Chapter Two

We came running back into our rooms when we realized how late it was. Our mother was in Rose's room, frowning in that way she has when she's far past anger, dressed for lunch. She took one look at our semi-disheveled appearances and knew we had been up to something she wouldn't approve of.

"Go change, Margaret," she told me in an icy tone. "I wish to speak with your sister alone."

I obeyed, pausing in the doorway to glance pityingly at Rose. Then I closed the door and began to dress myself for lunch.

I dressed in a lilac dress with lace at the collar, then went over to my vanity and hastily brushed my hair, taking a second to take in my reflection.

I was three years younger than Rose, so I lacked the worldly look in my eyes that Rose had long-since acquired. I also lacked the rebelliously-set mouth, but I did have the same blue eyes as my sister. What I did not have was her gorgeous flaming hair, so curly and untamed, just like Rose. I had sandy-blonde hair, incredibly straight, except on rare occasions, when the ends would sometimes curl. And as for my face, mine was much more docile than Rose's, making it much more boring, but Mother was constantly telling me that I was beautiful, something I didn't feel. Rose was the beautiful one in the family, but Mother would never admit it, knowing Rose would use this small affection against her one day.

Dressed, I carefully pressed my ear to the door that separated me from Rose's room. I had been brought up in the knowledge that eavesdropping was something young ladies did not do, but in the last year of my life, Rose taught me otherwise. I had been using this skill more and more as the date of her wedding approached, but it wasn't until later that I noticed this.

"Rose, you have to stop acting like this. You know the situation we're in. You know how desperately we need you to marry Cal. And you won't be able to marry him if you keep acting like some heathen who belongs in steerage! And why must you bring your sister into this? Margaret is the child you should be, and you would do well to remember this in these final days before your wedding!" I heard my mother saying.

"Mother, I didn't make Margaret do anything. She wanted to come up on deck herself. And we didn't do anything inappropriate, as I have already said, we were simply standing and the wind tangled our hair," Rose said defensively, in such a tone that I knew she was getting tired of repeating herself.

"Be that as it may, Rose," Mother said. She paused, and I was sure she was looking at the clock in Rose's room, trying to decide whether to go to lunch and lecture Rose later, or do the opposite. "Fetch your sister, we're going to be late, and even if you're willing to risk becoming a social outcast, I'm not."

I stepped away from the door just as Rose yanked it open. Everything in her face said that she was furious, but when she saw me so close to the door she grinned, and all the anger and frustration fell away.

"Come, Margaret, we're late for lunch," she said, still grinning.

I followed her and our mother out into the deserted hallway, and I felt a twinge of guilt for making us late. But, I reasoned in my head, it wasn't my fault, we would have been on time if Mother hadn't decided to needlessly lecture Rose on the way she should be acting.

Cal was already seated at a table with some other first-class passengers, all of their faces unfamiliar to me. He rose when he saw us, and drew away a chair first for my mother, then me. He paused at Rose's chair, angrily noticing how she had seated herself. I glanced quickly at her before Cal sat down between us and blocked my view of her, and noted that the rebellious expression she wore ever more frequently had returned.

"May I introduce my fiancée, Rose DeWitt Bukator, her mother, Ruth DeWitt Bukator, and sister, Margaret," Cal said, motioning to each of us in turn. I smiled at those around me, and they seemed pleased with me, though many of the women stared disapprovingly at Rose, who still seemed to be rebelling.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," a fat woman with silver hair and too much jewelry said. "Your husband was one of the kindest men I've ever known, it's a pity he passed away."

"Thank you for your concern," Mother answered, a response I had heard and given so many times over the past few months that it was permanently inscribed on my mind. "Our family will never quite recover from the loss, I am sure."

"How old are you, Margaret?" someone asked me. I turned, to see that the speaker was a middle-aged man who was balding, and had a slick mustache that curled up at the ends.

"Sixteen, sir," I replied, as politely as I could, not quite sure why my age should interest him.

"Just the age of my son, James! Unfortunately, he is indisposed at the moment, as he is dining with the Captain and Mr. Andrews, the man who designed this fabulous ship," the man said. I smiled and nodded. I hated it when people got the idea that I would like making the acquaintance of their sons.

