So, this ends at Chapter thirty-ish, with the full intent of writing a sequel as I really feel it wouldn't be done in one full story. I have lived and breathed this story for about a month so will be posting this and the possibly working on the sequel because I truly feel exhausted by it and need fresh eyes to think of where to go. It is essentially the story of Titanic but with a complete different take, if that makes sense. I honestly feel proud of it, and hope you continue to enjoy it.
Chapter six:
As Jack led Rose past the shuffleboard court, with her hand at the soft feel of his outer jacket, she paused momentarily to take the air on the Promenade. The deck was full of finely dressed men and women, all taking the mid-morning air alongside them, now that breakfast was through.
''So, is he a good man?'' Jack asked her, out of nowhere. ''He must be for you to be marrying him.''
Contemplating her answer, Rose decided on, ''You will see for yourself tonight at dinner.'' She wished to ask what they knew of each other prior to meeting last night, but thought better of it, already knowing her fiancé's low opinion of Mr. Dawson.
Rose looked at him, surprised to find him staring at her so raptly in the open space. His head was tilted back, and then forward. Rose took stock of the deck's other occupants and the nearest individual was a few feet away.
''You do not wear a hat outdoors,'' Rose muttered, ''I have yet to find another gentleman who refuses to properly attire to walk.''
The toe of his boot kicked against the wood of the deck, and then he laughed. It was the first time she had heard the majestic sound but it made her own toe curls within her slippers. It was so—masculine and genuine. ''Miss. DeWitt Bukater, I have met you twice outdoors and neither time you were wearing a hat when I do believe it is customary for a lady to do, so.''
Rose froze. Her lungs seized. Jack raised his left eyebrow and she suddenly felt breathless. Powerless. Stuck between that silly temper of hers which threatened to flare and cause a scene in retaliation or simply offer a smart remark only none came to mind.
''What of you?'' Rose started, determined to be less maudlin – or affected by the smaller issues such as the sound of a man's laugh. ''You are unwed?''
''Yes.''
''Never betrothed.''
''Never a desire to.''
That caused Rose to stop to blink at him. How dangerously handsome he was. The fine cut and quality of his black coat and the beautiful silver-threaded embroidery in his white waistcoat enticed the eye to linger and admire. His black breeches hugged powerful horseman's thighs, a sight that made her feel things she oughtn't. But that was merely the packaging. It was the man inside the trappings who so appealed to her. The magnetism he exuded. The sense that at any moment something extraordinary would happen. She looked away, seeking the clock to distract herself.
"You're hardly a gentleman." She startled herself by feeling . . . pleased by that.
"You wreak havoc on a man's ego," he said with a slight smile to soften the sting. The tiny warmth in her chest blossomed. "You're flushed." His voice lowered, examining her face beneath the beautiful warmth of the sun. "I wanted a few moments of your time before I'm restrained by decorum this morning-"
"You will be restrained by me, young man." Rose turned as Regina, Lady Collingsworth, entered their reverie like a whirlwind. She was a guinea-blond matron with piercing blue eyes and cherry-red cheeks. A sweet and pleasant woman for the most part, she was capable of a great force of will, and she took in Jack's appearance with a steely glance.
Wagging a closed fan at him, she said, "You are a pretty fellow, Mr. Dawson. Accustomed to testing your boundaries and finding little resistance, I bet. But I will not tolerate such nonsense around little Rose here, she is a fine woman.''
''I wouldn't think of it, Lady Collingsworth.'' Jack replied, with a slight smugness. ''In fact, I find myself being the one, shall we say, falsely accused of many things just over a mere twenty-four hours.''
''Such as what?'' She asked, curiously, fluttering her fan furiously as though the sun was boiling point.
''I couldn't say, ma'am. I offer full discretion to the occupier of those words. I am a man to keep my word.'' His gaze warmed. A smile curved his lips. He relaxed and then his focus was utterly on Rose. It was as though, in such a simple word, he could utter the truth to her, the largest of the gossips, aside from her mother, but no, Rose trusted him and did with every ounce of her heart.
''Oh, do tell...''
''Forgive me, Lady Collinsworth, I did promise Miss. DeWitt Bukater a stroll aft.'' Jack squeezed her hand where it rested upon his forearm. Averting her gaze, from the gaping mouth of Lady Collinsworth, Rose held in a giggle, appallingly baffled by his behaviour, but also it was refreshing to have someone who floundered the rules of society just as much as she wished to.
