Chapter Five
We changed for lunch, Rose wearing a gorgeous green dress with a red sash, while I wore a white gown with a pale blue sash. We ate with Mr. Andrews, the man who had designed the Titanic, Mr. Ismay, who had had the idea for the ship, Molly Brown, Mother, and Cal. Molly Brown was quiet, listening intently to what the other people had to say, a small smile displayed on her lips, which grew wider the longer Mr. Ismay talked. The man seemed so proud of Titanic, it was as if he himself had built it, and I admired Mr. Andrews, who sat and patiently listened to Mr. Ismay boast about something he had had little part in building.
"She's the largest moving object ever made by the hand of man in all history." He boasted. "And our master ship builder, Mr. Andrews, designed her from the keel plates, up."
Everyone at the table turned to face Mr. Andrews, who seemed to suddenly awaken at all the attention.
"I may have knocked her together, but the idea was Mr. Ismay's. He envisioned a steamer so grand in scale, and so luxurious in its appointments, that its supremacy would never be challenged. And here she is, willed into solid reality."
I smiled at him, pleased by his poetic speech and slightly more modest speech. On my right, Mr. Ismay's order was being taken by the waiter. I glanced at Rose, who had decided to light a cigarette. The rebellious look had returned to her eyes, and I wondered if her behavior might have anything to do with her reaction to my tale that morning.
"You know I don't like that, Rose," Mother said in a quiet voice, but one that I could hear from two seats down. Rose blew the smoke in her face in a very audacious manner, and even I couldn't believe how far Rose had gone this time. My stomach clenched itself, and I wasn't sure whether Mother would make a public scene in order to make Rose obey her, or if she would let it pass in order to make as little a scene as possible. She let it pass, and Rose continued to smoke her cigarette.
To my surprise, Cal reached out and took the cigarette from the holder and put it out, giving Rose a 'Listen to your mother' look. I didn't react, though I desperately wanted to roll my eyes, and gave my order to the waiter.
"And you, sir?" the waiter asked Cal.
"We'll both have the lamb, rare, with very little mint sauce," Cal told the waiter, glancing at Rose. "You like lamb, right sweet-pea?"
Rose gave him a sarcastic smile, and I could tell that something was definitely wrong. She only acted like this if she was under stress or emotionally strained.
"So are you going to cut her meat for her there, too, Cal?" Molly Brown asked, leaning forward in her seat. Her eyes danced with the same excitement with which Rose's did when she was happy, the way she had been this morning on the deck. Cal did not bother to answer her question, and so Molly quickly changed the subject. "Hey, who came up with the name Titanic? Was it you, Bruce?"
"Well, yes actually. I wanted to convey shear size, and size means stability, luxury, and above all, strength," replied Mr. Ismay, in the same boastful manner with which he had spoke moments earlier.
"Do you know of Dr Freud, Mr. Ismay?" asked Rose. From her tone I could tell that she meant war. "His ideas about the male preoccupation with size might be of particular interest to you."
I could hardly contain myself, and a giggle escaped me. Though Mother didn't notice me, she was so busy glaring in embarrassed horror at her oldest daughter.
"What has gotten into you?" my mother said in utter embarrassment.
Rose quickly excused herself from the table, and I watched her go, fighting my urge to run after her. I knew that if I did, Mother would be equally angry with me, and I knew there should always be one of us who could negotiate the situation.
"You must excuse her, she's very worried about her upcoming wedding. There have been so many problems with the bridesmaids' dresses and the flowers that she's hardly slept at all these past few weeks," my mother lied, trying to explain away the situation. And though Molly and Mr. Andrews were still smiling, all accepted the explanation and pretended as if nothing had happened.
A few moments later our food arrived, and Cal excused himself so that he could fetch Rose. I watched him go, wondering what he would say to her, and hoping that it wouldn't make things even worse than they were already. I knew that when Rose got like this, she could be very touchy, especially about the small things.
That evening we dressed elegantly for dinner, Rose wearing one of the new dresses Cal had bought for her in London, while I wore a red dress with beads sewn in an intricate pattern about the collar. I felt very grown-up, for it was the first time Mother let me wear anything darker than blue to dinner, and I was careful in my selection of jewelry and hairstyle. But Rose did not share my excitement, not even when I reminded her that James was my escort tonight.
