Hey!
I'm back, finally! I haven't slept much in the past few days because this is my last week of exams until June and I still have other work to do as well, so yeah... Sorry for keeping you guys waiting.
- milagro yuval: This chapter is about the size of the last two because of the little time I found to write between my job and university. I intend to make them a little bit longer in the future but it depends on how much my teachers are asking from me. I just realized that I've got way more to do this semester than in the past two.
- Number Ten: Yes, I realized that, too. I'm not sure how much I'll add to the script - or if I'll add anything at all. I'm bad at re-telling scenes that have already been shown in a movie or written in a book. Worse, I don't remember them when I get to the point where the'd fit in.
- ChillPillBerry: I will, don't worry! ;)
- determindtobloom: Thanks a lot! I'm trying really hard here to make this work out!
- rose2e: Your wish is my command. ;) Here you go!
- Lady's Secret: Thanks! I love your name by the way. Where did you come up with it? :)
- Kepler11c: Thanks a lot! Though I'm pretty sure that you'll find some typos if you look hard enough. lol
- nessietrash: Yes! I love her, too! She says what she thinks - which is mostly what I'm thinking while writing these scenes. ;) And someone has to tell Ruth and the lot that they're a bunch of idiots who really need to open their eyes... ;)
Anyway, I hope you guys get to enjoy chapter five! It was harder to write than I thought given the seriousness of the scene but I hope I managed okay here.
"Perhaps we should take a break," Rosalie suggested while the rest of them still stared after Sam who'd left the living room after her surprise outbreak.
They'd paused the movie, unsure whether their friend would return soon.
"Nonsense," Mr. Ismay snapped. "This girl has the audacity to insult one of the most respectable persons onboard my ship! I see absolutely no reason to adjourn our return merely because Miss Riley is unable to control her temper."
Matt glared at him. Cat, sensing danger, quickly intervened before things got out of hand.
"It's okay, Rosalie," she reassured her friend with a smile. "You know Sam, she'll be back in a minute. Besides, she already knows the movie by heart, she won't miss anything if we continue with this here."
"Still." Rosalie, always worrying about her friends, bit her lip. "I think maybe someone should check on her…"
Matt sighed. "I'll do it," he muttered. "I could use some fresh air as well…"
He shot an annoyed glare at Ismay and stood up to follow his sister out of the room, leaving Rosalie and Cat alone with their guests.
Their little experiment was certainly going to be an interesting one if things continued that way.
"Okay… shall we?", Cat asked and pressed Play to continue with the movie.
60 EXT. POOP DECK / AFTER DECKS - DAY
Jack sits on a bench in the sun. Titanic's wake spreads out behind him to the horizon. He has his knees pulled up, supporting a leather bound sketching pad, his only valuable possession. With conte crayon he draws rapidly, using sure strokes. An emigrant from Manchester named CARTMELL has his 3-year old daughter CORA standing on the lower rung of the rail. She is leaned back against his beer barrel of a stomach, watching the seagulls.
THE SKETCH captures them perfectly, with a great sense of the humanity of the moment. Jack is good. Really good. Fabrizio looks over Jack's shoulder. He nods appreciatively.
"Where did you learn to draw like that?", Cat asked him, fascinated at how precise he managed to capture the moment.
A light smile tugged at his lips. "Paris," Jack answered. "I lived with an old street artist for a while. The man thought I had enough talent to take me on as an apprentice." He shrugged. "And here I am…"
While Cat had to chuckle at imagining a young Jack Dawson getting drawing lessons from an old guy, Ruth eyed him coldly. Hadn't Sam's little speech achieved anything?
TOMMY RYAN, a scowling young Irish emigrant, watches as a crewmember comes by, walking three small dogs around the deck. One of them, a BLACK FRENCH BULLDOG, is among the ugliest creatures on the planet.
TOMMY: That's typical. First class dogs come down here to take a shit.
Jack looks up from his sketch.
JACK: That's so we know where we rank in the scheme of things.
TOMMY: Like we could forget.
Jack glances across the well deck. At the aft railing of B deck promenade stands ROSE, in a long yellow dress and white gloves.
Rose stared at the screen. She'd never seen herself like that – bathed in golden sunlight which made her appear somehow regal and beautiful… as if she were from a different world altogether.
She caught a glimpse of Jack who seemed to be as fascinated by the scene as she herself.