''Did you have to ruffle her feathers, so?''
''Yes, she is a hideous gossip. You know as well as I that she would be insinuating an affair before supper.''
Rose almost tripped upon her own feet, luckily, she was grasping onto Jack's arm tightly. If he noticed, he said nothing and simply steered them aft as promised. Glancing about the deck, she found a number of women ogling him or casting surreptitious glances in his direction at regular intervals. He could have any woman he wanted. One who was charming and flirtatious. Knowledgeable. Yet this was a man without a desire to marry. Only with a desire, for, well freedom, as far as Rose had made out this far.
''Tell me more of your life, Mr. Dawson-''
''-Jack.'' He offered, nodding at her to use his given name.
''Jack.'' She said slowly but knowing it wasn't proper to use his given name, not out in public at least.
''Well, there isn't much to know, other than perhaps I just feel like a tumble weed blowing about in the wind.'
''As in there is no attachment?''
''No. I am not attached to this life, nor to any other. I require to attend the important events deemed by society's social calendars. It for clients mostly, to gather attention and shameless advertising of the company, if you will. I feel like an imposter. I am not a great showman or host; that was my uncle.''
''Is there no other who could potentially have filled his shoes?''
''Perhaps. Uncle has a cousin in New York, but he was not accustomed to the business matters. I feel a duty to honour the one thing which he will leave behind as a legacy because the man came from nothing. My father and he were born in a farming town and though pops never left to see the ocean as he so wished to, Eric was the one who left as soon as he was able to.''
Rose realised with some surprise that he was upset. He felt slighted, although that hadn't been her intent. She thought it best to spare them both the awkwardness. That was not, however, the explanation she could give. Conversing in society had little to do with truth. It was more about keeping everyone's feelings as neutral as possible. For many, the truth was not a neutral topic. This, however, was not a usual conversation to be had in public. Jack Dawson showed empathy, emotions and he was—real. Very painfully real. Just as she was about to respond, Rose froze with her mouth partially formed around a word.
''Hey, Dawson, you're still out here?''
Molly was approaching from the opposite side of the deck, beside Rose's mother and the Countess of Rothes.
''Oh, dear, brace yourself, you're about to meet my mother.'' Rose muttered quietly, as she felt Jack laugh. He was such a compelling figure, even her mother could not distinguish his vibrancy as Ruth set her eyes upon him like a snake.
''Well, hello again, Molly, yes, we decided to walk the whole deck to keep up the exercise and of course enjoy the fine weather.''
''Mother, Countess, this is Jack Dawson.'' Rose introduced Jack, who smoothly held out his hand to both women. ''Mr. Dawson was kind enough to help me just last night when I was almost thrown overboard after looking at the propellers. He was able to stop me.''
''Well, good gracious, what a tale to tell.'' The countess was curious of the gentleman. ''Is it true you're in steel, Mr. Dawson?''
''Yes, ma'am.''
''And that you supplied a large amount for this very ship?''
''Indeed.'' Jack nodded.
Rose felt the glare of her mother upon her face, and averted her gaze to the conversation before them. Jack Dawson handled the trio of gossips like a professional and yet, Ruth said not one word to him, directly.
''My, that is very interesting.'' The countess was stoked to have made to fresh acquaintance. Ruth, however, took advantage of the lull in conversation less than a minute after having met him.
''Rose, come dear, we are to dine with the Wideners.'' Ruth held out her hand as though she was ushering a child.
''Actually mother, I think I will stay in the sun.''
''Please, Rose, they will feel snubbed.'' Ruth muttered low, almost warning to Rose, but it wasn't unnoticed by the others.
''Sweet Jesus, leave the poor girl alone. Time to loosen the reins there Ruth.'' Her mother was horrified at been spoken to in such a manner. ''If she is old enough to marry then she can stay and chatter with Mr. Dawson. At her age nobody told me what to do.''
Smiling through noticeable gritted teeth, Ruth raised her chin before tilting it and glancing downwards to Mr. Dawson. ''Very well, I shall see you for dinner this evening. Please, though, go put a hat on, you don't wish to have such terrible skin for the engagement gala next week.''
With flared nostrils, Rose bit her temper back. ''Yes, mother.''