James arrived at our rooms early, knocking politely and waiting for Charlotte to open the door. When he was told that I wasn't ready, he accepted being led into the sitting room, where he waited until I made my appearance ten minutes later, feeling like a queen. Mother even let me wear my hair up.
"Wow," he said, looking me over. He all but let his mouth drop. I giggled.
"I take it I look nice?" I asked, offering him my hand. He kissed it.
"More than nice, I would say," he said. Recovering himself, he asked, "And where are the rest of your family?"
"Rose is just about ready, and Mother will be along shortly. And Cal is already downstairs, he's been in the men's lounge all afternoon," I explained. James nodded.
My mother appeared, dressed in a dark green dress and looking very serious and angered, more than I had seen her in years.
"Mother, this is James Robinson. You remember his parents?"
"Yes, I remember. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Robinson," she said, holding out her hand for him to kiss.
Rose appeared then, looking beautiful despite her sour mood, and I could tell that James was impressed.
"I thought you were my escort," I whispered in his ear, and he smiled, catching himself.
"I am," he said. "And anyway, she's engaged."
I pretended to be insulted, and he laughed, making my mother turn around to eye me. She was such an old-fashioned person; even the least bit of laughter between friends of opposite genders could make her frown. I quickly rectified my face, but James kept his smile, not knowing the way Mother's mind worked.
"Rose, darling," Cal greeted her, taking her arm as she took the last step down from the Grand Staircase. I glanced at James, and we both giggled.
"Cal, I believe you've met Mr. Robinson," I said, introducing them.
"Yes, I have, and a finer businessman I've never seen," Cal said, a bit too politely. His smile was too big for him to be telling the truth. I resisted glaring.
"Thank you, Mr. Hockley," James answered automatically.
"Shall we?"
We followed Cal to our table, where many of the richer first-class passengers were seated, including J.J. Astor and his wife, Madeline, Mr. Guggenheim, and once again, Molly Brown. I noted the way my mother glared at her, hating her modern ways and her "new money". I knew she couldn't stand Molly, especially the way she continually hung about her and her friends, the rich women with "old names" and "old money".
Conversation ranged from a series of various topics already discussed, and though I spoke little, I did speak. And Mother didn't glare at me, for which I was grateful. James spoke a lot, though, and each time he spoke I listened carefully, for what he had to say was often of interest. Rose didn't speak at all, and though she ate all her food, the rebellious look on her face was replaced by something far beyond my comprehension, something I couldn't quite place.
"Well, gentlemen, shall we retire to the lounge?" Colonel Gracie asked. All except James rose, and everyone looked at him. "Surely, Mr. Robinson, you do not wish to spend your time in the company of the ladies?" They all laughed, as this was an inconceivable thing to wish for.
"Not at all, Colonel Gracie. I just wanted to stay behind and ask Mrs. DeWitt-Bukator if I might take her daughter for a short walk up on deck," James answered coolly, not at all bothered by Colonel Gracie's comment.
"You may, Mr. Robinson. But please, return her to her rooms before it is too late," Mother said. I knew she loathed the idea, but she could not very well refuse.
James and I rose, and he offered me his arm.
"Do you want to go by your rooms to get your shawl? It's cold out," he offered.
"If I get cold, I'll be sure to tell you," I said, deliberately refusing. He smiled, and we reached the deck.
It was deserted, except for a lone third-class passenger, lying on a bench. We were careful not to disturb him, and walked around to the other side of the ship, and then up to the bow.
The wind whistled about us, enveloping us in it, drawing us in.
"I'm cold now," I whispered, and James wrapped his arms around me, in a demonstration of affection I had never received from any man before.
"Look up at the stars," James said, and I did so, sucking in my breath at the sight.
I had never been very far out from the city, never far from light, and now that night surrounded me, I felt squashed under a multitude of stars and things much larger and stronger than myself, than my control.
"When my brother died, I imagined that his soul had gone up to the stars. He's looking down on me right now, watches me no matter where I go or what I do," James said, his voice sad for the first time since I had met him. "See? There he is."
He pointed to a star winking brightly at us, and I smiled and waved at it. James laughed and did the same.
"I think I'll go up to the stars too one day," James continued. "At least I hope so."
"I'm sure you will," I crooned, burying my head in his chest.
