by Diane Hoh
Nola sighed and began fussing with her hair, which was already perfectly arranged. “What can you possibly have in common with someone like that?”
What we have in common, Elizabeth answered silently, is, our parents don’t want us making our own decisions. They want us to stay infants forever. Aloud, she said, “He tells interesting stories. He’s fun.”
Her mother frowned. “Alan isn’t fun?”
Elizabeth uttered a short laugh. “Mother, the word ‘fun’ isn’t even in Alan Reed’s vocabulary.”
“Well,” Nola said testily, “fun isn’t everything. It certainly won’t pay for the kind of clothes you wear, Elizabeth.”
Donning the heavily beaded jacket that topped the red dress and painfully aware, in view of her mother’s words, that the ensemble must have cost a small fortune, Elizabeth picked up the gold evening bag lying at the foot of the bed. “I know I love nice clothes, Mother. What girl doesn’t? But I promise you I could do without them if it meant going to college. And you can tell Father that for me. Anyway, I’m not planning to marry Maxwell Whittaker, whether he’s rich or poor. I’m just going to dinner with him.”
As Elizabeth left the cabin, her mother’s voice followed her. “I’m going to be keeping my eyes on you tonight, Elizabeth. Gossip on a ship runs rampant. I won’t have any nasty rumors traveling back to Alan. That could ruin everything.”
In the corridor, walking in the midst of other finely dressed couples making their way to dinner, Elizabeth thought that in order to be worried about “ruining everything,” you first had to really care about that “everything.” And she didn’t. It seemed to her, as things stood now, that “everything” could stand a little “ruining.” Right now, all she wanted to do was have a nice dinner in the restaurant without tension, without bickering, without unpleasantness. She would be so sweet and agreeable with Max and Lily, they wouldn’t need dessert.
If only they didn’t make her feel that three was a crowd.
They didn’t. To Elizabeth’s relief, Lily had made the acquaintance of another young man, a native of France who had been living in the United States for the past seven years. A sophomore at Princeton University, he was returning with his parents from an aunt’s funeral in Lourdes. His name was Arthur Duchamps. He seemed nice enough, and he was clearly quite taken with Lily. They conversed in French, which left Max and Elizabeth free to carry on their own conversation.
With Lily otherwise occupied, Elizabeth relaxed. Her parents had not yet arrived. They were probably entertaining themselves in the lounge before settling down to dinner. Elizabeth could only hope they’d take their time. Knowing her mother was watching her like a hawk from across the room would spoil any chance of a good time, no matter how lovely the restaurant.
And it was lovely. The paneling was lighter than other paneling on the ship, a soft, fawn shade. The carpet underfoot was softly shaded in two different rose tones, like a bed of crushed rose petals. While the room was larger than most restaurants, the linens and crystal were as fine as any Elizabeth had seen elsewhere. The room was noisy, but pleasantly so, with the sounds of lively conversation and laughter, of friends greeting friends, the pinging sounds of cutlery against dinnerware, of chairs being swooshed back into place, and with the activities of the bustling waiters, though they seemed to be trying hard to be discreet.
“I like it,” she announced when they were seated. “It’s really very nice.”
“Well, that’s grand,” Max replied as he unfolded his thick linen napkin and placed it on his lap. “Because if you disapproved, of course we would jump up immediately and leave.”
Instead of taking offense, Elizabeth laughed. “Sorry. It’s just that since my mother was so enthusiastic about this place, I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about it. We so seldom like the same things.”
He smiled. “I know exactly what you mean.”
Heartened by this sudden show of understanding, Elizabeth felt suddenly ravenous, and picked up the elaborate menu. She settled on filet mignon, medium-rare, a choice Lily commented on with disapproval. Saying that fish was a much more sensible choice, she added, “You wish to keep the good figure, do you not? Food that comes from the sea will do that for you, but never the cows that graze in a field stuffing themselves with grass and hay.”
Since Lily herself was as slender as a sapling, it seemed futile to argue with her. And Elizabeth was in too good a mood to become annoyed. It was very freeing to be eating a meal without her parents present. She felt almost giddy, and laughed again, saying, “I’m sure you’re right, Lily. And I do like fish. I just don’t feel like eating it tonight.”
“Me, either,” Max said, laying aside his menu. “Filet mignon sounds just about right. I’ll have it, too.”
