Hello once again lovelies, here's another update for you! Thank you to my loyal readers and reviewers, as always - Lowekey and Fiction.2020, have I told you lately that I love you for your consistent and supportive reviews?! TheBlackCrownedQueen: WOW, I am honored! Thank you for thinking so highly of my story, and for saying the absolute nicest things - you are too generous! And to my very special guest reader - I very much look forward to Saturdays now, too! I get to post another chapter - and read your lovely reviews :) I am so honored by the support and the interest you have in this story! And Rosie... as always, I just love ya to death, you know that ;) Thanks for getting me inspired to write a whole new angle to this story - without you, I think it truly would be incomplete!
This chapter is more gasoline thrown on a simmering flame. And we may have an inferno soon ;)
Once inside the dining saloon, Corrine looked up at Harry, troubled, but he studiously avoided her eyes. "Er... perhaps it might be better to stop in here for a bit, Corrine. It's... crowded out there."
She glanced around the room to which they had escaped, confused. Like the third-class dining room below, this space, too, was a sort of gathering area for survivors - the small steamer was, after all, bursting at the seams with the addition of over seven hundred extra people - only the population in this area was decidedly more upper-crust. And it was certainly busier than the deck had been. So his argument that it was less crowded didn't hold water; he obviously had other motives for coming in here.
What had happened out there, anyway? She had a feeling she had missed something important. And she hadn't even had time to process that he had called her his fiancee. That was the second time he had done so; he had also called her his betrothed on Titanic, when they had the altercation with that couple on the boat deck. What did he mean by it? Was he serious? He did seem to bandy the idea around quite a bit...
But before she could question him about either their odd encounter with Miss Ryerson outside or his decidedly unexpected endearment, his eyes lit up. "There is one person I want you to meet here, Corrine." He took her hand and led her to a woman almost as tiny as Corrine herself. Her arm was in a sling, and she wore an evening gown, incongruous in this setting - and yet, she appeared totally comfortable and at ease in it. Although not conventionally pretty, she had a vibrancy and charm to her that was apparent even when obscured by an obvious shroud of grief.
As they approached, the woman's eyes widened. Without waiting for an introduction, she blurted, "My goodness... you're the waif that he pulled off the sinking boat, aren't you?" She gave Corrine the once-over, but it didn't feel judgmental; instead, she was gazing at her with frank admiration. "Harold very nearly fell apart when he found you, you know."
Harry blushed deeply at that. "Corrine, I want to introduce you to Mrs. Harris," he said, turning to her. "She was in the collapsible I was towing. Mrs. Harris, this is Corrine Donnelly, my best girl."
Well, that answers that question, thought Corrine tartly. Now I'm back to being his girl.
"Please, call me Rene," she said, and reached out a hand to shake Corrine's. "Your young man is quite the hero, you know," she said effusively.
Beside her, Harry looked uncomfortable. "I wish you would stop saying that, Mrs. Harris."
"And I wish you would call me Rene," she reminded him none too gently. Corrine decided that she liked this formidable, sassy woman quite a lot. "Harold is too modest," she stage-whispered at Corrine. "He was very brave, and most definitely saved our boat from capsizing and sinking."
Intrigued, Corrine was about to ask for the details when a rich, mellow voice behind them said, "Mr. Lowe! I've been looking everywhere for you!" Corrine and Harry turned together to see an attractive middle-aged lady smiling at him.
"Miss Compton," Harry said warmly. "How are you? And how is your mother?"
"She's well... physically... but I was wondering if you could speak to her for a minute, Mr. Lowe. She's having a difficult time accepting Alexander's... demise." Her eyes grew sad, and she swallowed hard. "Maybe... if you could tell her that it was probably quick, and that he didn't suffer..."
Harry's eyes widened imperceptibly, and Corrine knew what he was thinking: that unless he was killed mercifully by falling debris or by drowning, his death was probably prolonged and very painful. Nonetheless, he replied, "I... if you think it would help her, Miss Compton, I would be happy to do so." With an apologetic look at Corrine, he followed the woman across the room.
Corrine stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to do or where to go and feeling quite out of place, until Mrs. Harris said kindly, "Would you like a cup of tea, Corrine? I would love to chat and learn more about you."
"Oh, I don't want to bother you-" Corrine began, but Mrs. Harris interrupted.
"Please - it would be my pleasure, and besides, I could use the distraction."
She said it matter-of-factly, but her tone couldn't completely hide her pain. Corrine's heart ached for her. She had deduced that her husband had gone down with the ship, and despite her outward bravado, Corrine knew that she had to be broken inside. She smiled at the older woman. "In that case, I'd love to, Mrs. Harris," she said gently.
"Rene," she said sternly.
Corrine laughed, marveling at this woman's resilience in the face of her grief, and dutifully complied.
The two women ended up having a lovely conversation over tea. Rene was very interested in learning the details of her unlikely survival, and listened avidly as she described leaping off the deck of the sinking ship and her fight to stay in the collapsible. Corrine then told her the story of how she and Harry met, and in turn, Rene shared her first meeting with Henry B. Harris, the husband she called Harry: "He was caressing the back of my neck at a matinee. I turned around to give him a piece of my mind, but I couldn't do it - he had the kindest eyes and the most gentle smile..." Her wistful smile turned tearful, and they cried together over her loss, Corrine putting her arm tentatively around her shoulders.
