Cal took a deep breath to steady his nerves as he stood in front of room C-17. He made a mental note to do something nice for Lovejoy, for managing to get the room number for Charles. That however, now lead to his current predicament, of getting up the nerve to talk to the father of the woman he had never stopped loving, yet had been forced to break, all for this God forsaken engagement. After a few minutes, he shook his head and decided there was nothing for it. He'd either knock on the door and talk to the man as a man, or tuck tail and run like a coward, and have to live with never knowing.
The decision was taken out of his hands though, when the door opened and Charles stepped aside to let him in. He didn't say a word. He didn't have to. The look in his eyes said it all. He knew the torment that Cal was going through and, while admiring the gumption it took to come and see him, he wasn't happy that he was throwing a monkey wrench into thier emotional lives once more.
Cal entered, giving a small bow and a sad smile to the man, and Charles closed the door.
"Caledon. While I personally am happy to see you again, I have to say, the upset that you have caused my daughter is something I can not stand for," Charles said.
Cal sighed and ran a hand through his already mussed hair. "I know. I am sorry to cause Isobel distress, but I am afraid that it is my mere presence that causes such, and I can not hide in my rooms the entire voyage."
"I know, son. It is a Catch 22. You can not be in each other's company without causing pain, but not being seen would cause a rucus. Come. Sit. Tell me about your life for the past two years."
"It is actually Isobel's life since our parting I wished to know," Cal said, taking a seat at the small table Charle's room provided. "She caught up with me after I had tracked down and rebuked Rose for her behavior, and after a small exchange, I noticed some changes in her demeanor and bearing."
"Hmm," Charles intoned, giving a small nod. "I always did like that about you. You've always known what you want, and take the direct approach to get it."
He sat opposite Cal, and served them both a small glass of brandy, after seeing another be brought for the other man in the room. "Isobel told me of her offer for you both to run off and elope. I would have supported the idea, you know."
Caledon was surprised at such a declaration. "You would have given it your blessing?!" he asked incredulously.
"You must understand that neither Isobel or I are the most demonstrative of our feelings towards each other. We are too much alike in the fact that when it comes to showing a parent or close loved one we do indeed love them, we become awkward. Another thing we have in common is that we both dislike being the center of attention, though we see the need for it occasionally due to our social standing. We take it on the chin with dignity. I've known since she was a child that she didn't want a large wedding. So long as she was settled and happy, I would have given her to her chosen with a smile on my face and a kiss on her forehead."
There was silence for a moment as Cal took in the information.
"It took a full year before Belle would even think about accepting other suitors. When she did, it was a tentative relationship with the local doctor's son."
Cal nodded. "I assumed it would have been him or the young man named Jacob that she kept speaking of."
Charles shook his head. "Belle never saw the boy as more than a good friend or little brother. The young man never declared himself officially, but he and Belle had spent so much time together that the whole town practically expected him to propose. After six months, I felt that something wasn't right. In the fact that he never declared himself, and the look in his eyes. They weren't honest, Caledon. But Belle wouldn't hear any word against him, and at that point, neither would Esme, who had taken up with the doctor himself. He left her in the woods, lost, alone, and without aide just after Carlisle and Esme had departed for thier honeymoon. None of the family has been heard of since. Isobel was found by local tribesmen 12 hours later, two hours walk into the woods, suffering from hypothermia and manic depression."
Cal's fists were clenched at this point, as he held back a tidal wave of anger so large, it was a wonder the very ship they were on didn't lurch from under them.
"And the name of the family Miss. Platt married into?" he said lowly.
"Cullen. Carlisle Cullen, Esme, his son, Edward, and daughter Rosalie, from what I was able to gather, a well respected surgeon in Boston, before his tenure in Washington."
"They will be held accountable. I may never be what I wanted for Isobel, but they will be held accountable. It is the least I can do. If I-" But he was interrupted by a knock at the door. It was Lovejoy.
"Excuse me, young master Hockley, but your fiancé urgently needs your attention on the deck. The Master at Arms has been called for as well."
