Chapter 11
Jock
Somewhere in the Atlantic
April 12, 1912

The orchestra had just finished their Brahms set when Wallace nodded knowingly at Jock. "Go fetch Georges and enjoy the rest of your evening," Wallace said to him with a wink.

"And why does Jock get the rest of the evening off?" Teddy, the pianist, said, hiding a smile. "Shouldn't we all have the rest of the evening off and let the youngest play for us while we dine in first class?"

Wallace rolled his eyes but smiled. "We'll all get our turns to dine in first class, dear children. Your time will come, Teddy."

All the men laughed as Jock was excused, having to restrain himself from running as he headed back to the second class rooms. Once he had summoned Georges upstairs, Jock knocked eagerly on Nellie's door.

Nellie was in her finest dress, her hair pinned up carefully, and a pair of black gloves that reached her elbows adorning her arms. Callen stood next to her, dressed in the tails they'd had him fitted for earlier that morning. Although the three of them weren't dressed nearly as nicely as the passengers they'd be joining for dinner, they would all certainly pass.

"I can't be gone too long," Nellie said, taking his arm as they made their way up The Grand Staircase. "Isla is teething and only seems to want me at the moment. I was surprised she let me leave her with Leana just now."

"Stop worrying," Jock said for what felt like the thousandth time on this voyage. "There's a reason Da paid Leana to accompany us on this trip."

Callen grunted behind them, pulling at his collar. "Stepma," he said, "Must I really come with you? I'd rather go downstairs to steerage and play cards with Mr. Ryan again."

"Yes, you must," Nellie said. "Besides, I think it best to give Mr. Ryan some space for now, otherwise he may grow tired of you and not invite you for another game."

Callen pouted. "He won't grow tired of me. He's far too nice."

"Is this Mr. Ryan one of the blokes you were playing cards with this morning?" Jock asked over his shoulder.

"Yes," Callen said, jogging to catch up with them until they were all walking side by side. "Stepma was talking to him this morning and she let him take me for a game."

Jock glanced at Nellie, smiling brightly. "Ah, I see."

Nellie smacked his arm before leaning in towards his ear. "Don't tease me about things like that in front of Callen," she hissed. "Especially so soon after his da died."

Jock's smile immediately disappeared and he nodded solemnly, understanding what she was alluding to. Just as Callen was about to ask what they were talking about, they came to a beautiful set of wooden doors that were opened by a pair of handsome stewards. They were immersed in the first class dining room, where Georges, Teddy, and Wallace were playing in the corner with no audience at the moment.

"Where is everyone?" Callen asked, looking around the empty room.

"Probably upstairs in the first class lounge, waiting for dinner to begin," Jock said. "Come, we'll act as first class passengers and join in on their mindless chatter."

Jock led Nellie up the stairs and he felt her grip tighten on his arm. "Must we?" she whispered as they made it to the top landing of The Grand Staircase. "We don't know anyone and I already feel so out of place."

Jock scoffed, patting her arm. "Will you give me some credit? We're not entirely imposters up here, I'm part of the ship's band! I'd be offended if they didn't recognize me by now."

"Mind your manners," Nellie said to Callen who was lurking behind them. "Don't speak unless spoken to. These people have very strict rules and we must follow them if you don't want to be laughed at."

Much to their surprise, instead of being offended at being lectured by his stepmother, Callen puffed out his chest and nodded. Jock hid a smile at his nephew's reaction, knowing full well that what Callen hated the most was being made a fool, especially by adults.

Jock couldn't help but marvel but the sight before them as they made their way into the crowd. Men in perfectly trimmed suits and women adorned in family jewels milled around the lounge, smiling happily and laughing in conversation. Rachmaninoff was floating up from the trio in the dining room below which added a dreamlike quality to the atmosphere of the room. It was true that Titanic was above all the grandeur he had experienced on other ships. He even saw John Jacob Astor mingling with a handful of other filthy rich American socialites he had seen on the covers of the American newspapers he read.

"Mr. Hume?"

Jock turned to see Caledon Hockley behind them, his young fiancee on his arm. The old hag who had been with them on the first class decks a few days earlier stuck up her nose at the sight of them. Both women had their hair tied up in fashionable coils, wearing ornate headpieces and dresses that shimmered every time they moved. Mr. Hockley blended in with the rest of the first class men in his white tie and his hair perfectly slicked back, not a hair out of place.

"I thought it was you," Mr. Hockley said. "We've so enjoyed your playing the last couple of evenings."

"You're too kind," Jock said, feeling himself standing a bit taller.

"And what are you all doing in first class?" the older woman, Mrs. Bukater, said. "It seems you have a knack for getting around this ship any way you please."

