Chapter 3

He stepped out of her bed, his body still heated from the hours of lovemaking and the narrowness of the small attic room. He stared at her body for as long as possible. Her breasts peaked out from underneath the covers. Jack left some change on the bedside table, making her wake up from her dreams. She smiled at him, but he didn't smile back. He used her. He only wanted her body to fill his own void. His heart had seemed to stop when his mother spoke those words out loud. He said nothing, only nodded his head and left the house. Then, visiting the brothel and following Alice up to her room was his daily occupation. The sound of their bodies moving together, her moaning his name in his ears kept his mind from going crazy. However, at any moment, he still hated himself. Jack thought about his days in Europe. His days in France and his adventurous in the capital of love. He would spend his time roaming around the Seine, observing the diversity of people roaming around in the city. The, he would sit down and put it onto a blank sheet of paper. His sketchbook was filled within days, inspiration coming from every corner of every street. Children, elderly, rich and poor. He felt alive. Accompanied by his Italian pal whom he had only received one letter from when returned back home. Fabrizio was the first person who showed him what the real world looked like and Jack couldn't help but miss him dearly. At first he was a naive young boy, arrogant and clueless. Traveling had changed him in a way he could have never imagined. But it all seemed to have disappeared once again. It was the same routine he was living in with the same people he so desperately wanted to get rid off. He often wondered where he would have been if his brother was still alive. Would he have found a Mediterranean goddess and now live in a small town with a big family? Would he have kept his inner peace and happiness? His homecoming had turned him back into the version of himself he utterly despised.

Alice sat up straight, grabbed her money and counted if it was enough. Jack wanted to leave, but she pulled him back onto her naked body. She wiped a loose strand of his hair out of his face and kissed his lips. "I have this feeling I am not going to see you as much anymore, Jack."

He lifted himself back up and sat on the edge of the bed, staring aimlessly at the oak wooden floor. "I have my duties fulfil." He took a cigarette out of his pocket, lit it up and took a large drag before putting it between her lips.

"People have been talking that you are in fact in need of a wife. Therefore, I believe I am not going to see you at all anymore once you are married, but I must count myself lucky to have explored every part of you before it belongs to someone else."

"I will not belong to anyone, Alice." With that, he freed himself from her grip and hurried out onto the street. The sky had been saddened by dark grey clouds for the whole day and it almost looked like it was winter all over again. He wrapped his woollen coat close against him, not allowing a single gush of wind to touch his body. His head throbbed with pain almost unbearable. A loud bang roared from above and heaven opened its gates, rain plunged down onto the pavements. Jack started to run, slow at first, but his pace became faster and faster. It cleared his mind, luckily, and he quickly came to a halt in front of the gates of their home. As he strutted towards the front door, a footman opened for him, collected his soaked clothes and informed him with his mother's wish to join him in the drawing room. Alexandra Dawson had not heard her son walk in. Still keeping her eyes on the raindrops that were clashing against the window, her fingers traced the cover of a book she had not read a single word of. Jack took a seat in front of her and could see the red traces of tears still remaining in her eyes.

"Mother." He said softly and waited until she turned to look at him. She smiled at her son, but the melancholy on her face weight heavier than any tried appearance of happiness. "You wished to speak to me."

"Yes. Your new suit for tonight has finally arrived." She stood up, headed over to the other side of the room where a large box was laying on an antique table. Jack followed and watched how she carefully took off the lid. To him, it looked like any other suit he owned, yet it beheld an emotional loading. For the first time in maybe ever, Jack Dawson felt sorry for his mother. She was only a woman trying to keep up the good name of her family. It wasn't her fault things had fallen apart, yet it was her task to mend the open wounds.

"I am really trying my best, mother." The lie fell from his lips too easily. He wasn't doing anything to help his family. He was weak.

"You need to try harder, Jack." There were tears forming in her eyes again, "You haven't been attending any social occasion since we told you other than spending time with your friends. I wish the whole situation was different, but this is your responsibility now as oldest son."

"I promise you, mother. That after tonight I will return back to Boston. I will make sure to save our family."

"I really hope I can trust you with that, son."

….

Music was already to be heard when their car drove up to Philadelphia's Town Hall. It was his last evening in the city he preferred over his own. Being born and raised in Boston, it did nothing to spark any form of love for the city. He only saw it as somewhere he needed to work. This was his grandmother's birthplace and she had showed him every rivet of her hometown when he was little. He helped his mother out of the vehicle and escorted her inside. As the majestic doors opened in front of them, they were greeted by countless dancing couples. The music was loud, even too loud for his liking and he swiftly walked his mother to a more tranquil spot. Alexandra Dawson was like a hawk, inspecting everyone to the core.