Her jaw tightened, standing still as they passed and continued their way on towards the First-Class entrance leaving Rose stood, rooted to the very spot and in such a mood which led her to the stern the evening before. An approaching porter stopped before her, to offer refreshments.
''Ma'am, care for tea or cocoa?''
''No!'' A frustrated, exasperated snap came, and Jack's laugh broke free into the breeze.
''You're a pistol, Miss. DeWitt Bukater.''
''So, they tell me.''
Jack withdrew his pocket watch and checked the time. It was about the time that ladies took their teas indoors along with a slice of cake or whatever it entailed.
''Would you care to have refreshments in the Palm Court? I hear they serve excellent coffee and I have yet to break my fast.''
Rose faced him. He was a head taller than her. ''You care for refreshments?''
''I don't care for much, Rose, other than spending more time with an interesting, unhinged woman like yourself.'' Jack narrowed his gaze at her, and Rose didn't know if it was to dissect her or because of the suns glare. Either way, Rose was rooted to the very spot.
''Oh, how I wish that I could be like you. Just to head out for the horizon whenever I feel like it.''
''You make it sound as though I can with great ease.''
''But, you can. You are not bound the way that I am, socially tied to another. Tell me that you travelled across America, to the ocean, to the places where no one would ever care of your social status.''
''I did. I worked out in California for some months.''
''Did you know that women can vote there?''
''Yes, it is liberating.'' Jack gained her stare and examined her in perusal. ''I believe that it's a place like that where your mind would flourish.''
''What is it like?''
''The people are alive. I worked on a squid boat in Monterey and on the pier in Santa Monica; there are a lot of fishermen out there, they just sit all day and wait for the catch. It's beautiful, with the nature and the simplicity. They even have a rollercoaster...''
''Say we shall go there some time to that pier? Even if we only ever talk about it.''
''No, we shall go.'' Jack told her with an urgency within that surprised him. ''''I'll take you horse riding on the beach, right in the surf. We can drink cheap beer and ride the rollercoaster until we throw it all up!''
Rose giggled, so loudly that the passers-by gawped at her outburst. Her delicate hand cupped her mouth and she gazed out at the endless ocean. His own smile faded, and a pinch so hard overwhelmed him, as though he wished, no, willed to ensure that she was this happy the entire time. Why should she deserve less? The depressive state followed, until she responded.
''I have a cast iron stomach, but do you mean, ride a horse properly?''
''Yes, one leg on each side.''
''Do you speak from experience?''
''Yes, you have to ride like a real cowboy, right until the surf so that the water comes at your face, splashing you and there is nothing more refreshing.''
He cocked his head to one side to process her; to watch her just move and be, so natural. It felt as though she had started to allow him in a little more, her guard was coming down, although not too much but for now it was enough. Enough for him to be able to reach in, just the tiniest part. He didn't want to remove anything from her, just to allow her to open up; let the barrier down, just a slight part.
''I wish to live that way.''
Rose's gaze fell over Jack; he was around her age she would guess. His eyes were the palest blue and each time he pinned her beneath his intense stare, it was as though she was watching the ocean directly. Perhaps that was the reasoning for the intensity, as though to linger on his watch would cause her to act purely on impulse and it would impair her thoroughly. Impair her judgement and her behaviour about him, as though there was no care within their young lives. It felt almost freeing until she caught rein of herself. To be young and reckless would-be wonderful right now, but there was too much weight upon her shoulders to allow that to happen but she couldn't pull her guard back up to the top, not just yet.
''You'd like to live each day as though it was your last?''
He didn't hide his surprise.
''Yes.''
Jack pressed his lips together. ''Stick with me, I can take you all sorts of places.'' As he revealed gorgeous white teeth with his wonderful but wicked grin, Rose found it was absolutely infectious.
''And, what intentions do you have?''
Jack placed his hand on his chest, feigning offence. She had wondered about this man and she realised that her curiosity was stronger than it had ever been. Curiosity to know his story, possibly as much as he wanted to know hers.
''Completely honourable, my lady.'' He bowed, in a mockery British accent, and she held her face straight until his stance was straight once more and then raised her eyebrows, amused and taken aback by the difference in persona. A moment later, she felt serious,
''So, why the need to not marry?''
