The next day, Stanford kept an eye out for Hephzibah. He didn't know why, but he did.
She was different. Yes, that was what intrigued him. Not only was she poor and dark-skinned, but she was intelligent, witty, kind, and beautiful. When Stanford went to bed last night, he had laid in bed and thought about her. She was mysterious. He was interested. He wanted to learn more about her.
When Stanford found himself alone, he decided to explore the ship and keep an eye out for Hephzibah. It got to a point where he was actively looking for her. After checking area passengers of all classes could mingle, he took in a deep breath and decided to explore the third-class section of the Titanic. First-class passengers could go anywhere they wanted, but third-class passengers were forbidden from entering the first-class thresholds.
Sun trickled down from the open ceiling. Benches were full of adults pleasantly chatting in the late-morning. Children were running around and playing. One child was chasing a rat, receiving laughs from adults. A piano played cheerful music in the back. Stanford climbed down the steps and smiled pleasantly at the company. It was by no means luxurious by any stretch of the mind, but everyone seemed to be having a good time. He passed by a very-pregnant woman who was walking with her three-year-old daughter and holding her hand. One man was sketching another man without the model even knowing it. Some women were gossiping while their children played by their feet. There was so much life into such a tightly-fitted room. The atmosphere here was much more comfortable than any room on the first-class section of the Titanic.
Sticking out like a sore thumb, being the only one with such dark skin, Hephzibah was sitting on a bench and chatting with a man with glasses and light-brown hair. Stanford also stuck out in the crowd, wearing a nice suit and clearly a first-class passenger. The room was a little more quiet so people could watch him, but not much quieter. He was used to people staring at him, but that didn't mean he liked it. He slowly approached Hephzibah and the man she was talking to and soon he caught Hephzibah's eye. The man she was talking to also looked at him and smiled pleasantly.
"Good morning, Ms. Cece." Stanford greeted.
"G'mornin', Mr. Pines." Hephzibah replied and looked at her friend. "Fidds, this is Stanford Pines, the man I had the pleasure of stargazin' with last night. Mr. Pines, this is my friend Fiddleford McGucket."
"Pleasure's all mine." Fiddleford spoke in a thick Appalachian accent as he extended a hand to shake.
Stanford shook it. "Greetings." He waited for Fiddleford to make a comment or even look at his hand, but Fiddleford did nothing but let go of his hand and smile pleasantly. Stanford smiled and asked, "So, Mr. McGucket, where are you from?"
"Oh, I'm from America, Mr Pines." Fiddleford answered pleasantly. "I'm from Tennessee. I'm on m'way home now, gonna catch a train in New York. Where ya from?"
"New Jersey. I have a brother who lives in New York and we'll be visiting with him before returning home."
Fiddleford turned to Hephzibah and asked, "What 'bout ya, Hephzie? Where ya from, 'gain?"
Hephzibah shrugged. "Depends whatcha mean by that. My grandparents were born in South Africa, but my parents were both born in Ireland, n' so was I, but my grandfather n' I… well, we started movin' around a lot when I was seven. I've been in n' out of the United Kingdom for years."
"Really?" Stanford clarified and when Fiddleford patted the seat next to him on the bench, he sat down. "Where have you been?"
"Well, most of Ireland n' Scotland. I visited Iceland, but that didn't last too long. I've been to Norway, Sweden, n' Finland, n' now Britain. N' soon America!" Hephzibah cheered with sparkling eyes. "Tell me, America, what's it like?"
Stanford thought for a moment as how to describe it, and settled with, "New York has some of the tallest buildings you will ever see. It's filled to the brim with people and there are dozens of stores and shops and cafes as far as they eye can see."
"Tennessee is nothin' like that." Fiddleford added to make it clear that America was different depending where you are from. "Full of poor little shacks scattered in the midst of big woods n' mountains, all very beautiful. You've never lived until you've seen a sunrise on a mountaintop."
"Oh, I've seen plenty of woods n' mountains n' cities." Hephzibah explained. "I just wanna be free n' see new places n' meet new people!"