"That is Daisy Bernards," she pointed in front of her and Jack followed her movement, "Seventeen years old, heiress to a Canadian steel tycoon. She is a very intelligent young woman, perhaps you should go and talk to her." The girl didn't look a day older than fifteen. Her hair was tightly brushed back and her spine looked straighter than one of a book. It made Jack question if she was even able to move properly. Then Alexandra pointed to another woman. She was standing next to an exact copy of her, but her face was softer and her expression more gentle. Her emerald green dress complimented the color of her red curls and the fair complexion of her skin. "That is Ruth DeWitt Bukater with her daughter Violet, I believe. Our mothers went to the same finishing school together. She lifted her hand up in the air and waved it until she caught their attention. Jack saw the mother smile politely, take her daughter by her hand and moved towards them.

"Mrs. Dawson, what a pleasure to see you after such a long time." She greeted.

"And you, Mrs. DeWitt Bukater." Her attention then turned towards Violet, "And who is this beautiful young woman?"

"This is my eldest daughter Violet."

"A pleasure to meet you, miss. May I introduce my son Jack Dawson." The youngsters shook hands and he could heel her touch tremble in his. She was a good looking girl, he couldn't deny it and feeling Alexandra's eagerness vibrating in the room, he gave himself an inner sermon. He had heard the name of the DeWitt Bukaters being mentioned by his parents perhaps a handful of times since he was born. They were well known, rich and one of the most accomplished families in the whole of the United States. Every time he was back in Philadelphia their name was mentioned in a newspaper, but it was only tonight he had seen them in real life. Violet was blushing as she felt their fingers were still intertwined. He clenched them gently once he heard another waltz starting to play and asked her to accompany him to the dance floor. Her heart was pounding so high up in her chest that it almost made her feel sick. Jack placed his hand on her waist and pulled her body slightly closer to his to secure his grip.

"You're a good dancer, miss DeWitt Bukater." He complimented her as they moved freely through the large hall. His words made her feel like she was on top of the world. Turning her head slightly she noticed how many eyes were fixated on both her and her dance partner. This man was seen as the seasonal prize every unmarried miss wanted to win. Even her own mother had informed her with as much profound detail as she could find. However, attention came from his side. It was him who asked her to dance without having had any prior form of proper conversation. She laughed at him and was certain she could see the corner of his lips move up as well. In the far corner of the room their mothers were still enjoying each other's company and she could see her father had joined as well. Was this it?, she thought. Was this the feeling of being desired. The way his hand laid gently on her body felt so natural, as if God a carved a mold for only his touch. The music stopped and he released his grasp.

"I am afraid the dancing has made me quite thirsty." Violet giggled.

"Let us get a form of refreshment then. Perhaps a glass of lemonade is better for recovering than a glass of wine." She followed him towards the lemonade stand that was placed on the opposite side of the room. Fortunately, it was quiet at this part and they were finally able to understand one another. He handed her her drink and the coolness of it gradually transferred through her heated body.

"How long have you been in Philadelphia for, Mr. Dawson?" She asked, trying to keeping the sound of her krippling curiosity at bay.

"A little over a month. Whenever we come here we stay at my old grandmother's house. She grew up here." Violet soon realized that she already knew more about this man than she would have liked to admit. Ruth had filled her brain with almost his whole life story. The death of his older brother, which had forced him to return from his travels across the sea and the fact that he was now the heir to his father's oil company.

"And you like it here?"

He nodded his head. "I do, but I am returning home tomorrow for business."

Violet swallowed the lump in her throat to keep her disappointment hidden from him. Of course, she thought, just as she believed to have found a potential match he was about to walk out of her life. At times, she imagined her parents introducing her to a middle aged widow as their last resort to provide her with a secure future. It pained her, the way he showed interest yet the fact she couldn't quite reach him. However, his charms would even impress the devil and she let him lead her back for another dance together.

The moment they arrived inside, Rose mingled herself into the crowd in a way she would turn invisible for everyone around her. She managed to observe every individual for a good hour or two without having shared a word with anyone. Apart from the few nods of acknowledgement to people she vaguely remembered she was rather content with staring at the boys and girls her age. The way everyone communicated with one another was practically hilarious to see. Rose wanted to take a seat, fish her notebook out of her purse and write down all the ridiculous scenes that were happening right in front of her eyes. "There you are, Rose." Her father's voice echoed above the tunes of the violins, "We have been looking for you for god knows how long."

