Chapter fifteen:
At the divine service which was led by Captain Smith in the dining room, Jack stood beside Molly, as the group was led singing 'Almighty Father Strong to Save.' Miss. DeWitt Bukater was stood central in the crowds with her mother and Hockley beside her, as though she was in need of entrapment the entire time. Off to one side, Hockley's sour faced valet was against a wall, his sharp eyes across the crowds and finally, when they settled on his own, he seemed to stiffen and smirk, as though Jack was the one, he was intending to find. From behind his hymn sheet, Jack glanced to Miss. DeWitt Bukater, who's curls were loose, aside from a partial bit which was swept half up and secured with a butterfly pin. Her gown was of royal blues and beige with a beautiful wrap which she held at her waist closed with her hymn sheet within her dainty white gloved hands. Her face with half concealed with the paper but she must have felt the heat from his gaze radiating across the room, for soon their eyes caught and Jack found that he couldn't look away for love or money.
It was as though he had set eyes upon her for the first time, the natural rise and fall of his chest suddenly ceased to a halt as though it was a forgotten task. Stunning, curious emerald eyes locked with his own. His lips parted as he struggled to breathe through his stunned state. The empty, hollow hole in his stomach seemed to fill for the first time in so long that it burned him. He had never felt that before. It was settling and yet, so unsettling at the very same time. It was warm...
''I do believe that you have young Rose blushing.'' Molly whispered, keeping her eyes down and face forward.
She was right. A rosy hue had come across her cheeks. That much was evident from across the lines of people in between them. Suddenly, her eyes left his and there was that cold draught again.
In response to Molly, Jack simply kept his eyes on the hymn sheet but allowed a smirk to pull at his lips, before he garnered a chuckle from her.
''You know that little dance you had with her last night caused quite the stir.''
''Oh, it'll give the little wifey's something to gossip about whilst enjoying their delightful tea.''
''Is that your intention, to stir such a commotion or to play the alpha in a game of cat and mouse with Hockley?'' Molly raised a brow, and Jack exhaled, losing just about where they were on the hymn sheet and the line of words suddenly became senseless.
''Molly, I have no intentions to stir anything or to play a game.''
''Well, Mrs. DeWitt Bukater was in quite a tangle this morning over the way you danced with her daughter and now their little manservant over there is watched her like a hawk would its prey.''
Jack glanced to the valet, who's eyes were on Hockley, and it appeared that something was transpiring wordlessly between them with a series of sharp eyes and small nods.
''You know how these mothers get when it's time for their precious little daughters to marry them off to the highest bidder. As for the tall guy, he's probably on strict orders to keep her locked away.''
''Poor girl will never have any room to breathe. Why do they insist on keeping her on such a tight leash? She is a pistol, that I can say, but one day she will resent her mother for the way of this.''
The hymn drew to a close, and the passengers were seated as the service continued. It was endless. With hymn after hymn, Jack was unable to cease his watch of the family. How she was under such security that even he could feel the severity of the suffocation. Nestled between the two people who were in complete control of her destiny, Rose was seemingly oblivious to the world around her; as though she was so carefully wrapped in cotton that if she did fall from a great height then she would barely feet the impact. What an impact Jack wished to make. Perhaps by going right over there, taking her mouth in the middle of the God damned church service. Perhaps that would ruffle the feathers of society. Clutching his paper, he had realised that his fingers had started to tense and his body stiffened.
Good God, he was supposed to stay away. He couldn't save her.
She had to save herself. Rose DeWitt Bukater infuriated him because her freedom was within reach, all she needed was the courage to walk away from the damned circus. He wanted to give her more than courage, but that would never be an option. There was not an ounce of confidence within the damned woman and that was what the shame was and where the blame laid.
''You know I can always tell when a man has had his feathers ruffled by the way of his breathing. His posture. His tightened shoulders.'' Molly leaned in, whispering low. Jack softened immediately.
''You're quite the observer.''