They kept the conversation light after that, and Corrine learned that Rene studied law before meeting Harry, and that currently, she served as her husband's most trusted advisor in his work as a theatrical manager and producer. They were soon joined by another woman, who Rene introduced as Mrs. Futrelle. The two of them were old friends who were coincidentally traveling on Titanic at the same time, although not together - and both had lost their husbands in the sinking, which had strengthened the already close bond between them. Mrs. Futrelle, who also insisted that Corrine call her by her first name, was a sweet woman with an accent Corrine could barely understand. Rene explained that she was a Southern belle, and Corrine hid her ignorance by nodding knowingly.
She was surprised to realize that she was genuinely enjoying her time with these women. It was a relief to know that not all rich women were as oppressive and domineering as the ones she had met in Southampton and on Titanic. She wouldn't even mind working for one of these women as a maid. Shyly, she told them so. To her mortification, they both laughed loudly at the idea.
Noticing her embarrassment, they hastened to explain. "Corrine, don't sell yourself short - you can do much better than being a maid to an eccentric woman like me," Rene said.
"I didn't mean to insult you, child," May reassured her. "It's just that we live very modestly; my husband Jack is a mystery writer- well, he was a writer..." She trailed off, and her eyes welled with fresh tears. "I'm sorry - it's still so new; I just can't seem to get used to the idea that he's gone."
"I'm so sorry for your loss," said Corrine sincerely, and patted her hand. "I can't imagine your grief."
May wiped her eyes with a handkerchief and sighed. "Thank you, dear. There will never be another like Jack," she said wistfully. "He was a good man - the best man I've ever known, and took such good care of me and the children."
"And Harry was the light of my life - my Harry, that is," Rene amended, looking at Corrine. "I don't know what I'm going to do without him." She looked down at her hands, for the first time that day seeming small and lost.
They were distracted by the sight of Corrine's own Harry, who was weaving his way back through the crowd, headed in their direction. His face lit up when he saw Corrine, and she beckoned him over. Just as he reached them, however, a stunningly beautiful woman swooped in and said to him, "There you are! I simply must speak with the man that everyone is calling the true hero of the Titanic disaster!" Harry flinched, but turned toward her politely.
"It looks like you're staying with us a little while longer while Mr. Lowe receives his medals," May said, dabbing at the last of her tears with her handkerchief. She put her arm around Corrine and winked.
"Who is that woman?" Corrine whispered to Rene.
"That's Mrs. Carter," Rene replied in a low voice so that they wouldn't be overheard. "Her husband was saved, too - and rumor has it that she's none too happy about it."
Corrine's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Why not?" she asked, bewildered.
"Again, only rumor - but it seems he's a bit of a ne'er-do-well. Billy Carter's father is a coal and iron baron. Billy, on the other hand, has devoted his life to being a sportsman and a scion of Philadelphia society," Rene explained.
"I can see why Lucile pounced on your Harold," added May tartly. "Women prefer their men to have a little... gumption."
Both Rene and May chuckled softly, and she laughed along with them, although she was starting to feel a bit disconcerted by all the idolization these wealthy women were directing at Harry.
A few other women drifted over, and soon there was a small coterie around Harry, far enough away for them to manage to ignore politely, but close enough to overhear. Corrine, May, and Rene kept their chairs circled so that they might better attend to their own conversation. Corrine watched Harry out of the corner of her eye. He seemed ill at ease, and once he threw her a look over his shoulder that bordered on desperation.
"Oh, here comes Mrs. Brown," Rene said, and Corrine watched as a woman with arresting features and a commanding presence bustled over to the group. "She's the one that's been organizing the efforts to help the steerage passengers by raising money and sewing clothes. She's given them a great deal of comfort, from what I've heard." Corrine nodded, impressed. She had heard about Mrs. Brown, even all the way in Southampton. She was a noted feminist and philanthropist in America, and of particular interest to Corrine, as she was the daughter of Irish immigrants and had risen from the working class to become a millionaire. She would have loved to speak with her, in truth - if the woman hadn't laid her hand on Harry's arm, and in a booming voice, asked him if he had threatened any more 'nabobs' lately.
The group tittered, and one retorted, "He only threatened the riff-raff, Margaret, not the real people."
Astounded and offended, Corrine looked at Harry. His face had gone white, and a muscle feathered in his jaw. "Actually, what happened was-" he began, but Mrs. Brown, who looked equally upset at the insult, leaned in. "Mr. Lowe, can you show them your gun, like you showed me the other day?" she said eagerly, in a clear ploy to redirect the conversation.
Reluctantly, he pulled the Browning from his pocket, to the rapturous gasps of the ladies in the group. Mrs. Brown smiled triumphantly, and Corrine noticed that her hand was still resting on Harry's arm.
"You'd better go retrieve your man," May said ominously, glancing over at them. "Margaret is looking mighty friendly... and she likes them young."
