Chapter 5

The sunlight brilliantly poured into the private promenade of the Dewitt Bukater and Hockley suite. Rose and Cal sat silently at a table, eating their breakfast without exchanging a single word. He looked at her perplexedly, questioning her attitude and aloofness.

"I had hoped you'd come to me last night," he finally spoke.

Rose took a small sip of her tea, then replied, "I was tired." It was no lie. Her deep thinking had no doubt exhausted her.

"Do I not please you, Rose?" he asked her, wondering why she seemed to remain so distant lately.

Coolly, Rose set her teacup on the table. "In what manner do you mean?" she asked rhetorically. Cal seemed confused. "I only ask because there are certain fields in which you lack satisfaction." She was, of course, insinuating that their sex life was anything but filling.

Cal clearly understood what she was trying to imply. He glared at her with fire in his eyes. His temper was boiling. Rose nervously awaited his reaction. He stood. Then, with all this anger, he knocked the breakfast table over. Without a word, he angrily stormed off the deck.

A surge of triumph rose inside her as she watched Cal storm away. She had won, and it was as easy as counting to three. Happily, she went back to her breakfast, not caring if any consequences would arise later that day.

The pain of a corset was the last thing on Rose's mind as Trudy tightly laced hers up. She was smiling to herself, proud that she had spoken her mind to Cal. It was the first major time she had ever dared to do it. Her morning couldn't be any better.

Rose heard as the door swung open and her mother ordered Trudy to get tea. Trudy walked away while Ruth walked over to her daughter to finish the maid's job.

"You are being foolish, Rose," was the first thing Ruth said. Her voice sounded angry. "You are never to speak in such a way again." Obviously, she had heard about the situation at breakfast.

Rolling her eyes, Rose's reply was, "Oh, stop it, Mother. You'll give yourself a nosebleed."

Ruth whipped her daughter around so she would be facing her. "I mean it, Rose. You know our situation is perilous. Your father left us nothing but a legacy of bad debts hidden by a good name. That name is the only card we have to play."

Daughter and mother stared at one another without speaking. Rose turned back around and Ruth went back to lacing. "Hockley is a fine match. He is the only thing that will insure our survival."

Rose's head hung low. "How can you put this on my shoulders? There are other ways."

"What do you expect we do, Rose?" Ruth asked. Rose said nothing. "Do you want to see me working as a seamstress? Do you want to see our fine things sold at an auction, our memories scattered to the winds?"

Ruth was overwhelmed with emotion. She turned away and Rose leaned against her bed post. She couldn't believe all this was happening. Here she was, seventeen-years-old, and expected to make so many serious decisions just to ensure they didn't end up in a gutter somewhere. It was ridiculous, and as much as Rose hated to admit it her mother was right. They wouldn't be able survive if they had to file bankruptcy.

After the Sunday service in the dining saloon concluded, Rose, Ruth, and Cal met Mr. Andrews to begin their private tour of the Titanic. He took them to special parts of the ship, showing them the architecture or giving them history or whatever. Rose stayed alongside Mr. Andrews while Cal trailed behind with Ruth. Cal remained unusually quiet.

Inside the gymnasium, Cal got down onto a stationary rowing machine and worked the oars. Rose ignored him, knowing he was just trying to show off. He did not flatter her one bit. Instead, she tried to imagine Mr. Andrews working the machine with his big, strong arms.

Andrews announced that the next stop would be the bridge, and they went. There, they overheard Junior Wireless Operator Harold Bride tell the captain that they had received warnings of ice from another ship.

"Not to worry, it's quite normal for this time of year. In fact, we're speeding up. I've just ordered the last boilers lit," Captain Smith informed.

With a small scowl, Andrews motioned the group to the door. They moved back onto the boat deck. Rose had been thinking ever since she had overhead Bride. She looked at the lifeboats, then said, "Mr. Andrews, I did the sum in my head, and with the number of lifeboats times the capacity you mentioned...forgive me, but it seems that there are not enough for everyone aboard."

"About half, actually," Andrews replied. He smiled, "Rose, you miss nothing, do you? In fact, I put in these new type davits, which can take an extra row of boats here. But it was thought, by some, that the deck would look too cluttered. So I was over-ruled."

"Waste of deck space as it is," Cal cut in. "This is an unsinkable ship."

"Sleep soundly, young Rose. I have built you a good ship, strong and true. She's all the lifeboat you need," Andrews assured. "This ship is as perfect as human brains can make her."

Rose still seemed unsure. Accidents always seemed to happen. Yet Mr. Andrews was an honest man, and if he believed Titanic was safe, then she believed it too. She smiled, and they carried on with the remainder of their tour.

That evening, Rose was very quiet at dinner again. She stared off into space, thinking on her mother's words. Cal was the perfect match for one, and only one reason: money. As much as she wanted to, breaking their engagement was not an option.

However, something happened that made Rose want to change her thinking again. She looked over at a table near to theirs. A family consisting of a mother, father, and young daughter was sitting and eating their dinner. The girl was no older than five, but the mother was being very critical of her posture. She kept correcting her on everything, from the way she sat to the way she should hold her cup.

Memories from the past flashed in Rose's mind. She remembered her days as a young child and how hard she had tried to please her mother, which was near to impossible. She remembered the pain of trying to fit into her first corset. Becoming an Edwardian geisha was nothing but pure torture.

I can't keep doing this, Rose thought to herself. Her mother was right about the money, but she realized that she didn't have to marry Cal just to survive. There were other options. There were other people out there to fall in love with.

"Rose? Is something troubling you?"

Rose snapped back into reality, then looked at Mr. Andrews. "No. No, I'm fine, thank you."

Andrews, who was writing in his notebook like always, asked, "Did you enjoy the tour today?"

"Oh, yes. It was lovely," Rose replied. "I wish it didn't have to end. The ship truly is beautiful."

"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it," Mr. Andrews said as he scribbled in his book. After he said this, the men stood up and headed off for their cigars and brandies.

Rose headed off for space again, watching the same little girl as before. She was sitting perfectly straight, finishing her desert like every well-off Edwardian lady was supposed too. It was so depressing, seeing life wasted at such a young age. It was as though the parents of the Edwardian age were brainwashing their children.

Suddenly, Rose felt a slight prod. She looked over at Mr. Andrews, who motioned toward his notebook, which he had slid close to Rose. She looked down at it, and saw amid the notes, a small message. She read to herself: Meet me at the clock in five minutes.

The message confused Rose. She looked up at Mr. Andrews, who only smiled as he grabbed his book. He announced to those who were left at the table, "I'm afraid I have to go. Thank you all for a lovely time." He stood and walked away.

Lost and confused, Rose stayed behind. Meet me at the clock in five minutes? Whatever could he have in mind? She looked down at the table, debating whether she should go meet him.