A/N 2/26/2020: Two points. 1. I will be updating DFTR 3 soon. I have had many messages asking me to update, and I will, hopefully within the next week. Don't hold me to that though. Work and my step daughter are talking precedence. 2. OT is kicking my a$$! I haven't had a full weekend in ages! but Thank you all so so much for your patience. With out further ado... I give you this next chapter in Caledon's Redemption.
Isobel had twice been bitten by love. She was, and she herself would freely admit this, a hopeless romantic. She believed that people constantly ran into others that had the potential to become soul mates. And the term soul mate didn't just start and end with true love. Some could be your best friend, as with her friendship with Alice Brandon, or that soul mate could be in your life just long enough to impart some form of advise that you desperately needed, such as one girl she met on the reservation of her father's best friend Billy.
She had found refuge in the library once again, trying to compose herself after seeing Cal at supper. She had teased him that she was dressing to impress, and she did so, wearing one of her favorite creations she and the Lady Duff-Gordon had put together. But it seemed that Cal, too, had decided to dress impeccibly as he arrived in, like all of the other men in a finely tailored suit. Cal's however sported his own flare, with a cream colored waist coat and bow tie. His midnight hair, that Isobel had the hardest time not just reaching up and running her fingers through, slicked back out of his face with a slight pompadour look.
She knew she still loved him. She never stopped. But she had managed to dull the pain over time with activity, and eventually with Edward's company; but the moment she heard his voice again, it all came rushing back. She was madly, deeply, and painfully in love with the man. She looked forward to every time she heard his deep and cultured voice.
So here she was, in the library, seeking another distraction, though the book she had chosen was probably not the best for such a feat. She had chosen a childhood favorite, as it combined love and a sense of adventure for her. She liked that it pointed out a few flaws that are present even in today's society. She never thought, though, that she would be able to relate to Jane Eyre on any level. But, now, she found a sense of kinship with the mousey governess. How they both loved a man fiercely, and were forced, though by different circumstances, to give up thier love. She had just read through Rochester's first proposal when she was interrupted.
"And what great literary work has you so enraptured today?" she heard her favorite voice ask, as Cal walked up behind her.
"Jane Eyre," she replied as she looked up from the book.
"Another love story. In my opinion, much better than Wuthering Heights. Tell me, Isobel, what are your thoughts on Rochester? Do you think he was wrong in persuing happiness with Jane with a mad wife locked safe in his attic?" Cal asked as he sat in the chair facing her.
"If you had asked me that question when we had first gotten aquainted, I would have told you that Rochester should have been up front with Jane from the beginning. Or at least told her when he was confessing his feelings in the first place. They may have come to some sort arrangement."
"Wishful thinking," he said shaking his head. "Humans, men in love especially, are selfish creatures. We'll do anything to be with her."
Thier eyes locked and a soft flush made it's way to her cheeks and Caledon's eyes went from sincere and wanting to hungry. Her heart stuttered and jackrabbited in her chest as her breath turned shallow and came in small quiet pants. Attempting to regain what little composure she had managed when she had escaped supper to the nearly deserted library.
But it was no use. Her composure was well and truely broken. And especially with Caledon here in front of her, there was little if any hope for her to regain it. A tear fell from her, splashing on the book in her lap with a tiney wet thump. She gave a quiet sniffle, hoping he wouldn't draw attention to it, but Cal was ever her white knight.
"Isobel," he whispered softly as he got up from his chair and bent on one knee in front of her. One of his hands going to the side of her face, the thumb whiping away the tears as they came, and the other went to his pocket, where he produced a fresh white handkerchief.
"Caledon, I- I," she said just as softly, wraping her hand around the one that was holding out the clean square of cloth. She looked up to him again, and she noticed that his hair had come loose from it's well placed slicked back looke that he had at supper. A lock falling attractively in front of his eyes. "I love you."
His eyes widened for a moment before they became gentle. He didn't say anything, and Isobel felt that she had to continue her thought, or he might think that she was going mental.
"I never stopped loving you. Even when Edward was courting me, it felt as though something was missing. And it was. It was all wrong. He was all wrong. You're the only one I wanted and the only one I still want. I-"
During her rambling, Cal's face never lost the gentle look, but two other emotions became present too. Bemusement and complete adoration. The hand that had held the handkerchief and was captured in hers, reached forward and enclosed her face between it and it's partner and pulled her forward, as his lips gently captured hers. For all the intimacy of the act, it was still rather chaste. His lips pressing firmly to hers but remaining closed so he didn't scare her off. He held the position for a few moments before backing away.