Nellie stiffened beside him, but he squeezed her arm in reassurance. "Members of the orchestra are allowed to dine in first class," he said coolly. "You remember my sister and nephew."

"Ah, yes," Mr. Hockley said with a smile. He offered his hand to Nellie who took it shyly. "Mrs. Milroy, correct? And young Callen!"

Callen shook the man's hand with vigor. "Who are you dining with tonight?" Mr. Hockley said to Jock when they had dropped hands.

"No one," Jock replied, putting on his best smile. "We came to eat by ourselves."

"Nonsense," Mr. Hockley said. "You must dine with us! We've made quite the dinner party the last couple of evenings, haven't we, Rose?"

Mr. Hockley's fiancee gave a very weak smile and slight nod of the head.

"Are you sure?" Jock said, eyeing Mrs. Bukater who was not hiding the fact that she was displeased with her future son-in-law's offer.

"Of course," Mr. Hockley answered before Mrs. Bukater had the opportunity to speak. "You will be our guests of honor for the evening!"

Jock couldn't help but grin as he followed Mr. Hockley back downstairs to the dining room with the rest of the first class passengers as dinner was announced. He had fully expected the three of them to dine alone in a corner near the orchestra, but with Mr. Hockley's invitation, there was no doubt they would be dining with some of the richest people in the world.

Mr. Hockley brought them to a large table with a handful of other names Jock recognized: Lady Duff-Gordon, Colonel Archibald Gracie, and Margaret Brown.

"And this is James Crawley and his son, Patrick," Mr. Hockley said when they had introductions around the table. The older gentleman nodded his head ever so slightly at them while his son, perhaps a little older than Jock, barely glanced their direction. Jock followed Mr. Hockley's lead for where to sit: keeping Callen on one side of him while Mrs. Bukater sat on the other. Jock watched as Nellie sat on the other side of Callen, Mr. Hockley sitting beside her as well, smiling brightly.

"Welcome to first class," the American socialite, Mrs. Brown said, raising her glass to Jock as the first course was served.

"I'm not entirely a stranger to this lifestyle," Jock said as cheerfully as he could. "We do well for ourselves in Dumfries when we're not surrounded by all this glamor on Titanic."

"In Dumfries, really?" the young Mr. Crawley said, almost laughing. "I find that surprising."

"Patrick," his father scolded before turning to Jock. "Are you ever in Yorkshire?"

Jock shook his head. "I don't get to the English countryside much, mostly just London and Liverpool."

"Pity," the elder Mr. Crawley said. "Well, if you ever are in Yorkshire, do let us know. We're always looking for quality music out in the country."

"I wouldn't consider that abbey your son is to inherit 'the country,'" Lady Duff-Gordon said with a smirk. "It's one of the most magnificent pieces of architecture I've seen in all of Britain."

"It's the only thing worth looking at in Yorkshire," the younger Mr. Crawley said, taking a long sip of his wine.

"What about you, Mrs. Milroy? Do you get out of Dumfries much?"

Nellie nearly choked on the oyster she was eating, apparently surprised to find herself at the center of attention surrounded by many well known people. She glanced at Mr. Hockley who had asked the question and then to Jock, as if pleading for help. Jock merely shrugged, motioning for her to speak.

"Not as much as I would like," Nellie said at last, the oyster's shell clanking noisily onto her plate. "This trip is the farthest away I've been from home."

"I'm sure your father is very much looking forward to your return, then," Mrs. Bukater said to Callen, a forced smile on her lips. Callen glanced at Jock, worry stretched across his face. He must have been remembering Nellie's warning to only speak when spoken to, but this was a conversation topic none of them had been expecting.

"My husband died a few months ago," Nellie said, her voice barely above a whisper.

The table went deathly silent. Mrs. Bukater's face turned so red it almost matched the color of her hair. Jock couldn't help but notice Mr. Hockley gently placed a hand on Nellie's arm. Miss Bukater, who had been silent this entire time and barely eaten anything, suddenly turned towards Callen. "I'm so sorry to hear that," she said, her voice so gentle it was more pleasing than the music the orchestra was playing in the background. "My mother and I lost my father a few years ago as well. How terrible to lose your father at such a young age."

Several people around the table nodded, giving sympathetic comments towards Nellie and Callen. Jock took notice of Mr. Hockley whispering something in Nellie's ear, making her smile. Strangely, Miss Bukater seemed oblivious to her fiance's flirtatious behavior. She turned to Jock, as if remembering for the first time he was there. "You're a good man to bring your sister and nephew along."

