Queen of the Waves

by Janice Thompson

  Jacquie remained silent, unsure what this had to do with her. She didn’t know which “good thing” her father happened to be referring to—his burgeoning steel mill or his daughter. “Father, I’m sorry, but I don’t quite understand. Are you saying that Roland is looking to merge his business in New York with yours, here in London?”

  “I have no doubt that we will merge forces sooner or later, if all goes as planned.” With a snap of her father’s wrist, the match lit into a flame. Positioning the cigar in his mouth, his fingers wrapped around the band. He began to puff as he rotated the cigar, his cheeks moving in and out until it was fully lit. Within seconds, the familiar pungent aroma filled the room. Jacquie had just started to relax when her father looked her way. “Roland Palmer has asked for your hand in marriage, my dear.”

  The smile that followed did little to lift her spirits.

  Chapter Two

  Friday, March 8, 1912

  Abingdon Manor, Richmond, England

  A wave of fear washed over Jacquie afresh as she tried to absorb the news.

  Father dangled the cigar between his fingers. “I’m delighted about Roland’s offer, as you might imagine. I do hope you will be as well. This has been a thoughtful undertaking.”

  “B–but…” She couldn’t seem to manage anything else. The lump in her throat wouldn’t allow it.

  “He’s a good man, and a kind one. I can’t deny that the arrangement is advantageous for us all, but I do believe you will settle happily. He will treat you well and give you a good life. And you will never want for anything. Of this, we can be quite sure.” Another puff of the cigar followed on her father’s end and then a nod. “Roland has a large home in New York and has just purchased the Willingham estate here in Richmond near the Thames.”

  “Well, that sounds lovely.” Jacquie’s mother folded her hands in her lap and sat up a bit straighter.

  “Yes.” Father grinned. “And what a stroke of luck, marrying a man in the automobile industry. Not only will you have an enviable home, but you will also own the best vehicles in the county.”

  Jacquie swallowed hard as she thought about how to respond. Of course her father found this news to be delightful. He would. But she could not—would not—marry a man she had no feelings for, especially when her heart remained affixed to another. She forced a smile and fought to quiet her racing heart, fearing it might somehow give her away.

  “Father, this is 1912,” she managed at last. “I hardly think—”

  “Yes, a great year for the automobile industry.” Her father leaned forward and pulled the cigar from his mouth. “You must consider how this will affect our family for generations to come, Jacqueline. Abingdon and Palmer has a nice ring to it, don’t you think? And I can envision a houseful of little Palmers running around, bringing cheer to us all.”

  “But—”

  “And who knows? Maybe one day your son—should you be blessed to have one—will carry on in my stead. I can’t live forever, you know.” Her father chuckled then leaned back in his chair and returned to smoking his cigar, his eyes now closed.

  Jacquie glanced her mother’s way and noticed the widened eyes.

  “What a blessed day for us all.” Mama pushed herself up from the chair and pulled Jacquie into a warm embrace. “Don’t you agree, darling?”

  “Well, I…”

  Her mother stepped back and extended a hand. “Come with me, sweet girl. It would appear we have plans to set in motion, and the sooner the better.”

  “But Mother, I…” Jacquie couldn’t seem to complete her sentence. Pressing the words out past the knot in her throat proved impossible. How could she be expected to transition her thinking in such a way? Why, just yesterday she was attending parties with her friends and giggling over boys. Boys her own age, not men twelve years her senior.

  Jacquie’s mother made her way across the room, the heels of her shoes clicking across the floor. “Your father has work to do, and it would appear we do as well.” Turning her attention to Jacquie’s father, she gave him a little wink. “You know how we ladies are, Henry. You don’t mind if we escape for a bit to talk through the particulars of the upcoming nuptials, do you? We’ve a trousseau to prepare, after all. And we must begin to put together the guest list as soon as possible. We don’t want to leave anyone out.”