Stanford, Fiddleford, and Hephzibah ended up moving onward with their conversation, talking well into the day. At one point, when Fiddleford was distracted talking to one young lady, Stanford and Hephzibah went upstairs to the main dock and walked around where people of all classes were allowed to mingle. Stanford was surprised how easy it was to talk to her, like talking to Stanley. While he told of mischievous stories he and Stanley had gotten into as children, Hephzibah told of stores she had of traveling with her grandfather.
"If you don't mind me asking, Ms. Cece, where is your grandfather now?" Stanford asked.
"I don't mind." Hephzibah said with a shrug. "Buried in a cemetery somewhere in Ireland. He died when I was twelve."
"I'm very sorry."
"Thank ya, Mr. Pines." Hephzibah replied and paused to look out at the ocean that circled the ship. It was a little after noon and the sun was golden and sparkled on the seawater. "He was a good man. We taught each other how to read. I wanted to go to school, but that was out of the question, so after we both learned how to read, we read whatever we could get our hands on, which wasn't much, but some of my fondest memories are sneakin' into a library late at night n' borrowin' a book." Hephzibah happily shared as she leaned over the rail and crossed her arms on it, sharing at the sea.
Stanford smiled pleasantly at her. "You like books?"
"I love books." Hephzibah breathed. "I can't wait to get to America! I'm gonna go to one of those libraries n' stay as long as I want, readin' as many books as I want!"
Stanford understood why she had never been able to go into a library freely in the past. He wanted to hold out her hand to her, but he hesitated. He clenched his hand and rubbed it with his thumb, looking down at it and recounting his fingers. Six. There will always be six. But then Stanford remembered how undisturbed, how accepting, Hephzibah had been about his birth-defect, so he took in a deep breath and held out his hand to her, just by her left shoulder.
"Come with me." Stanford invited.
Hephzibah glanced at his hand and smiled as she stood up straight and took it, her fingers draped over his hand gently like a curtain as he walked her down to a more sophisticated area of the ship, just shy of first class. A few very well dressed men and women peered at them, but Stanford pressed forward and Hephzibah was used to strange looks, so she found the task to ignore them quite easily. At one point, they reached a set of double doors made of mahogany and Stanford let go of Hephzibah's hand to push the doors open. Normally his eyes would scan for a new book to pour himself into, but he focused his spears of vision on Hephzibah to watch her reaction to the library.
It was not tall, about the same height as your average room, but it was wide and crowded with bookshelves with couches and chairs and desks scattered among the seemingly endless knowledge, a high-class collection of books, documents, and stories all waiting to be read. Hephzibah's eyes widened and her jaw dropped, a big smile on her face. She stepped into the room and awed humbly at the library.
"I've never seen so many books in one place!" Hephzibah exclaimed.
Stanford chuckled good-naturedly and allowed the doors to close behind them when they walked in. "If you like it so much you should use it."
Hephzibah walked down the shelves, being watched by Stanford with his hands being his back and observing her every move admirably. Hephzibah didn't mind; she let him watch her walk in her rags and read the titles of the books. "Now how are ya to tell which books are good?" Hephzibah asked as she ran a finger along the spines of the many books. "None of 'em are old or worn lookin'."
"How is that suppose to determine if it is a good book or not, Ms. Cece?" Stanford asked amusingly.
"A worn book is a book that has been loved n' read many times, therefore it's context must be good." Hephzibah explained. "Then again, ya can never judge a book by it's cover, worn n' old or shiny n' new."
Stanford stood still and gave Hephzibah's words some thought. She was quite wise for someone so poor and young. Perhaps all of her traveling and being raised by her grandfather had aged her mind and spirit. Hephzibah picked a book and opened it. She smiled, sat on a couch and began to read.
Stanford peek at the title and said, "Ah, that's an excellent read."
"I know." Hephzibah said. "I've read it before. Several times."
"I'm surprised you didn't pick up Romeo and Juliet."
Hephzibah gagged, making Stanford give a small laugh, and she explained in an irritated tone, "Why on Earth would I enjoy such a pointless story? They killed 'emselves for nothin'."
