“And?”
“The Titanic kept lurching, like a bloody ride. It dipped down at the bow so quickly. We started moving toward Lightoller, who was trying to cut the ropes to the collapsible. By then, water was rushing up on the deck; people were running everywhere, screaming, tripping. A passenger lay dead in a pool of bloody water, having been shot. I didn’t see who it was, nor who shot him. Then the ship lurched forward again, and a wave washed over the boat, covering us both. There was a whirlpool. I couldn’t … I didn’t … I couldn’t – I lost my grip,” he whispered the final words, as if they weren’t true if he didn’t say them aloud.
“No,” cried Cecilia. Georgie was in the ocean. Georgie was one of the people screaming, begging for mercy.
We left my sister to die, and I listened to her screams.
William diverted his gaze to the floor. “I’m so sorry, Celia. Eleonora. Eliana. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He wept openly, though he was not the only man to do so. “Not my Georgie. Anyone but my G.” He crumpled to the floor, and Cecilia, suddenly full of hope, knelt to him.
“But you survived,” she pointed out. “Georgie was taken by the wave, but you’re here. What happened? How did you survive?” she tried not to sound accusatory, though she wanted to lay blame at his feet. How could he have survived when Georgiana had not? It was ludicrous, that’s what it was. Anger surged through Cecilia’s veins. Georgiana wouldn’t leave me, she reminded herself.
William looked up at her, black bags resting under his eyes. “Once I lost Georgie, I let go, too,” he whispered. “I hoped that wherever she had been sucked, I would be taken with her. I was thrown from the ship, on the same wave that took the collapsible out. Litghtoller helped me up. I spent my night on the overturned capsule.”
“But that means Georgiana could’ve done the same!” Cecilia insisted. Why did everyone look so downcast? This was good news.
And it meant that it was possible that her father, Henry and George had survived, too. Henry.
Cecilia tried to shake Henry from her thoughts. She needed to focus on her sister.
“No, Cecilia, I don’t think she did,” William whispered. “There wasn’t a single woman on the collapsible. Not one. I’ve already asked, and while Lowe went back, he didn’t pull a woman from the ocean, either. One of the men we rescued during the night passed away while we were waiting to board the Carpathia. The captain hasn’t announced it, but there will be a funeral. Georgiana wasn’t picked up from the ocean, Celia.”
“But that doesn’t mean she wasn’t rescued,” Cecilia rebutted. “You don’t know. You said so yourself; you didn’t know what happened to her. You let go, but you didn’t even go in the same direction as her! How the hell am I meant to believe anything you say, William? You’re a coward! She should’ve been on a lifeboat! You should’ve made sure she reached one safely. What kind of husband are you?” Cecilia was screaming now, and she could feel Eliana trying to grab her to soothe her, and her mother wouldn’t stop crying. It would have been a circus if they didn’t resemble most passengers on the ship. It seemed as if no one had made it through the night unscathed. Some of the women who’d lost husbands and sons screamed at the women who had snuck their tiny dogs on the lifeboats with them. Some even screamed at random men, cursing them for being alive when their loved one wasn’t. One woman coldly told one of the men that she was ashamed he had survived when her husband had not. “You let her die, William! You let her die!”
William hugged Cecilia as she pounded her fists against his chest, her body sinking into his. “She’s dead because of me,” she finally whispered, after a few minutes of William whispering in her ear, telling her it was okay, she was okay, that he loved her, over and over and over again.
“No, Celia,” William said firmly. “This has nothing to do with you.”
“Yes, it is,” Cecilia cried, her screams punctured by William’s coat. “It’s my fault. I was … if she hadn’t waited – it’s my fault. I killed her.”
“It’s my fault,” Eliana countered, dropping to Carpathia’s deck, hugging Cecilia. “I made Mama leave with me.” Eleonora looked as if she were torn between agreeing with them both and blaming herself, and instead chose to remain silent.
“This will do no one any good,” William said firmly. “Let us retire. We’ve been given a cabin. Let us discuss everything else privately.”
“But what about Papa? And George? And Henry?”
“They weren’t on the survivor’s list,” Eliana whispered in her sister’s ear. Cecilia turned to look at her, and Eliana was filled with shame and anguish. “I don’t think they made it, Celia. They’re dead. Everyone is dead.”
