Part Five – Her Wedding Day

Feeling her hands tremble, Rose heard the organist begin the wedding march. It was the start of something, startling her with a rude instruction to walk. Walk towards the man who would be joined with her. Become her husband.

Rose Elizabeth Hockley would be born.

Clutching her bouquet of lilies as with closed eyes, she uttered a silent prayer, enough to get her through the day. In fact, just to get her through the next few minutes. She could feel her veil and her tiara digging into her head like nails; the only missing thing was the blood slowly trickling down her perfectly made-up face. She couldn't even put one foot in front of the other knowing that there were five hundred people waiting for her right now. Five hundred members of Philadelphia society who have come to witness the marriage take place. How could that many people possibly have an interest in her? How was that many invites sent and responded to? How had all of this been arranged at such an expense and yet, her own mother was in financial ruin. Taking another breath, she waited for a calm to come, but it didn't.

Rose didn't want to marry him. Never had. Another's name had forever been etched into her heart and there was no way she could ever let him go. But she had. It had been two months previous at the yacht party he had last appeared in her life.

Why had she allowed him to leave her there at the bottom of the staircase at the Astor's Rhode Island home and disappear from her life when he had provided the only happiness and honesty, she had ever had in just four brief encounters? Hindsight had gifted her with something of an answer; Rose had been vulnerable. Scared. Alone. Crying. Desperate. Naïve...

Jack Dawson had held her. Unable to let her go, or so it felt. Those words; if you jump, then I would have to, too. I am too involved now...

There was something missing from her insides. It was a hole. A huge gaping black hole of nothing. Time didn't fill it. Returning to the daily tight schedule which one had kept before the engagement hadn't ensured her mind to remain vacant of what had truly happened between them both. Which was nothing. Perhaps it was the mystery of his presence which appealed to her, or even the raw sentiments of which he spoke, never in riddles, never recited, but from his heart, which she knew could only be made of pure gold.

Rose's melancholia had set it terribly since. There was never even a discussion of anything. Ruth simply busied herself with the newly laid plans; the bridesmaid's dresses were lavender; the bouquets were her flower of choice. Truth was, none of it mattered. Truly, why should it?

The guilt had crippled Rose momentarily; for all they had gone through but deep down, she knew her mother wanted the best for her. Perhaps Jack wasn't the best choice for a parent; on paper Caledon Hockley was wonderful, but what about the way her heart felt, the way her body reacted to Jack and the way she reverted with Cal. And then the other factor; there was something frightening about living out in the world alone without Jack and something freeing about living without Cal. Without the ring, without the bounds of marriage – or perhaps it was just the bounds of Society and Mr. Hockley was the tutor of it? Initially, Rose had become flattered by his affections; how could one not when outwardly he was a wonderfully handsome gentleman? Yes, their thirteen years age gap did raise some eyebrows but most welcomed their match with a great appeal.

Their courtship was brief; he complimented her, ensured that the latest fashions filled her wardrobe and that they were at all of the Gala's, the polo matches, the museums and gallery openings – they were endless. Her social calendar was full to the brim for three complete months all escorted by Cal and there she learned the skill required to become the wife of a wealthy heir to a steel fortune. It became like a pattern, a steady routine or a part in a play. The lead role. The role of a woman deeply unhappy in her engagement to a man who she had slowly grown to despise, a man who slowly stifled her, changed her beyond recognition and removed all traces of the girl he had met and replaced her with a carbon copy of the other socialites who hung from their husband's arms dripping in diamonds and playing the trophy wife.

A rebellion begun as Cal had escorted them to New York to his Rhode Island estate; Rose's first time there six months ago. Cal had given them adjoining bedrooms. It was from then on, Cal attempted to coax Rose into his bed, first via romantic gestures and then, by simply asking her to come to him. Of course, her excuses were to wait until they were married. She had been raised a good Christian girl and any sort of relations before marriage were a sin. Even a simple kiss would have been against what she had been taught, but somehow, during those four, brief, beautiful meetings in the darkest of places with Jack Dawson, if he would have kissed her, then she would have absolutely sinned; for him. To feel the pressure of his lips against hers, even once. To feel the tingle of his touch. The way his breath would feel mingled with hers so closely. He would be tender; he wouldn't handle her with anything but kindness and sincerity. She knew it. Or what that another painful illusion? Paintings of a man that she had depicted adolescently in her mind over the course of a year? Heavens, she was truly deranged, feeling the pain in her heart, pulling at her and darkly taking over her slowly. The lump in her throat had turned to a vile bile, burning its way down into her chest.

Rose's thoughts came back to the present as she felt her two maids brushing the white dress which adorned her slender body. The unruly auburn curls were twisted about, pinned into another place and any bits dusted off her shoulders. The veil was adjusted. Standing deathly still, the maids fussed her, preening her, turning her into the damned perfect bride.