''Quite, when it comes to you, call it a motherly instinct, if you will but I have a sense that Miss. DeWitt Bukater has affected you just a little more than what you have let on.''
''I think your instincts are well and truly off, Mrs. Brown.'' Jack responded, flatly.
''Hmm, Mrs. Brown, now, is it?'' Molly's lips twitched with amusement. ''If you are infatuated with her, let her go, allow her to make her own way but if you even so much as care for her, then you have to let the war with Hockley go.''
Jack watched the two of them. Hockley with his hymn sheet lowered, his eyes watching Rose every few seconds, almost to check that she was still there with him.
She was so beautifully angelic, singing the hymns and listening to the words of the pastor so intently that, at times, her lips moved in time with a familiar verse from the Bible. The most beautiful innocence surrounded her and her aura was almost glowing a bright white. Jack had seen her smile, heard her giggle, felt her melt into his body as he had kissed her in a way that even he knew had grown sordid. Yes, he was infatuated with her, but he also cared. Too much. There was no one way or another; it was both a longing and a physical response.
''There is no damned war.'' Jack hissed, in response, and the captain, along with the entire first row glanced up at him with disapproving stares but he made no attempt to apologise. Another hymn commenced; For Those in Peril On The Sea.
They stood once more to begin the verse and Molly leaned in again to respond. ''Language whilst in church, Mr. Dawson.'' She sang the first verse, and then once the passengers were preoccupied with the lyrics, she continued. ''I think your mother passed well before she had such a conversation with you, God rest her soul. When a man is in love with a woman, he feels it in his heart, his stomach, his mind and other places-''
'Molly, we're in a church, this isn't the correct time or place to conduct such a conversation.'' Jack hissed, beneath his breath.
''Oh, but it is.'' Molly softened her features. ''The good Lord calls for the joining of a man and a woman who are in love to join as one not just in holy matrimony but in minds and body, too.''
Jack gaped at her incredulously, completely oblivious to the fact that they were in a place of God. ''Have you been into the spirits before midday?'' He pulled back, taking a breath. ''Are you implying that I marry Miss. DeWitt Bukater?''
''Well, that depends, on whether or not you love her.'' And, simple as that, Molly went back to sing the final verse so wonderfully blasé that Jack could have turned the air red with expletives.
'O Trinity of love and power, Our brethren shield in danger's rock and tempest, fire, and foe Protect them wheresoe'er they go. That evermore shall rise to Thee, Glad praise from air and land and sea.'
Captain Smith relieved them from the church service and the passengers slowly filtered out to take tea, or to congregate in the reception room to chatter for several minutes. Jack stood, straight backed by the bottom of the Grand Staircase and waited for Molly to cease conducting her goodbyes. From afar, he gazed after the woman, who was perhaps raging mad, in some ways. Her suggestions in church were quite provoking in both thought and actual reality. Marry Rose DeWitt Bukater.
''You're as mad as they come.'' Jack had told her, with her hand at his left arm as he led her towards the Palm Court Café for lunch.
Molly laughed, piercing the air as they had left the crowds of gatherers and silently passed Hockley and his crowd, without so much as a second glance.
''You know my husband said the same thing just days before we married.''
''It wasn't intended to be complimentary from me.''
''Well, we can't all be so straight and narrow, can we? Shall we take lunch?''
''If you like.''
''You are in a dampened spirit since the church service, if you are so unhappy about it, you didn't need to attend.'' Molly used her finger to prod at Jack's forearm. ''What is the matter?''
Drawing them to the fringes of the crowd, Jack lowered his voice. ''I simply don't appreciate just how you place the situation with Hockley onto the head of a pin. There is nothing with me and his fiancée, we are acquaintances who have a mere handful of interests such as travel, art and-''
''And a common dislike for her fiancé?'' Molly's Southern twang cut him right up. Her eyes softened, as she drew Jack to a stop. ''All I am saying is don't make a fool of the girl but don't make a fool out of yourself, too."