Chapter Eighty-Three
Monday, April 15th, 1912
Eliana
“Where’s Daddy?” whined Primrose, for the fifteenth time since they’d boarded the Carpathia. It was late afternoon, and the steamer was already resuming Titanic’s route to New York. The idea that the Carpathia was sailing through ice fields consumed Eliana with dread and agony, but she knew that if she ever wanted to leave the ocean, she had no choice in the matter.
“I don’t know,” Eliana lied, also not for the first time. Primrose and Albert hadn’t stopped asking after George. Eliana knew she would have to tell her babies their father was never coming home, and they would never again see him, but all Eliana saw when she imagined telling her children of their father’s loss was her children weeping, telling her that they needed Daddy. Eliana would wish to cry with them, saying that she needed George as well, that she didn’t think she could be without him, and she could not inflict that upon her children. If she were able to retain their innocence, even just for a few hours, she would. And, she wasn’t the only passenger who had opted for that route; Madeleine Astor had scarcely left her cabin, and she had so far refused to accept Jack’s death; she kept stating that “There’s no way Jack would have died. He must have been rescued by another ship, is all”. Though, Eliana had noticed, Madeleine’s kindness, despite her grief, never seemed to waiver. When one of the passengers needed napkins when her monthlies came, and the stewardesses had told her that they had no available linen to spare, Madeleine and a few others had fashioned their own, so the woman would not be without. Eliana, who had spied the generosity and sincerity the women inspired, had asked Madeleine how she was travelling. She had then tried to inform her of Georgiana’s passing, but Madeleine had waved her off, saying, “She will be fine, Lady Eliana. She is with Jack. They shall meet with us in New York, and all shall be well again.”
Eliana had tried to explain that there did not appear to be hope for a second vessel, and that she had witnessed the bodies. There had been too many to miss, most huddled together in creepy circles. Madeleine had been a distinct shade of a tinged green pallor, and had replied, with determination only resolved to those refusing to accept reality, “Jack’s a good swimmer. There is not a chance only seven hundred of us survived, Lady Eliana. That includes your dear sister. No, I am sure and certain that Jack and Gigi are on another vessel. Why, I imagine Kitty’s by Jack’s side. She certainly never leaves it.” Eliana had not tried a second time to correct the young girl’s denial; what would it solve, after all? Eliana could tell by the girl’s tight pitch she did not believe herself, either; yet she, like many of the other passengers, were refusing to accept their loss unless it had been confirmed by visual identification.
Eliana knelt to her children; Eliana was playing with her doll; Albert was drawing on some paper. She frowned, wondering where he’d gotten it from.
“It’s dinner time. Would you like to go into the hall now, and sit with Granny and Aunty Celia and Uncle William?”
“He said he wouldn’t be away from us for long,” Albert pouted, ignoring his mother’s question. “And everyone’s sad. And I don’t like sleeping on the floor. Or sharing a room. When’s Daddy coming? Will he fix it? Daddy always fixes everything.”
Eliana blinked rapidly, pain radiating throug
hout her chest. “I don’t know, Albie,” she whispered, closing her eyes as tears splashed her cheeks, holding her children tightly to her breast. “I’m sure he won’t be too long. But I don’t know where he is.” Eliana caught Nanny’s eyes; they were narrow, pointed; she didn’t care for Eliana’s lie.
Eliana did not care.
In a few days, the Carpathia would arrive in New York.
In a few days, she would have no choice but to live a life without George. Her George. Her perfect George, her love-of-her-life George.
And, in a few days, her children’s lives would be changed irrevocably, once they realised Daddy would never come home. That daddy couldn’t keep his promise. That the Titanic’s captain, so reckless and foolhardy, had killed her husband. She hated him. She wished he had not died, so that he could face what he had done.
She knew it wasn’t rational. But Eliana couldn’t hate George for dying. She needed to direct her hatred to someone, and the captain had ultimately been responsible for the sinking.
At least she wasn’t screaming at men for surviving on the Boat Deck, like some women had taken to doing.
