Queen of the Waves

by Janice Thompson

  Vivid memories of Pa’s hand pressed against her back arose. She pinched her eyes shut to close out the many times he had shoved her down until she had fully repented for being such a disappointment to him. Bile rose in her throat as she relived the latest prayer session.

  Jacquie gripped her hand. “Oh, Tessa. I am so sorry. You have endured so much.”

  A lump rose in Tessa’s throat, but she managed to speak over it. “Peter has saved me more than once from Pa’s wrath. But now that Peter is gone…” Her lashes grew damp, and she swiped at them with the back of her calloused hand. Just as quickly, she hid her hands behind her back. Would she always feel such shame? With Pa, and now with this girl?

  “You poor thing. Say no more.” Jacquie’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I can promise you one thing. You will never again offer up rock prayers. The only prayers you’ll need to pray are the ones for a safe voyage to a new life, one where men like your father don’t exist and prayers are answered with happily-ever-afters.”

  Jacquie slipped her arms around Tessa and pulled her into a sisterly hug. For the first time in her life, Tessa released the tears. She wept—not just for the pain Pa had inflicted, but for the pain she felt every time she thought about boarding that ship and leaving her brother behind.

  Still, she would do it. Out of love, she would do it.

  Chapter Seven

  Saturday, April 6, 1912

  Savoy Hotel, London, England

  On the Saturday before the Titanic sailed, Nathan Patterson found himself eager to head back to New York. Once he boarded the ship, his thoughts could transition fully to the work awaiting him back home at his father’s insurance company. In the meantime, Nathan sat across the dining table from his mother at the Savoy in Westminster, listening to her ramble on about the various stores she had visited during their stay in London. He gave an occasional nod but couldn’t keep up. Not that any of it held his interest anyway.

  Mother chattered on about the many people she hoped to meet once they boarded the Titanic. He pretended to listen, but his thoughts shifted back to his upcoming job with his father. The insurance business captivated his thoughts more often than not lately. Perhaps it had something to do with his desire to care for those less fortunate and tend to folks in their time of need. Wasn’t that the biblical mandate, after all—to defend the defenseless? And working with his father held great appeal. Never had he known a kinder man or one who so exemplified Christlikeness in all he did.

  “Nathan, what do you think of that?” Mother’s voice hinted of displeasure.

  “Hmm?” He glanced up from his cup of lukewarm tea into her narrowed eyes. “Think of what?”

  “I had a feeling you weren’t paying attention.” She almost lost her hold on the slice of beef dangling from the prongs of her fork but managed to catch it just in time and pop it into her mouth. Then she placed her fork on the table and dabbed at her lips with a lace-trimmed napkin. “I asked what you thought about going to the opera tonight. With only four days until we sail, I want to take advantage of every opportunity to get out among people. Once we arrive back in New York, I’ll be shut up in that musty old house without a chance to socialize. It vexes me to think about it.”

  “You will hardly be shut up away from society.” He chuckled. “You’ll have Margaret Hinkle over for tea the day we get back, and the two of you will schedule a canasta game with the other ladies within the week. From there, you will plan a tea party, and after that you will throw some sort of soiree to welcome one dignitary or another into the fold.”

  “True.” She sighed. “But back home I’m surrounded on every side by friends I don’t really care for. Spending time with them isn’t the same as going to the opera in London. And when will we ever get back to England? Besides, it will be a family affair tonight. James has asked us to accompany him. He paid a pretty penny for the tickets, too, snagging us seats on the third row. Can you believe it?”

  Nathan put his cup down on its matching saucer and released a slow breath. “Really, Mother? Isn’t it enough that we have to see James Carson so often at home? Must we really visit with him in London too?”

  “I thought you would be thrilled at this news.” Mother’s smile faded and her cheeks flamed pink. “James is the best sort of family friend. And he’s been so kind to us over the years.”

