Chapter thirty-two:

"Is marrying the girl really necessary, Jackie?" Charlie muttered from where he sat slumped in a leather chair near the hearth in Jack's library. A glass of brandy dangled negligently from his long fingers, and the firelight played sinister games with his features. ''I mean you seem awfully eager to especially when you say she isn't expecting.''

Jack placed the stopper back in the bottle with a clink after pouring a glass of his own, then walked back to the fireplace to stand with an elbow propped on the mantel. "I thought we had talked about this. Time doesn't matter; we wish to marry as quickly and possibly discreetly as we can."

Charlie waved his free hand in the air as though to sweep aside Jack's statement. "I know what you said. It's just ... she is a pistol. From what I hear even Hockley couldn't handle her. Are you sure this is what she wants?" Jack frowned. He did not like Charlie echoing his own doubts; but when they were together, all of them were erased because it was just the two of them. It wasn't that he wasn't sure that he was what she truly wanted, it was perhaps, further down the line when she could potentially regret something, even remotely about their nuptials. But for now, he saw the determination spring to life within her eyes each time they had spoken of the vows and it had only grown stronger as time went on, and not weaker, as when the mention of her wedding to Hockley had filled her with such dread.

He refused to respond directly to the question. "She will be well cared for. As my wife, she will be all right. We are alike, Charlies, we are almost like two halves which fit. She doesn't fit into this world. Neither do I.''

A look of scepticism came over his friend's face. "All right, well, I will bless you with whatever you wish to do. God knows how you deserve happiness, whether or not you find that here.''

''Well, thank you.'' It meant a lot. Truly it did.

Charlie sighed and took a drink. "If only Hockley had called you out over the Titanic incident. You could have shot him, and the scales would have been balanced."

Shaking his head, Jack moved to sit in the chair opposite Charlie, sinking down into its well-worn comfort and draining the last of his brandy in a quick motion. He felt its mild sting as it slid down his throat and settled warmly in his stomach. He had never been much for drink, but right now, he was willing to try many uncharacteristic things to dampen the rage that had burned inside for the better part of a year toward Hockley. It had dampened after the sinking, despite everything, but he believed it to be because he and Rose had been thrust into their own world where she had tenderly taken care of him like a child and he had allowed it. Now though, he was feeling better and the sting remained. Oh, how he longed for that world which was just himself and Rose again. It was dangling within reach and neither could wait to grasp it.

''No. However much I felt like it at the times, I never could. When I saw his manservant standing over Rose on that deck, I had my knife ready to kill him. I don't know what crossed my mind. How I wasn't put inside cell I will never know.''

''Because perhaps they know who was in the wrong.''

"No, they never did. Hockley was too much of a coward to stay and face it and Lovejoy was carted away by the master at arms. I was shipped onto a lifeboat to deal with the extent of my injuries."

"Perhaps your heroism saved you," Charlie laughed, raising a brow.

"It wasn't anything another man wouldn't have done."

"I hardly would have done the same. Perhaps your heart is a lot bigger than mine. But you have seen a lot of people die."

Inside of a blink, his mind flashed back nearly five years. He stood at the graves of his mother and father on a sodden, strangely chilled August morning, wondering how it could have happened, how they could have both died within days of one another. He recalled glancing over to where his grandparents were buried and thinking he was cursed to survive while all those around him died. The stark truth of it was an endless black pit. No air, no light, no escape.

He squeezed his eyes shut against the memories. Eric had been there; nudging. What could possibly be worth living for without so much as a cousin left for kin? Jack had asked. It was then, perhaps in desperation, that Eric had offered him a torch for his darkness. That had been possibly the biggest blessing and the largest curse. He had been fifteen without so much as a clue how to trust anything but the voice within his own mind. As naïve as he had been, there still had been truth in it. The voice had said that he would have made it. That he wouldn't be alone for the rest of his life. That through his grief, once he had found himself; trusted him, then he would have found the strength to be the man who would become the one he was today. Instead, he had dismissed himself in parts, ignored the unhappiness, allowed himself to grow burdened in ways which had also imprisoned Rose in the same, closeted world. That was how they were so alike.

Brought back to the present when his friend rose to stare down at the fire, Jack picked up the thread of their conversation. "Hockley loathes scandal. The odds of him escalating matters by calling me out were always rather slim." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Besides, the scales can never be truly balanced. Taking his fiancée from him is the best I can do, under the circumstances."

"Yes, but haven't you already done that? You make this sound as though you did it on purpose.'' Charlie raised a brow, seemingly to enjoy this part of the discussion. Even though he had only seen Hockley vaguely at some event, there was an instant dislike due to the enemy of their companies.

