Wednesday, May 5th, 1915
The next day, after Chloé and Gabriel left for first service lunch, Adrien took Marinette to B-51, the lounge of the starboard side Regal Suite.
"It's quite proper, I assure you," he said, introducing the exquisite detail of the room to her. "This is the sitting room."
Marinette hardly lingered at the mahogany paneled suite, her eyes directed at The Lyrical Landscape, which Adrien had placed on the right side wall only yesterday before going to bed. Having changed at a marginal rate thanks to Marinette's words, he thought the room needed more color...or perhaps it reminded him of Marinette and all artwork she had done in the previous five years of her life.
"Isn't that use of color great?" she asked.
"Yes, it's extraordinary," Adrien replied. "Sir Hugh Lane gave it to me."
Marinette's eyes went wide. In her studies as an artist and a designer, she knew that the person in question was an art collector, and she was hoping that some of his possessions would give her inspiration.
"Sir Hugh Lane...of the National Gallery?"
"He's onboard," Adrien nodded.
"Can we see him? at least sneak a peek?" Marinette jittered excitedly.
"We can," Adrien had one idea up his sleeve. "But first, I would like to see you impress him."
He went over to the safe just as Gwen and Anna, who were returning from a near skirmish with Boatswain John Davies, came into the room, laughing quietly to each other. Anna had her white dress splattered with grey paint and was in need of having it cleaned before their mother came back from playing cards with Dr. Fred Pearson and Sir Hugh Lane himself. They stopped when saw Marinette, exchanging glances of confusion and worry.
"What is she doing here?" Gwen asked, recognizing her from two dinners ago.
Adrien, hearing the girls' voices, rushed over to them.
"Uh, I just wanted to show Marinette the room before we disembarked. I mean she never gets an opportunity to see stuff like this."
"Well, she did see the dining room," said Anna with certainty.
"But not the staterooms," Adrien added. "And could you please not tell anyone about this? I do not want Chloé or Father to know until the time is right."
"What time?" the sisters asked in unison.
"When we leave of course," Adrien said politely. "Now why don't you go and play somewhere else?"
"I suppose," Anna wondered. "But let me get changed first."
As Gwen saw to it that Anna had changed out of her paint-spilled dress, Adrien went back to the safe. In the middle of opening the combination, he told Marinette about it's uniqueness.
"Chloé insists on carting this thing everywhere."
Marinette, fearful but visibly undaunted by sudden arrival of the Allan sisters as a foreshadowing, wondered back to him.
"Should we be expecting her or your father any time soon?"
"Not unless if the brandy and gossip hold out."
Adren brought the very object from the safe to Marinette, the ring. Marinette held it, amazed by the details as much as Adrien was the first time he laid his eyes upon it.
"Nice. Is it a jet?"
"A miraculous stone," Adrien said with the voice of a tour guide in a museum. "A very rare stone from worn by the cat goddess Bastet."
They observed the ring for eight seconds, enamored by the wealth of complication.
"Marinette, if you want to impress Sir Lane, I want you to draw me like one of your French boys...wearing only this."
Marinette looked at him, wide-eyed.
"You mean...nude?"
He nodded at the previous innuendo.
After Anna and Gwen left for other activities on the deck, like a game of shuffleboard, Marinette sat on a leather chair in the sitting room, laying out her pencils like surgical tools. Adrien came in wearing a black colored robe and he twirled the belt in his left hand like it was a cat's tail.
"The last thing I need for my father's fashion company is another picture of me looking like a mannequin."
He handed her a dime.
"As paying customer," he said in a playful version of a gentleman's tone. "I expect to get what I deserve."
He took his hands on the lapels and pulled them down to his elbows, exposing his chest, his abdomen, his privates and finally the bottom half of his body were in full view of her eyesight. Marinette struggled to hold her breath, preventing herself from laughing.
"Over there on the sofa," she directed him.
So he did, slowly and gracefully, settling like a cat by placing his right leg on the sofa first and relaxed his head on the pillow.
"Tell me when it looks right," she asked Marinette.
The girl directed him sharply on the following directions.
"Put your right hand over your face so I can see the ring. Keep your eyes on me and try to keep still."
Adrien took a deep draw of breath and Marinette began. She drew the top of his head first, taking the easy strokes, nearly distracted by Adrien's deep reply of "So serious".
Marinette continued, looking over her sketchbook every thirty seconds or so to etch Adrien's body into her mind until the drawing started to take on an uncanny appearance.
"I believe you were blushing Miss Big Artist," Adrien teased. "I cannot imagine Mr. Carot blushing."
Marinette stopped and looked over, replying with squinted eyes.
"He does landscapes. Now relax your face."