  “Too kind.” How could Nathan speak his mind without hurting Mother’s feelings? James Carson was a thoughtful, caring man, but presumptuous at best. Why he felt the need to turn up at every social function, Nathan could not be sure. If Mother didn’t watch her step, the gossips would have their way with her story, making far too much of her relationship with the man.

  Mother’s brow wrinkled and she pouted. “Well, I, for one, want to see the London Opera House’s production of La Bohème this evening. The paper gave it rave reviews. Won’t you consider coming with us?”

  Us? Nathan shook his head. “Are you saying that you will go with James even if I choose not to?” Surely not. Even Mother had enough common sense to know better than that. He hoped.

  She dabbed at her lips with a napkin. “The man is like an uncle to you, for heaven’s sake. And he’s your father’s dearest friend. Surely no one will question the fact that we’re spending a civil evening together—in a public setting, no less.” Her cheeks flushed. “Honestly, I can’t believe you’re making such a fuss. I just want one last night on the town before our ship sails. Now please tuck your stubbornness into your pocket and come with us. Let’s celebrate our time together.”

  “Fine.” He spoke the word, but it sounded false in light of how he felt. Something about this situation with his mother soured his thoughts and gave him cause to wonder. Still, he said nothing, only responding with a forced smile and nod. Though he cared little about what happened on the stage, he would go to the opera house, if for no other reason than to keep an eye on things in the third row.

  Tessa paced the front room of the tiny cottage where she’d spent the past week. Except for the occasional visit from Jacquie or Iris, she’d felt like a prisoner in the castle tower. In her quiet times she found herself aching for the farm, for the familiar routine of chasing Countess around the stall or cradling the baby piglets against her cheek. Strange, that she would swap the opportunity of a lifetime for a feisty porker and her babes, but at times the idea held appeal—and never more so than during etiquette lessons.

  “Try it again, Tessa.” Jacquie pointed to the delicate china place setting in front of her.

  Tessa shook off her ponderings and took a seat at the table. She stared at the plate and the various pieces of silverware surrounding it, finding herself more confused than ever as she looked at the spoon and knives on the right and the forks in their varying sizes on the left. She examined the butter-pat server with its delicate knife, and then her gaze shifted to the fruit fork. Ready to give up, she glanced over at Jacquie and sighed. “I just don’t think I can do this. I can never get it right.”

  “Now, please don’t fret, Tessa,” Jacquie said. “Chances are quite good that the other guests will be distracted with their chatter and won’t even notice that you’re confused. Just watch the ladies and do what they do.”

  “If I spend the whole meal watching them, I won’t eat a bite.” Tessa reached down and grabbed the roll from the table then yanked off a piece. Stuffing it into her mouth, she attempted to speak around it. “I’ll starve.”

  “No, you won’t. You’ll do just fine, trust me.” Jacquie spoke the words with sureness, but the worry lines on her forehead told a different story. “Now, if you’ve been invited to afternoon tea, offer to serve the others. It will put you in their good graces and show that you are comfortable as hostess.”

  “But I’m not comfortable as hostess,” Tessa huffed. She struggled with the desire to pick up all the forks and hurl them across the room. Instead, she silently counted to three then turned her gaze to her mentor. “I’m not comfortable with any of this. And no matter how many tim
es we go over it, I’m not sure I ever will be. Don’t you see? This is all so pointless.”

  “Don’t be silly. You have come leaps and bounds over the past ten days. I’m very proud of you. And your diction is coming along nicely too.” Jacquie beamed, clearly proud of herself for being such a great tutor. “But if you’re truly uncomfortable with serving, just choose to take your tea in your room while onboard the ship. Feign a headache. That’s what Mama does when she’s uncomfortable in a social setting. It works every time.”

  “I wouldn’t have to pretend to have a headache.” Tessa rolled her eyes.

