Chapter XV: A Long Awaited Conversation

A/N: The fact that there is only one computer in the house is fast becoming a problem. A problem that will hopefully soon be rectified. This chapter was finished a few weeks ago, but I could not get to the computer. Thanks go out to The Cowgirl Bookworm. Looking forward to seeing what you all think! Italics are flashbacks or thoughts. Bold is Spanish. SSD

Summer 1893

Today was the day of departure. Both Roland and Cecily had been moody for the past few days. His son had groused about wearing matching colored clothes to his sister but Maeve would not hear anything else on the matter.

Cecily was sticking to her mother like glue, looking around at the crowed with wide eyes. Roland was fooling around with Harold one last time.

Albert watched Maeve lean down to whisper something in Cecily's ear, nodding at Roland and Harry. Clearly disgusted she squealed, "EWW! Why would I want to do that? He's friends with Roland! And he's a boy!"

"I was just joking, but you should still say goodbye to him my dear," her mother soothed.

Cecily groaned, but made her way towards her brother and his friend anyway.

"What did you suggest to our daughter that made her so reviled," he asked his wife.

"I merely suggested that she give Harold a kiss on the cheek goodbye," Maeve replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Why in God's Green Earth would you suggest that?" Sometimes his wife had a strange sense of humor.

"I wanted to see how she would react. Now watch and be quiet Albert," she ordered.

To say it was odd would have been understating it. Harold and Cecily saying their goodbyes; they were stiff as they awkwardly embraced. Only staying together for a moment, they quickly jumped apart as if each had burned the other.

His wife giggled. Even Albert could not help but chuckle.

Roland came up to them asking, "What's so funny? Why are you laughing at Harry and Cecily?"

Still giggling, Maeve said, "Your father will explain when you are older."

"Roland will find out on his own soon enough. I will explain certain things to him though," he chuckled back at his wife.

"In time, I strongly suspect that Harold will be back for a far different conversation with you. There's something in him, he'll find his way back to us. In one way or another," his beloved wife suggested.

"He's just a boy Maeve," he argued.

"A mother knows these things Albert. He won't stay a boy forever. And Cecily won't always be disgusted by the thought of kissing a boy. Let's make it interesting. A $5 gold coin should suffice?

Cleaning his 1873 Colt Peacemaker, Albert could still remember that day as if it were yesterday, not nearly 20 years ago. Once they'd gotten to the US, the needed coin had been acquired. After Maeve had died, he'd done his best to forget just about everything about his wife, as merely thinking about her caused him pain.

It was only in recent years that Albert had been able to take a few old pictures of Maeve out here and there. Like the one on his desk at the moment.

He wondered how much, if ever, Cecily and Roland thought of their mother. Neither of them spoke of her. They had been 12 and a half and 15 when she died. Her death and not been easy for either of them, but his daughter had been right at that point where she was really going to need her mother. Albert hoped he had not screwed things up too much. He'd had some help.

Albert could not help but smile at the memory of last night. He had a feeling that more than a few people had meddled to get Cecily and Harold into a situation where they'd dance. Lucy, Mina, and even Antin had gotten involved in it. There had been some initial awkwardness, they soon focused only on each other.

It did get at his pride as a father to see another man holding her so close. But there was a larger part of him that took joy in the fact that his daughter was no longer scared of a man holding her that close. She had chosen wisely.

Looking at the picture of his late wife he grinned, "As always, you were right. He's had a busy week, so he's talking to me today. Harold wanted to talk to me last night. Wherever you are, you're laughing your arse off at me. And our son. If he'd seen that dance…"

"It's not like Roland doesn't have good reasons to be overprotective. This time, I don't think he's noticed how the two of them have been looking at each other. Roland has been busy at work all week, he'll likely catch on in the next day or two."

