A/N: For this chapter, I looked up some scans of actual newspapers that covered the Titanic's sinking. The headlines that I've included in all caps are taken from legitimate publications in 1912. Most of the facts shared here are from articles of the time : )

I highly recommend looking these up. It's a fascinating read to see how this event was covered.

In the wake of the sinking, the presses of every newspaper in America ran hot and hungry. No headline was too salacious, no illustration too heart-wrenching. National memorials brought mourning masses in by the thousands. At one such event, Alexander Carlisle, an engineer and designer of Titanic was said to have fainted and had to be carried from the scene. A Senate Committee was called to investigate the disaster, their mustachioed faces etched in scrutiny as they meticulously probed the evidence and questioned those directly involved.

A portrait of Titanic's owner J. Bruce Ismay took up the entire front page of the Washington Times, and while the bold type face surrounding is stoic visage proclaimed, "SAYS NO WOMEN IN SIGHT WHEN HE ENTERED LIFEBOAT," the words spelt COWARD to all who read it.

The statements of many survivors placed a great deal of blame on Captain Edward Smith who was seen in the first-class dining room at the time of the collision and was said to have been there for hours. The ship's leader who was absent from the bridge, "where he belonged," had reportedly disregarded multiple ice warnings and sanctioned the order to travel full speed ahead. Ismay refuted the "top-speed" claim at his trial on White Star's behalf.

Stories of heroes and villains were printed side by-side, the same ink that glorified one group unabashedly persecuted another. The Post ran a lengthy dossier on the "heroism" of Millionaire John Jacob Aster as he "bravely" secured his young wife's safety aboard a lifeboat while gallantly refusing to take up space of his own. In the same issue, a column no larger than a postage stamp declared, "MEN IN 1ST AND 2ND CABINS CALM. ITALIANS SHOT TO KEEP ORDER."

Mr. Aster's remains were later recovered from the sea and were ostentatiously laid to rest in his family vault in Manhattan. The fate of the Italian passengers and their families went unprinted and forgotten.

As expected, the Heroic Hockley sold exceptionally well. The papers proclaimed Evelyn a cherub while Caledon was her guardian angel. With their mix of innocence and bravery, loss and hope, the story practically wrote itself. Even after the newspapers gradually turned their attention to newer calamities, the magazines clung to the Hockleys for as long as they could. They ran exposes about the late Rose DeWitt Bukater, opinion pieces about whether Cal was now considered a widow or a bachelor, and frequently speculated about who his next conquest might be. Viewed as a humble man, cushioned by wealth and cloaked in mourning, for the most part his request for privacy was respected. But the nosey, sympathetic public agreed, his child would need a mother and it was only a matter of time before the society pages could print their next sensation.

In addition to the ever-present stack of newspapers, Caledon's home office was littered with a mess of notes, letters and telegrams. Among them were invitations from old college friends, condolences from family acquaintances, interview requests from lingering reporters and several drawings in crayon and watercolor from Evelyn. Apart from his daughter's art, which was carefully collected and stored in the top right drawer of his desk, the majority of Cal's correspondences were scrapped, unanswered and uncared for. Golfing and luncheons held little interest to him these days, and the more he read their repetitive remarks encouraging him to "get back on the horse" or "get back in the game," the more shallow and detached their words became.

Events like these now made him feel like a freakshow. Everyone expected a show, whether it was his university chums egging Cal to rehash the gruesome details of the disaster, or their mewing wives pawing at him with words of compassion and eyes of poorly-hidden desire. After a few half-hearted attempts to reenter Pittsburgh society, Cal developed a queasy reaction to the people he'd once considered his friends and decided he no longer owed them his time at the sake of his discomfort. However, that didn't stop the letters from coming and cluttering his desk.

Sorting through the latest crop, Cal lifted a folder containing his father's recent insurance claim and finally found what he was looking for: a letter from Cora that had somehow gotten mixed in with that week's dribble. Breaking the seal with his letter opener, Cal's dark eyes quickly scanned the swirls and flourishes of his sister's cursive. As he read, the now familiar sound of Evelyn's stocking feet running across the hardwood alerted him to her arrival. Without a word, she jumped onto his lap, scooching close enough to the desk so she could lay out a sheet of drawing parchment and a handful of crayons. Evelyn scribbled away as if it were her job to be there, and after adjusting his daughter on his knee so he could continue reading, Cal sent an affirming wave to Ms. Kruger in the doorway, silently letting her know that the child's presence wasn't a nuisance.

Dearest brother,

Oscar has business in New York that requires his presence for the month of August, so the boys and I are going with him and making a trip of it.

Come with us.

New York is a far cry from the remote seclusion you've been seeking, but the society there is less pushy and invasive than the prodding throng here in Pittsburgh.

You can get out of that house for a while, and Evelyn and Percy can have month-long play date. It will be good for everyone.

Please say you will.

Affectionately yours,

Cora

Folding the letter, Cal looked at Evelyn, drawing her attention. "How would you like to go on a holiday?"