  This got a laugh out of Jacquie, who returned to the lesson on table manners. As soon as they finished their tea, she turned her attention to discussing the latest fashions. Tessa took notes as Jacquie spoke but couldn’t make sense out of much of it. Who cared if charmeuse silk was in fashion? What did it matter, in the grand scheme of things? And why would she consider entering into a conversation about plumed hats, of all things?

  “Feathers should be kept on peacocks, where they belong,” she muttered.

  This got another laugh out of Jacquie, who lit into a conversation about the need for beautifully designed chapeaus. When she shifted the chatter from hats to politics, Tessa groaned and dropped her head into her hands in dramatic fashion. “I truly do have a headache,” she said. “This is wearing me out.”

  The clock chimed four times and Jacquie gasped as she glanced at it. “Is it really four o’clock?”

  “Yes.” And we’ve been sitting here since two o’clock, going over and over the same things we’ve discussed for ten days.

  Jacquie pushed the chair back and stood. “I have to go. Mother will be worried.”

  Fear coursed through Tessa. “You don’t think she’ll come looking for you, do you?”

  “No.” Jacquie shook her head. “She thinks I’m with my best friend, having tea.” She offered a smile and reached out to take Tessa by the hand. “Then again, I am having tea with a dear friend. You’ve become like a sister to me, Tessa. I’m truly going to miss you when you’re gone. I really mean that.”

  “And I you.” A lump rose in Tessa’s throat. She would miss Jacquie. A little. But she would miss Peter even more. And Countess, of course.

  Jacquie scurried toward the door. “I wish we had more time together, but I have to get back now. We’re going out tonight—to the opera.”

  Tessa tried to imagine what that would be like. Perhaps it would be a bit like the novels she read in secret, a fanciful world where problems did not exist.

  “I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.” Jacquie’s nose wrinkled. “I hope I’m not bored to tears sitting next to Roland. At least he got good seats. We’re up front near the orchestra, so close that I can see the performers without binoculars.” A sigh followed. “I love La Bohème. It’s a heart-wrenching love story, one filled with delights of every kind.” Her smile faded as quickly as it had arisen. “But such a tragic ending. Poor Mimi dies before she experiences all that love has to offer.” Jacquie released a little sigh then waved her good-byes and disappeared out the door.

  Left alone in the little cottage, Tessa thought about the opera house and wondered what it might be like to go to such a grand place. To hear the orchestra play, their majestic harmonies filling the air. To see the costumes in all their glorious, vibrant colors. To hear the tremor of the singers’ voices as they shared their woeful tales.

  Oh well. Right now she had a greater drama to play out. This one involved a very real heroine setting out on an adventure across the seas. Tessa only prayed the ending of her story was not as tragic as the one in La Bohème. Dying before one had a chance to experience love was highly overrated, after all.

  As Jacquie ran along the cobblestone path toward the manor, her thoughts tumbled madly. She spent a moment or two fretting over Tessa and whispered up a prayer that all would go well once the young woman boarded the ship.

  Not that the Almighty was in the business of helping people deceive others, but perhaps He would make an exception in this case. Surely the Lord cared deeply that she and Peter were so desperately in love. Wasn’t he the Author of love, after all? Of course. The reverend had said as much in his sermon just last Sunday. If the Lord instigated love, surely He would approve of going to such lengths to make it possible. She hoped.

  Jacquie ran across the little bridge, over the creek, and through the maze of beautifully sculpted bushes. When she arrived at the house, she paused to catch her breath. No point in making Mother worry about what she had been up to.

  Finally convinced that she had control of herself, Jacquie fussed with her hair and then entered the house. Iris met her in the foyer and pursed her lips then whispered, “She’s looking for you.”

  “I guessed as much. I will tell her that I got held up at Melinda’s house.”

  “You’d better go up now.”