  “Heaven forbid.” Her father waved a hand. “Go on, now. Make all the plans you like. Our daughter’s wedding day will be a cause for celebration for us all.” He gave Jacqueline a brusque nod. “And lest I forget to say it, cost is no issue. Appease yourself by planning the largest, most opulent wedding London has ever seen. When a man has but one daughter, such frivolity is expected. I daresay the town gossips will fuss if I withhold any good thing from my precious girl.”

  Like her happiness, for instance?

  She didn’t speak the words aloud, of course, managing only a weak “Thank you, Father.” Then Jacquie turned and followed on her mother’s heels.

  Once they reached the front hall, Mama took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Upstairs,” she whispered, the tiny wrinkles around her eyes growing more pronounced. “Don’t breathe a word until we get there.” Mama brushed a loose hair off Jacquie’s face then put a finger to her lips.

  Jacquie’s curiosity rose, but she did not voice her questions. Instead, she climbed the stairs, remaining in her mother’s shadow until they reached the lavish French doors leading to the master bedroom suite.

  Mama swung them wide and marched inside. Then she released an unladylike groan. “This place is as dark as a tomb.” She walked to the window and pulled back the deep blue velvet draperies, allowing sunlight to enter the large suite. The brass canopy bed glistened as rays of light hit it, and the golden threads in the coverlet shimmered as if to show off their value. If only Father saw Jacquie as valuable, then he wouldn’t insist upon marrying her off to further his business.

  Mama kept walking as if on a mission. “Come with me, child.” She led the way beyond the silk-papered walls into the spacious closet with its vaulted ceiling. Easing her way past the ball gowns and party shoes, she finally came to a stop in front of a set of shelves full of boxes and whatnot. Mama reached for a large hatbox then turned to Jacquie. “I know this is difficult, but you must ask no questions.”

  Ask no questions? Right now, all she had were questions. Dozens of them. And no answers. How could she be expected to remain silent when everything around her cried out for some sort of heavenly intervention?

  Her mother’s voice lowered to a whisper as she opened the hatbox and pressed several newspaper clippings into Jacquie’s hands. “A new ocean liner is leaving Southampton in five weeks, headed for New York. Arrangements can be made for you to be onboard when she sails, but we must hurry.” She pressed the now-empty hatbox back onto the shelf.

  “W–what? You’re sending me to America?” Jacquie shook her head as she stared down at the newspaper clippings. A photograph of the RMS Titanic stared back at her. “What are you saying, Mother? Have you and Father planned this as some sort of honeymoon gift?”

  Mama shook her head. “I’ve known for weeks that your father was, well…working on a plan with Mr. Palmer, but I’m not talking about sending the two of you off on a honeymoon. Not at all.” She led the way to the large canopy bed and settled onto the edge then patted the empty spot beside her. “Come. Sit.”

  Jacquie trembled as she took the place next to her mother. She tossed the newspaper clippings onto the bed, her frustration growing. None of this made any sense.

  “Listen to me.” Mama reached to grip her hand. “I know the pain of a forced union firsthand. My own father, God rest his soul, made sure I was advantageously matched as well.” Her expression hardened. “My daughter will not be painted into that same corner. I would sooner die than allow it, trust me.”

  Jacquie couldn’t help but gasp at this news. If her parents’ marriage had been anything but love-centered, she’d never known it. Either her mother was a terri
fic actress—one capable of a career upon the stage—or she’d settled into her life here at Abingdon Manor with a compliant spirit.

  “Surely you can see how it is with Roland and your father. Each has something to offer the other, and you’re to be the bargain in the middle. The enticement, as it were. And something else is behind this decision, as well,” Mama said. “Your feelings have not escaped me, Jacquie, though you’ve tried valiantly to hide them over these past many weeks.”

  “O–oh?” Her heart quickened, and her cheeks grew warm.

  “You are in love with Peter Bowen. Don’t deny it, child.”

  Jacquie’s hands trembled and she found herself at a loss for words. She’d worked so hard to hide her feelings from everyone in the house. How had Mother managed to discern them?

  “I’m not blind, Jacquie. And neither is Iris.”

  Jacquie grimaced as the name of her lady’s maid was spoken. “She had no right to tell you.”