"Well I am here now, am I not father?" She put her champagne to the side and fixed a loose strand of hair that had fallen down. Within a few seconds, it hurled back in front of her face.

He reached for her arm and she took it hesitantly. "Your sister is on her second dance with this gentleman. Your mother is already engaged in a conversation with his parents and I want us to make a good first impression as a whole family."

"Have you send a car to fetch for Edward then? For we are not whole without him." She laughed at her own words, but Mr. DeWitt Bukater pressed his lips together firmly.

"Can you for once act like a lady, Rose? Violet is already twenty one. You are almost turning eighteen, therefore we need to make sure her future is secured before all attention is on you. Now straighten your back and be on your best behavior." In the distance her mother was speaking in a manner Rose had not seen very often. She looked, in fact, happy. She took a deep breath and waited for her father to introduce her to the older couple. Rose believed them to almost look identical. Dark blonde hair and piercing blue eyes and both being rather tall. They could easily pull off as brother and sister. The woman then looked at her and smiled kindly.

"Well, Mr. and Mrs. DeWitt Bukater, good genes certainly run in your family." she laughed. Rose scratched the back of her neck before she was properly being anounced.

"May I introduce our youngest daughter; miss Rose DeWitt Bukater. Rose, this is Mr. and Mrs. Dawson having joined us all the way from Boston."

Her smile dropped within a second and it suddenly clicked. "Shake hands, Rose." her mother gritted between her teeth.

"Yes. Yes. I am sorry," she held out her hand, "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance Mr. and Mrs. Dawson."

"And how old are you, miss DeWitt Bukater?" Mr. Dawson asked curiously.

"Seventeen, sir."

"Rose will have her coming out in a month and a half just before the new season," Ruth spoke for her, "Oh look there they are." Rose followed her mother's glance and looked straight at the view she didn't wish to see for a million years. Clenched to his arm like he some sort of object that could fly off the minute she let go was Violet with the sparkle of a diamond in her eyes. Again, he didn't look quite different from the other two occasions she last saw him. The arrogance of his persona was carved in every bit of his complexion. She straightened her back even more and tilted her head up high, hiding every bit of disgust she felt in her body. As Mr. Dawson looked up, their gazes met and his body almost froze into place. He let go of Violet, still watching her sister until they joined the group.

"Mr. Dawson, I believe you haven't met my father and this is my younger sister, Rose."

"Good evening, miss DeWitt Bukater." He nodded his head politely.

"Hello." She quickly said, holding her breath.

The others, still almost complete strangers, passed a look of confusion around. Rose stook a step back, his presence making her more uncomfortable as each second passed.

"Do you-" Violet stuttered, "Have you two met before?"

"Meeting is a strong word, miss DeWitt Bukater." Jack spoke before Rose could interfere herself, "but we've seen each other one moment prior to this." He had to be talking about the Widener ball. If anyone found out about their clash from last Wednesday, both their families would be involved in such scandall with perhaps the worst outcome. Rose took a deep breath and twisted the charm on her golden necklace. She felt almost as outraged as right after their quarrel, when she was turning around in her bed and her mind didn't let her fall asleep. Right now it was the complete same. She was laying on top of her sheets, her body sweating heavily of both anger and the consumption of alcohol. The image of Violet dancing with that man was now imprinted on her retina. Although the two sisters didn't see eye to eye at most times, even Rose cared about her enough not to want to have her heart broken by the insensibility of a careless idiot. She closed her eyes for the millionth time that night, begging for sleep to free her from this torment.

"Seriously, Violet. Can you quit it for a second?" Rose snapped at her the next morning. As if her head wasn't hurting enough already, it was now being filled with endless chatter of Mr. Dawson. She put her coffee cup down with such force that it almost spilled over the rim.

Violet laughed. "Are you perhaps jealous that I got all the attention from Mr. Dawson and not you? I did see you looking at us the whole time therefore you don't have to deny it, sister."

"Oh please. I'd rather be run over by ten carriages than to be associated with that smooth talker. You know he is only looking for a wife as a business proposition, right? I also heard he is returning to Boston today, so you haven't made that much of an impression to him that he wants to stay. But if you lack that much self respect, I wish you all the best in the world, sister." She smashed her napkin onto the table and pushed her chair aside, rushing out of the dining room. She collected her coat and hat. "I am going to see Wendy!" She screamed into the silence of the house, hoping anyone had heard her. Opening the door, Rose now truly believed that God had agonized her life with some sort of curse.

"I'll be goddamned."