Caledon, who's anger was already at dangerous levels, ended up gripping his glass of brandy so tightly, it shattered in his hand without his noticing. Charles sighed once more and passed Cal a handkerchief, as he took another from his room and started picking up the pieces.
"Go, son. You have never been one to shirk your duties, don't start now." Cal nodded sadly at the man, and Charles noted a new look of weariness in his eyes that his beloved daughter had sported for the past half a year. "Have faith. The world may not always grant us what we wish, but it always gives us what we need."
Cal left, follownig Lovejoy out of the room. It wasn't long after that Isobel knocked on her father's door lightly before entering. Seeing the mess he was cleaning, she immediately grew concerned and started helping him pick up the larger pieces, being careful not to cut herself on the sharp edges.
"Is everything all right, daddy?" she asked him softly. Charles gave her a smile, with a small chuckle, and waved her off.
"A clumsy moment of inattention. I seemed to manage to knock my glass of brandy to the floor looking for my pocketwatch. Found the blasted thing, but managed to hipcheck the table in the process," he said, patting his pocket with said watch.
"Well, in any case, I wanted to see if you wanted to take lunch tomorrow, in the dining room. I figured I can't avoid everyone the whole journey. I did promise to model the new dresses Lady Duff Gordon and I designed for her, after all," she said with a small smile. Charles nodded.
"I would love to, Belle," he said.
"Leave this, dad. I'll send in Micheal to collect the glass."
"Just as well. My old knees don't like being on the floor anyhow," he said with a grunt as he rose from the floor.
Isobel smiled and headed for the door once more. Only she noticed something odd on her way out. If her dad had dropped his glass of brandy as he said he had, why then was there one half drunk on display? She looked back at her father, who was brushing out the creases in his pants, with a puzzled look before she quitted the room. He had obviously had a visitor, and only one would cause him to lie to her.
o0o o0o o0o
Cal got to the deck, and, after ensuring that Rose was indeed settled and her 'nerves' were once more calm, he started in on her.
"What is the point of this, Rose?" he asked her tiredly. "Is the attention I shower you with not enough?"
Rose looked him dead in the eye, making sure that Colonal Gracie was deep in conversation with Lovejoy before answering.
"No. And I'll be damned if I'm going to travel for the five days it'll take us to get into New York without some form of entertainment," she said coldly before looking at the young blonde man currently in hand cuffs. Cal got angry once again and growled as he stood.
"This is completely unacceptable!" he said in a fit of frustrated jealousy. It wasn't the fact that he loved Rose. No. His heart forever belonged to Isobel. But he was doing everything in his power to please her, and coming up wanting, when this young man seemed to gain her attention without even trying.
"What made you think that you could put your hands on my fiancé?!" Jack looked Cal over once quickly, before his eyes went to Rose. Cal gained his attention once more by taking him by the front of his shirt. "Look at me, you filth! What do you think you were doing?"
"Cal. Cal, stop. It was a accident," Rose said, taking his arm and prying it from the young man's shirt.
"An accident?" he asked her incredulously.
"It was," she affirmed. "Stupid, really. I was leaning over and I slipped."
Even the blonde youth looked at Rose to see what she was on about. Rose looked back at him, as if to tell him to go along with her story before she continued.
"I was leaning far over to see the, uh, uh, uh... the uh, uh," she said, searching for the word as she closed her eyes to concentrate and spun her fingers in a circular motion.
"Propellers?" Cal prompted.
He rolled his eyes as she picked up the story. "Propellers, and I slipped. And I would have gone overboard, but Mr. Dawson here saved me. And almost went over himself."
"You wanted to see the... she wanted to see the propellers," Cal laughed, disbelievingly.
"Like I said, women and machinery do not mix," Colonel Gracie chimed in as he circled the group to the now named Mr. Dawson.
"Was that the way of it?" the Master at Arms asked. Jacked looked at Rose, who gave him a look he correctly interpreted before turning to the man that had him bound.
"Yeah. Yeah, that was pretty much it," he said calmly.