CLOSE ON JACK, unable to take his eyes off of her. They are across from each other, about 60 feet apart, with the well deck like a valley between them. She on her promontory, he on his much lower one. She stares down at the water.
He watches her unpin her elaborate hat and take it off. She looks at the frilly absurd thing, then tosses it over the rail. It sails far down to the water and is carried away, astern. A spot of yellow in the vast ocean. He is riveted by her. She looks like a figure in a romantic novel, sad and isolated.
"Rose!", her mother exclaimed shocked.
"I'm afraid I was never too fond of the hat, mother," Rose replied in a surprisingly mocking tone. "Besides, it's not like I don't own a hundred other ones."
Chuckling, Cat caught Mr. Andrews' eyes who clearly found Rose's – if rare – temperamental outbursts as amusing as half of the other people in this room.
On the other hand, however, it seemed that it took Ruth all her strength to not lose her temper over her daughter's inappropriate behavior.
"You really should calm down, Mrs. DeWitt Bukater," Cat said. "I wholeheartedly agree with Rose – it was a ghastly piece of fashion."
She flashed Rose a smile which the other girl returned, thankful for having Cat's support.
Fabrizio taps Tommy and they both look at Jack gazing at Rose. Fabrizio and Tommy grin at each other.
Rose turns suddenly and looks right at Jack. He is caught staring, but he doesn't look away. She does, but then looks back. Their eyes meet across the space of the well deck, across the gulf between worlds.
Ruth followed the scene with what appeared to be cool interest. On the inside, however, a sickening feeling began to stir in her stomach as she realized the intensity of the moment. Was a simple contact of the eyes all it had taken her daughter to foolishly risk her engagement to Caledon Hockley, their security for a future without worries?
She glanced over at Rose, a slight blush covering her daughter's cheeks, and wondered not for the first time how much of Dawson's heroic rescue story was the actual truth.
Jack sees a man (Cal) come up behind her and take her arm. She jerks her arm away. They argue in pantomime. She storms away, and he goes after her, disappearing along the A-deck promenade. Jack stares after her.
TOMMY: Forget it, boyo. You'd as like have angels fly out o' yer arse as get next to the likes o' her.
"Perhaps, Mr. Dawson," Cal said lowly. "You should heed your… friend's advice."
CUT TO:
61 INT. FIRST CLASS DINING SALOON - NIGHT
SLOWLY PUSHING IN ON ROSE as she sits, flanked by people in heated conversation. Cal and Ruth are laughing together, while on the other side LADY DUFF-GORDON is holding forth animatedly. We don't hear what they are saying. Rose is staring at her plate, barely listening to the inconsequential babble around her.
OLD ROSE (V.O.): I saw my whole life as if I'd already lived it... an endless parade of parties and cotillions, yachts and polo matches... always the same narrow people, the same mindless chatter. I felt like I was standing at a great precipice, with no one to pull me back, no one who cared... or even noticed.
The words stirred something inside Rose, a whirlwind of buried emotions that were threatening to break through the surface once more. In her lap, she had a tight grip of her right wrist, her finger nails digging mercilessly into her skin. Would her mother finally see what she was putting her through? That her world was collapsing around her, that the endless emptiness in her life was threatening to swallow her? Would Ruth finally be able to see that Jack was the anchor keeping her from drowning?
Molly watched the dinner scene with interest.
"A blind man can see that there's somethin' wrong with the girl, Ruth," she said almost accusingly.
"She was being melodramatic, Mrs. Brown," Ruth replied coolly and with a precis emphasis on Molly's last name. "Furthermore, I do not see why you should concern yourself with my daughter's wellbeing any longer."
The indication was as clear as daylight, yet Molly decided that it was time someone stood up for the girl and give her a voice where she had none.
ANGLE BENEATH TABLE showing Rose's hand, holding a tiny fork from her crab salad. She pokes the crab-fork into the skin of her arm, harder and harder until it draws blood.
Molly shook her head and pointed towards the screen.
"Do you still call that melodramatic?", she asked. "For god's sake, Ruth, the girl's a mess. I don't understand what's wrong with you! This is your daughter we're talkin' about!"
Ruth's nostrils were flaring and she could barely hold her tongue when she finally replied: "As you've correctly stated, Mrs. Brown, Rose is my daughter. Her wellbeing, therefore, lies in my hands. Caledon Hockley is a fine young man," with an admirable inheritance that will secure our future, she added in her thoughts, "whose intentions have been nothing but honorable. If only she would see-"
"Oh, I do, mother," Rose interrupted for the first time. "Believe me, I do. It's you who refuses to see the truth. I have been trying to make you understand how I feel about this engagement but you would never listen."
