The quiet and tranquil music sat well in the dining room for the 1st class passengers, who sat round comfortably during the afternoon, waiting for their starters. The conversations were light and formal; mostly there had been introductions, each knowing each other by their reputations and fame.
Monsieur Reyer, a famous French musician and composer had spotted Firmin and Andre, and they were delighted to see each other, as they had been associated before; meeting every so often in the productions that were at their Opera that Reyer was involved in.
"So what calls you to America, Monsieur Reyer? The wealth? The Fame?"
"The women?" Firmin chuckled; Andre gave him a firm look and a nudge in the ribs.
"Neither actually, gentleman." Monsieur Reyer smiled. "I'm going to visit some family over there who immigrated long before me. I'm taking my sister and her daughter, please; let me introduce them to you."
He wandered over to four ladies who were sitting by the windows looking out onto deck. The two older ladies were talking very formally and solemnly together, while the two younger were sat facing the opposite direction from each other, with not very pleasant expressions.
"My sister, Madame Kingston, and my niece, Elizabeth."
The eldest of the two ladies talking, looked up with a rather annoyed expression on her face, yet stood for the politeness of acknowledgement. Firmin and Andre kissed her wrinkling hand and turned to her daughter who had already stood up and held out a gracious hand.
The two men goggled at the beauty in front of them, kissing her perfumed silk of skin and complimenting her beauty profusely. She lifted her head back and gave them the tiniest of smiles, which was more of a proud smirk than a smile. Her mother watched her with great pride.
"A star in the making, monsieur's." Mrs. Kingston yapped happily about her daughter. The two women whom they had been sat with glanced at each other and rolled their eyes slightly. "A fine singer, Eliza is. No doubt you will be seeing her in plenty of your Opera's in due course. She will be the finest thing to ever set foot on the American stage!"
"No doubt, Madame. No doubt she has talent!" Monsieur Reyer joined in the appraisal of his niece. "A voice of the heavens! Her teacher is one of, if not the finest composer and voice coach in Europe and across seas. No question that you have heard of him, Monsieur Garnier?"
"Oh!" Both men said at once. Andre carried on. "Yes, actually, we were planning to meet up with him ourselves. He's planning to stage one of his most new and finest works at our new Opera house in America!"
"That's if I approve of the venue, good sir."
Everyone turned in the direction the voice had come from, which was behind them.
A man stood as straight and as proper as any gentleman did aboard the Titanic who had a 1st class ticket. His voice was pronounced in a bored and matter of fact tone, yet was deep and velvety. He was dressed in the finest of evening wear, and his expression was that of mild humour and complete lack of intrigue. That is…the expression that the party could see.
Strangely, to everyone's utter bafflement and curiosity, he wore a mask. An ivory coloured mask that covered half of his face, and left one side for all to gaze at, for it was a face that broke hearts. It was anyone's guess as to why he famously hid the other half. Mostly people put it down to his eccentricity as an artist; others thought it was to heighten the mystery that surrounded the man, as little was known about him apart from his brilliant Opera's that he belted out every season, bringing people from around the world to witness every triumph after the next. He was a passionate man, maybe eccentric and unpredictable, but passionate. And that was why everyone wanted a piece of him.
"Monsieur Garnier! A pleasure to be sure." Monsieur Andre shook his hand rather strongly, while Firmin took his hand also, almost sounding like a school boy when he talked to a man so prestigious.
"I'm sure you will approve of the venue, I mean the Opera House! I will have anything adapted to your requirements, anything at all monsieur…"
"I'm sure you will." Monsieur Garnier smiled slightly, almost sarcastically, pulling his hand away from the gentleman's grip. He moved over to Monsieur Reyer, shaking his hand politely, and then greeting Madame Kingston.
Finally, he greeted Elizabeth, who had now dropped her proud and scornful expressions, and was staring at Monsieur Garnier with a flattering and stunning smile. She held out her hand to him, and he kissed it softly.
