Tuesday, May 4th, 1915
Adrien and Chloé were having Mariage Frères tea and crumpets for breakfast in B-54, the dining room of the port side regal suite. The morning was bright and sunny compared to the abysmal weather of two days in a row. Gwen and Anna waited in their cabins, dressing themselves for the day with their mother's help. The silent tension was palpable with Nino pouring the milk into Adrien's glass. At last, Adrien spoke.
"Chloé, can we at least talk about something else?"
But Chloé had her eyes closed, arms crossed and nose so high above her neck, she could have breathed in a whiff of the ceiling. Opening her right eye, then the next, finally facing her head towards Adrien, her response was low.
"I don't want you to see her again, Adrien, do you understand me?"
Adrien's face was something she had not seen before, one with courage and strength against those who denied him of the life he truly wanted.
"Chloé, as much as I understand why, I can go wherever I like aboard this ship. I am not a soldier from one of your father's squadrons in the French Army that you can command...I am your fiancée."
He rose his voice at the last word, but Chloé just laughed and flipped the table over like the cheeky brat she truly was.
"You are my fiancée," she said her voice turning from sweet to sour as she spoke. "Also known as my husband in practice."
Adrien cringed at her words. The flaxen haired maiden of fury was glowering over him and gripping the sides of his chair. He was trapped between her arms.
"As the law requires," Chloé went on, "You have to honor me the way a husband is required to honor a wife because I will not be made a fool of. Do you understand?"
Adrien nodded, hoping that it would quell her emotions, but it did not. She was red in the face and was continuing to glower over him until it looked like his chair was about to fall over.
"Now I don't care where you go or what you do for the rest of this voyage, but you stay away from those ruffians down below...and Miss Cheng as well."
Heartbroken, Adrien shrank in his chair. Chloé went off to get dressed, turning around at the same time she saw Nino standing partway through the doorway with an odd face.
"Oh, and Nino...clean up the mess."
She stalked past the houseboy, leaving for the bedroom. Nino observed the damage and asked.
"What happened here?"
Adrien was not willing to expose the truth, he just sprouted fresh tears as Nino helped him up.
"We had an accident. Sorry Nino."
In the bedroom of the port suite, after Albert and Gladys were finished dressing, Gabriel helped Adrien with his black tie, his white shirt being the only light color of his dark blue Serge suit. The tightness of the suit did not inhibit Adrien's fury as his father scolded him.
"Chloe told me what had happened, and for that, you are not to see that girl again."
"But Father, she's so nice and...talented...not to mention-"
Before he could mention her beauty, Gabriel tightened the tie, nearly choking his son intentionally.
"And she is Chinese. The situation of the world is precarious, you know the Chinese are just about as neutral as we are."
Adrien rolled his eyes at this. He had heard this from the Fourth of August, around the same time the United Kingdom declared war on Germany.
"Of course I know that our countries are neutral. The same goes for Argentina and Switzerland above others."
Upon the other thought, he added.
"But what better way to marry somebody who actually understands you and whose native country is not at war like all others in Europe?"
"I do not care," Gabriel went from draconian to slightly emotional. "When your mother died, the company spared no expense on her funeral. In addition, she was a gambler who left nothing but a legacy of debts hidden under the pseudonym 'Peacock' and that name is the only card we have to play."
Adrien slumped his shoulders. The thought of his mother being a gambler was becoming a trait, except he was becoming rebellious. It was something that his father did not want him to be, let alone ending up in a similar situation like her illness. The boy tried to reason with his father again.
"Maybe she had her reasons."
"I never understood her," Gabriel shook his head before resuming his reasons. "It is a fine match with Chloé. Her country may be at war, but the French have enough money to ensure our survival, and our support of the war."
The ever pacifistic Adrien could not accept the task of being married to a noble girl who was spoiled rotten and came from a country at war with the Central Powers while his remained neutral. If he could find a way to love Marinette despite her limited means, he would not have the urge to go against everything his father taught him, factual or not.
He clenched his fists as he found the ounce of valor in his heart, overcoming the hurt and loss of reality staring at him in the form of his father.
"How can you put this on my shoulders? Marinette has opened my eyes to a world beyond all of this, and all you ever think about is money? What about my needs? What if I do not want to marry Chloé in the future?"
"Not marry her? Son, what has come over you? You are acting selfish."
"Me? Selfish?" Adrien blew a sharp breath from his nostrils before continuing with his upper class version of a rant. "There is more to life than money, and if you are so interested in it, why don't you hire Marinette as a designer for the company?"
But this only infuriated Gabriel, whose employers were purely non-Asians under his belief that Europeans and fellow Americans had a better taste in fashion.
"I will not have anyone associate my company with that...chink! It would ruin our prospects even further to the Gabriel brand and no matter how talented she is at being an artist or a designer, a destitute chink is what she is and that is what she will always be."