Ruth, having gotten paler with each sentence, stared at Rose.
"Do you want me to work as a seamstress?", she asked shakily. "Is that what you want? That I sell our precious possessions, our memories so they are scattered all over the place?"
Cat could see that Rose was trying hard to hold back another retort. Ruth was her mother, after all, and even though the woman had forced her into an engagement with a man she didn't love, she was the only constant in Rose's life.
Stop trying to please her, Cat thought as their eyes met. She'll never cease to dictate your life if you go on like this.
She didn't say the words out loud. Rose would have to learn to step up for herself, grow some backbone.
"Life isn't fair, mother," Rose finally replied. "We are women, remember? Our choices are never easy."
CUT TO:
62 INT. CORRIDOR / B DECK - NIGHT
Rose walks along the corridor. A steward coming the other way greets her, and she nods with a slight smile. She is perfectly composed.
CUT TO:
63 INT. ROSE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT
She enters the room. Stands in the middle, staring at her reflection in the large vanity mirror. Just stands there, then-
With a primal, anguished cry she claws at her throat, ripping off her pearl necklace, which explodes across the room. In a frenzy she tears at herself, her clothes, her hair... then attacks the room. She flings everything off the dresser and it flies clattering against the wall. She hurls a hand mirror against the vanity, cracking it.
The entire room was silent, shocked at Rose's outburst.
Cal watched the scene with disgust. "Will I have to expect more of these… violent reactions to dining with your future husband, sweetpea?", he asked with a tense smile.
Rose remained silent, only her eyes betrayed the storm of emotions raging on inside of her.
"We may have to do something about that, don't you agree, darling?" The questions sounded so innocent that Rosalie had the urge to throw up. "Anger doesn't suit you, darling."
CUT TO:
64 EXT. A DECK PROMENADE, AFT - NIGHT
Rose runs along the B deck promenade. She is disheveled, her hair flying. She is crying, her cheeks streaked with tears. But also angry, furious! Shaking with emotions she doesn't understand... hatred, self-hatred, desperation. A strolling couple watch her pass. Shocked at the emotional display in public.
Mr. Andrews felt a pang of sympathy for the young girl. It was obvious that she was in distress, yet not a single one of the passengers she passed along the way offered help.
CUT TO:
65 EXT. POOP DECK - NIGHT
Jack is kicked back on one of the benches gazing at the stars blazing gloriously overhead. Thinking artist thoughts and smoking a cigarette.
Hearing something, he turns as Rose runs up the stairs from the well deck. They are the only two on the stern deck, except for QUARTERMASTER ROWE, twenty feet above them on the docking bridge catwalk. She doesn't see Jack in the shadows, and runs right past him.
TRACKING WITH ROSE as she runs across the deserted fantail. Her breath hitches in an occasional sob, which she suppresses. Rose slams against the base of the stern flagpole and clings there, panting. She stares out at the black water.
Then starts to climb over the railing. She has to hitch her long dress way up, and climbing is clumsy. Moving methodically, she turns her body and gets her heels on the white-painted gunwale, her back to the railing, facing out toward blackness. 60 feet below her, the massive propellers are churning the Atlantic into white foam, and a ghostly wake trails off toward the horizon.
"Rose!", Ruth cried out. "Has all common sense finally left you? You could have fallen to your death!"
Slowly, Rose turned to face her mother with a blank expression. "Perhaps, mother, that's exactly what I had in mind when I climbed over the railing."
"How could you-," Ruth breathed in disbelief, shaking her head.
"Maybe, know you'll now know the real reason Jack Dawson was invited to dine with us," Rose added bitterly. "Certainly, not because of my clumsiness."
IN A LOW ANGLE, we see Rose standing like a figurehead in reverse. Below her are the huge letters of the name "TITANIC".
She leans out, her arms straightening... looking down hypnotized, into the vortex below her. Her dress and hair are lifted by the wind of the ship's movement. The only sound, above the rush of water below, is the flutter and snap of the big Union Jack right above her.
JACK: Don't do it.
She whips her head around at the sound of his voice. It takes a second for her eyes to focus.
ROSE: Stay back! Don't come any closer!
Jack sees the tear tracks on her cheeks in the faint glow from the stern running lights.