"Both of our children are in love. Roland is going to propose to Ghislaine sometime in middle to late May. You'd like her, even though she's French. I've met her, she does seem to be the type to understand that Cecily may not be at her best at the moment. Then there's Harold and Cecily. I'm glad he came to his senses whilst he was still here. Our daughter would not have been pleasant to deal with if he had not. But what the devil am I supposed to say to him? How much is too much? He's helped her come out of her shell, I'm grateful for that, but I do not want him to think I'm soft! Jesus, what I'd give to have you here right now," he rubbed his eyes.

Albert just finished up the Peacemaker when Rafaela strode into the room and upon noticing what was in his hands shouted, "Mr. Lethbridge, give me that pistol right now!"

"It's just a bit of fun," he groused while he handed the unloaded gun over to his annoyed housekeeper.

"He is waiting outside your office already, pale as a ghost. You do not want to know what Antin said to scare the hell out of him last night," Rafaela informed him as she put the pistol in a pocket, still sticking out.

"Damn Antin, he knew I was looking forward to this," Albert muttered.

"I am certain you can figure out other ways to scare your future son in law," his housekeeper drawled before switching to Spanish, "Sabes que vas a decir que si."

"Que te hace decir eso?" Albert asked in the same language.

"Te vi sonriendo mientras bailaban anoche," Rafaela answered with a smirk.

Harry had barely slept the night before. And it was not just nerves from what he was going to be asking, but from what Antin had said.

The Lethbridge's head of security had found him smoking before bed and had decided to talk with him. More accurately to talk at him about what Harry could expect if he harmed Cecily in any way.

Harry had never given much thought to the ways a man could be tortured, but it was clear that Antin was well versed in them from time in the Philippines and China with the US Army. Those had bounced around his mind all night long, along with his fear that Albert would refuse him and that Cecily would not be allowed to him.

At least speaking with Cecily's father gets me out of the way of whatever havoc Charles and Erik are planning! He rubbed his eyes. Harry had seen the resident peddlers of chaos hauling a victrola up the stairs, likely to outside Will's room.

He did not want to know what they were up to, he thought he'd seen them swiping Murdoch's clothes as well. Harry was just glad to be out of that particular line of fire.

Harry overheard Rafaela talking to Albert in Spanish. Not for the first time he wished he could speak the language.

Whatever endearment Cecily had started using for him, was likely German. The only other speakers of German that he knew of for sure were Albert and Roland. And asking them what Cecily had said was unwise. Unless he made it out like he'd heard it someplace else?

Rafaela came out of the study muttering in Spanish. Upon seeing him she said, "Mr. Lethbridge is ready for you. Don't worry. I confiscated the pistol he was cleaning."

Still walking in cautiously, he saw Albert behind a desk. Once Cecily's father noticed him close the door, a gold coin was flipped towards him.

Harry caught it with ease, but still asked, "What is this for, Mr. Lethbridge?"

"I am settling a bet I made with someone a long time ago," the older man replied, his eyes growing misty.

"Who?"

"Cecily and Roland's mother. She always thought you would make your way back to us and make your intentions towards our daughter clear," Mr. Lethbridge replied, amusement in his voice.

"How could she have known? We were so young," Harry wondered aloud.

"Maeve called it mother's intuition. If she was alive, I would be getting no end of grief right now," Albert grinned.

Deciding that he should get straight down to how they first ran into each other, he began, "I heard someone playing the violin. It sounded so enchanting, I stopped to listen. I had no idea it would be Cecily. She looked so different from the last time I saw her."

"My daughter is not seven years old anymore," Albert chuckled.

"I saw her again later that day with her aunt. I um, apparently I was so distracted by her that Mr. Lightoller could have set my trousers on fire several times over," Harry tried to control his flush and failed.

"It sounds as if you are already quite smitten. I should hope that did not let that move you past the point of respectability," sternness clear in his voice.

He tried to keep what they'd gotten up to from his mind as replied, "We would never think of it." Especially what they'd gotten up to on board the Carpathia and in the Brooklyn Navy Yard. Harry really didn't want Cecily's father speaking to the first officer at all!

