Earlier that day.
On this Sunday morning, it felt like everything had truly changed without warning. Hovering over the breakfast table's precipice, Trudy cleared away clattering pots.
Rose pulled at the lace which adorned the sleeves of her dress before resting her hand against the pacing of her heart. Trudy had pinned her hair lightly, leaving most strands free to frame her face. It wasn't particularly well-liked for a lady to wear her hair down at all, but Rose disliked the feeling of weight on her head.
The waves below them, over the rail, lapped against the ship in a whooshing sound; it should have lightened her mood, but instead, she felt as though a cloud of grey followed her about consistently. Rose felt alienated, withdrawn and out of sorts; her mind firmly with Jack. On a beautiful morning like this one, she longed to be out on the deck and walk the length and breadth of the ship just talking nonsense, and yet, she sat opposite the man she was to marry in a matter of weeks and felt utterly dreadful.
''The colour has drained from your cheeks,'' Cal muttered between sips of coffee. ''Perhaps those pills are losing their charm. We shall see about seeing to that.''
Rose slid her hand down to the cup silently. Trudy came back to clear the breakfast trays away, and it was not unnoticed that she had barely touched anything that had been served initially.
''Perhaps they never worked at all.''
''Rose, the good doctor would not have prescribed them if that was not the case,'' Cal told her most condescendingly. ''Besides, you improved considerably over the last few days.''
Exhaling slowly, Rose agreed. ''Yes, perhaps that is true."
''Trudy, Rose should be required to take her medication,'' Cal glanced back down at the morning paper for just a moment before he caught onto the maid's hesitation at handling the tablets. ''Trudy?''
''Yes, sir.'' Trudy slowed, put the collected dirty plates back onto the table linen and fumbled about in the front pouch of her apron. After a moment, she pulled out a pill bottle containing not more than three pills, rattling inside as she went, as though screaming for their freedom. The glances exchanged between Trudy and Rose spoke volumes, although it seemed slightly unnoticed by Cal, for he did not know that for weeks, Trudy simply disposed of the pill. She opened the bottle, tapping the neck into her palm, and one tiny red circle landed. Passing the pill to Rose, she simply curtsied before collecting the plates and went inside, leaving Rose facing Cal in complete silence.
''Well, what are you waiting for?''
The pill seemed to burn through her palms, drain the entirety of whatever life was left within her. She had tried too hard to remove the effects of the damned medication, and now, it was as though she was about to take a test. One that she would fail. She could lie, or she could take the pill.
''Perhaps it shall tame your behaviours at present.''
''Pardon me?''
"I had hoped that you could come to me last night." His voice was quiet and would almost be comforting if she had fallen for his charms at all. ''I had hoped that my embrace should have been warm for the evening after the coldness I have endured from you since we came aboard.''
"I was tired," Rose told him, stirring her coffee, still holding the pill.
''Yes, your exertions dancing with Mr. Dawson would have that effect on you.'' Cal lowered his gaze to her, and she knew then that this conversation wouldn't be about the fact that she hadn't joined him in the bedroom but because of her involvement with an artist of the lower classes. ''Are you intentionally trying to provoke me?''
''No.''
''Well, your demeanour and late behaviour seem crafted to embarrass me at every opportunity, and I will not stand for it. The medication was supposed to ensure that your temperament was tamed. What were you thinking?''
''Am I not allowed to be my person?'' Straightening her back, in a sort of defence, Rose raised her chin to speak. ''I see that you had that undertaker of a manservant watching me; how convenient. I am not a foreman in one of your mills to command and bark orders to; I am your fiancée. I am a woman. A woman with-''
Rose could hear the anger within his breathing; his nostrils flared as though he tried to keep his temper in check, but in a slow second, his hand struck her face. It was hard and fast, and it knocked her backwards. She remained silent, not even raising her hand to tend to it. The blow should have been expected; he was a man needing to be in control of everything. Especially in control of her, a woman.
''Yes, you are a woman. And my fiancée, and my wife! You will honour me the way a wife is supposed to honour her husband; you will not make me a fool, Rose. Now, take the damned pill!''
Cal's strike pulsated across her face. Across her head. Through her veins. Still, she never raised her head to meet Cal's gaze, feeling the absolute hatred he would have inflicted upon her. The pain hadn't ceased but pulsated less, as though her nerves had deadened. Her feelings had become numb. Her entire body was quivering. Rose twisted her neck to a more comfortable position but didn't look at him. Then, his rough hands were on her face, forcing her to watch him with a twist of her neck. His lips came down on hers, slanting and protruding his tongue into her mouth as though he was claiming her as his own. After one silly second, he ripped the pill from her palms and forced it into her mouth; it was bitter as he used his tongue to work it deeper and deeper into her mouth. Rose struggled to breathe, kicking her legs about in a squirm beneath the weight of him as she felt almost tied to the chair. She tried to bite, tried to chew at his lips, but she was nearly choking on his tongue and the disgusting taste of the pill. The weight of his grip on her shoulders tightened, the red anger within his face becoming darker by the second.