  “She didn’t have to. Iris simply confirmed what I already knew to be true. I’m your mother, and I know infatuation when I see it.” Mama sighed. “I do pray it’s just that—an infatuation. Regardless, you must know that your father would sooner see himself hanged than let his only daughter marry the groundskeeper. I daresay he would marry you off to Roland tomorrow if he got wind of this. So consider yourself fortunate that he does not know.”

  The trembling intensified. Jacquie drew a deep breath and tried to steady her nerves. What could she possibly say in response to all of this?

  Her mother reached for the newspaper clippings. “There is only one thing to do to solve both of these problems at once. I plan to wire your grandmother in New York this afternoon. She will purchase your ticket to America, and no one will be the wiser. By the time the Titanic sails, you will be on your way and your father’s hands will be tied.”

  “But Peter…” She shook her head, the lump rising to her throat again.

  “You have no choice, Jacquie. You must put him out of your mind.” Her mother paused. “It’s for the best, at least until this situation with Roland dies down.” She gave Jacquie a pensive look and gripped the newspaper clippings in her hand. “This is the only thing I can think to offer. I will understand if you decide not to go. But if you do, your grandmother will welcome you with open arms. She will make a very pleasant life for you in New York and introduce you to the best of society. We’ve spoken at length about sending you—for years, in fact.”

  This news caught Jacqueline off guard. “What about Father? When he finds out, he’ll—” She couldn’t complete the sentence. A cold chill rushed over her as she contemplated his possible actions.

  Mother’s expression softened. “He will forgive us. Eventually. And he and Roland will likely merge their companies whether you marry or not, so don’t fret over that. Business is business, and they are men, after all. They’re motivated by their pocketbooks.”

  “Are you sure?” Jacquie whispered. It would be one thing to let her father down by not marrying a man he’d chosen for her, but another completely to throw his business into disarray.

  “You’re only nineteen, Jacquie.” Her mother reached over to smooth her long tresses. “Far too young to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders just yet. Trust me when I say that there will be plenty of time for that later. Right now, we just need to get you out of England. It’s your well-being I’m concerned with.”

  “My well-being.” Jacquie glanced down at the newspaper clippings, sighing as she saw the picture of the RMS Titanic in all her glory. Had it really come to this? Was traveling to America her only option? She looked again at the picture, and a faint smile tipped up the edges of her lips as she thought the situation through. Truly, there were worse fates to befall a girl. Who among her friends would be fortunate enough to make the maiden voyage on one of the ocean’s most famed vessels?

  At once an idea formulated, one she would never consider voicing. Jacquie did her best to maintain her composure as she looked her mother’s way, though her thoughts now tumbled madly. “You’ve offered the best possible solution, Mama. I can see that now.” She rose and brushed her skirts, her smile quite genuine. “So I will accept Grandmother’s offering. I will go to America.” And I won’t look back, no matter who—or what—I’ve left behind.

  Tessa rose from the rocky path, her knees a bloody mess. Even in his inebriated state Pa continued to preach, proclaiming her to be the most woeful of sinners. On and on he went, even tossing in Scripture verses to punctuate his message.

  As they made their way up the incline toward the cottage, Tessa bit back the temptation to cry. Tears would do her no good. This she knew from years of allowing them to flow after such a tirade on Pa’s part. No, only one thing made sense: she would square her shoulders, bide her time, and then, when life presented just the right opportunity, run as fast and as far from this place as she possibly could.

  Chapter Three

  Wednesday, March 13, 1912

  Abingdon Manor, Richmond, England

  The next several days at Abingdon Manor were spent in a whirlwind. Jacquie smiled and nodded every time her father mentioned Roland’s name, as if nothing were out of the ordinary. On the inside, however, she quivered like the cook’s chocolate mousse.

  She kept a watchful eye on The Times, her heart rate skipping to double time as she read various articles on the excitement surrounding Titanic’s upcoming voyage. To think, she would be onboard. The very idea gave her a chill. And if all went as planned, she would not be alone.