Eliana was a despicable person, who wantonly inflicted pain on those she loved. George went to his death believing Eliana did not love him as he did her, and Georgiana went to her death because Eliana had pushed Celia too far. Celia had fled her family, mostly as a result of Eliana’s antics. Eliana was fortunate Celia had managed to survive; she did not know if her mother could have borne the loss of two daughters instead of one. So far, Eleonora had not eaten; after crying hysterically earlier in the morning, she now appeared catatonic. One of the ship’s doctors had said it was shock, and to keep her warm, and perhaps try and slip her a Mickey Finn. Eliana didn’t believe her mother was in shock; rather that she had chosen to mentally exit the world.
If Eliana had the opportunity to lock everyone and everything out, she would choose that option as well.
For now, she had to stop behaving as a selfish beast, and protect her children. Her babies deserved to have a few days of normalcy in a life that was destined to be filled of torment and terror. They would go to their deaths never forgetting the screams that filled the night; she imagined they would never again sleep peacefully once they realised their father, grandfather, and aunt were among those they’d listened to die.
Eliana owed them a few days where they had an opportunity to rest.
She knew no one within her family would ever truly rest again.
Chapter Eighty-Four
Tuesday, April 16th, 1912
Hazel
Her Lady still hadn’t spoken since learning of Lady Georgiana’s death. Hazel did not blame her, for she was suffering too. However, Lady Eleonora’s long, blank stare, her refusal to eat or speak, shook Hazel to her bone. Hazel was grateful when one of the doctors slipped her a sedative. She was hoping when Her Lady awoke later today, she would have found use of her voice.
Hazel watched as Lady Eliana refused to let go of her grandchildren’s hands when they were moving about; she followed Bridget at every step, refusing to be without Lady Primrose and Master Albert, not even for a moment. Hazel could not fault her; she wasn’t sure and certain of the Carpathia’s capabilities; not when the Titanic – which was now somehow referred to as “unsinkable”, as if that were a claim she’d boasted in every ticket and poster – had foundered.
“Hazel,” called Lady Cecilia, breathlessly, before spying her sleeping mother. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I need to speak with you.”
Hazel sucked and held her breath, hoping Lady Cecilia was not about to ask her about Aiobheen. Aiobheen’s name had been read among the list of the dead, confirming what Hazel already knew, though Lady Cecilia, wrestling with her guilt and shame over Lady Georgiana’s untimely demise, likely did not know this.
Now a day had passed, she was likely searching for her friend.
And it had now come down to Hazel to tell Lady Cecilia the truth.
“I know this is impertinent, and you have your hands full with Mama,” began Lady Cecilia. And myself, thought Hazel, though it wasn’t Lady Cecilia’s place to question the needs and desires of her servants. She, too, had spent the night listening to the screams of the dead. She, too, had laid eyes on the Titanic’s wreckage. Yet her grief, along with many of the steerage, crew and other servants, appeared to go unnoticed. “But I’m not sure where I’m to find Aiobheen. You know, the small Irish girl? Loud voice? I can’t remember her last name, just her Christian one. I know it was O something, though I’m not sure if that’s terribly helpful. Is she in a different section of the ship? Like how the second and third passengers have their own section? Where is it that the crew are stationed, Wilson?”
Hazel slowly released her breath. She could hear the pleading in Cecilia’s tone; she was begging Hazel to confirm something she had not wished to accept herself. Hazel understood the power of denial better than anyone; half her life was hidden so that others would not see her depravity.
“I am sorry, My Lady Cecilia,” Hazel began, her voice as kind as she could muster. “I should have informed you myself, the sooner for it.”
“No,” Lady Cecilia whispered, her eyes – more blue-green than their usual grey – welled. “No, don’t say it, Hazel. Don’t you dare.”
“I am sorry, My Lady,” Hazel repeated.
“No! No, no, no,” Lady Cecilia wailed. “Why? Why, Hazel? Why? She woke me up! She knew about the iceberg first! Why didn’t she get on a boat? Why?”
Lady Cecilia crumpled to the floor, reminding Hazel of when the young woman was a wee little girl, all but three, coming to terms with the death of a small butterfly she had found twitching in the grass, begging Hazel to ‘fix it’.
