THAT SAME EVENING AFTER Katherine had dinner with her mother and the Browns, the young woman was invited to join Amelia, Mrs. Brown, and a few other first class passengers for tea. She politely declined, which her mother didn't mind at all, encouraging her daughter to explore the ship as she pleased. It did, however, earn her a few disapproving looks from a few of the other women.
Oh, but Katherine didn't care. After all, it was clear that the aristocratic passengers aboard Titanic did little to nothing to respect her or her mother. If it weren't for the status of their companions, she was sure that the Davenports would be treated no better than a couple of second class passengers. Although they'd never tell the two women directly, they saw the Davenport name as nothing more than new money, and unlike Amelia, who was willing to put on a facade in an attempt to please the judgmental Edwardian elites, Katherine didn't take well to this. In the five or so years since Arthur Davenport's iron company became the largest in the Southern United States, thus allowing the family to take their place amongst the upper class, the young woman had failed to change herself to mimic the decorum of a typical Edwardian woman.
While her mother attempted to befriend some of the ladies aboard the ship, Katherine had no intention of doing so. She believed that if someone didn't like her for who she truly was, then that person simply wasn't worth her time.
After the dinner service was over, Katherine dismissed herself from the table with a kiss on her mother's cheek. Eager to explore the ship that would carry her across the Atlantic over the following week, she left the first class dining saloon with a bounce in her step.
The sun having set nearly an hour beforehand, the temperature had dropped drastically since she had last been outside. She was dressed in a burgundy gown, the sleeves going down to just above her elbows. The remaining length of her arms were covered in a pain of pristine white gloves. The thin material did little to nothing to shield her from the cold, however, and she wrapped her arms around her small frame as she began to wander down the deck.
Once Katherine was sure that she was far enough away from any judgmental eyes of first class passengers, she reached up and released her hair from its confines of a suffocating updo. She let out a sigh as she felt the ocean breeze blow through the length of her hair, and despite the corset that still hugged her waist tightly, she felt as if she could finally breathe.
During the free time that the young woman had earlier that afternoon, she'd made her way towards the bow of the ship, stopping only when she came across a sign that warned any passengers from continuing any further. Then, she'd walked along the A-Deck promenade. Katherine had explored nearly every inch of the decks assigned to first class, so she decided that she'd now make her way towards the stern. Although the first class decks stopped far before the back of the ship, she had no intention of stopping there. Most first class passengers refused to wander anywhere near the decks that the lower class were allowed on, but Katherine saw no issue with mingling with those less fortunate than her. After all, she'd grown up with friends who were not much better off than those in steerage!
The young woman received startled looks from a few passengers lingering near the gate that separated the first and second class promenades, but she ignored them. She found it baffling that some people treated those in lower class as if they were a completely different species, and now they were watching Katherine as if simply traveling down to the other decks would cause her to catch some infectious disease. She rolled her eyes at the thought, then continued on her way to the stern.
The night sky above was clear. The moon, shaped like a crescent, illuminated the otherwise dark sea beneath it. Stars scattered across the sky and reflected upon the water's surface. Katherine found it difficult to tell where the sky ended and the water began, growing a bit disoriented as she stared out over the sea. She leaned her arms against the port side railing and took a moment to allow the cool breeze to blow through her loosened hair.
Before her initial trip across the Atlantic several weeks prior, it'd been a long time since the young woman had been out on the water. Prior to investing in his iron business, Arthur Davenport had worked on a steamboat on the Tennessee River; growing up, Katherine often spent her weekends on the boat alongside her father, who'd teach her old sailor tunes and folk songs to keep her young mind entertained. Being on the water once more brought those memories rushing back to her, along with the lyrics to the songs she'd learned as a child. Ignoring the curious looks shot her way by some nearby steerage passengers, she began to quietly sing one of the tunes beneath her breath.
It wasn't long until another voice spoke from behind her, one that was laced with an accent unfamiliar to her but that she recognized from an encounter earlier that day. "It's been quite a while since I've heard that tune," he spoke.
Katherine immediately stopped singing and turned around to face the newcomer, slightly embarrassed. She recognized the officer as soon as her eyes landed on him, and she found herself feeling pleasantly surprised to see him again. It seemed as though he'd already recognized her, too, for he greeted her with a polite smile and a tip of his hat.
"Good to see you again, Miss Davenport."
Katherine was shocked that he remembered her name. After all, she was just a passenger, and she was certain that he'd met with plenty of others since their earlier encounter. She'd expected to be just another face in passing, a name shoved in the back of his mind that would soon be forgotten.
"And you, as well, Mr. Lowe," she responded to him, grinning. There was a look in his dark eyes as he studied her closely, one that, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't quite decipher.
"Where did you learn that song?" he inquired. "Forgive me, but it's not often that passengers such as yourself are familiar with sailor tunes."
"My father taught it to me when I was young. He used to sing it to me whenever we would go out on the water," she explained to him.
"Was he a sailor?" Mr. Lowe guessed, evidently intrigued. Though his curiosity only confused Katherine; she wasn't used to people asking such questions. After spending the past several years shoved deep in the middle of elite Edwardian society, she had grown used to boring, shallow conversations. The majority of her interactions with men consisted of them boasting about their own achievements rather than asking about her. Because of this, she found herself more than willing to answer the officer's questions.