“Are you sure?” Elizabeth asked. She laughed. “I thought you came here for French food.”
Max cocked an eyebrow at her. “You’re forgetting your French. Filet? Mignon? Both French words, are they not?”
Laughing, Elizabeth replied, “Well, it’s an American dish now, and you know it, Max. I think of French food as escargot, pâté de foie gras, peaches in chartreuse jelly, château potatoes.” She pointed to the menu. “They’re all on here, if you want them.”
“I want what you’re having.” He kept his eyes on hers as he said this. Elizabeth glanced around nervously to see if her parents might have entered the room while she was hidden behind the menu.
They hadn’t. But they might, at any second. She should tell Max to sit back in his chair instead of leaning toward her the way he was, with his eyes boring into hers as if he were trying to see into the back of her skull. She should.
But she didn’t. She liked the attention. She hadn’t failed to notice the admiring glances sent Max’s way from other young women in the restaurant, women older than she but still young enough to be interested in a good-looking young man. No one had ever looked envious on the few occasions when she was with Alan in public.
Still, her parents could walk in at any moment. Better safe than sorry, Elizabeth told herself, and quickly began listing the restaurant’s wonderful qualities: the furnishings, the atmosphere, the beautiful flowers on the table. After just a sentence or two, Max took the hint and sat back in his chair, the expression on his face one of disappointment.
Elizabeth sighed. It would have been fun to flirt with him, at least until they disagreed again, which was sure to happen soon enough. But she didn’t dare. Arousing her mother’s ire was exactly the wrong thing to do when you wanted something from her. And Elizabeth wanted something from her.
“So,” she said to Max with false cheerfulness, “tell me everything you haven’t already told me about living in Paris.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I’ve told you enough about me. What about you? Have you always lived in New York? Where else have you traveled, besides Paris and London? I want to know everything.” He was leaning toward her again, his chin propped on an elbow improperly resting on the table. “What are your hobbies? What’s your favorite color? Does your mother allow you any athletics and if so, what are they? Where do you want to go to college and why do you want to go? And why can’t you? Why are you planning to marry a man you don’t love?”
Elizabeth gasped, staring at him in horror. The questions had started off innocently enough. She would have answered the first few willingly. But then he’d gone too far. If Lily and Arthur hadn’t been deeply engaged in their own conversation, they would have overheard and then Elizabeth would have left the room out of embarrassment.
Because they weren’t listening, had not in fact heard a word Max said, Elizabeth’s anger faded as quickly as it had come. She needed to talk to someone, someone her own age, someone who might understand what she was feeling. Who better than Max? He was not only her own age, he had defied his parents successfully, at least for a period of time. That was more than she had ever done. Perhaps he could tell her what to do.
Besides, once the trip was over, she need never see M
ax Whittaker again, so anything she told him now wouldn’t matter in the slightest.
Making up her mind to confide in him, Elizabeth glanced once more around the room to make certain her parents hadn’t arrived. Thus assured, she leaned slightly toward Max and began, “I want to go to Vassar, because…”
While Elizabeth was conversing with Max in the restaurant on B deck, Katie Hanrahan, flanked by two small children and their nanny, Eileen O’Keefe, stood slightly behind Brian and Patrick in the entrance to the third-class dining room on F deck amidships. Katie’s eyes were open wide, as was her mouth. “My,” she declared softly, her delighted gaze sweeping the room, “isn’t it grand, then?”
It was, indeed, quite grand, unlike anything she had ever seen before. She had anticipated a bare-floored room with long, functional wooden tables and uncomfortable benches. The benches would be so crowded, there would hardly be room to lift a fork to one’s mouth. But this was not the case in the dining salon. The room was large, its walls enameled a bright, shiny white and decorated with posters of seafaring ships. There were chairs, not benches, and they looked comfortable. The tables were covered with fine white cloths. It was a bright, attractive room.
Katie had expected to stand in line to receive her food. To her amazement, people were already seated at the tables, and waiters in uniform were circulating with trays.
“And are we havin’ waiters, too?” Eileen whispered in awe, spotting one of the dark-jacketed gentlemen carrying a tray filled with glasses. “Men waitin’ on me, sure and that’s a wonder! Wait’ll I tell Sean. He’ll be green as the grass of Ireland with envy.”
Katie noticed Brian peering around the room as if he’d lost something, and guessed instantly who he was looking for. Marta. