Yeah so, I'm having a bit of writer's block, but I think my imagination is popping enough that I can burst through it. Enjoy chapter 3 :)
- Elizabeth Elfgrove
She stepped out of the car, thanking the chauffeur. He nodded, and then drove off to park the car back in the garage. She then opened the front door, and was greeted by a few maids and manservants. She was making her way up the stairs to her bedroom to put her new clothes away when she was confronted by Cal. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. What does he want this time? She thought. "Well, you were gone for quite a while." He said, obviously saying behind those words that he demanded to know where she was. "I got my supplies, and then I bought some dresses and accessories, I thought they might look pretty. So I asked the chauffeur to pick me up at 3:00 PM. I'm sorry if you were worried, dear." She nearly vomited at her own voice calling Cal "dear."
"Well, I suppose it's alright, then. You seem happier than you were when you left?" He interrogated. "Oh, just happy about the book and my new clothes." She lied. She could never not lie to Cal. Her entire personality was a lie to him. She was lying about caring about him. She was lying about loving him. She was lying about wanting to marry him. She was lying about wanting to go everywhere he was. Ninety-nine percent of the things she said to Cal and her mother were lies. She hated lying, but she had to do it in order to not get in trouble and appear as a physcopath.
...
She put her clothes away, and hung up her new jewelry, and then put away her new hair accessories in fancy drawers with various designs. Swirls, roses, lines, polka-dots, and many others. She unpacked her supplies, putting them in her book, paper, pencils, and pens drawer. She didn't bother call a maid, all she was doing was unpacking a few items. Mother, in this case, would immediately call 5 maids. One to unpack the few items, one for tea, one to help her change, one to prepare her paper, pencils, and pens, and one to bring her a gourmet sandwich. Mother needed everything from the maids. Rose decided she would call one to help her change since high society dresses were tough ones, and she didn't want to ruin a nice, expensive dress and get yelled at again, and possibly a slap on the face would be added.
She rung the bell for one maid. The bell signal would go down to the servant quarters and they would quickly figure out which female maid would go to whoever signaled. Why must they make these dresses so hard to get on and off in the first place, then there would be nearly no need for me to call for a maid, she thought to herself. Her favorite maid, Mary, walked in. Mary was around Rose's age, 17. Rose would be 18 in 4 months, but Mary had already turned 17 this year. "Yes, Ms. Dewitt Bukater?" Mary asked. "Oh, Mary, when we're in private you can call me Rose, as I've told you." She said. Mary was her best friend. Trudy was her other friend. Mary shut the door behind her. "I know, Rose. I just don't want you to get in trouble, nor me, you never know where any other servants are. Even worse, Mr. Hockley or Mrs. Dewitt Bukater. I don't think the little Mr. has any problem with it, although." Mary said, smiling as she mentioned the little Mister. The little Mr. was Henry, Rose's dear little brother. Henry felt the same about high society as Rose did. Henry was, of course, adopted, due to Ruth's older age. Ruth had wanted another child since Rose was an odd one, Rose had never been truly accustomed to high society, she had never enjoyed it and saw it rather boring and strict.
"That's true, I suppose. Could you change me into a dress suitable for writing in? I may get ink on it." Rose asked. "Of course." Mary replied, and walked up to Rose's large closet, picking an older and cheaper dress that already had a couple of unnoticeable stains, and laid it on the back of a chair. She then unbuttoned and unzipped Rose's expensive dress, and put on the worse one, over the under-garments. The under-garments included a corset. A very tight corset that Rose rather despised. It stabbed into her stomach, never letting go, lacking her of breath, and pushed up her chest, pressing into her lungs, and was nearly impossible to get out of. She couldn't fast-walk in it, never bother run. "Thank you, Mary." Rose said. "You're welcome, Rose. Is there anything else you need?" Mary asked. "N- actually... perhaps." She said mysteriously.
She sat on a chair. "The shop I went into to get the supplies for the book was called Dawson's Canvasity. There was a young man at the front desk. Funny, really, I didn't even notice him until he accidentally jump scared me from simply talking." She said, a bit of a laugh at that. Mary listened intently, and when she saw Rose laugh, she nearly started crying, Rose never laughed. Ever. It really was a sight to see. "He was a survivor of the Titanic too, and he was so kind. I could tell he had lost, but he was still so genuine and happy. He let me go through his sketchbook, and Mary, his drawings are so full of life, so beautiful and eye-catching." Rose said, a smile on her face. "Seems like he really caught your eye..." Mary whispered with a bit of a laugh in her voice. "Why, Mary!" Rose said, her cheeks flushed. Mary started laughing. "You really do need to be careful, though. You're engaged. Maybe just be friends with him, if Mr. Hockley even allows it at that." Mary warned. "Oh, but Mary. He was so... so..." Rose stuttered. "Handsome?" Mary offered. "No, well yes, I mean-" She covered her face, smiling at her own embarrassment. "No, he was so true."
...
The next few days were a blur. Writing horrid things to remember, writing about how there were screams, about being separated, about how the Chief Chef pulled her out of the water. About how she barely caught a lifeboat. Oh, it was so sickening. And the fact that Jack had seen and gone through that too. She wondered if he had been in the water or caught the men's lifeboat. She also wondered if she had seen him and just didn't remember. She just wanted to see Jack again, his happiness was contagious. She hoped that maybe she could ask him to illustrate the book. She was rather horrible at writing, so she had thrown away many pieces of paper. She needed help. But she couldn't bear to be with Cal all that time, and besides, he was busy. And she couldn't bear to be with her mother all that time, and she would complain. But she didn't know Jack good enough. And Mary wasn't on the Titanic. She had already been in New York on a different ship to get their suites ready and other special luggage. Gosh, why am I thinking about him so much? She thought to herself. The way he talks, the way he walks, his drawings... and, admit it Rose, you think he may be handsome, her consciousness replied. She laughed at herself, finding herself very vulnerable and stupid at the moment.
...
The night before she would go to Dawson's Canvasity again, she could hardly sleep. She wanted to see more of his drawings, to get to know him better, she needed an illustrator and she needed help. But somewhere in herself, she knew it was more than that. It was definitely more than that.
Yeah this chapter kinda sucked, I started it late last night and then continued it early this morning and finished it late this morning. I'm so tired right now, so this chapter is ngl pretty cringy but ignore that :)
- Elizabeth Elfgrove