Chapter 47
Mary
Dumfries
April 18, 1912

It had been three days since the news of Titanic's sinking and yet still no news of Jock, Nellie, or her children. Mary had all but secluded herself in her room, spending most of the day in and out of sleep, both from the exhaustion of her early pregnancy and the fear of knowing Jock might be gone.

Her mother had shooed her younger siblings from the house during the day, either by sending them to school or giving the miniscule errands to run. It left the house eerily quiet, which Mary took advantage of by sleeping the days away to try and avoid reality the best she could. It was nearly three o'clock in the afternoon when Mary woke from a light tapping on her door.

"Mary?"

Her mother's face popped through the crack of the door. "Mary, dear, you need to get up."

Mary propped herself up on one elbow, using the back of her hand to rub away the remaining sleep from her eyes.

"One of the neighbors just heard that the Humes got a telegram," her mother said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You need to go over there and demand to know what's happened to Jock."

Mary could feel her heart begin to pound. "What makes you think Mrs. Hume would invite me in? She hates me even more than Andrew! They've been praying since the moment Jock and I met that he would forget about me."

Her mother took the brush from Mary's bedside and began to brush Mary's dark curls, plaiting it and fashioning it into a stylish bun on the back of her head. "Perhaps one of the girls will answer the door and Mrs. Hume won't be home." Her mother paused. "I'm sure if you told them about the baby it would soften them up."

Mary recoiled at her words. "I won't use Jock's baby to bait his family. Once I find out what's happened to him, I'll make a plan."

Her mother stood, returning the brush to the table and taking a dress out from the nearby wardrobe, draping it over the footboard of the bed. "You better hurry and get to their house before teatime," she said. "This baby won't wait around for its father. The sooner you find out what happened to Jock, the sooner we can move forward."

It wasn't long before Mary found herself nearly running down the streets of Dumfries, an umbrella clutched in one hand as she avoided the typical Scottish spring rain. The Humes lived a few streets up in one of the nicest houses in town. Mary had only been in Jock's house a few times, usually when Andrew and Mrs. Hume were gone. It was evident Jock's home life was nothing like the beautiful brick house he lived in, choosing instead to move into the much smaller and cramped Costin home.

When she arrived at the house, she hesitated, letting her hand rest on the stone banister that led up to the front door. Her heart was still pounding and she wasn't sure if it was the fear of seeing Jock's stepmother or finally learning the truth about what happened to Jock.

Her hands shook as she took the small knocker on the door and tapped it lightly. The maid answered the door, a scowl evident on her face when she saw who was knocking. "Good afternoon," she said coldly. "Can I help you?"

"Is Mrs. Hume at home?" Mary asked, doing her best to hide the shaking in her voice.

The maid pursed her lips. "She's taking tea."

Mary had to bite her tongue. "Would you please let her know I'm here? It's a matter of urgency."

Rather than letting Mary in, the maid had her wait outside on the steps. There was no awning to protect her from the rain and she huddled by the door, gripping the umbrella as tight as her hands would allow to try and ease her shaking. The door suddenly flew open again, almost making Mary fall into the entranceway. Alice Hume looked down her nose at Mary. She was elegantly dressed with her hair pinned up in curls, but she looked tired. She did not carry sorrow on her face which made Mary optimistic. Perhaps Jock was alive after all!

"What do you want?"

Mary ignored her biting tone. "I'm here to see if you have any news of Jock. I heard Mr. Hume has gone to Liverpool to find out what happened."

"That's just like your family – lurking into other people's private business," Mrs. Hume scoffed.

Mrs. Hume went to shut the door but Mary stopped her, nearly causing her fingers to be smashed in the doorframe. "Please, have you heard anything?" she begged. "I'm not sure if any of the papers know what they're talking about, and with the rumors going around town–"

"Go away, Miss Costin, and leave us be," Mrs. Hume said. She removed Mary's hand and quickly shut the door, the bolt being locked from inside. Mary stared blankly for a moment before slowly descending down the steps. There was hardly anyone out and about due to the rain, which Mary was grateful for as there were no witnesses to that horrible interaction. She looked down the street and took notice of the old school building that both Jock and Mary had attended as children. Students were leaving for the day, holding their books and jackets over their heads as they raced home. One of the schoolmasters stood at the doorway, waving them goodbye. Mary couldn't remember his name, but she recognized him as the teacher who gave Jock violin lessons away from his father. Jock had always remained close to him, making an effort to stop by the school whenever he was in Dumfries. Perhaps he would have information from the Humes…

"Excuse me, sir," she said as she entered the schoolyard. "Do you have a moment?"