Feeling his ears bleed at this, Adrien cringed even further when Gabriel directed his right index finger at his face.
"Now read my lips: you are not to see that chink ever again!"
Chink, the derogatory slur used by some people to other persons who were born of Chinese nationality. And speaking of a certain Chinese girl, Marinette arrived looking less dapper than she was before in front of the doors to the first class dining saloon, only to be stopped by the chief steward, John Frederick Valentine Jones. He stepped in front of the girl, apparently not recognizing her from the previous night.
"Excuse me miss, but this is the first class dining saloon. If you are looking for the third class dining room, it is forward close to the bow."
"I was here last night, don't you remember me?"
"No, miss I am afraid I do not. Good day, madam."
Sabrina, who had been sitting nearby, found a better way to sort the matter out.
"She'll tell you," Marinette said to the chief steward as Sabrina closed the door behind her.
"Mr. Agreste and Miss Bourgeois have been kind enough to accept your assistance with the Master Agreste, but I am afraid your presence will not be needed anymore."
Marinette groaned, realizing her mistake. But she was not about to give up just yet.
"Can I please speak to Adrien for just one quick second?"
"I also like to remind you that you hold a third class ticket," Sabrina added with reason. "So I suggest you get back to where you belong and stay there with your own kind."
Marinette felt like an alien (or at least that was how Sabrina was looking at her now). At the nodding of Chief Steward Jones' insistence, she turned on her heels and walked sadly away...but she knew there was more than one way of getting up to first class.
Captain Turner began his Tuesday by offering the Agreste-Allan party a formal tour of the bridge, the chart room and the engine room. Second Officer Percy Hefford marked the ship's distance from Liverpool on the map and calculated that they would reach the English Channel three days from today at approximately 11:00 AM. His significant attention to the map was disrupted by the tour, looking over his right shoulder to see Turner offering the wheel to Gabriel Agreste.
"Would you like to try your hand at the wheel, sir?"
"I shouldn't think so," Gabriel frowned. "It is your position, not mine."
Before leaving, Adrien, daring himself not to touch the starboard engine telegraph, made himself look feisty in front of Quartermaster Hugh Johnson as his right index finger touched it anyway.
A race was going on in third class with Frank Hook taking the lead. It gave Marinette an opportunity to leave, seeing how distracted the stewards were. Alya and Alix followed her to the stern, the former trying to talk Marinette out of it.
"He's god amongst mortal boys his own age and there's no denying it. But he's in another world, Marinette. Forget him. He's closed the door."
"Actually," Marinette stopped and turned to face her counterclockwise. "It was his father and fiancée who shut the door, not him."
Reluctant, Alya sighed and Alix pushed Marinette up to the B-Deck promenade, crouching down as she did. Marinette scrambled nimbly over the railing, almost hearing the sorry voices of her friends down below.
"That girl is not being logical I tell you."
"Love has no logic."
She found William Hodges and his wife Sarah watching their two little boys, William Jr. and Dean, playing backgammon. Sarah Hodges' shawl and hat were lying on a steamer chair nearby. Marinette, thinking that the Chief Steward would recognize her, calmly picked up the shawl and hat and slipped them on, pushing her hair back as she walked further down the deck. At a distance, she could pass for a lady's maid. She seemed doubtless as to how Mrs. Hodges would react to the theft of these two items.
On the boat deck, Adrien counted the lifeboats that came his way, going slower as he counted the sum in his head as well as the capacity mentioned by Captain Turner. He was fortunate enough to run into Marinette by Lifeboat 5, but he did not recognize her at first when she pulled him into the A-Deck cabins, right outside A-31. They were completely alone, not knowing if any of the occupants would be listening.
"Marinette, this is impossible. I can't see you."
Marinette pulled him back before he reached the door.
"I need to talk to you...about us."
Adrien tried to resume his normal self, looking depressed but confident beneath that handsome façade.
"About ourselves? Marinette...Father and Chloé don't want me to see you anymore. He called you a...chink."
Adrien squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see Marinette's reaction of anger to the offensive name. But, surprisingly, she was calm with a concerned face.
"Adrien...that's what they're all like. But you're much better than them. In fact, you are the most amazing and astounding young man I have ever known."
Uninterested, Adrien turned to leave through the door, but again Marinette held him back, less forcefully this time.
"I just wanted to let you know that I am not a retard, I have ten American dollars to my name, I have nothing to offer you but words and I know how the world works."
"If you are trying to sympathize with me, Marinette, you are wasting your time. I am fine."
But Marinette saw through the pain in his eyes. She pointed her left index finger outside to represent the people of Adrien's world.
"They've got you trapped, Adrien and if you don't break free you're gonna die. Why else would you try to jump off the ship if you hated that life so much?"