Stanford laughed and sat on the couch next to her, resting his head on his hand as his arm laid on the back of the couch. Hephzibah read on for a moment, trying to ignore the young man that was watching her, and then Stanford requested, "Will you read it aloud to me? I'm tired of reading to myself."
Hephzibah glanced up, gave him a sheepish smile, and started from the beginning.
"Her voice was as soft as silk as she read. She didn't try to imitate the cast of Hamlet perfectly, but she'd take on an accent or had a lisp, all except for Hamlet himself, which she read of using her own voice proudly." Ford remembered fondly, his head down and his old face smiling. He looked up to find Liz writing rapidly and he suddenly realized that he may have been going too fast this entire time. "Should I slow down for you?"
"No, please!" Liz said as she wrote away quickly in her journal, a dazzling smile on her face. She had come here to hear Ford's personal record of the Titanic tragedy, not a love story, but she was hooked and didn't want to stop until the story was done. "Keep going!"
Ford smiled and chuckled at his little audience before continuing to tell the interviewer his story.
By the third act, the library doors opened and Stanley walked in. "Poindexter, are ya in here? Pa…" He stopped when he saw his brother sitting with a woman on the couch, the Negro woman reading Shakespeare. Stanford blushed a little when Stanley smiled cockily. "And who is this?"
Stanford stood up and cleared his throat, "Stanley, this is my friend, Ms. Hephzibah Cece. Ms. Cece, this is my twin brother, Mr. Stanley Pines."
Hephzibah stood and closed the book as she smiled. She and Stanley shook hands and Stanley greeted her warmly. "Nice to meet you. Coming to dinner?"
Hephzibah laughed and shook her head. "No, I don't think…"
"What the heck, Ford?" Stanley asked his brother. "If she's your friend than she should come to dinner! She looks like she could use a good meal."
"Stanley," Stanford said quietly. "You know it's… it wouldn't be… she's a…"
"So?" Stanley asked with arms crossed over his chest and a raised eyebrow. "Who gives a damn?"
Stanford glanced back at Hephzibah as she put the book back where she picked it up from and looked ready to go back to the third-class section of the boat if needed. Stanley was right. If nothing else, Hephzibah was his friend, and if Stanley was willing to support having her at dinner, then maybe it would be possible. "Ms. Cece…"
"Please, 'Hephzibah' is fine." Hephzibah requested.
Stanford smiled. "Hephzibah, would you please accompany us to dinner?"
The third-class female shrugged with a smile and said, "Alright, I suppose I can."
Stanford gave the matter some thought, and then lead the way out of the library. "Not dressed like that."
Hephzibah gave him a sneer. "What's wrong with the way I look?" She demanded. She knew it wasn't acceptable to wear male clothing, but she liked her shirts and pants and jacket. Plus, it's not like she had any other clothes to change into.
Stanford turned around and ignored the smug look Stanley gave him from behind Hephzibah. "Nothing! N-Nothing, you're… you're very beautiful, Hephzibah, but if you go into the lion's den with a piece of meat hanging from around your neck, you will be mauled."
As it turned out, Stanley had a drinking buddy from last night who made expensive dresses, so Stanley introduced Hephzibah to Ralph and he was excited about an interesting project: a dress nice enough for a first-class dinner in the span of six hours. Stanley's friend apparently made quite a profit making dresses in record time. Hephzibah stood on a little stool in his second-class bedroom, keeping her guard up in case he tried anything funny, but Ralph was a pleasant fellow, chatting away happily as he measured her and made her a simple yet elegant dress made out of dark-green silk that sparkled in the light. The dress was low enough to hide her dirty boots so she didn't have to find a pair of new shoes and she made due with her appearance with her limited access.
Meanwhile, Stanford stood outside of the dining hall four minutes after seven, immensely anxious for his friend's arrival. This was a horrible idea and if he had any sense he would have turned down Stanley's idea, but the fact remained that Stanford enjoyed Hephzibah's company and he was happy to provide dinner for her. Stanley was right; she needed a square meal.
Stanley was right by Stanford's side for awhile, until he got distracted by a group of giggling females and wandered off to charm them before dinner. Stanford checked the clock by the stairwell many times, periodically tugging on his white gloves nervously and fixing his cuffs, until when he once checked the grandfather clock and his eye caught someone that took his breath away.
