Chapter four:

Rose sat in front of the dressing table mirror, staring at her pale reflection. Her hair hung loose in matted red curls, awaiting to be brushed. Her eyes were a mixture of fear, sadness, relief, and confusion. She had come so close to escaping her suffocating life, so very close. She had puzzled over whether it was a good thing that Mr. Dawson had convinced her not to jump from the ship, and that he had done her a favour in saving her life when she slipped on her beaded dress. Part of her was disappointed that she hadn't just been left to fall. That part was growing quieter and quieter as she thought.

Rose's thoughts were all of Mr. Dawson; especially how he had come to compel her with just the intensity of his gaze. How her entire universe had shaken just with his entrance into her world and then, she was also passionately infuriated with how he had simply removed his garments, one by one, slowly, as though it wasn't intoxicating enough to be in a presence of a man, who had not just stirred her stomach but her mind, too. Cal was a man who never stirred such a slight tumble of her tummy and her mind, well that, as refined as it was, had been made clear that it was as much use as mice were. There would never be a need for her to form an opinion, or to feel passionate of something aside from the colour of the flowers, or her gowns but, something had occurred, just temporally her melancholy had lifted and she had been infuriated with a near stranger and then terrified by his very presence.

Rose's own life was laid before her like a formal banquet. The further the Titanic sailed, the closer she was to becoming Cal's wife. The closer she was to being permanently trapped.

Both of them, she and Mr. Dawson, were at such opposite ends of the spectrum that it was almost a wonder as to the purpose of their meeting outside of society walls. What 'proper' male would be outdoors so late unaccompanied by a soul? One who seemed to be very straight, not one for prying on young girls as he so could have been accused of if Rowe had not taken his word so easily. Then, what 'proper' girl would be outside so late, also? It seemed to relate to a meeting which one would read of in a silly dime novel of which her mother hated her reading so often. It did feel to be a meeting of which one should be unable to forget, well, until Cal had invited Mr. Dawson to dinner the next evening, perhaps to indulge in a little light teasing rather than the real reason; to repay the debt to the young man for saving the life of his fiancé. Of course, the real reasons for their fateful meeting would never be revealed.

Rose opened her music box, and a sweet melody filled the air. It reminded her of her childhood. She was groomed to be a perfect bride for a rich aristocrat; she was taught everything a well brought up woman should know and social etiquette was drummed into her from a very young age. Despite this, she was still quite innocent of it all. When she was younger, she had no idea about the grand plans her parents schemed for her. Rose picked up her hand mirror and she looked at her reflection closely. She was seventeen. She was hardly out of her childhood and yet she felt so old at that moment. So weary, as though by knowing her future she had no need for energy and enthusiasm. However, as soon as she thought of the man who had saved her, she felt and saw her cheeks brightening, and something sparkled in her eyes. The first time her eyes had fully met his, she had felt something stir in her stomach, something which fluttered about almost like a loose butterfly. Under the dim light of the decks, she was struck by how blue they had been. He had dazzled her and now, examining the situation, she wondered if that had been the fore reason of her clumsy footing and the terror of the fall. Yes, it had been terribly heroic of him to help her, perhaps the most wonderful thing to ever happen to-

Rose heard a knock at her door and wiped the mirror before gently placing it back onto the dressing table, looking into the larger mirror in front of her to see who was entering. Cal stood in the doorway. As the door opened, he leaned against the frame casually. She pressed her lips together, preparing herself for their exchange in words. Once dressing for bed, his usual tactic was to bid her goodnight, to spend a few minutes in her presence and then remind her that if she so wished to come to his cabin, then she would be welcome.

"I know you've been melancholy," he said gently, almost lovingly, fitting in quite well with the still tinkling music box. "I don't pretend to know why," he continued.

Cal entered the room, closing the door behind him to ensure thorough privacy. He walked over and pushed the music box out of the way, sitting down on the dressing table. The music halted abruptly, the reminder of her innocent childhood gone, bringing Rose's thoughts back to harsh reality.

''I wish that instead of taking walks upon the deck, alone, in the cold, and almost, apparently falling aboard, that you would come to me. Do you know how it makes me feel when a man like Dawson is returning my own fiancée to me?''

Rose supposed she didn't care. It was maddening when a woman's own fiancé cared very little for the reason she was out there to begin with.

''You do not need to be outside studying marine propulsion.''

Rose remained silent, again. Studying his approach to her. She was stiff, hoping to make it clear she would be sleeping very soon and not returning to his room.

"I intended to save this until the engagement gala next week, but..." He sighed, flipping open a greyish black box and revealing the most beautiful necklace Rose had ever seen. It was a fascinating shade of blue and was glittering with a diamond chain. Cal continued, pleased that Rose was so taken aback by its beauty. "I thought that tonight…" he trailed off, as Rose reached out at the necklace.