JACK: Take my hand. I'll pull you back in.
ROSE: No! Stay where you are. I mean it. I'll let go.
JACK: No, you won't.
ROSE: What do you mean no I won't? Don't presume to tell me what I will and will not do. You don't know me.
JACK: You would have done it already. Now come on, take my hand.
Rose is confused now. She can't see him very well through the tears, so she wipes them with one hand, almost losing her balance.
ROSE: You're distracting me. Go away.
JACK: I can't. I'm involved now. If you let go I have to jump in after you.
"How very noble of you, Mr. Dawson," Cal said coolly.
ROSE: Don't be absurd. You'll be killed.
He takes off his jacket.
JACK: I'm a good swimmer.
He starts unlacing his left shoe.
ROSE: The fall alone would kill you.
JACK: It would hurt. I'm not saying it wouldn't. To be honest I'm a lot more concerned about the water being so cold.
She looks down. The reality factor of what she is doing is sinking in.
Curiously, Cat glanced over at Ruth. She was tense, her blue eyes following the scene intensely without even blinking once. Was the full meaning of the situation finally sinking in? Or was it merely a show of disapproval of the fact that her only child had tried to throw herself off the stern of a giant ocean liner?
ROSE: How cold?
JACK (taking off his left shoe): Freezing. Maybe a couple degrees over.
He starts unlacing his right shoe.
JACK: Ever been to Wisconsin?
ROSE (perplexed): No.
"This is not the time for small talk, Mr. Dawson," Ismay snapped, his ever-annoying self obviously fully recovered from the outbursts of the past fifteen minutes. "The boy should have called for help immediately! This is a very delicate situation!"
"With all due respect, Mr. Ismay," Jack replied in his most gentleman-like voice. "Had I raised alarm, she most likely would have panicked and fallen – intentionally or not."
How Jack managed to remain so calm in front of these people was a mystery to Cat. He'd gotten nothing but insults or snappy comments, yet his composure was still intact.
JACK: Well they have some of the coldest winters around, and I grew up there, near Chippewa Falls. Once when I was a kid me and my father were ice-fishing out on Lake Wissota... ice-fishing's where you chop a hole in the-
ROSE: I know what ice fishing is!
Despite the tense situation, a chuckle went around the room as Rose's temper flared up.
JACK: Sorry. Just... you look like kind of an indoor girl. Anyway, I went through some thin ice and I'm tellin' ya, water that cold... like that right down there... it hits you like a thousand knives all over your body. You can't breathe, you can't think... least not about anything but the pain.
(takes off his other shoe)
Which is why I'm not looking forward to jumping in after you. But like I said, I don't see a choice. I guess I'm kinda hoping you'll come back over the rail and get me off the hook here.
ROSE: You're crazy.
JACK: That's what everybody says. But with all due respect, I'm not the one hanging off the back of a ship.
He slides one step closer, like moving up on a spooked horse.
JACK: Come on. You don't want to do this. Give me your hand.
Rose stares at this madman for a long time. She looks at his eyes and they somehow suddenly seem to fill her universe.
The sickening feeling regained its hold of her as Ruth watched the events like a statue. Caledon Hockley might not have noticed, but Ruth DeWitt Bukater was a mother and she, too, had once been young and foolish. Reality had opened her eyes, had brutally shown her that life was not kind to the female gender. She had tried to shield Rose from the harshness the world had to offer but her daughter's relationship to the steerage boy threatened to destroy their very existence. If the ship was really going to sink as Catherine Graham predicted it would, there was still hope the Jack Dawson would perish in the disaster. As cold and unforgiving as it sounded, even to her own ears, Ruth would no longer have to worry about a life in poverty.
ROSE: Alright.
She unfastens one hand from the rail and reaches it around toward him. He reaches out to take it, firmly.
JACK: I'm Jack Dawson.
ROSE (voice quavering): Pleased to meet you, Mr. Dawson.
Rose starts to turn. Now that she has decided to live, the height is terrifying. She is overcome by vertigo as she shifts her footing, turning to face the ship. As she starts to climb, her dress gets in the way, and one foot slips off the edge of the deck.
She plunges, letting out a piercing SHRIEK. Jack, gripping her hand, is jerked toward the rail. Rose barely grabs a lower rail with her free hand.
QUARTERMASTER ROWE, up on the docking bridge hears the scream and heads for the ladder.
ROSE: HELP! HELP!
JACK: I've got you. I won't let go.