Mr. Lethbridge chose to ignore his flush by saying, "You know, I'll never be able to thank you enough for getting her home safe."

Thinking that this would be as good a point as any, he asked, "Mr. Lethbridge, you do speak German correct?"

"I do. Why do you ask?"

"During a break in the inquiry I overheard some German officers talking. One word that stuck out to me was, and forgive me if I butcher it, schatz. Would you mind telling me what it means," Harry asked hopefully.

Looking him over for a few moments, the older man answered, "It is an endearment. It means treasure or darling. The officers were likely talking about their wives or sweethearts."

Harry found that he rather liked what Cecily was calling him. He was finding that he was during his talk with Albert. Like maybe, just maybe, he going to be able to court Cecily.

"Come on you lugs, move! Unless you want to hear Scotland the Brave at full blast, get down the stairs quick march!" Charles hustled Herbert, Joseph, and James down the stairs.

Despite only having come up with the prank the night before it was running smoothly. He had gotten Will positively plastered in an attempt to get him to relax. His old friend was sure to have a headache this morning, Will was hilarious when drunk. At least he hadn't had to deal with one particular side effect of Will being drunk since Ada was not around.

While he was hustling the others down the stairs his co-conspirator Erik was fiddling with the victrola, putting the recording disk in place.

"So… what's he like once he wakes up," the younger man asked.

"Well, he's going to know I am involved immediately. I'm the only one who would dare," Charles replied before asking "Ready to run?"

"As I'll ever be. Go!" Erik flicked the switch on and the both of them bolted down the stairs as the skirling notes of Scotland the Brave began playing as loud as the victrola could.

They were sitting down at the table when they heard Will shout, "Charles, asal eich eich! Nuair a gheibh mi mo làmhan ort tha mi a' dol a dhùsgadh do mhuineal gun fheum!"

"Gaelic didn't sound like what I expected it to," Erik remarked as he served himself some eggs.

"One never expects a language to sound like a cat trying to cough up a hairball. I certainly didn't," Charles replied.

"I was expecting it to sound more like Welsh. Did either of you catch what Murdoch shouted," Erik asked Roland as they entered the room.

"Nope. While Welsh and Gaelic are from the same family of languages, they are from different branches," Roland answered.

"A speaker of Welsh and a speaker of Gaelic talking to each other in those languages would not be able to understand the other at all," Cecily continued, looking around the room.

Likely looking for Harold. I think I know what he's doing this morning! Charles thought with a smirk.

Everyone downstairs continued eating in silence. Soon an all too familiar walk came stomping down the stairs. No sooner had Will entered the room did he smack him around the head.

Massaging his head, Charles mumbled, "I may have deserved that."

"You definitely deserved that," Will snarled, sitting down in a chair across from him, in his pajamas, pouring himself some coffee.

"Damn, he stuck with his pajamas," Erik hissed under his breath.

"How are you feeling this morning Mr. Murdoch? I don't think I've ever seen someone drink quite so much before," Roland asked politely.

"I'd be a damned sight better if I knew where my clothes were," Will groaned as he drank some coffee.

As Erik snickered Roland answered, "Ah, I've dealt with a similar clothes thief. Be thankful he left you with your pajamas. He only left me with my skivvies."

"Laugh while you can, Mr. Sperling. Charles never lets coconspirators get away clean from his pranks," Will warned.

"Erik is the same way," Cecily cut in.

It was then that Erik decided to stir the pot by asking, "Why didn't you wear what we left for you? I don't know what those you that live north of the ruins of Hadrian's Wall wear underneath kilts."

Charles flicked a glance at Roland and Cecily who both choked on what they were drinking.

He almost missed Will's evil grin, "Mr. Sperling, you are quite lucky I chose to stay in my pajamas. Who know what you may have seen if I had tried to wear the kilt!"

Turner snorted and rolled his eyes. Moody and Fabrizio's eyes were the size of serving plates.

Both Lethbridge siblings shared Turner's amusement, cackling.

