"Just where does that daughter of yours get to?" The Countess of Rothes sipped tea delicately, aiming the question at Ruth DeWitt Bukater over a cream scone and tea in the Palm Court Cafe. "I fail to see her for much more than mere moments at dinner."
"Oh, she prefers to take the air on the boat deck and becomes entirely wrapped up in her reading; she studied Latin, so prefers to keep up with that." Ruth smiled politely.
"What a good idea, to take the air on the boat deck. I do feel the need to catch up on my gossip. Will you join me, ladies?"
Molly Brown piped in, in her broad and booming way. She had caught them at tea and no amount of excuses had sent her away, and so the chatter had grown to be rather rude and boisterous for Ruth's taste; she did not wish to be seen at the same table as such a woman. Rumour had it that she and her husband had separated and had no time for a woman like her to be in association with her or Rose.
"Of course." The Countess agreed, knowing that it was rude to turn down an invitation, no matter how much she wished not to attend, and so off they went.
"So…" Jack started, as hesitance emerged. It was obvious that he wished for the conversation to continue, perhaps in a way that he did not know how it could. He paused to try to take stock and understand his emotions. After a few seconds, a pause long enough to be noticed, but not so long it was uncomfortable, he succeeded. "So, Rose, you've heard about my travels and childhood. What's your story?"
Rose smiled, but it faded as she shook her head. "It's a long one."
Jack grinned that lopsided grin of his. "You got somewhere to go?"
Rose chuckled at that. "No, I am afraid that I don't."
Heeding his motion to continue, Rose began to tell her story.
"Cal, Mother, and I are returning from a shopping trip in France, well an engagement celebration, really. Mother insisted that Cal take us here so I could get the latest fashions to wear while on his arm at the upcoming events," Rose's voice had taken on a nasal tone that Jack could only assume was a none-too-flattering imitation of her mother's. "Before that was Rome and Vienna. It was in Paris that he proposed the marriage. I suppose it was scandalous for us to travel together before that but it was truly inevitable that we should wind up engaged to be married."
She paused for a breath. In the space that followed, Jack asked another question. "How did you meet Cal?"
She grimaced slightly, her nose wrinkling.
"Well, while I was at finishing school learning how to walk, talk, eat, dress, and everything else, Mother arranged for Cal's father, Mr. Nathan Hockley to learn of my unwed, unpromised state at the grand age of sixteen. They contrived a dinner meeting so that the four of us could 'meet'. I felt like I was just on display like some new artefact in a museum. I didn't care about Cal or Mr. Hockley. That was just after my cotillion, which was attended by just about every member of the Philadelphia Society. Mother only thought of the family name becoming associated with 'Hockley Steel.' I begged her to not make me do it. I wanted to go to a university and learn more about...well, about everything. About life, and the world. But she wouldn't hear anything of it. We had quite a row, let me tell you. Ever since my father died…"
They continued walking, as Rose paused awkwardly, a little embarrassed by how much she had said, fiddling at her purse straps unconsciously. Jack had been watching her with amusement. He was getting quite the tale. She had alternated between talking intently to him and seeming to be off in her own, secluded world. The other thing that struck him was the way she never used her mother's name, instead opting to use the term "mother" almost as a swear word occasionally.
The statement about her father, on the other hand, seemed to throw her some. She visibly calmed herself, squelched her grief, and steeled herself to continue. The last part of her astounding tale was certainly meant for Jack, as she looked into his eyes as she spoke.
"Since he died, my mother and I have quarrelled frequently. He was the one who kept the family going most of the time. Mother changed after his death, too. She grew…detached. We barely know each other any more but I have grown to enjoy the distance. It seems to suit me better that way. I grew to enjoy my own company and thrive on the loneliness that came with it. It changed when Cal and I grew closer."
This time, she was the one who took stock of the situation, glancing around at the other strolling passengers. No one else had seemed to notice the baring of her soul. She turned away from Jack's stare and began walking again.
He seemed lost in his thoughts for a moment or two until she interrupted his brief ruminations and sounded out of breath with distress at how much she had shared with him. He didn't seem to mind one bit though.
"Well, that's enough about me. I want to hear a little more about you. How did you come to be travelling aboard Titanic?"
Jack smiled. "You do want a long story, don't you?"
As she nodded, he paused to perhaps organise his thoughts.
"Well, after my parents died, I just couldn't stay in Wisconsin. I'd always heard about the great life in 'California'," he said with an obvious drawl, "so I headed out that way-well, I tried to, at least. The only job I could get at first was helping to harvest corn. Husking corn has to be one of the worst ways to spend a day."
He shuddered a little at the memory. Rose reached out to touch his hand, calming him, and encouraging him to continue. Once he got past the initial shock of feeling her skin touching his, he did so.