''No, that was never the way of it.'' Perhaps in the beginning he had toyed with her, just to see how she could react but then, it was clear that he would be incapable of leaving her alone. She would react to his games without a clue how to play. Her innocence had sparked the interest and it had quickly dawned just how much he would grow to love her.

''The scandal means she will have to be shipped off to some distant estate or sent abroad, if you do marry her and stayed here then you would never hear the end of it. Leaving is the best option or better yet, let it be enough, Jack."

The fury that rose inside Jack in that moment was as unexpected as it was uncontrollable. Like a black, sulphurous cloud, it filled him and spilled out in a volcanic explosion. In one swift move, he stood and threw his glass against the far wall, the splintering crash barely registering before he roared, "It is not enough! I will not marry her and send her away. What kind of a husband would that make me? Just bending over to allow society to rule me once more. I shall have none of it."

Charlie jerked when he heard the glass break apart, then slowly turned to face Jack, a look of wariness and alarm on his face.

"Enough will be when I have taken her away from this damned city, from this world. Enough will be when we are married; together. Living. I have no place for this house, this society in my life.''

"You are still grieving. Think about this." Charlie's voice grew rough with concern. He reached out to place a hand on Jack's shoulder, but Jack shrugged him off and stalked across the room to stand with his back turned, his hands on his hips, breathing harshly. "You're grieving everything and you have just survived the sinking of a damned ship."

Jack despised what was inside him, a monster of hatred and pain and fury. But he could do nothing other than try to appease it. It was only since his arrival in town that it seemed to have accelerated; aside from when he was with her. "It's what I have to do, Charlie," he rasped. ''For the both of us. I may grieve forever for my parents but in my heart they would never wish for me to turn into this."

After a moment, he felt Charlie's hand at his back, his friend's solid presence helping him regain his composure. "I know. If there was another way..."

''There wouldn't be any other way because we have both found out that I am not the man for this job. And, I wouldn't," Jack repeated. "It is better than leaving her to society's tender mercies." He exhaled slowly. ''And that was the whole point of this to begin with, I proposed the marriage to keep Hockley at bay, keep the gossips away and to keep the pressures of me having to find a wife of my own someday; one without a doubt I would have struggled to care for.''

Charlie nodded. ''And in return, you fell in love with her?''

''Yes, I did. Against all odds.''

"What do you plan to with her once you're married?" It was a good question.

"Nothing." Jack smiled. "Just live."

A single, shaggy eyebrow lifted. "And you think that will work?"

''What else would you expect?''

''I have no idea.'' Charlie shrugged, seemingly clueless.

Jack mimicked the gesture and added a small smile. "She loves me." The look that emerged on Charlie's face sent an unexpected burst of laughter through him. "That hard to believe, eh?"

"No. But you're mad if you think you can trick a girl into forgetfulness. Might work for a night, but not forever."

Jack crossed the room and sank into the chair Charlie had vacated. "Not forever. Until we leave Boston." He shrugged. What else was there to do until they left Boston?

"Eminently achievable."

Charlie grunted and propped his hands on his hips. "You don't think you're overestimating your charms just a small bit?"

Chuckling, he replied, "It's clear you do. But, then, your judgment is flawed. You are not a woman."

His friend snorted and shook his head. "Thank God for that. I'd be an ugly one, no doubt."

Together, they shared a chuckle and this strange, somewhat oddly acquired bond seemed to fill a small void within Jack. He wasn't Eric. No one could quite be that showman and even now there was a shadow about, as though he still lingered in a corner, tutting in such disappointment but also smiling at his woes.

Hours later, after Charlie had left and quiet had settled over the house that once belonged to his uncle, Jack stood at the rear window of the library, contemplating the garden his auntie had loved. Modelled after the gardens at their New York country estate, Thornside, but on a smaller scale, the shapes were less orderly, more curved and natural than current fashion would dictate. Still, they were lovely with winding paths, lush plantings, and a small fountain with a stone bench at the centre. It was heavenly to witness but it was only a small part of just how wonderful nature truly was. Witnessing the wonders of the world called out to him now more than before. It was the sea which called out to him the most; the way in which water lapped against the soft sands and the collection of shells, rocks and caves which were begging to be explored. The caves were always the appeal; his father in his, he thought. In the mornings when the tide went out and the sand was still cold and wet, he would invade it and feel the soft sinking of the beach beneath his feet and the odd dripping of water as the tide had left the rocks above damp. The smell of seaweed would linger always and the sea birds would come in to scavenge for their lunch.