  A delicious satisfaction wrapped her as she thought about the plan she’d concocted. Of course, she still had to run it by Peter, but how could he resist? Surely by now he’d read the note she’d left under her favorite flowerpot in the greenhouse. He knew about her so-called engagement to Roland. With that very thing in mind, Peter would surely jump on her idea. Then the two of them could get to work at ironing out the particulars. She could hardly wait.

  Just four weeks shy of the ship’s sailing, Jacquie was summoned to the master suite. She found her mother seated at the dressing table, fussing with her hair. As she gazed at the reflection in the oval mirror, Jacquie couldn’t help but notice the wrinkles around Mama’s eyes. They seemed to grow deeper every day. Perhaps the stress of their secret project had her mother feeling more anxious than usual.

  “Jacquie, you’re here.” Mama turned and extended a hand, her eyes glistening with tears. “A present has arrived with your name on it.” She slid open one of the tiny drawers on the vanity and pulled out some unfamiliar papers.

  Jacquie took a step forward, smiling as she saw the insignia for the Titanic on the top page. “Is this—I mean, is this it? My ticket?”

  “And your itinerary.” Her mother rose and pulled her close, her voice still low. “Your grandmother has been extremely generous, my dear. You will have to thank her properly when you arrive in New York. The cost of a first-class ticket was, well—” She giggled. “Let’s just say even Roland Palmer himself would have chosen a more reasonably priced room.” Her expression grew more serious. “But you’re worth it, Jacquie. You deserve the very best, which is exactly why I feel more strongly each day that you must leave here.”

  “Thank you, Mama.”

  “Your grandmother has booked a suite with two rooms so that Iris can travel with you.”

  “I–Iris?”

  “Well, of course, silly girl. You didn’t think I would send you off across the Atlantic without her, did you?” Mother’s expression tightened. “No respectable young woman would travel such a great distance alone. Besides, you will need your lady’s maid to help with dressing and hair and such. She will be a treasure to you, I’m sure. And what a great sacrifice she is making, to leave her family here in England so that she might attend to your needs. We owe her a great deal of thanks.”

  “Of course, but…” The words drifted off as Jacquie’s heart wriggled its way into her stomach. She hadn’t planned on this. Having Iris along wou
ld complicate her plans on many levels, though she certainly couldn’t say so.

  Mama turned back to the mirror and continued running the brush through her hair in careful, even strokes. She finally paused then spoke to Jacquie’s reflection. “I guess you’ve heard that Roland is coming for lunch today. There was nothing I could do to avoid it, but I feel sure we’ll muddle through somehow. A duller man never drew breath.”

  “I’m not sure that’s true, Mother,” Jacquie said. “He’s quite amiable.”

  “Still, all that talk of steel and such will likely wear on my nerves. Perhaps I should take a headache powder to calm myself before he arrives.”

  “I’ll do my best to be polite.” Jacquie leaned down and wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck. “And in case I haven’t said it, Mama, I’m so thankful. When I think of what you’ve done for me, the lengths you’ve gone to…” She fought back tears, determined not to let her emotions get the best of her once again. Still, she could hardly imagine the efforts her mother and grandmother had gone to. How could she ever repay them?

  Her mother turned and patted her hand. “Don’t give it another thought. Just live your life, honey. Be happy enough for the both of us.”

  “I will.” A ripple of guilt washed over Jacquie, but she pushed it away. No time for that today. Mama would eventually forgive her. Hopefully Father would, too, though his forgiveness might be longer in coming.

  “Now, we must busy ourselves with your trousseau,” her mother said. “Your father has instructed me to spare no expense. He will be suspicious if we don’t order up new clothes for you for your honeymoon.”

  “New clothes?”

  “Of course. Every new bride gets a trousseau. I’ve been thinking about how pretty you look in creams and pinks. Just perfect for spring. What do you think about charmeuse silk for your going-away dress?” Mama’s eyes sparkled. “We’re not being dishonest if we call it a going-away dress, after all. You are going away.” She gave Jacquie a kiss on the cheek. “And I’ve always thought charmeuse silk to be the loveliest on the market. So shiny, and it drapes beautifully.”