"Good gracious!" she gasped.

"Well, this is a reminder of…my feelings for you." Cal grinned, a superior grin. He was back on top now, she supposed that he would believe. She was enthralled by the gift, and would therefore be enamoured with him once more, just as she had become during the beginning of their courtship.

''Is it a diamond?''

Cal cut her off. ''Yes.'' He leapt from the table and, grinning with pleasure, he placed the necklace around his fiancée's exposed neck. "Fifty-six carats to be exact," he explained. "It was worn by Louis XVI. They called it Le Coeur de la Mer…"

"The Heart of the Ocean," Rose translated, interrupting her fiancé, who seemed to assume she had no knowledge of French. He affirmed her translation. Rose was in awe of the diamond. It was so lavish, such an expensive gift. Her mother would be beside herself if she knew that Cal had given her such a token of affection.

She could not help but wonder at his reason for giving it to her. A reminder of his feelings for her? Did he love her this much? Or was he buying her with lavish gifts? Rose could not tell, but she was fascinated by the blue diamond. She touched it slightly with the tips of her fingers, half thinking that it would disappear and be her imagination. Cal held her eyes in the reflection of the mirror. She stared back at him; slightly praying to feel something of affection for him.

"It's overwhelming," she said in a rather unenthusiastic voice. As amazing a gift as this was, her melancholia refused to let her become more animated. She was feeling quite uncomfortable, and not just by the heavy, expensive diamond around her neck. Cal's stare made her feel somewhat fearful. She looked back to the diamond. It was heavy, like a dog collar around her neck. It seemed to dig into her soft flesh like nails.

"Well, it's for royalty," Cal answered matter-of-factly. "We are royalty, Rose."

Surprised, Rose looked back to Cal's stare. It seemed quite arrogant to class oneself as royalty. His family was wealthy. They were aristocratic, yes, but they certainly were not royalty. Cal moved closer. He leaned on the dressing table, staring intently once more.

"You know…there is nothing I couldn't give you, Rose."

Rose felt sure he was wrong. She was sure he could not give her freedom and happiness. She was sure he would not respect her as an equal. He was not talking of feelings, though. She knew he was talking of materialistic goods for that was all he could ever offer her, and that wasn't his fault, it was simply the way they had been brought up. She found that Mr. Dawson came into her mind and how the blue of the stone seemed to match the intensity of his eyes. Suddenly, she was drawn into the mirror, her eyes fixated onto the stone. Fixated on him; how had those kind eyes filled her entire universe upon that single first stare?

"There's nothing I'd deny you."

She'd be denied a voice. Denied choice in her life. He chose her meals, decided whether or not she could smoke. She looked at him, waiting for the 'but' or the 'if'. He turned from the mirror, finishing admiring her delicate beauty in such a virginal colour and looked at her directly.

"If you would not deny me."

Cal watched her, almost like a cat watched a bird; prey. His eyes imploring her for something, they seemed to radiate something frightening. Outside, he held composure, but those dark eyes showed he was some sort of animal inside. The heat emitting from them was intense. It was lust. It was desire. It was conveyed in such a way that he was not even asking. He was telling her silently that he deserved some sort of reward. The sort of reward which was found between her legs...

"Open your heart to me, Rose," he continued, his arm on her shoulder, nudging her slightly. Rose was filled with uncertainty and fear. He had just given her this gift; this lavish, expensive, almost romantic gift. She began to feel like she did owe him. She looked back in the mirror and her hand covered the blue diamond heart around her neck. She slowly moved her hand up along the chain until her hand was stretched around her throat, as though she were going to choke herself. The feeling of entrapment set in once again. The exhaustion of the melancholia settled over her, sending her into the dream-like state of which she floated through life most days. She was almost an outsider looking in, watching herself from afar like a moving picture.

The heart which he was so intent on her opening seemed to be intently closed. Was it her soul he was after exposing or just her body? Some nights since their engagement he had implored with her to stay with him, but there had always been a way to decline, somehow. The doors to her adjoining room would remain locked for as long as she could; hopefully until after the wedding. One should expect a husband to visit her rooms frequently after that, and there would be no denial of sating, whatever he felt, but now, she had a choice at least.

Cal, oblivious to her inner turmoil, leaned in and moved his lips onto hers. She was expecting it. She was dreading it, but guilt made her defenceless. She could hear her mother's voice echoing in the back of her mind.

"We need Cal and the fortune your marriage will bring. If you don't marry Cal, we are going to be destitute. Do what Cal says. Better to let him have you than to have us end up in the poorhouse with you making our money by being a streetwalker, God forbid."