"You always have been, and always will be the only woman to hold my heart, Isobel," he said lowly to her as he pulled away. She gave a happy if watery chuckle in pure ecstacy as her hands mimiced his, taking his face and pulling him back to her, resuming the kiss.
"I love you. You're the only one," he would say in between kissed. The ghost of his breath caressing her face.
"Isobel?" he asked, pulling away from her. She looked at him with complete trust and adoration. He smiled at her lovingly. "Will you marry me? Here. On this ship?"
o0o o0o o0o
The party below decks was an entirely new and somewhat uncomfortable for Rose. She gained a small, if somewhat fleeting, moment of triumph when she spotted the look of jealousy on young Cora Cartmell's face. But there was no true enjoyment of making a young girl jealous. There was no true competition there. She didn't really like making a fool of herself, dancing when there were not actual steps to follow.
Her show of what little ballet skill she still possessed will make itself known for the next week as the swelling in her toes went down. How she will fit into her slippers and heels for the rest of the voyage she didn't know. However uncomfortable she was though, she couldn't deny that the party with Jack was the perfect way to spit in Cal's eyes, letting him know that she will never be controlled. And at the same time, infuriate her mother for her lack of decorum. And if she were honest, she found enjoyment in stringing this little gutter rat along. The lower class were always so eager to please.
She was able to sneak back into her room easily enough last night, and she was quite proud of herself for not showing her fatigue when Trudy came in that morning to get her ready for the day. Right now, she was going through the daunting task of breaking her fast with the spineless worm her mother had betrothed her to.
Once her maid and the White Star Line waiter had left to do thier other duties, Cal spoke.
"You didn't answer your door last night, when I called on you," he said with monotony.
"I was tired," she breathed indiferently.
"Yes. Your exertions below decks were no doubt exhausting," he bit sarcastically as he sipped his coffee.
"I see you had that undertaker of a manservant follow me. How typical," she said, leaning forward and placing her tea back onto the table.
"In all honesty, Rose, I no longer care what you do," he said looking at her. "When this voyage is over, you and I will go our separate ways, and that'll be the end of it."
"What are you talking about?! You can't be rid of me that easily, I'm your fiancé!" she said with rising indignation.
"No, you are not." His simple statement, said with absolute certainty caused her to pause. This gave him the chance he needed to elaborate. "I wired my father yesterday telling him I'm calling off our engagement. I recieved word back this morning that should I go through with it, he would disown me, and give my inheritence to my younger brother August. Considering we are having this conversation, I think it's pretty obvious what my decision is."
"You can't do this!" she hissed. "You wouldn't be allowed in polite society again, at the very least gain another prosperous match."
"That should tell you how much I dispise the thought of becoming your husband, then, shouldn't it? I would rather become destitute, living in slums, than even think of giving you my name, let alone bed you," he sneered hatefully, setting his own cup down.
"Does this have anything to do with that little tart we dined with last night?" she asked calmly. "You didn't honestly think I didn't notice the glaces the two of you were giving each other? What was she? A passing fling. I could make her time here on Titanic a nightmare you know?" she threatened menacingly.
It was a straw too far. Caledon flipped the table and was leaning over her chair and into her face before she could even finish her cry of startlement. He leaned close into her ear so only she could hear what he had to say. "If you so much as think about going near Isobel or her father," he said in a voice that caused the bile in her stomach to start to rise in her throat. "You will find that I am not the only one who will be after your head. I would just have the easiest time getting to you and in so doing, have the most time to make you regret even setting sights on her. Is this in any way unclear?"
Rose shook her head in genuine fear. "N-no," she managed to get out.
"Good. Excuse me," he said before stomping out of the promenade deck.
Now that that obligation was over with, he had more pleasant thoughts to turn to. He had spoken to Ruth earlier that morning, and had left her in a towering rage, and was happier than he had felt in a very long time. He headed to Charle's room, hoping to talk to the man before he and Isobel went to break thier own fasts. Knocking on his door, it was answered by his valet, young Sam.
"It's Mr. Hockley for you, Charlie," the boy said. Cal smiled at him. He looked to be one the boys from the reservation. Probably Charle's valet in pretense. An excuse for him to see the world to his parents and earn a bit of pocket change for whoever caught his fancy back home. He'd have a tale to tell of his own.
