~*Five*~
The Dinner

I walked down the stairs of the grand staircase. Ruth on my arm. I was anxious to see how Dawson would turn out for dinner. But I doubted he would show up at all.

"There is the Countess." I said to Ruth, leading the way to the Countess of Rothes.

I took her hand in mine, kissing her knuckles.

"Good evening, Cal." She said with a smile. Ruth and her chatted away like old friends.

"Darling?" Rose's voice came from behind me. A handsome young man at her side. Dressed in a dinner suit and jacket. I had never seen him before. "Surely, you remember Jack Dawson."

"Dawson?" I asked astonished. I laughed. "We- well you look amazing. You could almost pass for a gentleman."

"Almost." Came his reply. Attempting to be sarcastic.

"How extraordinary." Ruth took my hand and we walked away from Dawson and Rose.

I pulled the chair out for Ruth, as we seated ourselves at the table. The band played somewhere behind us. Peaceful, though no one really listened.

Soon the rest of our group joined us. I sat between Rose and Ruth of course. Dawson sat diagonal from me, by Molly Brown.

I sipped the champagne. Silently wondering how Dawson must have felt. Being on the ship is one blessing, but being a third-class passenger in the first-class dining area is a completely different story.

"Tell of the accommodations in steerage, Mr. Dawson. I hear they are quite good on this ship." I had to suppress the urge to laugh as Ruth spoke these words.

I remained a gentleman though. Looking from her, over to Dawson.

"The best I've seen, ma'am. Hardly any rats." He said sarcastically. The entire table erupted into laughter, except for Ruth and myself.

"Mr. Dawson is joining us from the third-class. He was of some assistance to my fiancé last night." I explained. Everyone quieted down then.

Whispers went around the table. But I could hear them clearly. Mr. Guggenheim leaned into talk to Madam Aubert, his mistress. "What is Cal wanting to prove in bringing this buffoon here?"

She shook her head.

I wasn't trying proving anything. I merely thought this evening would be amusing.

I watched as Dawson declined the caviar. I smiled. Seeing how uneasy he was here.

"Where exactly do you live, Mr. Dawson?" Ruth asked.

"Well, ma'am. Right now my address is the RMS Titanic. After that I'm on God's good humor." Was his reply.

"You find that sort of rootless existence appealing, do you?" Ruth asked, lifting her glass to her lips. I looked back to Dawson.

"Well, yes ma'am. I do." He said.

"And how is you have means to travel?" Ruth asked. I sat silent, looking between them.

"Well I work my way from place to place. Tramp steamers and stuff. But I won my ticket on Titanic here in a lucky game of poker." He looked at Rose. "A very lucky hand."

I glared from him to Ruth. I took out my cigarette, searching my pockets for a match.

"Oh here you go, Cal." Dawson threw me his pack of matches. I caught them mid air.

"I've learned to take life as it comes at ya. I love waking up in the morning, not knowing where I'm going to be. Or who I'm going to meet. Why just the other night, I was sleeping under a bridge, and now here I am on the grandest ship in the world. Having champagne with you fine people." He lifted his glass to the waiter for a refill. Everyone laughed. Except, of course, Ruth and I.

"I figure life's a gift, and I don't plan on wasting it. You never know what hand you're going to get dealt next. I've learned to live life to the fullest and make each day count." He finished his speech.

"Well said, Jack." Molly lifted her glass slightly.

"Here, Here!" The colonel lifted his glass.

"To making it count." Rose said. I looked from her to the others.

"Make it count!" They all toasted. I lifted my glass last. Forcing a smile. Though thoroughly unhappy with Dawson fitting in so well here.

Again the conversation went to Mr. Ismay and Mr. Andrews. Talking about the ship. Rivets of all things, at the dinner table, Very absurd.

After dessert Colonel Gracie stood. "Join me in a brandy, gentlemen?"

I stood. Along with the other men. They filed out towards the smoking room.

"Joining us, Dawson?" Gracie asked.

He shook his head. "Nah, I gotta be heading back."

I walked over to him, patting him on the shoulder.

"It's probably best. It'll be all politics and business. Wouldn't interest you." I said, trying to make him feel inferior. I walked behind him.

I turned back to him. "Oh, but Dawson. Good of you to come." I smiled, throwing his matches back to him.

I left, walking by Mr. Guggenheim. The quiet atmosphere gave me time to think. I took my leave of the men, quickly. Going back to my rooms. I sat in the chair, sipping champagne.

Just then I heard a scraping noise towards the door. A paper slid under. I raced over and pulled open the door. But no one was there.

I bent down and picked it up. Slowly walking back to my chair.

I unfolded it, careful not to tear the cheap paper. Inside a note was scribbled in pencil.

Cal,

Just thought I would warn you.

What you are getting in to.

As you sit there in your chair,

Not having to truly care

She's with him, below deck.

In the steerage Sect

She dances with him to and fro.

So now where are you to go?

Do you know what she does behind your back.

Why of course, she's falling for Jack.

Just thought I would warn you.

So you won't be so blue.

Cal Hockley, I care for you.

There was no signature. Nothing. Who wrote this? I asked myself. And what's more important what if it's true.

I dashed to the door. I glanced down the hall, quickly spotting Mr. Lovejoy. I walked up to him.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Read this." I shoved the paper at him.

He silently read it to himself. "Who wrote this?" He asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Well go find out!" I demanded. He knew exactly what I meant. He headed for the third-class. To see what truth lies behind this note.