He smirked. ''So many personal questions from you. And, yet you avoid the ones which I have asked you. ''
She sighed, defeated. ''The truth is, Jack. There isn't much to tell about me, past what I have already shared.'' Her eyes turned vacant as she gazed out at sea. Another attempt to distract herself. It was the truth.
''I don't believe that one bit.''
Rose nodded. ''It Is true.'' She insisted. She wasn't lying, she felt she had nothing to offer him in terms of her own life's story. It was very—bland.
''I bet your life is much more exciting than what you do allow me to believe.''
''No,'' she shook her head, in absolute truth.
''There is nothing fascinating about you, at all?'' Jack raised his eyebrows. He could think of several himself in that moment, and that was of less than a day of meeting her.
''No.''
Jack raised his eyebrows. ''So, let me ask you something.''
Exhaling, Rose prepared herself for another cutthroat question.
''All right.''
Jack pressed his lips together. There was so much he needed to know but the first question came to his head.
''Why did you agree to marry Hockley?''
''I-I guess there was a flame, once. An infatuation of some kind.'' Rose told him, flatly, without an ounce of emotion within her voice, or so it seemed. "It may remain some sort of flicker but I don't quite know if it does. Times I feel overwhelmed and others simply numb."
''I see.'' Jack nodded, in agreement but then he hesitated his next words. ''That is true. But I have the feeling that there's more to it than that.'' Rose drew a deep breath. He sensed her discomfort and immediately felt guilty. ''I'm sorry I-''
''My father, he left a serious amount of debt,'' she closed her eyes as the words came out. The first time that she had uttered them aloud, and yet there was some sort of relief which followed as she revealed the truth. ''Mother spent the remainder on my cotillion as she tried to find a suitable husband for me. I was introduced to him that evening. It was as though he was waiting in the wings.''
Jack's stomach jerked downward, as though he had fallen without an aid from a great height. ''So, this is a business match. To save your family name?''
''Yes. You know as well as I do that love matches are a rarity. Perhaps if one is lucky, when they marry for company or business, a couple may grow to have affection, even love but never the sort I believe a woman truly deserves.''
''Yes, you would deserve that.''
Rose was silent, as if she was reliving something as her eyes flickered open, Jack noticed just how much that icy exterior had dissolved and now, she was so vulnerable. Without even thinking he reached over to place his right hand in her left. He stroked his thumb over her palm and she was surprised just by how much he comforted her. How was his touch so gentle? How did it ease her physical aches so easily?
''The steel business is just money. I much prefer working outdoors.'' Jack changed the subject quickly and answered her earlier question. ''I never wish to marry because I plan for the Dawson line to end with me. Why would I put my heir through that horse shit?''
Rose was fascinated by how open about his life he was. She had started to become intrigued. It propelled her to push away her own misery to the back of her mind for now, even just for a time, it would help to ease the memories away. It was something else to engross herself into and forget the controversy of her own meaningless life so easily. It was like how one felt when reading a great novel, but this was real life. It required interactions with another human being and that was a rarity these days. Didn't her own mother always harp on about how Rose would need to leave the house more, gain and further her social acquaintances? Perhaps this was the one chance.
''You truly don't believe that you ever long for such a companionship, or parenthood?''
Jack shook his head. ''No, there is more to life that such things. As you have said, marrying for love is a rarity and I doubt that I could ever experience that.''
Rose realised that his hand was still in hers and truth be told, she didn't want to move in case he removed it, so she simply stared ahead out at the hills of Ireland. The view was spectacular. It was like something which would have been painted in a wonderful gallery. The feel of his hand within hers seemed to be her only grasp onto reality as the rest of her mind seemed to slip into a dreamlike state. Everything about her seemed to feel hazy, dizzy and gorgeous. The breeze sent her curls tumbling about and it was freeing, to not have a care in the world about her appearance for once.
''I wish to return to Santa Monica, too.''
He withdrew his hand, tucking it to meet his other behind him back,
''You do?''
''Well, I will buy the railroad out there and you can have your own private car with-''
''No! I would like to head out for the horizon, just like you can.''
''No, I'll take you. It's a strange place. You're caring of the women's right...Yes. Been a woman suppressed it is hard to not feel a kinship with them.''
Jack took a deep breath, he gazed back at the sky but Rose's eyes remained on him.
''Yes, it is.''
As both of them felt something, present, something particular; the power was almost too much to bear, as they both glanced away, quickly. Both too weak to acknowledge anything in that second.