Cal lifted her up, kissing her deeply. She hardly returned the kiss for she hadn't even known how to. Did lips move at all or in a practised fashion? Perhaps it would be something one became accustomed to over time. The kiss was not full of a promise, or love, of affection. It was nothing, rather than a pair of flesh feeling warm against hers and yet, inside she felt absolutely cold.

The necklace which felt as cold as the kiss, hung around her neck, it was a reminder of Cal's wealth and that him paying such an amount for a diamond, for her, was a measure of his power—not love for her. n a moment of clarity, she realised that she is a prize of great value; a statement to show the world how great he is. She isn't prepared to deal with this tonight, the blue stone seems somehow malevolent to her...large and out of proportion. Beautiful but ominous. To a girl who had just stood the boundary between life and death, the value of it changes dramatically. She struggled to appear grateful. Struggled to feel the need of his kiss, how his lips moved against hers wasn't like the wings of a butterfly, but like the clenching of something. As though he was squeezing, kneading and pulling at her and wordlessly requesting for her to join him revelling in the depths of desire when she felt as though she had been soaked with ice water instead. The feel of his lips made her rigid, tense and uncomfortable.

Turning away, quickly, Rose panted to catch her breath, as though Cal was sucking the absolute last remains of living away and leaving just an empty carcass, a shell, a girl who would be devout of any sentiment.

''Good gracious,'' she gasped, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, to dispel any wetness he had left there as though it was poison.

The kiss may had wet his appetite for lust, but any small notions of lovemaking Rose had sometimes pondered they could partake in once married, had disappeared and now only left a deep pit of dread.

''Indeed.'' Cal placed a single finger, tracing it across the back of her neck, before parting her curls and unclasping the necklace. Immediately, Rose felt the relief of freedom as she still gasped for air after their kiss. Once or twice before, he had pressed his lips to hers but never that way. Never so hungrily. Tears sprang to her eyes, as her womanhood was no doubt in sight, so soon. Her adolescence had disappeared at some point after her cotillion, and after her seventeenth birthday she had become engaged to be married. What had it been now? Five or six months...

''I am happy that you are delighted with the gift.'' Cal wrapped his hands about the heart, allowing himself to become dazzled by the sparkle before placing it back within the velvet box. As Rose saw the glittering sapphire colour, she was taken back to the stern, as she was pinned beneath the same sapphire colour in the eyes of a man; a stranger. Her heart race accelerated and she placed her palm at the flat of her chest as it flew, wildly.

''I am speechless, darling.'' For she truly was. This awakening, this fear of the unknown was truly unsettling.

''Can you imagine the faces if you wore the diamond to dinner tomorrow evening, to surprise them all?'' Cal's humour did not reach Rose. ''Dawson's face would be wonderful.''

At the mention of the reason of her stirring stomach, Rose turned to Cal, her face impasse. ''Are you acquainted with Mr. Dawson?''

''Somewhat.''

''Under what circumstance?''

Cal shut the velvet box, and pressed it to his chest, and his index finger rested under Rose's chin.

''Jack Dawson is the nephew of an old friend of my fathers. Harmless man, really. Apparently, he walks amongst us as though he deserves it, yet prefers to roll around Paris with the streetwalkers and bohemians.''

Rose blinked several times, as though the man who she had met this evening had a stark contrast to the one described by her fiancé. Could there be two men of the same description?

''You mean he inherited his money?''

''Yes, the largest steel company in Boston or so I hear.'' Cal raised his eyebrows. ''I also hear that he is never about to take seat at the damned office but then again, what could one expect of a man born into the lower classes? He is lucky really, that his uncle was smart enough to give him the chair.''

''I wonder how one can amass such an empire so young?''

''An empire?'' Cal laughed, cruelly. ''I would hardly Dawson Steel an 'empire', darling.''

At that, he continued to laugh, as though a joke was made but it wasn't meant to be heard by Rose. As though, she was a child in the company of grown-ups and the punchline wasn't meant for her young ears. As though, a woman couldn't understand such things.

''Well, I appreciated his help this evening.'' Rising from the upholstered chair, Rose raised her chin and glanced to the door, hoping that Cal would be leaving very shortly. It was already inappropriate for him to visit her room after dark. ''I think I will retire, today has been exhausting, as well as travelling and the excitement of this evening.''

''Yes, it has.'' Cal agreed, ''Sleep, sweet pea, and ensure that you're bright for tomorrow.''

As Cal approached, he leant into kiss her cheek, ever so lightly, and even with closed eyes, Rose couldn't find herself to relish his nearness but more dread it. As soon as he had gone, through the door and left her room, she felt the colour return to the world again, even just a slight bit.

Absentmindedly, her hand went to her heart once more and felt how it simply refused to settle. How it pounded. Almost as loud as the propellers which churned the waves below. Enveloped by her bed just minutes later, Rose closed her eyes and found herself drifting to sleep almost right away.