The next few minutes were spent in hushed conversation about various wardrobe pieces. Before long Mother had made a list of the silks, satins, and other fabrics she planned to purchase for Jacquie’s trip to America.
“We will keep Mrs. O’Shea busy with our requests,” she said. “But she’s a fast worker and will deliver what we ask for, even if it means working through the night. I won’t have my daughter boarding the world’s finest luxury liner in her old dresses.”
“What will I do with the ones I no longer require?” Jacquie asked.
Mama shrugged. “Don’t fret about that. Perhaps we can give them to the poor.”
A strange notion, to Jacquie’s way of thinking. “Mother, I doubt the poor will know what to do with my coming-out dresses and such. They don’t see a lot of need for panne velvet or crepe-back satin.”
“Hmm. We can think about that another day, I suppose. For now, I want to keep my thoughts on your upcoming pretties. Oh, and we will need to order new corsets too, of course. Something befitting a bride.” She gave Jacquie a little wink. “A bride without a groom.”
This bride might have a groom hiding in the wings, Mother, so buy the prettiest corsets available. Pick an exquisite silk damask with the most delicate embroidery and lovely satin roses. Only the best for my husband.
Though she tried to keep her giggles at bay, she could not. Jacquie felt her cheeks warm as unladylike thoughts traveled through her mind. Determined to stay focused, she smiled at her mother. “Well, let’s get to work, shall we?”
They spent the next hour listing a variety of wardrobe items for her trousseau, which would be sewn by Mrs. O’Shea, Mother’s favorite seamstress. Surely the woman would be delighted at the influx of work. And no one else could be trusted with such an undertaking. Hadn’t Mrs. O’Shea provided Jacquie’s sumptuous party dresses over the past many years? Didn’t she specialize in ball gowns that made the young men swoon with delight?
Jacquie envisioned a wide range of new dresses in whites, blues, and creams. Velvet ribbons would trim out the new gowns with their décolleté round necklines. At least one evening gown would be of an off-the-shoulder design, and others would have beautifully flounced sleeves made of lace. Tea gowns, walking gowns, suits, capes, and more. Mrs. O’Shea and her team of seamstresses would certainly have her hands full with this order.
At ten thirty that morning Jacquie finally retreated to her room to dress for the luncheon with Roland. She chose a simple white gown with a pinched waist and full skirt. Iris entered the room to help with her ties in the back, chattering nonstop about their upcoming voyage.
“I cannot believe my good fortune.” Iris giggled. “Every time I think about it, I’m giddy, miss.”
“Yes, I’m delighted as well.” About the trip, of course, but not about having Iris along. This would surely kink up the plans. She and Peter would have a lot to talk about. Then again, they already had a lot to discuss even without factoring Iris into the mix.
Roland arrived at exactly five till eleven, looking more than a little anxious. The man was nothing if not prompt. He gushed over Jacquie’s appearance and even insisted upon sitting next to her at the dining room table, making quite the show about pulling out her chair. She took her seat, groaning inwardly. Truly, the only thing that made the whole experience tolerable was the glimpse of Peter she managed to catch through the window as he worked in the garden. For a moment their eyes met, and all was right with the world again.
“I must say, you look radiant.”
“Excuse me?” Jacquie turned back to Roland, not quite sure she’d heard him correctly.
“You’re exquisite in this white dress. I can only imagine how lovely you will look on our wedding day.”
His cheeks flushed red, and Jacquie felt a wave of guilt wriggle through her. She offered him a gentle nod, hoping he wouldn’t notice the trembling in her hands. No one had ever accused the man of being an ogre. For the most part, she found him agreeable. Still, not the sort she would ever want to marry, not if she waited her whole life. For one thing, the difference in their ages seemed too wide a gap. For another, her heart belonged to someone else.