You jump, I jump, remember? Jack thought when his eyes met Rose's. He'd only just found her, he had no intentions of losing her – ever.
He didn't believe for one second that Ruth was trying to make her daughter's life miserable by keeping them apart. He'd lived on the streets for several years now, he knew about the hardships on the road, but he'd give anything to support the girl with the mouthful-of-a-name so she wouldn't have to go through the same ordeal.
Rose was a free spirit, quick-minded, intelligent – not at all the porcelain doll Cal was showing off to his rich friends. He'd ask her to come with him in New York but unlike her fiancé, Jack would always accept her answer – even if she refused him.
Jack holds her hand with all his strength, bracing himself on the railing with his other hand. Rose tries to get some kind of foothold on the smooth hull. Jack tries to lift her bodily over the railing. She can't get any footing in her dress and evening shoes, and she slips back. Rose SCREAMS again.
It took all the self-control Ruth had to keep up her stoic façade. She knew that Rose had made it, it was absolutely silly to even consider thinking otherwise. Yet, her heart was beating ridiculously fast in her chest at seeing her only daughter so very close to the brink of death and she silently chastised herself for inwardly begging the boy to not let go.
If he had, Ruth would have made sure that Jack Dawson would never see the light of day again.
Jack, awkwardly clutching Rose by whatever he can get a grip on as she flails, gets her over the railing. They fall together onto the deck in a tangled heap, spinning in such a way that Jack winds up slightly on top of her.
Rowe slides down the ladder from the docking bridge like it's a fire drill and sprints across the fantail.
ROWE: Here, what's all this?!
Rowe runs up and pulls Jack off of Rose, revealing her disheveled and sobbing on the deck. Her dress is torn, and the hem is pushing up above her knees, showing one ripped stocking. He looks at Jack, the shaggy steerage man with his jacket off, and the first class lady clearly in distress, and starts drawing conclusions. Two seamen chug across the deck to join them.
ROWE (to Jack): Here you, stand back! Don't move an inch! (to the seamen) Fetch the Master at Arms.
The door of the living room opened, revealing a much calmer-looking Sam followed by her brother.
"Where are we?", she asked as she reclaimed her seat next to Cal who seemed anything but happy to have her back at his side.
"Rose just tried to throw herself off the stern," Cat answered bluntly and her friend nodded.
"Good," Sam said coolly. "At least, this'll get some of us thinking about their values in life."
She looked directly at Ruth who met her stare with an equal intensity, refusing to lower her gaze.
CUT TO:
66 EXT. POOP DECK - NIGHT
A few minutes later. Jack is being detained by the burly MASTER AT ARMS, the closest thing to a cop on board. He is handcuffing Jack. Cal is right in front of Jack, and furious. He has obviously just rushed out here with Lovejoy and another man, and none of them have coats over their black-tie evening dress. The other man is COLONEL ARCHIBALD GRACIE, a mustachioed blowhard who still has his brandy snifter. He offers it to Rose, who is hunched over crying on a bench nearby, but she waves it away. Cal is more concerned with Jack. He grabs him by the lapels.
CAL: What made you think you could put your hands on my fiancée?! Look at me, you filth! What did you think you were doing?!
ROSE: Cal, stop! It was an accident.
CAL: An accident?!
An accident? Mr. Ismay snorted. First, the girl chooses to end her life, then decides otherwise and finally calls it an accident!
ROSE: It was... stupid really. I was leaning over and I slipped.
Rose looks at Jack, getting eye contact.
ROSE: I was leaning way over, to see the... ah... propellers. And I slipped and I would have gone overboard... and Mr. Dawson here saved me and he almost went over himself.
"Lying doesn't suit you, sweetpea," Cal said sweetly.
CAL: You wanted to see the propellers?
GRACIE (shaking his head): Women and machinery do not mix.
Sam rolled her eyes. Not only because Gracie was making use of a cliché, but also because the man clearly didn't seem to be the brightest star on the sky.
Ruth, on the other hand, found the colonel's obliviousness to the situation a blessing from above. God knew which kinds of rumors would have made the round, dealing all sorts of blows to their reputation that she would have had to remediate with delicate precision.
MASTER AT ARMS (to Jack): Was that the way of it?
Rose is begging him with her eyes not to say what really happened.
JACK: Uh huh. That was pretty much it.
He looks at Rose a moment longer. Now they have a secret together.