"It doesn't matter anymore. Just let me go."
Marinette relaxed herself, unsure if Adrien was making the right decision.
"You're right...only you can do that."
Adrien smiled solemnly and went back outside. Marinette, concerned for his future, left the corridor as well, but not before leaving the hat on a bench, hoping that Mrs. Hodges would find it and reclaim it.
In the lounge, one of the most elegant rooms on the ship, Adrien sat glumly at a four chair table with his father and two Bostonians, Charles Lauriat, the bookseller, and Lothrop Withington, genealogist from Newburyport. Both men agreed that Lusitania was a belligerent ship, unlikely of being attacked. Adrien darted his eyes at them, then left, then right, until the feeling of boredom was coming back to him for the second time.
"Did you hear about the ship's nautical run?" Lauriat asked Gabriel. "We have only logged about four hundred and eighty four miles in the last twenty four hours."
"At least the ship's printers are trying to keep us entertained with their stories," Gabriel sipped his herbal tea with pressed lips. "But as I was saying about the groomsmen's tuxedos, Adrien decided he wanted green if the wedding was to be in held in the spring, but I preferred the usual black with patches bearing the French and American flags on their coats for a more patriotic approach."
As Gabriel went on with other details of the wedding, like the questioning as to whether or not make the cake angel's food or devil's food, Adrien looked over at a table where Amy Pearl and her five year old son Stuart were having cookies. Mrs. Pearl corrected her son's posture and finally helped him to place a napkin on his lap the right way. It reminded Adrien of himself the month after his mother died, remembering his father's heart turning so cold, that he spent the next two weeks under a relentless conditioning of etiquette in Gabriel's own way snapping his son out of mourning. Adrien knew that while the young Stuart still had his mother, he himself knew that this was not the life he wanted.
His head went back to his father's friends and he asked them.
"How is business in China?"
"Well, I hear President Shikai is planning to bring monarchy back to China," replied Withington. "But I believe that will not be for some time until he has made the right transactions with the government."
Adrien's fears of his father getting upset over the implication of Marinette remained unsummoned by Lauriat bringing up a new topic.
"I wonder if the Duchess of Marlborough has any relatives fighting in or supporting the war."
"You should tell Mr. Vanderbilt about it," Gabriel joined in. "He is her first cousin after all."
Finding a clever way out of his father's company without any notification of absence, Adrien asked again.
"What time is it?"
"Half past six," Withington checked his watch.
"I'd better rest up for tomorrow," Adrien said as he stood up.
"So soon?" his father asked suspiciously. "What about dinner?"
"I will have it in the cabin," Adrien replied, and he left for the door without so much as a "good evening" to his father's friends.
The sky was of purple and gold when Adrien arrived at the bow, she could see Marinette, lost in her thoughts of looking down into the water.
"Hello, Marinette."
His voice reached her ears, turning her head over her left shoulder.
"I thought about what you said and I have decided that we should be together when the time is right."
Marinette smiled, believing that the time would be now, but Adrien had been indirectly referring to the ship's final destination. He walked closer to her with gracious steps and it was Marinette who spoke next.
"Well, for the time being, I suggest you close your eyes."
Without questioning her, Adrien obeyed as Marinette instructed her. She took his arms from behind as she helped her onto the railing. His right foot went first on the bottom rail, then his left. In three tedious movements, both of his feet were on the railing at the very end of the bow like an impromptu figurehead.
"Do you trust me?" she asked.
His eyes not daring to peek whatsoever, Adrien replied.
"I trust you."
Marinette took his hands and raised them until he was standing with his arms outstretched on each side. Adrien went along with her. When she lowered her hands, his arms stayed up... like wings.
"All right, open your eyes..."
Adrien did and his eyes widened with a smile at the sight beyond his vision. There was no sign of the forecastle or the railing in front of them. No ship at all, only the wind and waters of the Atlantic.
"I am flying, Marinette! I am flying!"
Marinette tipped her face into his flowing hair. The magical moment of the ship gliding through the calm waves merged into a power of force and optimism. Her fingers caressed with his as her voice hummed along with the wind.
Adrien turned his head until his lips were near hers. He lowered his arms, turning further, until he found her mouth with his. She wrapped her arms around his from behind, and in a moment separated from time and space they kissed with his head turned and tilted back, surrendering to her, to the emotion, to the inevitable. The kiss lasted for what seemed like an hour, slowly and tremulously, and then with building passion.
From the crow's nest, Seaman Frank Hennessey spied on them through his binoculars. But his friend, Lookout Thomas Quinn, nudged his focus back towards the horizon.
The two lovers embraced as the kiss carried them away (mentally) into the air. Little did they know that it would be the last time Lusitania would ever see such a grand sight.