“If you think she looks lovely today, just wait until you see the dresses we’ve ordered. Your new bride is going to be the toast of the town in her new gowns.” Mother shared with great zeal about the various fabrics they’d chosen for Jacquie’s so-called honeymoon ensemble, and another niggling of guilt ribboned through Jacquie.
In spite of this, the lunch hour passed tolerably well. Jacquie tried not to yawn aloud as Father and Roland lit into a conversation about automobiles. Though she enjoyed a good ride about town in one, especially one as lovely as Roland’s Rolls-Royce, she hardly found them entertaining dinner-table conversation. Roland, it would seem, could talk for hours—about the latest technology and how his business was perfectly suited to the blossoming trends in the market, whatever that meant.
Then again, his nonstop chatter meant that Jacquie was required to say relatively little, which suited her purposes just fine. Instead, she nibbled on a chicken-salad sandwich and sipped her tea, all the while fighting the temptation to look out the window. She hoped to catch Peter’s eyes just once more. Knowing he was right outside gave her the strength to bear this nonsense.
When the clock in the front hall struck twelve, Roland glanced her way and sighed. “I can’t believe the hour has passed so quickly. I’m sorry, ladies, but work beckons.” He eased his chair back and shrugged. “Do forgive me for going on so? I promise to let you do most of the talking once we’re married, Jacqueline.” He gave her a wink, which she almost found sweet. From the sparkle in his eyes, she could tell that his feelings for her must be growing. For a moment, she found herself feeling a bit sorry for him…until she realized how he would benefit from their potential union. Then, just as quickly, she released her guilt and breathed a sigh of relief.
Jacquie forced a smile and attempted to pacify him with humor. “And what will I talk about?”
His eyes sparkled with merriment. “Oh, whatever you like,” he said with the wave of a hand. “The latest fashions. Who’s courting who. Or would that be whom? Plans for your latest soiree. Anything and everything to keep my bride happy.”
“Except automobiles?” She gave him a mock serious look.
He chuckled. “I can’t promise that, but I will do my best. I can assure you, however, that you will be riding about town in the nicest one money can afford to buy. I do hope you like that idea.”
Had she been staying in London and actually marrying the man, she would have. The situation being what it was, she could only manage a meager response. “Sounds lovely.”
“A lovely coach for a lovely lady.” After a lingering smile, he rested his hand on the back of her chair then glanced at her mother. “I must thank you all for the pleasure of your company.”
“Always happy to have you, son,” Jacquie’s father said. He nodded in her direction and gave a wink. “This girl of mine is a pistol. Hope you can handle her.”
His words caught Jacquie off guard, but she tried not to react. Instead, she offered the wave of a hand followed by, “Oh, pooh.”
“I will give it my best shot, sir.” Roland turned her way. “Will you walk me to the door, Jacqueline?”
Her stomach lurched as he pulled her chair back. She’d avoided spending time alone with him for the most part but could do so no longer. Jacquie stood and took his proffered arm. She gave her mother a cursory glance then walked alongside Roland through the front hall. He paused at the door and brushed a loose hair from her face.
“It won’t be long now. You will be Mrs. Jacqueline Palmer, one of society’s finest ladies.”
“Mrs. Palmer.” She echoed the words, which seemed to please him.
He traced her cheek with his finger. Jacquie resisted the urge to cringe and, instead, offered him a convincing smile.
Roland took this as a sign and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “I don’t k
now what good thing I’ve possibly done to deserve an angel like you,” he said, “but I will spend the rest of my life thanking God for the opportunity to make you happy. I promise you will not be sorry you’ve accepted my hand, Jacqueline. I will do my best to be a good husband to you and a kind father to our children. Of that, you can be sure.”
His heartfelt words were not quite what she’d expected. Shame washed over Jacquie as she absorbed his tender dissertation. She blinked several times and tried to focus. Through the open window, she caught a glimpse of Peter working in the front garden. Jacquie eased her way to the right, hoping to catch a better look.
“Thank you for the lunch invitation.” Roland gave her fingers a little squeeze. “Everything was wonderful.”