"Caledon," Charles said brightly as he came into the room tying his tie. "How are you this morning?"
"I'm good Charles. I come with news," Cal tells him.
"Well, take a seat while I get us a couple of drinks then," Isobel's father said as he gestured to the seats and went to his small bar.
"I have asked Isobel to marry me," Cal said without preamble.
"Hmm, I figured it wouldn't be long. Before you asked nor the actual wedding. You were thinking having the captain marry you, were you not?"
Cal nodded. "There's something else. I've wired my father to tell him I would no longer marry Rose DeWitt Bukater. He said if I wasn't going through with the marriage, he would cut me off. I am now, effectively, penniless."
"It means little, Caledon. Should you wish, I'll teach you the trade of my business, as I did with Isobel, and you both will run it together. It's much smaller than your father's steel magnate, but it is modest, and neither of you will go hungry."
"Thank you. I would be honored!" Cal said with feeling. "I was thinking of wedding Isobel tomorrow evening. You, of course will be there, but we were also thinking of inviting Maggie and young Jack Dawson as witnesses."
Charles nodded. "Sound solid enough. I have business with Mr. Dawson tomorrow morning during the church service if you would join me. I'm giving him some land in exchange for some services. This way, people will see that you have a just reason for breaking off your engagement with Ms. DeWitt Bukater rather than just because you were in love with another. They don't have to know you called it off before hand. And if she tries to tell them, well, it is a sad fact that most people will think that she is trying to save face, rather than telling the truth. We just won't correct them."
"We may have to keep and eye on her and Ruth," Caledon tells Charles. "Neither were happy that I called everything off. Rose even brought up Isobel. I threatened her a little, but I know that won't deter her for long."
Charles nods. "Sam in inconspicuous enough. I'll have him keep an eye on her mother. You might want to have your man, Lovejoy dog the younger woman's heels until we reach New York," he says. Caledon agrees with a simple nod.
o0o o0o o0o
Trudy was tightening up Rose's corset when Ruth entered her room. Ruth ordered Trudy to get thier tea before she set to the task to tightening Rose's corset to an extraordinary tightness.
"Your dalliance with that boy from steerage has cost us everything!" Ruth bit out, the last word punctuated by an extra hard yank on her corset laces.
"Not yet. There is a way to get him back. It'll just take a bit of planning," Rose said.
"What ever you are thinking, forget it!" Ruth all but yelled at her. "You little games with Hockley are useless now. I recieved a telegram from Nathan that he has disowned Caledon. He is willing to endorse an engagement with his second son, August. He is a mere six months older than you. It is still a fine match."
Rose cringed. She had met August. Where Caledon was muscle and good looks, even if he was spineless, August was overweight and had an unforgiving disposition. Between the two, Caledon was more maleable.
"No. The match will go ahead with August. What ever plans you are concocting, I forbit it," Ruth said with finality.
"Oh stop it, mother. You'll give yourself a nose bleed."
Ruth grabbed her daughter's shoulder and turned her. "This is not a game. Our situation is precarious. You know the money is gone."
"Of course I know it's gone. You remind me every day," Rose said with an eye roll.
"Your father left us nothing but a legacy of bad debts hidden by a good name. That name is the only card we have to play. I don't understand you. It was a fine match with Caledon. And it is a fine match with August. It will ensure our survival," Ruth explained.
"How could you put this on my shoulders?" Rose asked petulantly.
"Why are you being so selfish?" Ruth asked.
"I'm being selfish?!"
"Playing your little games. You play that you want to be a free spirit and go where the wind takes you, but you love the money and influence too much, little girl. Caledon gave in to our every whim and you drive him away for a third class dalliance that won't last longer than this trip to New York?! The way you're going, I'm going to be working as a seamstress in a back ally, our fine things will be sold at auction, and our memories will be scattered to the four winds."
Ruth ended her little speech with a hand over her mouth as she turned away. Rose was good at her games, but Ruth as a master.
"It's so unfair," Rose whispered.
"Of course it's unfair. We're women," Ruth said turning back to her daughter. "Our choices are never easy." Ruth looked at Rose for a moment before kissing her cheek lightly and turning her around to fix her corset laces. Rose wouldn't stand for it though. She'd rather a spineless worm than an unforgiving authoritarian.