Chapter seven:

By the small hours, Rose had still not returned. Betrayed could not even cover it. There had been no note, a small word or nothing but Rose had followed through with her threat. It had, in fact, been a promise. Her goodbye had been real. If one could call it that.

Where could a woman like her go on a ship like this? Yes, she could hide out under blankets amongst the steerage passengers but what about when they separated the classes to disembark once they approached land. Yes, there would be no hiding then. The foolish girl had a matter of hours before she would be found and brought back; no steward would buy her as a member of the lower classes; her mannerisms gave her away.

Cal's eyes had been kept on the doors as breakfast had been served out to them in the vast dining room full of squalors lain beneath dirty blankets and their filthy children wailing. His brandy had sat firmly in his hand as he already glanced about the room, full of immigrants, the fear in their eyes although with Rose there, all of that would have been a distraction to Cal as he had pushed his food about on his plate as he was eyed by those about him.

Rose never had arrived to dine with him. She had left her world to be with Jack Dawson; he knew that was it. That had to be it, for nothing else had occurred since her meeting of that worthless little man. His teeth clenching together, so tightly that the pain in his jaw caused his eyes to squint.

Cal had given her everything; provided for her, even opened the heart he never realised he had. He had fallen in love with her, or something of the sort. There had to be affectionate feelings for her, there was no other reasoning for his damned temper to have accelerated to have to speed which it did without the ardour behind him. Despite their doubts, he had believed their impending nuptials to be a happy one. For the most part.

But no, he had been made a fool of, an utter fool. Jack Dawson; the scum Rose had known mere hours, allowed to put his hands on her whilst dancing below decks with the filth of the ship. The visions which Lovejoy had described had ingrained themselves into his mind and as soon as he was made aware; action had been taken. Lovejoy had ensured that Rose was protected enough for him to not come near to them again. The plan was one which was to fall through for even offering the bohemian rat money was not enough to keep him away from Rose. A higher sum could have been offered but wasted on such a worthless creature.

Once the Titanic had sunk; their life should have resumed. One should have taken solstice with the other and once they had reached New York, Cal intended on pulling strings to ensure the wedding would be fetched forward a week or two; it would have ended the melancholy and ensured Rose was his, and he was hers. Their days would have been filled endlessly in bed and with an heir in her belly before May was out, Rose would have had no time to be sad or feel lonely as she had in the past. She was nothing but a romantic dreaming fool but once the children had come; the days would have endlessly been filled for her. Christ, he would have given her plenty of them if it kept her off his own coat tails and happy.

Now, her engagement ring sat within his suit pocket.

Ruth approached the sitting room where he and Rose had argued just hours before, sensing some disturbance. She had taken breakfast within her rooms and even though note of the outside silence had been taken, especially amongst the hired staff; she had yet to receive news of her daughter's absence. Her ill-fitted emerald skirts swished about her as she stopped before him with hands upon her slender hips.

''What has happened?''

Cal turned on his heel to face the woman who could have become his mother-in-law.

''Your daughter has left us.''

Ruth narrowed her sharp eyes, observing the mess of the sitting room. Clothes were discarded about, a pack of playing cards askew. ''I beg your pardon?''

''Yes, in the early hours.''

''Left for where? This is a ship. There is only so many places she could be,'' Ruth glanced about before settling her gaze back to Cal, ''I see something has taken place.''

''Yes, your daughter struck my face.'' A small, almost unnoticeable red mark sat above his right cheek. ''She then threw the engagement ring to me, then left.''

As he pulled the ring from his pocket, realisation seemed to set in to Ruth, her eyes narrowing before she wrung her hands before her stomach.

''Oh, what an utter fool she is.'' Cal sensed Ruth was about to whittle herself into some sort of frenzy as she generally did when something too large for her to swallow could unsettle her. One had called for the doctors on more than one occasion and his own father couldn't help but think she was something of a hypochondriac, either that, or she had very little in her life to think about other than the fashions of the latest season the décor of her sitting room.

Her daughters' outward image was important to Ruth, and Cal had taken great delight in informing her that not only had her daughter caused this entire charade and was to blame but that she was far from the budding bride she had been made out to be.

''A bag was missing from my suite,'' Ruth began, ''one with a broken strap. I thought it was misplaced but-''

Perhaps this was a planned move for Rose. The pointers would all be indicating to that. Cal sat forward in the plush chair, his eyes focusing on Ruth. The woman who he had simply put up with for months on end in order to ensure that Rose was his; that she would marry him.