A scream pierced the night, and we both turned our heads towards the stern of the ship, where the scream seemed to have come from. Another scream, and we ran, wondering what was wrong but sure it was urgent.
When we reached the stern, there was no one there except my sister, and the third-class passenger who lay on top of her.
"Rose…?" I asked, not sure what to say.
"What's all this?" The officer demanded, taking in the sight.
The master-at-arms was summoned, and the man, named Jack Dawson, was handcuffed. Cal was also summoned, and some of his friends from the men's lounge came with him. Even Mr. Lovejoy, Cal's bodyguard, came. And simply to gawk at Rose and the man who had supposedly assaulted her.
"This is completely unacceptable! What made you think you could put your hand on my fiancée?" Cal said, roughly pushing Mr. Dawson. "Look at me, you filth!"
Rose stood from the bench on which she had been seated, a blanket draped around her shoulders. She didn't look mutinous, the way she usually did when Cal started talking like that, but she certainly looked desperate.
"Cal!" she said, trying to get his attention, though not very effectively.
"What do you think you were doing?" Cal demanded, continuing to ignore Rose. I tried to step forward, to intervene, to do something, but James put a hand on my shoulder, steadying me, telling me not to get involved. It wasn't my fight.
"Cal, stop! It was an accident!" Rose said, raising her voice.
Cal turned to stare at her, obviously bewildered.
"An accident?"
"It was! Stupid really; I was leaning over and I slipped. I was leaning far over to see the uh, the uh, uh, the uh…" Rose continued, twirling her fingers in circles to indicate the propellers, lying through her teeth. She had obviously been through something that had made her thoughts very jumbled, because usually Rose was the coolest of liars.
"The propellers," Cal said, finishing her sentence for her.
"The propellers! And I slipped. And I would have gone overboard, but Mr. Dawson here saved me, and almost went over himself," Rose finished.
"She…She wanted to see the propellers," Cal repeated, as if he was still trying to register Rose's story. He laughed, a dazed sort of laugh, and I knew the young man was safe.
"Like I said, women and machinery do not mix," Colonel Gracie said, in a tone that clearly said, 'my word is law, do not dispute it.'
"Was that the way of it?" the master-at-arms demanded of Mr. Dawson.
He hesitated a moment, and my stomach clenched in a knot, sure he would call Rose's bluff.
"Yeah. Yeah, that was pretty much it," he agreed finally.
"Well, the boy's a hero then. Good for you sir, well done. So, if all is well, back to our brandy, ay!"
I was grateful for Colonel Gracie's welcome invitation, and Rose was, too. The men turned to go back inside, and Cal put his arm around Rose, readying himself to leave, too.
"Of course. Mr. Lovejoy, I think a twenty should do it," he said.
"Is that the going rate for saving the woman you love?" Rose demanded, and I breathed a quiet sigh of relief, glad to see that she had got her spirit back.
"Rose is displeased. What to do? I know." Cal said, with an idea on his mind, and he walked back to Jack. "Perhaps you could join us for dinner tomorrow evening, to regale our group with your heroic tale."
Mr. Dawson seemed skeptical, and took a long look at Rose before he finally agreed.
"Good, settled then..."
Cal moved off to rejoin their group, taking Rose with him. I stayed behind with James, watching as Mr. Dawson and Mr. Lovejoy spoke, though I didn't hear what they said, and when Mr. Lovejoy moved away to rejoin his boss, I walked up to Mr. Dawson, who had gotten a cigarette from Lovejoy and was smoking it.
"I know my sister wasn't looking at the propellers," I said, forgetting about James, who was standing at a distance, obviously eager to leave and forget about what happened, just as Cal was. "I want to know what she was doing."
Mr. Dawson eyed me, taking in my clothes, my hair, even my shawl-less shoulders.
"She was going to jump," he said, as our eyes met. I gasped. I hadn't known that Rose was that depressed.
"Thank you," I said, when my breath had returned. "I honestly don't know what I'd do without her. I owe you a great debt, Mr. Dawson."
He smiled and shook the hand I held out to him.
"You could start paying it back now by giving me your name," he said, blowing smoke out of his mouth. I blushed a little, feeling a bit indecent.
"Margaret DeWitt-Bukator," I said smoothly.
"It's nice to meet you, Margaret," he said. "And tell your sister thanks."
"I will," I said as I returned to James, who put an arm around me and led me back inside.