Suddenly, Rose seemed to find her strength. She pushed back enough to part their lips for a brief second until Cal's hands came up her shoulders roughly, grabbing at her dress and across her chest just when he was about to greedily take a chance at fondling her breasts before quickly she took a hairpin from her neatly propped up hair and took the opportunity to jab it into his chest and nipped his skin, causing him to immediately back away from her, recoiling from the burn before she spat the pill at him.
''You little-''
Rose ran to the door, allowing herself back into the confines of the sitting room. Her hair had freed itself, hanging loosely about her shoulders as she moved, barging into the pieces of furniture as she went and bashing them out of the way as she moved with such a purpose towards her bedroom.
''Stop her!'' Cal called out to Lovejoy, she assumed, and as she had reached the doorknob, about to twist it to freedom, a pair of slim hands ceased her escape. Rose pushed back against the force, brutally wrestling him with her entire weight. Lovejoy barely could contain her with his own hands, her temper flaring.
''Stop fighting.''
Cal was moving towards them, nursing his chest.
''Whatever is going on!'' Ruth cried as she crossed the sitting room dressed for the church service, flanked by her maid, Minnie, who was horrified. ''Unhand my daughter this very minute!''
Lovejoy dropped Rose, who went to her bedroom, finding sanctuary in the deep, softened brown eyes of her maid, Trudy. Rose allowed herself to sob—sob for the life she was trapped within, for the life she longed for, for the love of a man she could never love at all.
After a bath and transforming into the lovely society, Miss once more, Rose sat in Ruth's sitting room, taking a cup of tea before the morning's church service commenced. Her mother had planned an entire day for them both...
''We have the hymn sing, lunch with the Astor's, then Mr. Andrews has offered to take us on a tour of the ship and then tea with the countess of Rothes-''
Listening to her mother's dizzying list of an itinerary, Rose responded quietly. ''I will not be attending anything after church, mother.''
''You are not to see Mr. Dawson again, Rose. Are you listening to me?''
Hearing the notes of her mother's voice, Rose tilted her head and regarded her curiously. Cal must have shared their conversation with her from breakfast that morning. The matter was unresolved even after she had stunned Lovejoy enough to unhand her. Cal had limped into his room to have his wound tended to and made no further fuss on the matter, for why would a gentleman cry over a tiny pinch?
''Oh, Mother, who are you to tell me whom I will or will not associate with.''
''Do not jeopardise things so close to the wedding. ''
''I am simply taking the control of myself.''
''The situation is even more dangerous. Don't you see everything we have worked for is at stake''
''Everything you worked for, Mother, it was never me.''
''Do you think I was raised to be a fool?'' Ruth hissed, ''Of course I know of such adolescent feelings. The ones young girls have when they see a handsome young boy. I have seen them all before,'' She sighed, taking a sharp breath and shaking her head. ''But boys like him haven't had an education. Can he even read or write? He does not know how to treat a woman, what she wants, what her needs are, and how to be fragile. He simply sees a lovely girl, all innocent and sweet, and once he is through, you will wind up with a child, homeless and alone!''
Rose remained completely silent with her back poker straight against the upholstered chair. Outwardly, she was collected and calm, as calm as could be. Her eyes softly gazed at her mother, who paced her stateroom with such stress that she could almost feel the heart attack she was about to bring upon herself.
''I do not understand you, Rose. Your match with Hockley will ensure our survival. To throw all of that away, to discard him like trash and for what-a bohemian artist who knows how to fill a young girl's head.''
Ruth shook her head, pacing to the fireplace to feel the warmth.
''A man like that will know how to charm women. How to lure them in with his wholesome image, his handsome face, and before you know it, a woman is just another whore in his bed.'' She clamped her right hand around her face as soon as she had cursed. ''Forgive me.''
''Oh mother, do you truly think is what could become of me?''
Ruth covered her face with her hands. ''Yes! I know you and your naive little mind. You are cursed at times.''
''One would think that I had some sort of magical curse that cannot be cured.''
''No, but you must be cured. This is not like your melancholia…God knows that must have been inherited from your father's side, for it certainly was not from mine. We were all of sound mind.''