''-but she has taken it with her.''

''This is ludicrous! She has to be returned.'' Ruth sat upon the opposite wingback, pulling herself together as she did.

''Your daughter has left with Jack Dawson, I believe her to have been unfaithful to me, perhaps even whilst aboard Titanic.'' The latter was untrue, to his knowledge at least. ''I do not know what I would intend to do, even if she was to return. I would not want an untrustworthy bride.''

Ruth brought her trembling hand to her mouth. Not her daughter; could she be capable of such foolish things—out of character notions. Yes, she was an impressionable girl and yes, Dawson was a handsome man but Rose had been warned; he would bring nothing but trouble.

''I warned her of such things.'' Ruth said aloud, almost to herself. ''I warned her that he would result in trouble.''

Cal gawped. ''You knew?''

Ruth clamped her mother shut.

''She cared for him; I knew that much. We had a discussion the morning of the sinking-''

Ruth stood from the couch, as she began to pace the sitting room floor, her feet dragging along the rug.

''Oh Lord-'' Ruth closed her eyes to keep away the creeping headache. ''I was certainly not raised in a convent; a young girl lavishes attention when stowed upon her but not by a man of his station. He was a third-class passenger for heaven's sake! He roams about the country without a second thought; a man I am sure would not have escaped the inspection queue untreated for lice.''

''Indeed, it seems I have been kept in the dark by two scheming individuals.'' His tone was clipped and cold. He intended to rid himself of Ruth as soon as he could, but right now, he had to know everything which was to be unknown about the young man who appeared to have stolen his bride from beneath his nose.

He tried to soften, glancing at Ruth and she would need something to calm her damn nerves... Cal walked to the liquor stand and poured two finger full glasses of brandy. Ruth didn't usually drink such strong liquor at this hour no less but with the situation, she needed it.

Silence fell over the both of them as they mentally digested just what had happened over the course of the morning. Not only enduring the sinking of the Titanic; which had caused a great loss of personal items to both of them, not the dearest thing to them both had gone missing.

The ships hum was lower than normal, as though it had slowed down and that perhaps they would be approaching land sometime sooner that day.

''I can assure you, Cal. There is no secrecy on my part,'' Ruth lifted her gaze, ''I want what you do. Rose was lucky to have found a match in a man like yourself.''

Cal straightened his back. ''Indeed, she was. My own father warned me against it several times, knowing of your background.''

Ruth stiffened, finding money a vulgar topic to speak of.

''Several hundred has also gone from my coat pocket.'' Cal suddenly announced, as though something had threaded together in his brain. The brandy he swallowed quickly seemed to feed him more energy.

Ruth's mouth curved into an 'o'.

''My daughter would not-''

''Rose wouldn't. He would.''

Ruth found it difficult to swallow. ''But he has not been here, has he?'' She closed her eyes, trying to fathom something out, when she reopened them, she noted how red Cal's eyes were. How dilated his pupils were and how, now, in the clear daylight, it appeared he was playing some sort of a game, she recognised that look in the eyes of any man. ''Cal, what are you proposing?''

He stood from the arm of the chair, tall and towering above Ruth. ''I will have him arrested. Robbery. He took what was mine.''

He necked what was left of his brandy as Ruth still nursed hers. ''But she cannot be far, perhaps she will return. The money could have been...''

As the flashes of rage bubbled over inside, Cal felt the need to release his anger upon something; anything. It started in his belly, flooding outward into his limbs as he grew tense and more agitated, he smashed his fists into the wood of the drawers but he did not even feel a flash of pain. Empty brandy bottles cluttered the room and cigar butts littered the floor, the masses he had collected over the days aboard. The clouds of smoke he had retreated to, as he reminded himself constantly just how important of a man he was. How his family name caused Society to take note. How he was to inherit the steel empire which his own father had spent fifty years created and which would make him a millionaire God knows how many times over. He had summer homes, some of the fastest automobiles ever created and a grand mansion lined with the latest fashionable and luxurious furnishings and yet, the only thing which had caused him to grow into the ugliest version of himself was a girl he had agreed to marry, partly out of pity for her family. Yes, the girl was diamond of the season and he was the envy of every member of surrounding Society's as soon as Rose DeWitt Bukater had been seen upon his arm and so, he had taken a great deal of pride in showing her off, just as she had said. He had seen her as a pistol, as a firecracker which he would have tamed and handled her. His plan to ensure her liveliness to settle was to bed her as soon as possible and plant his seed firmly within her womb. She would have become pregnant at once.