Hazel knelt beside Lady Cecilia, grasping her bare hands. “I don’t know why,” Hazel murmured. “I did not see Aiobheen later in the night. I am not sure what kept her occupied. I do not know why she chose not to get into a lifeboat. I’m not even sure she was aware of the danger, not really. I was not, My Lady. I was not prepared … never did I believe she would sink. I don’t know why God felt fit to take such a bright young lady. Nor do I understand why he felt the need to take your Lord Father, Lord George, Mr Henry, or your beautiful sister.” Lady Cecilia’s cries heaved more, and Hazel became concerned the girl’s hysterics would cause her to vomit. Like her mother, Lady Cecilia had eaten very little, if anything at all. When she slept, she woke up screaming. Last night, Lady Eliana had sung to Lady Cecilia for hours.
“It’s my fault,” Lady Cecilia sobbed, holding onto Hazel as if she would die if she did not. “It’s all my fault, Hazel. If I hadn’t – if I hadn’t – Georgie would still be alive.”
Hazel tutted. She had yet to learn of where Lady Cecilia had disappeared to, but it was not her place to know. If she learnt, she would keep her Lady’s secrets as surely as she would keep Lady Eleonora’s. “I cannot think anyone would hold you responsible for the ship’s catastrophe. The Captain, perhaps, for not heeding the iceberg warnings, but not you, Lady Cecilia.”
Lady Cecilia looked at Hazel, her eyes red-rimmed, snot dangly from her nose. “Yes, it is. I put Georgiana in peril. I should never have chased after Henry,” she declared. “It was selfish, courting ruin with my family. My penance for my behaviour is the loss of my sister.”
“My Lady, I do not think God would take an innocent young woman’s life to spite someone he deemed a little selfish. I also think it’s the curse of Narcissus to believe that God would be so invested in one person’s life.” Hazel felt her words cold, but necessary. Lady Cecilia could not be allowed to live with her guilt, especially not when it was so ill-deserved.
Lady Cecilia nodded slowly. “That’s bold of you, Wilson.” Her tone was curt, and Hazel regretted her forthrightness. The ship’s sinking had not changed her station, nor had it turned Lady Cecilia’s. Lady Cecilia broke into a brilliant smile, her dimples deepening. “Yet somehow I know you’re right. It is arrogant of me, is it not? Thousands of peo
ple died, Wilson. But still, I miss her dearly.”
“I miss Lady Georgiana as well, Lady Cecilia,” Hazel replied, handing Her Lady a handkerchief as a tear rolled down her cheek. “I think it is possible we will miss her until our own time comes for us.”
Lady Cecilia nodded. “I keep pretending it’s all but a terrible dream,” she whispered. “I keep thinking, I’ll wake up, and I’ll tell Georgie about this ghastly nightmare I had, and she’ll laugh, and I’ll kiss Papa’s cheek, and wrap Georgie in a hug, and have my chance with Henry. Or perhaps I’d tell him it cannot work, and I would have been with my family. If I’d been with you all, Georgiana would have boarded with Mama and Eliana, like she should have. If she hadn’t sought to wait, she would be alive today. No one would have waited. Perhaps even Papa and George would have lived. Maybe they would have been able to board an earlier lifeboat, like Sir Cosmo did.”
Hazel did not know how to reply; she felt there was some truth to Lady Cecilia’s declaration. Had she not thought it herself? She had wanted Lady Cecilia’s happiness, but she had not cared for the way it distressed Her Lady Eleonora, and more so Albert’s vicious fights with his wife, as she begged him to send Lady Cecilia to America. It wasn’t that an arranged marriage – at least, one arranged of sorts that was mutually beneficial for all parties – was what Lady Eleonora protested; it was the separation from her youngest daughter.
Hazel was not quite sure what would happen now. With Henry’s death, Lady Cecilia did not have a suitor that might sweep her away. However, with Albert’s death, the familial decisions would by and large be left with Her Lady. Lady Eleonora had never approved of the marriage; would she approve it now? Or would she forfeit it – the Vanderbilts would not cause a scandal, Hazel knew, not after what the Gresham family suffered. The wealthy always continued as they had before; it was likely, unless there was to be an intervention, that the marriage would merely be delayed, instead of the engagement cancelled.
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