Confused Erik asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

However before Will could answer Cecily of all people enlightened her brother's friend, "What he's saying Erik, is that nothing is worn under kilts," in a completely matter of fact voice.

One could have heard a pin drop in the dining room as most stopped what they were doing. Except for Roland, who was munching on his toast, completely unsurprised by his sister's knowledge.

Spluttering and his face resembling a side of beef Erik managed to get out, "I see, and how do you know that?"

"Oh it's a Celtic wide thing. Kilts are worn in Scotland, Ireland, and Wales," she replied in the same calm tone.

"I'm getting you both," Erik muttered at both Roland and Charles himself.

"When pigs fly," Roland fired back.

It soon looked like peace was going to reign until Cecily asked, "Lieutenant, could you please pass the rolls?"

Charles could tell Will wasn't in the mood for bickering (even though she was being perfectly civil at the moment) when he muttered something clearly uncomplimentary in Spanish.

Here we go!

Cecily was clearly ready to play the rudeness game when she said something equally nasty back, eyes flashing.

"Both of your suggestions are equally physically difficult and I will not be providing any further translation," Roland answered giving his sister a look that promised that he would be asking questions at a later date.

"There been something I've been wondering. Could someone please tell me why she keeps on calling him Lieutenant," Fabrizio begged.

Roland again answered, "I believe Mr. Murdoch is a lieutenant in the Royal Navy Reserve. It was likely a guess on Cecily's part, but a good one."

Charles exchanged a glance with his friend. He knew Will was thinking the same thing.

Just what did Roland Lethbridge do for his nations navy that gave him access to such information?

After breakfast and everyone had calmed down, Roland watched as Erik began to pour over the ship plans. His friend was like a kid in a toy store.

To Murdoch and Lightoller he said, "Erik's going to be absorbed by those for hours. Not likely to talk very much unless you speak to him first. I'll probably have to remind him to eat and make him sleep tonight. You two can do what you wish in the meantime."

Both volunteered to stay with Erik in case he had any questions about the ship itself.

Most of the rest of the officers along with Chief Turner and Fabrizio had headed out to the museums. Harry on the other hand was still somewhere in the house, along with Cecily, Aunt Mina, and Randall.

Roland made his way to the library and upon arrival, an odd sight crossed his eyes.

Harry and Cecily were sitting at one of the tables with several books sprawled in front of them. His sister was clearly enjoying herself judging by the way her hands were moving. Harry was just watching Cecily with this shy smile on his face. They were sitting close together, too close.

Aunt Mina was lounging in a nearby chair, lazily reading a book when she noticed him. In a louder than strictly necessary voice she called out, "Roland I thought you'd be with Erik."

"I am no longer needed. He's going over the ship plans. I would just get in the way. What's going on here," he inquired.

"Harold overheard something from a German captain that had attended the inquiry. Unfortunately it was in German. Cecily offered to translate for him and now she got it into her head to teach him, the silly girl," his aunt snorted.

"If any of us is going to teach someone German, Cecily would be the one to do it. She speaks it the best out of all of us," Roland replied watching the pair stack the books on the table.

The way their hands were moving, only just touching, yet not quite. He was missing something and did not like it in the slightest.

There was still one of the beginning books out. Roland saw the way Cecily looked at their old friend puzzling through a line, the smile she had on her face, and the way Harry caught her gaze and returned her smile.

Aunt Mina coughed, "Why don't you and I head outside? This is the first decent spring day!"

"You're hiding something aren't you," Roland asked with narrowed eyes.

"You've caught me nephew. I want to go shopping and guess who just volunteered himself to come along with me," his aunt suggested with an evil grin on her face.

Being around his aunt whilst she was shopping was dangerous. Roland shuddered as he was dragged from the room.

Fabrizio had spent much of the morning and afternoon prowling around the museums with three of the officers and Mr. Turner. At the moment they were at the Museum of Natural History. He'd enjoyed seeing all of the animals from North America. The turkey he found to be particularly amusing.