"Well, the boy's a hero then. Good for you son. Well done," Colonel Gracie said as he said to try and lighten the mood he was more or less oblivious to. "So, it's all's well and back to our brandy, eh?"
"Let's go, Rose," Cal said, taking her by the shoulders and firmly stearing her towards the warm inside of the ship.
"Perhaps a little something for the boy?" Gracie suggested.
"Of course," Cal said to the elder man before turning to his valet. "Mr. Lovejoy, I think a 20 should do it." Lovejoy nodded and Cal once more turned to leave with Rose before she put in her two unwanted cents.
She gave an appalled chuckle. "Is that the going rate for saving the woman you love?"
Cal gave her a look that told her he was not amused. But he couldn't do anything within the present company.
"Rose is displeased. What to do?" he said mockingly. Then he hit on an idea. Not to humiliate the youth, no. But he knew that 20 dollars would have done more for the man that anything else. Rose, though, seemed to think otherwise, so he would give the man a meal to remember, and hopefully show him her, and possibly her mother's, true colors so he could run back to third class and stay there, where he would be infinitely safer.
"I know," he walked up to Jack. "Perhaps you could join us for dinner tomorrow evening. To regale our group with your heroic tale?"
"Sure," Jack said, dubiously. "Count me in."
"Good. It's settled then," he said before he and Gracie turned. "This should be interesting," he told the old soldier.
o0o o0o o0o
Cal knocked on Rose's room door before entering. He waited in the doorway for a few moments before he got up the nerve to speak.
"I know you've been melancholy. I don't pretend to know why," he said. Then he entered her room and moved to her dressing table, where he closed the singing music box she had playing. He turned to look at her and froze. There on her neck, was the diamond he had bought, but was hesitant on giving her. It was obvious he now had to change the combination on his safe.
"I see you've found the gift I had intended for the gala next week," he said bitingly. "Though I must wonder at why you insist on going through my personal things."
"What's yours is mine, darling," she said. "If I'm to be sold, I want to actually be worth something on par with royalty."
Cal pushed off from the table and made his way to her door, then turned. "You know, that was last worn by Louis the XVI. It is said to have even been around his neck at the time of his execution in 1792. I'll bet you didn't know that little tidbit when you saw the pretty blue diamond in the window. I hope, for your sake, there isn't a curse upon that diamond. After all, the three intervening owners have also perished for this or that reason. Wouldn't do to loose your pretty head before we are even married," he said maliciously. Rose paled in the middle of polishing her silver framed mirror and looked up at his reflection in the table mirror, just seeing him leave the room.
The diamond was back in it's place in his safe before the night was finished.
o0o o0o o0o
Lunch had passed rather uneventfully for Charles and Isobel, for which they were both rather thankful. Things had even gone so normally, in fact, that they had decided to also take tea together. Or in Charles's case, a rather large and robust cup of coffee. The man never did aquire a taste for tea. They were joined half way through by the Lady Duff Gordon, who marveled over how well a dark periwinkle dress with a delicate pink and black sash about the waist fit the young woman. Her hair, put up in a simple roman style with a ribbon about her head.
It was then the slightly louder and boistrous tones of Maggie Brown drifted through the intervening two tables to them.
"Hello, girls. I was hoping I'd catch you at tea," she said to the two women sitting at the table. It was Mrs. Dewitt Bukater and the Countess of Rothes.
"We're awfully worry, you missed it," Mrs. Dewitt Bukater said to Maggie. "The Countess and I were just off to take the air on the boat deck."
Isobel stood. "You may sit with us, Mrs. Brown," she said, gesturing to herself, her father, and the Lady. "We were just going over our most recent dress designs if that'll intrest you at all."
Maggie Brown's whole coutenance lifted as she joined Isobel and her father, leaving the Countess and Rose's mother looking as though they were sucking on lemons.
"At any rate, I'm sure that both of those ladies wouldn't agree with our current topic of discussion," she said in a lower tone for the table's ears only.
"Oh?" Maggie asked.