"It would be my pleasure, sir," I said, the formal response taught me by my mother. Rose glanced at me, and smiled slightly, sensing the lie in my tone.

"You must be very excited about your upcoming wedding," a woman, who I believe was called Mrs. Robinson, asked Rose. The latter smiled falsely at her, putting on her "society mask," as we sometimes called them.

"Yes, ma'am, I'm very excited," Rose said in as pleasant a tone as she could muster. I noted how my mother was nervously clasping in the napkin in her hand, eyeing Rose as she spoke, hoping she would not purposely embarrass herself.

"Of course you are, Caledon is a fine man," Mr. Robinson said, puffing his chest out as if Cal was his own son. Cal smiled at the compliment, never displeased with anyone who boasted about him.

"Yes, he certainly is," Rose said quietly, looking down at the table as she spoke so that I knew that she didn't mean it.

"You are to be her bridesmaid, are you not?" Mrs. Robinson asked of me. The lady seemed to have an obsession with weddings.

"Yes, ma'am," I said.

The food arrived, and I was grateful for that, because it distracted them and made them talk about the elegance of the new ship. The men began to argue about the design of it, and the women were silent, pretending to listen intently. I picked at my food, not as hungry as I should be. My mother glared at me as I did so, not expecting to have to lecture me later about my conduct. That concerned Rose, not me. But I had no appetite. I was bored by all the niceties and fake smiles, all the unspoken rules of society that one had to follow, and for the first time in my life I began to understand just why Rose acted the way she did. Usually I told myself she did so because she liked to attract attention and annoy Mother, but now I knew there was more to the story.

"Gentlemen, shall we retire to the lounge?" an elderly gentleman asked. They all rose, and we were left behind.

"Rose, Margaret, come along, I suppose you are feeling tired after the exertions of unpacking," Mother said, standing and expecting us to do the same. I rose, always the obedient daughter, but Rose remained seated, staring out the window at the sea. "Rose!" my mother hissed, and Rose turned her head, a quizzical look on her face.

"Come on, Rose," I said quietly, and she rose and followed us out of the dining saloon, back to our rooms.

"I never expected to see you two behave so horribly in public," Mother chided us when we were safe in the privacy of our own suite. "I hope I never have to reprimand you again, Margaret. Clearly your sister has had a negative effect on you, and one which I fully intend to speak to her about. You may leave now, Margaret. Go rest, we will have a long night."

"No, Mother. It wasn't Rose's fault I didn't enjoy being in such company. It's your fault, for forcing us to act. I don't want to wear a mask of falseness and fake joy. I want to be free, and I want to be able to sit at a table and speak without first being spoken to. I want to dress the way I please, and speak my mind. I'm tired of society, I'm tired of all the games. I'm just tired, Mother."

She stared at me in shock for a moment. I thought she would faint. Surely she thought it was all a nightmare, thought she would wake up soon and it would all be over. But it was real, and now she had two rebellious daughters on her hands.

She looked pleadingly at Rose, hoping she would be able to talk some sense into me, the last obedient daughter left. But Rose was grinning, looking at me with sisterly pride plainly visible on her face.

"I'm going to pretend I never heard that, Margaret. I am going to lie down, I am beginning to feel ill. I only hope that when I wake up, you will also be feeling more like yourself. Both of you."

She left, and Rose and I remained where we were.

"I'm sorry I got you in trouble," I said finally. "But I finally see it your way, Rose. I hate those people. They're such hypocrites, and the only thing they ever think about is furthering their own agendas. How I could ever have thought that any of them were my friends!"

Rose laughed, genuinely happy for the first time in months.

"I'm glad you see it now," she said. "I only hope that now you are not totally biased against them, for some of those people are truly quite kind."

"I won't be, Rose," I promised. "Just so long as you help me to distinguish the bad ones from the kind ones."

She smiled and I knew that this had opened a new door in our relationship, one previously locked because of my unquestioning obedience. But now that my eyes had been opened, the door had opened too, and I knew that even if Rose did marry Cal and moved far away from me, she would never be as far away as she had been in the past few years.