Jock smiled at this, placing a hand on Callen's shoulder. "It's my pleasure. This lad here keeps things exciting when I'm not playing."

"I'm sure that must get rather boring," she said with a slight roll of the eyes. "Lord knows why people find our lives in first class so exciting. Trust me, if you have one dinner like this you'll know you're not missing anything. It's the same ordeal night after night."

Jock and Callen both shifted uncomfortably in their seats. This young woman looked more like a teenager to Jock, closer to Callen's age than his own. He had expected lighthearted conversation amongst these passengers, not a lecture.

"I think you all have a rather fascinating life," Callen said, taking a large bite of the fish that had been placed before him. "If I had money like you all, I'd sail all over the world and see all the things I've read about in books."

Miss Bukater gave a laugh, but not a joyful one; one that was full of spite. "You would think that's what we'd all do, but we prefer to remain in our own social circles and visit the same summer cottages year after year."

A change of conversation was desperately needed. "How did you meet Mr. Hockley?" Jock asked.

This was apparently the wrong way to change the subject with Miss Bukater. He watched her left hand, the one with the extraordinarily large engagement ring, clench into a fist, causing it to clatter loudly on her nearby plate.

"Everything alright there, Rose?" Mrs. Brown asked, her eyes large and suspicious from across the table. "Or is the fish trying to jump back into the sea?"

The table burst into laughter, causing Miss Bukater's face to flush nearly the same color as her mother's earlier. "Everything's just fine," she said quietly. "Thank you." She quickly turned back to Jock and began to cut her fish a bit more aggressively than what was necessary. "We met in Pittsburgh last summer," she said, barely spitting the words out between clenched teeth. "His father and my father used to do business together before they both passed away."

"I heard he's the heir to a steel manufacturing company," Callen said. Jock nudged him, reminding him of Nellie's earlier warning. But at the same time, Jock was impressed with his nephew's research of the people surrounding them at the table.

"Oh, yes, he's very rich, much to Mother's delight," Miss Bukater continued. "If J.J. wasn't on board, we'd probably be the richest ones on the ship."

Jock did the best to navigate the rest of the conversation in a more cheerful direction, commenting on the fair weather of the voyage thus far and the quality of the food in first class. It was apparent Miss Bukater grew tired of him after this, for she stopped responding to his questions and Jock had to make conversation with Callen for the rest of the evening. Nellie was engrossed in conversation with Mr. Hockley, laughing brightly and returning his flirtatious smiles. As Jock talked with Callen, he kept a close eye on Mr. Hockley. Miss Bukater had not gone out of her way to make her fiance out to be of good character, and when a rich man showed interest in a girl of lesser rank, it generally only meant one thing. He was relieved when the dinner concluded and several of the men began to stand.

"Would you care to join us for a smoke, Mr. Hume?" the older Mr. Crawley asked.

It was a tempting offer, but he had promised to help Wallace set up a place for the orchestra to perform in the first class restaurant for breakfast the following morning. He was even more relieved when he saw Mr. Hockley leave his sister's side to kiss Miss Bukater on the cheek.

"Goodnight, my darling," he said. "I'll see you in the morning."

Miss Bukater didn't answer, not even acknowledging that she had heard him. Mr. Hockley was either used to her standoffish behavior or didn't pay enough attention to notice, merely shaking Jock's hand before walking away with the rest of the men. When he was out of sight and the women around the table resumed their happy chatter, Miss Bukater suddenly got up and fled the room.

"She's a funny one," Callen said, looking after her.

"Aye, I feel sorry for her," Jock said, coming to Nellie's chair and helping her stand.

"I don't," Nellie said, having overheard their comments. "She has no idea how lucky she is, to be rich and engaged to a man like Mr. Hockley. I'd do anything to have Callen's father back."

At times like these, Jock wasn't sure if his sister really meant what she was saying, as if she was just trying to comfort her stepson without truth in her words. Their father, of course, had been pleased with Nellie's marriage to the manager of the best hotel in Dumfries. She had worked there as a receptionist after escaping work in the glove mill with Mary and had been lucky enough to catch the eye of Callen Milroy Sr. He was a widow, left with his son and the entire hotel to manage by himself. While Jock never doubted Callen Sr. and Nellie had cared for one another, there was uncertainty if the marriage was founded in love or convenience. Nellie needed a husband to get her out of their father's house while Callen Sr. needed a homemaker for himself and a mother for his young son.

"Let's just keep her in our prayers," Jock said, looking back towards The Grand Staircase where Miss Bukater had fled. "Something tells me she's more than what meets the eye."


I TOLD YOU I LOVED DOWNTON ABBEY and I could NOT resist a little crossover. If you get it, you get it. :)