"He worked on a steamboat on the Tennessee River– that was before he began his iron business."
Mr. Lowe nodded. He stood beside her now, his arms resting on the railing just as hers had been doing only minutes before. "You should see the views of the sunset from here," he mumbled, and for a moment she was certain he was talking to himself rather than her. Then, he glanced towards her and added: "No offense, but I do believe that the first class passengers are missing out– the stern always has the most beautiful view."
"I have to agree. I didn't come all the way down here for nothing, Mr. Lowe," Katherine said. He chuckled softly in response.
"Right. I certainly didn't expect to find a first class passenger hanging 'round steerage."
"Oh, don't tell me you're disappointed," she teased, surprising herself by her boldness around a man she barely knew. Normally, she'd do everything in her power to cut any conversation with a man short, and here she was enjoying her talk with this officer! Why did she find it so easy to talk to him?
"Not at all. If I'm being honest, I was hoping to run into you again on this voyage," Mr. Lowe admitted.
This surprised Katherine. "Really?" she asked.
"Well, yes," he said with a shrug. "It isn't often I meet anyone willing to stand up to rude first class passengers."
Katherine laughed lightly. "And it isn't often that an officer runs into me because he's sprinting through the halls! That kind of thing leaves an impression," she chided playfully.
"I apologize for that again," he said whilst turning an alarmed gaze onto her. She found herself laughing again, waving her hands dismissively. Did this officer always get so flustered so easily?
"I never said it was a bad impression!"
His lips curled into a grin, though he said nothing. His gaze lingered on her for several more moments, and Katherine was beginning to question whether or not she had something on her face that caused him to stare. Then, however, he cleared his throat and straightened his posture. His casual tone was gone, replaced with a more formal one as he said: "I must return to my quarters now– and you should probably return to your part of the ship, as well, Miss Davenport. Technically, you are not supposed to be here."
Katherine's lips formed into an o-shape, for she hadn't thought about the possibility of first class passengers not being allowed to wander away from their parts of the ship, just like those in the lower classes. She silently scolded herself for believing that she was more entitled than the other passengers! She followed closely after Mr. Lowe as he began to lead her back in the direction of the first class promenade.
"I'm not in trouble, am I, officer?" she asked him. She'd meant it as a joke, smirking playfully in his direction as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.
"What are you talking about? I never even saw you here," he said with a wink. She grinned.
As she followed the officer up the stairwell that led to the second class promenade deck, Katherine couldn't help but notice the countless stares she was receiving from nearby passengers. She let out a breathy laugh as she glanced down at her attire, obviously out of place among the more-modestly dressed passengers and Mr. Lowe's uniform. "I suppose I do stick out like a sore thumb, hm? I'm receiving quite a lot of stares!"
Mr. Lowe looked over at her once more. His eyes flickered down to her burgundy gown, then back up to her face, where they lingered for several moments. "Yes, I'm sure that is the reason why they're staring," he mumbled. Katherine glanced towards him, confused by his response, though before she had a chance to question him on it, he was already tipping his hat in farewell. "This is where I leave you, Miss Davenport. I trust that you will return to your decks promptly before you get into any trouble."
His tone was teasing, which caused her to roll her eyes good-humoredly and laugh. "You have my word, officer," she promised. She waved goodbye, and the pair went their separate ways.
Harold gripped his hat in one hand and tugged at his dark hair with the other. Despite the frigid temperature, a thin layer of perspiration had formed on his forehead, and he wiped it away with a quiet groan. Oh, what was he thinking? For years, he'd been a man of discipline– reserved and aloof. He had no idea what it was about Miss Davenport that nearly made all the walls he'd managed to build up over the years come crumbling down after just a short conversation, but it almost frightened him.
His fellow sailors had gawked at passengers before, and Harold had joined them (he was a man, after all) but to feel so vulnerable around a beautiful woman so soon after meeting her? It simply never happened to him! Never before had he felt so willing to open up to someone. There was a reason why he'd remained unmarried for so long, causing both his family and several fellow sailors to question why he was twenty-nine and yet to take a wife. He'd been loyal to nothing but the sea for over half his life!
Normally, he'd never allow himself to feel such a way. Yet, for a reason unbeknownst to him, he had no choice with Katherine Davenport. He knew little to nothing about her– but what he did know drew him to her like a moth to a flame. He'd never met a woman who was so unafraid to speak her mind; usually a trait that would turn a man away from a woman, it was something that Harold couldn't help but find frustratingly attractive.
What the hell am I thinking like this for? He scolded himself, returning his hat to his head just as he reached the bridge once more. He forced the woman to the back of his mind momentarily and approached the two officers who were currently on watch to give them his report. After doing so, he wished Officers Boxhall and Moody a goodnight, then dismissed himself to his quarters in hopes of getting some rest before his next watch.
Though for Harold, rest didn't come easily. Despite the exhaustion that plagued his body, he felt restless, unable to get comfortable in his small bed. It wasn't long after he laid down that his mind wandered to thoughts of Miss Davenport once more. No matter how many times he attempted to think of anything but, he found himself hoping to see her again soon.
Oh, there was certainly something wrong with him, he was sure of it!