Rose raised her perfectly arched eyebrow as her mother continued her pace. ''Mother, you cannot ''cure''' everything with a pill. You could not ''cure'' my father, you certainly will not be able to ''cure'' me.''
''That is wrong with you; you fail to see the good in what you already have. There must be something in your head that needs to be rectified. Those pills do not seem to be working…''
''No, they do not.'' Rose laughed.
''This has to be rectified.''
''Whatever do you mean?''
''You think it is acceptable to dally around with a boy.''
''I most certainly did not, ''dally''; I do not know what Cal or his manservant told you, but that was not the case.'' Rose laughed pitifully. ''Is that so hard to believe? Men certainly are prone to gossip as much as women these days, or so it seems.''
''It is the way I see it. Dancing with another man, in his arms, that way…''
''Is it better than marrying a man I will never love?''
''Oh, you fool. This is not just about me or yourself.''
''No, I do happen to carry the burden of this entire family, do I not? I would rather be a fool than a whore for Cal, to give myself to him, to carry his heirs and then be discarded to the wolves of society.''
''Do not be so ridiculous!'' Ruth cried. ''We are women; our choices are never easy. I have to bear the weight of two children! Two daughters, nevertheless.''
''Why mother? Why did you put this on my shoulders? Why was I to be the one to marry such quality to save the family name?''
''I am to mourn for the period; a widow should not remarry within the time limits set out as by the rules of society, and your sister is far too young; she is not yet out in society.''
''She will soon be! But, yes, let us follow the rules, mother. Let us never allow ourselves to think, love or feel. Let us grow to detest ourselves, our lives and everything about us, simply because of a societal rule book written by people who would go on to make the same mistakes.''
''You are a child, Rose. A naïve little girl who believes in the fairy tale a boy has fed you.'' Ruth shook her head. ''What else has he told you?''
''I know he is the most honest person I have met. He cares, is truthful, and sees the world the way I want to.'' Rose paused for breath. ''He knows more about me than anybody else, I fear.''
''Oh, do not be ridiculous. You cannot know someone after just one day. He is homeless. Do you want that life for yourself? Do you want that for Elizabeth?''
Rose felt the blood drain from her face. A realisation had made her numb. Her hands were steady as she swirled the tea in the bottom of her China cup. It was cold, and the milk had started to lighten the colour; it was like a tiny person drowning. She almost felt like that person. Reasoning with her mother would never happen. Ruth DeWitt Bukater was far too close-minded, stubborn, and rude never to accept Rose's choice, but the one thing she hadn't revealed was that her mind was made up; she would start to have some reign over her outcome.
Once, Rose had feared for the rest of her life. It was planned; each chapter was carefully laid out before her. Each dinner was the same but with a different beautiful dress. Each eligible suitor had the same face and a different name; each was as arrogant as the other. They would list their family's accomplishments, accolades, and bank balances. Each time, she cared less and less. But she did care for her sister.
''Don't be absurd. You and Elizabeth are why I have fought so hard for this family name to stay above water, for your father allowed it to sink so far in the mud that it was hard even to retrieve it.''
''No, you fought for yourself. You threatened me since my father died, how I would have to hang my head in shame if you would have to find some sort of work and that you had very little skill. That is what terrifies you more than anything, isn't it?''
''And so should you, too. We are women, and our choices are limited but easier than others. We are to carry the children, to raise them to be fine, up-standing individuals.''
''Then, I must have failed you well and truly,'' Rose stated matter of factly. The atmosphere was as thick as winter fog.
''You will only fail me, Rose, if you leave.'' Ruth closed her eyes, a watery line visible as she came to sit at the table. ''I only want what is best for you, for us all.'' She pleaded with Rose. ''Cal is a fine man who offered you more than he needed to.''
''And if he doesn't want me after this morning?'' Rose asked, hope evident in her voice.
''He does, my darling, for we have already spoken, and as long as this does not happen again, then he is more than happy to give Elizabeth the cotillion of her dreams when we return home; you shall have the wedding of your dreams, and soon, you shall have children, Rose. That is the true joy in life.''
And there was her whole life planned for her and Elizabeth once more.
A flutter of melancholy settled across Rose's shoulders, weighing it more than what was initially ploughing her down. Oh, soon she would drown; she could feel it. Gazing at her mother's pleading face, in her heart, she knew what Ruth had done was indeed for the good of her daughter. Marrying for love was never an option. Leaving Elizabeth was not an option.
She loved her sister dearly, and if either of them were to surrender to the pack of wolves, then it would be Rose; she would not allow it for her baby sister.