"But isn't she married?" Corrine asked, confused.
Rene snorted. "Married, but separated for years... which means she is free to do whatever she wants; her husband doesn't care one whit. Anyhow, Corrine will do no such thing. It's beneath her. I'll bring Harold over here myself," she declared, rising.
She marched over to the group and grabbed Harry by the elbow. "Pardon me, ladies," she said imperiously, "but Mr. Lowe is needed elsewhere. His fiancee requires his assistance in returning to her room."
There it was, that word again: fiancee. But she didn't have a chance to ponder it. At once, several regal heads swiveled on white-columned necks in Corrine's direction. She resisted the urge to pat her mussed hair and smiled self-consciously. Only Margaret Brown looked chastened to realize that she existed at all. The others turned back to the coterie and resumed their conversation as Harry was led away.
Corrine gazed up him as he stood beside Rene. He seemed strangely subdued; his eyes were troubled, and his forehead was once again covered in a slight sheen of sweat. Was he uncomfortable with all the attention he was receiving? And what kind of attention was it, exactly? With a growing sense of suspicion, she began to entertain the possibility that her own naïveté had been preventing her from picking up on innuendos that might be obvious to the others. And maybe, she thought with dawning realization, that's why the word 'fiancee' kept coming up. Maybe that was the only boundary these people respected. Although judging from the comments both May and Rene had made today, even the bonds of marriage weren't always honored. Corrine had grown up very differently: people got married and stayed married, went through good times and bad together, and somehow made it work. But these tales of divorces, separations, infidelities... they were foreign to her - and it meant that as an officer on a passenger liner, Harry moved in a world whose rules she didn't understand at all. Uneasily, she wondered if this was the first time he had been subjected to this type of behavior, or if it was commonplace.
Her thoughts were diverted when Rene announced, "I think it's time you take Corrine to her room." She said it tactfully but pointedly, and Harry quickly nodded his agreement. Before he did so, however, Rene reached up to Harry and hugged him hard. Surprised, he put his arms around her, hugging her in return. She pulled back to look him square in the eye. "I don't know if and when I'll see you again, Harold," she said, "but I want you to know that you'll always be my hero." Her eyes shone with sincerity and affection. "Take care of each other," she said, directing her comment to both Corrine and Harry. "Make the most of this life..." At that, she choked up, and Corrine rose to put her arm around her as well, providing the only comfort they could to this grieving but indomitable widow.
Harry and Corrine eventually bade Rene and May goodbye, with best wishes all around and promises to write after they returned to their regular lives. She hoped they would indeed be in touch in the future; she had liked both women immensely, and hoped to continue a friendly relationship with them.
As they walked past the group Harry had been speaking with earlier, they nodded warmly at him, and once they were past Corrine couldn't resist asking, "Exactly how many women did you save, Harry? It's becoming difficult to wade through your throngs of admirers." She said it lightly, but she couldn't quite keep the insecurity - and jealousy - out of her voice.
He made a noncommittal noise in his throat, keeping his eyes resolutely on the floor.
They stopped once more before they left the room, as Harry introduced her to Miss Fabian, the woman who had generously lent her the dress she was wearing. The petite woman politely complimented her on her appearance, and Corrine thanked her profusely. After promising to care for and return the dress before they docked, Corrine begged her leave, claiming exhaustion, and the two continued on their way.
After exiting the room, they walked past yet another group of young, well-dressed women standing on the deck, who lit up at the sight of Harry. One simpered and waved, but the rest just stood there, smiling flirtatiously. Once Harry and Corrine had passed, they clustered together in a circle. They must have thought they were out of earshot - but the wind carried their voices clearly to Corrine's ears.
"He was in charge of my boat," one bragged. "So I got to spend all night with him."
"You know, he's the only officer that did anything that night," she heard another confide.
"A real hero," the first one confirmed.
"And so handsome, too," she heard a third sigh.
A growing sense of worry and consternation was gnawing at her. She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she failed to notice his own unease.
Irene Harris is hands down my absolute favorite female Titanic survivor. Scratch that - she didn't just survive, she LIVED, carving a place for herself in the male-dominated theater world after her husband's death with fearless aplomb. Truly an extraordinary woman. And she adored RealLowe ;) I think that might have been part of the reason he received such glowing mention in 'A Night To Remember' - because Irene/Rene/Renee Harris was still alive at the time the book was written and spoke highly of him to Lord.
I relied on Encyclopedia Titanica biographies as well as other sources to flesh out the personalities of the other first-class characters in this chapter. Margaret Brown (who, despite what Cameron tells us, was never known as 'Molly' in her lifetime) was a philanthropist and suffragist who truly lived life on her own terms; she even ran unsuccessfully for the US Senate. She and her husband were separated in 1909 and remained so for the rest of their lives. May Futrelle kept her husband's memory alive by completing his last unfinished novel and promoting his work for the rest of her life. And Lucile Carter divorced Billy Carter in 1914; one of the 'cruel and barbarous treatments' she cited as grounds for the divorce was that he had deserted her and their children on the Titanic.