What would Rose think of the ocean now? God knows she would have never even witnessed a beach. Stepped on sand. Felt the coolness of the gravel between her bare toes and the sounds of relaxation as she would lay in the surf with a dress soaked through of salty water and her laughs of delight would wash over him.

His mind reeled. Three days. In only three days, he could marry her. Then Hockley's true punishment would begin; knowing that Jack was the one who had married the woman he was trying to win. The one who would have saved him from grace. It was never meant to be a punishment and now it felt as though it was. There was never meant to be any punishment involved. Never meant to be a retaliation. Now, there was; blindly.

While grim satisfaction seized Jack, knowing his goal was within sight, it did not blind him to the longer-term implications of his plan. For days now, Charlie had been trying to help him see past the moment of triumph and point out there was a marriage after the wedding, a woman who would be a permanent part of his life, the mother of his children. He knew it well. Could not stop thinking about it, in fact. Twinges of guilt mixed with no small measure of lust filled him each time he contemplated having Rose all to himself for the remainder of his days.

At the thought, his mind veered immediately to Rose as she had been on decks the night aboard, her face covered by nothing more than moonlight and his mouth. He recalled her taste, her smell, and the breathless moan she'd uttered. He gripped the window sill, let his forehead rest against the cold glass, and gritted his teeth against a wave of longing. His desire for her was entirely out of proportion. Despite his flowery words to her that night, she had engrossed him from the start.

Every single layer of danger had stripped away and left the man; the boy who came from a small town. Born to two lowly workers but with an heir of arrogance. The cross breed who walked amongst the mere mortals so openly and unabashedly when all he wanted was to be living in a garret. To want and wish for something to out of reach was painful, but more so when one had lived through it, tasted it and then it had been taken away. That was where the true strife lay. There were great obstacles Jack wondered if they could surmount. He had promised to leave everything which had provided danger in his life behind. He had cut all ties. Jack Dawson was now just a man. A faithful man who had fallen in love with a blue blood woman. A woman out of his reach. A woman who loved him in return and now he was here, contemplating the rights and wrongs of everything.

"Are you certain this is the path you choose to take?"

He turned at the tentative sound of his lover's voice. Rose stood a few feet away, a book weighting her arm and dangling at her side. The sight of her, so small but determined, eased the tightness in his chest, and he left the ugliness behind to find solace in her arms.

Startled, Rose glanced at her with wide eyes. She stared straight ahead, as aloof as ever, in much the same way Jack had adopted in the last few weeks. "Why?" was all he could manage to say.

Her lips pursed as she stared to him "I had hoped you would consider marrying for pure happiness. Is this truly what you believe gives you thorough joy?"

If not for the tiredness which clouded him, he would have scolded her for even thinking such a thing. "I would not have expected such a statement from you. I am happy.''

Rose sighed and shot her fiancé a sidelong glance. "And I would gladly suffer a thousand torments for the privilege of having married a man I was happy with from the start.''

Rose's heart ached for a second and the emptiness she glimpsed in his eyes.

''I am beyond happy.''

"We can change our minds," she said gruffly.

As the doubts began to churn her stomach, she turned her head to study her groom. Jack's mouth curved with blatant charm, a silent encouragement, and her heart stopped.

"Think of the scandal," she whispered, playfully. ''One already has so much turmoil caused.''

There were still so many unanswered questions. So much scandal.

All involved knew it would be a scandal. Spoken of, whispered on the lips of the elite for years to come. To escape the gossip would have been hard.

Today's print is tomorrow's garbage. Jack had told Rose as they had walked across the park the day after arriving home. Neither had retreated and instead, would continue courting their usual lives. That caused more scandal as they laughed, ignoring their peers as they publicly displayed their affections toward the other. Why should they hide it and in fact indulging in scandalous things such as pecking his lip with her own, or holding hands whilst taking tea were viewed as disgusting.

"Then it won't be so bad to have a few more days of it."

"How so?"

"You may marry me in three days time. You may walk down the aisle to meet me there and join with me forever, if your heart still desires that."

If she wasn't unsteady with nerves and giddiness then she would have fallen over but with one small, unladylike jump, she went into his arms with such force that it almost knocked him flying backwards as well. His shoulder hurt but it didn't matter. Nothing else mattered but her—that smile, the beauty of her radiance at witnessing just how she glowed beside him.

''Is that a yes?''

''Oh, shut up, you silly man!''

Then, she covered him with such kisses that nothing else mattered.