The dress was made of dark-green silk that sparkled and shined. It was layered at the bottom half, like other fashionable dresses at the time, and the dress had short sleeves and was well cut to show her chest but keep her breasts covered modestly. She also wore long, white gloves that went up a little past her elbows and her dreadlocks were tied and pinned up in an elegant bun. She bore no jewelry and Stanford could tell by the sound of her steps that she still wore her boots, but she was beautiful and had washed well before dinner. Stanford smiled encouragingly at her and, despite the unpleasant looks she was receiving for her presence, she was smiling back at him with rosy cheeks and sparkling brown eyes.
When Hephzibah was two steps away from him, Stanford gently took her gloved hand and kissed it as it was customary to do when greeting a lady.
Hephzibah giggled and hissed, "I saw that on a nickelodeon once n' I've always wanted someone to do that to me."
Stanford couldn't help but return the chuckle. "You're shining like a new penny, Hephzibah." He said quietly. Stanford offered his right arm to her and Hephzibah took it, stepping down to his level and allowing him to lead to dinner.
Stanley soon joined them and bowed to Hephzibah lower than necessary and talking to the floor. "May I also escort such a fine young lady to dinner, Ms. Hephzibah Cece?" He said mockingly, making Stanford and Hephzibah snicker.
"I suppose ya may." Hephzibah said and gave him her free arm.
Hephzibah was much stronger than the twins knew and was used to taking care of herself; it was alien to be between two well-built men and escorted to such a nice dinner. They led on down the stairs to the dining hall, flowing in a river of nicely dressed men and women, all putting on a show just for the final meal of the day. Hephzibah found pairs of eyes darting to her. That wasn't alien to her, but with nowhere to run and no way to protect herself if the worst comes to worst (that's not entirely true, she always had a pocket knife in each of her boots), she felt exposed and insecure, but of course it would never come to that in such a place. Unknowingly, her arm tightened around Stanford's, but Stanford noticed and patted her hand slyly.
"What the hell am I supposed to do?" Hephzibah whispered, feeling like she was already doing something wrong.
"For one, it is unwise to swear." Stanford advised.
"All you need to do is stand by us and look pretty." Stanley whispered back. "Just hold your head high, keep up a brave face, and copy every other lady you see."
"Sounds about right." Stanford approved. "There's not much else to it."
"They all love money. Just pretend you're related to an African prince or something and you're in the club."
"Stanley." Stanford hissed.
Stanley opened his mouth to ask what the sudden scolding was about, but his eye caught their father and he suddenly understood the signal Stanford was trying to deliver. Filbrick wore his best suit and a black fedora with matching sunglasses. Rumor had it he had sensitive eyes which required him to wear sunglasses indoors, when in actuality he just liked to wear them and needed an excuse to be allowed the unusual decor among the rich. He saw his sons walking a black woman to the dining hall and his jaw tightened, but in the midst of a large crowd, it was best to play it off rather than cause a scene.
Pa approached and Stanford swallowed quietly before making the first introduction. "Pa, this is our friend, Ms. Hephzibah Cece. Hephzibah, this is our father, Mr. Filbrick Pines."
"It's an honor to meet ya, sir." Hephzibah said with a polite nod.
Pa offered his hand, and Hephzibah took it. They shook and Pa said, "It's nice to meet you, too, Ms. Cece. I'm afraid I didn't getta chance to meet you last night at dinner."
"No, sir, I was elsewhere." Hephzibah answered.
"Ah, I'd assume so since it's be hard to miss you in a crowd." Pa suggested coldly, and though no one could see it behind his sunglasses, his eyes darted to Hephzibah's dark skin.
Stanley's blood boiled and Stanford paled a shade, but Hephzibah was all too used to this type of manner and only smiled politely. "Yes, sir, I am. You'll find enjoyable people are hard to miss."
Pa forced a smile. "Well, let's eat before midnight, shall we?" And he walked off, no doubt so he could scowl or growl to himself however he pleased.
Stanley leaned to his left to whisper a quick joke to Hephzibah to make her feel better. "Into the lion's den."