At that, they were approached by the Astor's. In the midst of the chatter, Jack had vacated the area of social madness and allowed his own impaired vision to correct itself. It was only when out on decks that he found a hand upon his shoulder. Jack withdrew to find Mr. Astor, where an afternoon breeze diffused the scents of the ocean. The raucous honks of seagulls circling above punctuated the air and Jack, who disliked the taste of cigars, waved his hand in dismissal as Mr. Astor offered him one.
Under his interested regard, Jack and Mr. Astor discussed the progress of the steel renovations. Then, seeing no reason to tiptoe around the issue, Jack told him of his decision to quit society as soon as the work was completed as they went to seat upon a steamer chair. It was a debatable subject, one which would stir the interest of many of the peers but at that precise moment, who cared?
"You're leaving society?" Mr. Astor asked, looking perturbed. "For how long?"
"For good, actually, or at least the foreseeable future."
As Mr. Astor absorbed the information, his pale blue eyes narrowed. "What will you do for money?"
Relaxed in the face of his displeasure, Jack shrugged. "I already have more money than anyone could spend in a lifetime."
Mr. Astor glanced heavenward. "Anyone who says such a thing obviously doesn't know the right places to shop." He sighed shortly. "So. If I'm to understand correctly, you intend to eschew civilisation altogether and live as a savage?"
"No, I intend to live freely. There's a difference."
"Dawson, you're a wealthy young bachelor with all the advantages of modern life. If you've got ennui, do what every other man of means does."
Jack's brows lifted. "And that would be ...''
"Gamble! Drink! Buy a horse! Buy a car! Buy a plantation! Take a mistress! For God's sake, have a little imagination. Can you think of no better option than to throw it all away and live like a primitive? I think you're irreplaceable in this world."
"No one's irreplaceable."
"You are. No other man in Boston can do what you do. You're a walking account book, you've got eyes in the back of your head, you've got the tact of a diplomat, the mind of a banker, the fists of a boxer, and you can put down a fight in a matter of seconds. You'd need to hire at least a half dozen men for your job, Eric told me so himself whilst you were in your studies."
"I don't have the mind of a banker," Jack said indignantly.
"After all your investment coups, you can't deny-"
"That wasn't on purpose!" A scowl spread across Jack's ace. "It was my curse."
Looking satisfied to have unsettled Jack's composure, Mr. Astor drew on his cigar. He exhaled a smooth, elegant stream of smoke and glanced at the ocean. "Say something," he shook his head.
Jack was unable to.
"It's not for us to approve."
"Thank you," Jack muttered.
"However," Mr. Astor continued, "I urge you, Dawson, to reflect adequately on the fact that while half of you is a freedom-loving idiot, the other half is your father, and your uncle-a race renowned for its fierce love of land. Of business. Of keeping a level head. Which leads me to doubt that you will be as happy in your wandering as you seem to expect. Your uncle was a master of his own universe and always he spoke of how he wished his brother to be the same but how he never could be. How he found love in the fat of the land."
The point rattled Jack. He had always tried to ignore the Dawson half of his nature, lugging it around like some oversized piece of baggage he would have liked to set aside but for which he could never find a convenient place. Not his surname or his background, but simply the differences and the similarities between two brothers. Two brothers who were no different and yet so very much the same. When it came to matters of the heart, both men fell deeply in love once and that was forever. Family mattered to them but Jack had no family left now, at least no close kin. A cousin from his uncle Eric's wife existed in Boston someplace and was in regular contact but it wasn't flesh and blood.
"If your point is that I'm damned whatever I do," Jack said tersely, "I'd rather err on the side of being free."
"All men of intelligence must eventually give up their freedom," Mr. Astor replied. "The problem with bachelorhood is that it's far too easy, which makes it tedious. The only real challenge left is marriage."
Marriage. Respectability. Jack regarded his companion with a sceptical smile, between Astor and Molly both thinking they resembled a pair of birds try to convince themselves of how comfortable their cage was. No woman was worth having his wings clipped.