At the altar, stood Cal, alongside the three bridesmaids; some relatives whom her mother had invited to stand at the front of the largest church in Philadelphia beside Rose, who they barely were acquainted with. They were not from her father's side, who she was more used to socialising with, but from the DeWitt's, the dreaded crème de la crème of Pennsylvania society, the ones who Rose was sure her mother was in need of impressing and showing the largest, most lavish wedding off to. It was back to the moths, bashing over the flame again. Truly an endless parade of luxuries to impress the other, to out-do the other. It was forever a competition of kinds, but there was never a winner because the parading of possessions was endless. When one thought it wouldn't become more ridiculous, another outdid them. Wealth; a blessing and a curse. Pity the day that they should ever lose it. For what would happen then? The removal of their money would send them all scurrying off like poor church mice, possibly before they were seen, to save their final shred of dignity.

The Heart of the Ocean necklace sat around her neck; a dreadful stone which Cal had presented to her just three days before at their wedding rehearsal dinner. It was heavy around her neck; chaining her to Cal in another way, and to be viewed amongst society for the first time in just a minute or two as just another reminder of how wealthy the Hockley's were. The Heart alone cost enough to feed several small countries but why would that matter when his bride was wearing it?

Peering about the corner, weary eyes saw Cal's nonchalant face, her mother's beaming smile, greeting the guests and the vicar stood at the altar. The entire charade had such a precise precision in place to ensure that it went without a hitch. All was lined up like a game of chess; the only missing piece was her. The bride.

For a brief second, a thought of running away trickling slowly into her mind, it flickered for a second and then, it hit her at full speed. Wanting to laugh, Rose clutched the bouquet tighter feeling how the stems of the lilies almost break her skin with the tightness of her grip. A single tear fell down her face and quickly she wiped it away. Her mother would know just by looking at her face that she had been crying. She felt her breathe become caught in her throat. There, a plan had been hitched in her mind already...

''Jack,'' she whispered to herself. Now, more than ever, guidance was required. He was one person who always seemed to know just what to say, even when it wasn't the most rational or realistic to her.

In just a few moments, she would join Cal and be his wife. To belong to him. Giving herself to him in mind, would also allow him access to her body. How could she allow Cal to kiss her and make love to her on their wedding night? There wouldn't be a way to lightly tread and she couldn't push Cal away forever, she knew that he would want to consummate their marriage over and over. Only denying him that right would lead to her becoming known as a frigid, cold wife...

Then, a note was pushed into her frail fingers by a maid, who's face furiously blushed, as though knowing that she was committing a sin by giving the paper to the woman who was about to become the wife of a powerful man. Startled by the fact that she had no clue who it was from, aside from the tall, elegant letters which read out a cryptic message, all she could do was open it.

Make it count. If you don't wish to meet him at the altar, then I am beneath the ticking hands of the clock. I am waiting in the wings, as I always was. I always will be.

Waiting? Who was waiting? The note made very little sense. The tears which had once clouded her vision were now completely clear to see through, having dried up completely.

Hearing the whispers of the people in the church, Rose knew they would be contemplating when her arrival would be. She thrust the note into the top of her corset, allowing it to nestle between her breasts so that it would remain unseen. She felt the prickle of it, like it was a niggling reminder of the strange message.

Nodding her head, knowing what she would have to do, she was about to take a step forward, out towards the altar when she realised that she couldn't. Almost as if her feet were glued to the floor and she was been held back. And, then it dawned on her. She almost ran to the doorway which led out to the altar, causing those seated nearby to her gaze in utter disbelief. There, though, with wide eyes, she searched for a clock. Of course, the oldest grandfather clock in the town was housed there. About twelve feet in height, it was hung above the vestry door and beneath it, there was a familiar figure about twenty paces away.

''Oh, heavenly father...'' She almost collapsed. her legs went boneless and she had to gather herself in a split second in order to gain any grip on reality.

Jack Dawson.

How had he managed to get into the church?

With five hundred faces. It cannot have been hard.

Something inside of her snapped, she couldn't do this…she couldn't marry Cal. But then, her mother was stood at the very front, proud and doting upon her. Depending upon her. Though the weight was severe upon Rose's shoulders, it drove her. It was that; the sheer and utter guilt which drove her forward. Clutching the bouquet as though her life depended on it, her feet moved her forward and onwards. This was the very moment which she had been dreading for so many months but now it felt completely easy to do.

Caledon Hockley was beautifully attired in a black suit, with white shirt and waistcoat. His hair was styled in a fashionable way. Her mother was lovely in a dove grey dress suit, at the front beside the members of family which she vaguely recognised from the many events of the last year. The gasps of wonder, of seeing the young and admittedly, lovely bride heading towards the handsome man who could provide a fairy-tale ending was wondrous to them all.