"Having a nice evening, Monsieur?" Elizabeth purred, letting her sparkling blue eyes bore into his burning amber ones. He let his eyes study her face for a while before answering. Elizabeth felt her heart flutter under the man's stare.
"Pleasant enough thank you. And yourself, Elizabeth?"
"Could be better, Monsieur. I would prefer if we were having a lesson tonight, it would make my evening."
Elizabeth smiled sweetly at him.
Erik Garnier was a proud and private man, and brutal when it came to being in control of his Operas. He would never let anyone come in the way of his work, yet when he saw no cause of harm, he had little problem with letting a girl as pretty as this flatter him.
Now Erik knew that every girl that had threw themselves at him were only after the things he did not want to offer. His money. His reputation. His fame.
Almost of the young, rich girls, who had the tiniest amount of talent would beg for Monsieur Garnier to take them on as his students, to gain fame in the music business, a dream which all these girls shared. They wanted fame, and Erik was the one way they could get to it quickly.
But Erik would only take on the best singers he could find, and that was beginning to become a task in its own right. Even Elizabeth was not rising up to the standards and challenges that he set for his students, and she was one of the best he had.
His operas demanded perfection, and at this moment in time, it was not what he was getting. He did not want another mediocre opera, despite how much the papers praised him. He needed someone who would sing as well as his music sounded.
Perhaps there was no harm in letting Elizabeth have lessons tonight.
"I don't see why not. There's my room number, come around about half eleven."
She took the card from him and smiled even wider, showing a beautiful set of pearly white teeth. God, she made him sick. Her sickly sweet smile which went with her sickly sweet voice. He smiled falsely as he bowed away.
"Gentlemen, I will take my leave of you. I bid you a good night."
"Oh!" Elizabeth looked rather abashed. "Are you not going to join us for diner?"
"I'm afraid I have a previous engagement, but I will see you tonight, my dear."
He ignored Elizabeth's pout of annoyance, and after his farewell, he walked away in relief. He had come down to the dining room after building himself up to. He hadn't particularly wanted to, but knew that e would have to socialise at some point, as that what came with being on board a ship. Even the biggest of ships can be the tiniest of prisons for a man with Erik's love of privacy.
On seeing the people that he had to associate with, and their false pleasantries and their stuck up, selfish and arrogant ways, he almost felt sick. He had to literally force himself to keep his voice to a manner of politeness to the people who he wished nothing more than to be away from.
Andre and Firmin were the least of his favourite people. He hated people who sucked up to him, just for his talent. The only reason why he even stayed in their good books was to keep a good Opera house with a good reputation for his work. He would only accept the best for his work. Andre and Firmin were his best bet for his work to get shown in the best places. It pained him to accept that. Yet this voyage was hopefully going to make him so big in America, he could one day manage his own Opera house. But that was in the future…
Erik passed through his room, grabbing his coat and cigars before heading out.
-- ---
Down below the decks, the 3rd class passengers were being handed out their meals, which was a bland dose of vegetable soup and roast pork. Although it was a small portion, Christine and her father wolfed it down, like so many of the others, as it was one of the most appetising meals they had ever had.
Christine and her father had taken friendship with the newly wed couple that were sharing the cabin with them. The man was a young, healthy boy of Irish origin, and his wife was a pretty, blonde haired girl with a northern English accent. Their names were Jerry and Megan. Megan was Christine's age, and Christine was more than interested in Meg, who seemed to lead a totally different life to her.
"Oh married life isn't all bad!" Meg giggled, after telling Christine the same inevitable existence of their struggle to survive on their poor income, and Meg recently find out that she was with child. "I love the rouge, and he does take care of me. Only marry Christine, if you love. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Or else you'll end up in a load of trouble."
"I doubt Ill be getting married anytime soon." Christine smiled, rubbing her nose with the back of her sleeve scruffily, dirtying it more. "My dad won't let me get away!"
"Go any time you please. I've been trying to get rid of you for years!" He chuckled as she shoved him roughly, making his tea slop down his jumper. He scuffed up her curls fondly before she pushed him away, sticking a tongue out at him.
