitation? Was she being too forward? Too easy to read? And now, the fact that Patrick and he were acquaintances. Her mind was reeling. "I mean no offense, ladies. I can't imagine either of you struggling in your bedrooms," he added.

Mary wasn't certain if he was being forward, or, if it was the natural inflection of his voice that made one wonder if everything he said had a double meaning.

"No," said Edith haughtily, "that's why we have maids who struggle for us." Mary felt her face grow fevered. "Come, Cousin Patrick, weren't you about to show us down?"

"Cousins, this is a good friend of mine," said Patrick of Cal. "We met at Lady Caroline's ball this past season. You'll get on with him well. He's not too American."

Cal laughed before offering Edith his hand. "Cal Hockley."

"I'm… Lady Edith," she said, confused by the man's stating of his name. He seemed all too tastelessly American to her. Much to Mary's embarrassment, when it came time for her introduction, Patrick took her arm like she was the trophy for best in show.

"This is Lady Mary Josephine Crawley. My fiancé," Mary looked startled, both by Cal's eyes suddenly locked to her and Patrick's eagerness to name her fiancé. "Unannounced," he added as an afterthought.

"Fiancé? Damn, you've done well." Mary blushed as he took her hand in his. His stare to her was blazing and his touch was enough to set a fire through her. "How do you do, Lady Mary Josephine Crawley?" Slow, and purposeful, he kissed her knuckles. Without thinking, she pulled her hand away and cleared her throat.

"Fine, Mister Hockley. How do you do?" He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and placed it between his lips.

"I was fine. Before I knew the most beautiful woman here was spoken for." He lit the cigarette and eyed Patrick who guffawed the man's comedy. But Mary saw no humor in Cal's eyes. Just one single word directed to Patrick; bastard.

To break the unexplained tension, Mary laughed, as well. Though, she was unable to look to Cal again.

"Mister Hockley here is heir to Hockley Steel. A Philadelphian businessman, and for the love of Grace, don't let him beat you in cards. He'll bleed you like a Christmas hog."

"Cards!" gasped Cal with mock outrage. "I've never touched a deck of cards. What a dishonorable past-time. Don't be alarmed, Lady Mary, your husband is only joking."

"Oh, perhaps I've said too much," bemused Patrick.

"Indeed. Well, at least the lady has time to come to her senses." Mary could sense his jovial eyes on her. Maybe examining her bare arms, exposed neck, or wayward state of hair. It didn't matter. She refused to meet his eye again. Once more, and she knew it would be obvious that she was attracted to him like she had never been toward a man before.

By this point, Edith was practically dragging Patrick away and Mary had lost any sense of usual behavior. Patrick could sense the girl's unease and finished his conversation with Cal quickly.

"See you around, Hockley. And, do join us tomorrow. Lord Grantham would be pleased to know not all great American businessmen are Yankee doodle dandies." Cal nodded, taking the cigarette from his mouth.

"Indeed, I'll try not to wear a feather in my hat," he laughed smugly as Edith glared to him. "Have a good night, ladies. Try not to take too much offense to us Americans."

The group moved on but Mary lingered a step behind Patrick and Edith. As the two men said their goodbyes, she happened to look back, and Cal happened to wink.

"Patrick and Lady Mary were not well-matched," said Anna. "When Lady Mary was young, she… she got into trouble with gentleman. Trouble that most don't know of. Of course, those are the secrets I'll take to my grave…"

"God, I wouldn't be able to stand being a woman back then," moaned Sophia. "Especially one like Mary. With her money and social rank, men must have thrown themselves at her at every chance."

"Now dear, Mary had no claim to the Lord's money. That didn't matter to Cal or most men she came across. They didn't want a woman to have more money than them. They only wanted the most elusive one they could find. The rarest and hardest flower to pluck. Of course, she had to be from a good name and high station. Miss Dewitt-Bukater, Cal's affianced then, was famously aloof and mentally unstable. It's sad, in those times there was no one to turn to when you had feelings of such grief. Everyone just had to buck up and go about business. So… I tell the next part of this with a heavy heart. I don't know what she was thinking that night. And, none know of this. Except for the two that witnessed it and helped save her life."