Fabrizio had only just met up with other four to discuss lunch, when an unfamiliar asked, "Excuse us, are you two Michael Turner and Fabrizio Ferretti?"

Turning around he saw two unfamiliar men in suits, each with a briefcase. He did not like the vibe they gave off.

"And who might ye be," Turner asked in a low growl, his accent thickening. He towered over the both of them.

The younger of the two men spoke first, "We are here on behalf of a mutual acquaintance."

The older one continued with, "I do not doubt you know who I am referring to. And what he can offer should you cooperate with what he wants. I have been authorized to make you gentlemen an offer."

Before he or Turner could reply, Boxhall stepped forward snarling, "I am going to stop you right there. This is a clear attempt at bribery. If you continue to bother them, I will be certain to mention this in my testimony on Monday. Now clear off!"

Once the men were gone, Fabrizio said, "I did not expect the bribe attempt to be so out in the open."

"The uncle is desperate. It was an off of money," Turner muttered.

"I'm surprised they even bothered with me," he blurted.

"You witnessed the murder just like Mr. Murdoch, Miss Lethbridge and myself. God alone knows what they'll try to bribe them with," Turner replied.

"What could they bribe Cecily with? It's not like she needs the money," Fabrizio wondered aloud.

She had access to more than enough money. What could Patrick Hearst's uncle offer her that would even tempt her?

Brimming with energy, Cecily could not even start to go to sleep. Shoving the covers off the bed, and tying her dark blue robe over her nightgown, she made her way for the indoor pool.

She knew she was taking a risk doing this. There were quite a few men around that were unfamiliar with her nighttime habit.

Once Cecily was at the pool, she stripped off both her robe and her nightgown and cannonballed into the pool to start swimming laps. Thankfully her hair was in a braid.

She had been swimming for a while when she heard a muttered "Dear God." Looking up while doing a backstroke Cecily saw Harry, whose eyes were the size of saucers and tracking up and down her form!

Diving under the water, Cecily swam in the opposite direction. When she broke the water up to her shoulders, Harry already had his back to her, and apologizing in their mother tongue.

"Harry, mae gennych ddeg eiliad i egluro pam eich bod chi yma," she told her suitor.

"Cecily I swear I had no idea you were in here. God's teeth I didn't even know you had a pool. I was walking before I went to bed," he replied before asking, "Don't you have a swimming costume or something of that nature?"

"I do. I just didn't feel like putting it on. And at this time of night, I am usually the only one out and about. You can turn around, I'm mostly under water," she suggested.

Harry half turned around, apparently decided he could still see too much and kept his back to her. He answered, "Christ, you'd best start keeping your clothes on. None of us are sleeping well at the moment, imagine if it had been Charles to find you here? Or worse Will."

She did not even bother to stop the gagging noise that erupted from her. Cecily made her way to the edge of the pool she asked, "Could you stay turned around please? My nightgown and robe are over there."

"I think I might never open my eyes again if you keep this up," he answered.

Once she had dried herself off and tugged her nightgown over her head, Cecily inquired teasingly, "Am I that ghastly a sight Harry?"

"Hardly. But I don't deserve to see you like that. Might I escort you back to your room?"

The unspoken "Yet" hung in the air as they walked up the stairs.

When they got to her room Cecily murmured, "Well, this is my stop."

"Indeed it is," Harry replied.

It had already been quite the evening. She wanted to show that her feelings had not changed despite the awkward event.

Standing on her toes, due to the rather large height difference, Cecily gave him a quick kiss on the mouth, saying when she pulled away, "I'm not mad, just a little bit awkward. Try and get some sleep."

As he walked way, Cecily thought she heard him mutter, "Like I'm going to get any sleep after that!"

Will had started writing his letter to Ada. Sleeping right now was not an option. Herbert, Joseph, James, and Fabrizio had gone off to bed. Charles and Michael were still up and in the sitting room with him either reading or playing solitaire. Harold was off on a walk before bed.