Yes. Everything was wonderful. Only, the delicious feelings coursing through her right now had nothing in the world to do with Roland Palmer. In fact, she could scarcely wait to get him out the door so she could focus on the true object of her affections.
She followed Roland outside, her spirits coming alive as she caught a glimpse of Peter on the far side of the garden. He looked her way, his brow wrinkling as he watched Mr. Palmer offer one final kiss on the cheek.
No worries, Peter. You can put your jealousies to rest. Once this man is gone, I will sweep you into my arms and kiss away any concerns you might have.
Less than fifteen minutes after seeing Roland off, Jacquie headed to the family’s greenhouse to meet with Peter. Making her way through the gabled entry, she found him hard at work in the lovely glass room beneath the pitched roof, transferring roses from one pot to another. He looked over at her with a smile so warm, she felt sure it would melt her into a puddle. Her heart quickened as she took a couple of steps his way, beyond the row of lush ferns and into the domain of the brightly colored flowering plants.
Peter’s brown curls were disheveled, no doubt from the hard work, but she found them appealing, as always. And no other young man in town had green eyes so captivating that they transported her to heaven with just one glance.
Peter released his hold on the roses, slipped off his gloves, and pulled her into a familiar embrace. Jacquie felt a rush of excitement wash over her. No proper young woman would be caught in such a compromising position, of course. Still, how could she help herself? A stronger force pulled them together than could be denied, at least by one so smitten.
Jacquie leaned her head against his broad shoulders. His muscular physique offered a sense of protection from the troubles that had plagued her of late.
“I’ve missed you.” He planted several kisses along her hairline, sending tingles down her spine. “Why does it always have to be like this?”
“It doesn’t. Not for long, anyway. A lot has happened since we last spoke.”
“So I can see. That Palmer fellow has been here more times than I can count.” He balled his fists, and his eyes narrowed. “I’d take him down a notch or two, if…” Peter didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he just shook his head, his fists still as tight as before. Jacquie had seen him worked up before. Several times, in fact. But never like this.
She stroked his cheek with the back of her hand, hoping it would calm him down. “Roland isn’t a bad man. In fact, I daresay his trusting and genteel nature will serve our purposes just fine.”
“Serve our purposes?”
“Yes.” She gestured to a wrought-iron bench near the ferns, and they both sat together. “My boarding pass for the Titanic has arrived. I’m to leave on the tenth out of Southampton.”
The edges of his lips curled down and wrinkles appeared around those gorgeous green eyes. “That doesn’t give us much time together.”
She gripped his hand, a newfound excitement taking hold. “What would you say if I told you that we could have all the time in the world together, not just now, but forevermore?” A burst of sunlight shone through the glass roof as if to punctuate her words.
He offered a sudden, arresting grin. “I would say I am intrigued by that comment.”
Jacquie giggled. “I’m convinced I’ve come up with the perfect solution to our dilemma, one sure to change our lives for the better. And at no cost.” Other than losing the respect of my family, but surely they will understand—in time.
“Tell me.” He lifted her hand and gave the back of it a tender kiss.
“My ticket is for first class. Mama says it was very expensive. My grandmother only wants the finest for me. But what if—” She gazed into his beautiful eyes. “What if I gave it to you and you traded it in for two tickets?”
“Two tickets?” He looked perplexed.
“Yes, don’t you see? One for each of us. Less expensive tickets, of course. Second class, even. I don’t really mind about that. I’m sure we could still travel in style. Why, we could tell our children and grandchildren about the day we boarded the most famous ship in the world to escape our lives back in Europe. It’s going to make for a marvelous story.”
“Back in Europe?” He echoed her words, his grip on her hands loosening. “I—I don’t know, Jacquie.” His gaze shifted upward to the glass cupola.