''She will NOT return. How stupid can you be?''

Standing from the chair, Ruth placed her hands upon her chest. The vulgarity of which he had reacted enlightened her, shocked her to the very core. The nastiness which seeped out of him had frightened her to say the least; mostly due to the fact Caledon Hockley was always a very well respected and put together man. The shell facing her seemed to be telling a very different story.

''Did you know my husband took to the brandy, just as you do now. Even he, in twenty years of marriage had never spoken to me in such a way as you have. No man will ever speak to me in such a way again.''

The rage didn't dampen. His watery eyes gaze to Ruth and within her eyes, he saw her daughter.

''I see where she gets the damned determination from.''

''No, that was from her father.''

Cal was about to step closer to Ruth when he seemed to stumble about over some discarded object on the floor.

''If you step closer to me, then I shall toss this brandy over you as though you were a commoner in the street, do you hear me?''

Her gaze was sharp, her hand unwavering as she held out the full glass with untouched brandy. Her hand was not shaking, her breathing was not laboured and there was not one ounce of fear within the smaller woman's body. What did it take for a man to claim his authority anymore? The upper hand clearly was lost on the DeWitt Bukater ladies. That much would change. A little fear never hurt anyone to ensure they would back down and be put right back in their places; regardless of who it was. Even his Father had raised a hand to his dear Mother on occasion when she had stepped out of line and in the end, it was the hand which had kept her in line.

In this instance, Cal backed down, unable to find the strength to tolerate her silly and empty threat. He grinned, once. ''Clearly.''

Ruth softened, lowering the glass and placing it upon the nearby table. Glancing about at the state of the stateroom, Ruth pressed her hands upon her head, feeling it tighten there. Cal's own head was tighter; the stress of the entire week piling up against him second by second.

''I suggest that you clear up the mess which you have made and then find another suite to occupy until we reach land, once we find Rose-''

Cal listened to the ready-made plans which Ruth whittered on as his eyes rolled about, struggling to focus. He was beyond exhausted; he had consumed too much brandy; that much he did know but he would not sleep until he was sure that Rose would be his once more. There had to be a way to gain her trust, once more? Perhaps she could ever grow to love him after their tiff.

Ruth continued to speak to him, her gaze directed at the discarded contents upon the floor. She was not a woman to clear away a mess, she was also a woman who he found to be spineless; she needed him to fund her Godamned spending sprees, her home and her idyllic little life which without, she would be nothing.

He found his legs took him forward, out into the corridor as though he was floating. The focus didn't shift from the forefront of his mind. He had left Ruth behind, still planning their next days as though nothing could ever change.

Something had changed.

Rose had left him, for another man, of that much he was sure. Perhaps Dawson had touched her, in the way only Cal was meant to. His desire for her was at a fever pitch, his blood hot and his patience far too thin. His trips to the brothels had increased week after week just to keep the arousal at bay. If they had been married already, he would have claimed her mouth many times by now. He rolled his shoulders back as he tried to ward off the tension which had gathered there. His feet seemed to gather speed, as he went, ignoring any survivors lurking in the corridors. They had become almost part of the furniture now but he wouldn't be able to wait much longer without their presence clouding his every view. The sooner the ship reached land and he would be aboard his own train to his own home once more, the better. The White Star Line had already been informed of the assets which he had lost aboard the Titanic and the insurance claim would be filed right as he reached the City and then he would return to his home where every person knew who he was and spoke to him in high regard, as it should be.

Everything would be put in order; neatly in place. There was the one thing left which Cal needed to give his attentions to.

It was thoughts of Rose, giving herself physically to another which seemed to cause the rattling of anger to return within his chest. She had danced within the arms of another, touching her waist...her curves. Even if the woman hadn't been unfaithful; she had caused lasting damage. It was then he realised that it was jealousy which was driving him thoroughly mad. The green which he saw was coming out of every pore. His ego felt wounded...battered.

Jack Dawson was a peasant. He could easily be removed from the picture as quickly as he had appeared.

''Damnit.'' Cal spat as he staggered, as though his limbs were losing use and his balance was upset.

He clutched at his suit, with trembling hands. Searching frantically about his body as though his own life would depend on it, he found the damned thing which he was looking for. It had sat unused for a little while but he was still able to fire the thing straight; his pistol.