Adrien sighed again, deeply as Marinette resumed. His face was nearly complete along with his right hand carrying the ring and the fingers covering his face. Followed by sure strokes of his neck, chest and abdomen in the photorealistic detail of reality itself, his pose became languid, his hands were beautiful, and his eyes radiated his energy. It was an image that he would carry for the rest of his life. After he was dressed, Adrien wrote the events in his diary, ending with:
"My heart was pounding the whole time. It felt like it was the most erotic moment of my life.
Before you ask if we did the deed, well...sorry to disappoint you, diary. Marinette was very professional."
Back in the sitting room, Adrien leaned over Marinette as she made the finishing touches. The picture was perfect in every way, and all it needed was the cherry on the top.
"Date it, Marinette. I always want to remember this day."
So she did: 5/5/15. Adrien, meanwhile, went to write on a piece of Lusitania stationary. He placed it in the safe before bringing Marinette outside. She was ready to meet a fellow connoisseur of art, with inspiration, critique and a possible place in the National Gallery for all the world to see.
She was ready to meet a fellow connoisseur of art, with inspiration, critique and a possible place in the National Gallery for all the world to see
Sir Lane's cabin, D-26, had only four of the many artworks by Monet, Rembrandt, Rubens, and Titian placed on the walls. The rest were all in the hold. Adrien took Marinette down to D-Deck just before Nathalie was coming back from a luncheon in the dining saloon with Emily Davis and Annie Walker. Charles Frohman and Frederick Orr-Lewis' valets George Slingsby and William Stainton dined with them over a light meal of hors d'oeuvres and some wine, putting her under a small effect of the drink. Her eyes did not see Adrien going down the hall until it was too late for her to catch a second glace. Sir Lane had also returned from lunch, and had spent no more than three minutes alone in his cabin when Adrien knocked on the door.
"Yes?" he asked, peaking his head through the door. "Agreste's son?"
"Yes. I'd like to introduce you to a fellow artist, her name is Marinette Cheng?"
"Is her artwork valuable?"
"More than that," Marinette tried to control her enthusiasm. "It's exquisite."
While Adrien went back to his room, hoping that the Allan sisters had not told their mother, his father and Chloé about Marinette drawing him like turncoats in the middle of the war they were fighting, Sir Lane sat down in the chair and started to look through Marinette's sketchbook. She sat down on the bed and wobbled her feet as Sir Lane took his time, observing the colorless drawings.
He gazed at the painting, taking in the varying details of the eyes. This was followed by his tedious shifting towards the abs, the nipples, his barely recognizable rib cages and his stomach. It was lucky enough for him that Marinette had only reached Adrien's hips, otherwise he would have written her off as another Henry Scott Tuke, with his artworks of nude children for purposes regarding the human body. Adrien's body, however, seemed smooth and as youthful as her hands and the effort that was put into the creation of the vivid portrait.
At last he confirmed his results.
"It is rather life-like, that is for sure, but I do not believe that erotic art is not exactly what I need for my collection."
Marinette assumed that she was being dejected. Although Sir Lane had praised her for the other works she had done, he could not be fazed by her latest opus.
"Well...thanks anyway."
She walked away, slowly, not even bothering to notice Adrien, who came back from a quick walk on the promenade deck. She was back in her own world by the time he noticed...and he thought it was time to get back to hers. When they met again behind the doors to the D-Deck landing just before dinner, he agreed to put the sketchbook back in the safe. Intentionally, the drawing and the note he had written earlier was intended to be a surprise for Chloé. Rather than having dinner in the first class dining saloon, Adrien spent the rest of the evening with Marinette in third class, telling no one else about the portrait besides Mr. Myers, who was slightly surprised when he heard about the naturist concept.
In spite of what seemed like a perfect day for the two lovers from two worlds, there were still political elements at work. At 2:00 AM, the three-masted schooner Earl of Lathom found herself in troubled waters with a cargo of bacon and potatoes en route to Liverpool. She did not make at least eight miles to port, for she was stopped by U-20 and was forced to surrender her cargo and abandon her crew before being fatally destroyed by twelve grenades. Ian Holbourn spoke with Captain Turner on the promenade deck about the need for a lifeboat drill, but their exact words could only be guessed. Turner found this and a similar complaint from George Kessler unwelcome and Holbourn headed down to dinner.
Together, all one hundred and fifty ships of the British Grand Fleet had formed a blockade lying directly across the European shipping lanes of the North Sea. U-boats were not unheard of there, but the Kaiser's intention to sink any ship flying the British flag proved to be a potential threat. Germany's cold reception of the blockade in February had led to an excessive force of action that turned the British waters into a war zone. A fleet of submarines drifted southwards to the British Isles, originally intent on attacking and raiding commercial ships of their cargo. Captain Turner, currently unaware of the Earl of Lathom incident, kept Lusitania's course on the usual turning point of the northeastern route. He planned to bring the ship under her top cruising speed, doing as much as he could with only three boiler rooms active. But Turner did not know that for all of her grandeur and her many safety features, Lusitania was still closing in fast on the very war zone that he hoped to avoid.