Speaking of the Welsh sailor, he just walked in to the sitting room. He had a silly grin on his face, reminiscent of Charles when he had gotten away with mischief.

Just as he had that thought, Charles himself had that identical grin and could hardly seem to contain himself. His friend asked, "What have you been up to Harold?"

Before the younger man could answer, Turner suggested, "Judging by the grin on his face, I think he's seen Miss Lethbridge."

Putting his pencil down Will stated, looking Lowe in the eye, "I'm more interested in hearing exactly what he's seen."

Paling Harold answered, "Would you believe me if I said it was completely accidental?"

"Nope," Will snorted. Charles shared his disbelief and snorted as well.

"In his defense sirs, this is a good sized house. Maybe he got lost," Turner posited, playing devil's advocate.

"Then he should have returned to his room posthaste," Will answered.

"Which he clearly did," Turner replied spreading his hands.

"Judging by his red face, he clearly took an alternate route," Charles smirked.

"With all that private security about, I don't think anything potentially permanent happened sir," Turner suggested.

"To her perhaps," Will answered eyes narrowing at Harold.

"My clothes stayed on sir," he replied defensively.

"But did your trousers move at all," Charles sniggered before yelping, "Ouch! Will, what was that for?"

"I got a telegram from Sylvie as well. Telling me to employ any means necessary including physical to make sure you behaved yourself. She knows you too well." Out of the corner of his eye Will saw movement and said, "Sit back down Mr. Lowe. I'm not through with you just yet."

Lowe, irritated that his attempt at escape was foiled, plopped back down on the couch he'd been lying across the length of it.

Will then noticed Charles studying Harold. Just before the younger man was completely relaxed, Charles spoke, "Wait." A dawning look spread across his face, "You did not." He stood chuckling and walked over to a seat across from the couch the Welshman was on. Resting his chin on his laced hands he crowed, "You. Saw. Her. Naked."

Sitting up ramrod straight, turning bright red, "I did not!"

"Oh yes you bloody did! Now which area is she particularly blessed in, above or below the waist?" Charles sounded like Christmas and his birthday had come early. Harold looked towards him for assistance.

"Good Lord Lights, he's probably never seen a naked woman before. Let him enjoy himself for a bit before you start interrogating him," Will drawled. If Charles went too far, he'd reign him in.

Looking pleadingly at Turner who said, "If this is going to turn into a story telling competition, I'm staying out of it!"

Glad that someone was going to leave him alone Lowe said, "Thank you Mr. Turner!"

Charles rolled his eyes saying, "Bugger him then. Now spill it Mr. Lowe!"

Rising to his feet, in a deadly calm voice, with his accent thickening, "Let me make one thing abundantly clear: I did not go looking to find Cecily naked. I was walking around the house before bed. I heard splashing. I was surprised to discover that there was an indoor pool in the house. I went to check it out. I was caught unawares when I saw Cecily without her clothes on. And that's it! You're not getting any more! If you'll excuse me Mr. Murdoch, I'm going to bed! Harold stalked off muttering in his native tongue, "Ffycin blino uwch swyddogion!" and slammed the door to his room.

"Was it something I said," Charles asked with false innocence, "I was just joking around.

"And that's enough whiskey for you tonight," Will said putting the lid back on the bottle.

A/N 2: This was a fun chapter to write! Roland is starting to lose the idiot ball. But not quite. Looking forward to seeing what you all think!

Scottish Gaelic: Charles, asal eich eich! Nuair a gheibh mi mo làmhan ort tha mi a' dol a dhùsgadh do mhuineal gun fheum!"- Charles you horse's ass! When I get my hands on you, I'm going to wring your useless neck!

Welsh-

Harry, mae gennych ddeg eiliad i egluro pam eich bod chi yma- Harry you have ten seconds explain why you are in here.

Ffycin blino uwch swyddogion- F**king annoying senior officers