Jack had been submitted to come with them, though he didn't really know why. Did Lettice want to prove to herself that he wasn't a problem after all? Did she want to test Ella on her feelings and behaviour?

Even if the comparison was probably too harsh, but Jack still felt like a slave, who was being sold at a market, being explored and looked at the most humiliating way.

Of course he wouldn't say no to Mr. Lindsay's offer about joining them for dinner.

He isn't Hockley.

But still…

Ella was sitting on pins, daring to eat anything, though she was really hungry. But a lady would never eat much. Mr. Lindsay meanwhile smiled at her, trying to make up a conversation with her.

"Have you ever been to Boston, Miss Mansfield?"

What could a girl barely seventeen have in common with an old man? Mr. Lindsay surely wasn't old in the true sense of the word, but in comparison with Ella he seemed like it.

Ella shook her head. Clearly she was nervous about saying something false, something embarrassing.

Jack too turned his head to Mr. Lindsay. Wouldn't it be better for the two of them to be left alone now, to actually spend some time together before they would commit themselves to each other?

But Jack that's not how society works, it would be quite improper.

That's what Rose would've said and Jack once again wanted to laugh over this whole stupid thing, but instead only managed to make a miserable sound. Neither one at the table seemed to care much. In fact Jack was happy that noticeable no one did.

"That's too bad, Miss."

Jack wondered how long they would continue this chitchat, knowing from the experience with Rose and Hockley most likely forever.

Now he felt sorry for Ella.

Couldn't her aunt see that the two of them didn't share anything?

"You know we've some really nice museums here and you might've noticed the harbour as well," he started hoping somehow that he could awaken her interest.

Lettice nudged Ella on her knee, urging her to take part in the tête-à-tête.

Jack too was aware of Lettice's encouragement. Ruth Dewitt Bukater came to his mind again. She had known how Rose thought about Cal, hadn't she? She must have. And still…she had wanted to sell her daughter to the highest bidder.

Ella almost dropped her glass.

"The harbour yes…," Ella said nervously folding her hands under the table.

What should she talk about with this man, she barely knew and who was old enough to be her father? Her aunt sitting there, waiting for her to say something and not only something, but an interesting story that would make her new fiancé fall for her…it all made her even more edgy.

"Did you know that in fact the American Revolution…our freedom fight against England started there?" he added.

"I've heard about it in school," Ella answered him not being really interested.

She had learned in school that it wasn't proper for a lady to talk about politics.

"Well, Miss Mansfield…"

There was another nudge from Lettice, which Ella immediately understood.

"You may call me Isabella."

Lettice gave her a pleasant smile.

Her niece was really doing her best, despite the tense situation and the fact that she had been dragged into that relationship. Lettice's insurance however, just added to her nerviness.

"What a nice and beautiful name. Then of course you've to call me Roger, Miss Isabella," he said making a gesture with his hand. "Would you like another glass of wine, Miss Isabella?"

Ella looked at her aunt, who nodded in approval, but Roger hadn't even awaited an answer.

Ella wondered somehow why they weren't drinking bear. Wasn't his family involved in a brewing business? But she didn't dare ask or better say she didn't care.

"Thank you," she smiled that fake smile Rose had always given Cal and her mother.

Oh god, Rose.

In so many ways Ella reminded him of his Rose. If only he had told her how much he loved her, when he had the chance to.

Stop being so silly Jack. It would've never worked out between you two.

Indeed playing around on a ship and really living together…they were worlds apart.

"Are you interested in art, Miss Isabella?"

Ella didn't look like she was fascinated, but Jack was. Maybe the otherwise boring Mr. Lindsay could keep his mind away from Rose?

While Ella seemingly noticeable to Jack only pretended to be, he indeed couldn't wait to hear his next sentence.

"What a strange coincidence, Miss Isabella…quite extraordinary…"

Ella looked at him bewildered, raising her eyebrows.

"I mean your name…it has such a nice ring to it and by chance there happens to be a museum in our lovely Boston. It's founded by another Lady Isabella and everyone with this name gets free entrance…," he spoke as if speaking of something beyond earth, at least his whole attitude was quite…odd. He took a sip of his wine-glass, as if wanting for everyone to listen to him.

Jack folded his hands under the table, silently thinking of Fabrizio, Rose, the diamond, the Titanic and her horrid eyes…Mr. Lindsay was such an idiot.

Couldn't he see that this girl had no interest in him?

Jack's interest in this museum had died down, as soon as it had come up. Mr. Lindsay had quite a talent to bore interest. Maybe it was a great place to see, but surely not with someone like him.

And Lettice? She was her aunt. She must know that the two of them don't fit together.

Ella smiled again, wishing she would be able to stand up and just…go out somewhere and never come back.

But the truth was she had nowhere to go. She had to stay here, marry the one chosen by her and life the same boring, monotonous life her mother, grandmother and every other woman in her family, her society had lived. Not one of them ever spoke about the real emotional state; only just the others had never accepted it.

'Your mother never…'

'Her sister had trouble with…'

Her smile grew brighter despite the awkwardness she was feeling and in between she understood very well that every one of them had trouble with this predestined fate. They just accepted it, saying that only the others…

The heat of suddenly bothering her and her cheeks must've reddened, because Lettice looked at her with that taunting look of hers.

'You're not going to see that boy again.'

Jack could very well picture Lettice's voice with Ruth's face and vice versa, because they were all just the same.

And the worst thing is I can't even be mad at either one of them, because I know that their mother's weren't any different and in fact they must've felt the same emptiness Rose had been feeling and Ella…- Jack somehow bitterly, somehow gladly thought, because he had found a reason for…at least for now.

"A museum?" Ella's voice interrupted the silence.

Why didn't she just stand up and go? Walk out the door and never come back?

And leave your aunt alone, your family, who has cared for you and…what an ungrateful child you're.

Roger took the opportunity to place his hand over hers, causing Ella to grimace inwardly.

"It's showing art, paintings, the founder's name it Isabella Stewart Gardner…nowadays she's an old Lady, but still quite sophisticated…knows what she's doing…," his voice trailed off once more.

Ella didn't dare to remove her hand, regardless of her discomfort. She shot a quick glance at Jack, who pretended to look away, to not show any interest.

Not that he had any…not concerning the romantically side of this aspect, but also not wanting to get involved into this particular situation once again.

Yes, really one fiancé, horrible and rich and one girl, from high society, needed to be saved, was certainly enough for a lifetime, especially if you've fallen in love with this girl and despite your efforts to protect her, she still had to die.

But he pitied Ella and wished he could do something for her.

"I would love to go there tomorrow to see the museum and see Boston. You've to show me everything," her voice was sick with aspiration, but Jack could tell that she was lying.

Is this really me speaking?

Lettice watched her pleased by herself and her perfect education. Ella's parents had died very young and she had vowed to her mother, her sister to raise her. Obviously she had done well.

Finally he released her hand and Ella took no time in withdrawing hers.

She didn't hear the voice of her aunt, of Mr. Lindsay…no Roger…making up an appointment time.

Jack instead felt her eyes on him again, wanting to ask him something.

Why are you, Mr. Dawson, despite your open-mindedness, such a mystery?

Jack knew what she wanted to ask him, but as she didn't speak out aloud, he didn't feel the need to answer it.

'You see people, Jack.'

But it still didn't help.

Neither you or Fabrizio. So what's this skill even worth?

Jack forced a smile noticing Ella's sad expression. He wouldn't fall in love with her, but at least he could make her life a little bit happier.