COLONEL GRACIE: Well! The boy's a hero then. Good for you son, well done! (to Cal) So it's all's well and back to our brandy, eh?
Jack is uncuffed. Cal gets Rose to her feet and moving.
CAL (rubbing her arms): Let's get you in. You're freezing.
Cal is leaving without a second thought for Jack.
GRACIE (low): Ah... perhaps a little something for the boy?
"At least one of ya's got some manners," Molly said.
"I believe we shall see exactly who is and is not well-mannered, shan't we, sweetpea?", Cal countered, his brown eyes resting on his fiancée who refused to look at him.
Rose knew exactly what he was playing at.
"After all, I believe I am the wounded party here," he continued. "But why don't we find out together just how low you've sunk…"
The farther the movie progressed, the darker Cal's mood got. He could already feel the anger heating up inside as he watched the gutter rat taking away what was rightfully his.
CAL: Oh, right. Mr. Lovejoy. A twenty should do it.
"This man just saved your fiancée's life, Mr. Hockley," Captain Smith said calmly but disapprovingly. "Steerage passenger or not, Mr. Dawson deserves more recognition than that."
ROSE: Is that the going rate for saving the woman you love?
CAL: Rose is displeased. Mmm... what to do?
"You know," Cal said with a frown. "I'm beginning to wonder why I even cared…"
Cal turns back to Jack. He appraises him condescendingly... a steerage ruffian, unwashed and ill-mannered.
CAL: I know. (to Jack) Perhaps you could join us for dinner tomorrow, to regale our group with your heroic tale?
What looked like an offer of genuine gratitude was clearly another way of shunning Jack in front of the other first-class passengers.
JACK (looking straight at Rose): Sure. Count me in.
Jack looked over to Molly and both shared a knowing grin. She'd helped him out a great deal when she'd lent him her son's tuxedo. He didn't know what he would have done without her and her support even throughout the dinner.
CAL: Good. Settled then.
Cal turns to go, putting a protective arm around Rose. he leans close to Gracie as they walk away.
CAL: This should be amusing.
"I hope I didn't disappoint you too much that evening, Cal," Jack said lightly.
Cal looked at him with one of his fake smiles. "Clearly, you haven't. Although I am still at a loss as to where you found that expensive suit you were wearing that evening."
Jack returned his smile with a mysterious smirk but kept the secret to himself.
"That, Mr. Hockley," he replied smugly. "Is for me to know and you to find out."
The others chuckled at this lighthearted exchange between the two men, even though it was quite clear that Hockley didn't share Jack's amusement.
JACK (as Lovejoy passes): Can I bum a cigarette?
Ruth pursed her lips at the informality of his language. The boy wasn't dense even if one could come to a very different conclusion upon hearing these words. In fact, Ruth believed him to be intelligent enough to know what he'd been dealing with when he'd so elegantly blinded all the other upper-class guests with his charms during said dinner. He'd not been able to fool her, however. Ruth had spent almost four decades learning the fine arts of playing the game of the rich and powerful; she could tell a threat when she saw one. By no means did she approve of everything Caledon Hockley did, but the man was their ticket into a secure future and Jack Dawson had nothing to offer that would change her mind.
Lovejoy smoothly draws a silver cigarette case from his jacket and snaps it open. Jack takes a cigarette, then another, popping it behind his ear for later. Lovejoy lights Jack's cigarette.
LOVEJOY: You'll want to tie those.
(Jack looks at his shoes)
Interesting that the young lady slipped so mighty all of a sudden and you still had time to take off your jacket and shoes. Mmmm?
Lovejoy's expression is bland, but the eyes are cold. He turns away to join his group.
There wasn't much said after watching the scene, much to Rose's relief. Her mother was as stoic as ever, her eyes observant and cool and Rose wondered if Ruth had actually felt something upon seeing her own daughter nearly falling off the stern. Of course, the head of the DeWitt Bukater household wore an expression that betrayed nothing of the sort. All Rose could do was guess and hope that at least a small part of her mother's heart felt a little bit of sympathy for her.
The next update won't be before Friday as I am busy with work and university. Just to let you all know. ;)
Also, Ruth is a hard one to write. She is a mother who only wants the best for her daughter (even though sometimes I'm not sure if she's not looking to get an advantage out of this herself) given the circumstances of society's rules back then and she detests Jack for his social rank. On the other hand, I have to make her realize that Jack may be a better option for Rose than Cal. Let's see if I can manage to change the old hag to the better. ;)