"Going west was next to impossible, so I just went whichever direction my feet took me as long as it was onwards. I worked south down to Kansas, where I spent some time harvesting wheat. I spent almost a year in a little town helping set up an oil refinery before I found a ride headed west. That got me to Wyoming, where I spent some time just walking around the Rocky Mountains. I lodged with a guy named Hank there. He had some big ideas about finding gold and getting rich. I signed on to help and that got me to California. After a few months of panning for gold and finding nothing, I skipped out on him and headed back north."
He glanced over Rose's face for signs of boredom, but she was very much interested in his life, nodding at the appropriate times. She seemed to be experiencing it vicariously through him, smiling at his dalliances along the way.
They stopped their walk and leaned against a railing. The majority of the afternoon was gone. It seemed only minutes had passed since lunch, but the position of the sun and Jack's stomach let them know time had not stopped while they conversed despite the way she brought his world to a standstill. They both ignored the incessant growl, for neither of them wished to part.
Both lightly chuckling, he continued his autobiographical narrative.
"I stopped in Oregon and spent some time there as a logger. It was hard work, but I think the foreman knew my story and took pity on me because he practically handed me the job and enough money to get some clothes and some food. I never seemed to have to work quite as hard as some of the other guys. Then I worked on a squid boat in Monterey but then the work dried up so I went down to Los Angeles, to the pier in Santa Monica."
He paused longer than normal here because Rose looked like she had something to say.
"Is that where we shall go, to begin my lessons of becoming very much like a man?"
At that moment, the horizon was a full orange, the dying light of the sun still softly supreme to the ship's lights. She turned to face him, a new light glimmering in her eyes, her auburn locks ablaze in the early evening glow. She looked ethereal.
"Of course." Jack nodded.
"Now how about you tell me a little more about my learning to become a gentleman? I think we may be against the clock here, what time is dinner?"
Rose blinked, pausing for thought. She glanced up the length of Jack, he was tall and lean and his attire didn't quite fit him right. "We could start with posture, I have another idea first but, she trailed off for just a moment, ''Perhaps, you could tell me the rest of your story of your travels as we tend to your attire?"
''My attire?'' Jack quirked a brow, glancing downwards at his clothing, apparently failing to see a fault. "What's wrong with my clothes?"
"Nothing as a member of third class. For dinner this evening, you could not pass. You must also offer your arm to a lady if you are to escort her someplace."
Jack smiled, straightening his posture and offering his arm to her. Slowly she slipped it inside his and they began a slow walk towards the First Class entrance. Her arm within his felt quite natural, and as they ignored the stares of other passengers, she felt his warmth and seemed to relax within his presence. This had become quite an enjoyable afternoon. She couldn't remember a time she had felt at ease as much as today
"See, like so, well done." she grinned.
Jack held in his laughter, they glanced sideways as though they were naughty children. "Well, you'd better lead the way, ma'am."
"Don't call me ma'am, as though I'm older than my years. As I said, if you continue your story."
Jack shook his head. "Well, after it got cold in Santa Monica, I decided to head out to Paris to see what the real artists were up to and that was all there was to it, really."
"How fascinating that must have been." Rose sighed wistfully.
"Not really," he laughed, "they didn't think too much of my stuff in old Paree, but I met Fabrizio there, my friend, and we wound up travelling to Montmartre and I saw Monet there through a peephole."
"Did you converse?"
"God no, I was chased off the land by a guy with a gun hot on our tails so we left France for England and made my way to Southampton by chance, hoping to jump aboard a ship, somehow but then, by chance, we saw the Titanic was sailing. How could we miss sailing day, huh? I won my ticket on Titanic during a lucky game of poker."
Rose paused just a moment, before they came to a stop outside the First-Class Entrance, removing her arm from his, she took note of the freshness of his face. "Well, well, well, what a life you lead."
"Yeah, you need to have fun, for you never know what hand fate will deal you next."
The contrast between the two was suddenly severe. As though sun and ice had met for the first time, but somehow, one seemed to melt the other without any hesitation, without any regrets.
"So, how does a person with limited means travel so much?"
"Aside from the oddjobs I mentioned, I've also worked my way from place to place on tramp steamers, I have stowed away. I have come out of some pretty dark, cramped and cold spaces. I'll say that much."
Despite the sound of it, she was utterly enamoured with the story of his life and how he simply let fate lead the way.
"Indeed."
Jack was gathering his sights about them and squinted at their reason for stopping abruptly. "So, Rose, what was the problem with my attire?"
Rose grabbed his arm as though he was a naughty child.
"Come."
The First-Class Barber Shop and Tailor's was located on C-Deck, just off the Aft Grand Staircase, Rose threaded him through throngs of people, dressed in top hats, ridiculous jewels and feathers popping out everywhere.