"I'm leaving for Boston as soon as we dock in New York. I believe this will be my last trip with society. I intend to tie up lose ends and speak with my cousin of perhaps even splitting the deeds. I will not withdraw absolutely but I intend to take an extended leave to simply be by myself."
Mr. Astor's clever mind circumvented the problem, analysing it from various angles. "Dawson... you've led a more or less civilised existence for years, and yet suddenly it has become intolerable. Why?"
Jack remained silent. The truth was not something he was readily able to admit to himself, let alone say aloud.
"There has to be some reason you want to leave," Mr. Astor persisted.
"No."
"Perhaps I'm off the mark," he continued, "but I suspect it may have something to do with Miss. DeWitt Bukater ."
Jack sent him a damning glare and stood so quickly the steamer chair nearly toppled backward. "She has nothing to do with it."
To remain silent, or to deny the attraction, would have been to admit the full extent of his weakness. Jack lowered back into his chair and strove for an offhand tone. ''It has nothing to do with her.''
"Then, man to man, tell me of your relationship with her." Mr. Astor coaxed. "I hear she's a feisty one with Hockley ensuring she well and truly is never without his presence."
Jack narrowed his eyes to Mr. Astor. "Where would your own wife be?"
"Molly took her to lunch. The nurse insisted that she ate little and very often due to her condition."
Condition. It mustn't be that much of a secret that his teenage wife was carrying his child and yet, Mr. Astor looked nothing short of pleased. "You know how women like to fettle their fingers over the colour of a shawl or a crib."
Jack exhaled, recalling Mr. Astor's wish to discuss himself and Miss. Rose DeWitt Bukater. How could he start?
"She has ... quirks."
"Quirks." Mr. Astor's eyes glinted with enjoyment. "How charming. Go on."
"She's read obscure philosophy. She's afraid of bees. Her foot taps when she's nervous." And other, more personal things he couldn't reveal . . . like the beautiful paleness of her throat and chest, the weight of her hair in his hands, the way strength and vulnerability were pleated inside her like two pieces of fabric folded together. Not to mention a body that had been designed for mortal sin.
Jack didn't want to think about Rose. Every time he did, he was swamped with a feeling he'd never known before, something as acute as pain, as pervasive as hunger. The feeling seemed to have no purpose other than to rob him of sleep at night. There wasn't one millimetre of Rose DeWitt Bukater that didn't attract him profoundly, and that was a problem so far outside his experience, he didn't begin to know how to address it. If only he could take her, ease this endless ache . . . but having lain with her once, he might want her even more afterward. In mathematics, one could take a finite figure and divide its content infinitely, with the result that even though the content was unchanged, the magnitude of its bounds went on forever. Potential infinity. It was the first time Jack had ever comprehended the concept in the form of a woman. Jack said sourly, "If you're assuming that my plans to live differently are nothing more than a reaction to Miss. DeWitt Bukater, I have been considering this for a long time. I'm not an idiot. Nor am I inexperienced with women."
"To say the least," Mr. Astor commented dryly. "But in your pursuit of women-or perhaps I should say their pursuit of you-you seem to have regarded them all as interchangeable. Until now. If you are taken with this creature, don't you think it bears investigating?"
"God, no. There's only one thing it could lead to."
"Marriage," he said rather than asked.
"Yes. And that's impossible."
"Why?"
The fact that they were discussing Rose DeWitt Bukater and the subject of marriage was enough to make Jack blanch in discomfort. "She is already engaged to be married."
"But not married-"
"I'm not the marrying kind—"
Mr. Astor snorted. "No man is. Marriage is a female invention."
"-but even if inclined," Jack were continued, "I'm a nobody. I can never have children to bear them with this life of society. I would always carry that burden. I wouldn't do that to her. She would want children, women always do."
''So, what if she did? Give her a child. Let her raise it and you go about your life as you do.''
Jack exhaled his frustrations and watched Mr. Astor through narrowed eyes. Why did even Mr. Astor make it all sound so ridiculously simple?
''No,'' Jack stood from the chair before he was about to make his egress. ''That is not an option."