Isobel nodded. "I was thinking about furthuring my education. I would love to pursue a nursing degree. Perhaps even become a doctor in time."
"No, I'm sure they wouldn't agree at all," the older woman said stunned. "Ruth is sure that University is to find a husband. She forbad Rose from going because her match had already been decided." Isobel flinched at the woman's unintended gaff but managed to somewhat pass it off as disapproval. Maggie was more clever than she was given credit for. She hadn't always been wealthy after all, and had to get to know people through body language.
"I may not believe in the heavy handed approach the feminist movement it using. But out dated ideas like that will never win us the vote," Isobel said.
"I knew I pegged you right for a suffrigette," Maggie said. Isobel shook her head.
"Yes and no, Mrs. Brown. I believe that we should have the right to be educated and have jobs like any other man. That we should have a vote in who is president and who will represent us. I do not however, see the point in dehumanizing men in the process. Nor do I think we women should throw away what makes us so unique. We are not meant to do everything a man can, just like men can not do everything we can. I will never match the strength of a full grown man, nor do I want to. I want to feel safe with my future spouse as much as I'm sure they will want to protect me. I want to give birth to our children with him supporting me and being terrified of fatherhood but excited as well, every step of the way. It's something many of my generation over look in thier outcry for equality," she explained.
"Well said, Isobel," came Cal's soft tones from behind her. "Charles, I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time?" he asked of her father. Charles looked at Isobel to ensure she would be all right in present company with out him. She nodded, and he turned his attention back to Cal.
"Certainly," he said, laying his napkin once again on the table and rising to follow the younger man out.
o0o o0o o0o
"So you've not yet lit the last four boilers," Bruce Ismay said, reading the latest report from Captain Smith.
"No, I don't see the need. We are making excellent time," the Captain said proudly.
Bruce folded the report and said, "The press knows the size of Titanic, now I want them to marvel at her speed. We must give them something new to print." He looked about the dining room and took a lungful of smoke from his cigarette before he continues. "This maiden voyage of Titanic must make headlines."
"Mr. Ismay, I would prefer not to push the engines until they've been properly run in," the Captain said in all seriousness.
"Of course, I'm just a passenger. I'll leave it to your good offices to decide what's best. But what a glorious end to your final crossing if we were to get into New York on Tuesday night and surprise them all. Make the morning papers. Retire with a bang, eh E.J?" The wealthy Shipbuilder could see he had pushed his point home. "Good man."
o0o o0o o0o
Late Morning, April 11, 1912
I have admitted that I had viewed Charles as a father more than my own. To this I hold. I asked for a moment of his time today and admitted that I could not at all go through with this farce of a union. Everyone knows that my heart isn't in it. But now, every fiber of my being is screaming at me to break off the association, no matter the legal reprocussions. I admitted to my continued affections for Isobel, and I am sure I have an ally in him to regain her affections.
But he gave me a warning. Not the one where the father of a girl tries to scare off prospective suitors. He'd already given me that one, though reaffirmed it during this talk, stating that he respected and admired my ability to be honest and dutiful. No, this warning was one I didn't want to particularly hear. That Isobel may have closed herself off from love perminantly. He says that it may be a herculean task to win her affections once again, but I do not believe it will be as hard as he thinks.
I saw her reaction to me every instance I have come across her. The first was obviously surprise. Of course, I wasn't expecting to see her either, so we were both shocked. But I also noted a very faint glimmer of hope in her eye. The second instance, when we spoke on the deck, she was melancholy, and hurt, but the flame of hope was stronger, if not by much, and I percieved a slight jump as she laid her hand on my arm. It was barely perceptible, and I doubt she even caught it, or indeed, if she had, paid it any mind. She once told me that touching me was akin to putting her hand near an open flame. That warmth seeped into every bit of her. I hope that feeling still lingers.
Finally, when I asked her father for a moment during thier chat at tea. Even unconsciously, she angled herself to see me better, even when she did her best not to draw attention to any association we may have. She still cares for me, I know it. Now I just have to draw it out. Let the world see our true intentions, whatever they may be.