Jack seemed to baulk at the sight of Mrs Newby's fourteen sets of pearls that she wore at her throat, and the almost full peacock that sat atop her companion's head, his mouth gaped as they passed several others who were just as drastically dressed.
"It's like we've come to the zoo."
Jack's brazenness made her giggle, so much that she had to cover her mouth with a delicate hand to hide amusement.
"Jack, stop."
"They walk like they got a stick shoved up their ass."
That was when she could take no more, and as they reached the ornate door that was simply labelled as the "Tailor's" located beside the barbers, she could only burst out laughing, unable to contain herself any longer.
"You could be considered the rudest man that I have ever come across, remind me to adjust your attitude as well as your attire."
As they entered, her voice hushed as they became aware of the presence of the tailor. He was a short, stout man, dressed like the majority of his stock.
"Good afternoon, ma'am…" he hesitantly glared towards Jack, casting his glance downward at his attire before coming back up, "Sir."
If he wanted to question exactly why a lady was in a gentleman's shop, and accompanied by a man of Jack's station, he said nothing at all.
"Good afternoon, this gentleman should require a three-piece evening suit and shoes."
"Of course."
The tailor pulled out a tape measure, glancing at Jack awkwardly, who didn't move an inch. Rose raised her brow at his hunched posture, leaning against the doorframe, eyeing a few items of gentlemen's wear on display with a bemused grin.
"May I introduce Mr. Dawson?" She said his surname with added emphasis and so he stepped forward to the tailor, greeting him with a casual nod, rather than a handshake.
"How ya doin'?"
"This way, sir." The tailor led him towards a curtain where she assumed he would be measured for the best-fitting suit.
Suddenly, Rose was alone and aware of a silence that she had not heard in a while, especially since her thoughts were still and calm.
The smell of leather, tobacco and new garment material scented the air and whilst it wasn't unlike Cal's scent, it was laced with something else.
Rose fidgeted with the beading on her purse as she contemplated her sanity. Why has she invited him to dinner? It was a mystery even to her. Why his presence meant so much to her. Perhaps she was vicariously living his worldly life, something she deeply yearned for. Suddenly, the thought of him there, behind the curtain trying on items of clothing made her cheeks burn. As if reading her thoughts, the tailor emerged from behind the curtain and started to search for items in a suitable sizing, he was currently locating a shirt.
Rose wandered towards the door, finding herself walking towards the C-Deck Grand Staircase. As she came to the balustrade supported by light scrollwork of iron with occasional touches of bronze, in the form of flowers and foliage, she gaped in awe.
Above her, a great dome of iron and glass cast a flood of light down the stairway. On the landing beneath it, a great carved panel gave its note of richness to the otherwise plain and massive construction of the wall. The panel contained a clock, on either side of which was a female figure, symbolising Honour and Glory Crowning Time.
Looking over the balustrade, she could see the stairs descending to many floors below, casting her gaze to the side, she found smooth-gliding elevators. The ship truly was a wonder, a beautiful sight to behold and yet, all she seemed to think of was Jack's transformation, a silly child's game which had suddenly felt serious.
She felt the need to prepare him for dinner, for she wished for him to come and not be made a fool of, no doubt that Cal would try.
Rose came back to the Barbers, stalling at the entrance.
The barber room itself was installed with two swivel chairs, a marble countertop with two sinks, and a leather-padded waiting bench.
A trio of mirrors sat in front of Rose, and she found herself admiring her reflection for just a moment. She had colour in her cheeks, windswept hair, and had a certain glow about her. A moment later, a second face appeared in the mirror just behind her, emerging from the barbershop, breaking her reverie. After he took three steps towards her, they were a few metres apart. Rose raised her eyes to his to lock for a second, her breath catching in her throat, until she turned slowly to be presented with her protege.
Gently, he took her left hand into his own and slowly, almost painfully, brought it to rest upon his lips. He allowed her skin to linger there just a moment before he kissed the back of her hand and before lowering it back to her side. Mesmerised, Rose was unable to look away from him.
He was an extraordinarily beautiful man, his skin as dark as clover honey, his dark blonde hair now a touch shorter, styled back to reveal his forehead in a way that made her fingers twitch with the urge to touch all of his face. His chin and upper lip were now clean-shaven.
He met her wide-eyed glance with a steady interest that caused her toes to curl inside her leather shoes. Fighting for composure, Rose looked away from him, even so, she remained sharply aware of him.
The relaxed alertness of his posture, and the unknown pulse emanating beneath the elegant layers of his clothing.
"What do you think?"
"You certainly shine up well."
"As well as a new penny?"
Rose could only smile, until they turned to see her mother approaching, conversing with Molly Brown and The Countess. Her stomach plummeted.
"Oh, Lord, compose yourself, you're about to meet my mother."
Jack could only turn to face them, stiffening, as his trip into the snake pit had begun.