The schoolteacher glanced at her over his rimmed glasses. "Are you here to pick up a student?"

He ushered her inside and she was grateful for the opportunity to get out of the rain, not that the school was much drier on the inside. "I am Jock Hume's fiancee," she said, shaking out her umbrella.

The smile faded from the man's face. "Oh, my dear, I'm so sorry. What a dreadful business."

"I know you and Jock have been close since he was a boy," she said. "Please, have you heard anything about what happened to him?"

The schoolteacher looked at her for a long time before leading her into a nearby classroom and having her sit at one of the small desks. "I spoke to Mrs. Hume this morning," he said, closing the door. "Mr. Hume went to Liverpool to talk to The White Star Line. Apparently, Titanic's entire band perished, playing 'Nearer My God to Thee' until the very end."

Mary sat in silence. The schoolteacher was still, sweat glistening on his balding head as he studied her carefully.

"Thank you," she said softly. This room suddenly seemed oppressive, the sound or the rain dripping from the roof echoing all around them. She stood slowly, the water from her still-wet umbrella rolling off and wetting her skirts.

"Are you alright, lass?"

She nodded. "I'll be on my way."

She stumbled when she left the schoolyard, nearly falling into the street. She dropped her umbrella as the metal gate swung closed behind her, not even looking where she was going as she began to walk.

She wasn't crying. Mary never cried easily. Rather, people regarded her as cold and emotionless because she rarely showed her true feelings. Jock was the only person she had opened herself up to. But the schoolteacher's words of "perished" rang in her ears over and over.

Surely that's not how Jock had died. Jock could never perish. Jock would have chosen his death, not fallen unwillingly into its hands.

With no protection from the rain, her skirts grew heavy and began to drag on the ground while her hair fell loose from its bun, falling into her face. It wasn't until she reached the doorstep of her house did she realize how soaked through she really was.

"Mary!"

The door flew open and her mother ran out with an umbrella, quickly getting her inside. "What on earth are you doing? A woman in your condition should not be out unprotected in this weather!"

Mary remained silent as her mother brought her to the washroom upstairs, undressing her and heating water for a bath. Mary could only think of Jock. What had been the last thing she had said to him? She brought a hand to her belly submerged in the bath. What about her son? What would happen now that his father was dead?

"What did you find out from the Humes?"

Her mother broke the silence. She was sitting on the edge of the wash basin, scrubbing soap into Mary's hair like she was a child again. Mary brought her knees to her chest and closed her eyes.

"Jock's dead."

It was hard to hear her say it out loud for the first time. Her heart seemed to stop for a moment, only to start pounding so loud it was ringing in her ears. Her mother stopped scrubbing, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Our dear Jock," her mother said quietly, holding back tears.

Mary remained stone-faced. "I guess I'll need to tell the Humes now about the baby."

Her mother pulled a nearby chair to the edge of the wash basin, sitting in it while she rinsed the remaining soap from Mary's hair. "Didn't you tell them when they told you he was dead?"

Mary stood, shivering as the cold air surrounded her, quickly wrapping herself in a towel as she stepped out of the basin. "No. Mrs. Hume didn't tell me anything. She made it seem like they didn't know anything before she shooed me away. I only found out because I asked Jock's old schoolteacher."

Her mother scowled. "What a dreadful woman. They just can't accept that Jock loves you."

"Loved me."

The words hung in the air, making the room seem even colder and darker. Her mother embraced her. "You get some rest, my darling. In the morning we'll need to start making plans."

Mary nodded, quietly slipping past her mother and to her room. It wasn't until she closed the door did she finally let the tears fall. She let her towel fall away and climbed into her bed, pulling the sheets over her head before letting the sobs at last break free.

No one could know how scared she was. When Jock was alive, she'd been thrilled to know she was carrying his child. But now that he was gone, she was terrified. They were engaged and had been publicly handfasting, but the reality was that Mary was unmarried and expecting. Her child would be considered a bastard.

She buried her face into her pillow and began to cry harder, praying her mother and siblings wouldn't hear.

Her mother was right. They needed to come up with a plan. Not just for Mary's sake, but for the baby's sake too.