  Jacquie climbed the stairs, holding tightly to the polished railing as she tried to steady her breathing. Along the way, she contemplated the letter she still needed to write to Grandmother, the one Tessa would carry with her aboard Titanic. Coming up with just the right words would be critical. Surely Gran would not put Tessa out on the street—would she? Jacquie pushed aside her concerns as she crafted the letter in her head. Tonight she would pen it, her words carefully chosen. Until then, she must remain focused.

  Seconds later she rapped on the door of the master suite, and her mother’s “Come in” rang out. Forcing a smile, Jacquie entered the room with shoulders squared and smile in place.

  “There you are.” Her mother took several quick steps in her direction. “It’s after four. We have to leave at five thirty.”

  “Yes, I’m sorry. Melinda and I were caught up in a lovely chat. I’m going to miss her so much when I leave.”

  The look in her mother’s eyes spoke of suspicion. “I have a feeling you were not with Melinda at all.”

  “O–oh?”

  “You’ve been slipping away to spend time with Peter, haven’t you?”

  A wave of relief washed over Jacquie. “Mother, I can assure you, I was not with Peter.” Not this time, anyway.

  “Well, good.” A smile turned up the edges of Mother’s lips. “I was afraid you were still pining for him, and that troubled me. I would hate to see you hurt in any way.” She gave Jacquie’s hand a squeeze. “Let me remind you that you are young. There are many wonderful young men out there.”

  “That’s true.” And most are horrible bores.

  Mama winked. “Who knows? You might meet one on the ship. More likely, in New York, once you settle in with your grandmother.” Her eyes sparkled with obvious delight. “Perhaps this whole lovely journey is part of some larger adventure to bring about your happiness.”

  Jacquie couldn’t have put it any better herself. Still, she knew better than to say so. “I will keep my eyes open for the ideal candidate,” she managed and then smiled, knowing that none fit the bill any better than the young man who kissed away her concerns every day when no one else was looking. He alone held the answers to any problems life might bring, and she would spend her life making him happy.

  Mama’s lashes grew damp. “Keep your eyes open for someone who can give you the world, sweet girl. You deserve it.”

  A rush of guilt swept over Jacquie at her mother’s proclamation. She did not deserve it, and yet she longed for it above all else.

  “And in the meantime, I suppose we will have to be agreeable with Mr. Palmer tonight. But look on the bright side, dear. This could very well be the last time you have to put up with him.”

  A strange twinge caught Jacquie off guard. “I don’t find him disagreeable, only dull. But this evening will give me ample opportunity to appear publicly with him before I leave.”

  “I can hardly believe our plan is all going so smoothly.” Jacquie’s mother chuckled. “I feel as if we’ve pulled off a bank heist. Such a covert operation, this. And to think, you even got a new wardrobe out of it.�
�� Her smile faded. “But it’s the strangest thing. I’d hoped you could wear the new pink satin this evening, and it’s turned up missing.”

  “Oh.” Jacquie fought to come up with a reason. “I asked Iris to take it back to Mrs. O’Shea to be taken in at the waist. With all that’s going on, I’ve dropped a few pounds.”

  “Lovely dilemma.” Her mother smiled. “One’s waist can never be too small.”

  “Yes.” Jacquie found herself in need of a change in the conversation. “Speaking of my wardrobe, did you manage to convince Father about going to Paris on the morning of the tenth?”

  “Yes, he doesn’t suspect a thing, thank goodness. He even advanced me a delightful amount of money to purchase specialty items for your trousseau while we’re there. For all of his flaws, your father is a very generous man.”

  Jacquie hated to comment, in part because she had never really focused on her father’s flaws and didn’t care to do so now. A wave of guilt passed over her as she thought about how she had deceived her father to get those new gowns, gowns she would never get to wear. Her guilt was magnified as she pondered the fact that Mama would eventually catch her in her game, as well. What would happen once her parents realized she had run off to marry Peter? Nausea gripped her suddenly, and she wondered if, perhaps, she could actually go through with this. The whole thing seemed strangely impossible at the moment. How complicated and twisted this had all become.