Boat deck, April 11th
11am

The morning was a favored time for the Crawleys and their servants. Onboard the ship, Anna and Thomas had a relaxing schedule. Lord Grantham and the Countess lounged in their suite enjoying books and magazines they had brought to read. The sisters dressed and had tea with their mother to start the day. Cora brought up some of the women she had come across on the ship.

"I can't hardly believe some of things I'm hearing. I'm thankful our lives aren't filled with enough drama for a penny dreadful."

"What do you mean, mama?" asked Sybil.

"Such rumors, I can't repeat them among you girls. Just be wise not to involve yourself with gossip at the table. And don't go near that dreaded Gugganheim man."

"You needn't worry about Sybil and I," said Edith with a giggle as she sipped her tea. "We wouldn't think of eliciting any nouveau riche gentlemen with American accents. Though, Mary already has…" Mary shot her a glare and Edith continued. "It was no wonder that man took such a liking to you last night."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Cora glancing between the sisters.

"She's just being cruel, mama, as usual," jibed Mary.

"Hardly," scoffed Edith. "You should have seen her with this American Machiavelli last night. A dreadful man. What is his name…? Cockley-"

Cora coughed on her tea as Mary's face grew flushed.

"Edith! Will you shut your mouth!"

"Why? Shouldn't you tell everyone? Just to be fair to poor Patrick?"

Mary urgently arose from her seat. The tension had been building between the girls since they left Downton and the first conversion of reuniting with Patrick was brought up. It was clear Edith had feelings for the man. It was clear Mary did not. But that did not stop her from spitefully wanting to wound her sister.

"I don't know why you think you're so clever! You have no idea what I feel!" retorted Mary. Edith was next to rise. Her tea spilling when she did.

"It's clear to anyone with eyes what you feel! You and that man were gazing at each other all night from across the room! And that's the only reason you wanted to take the deck with Cousin Patrick. Don't look so shocked! You invited him yourself!"

"I did no such thing! Did I even speak to anyone that night?" asked Mary to Cora and Sybil. Edith laughed spitefully before they answered.

"It was probably written in your 'come hither' eyes!"

"Girls!" gasped Cora standing to meet them. "This has gone too far! Edith, won't you calmly tell us what you're trying to say?"

Sybil watched on. She was tired of being the neutral party and longed for the day she was old enough to have a scandal to shout about

Mary rolled her eyes, "Oh, of course! Go and take her side so she won't start crying like a child!"

"I am not taking anyone's side! I just want to know what Edith is trying to say-"

"If you must know mother, she's trying to say I have the heart of a whore!" Mary threw her napkin down on the table and stormed away leaving Cora's mouth hanging open. She looked to Edith in shock who looked just as taken back. Mary fumed past Anna who stood near the door and had heard the entire exchange.

"Anna, get my shawl. I'm meeting Patrick for a stroll."

"Yes, my Lady," she said to Mary's back. Odd, it wasn't like Mary to be so curt with her.

Cora was quick to follow Mary and found her trifling through her vanity looking for a clip for her hair.

"What has gotten into you, Mary? What was Edith talking about? Who was that man?"

"Nothing, mama. And no one. She's just making up stories because she's jealous that Patrick doesn't want anything to do with her."

"Now, that's a bit mean, don't you think? They are family and good friends. Even if he is promised to marry you…"

Mary paused and looked to her mother. She wanted to scream, to implode, to cry until someone was able to reach out and understand her. Instead, she stood at the forefront of a stifling world without a net to catch her if she stumbled. Without a look of sympathy or word of guidance. She felt more self-loathing than ever.

"Here, Lady Mary," came Anna with Mary's shawl. Cora looked to her suspiciously.

"Mary… where are you going?"

"Cousin Patrick told me to meet him and his father for tea at noon. Come now, you don't really think I'm speaking to any of these Americans? Or, anyone with new money, for that!"

"Oh, darling! If only your granny could hear you. I can imagine she'll be quite glad she wasn't invited for this outing."

"Mama, don't joke. I'm not in the mood."

"I can see. Well, I'll let you go, but Sybil is accompanying you."

"What? Why?"

"She's not having any fun at all. She's had her coming out! Do try treating her like a proper young lady now, please?"

"Fine," groaned Mary, just glad it wasn't Edith. "Tell her to come along," she took her shawl from Anna and walked by the pair. "I'm leaving now."