“What do you mean?” For a moment, she felt sick. Could it be she’d misunderstood his feelings? She had considered this possibility only in passing, in fleeting moments of doubt. “You don’t want to go with me? I thought you would relish the idea of starting over in New York. No doubt you will find work there quickly, with your green thumb.” She gestured to the rows and rows of lovely plants, which he had cultivated and cared for. “I feel sure you will settle nicely in the States.”
“I—” He shrugged. “I just don’t know how I feel about leaving England. My family is here. You know our situation. My mother and sister depend on me now more than ever. They count on the money I send each month and on my care whenever my father goes through one of his…spells.”
She longed for him to explain further, but he did not. Still, the pained expression in his eyes spoke volumes. A lump rose to her throat and she forced back tears. Had he really just dismissed her idea? Could such a thing be possible? Perhaps her feelings for Peter had been in vain after all. Perhaps he didn’t care for her in the same way that she cared for him.
“I—I see,” she managed at last. She didn’t, of course, but would never say so. Jacquie swallowed hard and strengthened her resolve. Very well. She would make him love her. She would use her womanly wiles to accomplish the deed. A fluttering of eyelashes followed, her first attempt at flirtatious behavior set to win him over.
He didn’t seem to notice.
“Thank you for understanding.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Besides, I can’t help but think this is for the best for you as well. What would your grandmother say if you arrived in New York with a stranger in tow—a man, no less? She would send us both packing. We would end up on the streets with no place to go and no source of income.”
“I hadn’t thought about that.” Jacquie rose and began to pace, finally stopping directly in front of him. As he stood, she slipped her hands into his and gave them a squeeze, tears now stinging her eyes. “Oh, I don’t know, Peter. I only know that I love you, and I want to be with you—at any cost.” Perhaps her impassioned words gave away too much of her heart. Still, how could she hold back, with her heart in such a state?
He gave her a pensive look. “Honestly?”
“Yes.” She threw herself into his arms and the tears began in earnest as the weight of her situation took hold. If she couldn’t win him over with her charms, perhaps he would fall prey to her emotions.
“No crying, Jacquie. Not today.” He handed her a handkerchief. “Because I’ve had a few days to come up with an idea of my own, one that involves no travel across the Atlantic for either of us. I’m convinced that it will put a sparkle in your eyes and a smile on your face once again. In fact, I’m sure of it.”
“Oh?” She gazed at him, hope rushing over her.
Over the next several minutes he shared his plan—his delicious, heavenly plan�
��and she couldn’t help but smile. In fact, she might just go on smiling for the rest of her life.
Chapter Four
Saturday, March 30, 1912
Hotel DeVille, Paris, France
Nathan Patterson spent the better part of the dreary Saturday morning drawn into the pages of a fascinating novel. Though he tried to close the book to rest his eyes, he could not. The story held him spellbound. After nearly three hours, the pages complete, he left his suite at Paris’s famous Hotel DeVille and made his way to the door of his mother’s room. It took two knocks before her lady’s maid, Greta, answered.
Nathan walked into the room, beyond the fringed lamp on the intricately carved mahogany table, past the expensive landscape-themed paintings that hung in gilded frames on the far wall, and toward the woman in the soft yellow gown, who sat perched upon the edge of the canopy bed like a queen awaiting her subjects. Mother had never looked more regal. Or more perturbed.
“Nathan, there you are.” Her brow furrowed as she glanced his way. “I’ve been worried about you.”
“Oh?”
“Yes.” She released an exaggerated sigh. “What a morning this has been. My nerves are in a fragile state.”
An exaggeration, no doubt. Still, he would play along. Playing along was easier. “And why is that?”
“There’s just so much to do.” Mother extended her hand, and he took a few steps in her direction. “Are you all packed? We leave for London on the four thirty train.”
“Yes, I finished packing hours ago. Spent the rest of the morning reading.”
“The paper?” she asked. “I took a look at it myself. Did you read that marvelous article about Marie Curie? Quite the scandal, you know.” Mother fussed over a blouse and then passed it off to Greta, who folded it and placed it in the trunk.
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