Resisting the urge to glance at the back, to the man stood waiting for her beneath the large clock and vestry doors, Rose carried on to the front until she was eye to eye with the church's preacher of many years. She knew his name. She had attended church over the years but at this moment, nothing seemed to make sense, as though her memory had become erased. It was like everyone was speaking a language that she didn't understand, or perhaps that she didn't speak at all.

The ceremony must had started for the guests had seated. All eyes were upon her, upon Cal. Even his eyes, those dark and almost dangerous onyx colours watched her as though he was assessing every move. Rose tried to remain calm, to appear as though everything was all right; outwardly, she was everything that a well brought up girl should be, but inside, she was screaming muffled sounds and a hand was slowly across her mouth.

Suppressing...

Stifling.

Daring herself, one small glance to the man beneath the clock. She could see the shadow of worry across his face. The frown lines of his forehead. The heavily sagged structure of his shoulders but as they gained the briefest of eye contact; those blue eyes sparkled and his mouth set into a grim, hard smile but seemed to turn just lightly at the corners. It'll be all right. He had told her, that first day they had met.

Would it?

''If anyone can show just cause why this couple should not be joined together, then speak now, or forever hold your peace.''

The beating of Rose's heart must have been heard by all present. Silence completely fell over the ceremony. Over her life. Half, she expected for there to be a slight voice of the man who she wished would intervene but there was nothing of a sigh. A whisper. Another glance about to him, but he appeared grief stricken. Almost, terrified. Realisation then dawned; he couldn't save her. This was never up to him to save her. The power was within her hands. Truly, for the first time ever.

The damned choice was hers.

The decision was hers to make.

Suddenly, without even knowing, she was speaking aloud words that would be heard across the ears of society and tomorrow would be fed to the gossips and the tone wouldn't hush for some time but by then, Rose would not have to worry about anything. For she would be no longer tangled in the same web.

''I have to declare.''

A series of whispers seasoned across the church, and strangely, it was that which had given her reason to speak, to continue. To speak aloud and ensure herself to be banished from society, but also to be free.

''What is that, Miss. DeWitt Bukater.''

Loosening her grip on the lilies, she felt for the note nestled between her breasts. it seemed to burn into her skin and give her the means to speak. Without glancing to him, she spoke, praying for forgiveness in what she was about to say.

''That it is barely a day since,'' she paused, taking stance beside Cal and watching every facet of his face as she told him, ''that I gave myself body and soul to Jack Dawson, a working man; a waiter, someone who has dirty hands and-'' as she was about to continue, she was interrupted.

''And, if you wed her, then you would always wonder if your first child is mine, or yours.''

The collective eruption of gasps, mutters and whisperings collected amongst her peers and there, in the centre of the aisle, was a tall stranger; with hands thrust into his pockets, overly long sandy blonde hair and gleaming blue eyes. If Rose wasn't devastated before, she now was, for it was truly the first time that she had set eyes upon him in full day light. A laugh of relief almost escaped until the thump of the preacher closing his heavy bible brought them back to the reality. The severity of it.

Cal raised his chin, high. Rose forgot about the fact they were watched by the entire world and concentrated on him. His jaw was tight, his hands by his side fisted and yet he didn't say a word or even fidget. Instead, without so much as a glance, he spun and walked down the aisle which she had walked up minutes before believing that she would become his wife. he didn't even stop momentarily to look in the eye another man who had apparently stolen his fiancée's rights away. Jack had simply stepped to the side, and allowed him to walk away. To haul open the large, weathered church door and walk out into the hot July day. His father followed, muttering words of disgrace as he went.

Rose's bouquet fell from her grasp, her chest heaved in a hyperventilating state which threatened to overcome her until she managed to gain control. Even with all eyes upon her, the only thing in her line of sight was him. Her saviour.

Tears lined her eyes, blurring out the rest of the world until she blinked to see her mother's disgusted face before her.

''You will live to regret this, my dear, and so will he.''

Ruth was ashamed. Embarrassed. Beyond repair of society life now. And so was she.

The DeWitt Bukaters were dead.

''I don't think that I will, mother.''

The veil which had kept her innocent face away from the prying eyes of the vultures was suddenly torn from her head, the jewels gifted to her by the Hockley's were completely thrown atop it, the veil and flowers acting as a soft bed for the most expensive stones to lie. Her engagement ring, the Heart of the Ocean...every facet was dead to her. Pins freed her hair, flowers falling out of it with their petals ruined and split.

The only thing left of Rose DeWitt Bukater was a ripped wedding gown and stocking feet which she exposed, padding down the steps of the altar, down towards Jack.

She didn't know what she was about to do after that.

Glancing about at the five hundred pairs of silent eyes upon her, she curtsied one final time to them, for wasn't she a commoner now?

''This-this endless parade. It's over.''

She left silence in her wake.