"See?" Meg laughed before standing and offering an arm to Christine. "Care to join me on a walk?"
The two girls left the men in the rowdy under deck party to take a stroll on deck. It was night time now, and the air was beginning to chill more as they moved their way out to sea.
"So America…what kind of place do you reckon it'll be?" Meg stared off into the constant darkness over the rails. Christine pulled her large cord coat tighter around her, tucking her hair into a cap and over her ears.
"I don't know." She sighed, gazing out also. "A place of dreams, I hope. A place were everyone's troubles will vanish, and jobs are like as common as muck."
Meg sighed too, and nodded in agreement. "Don't you wish sometimes that you could live like the other half? See what life is like where money isn't a problem?"
Christine thought a moment, and then shook her head slowly. "I don't think so." Meg looked at her in surprise. Christine's face, despite its young and un-weathered look, showed age beyond her years through wisdom in her eyes.
"Imagine a life with no pain. You would never learn to appreciate happiness and love if there was not a balance in the world. And to tell you the truth, I would rather be on the end were there was love and no money. Cause if I had to spend one day being miserable with a load of money and nothing to do, I would probably cease wanting to live."
Meg smiled at her new found friend, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You are a lot wiser than me, my friend. But I would have to take the money for a thicker coat. I'm freezing!"
Christine laughed, and pulled off her scarf, and gave it to Meg. "Here, it's yours. Not very nice, but it keeps out the cold."
Meg smiled at her, and wrapped it around her neck. "If you don't mind Christine, I should like to turn in. My head is spinning a little." She pawed her stomach fondly.
"Do you want me to come with you?"
"No, no, stay out here for a while if you like. I just need to lie down for a bit."
Christine bid farewell to Meg, and watched her leave down the white rail stairs. She turned and faced back out to sea, to watch the dark pass like a dream in front of her wide awake eyes, taking deep breathes of the salty air and feeling the rough wind against her face, and loving every minute of it.
Christine began to imagine her dads and her new life in America, with a little apartment, full of their instruments and two lovely beds with soft pillows. Her dad would bid her farewell as he went off to work in a national orchestra, and she would walk around New York, humming to herself and drinking in the marvellous wonders around her.
If she was daring enough, she could even try and get a singing job, like in a tavern or even a social club, where the wealthy and rich would come from all around to hear her voice…
Come to think of it, she hadn't sung in a long time.
Christine glanced around before even daring to hum, and seeing no one in sight, began to recite a song her father taught her in a music lesson. It was a lovely song that he had wrote, full of notes perfectly tailored to her voice. She felt tingles down her fingers and toes as her confidence grew along with the volume of her voice. Christine began to swing on the boughs as she sang, spinning and twirling as if she were on a real stage.
She span around and around, laughing almost through her song, not noticing that her spinning was sending her off course.
Christine jumped and yelped as she bumped into something soft and large.
"Beg your pardon, mister." She said, bowing her head in shame, and feeling the red hot embarrassment seep into her cheeks. She didn't even look up at him to see who she had bumped into before turning to bolt, when the man spoke.
"Pardon granted. Who are you?"
Christine still didn't look up, but gazed over her shoulder.
"Christine D…Davenport." Christine had learnt over the years not to give out your real name to anyone who asks. No matter how important they seemed to speak.
"You learnt to sing like that?"
"Yea...Um…Well I taught myself. Sorry sir, I don't mean to be rude, but I really must be going…"
"Wait a moment."
The tall man stepped out onto the deck, away from the side of the bough he had been standing. He took down his high collar on his coat to reveal his face, and removed his top hat. Christine now was intrigued rather than embarrassed, by the curious man that stood in front of her. No doubt he was a first class passenger; he had that sort of regal importance about him that Christine had grown to dislike.
Yet, she had not noticed that. Rather, she found herself captured by his dancing eyes, and his curious way of hiding half his face behind an ivory mask.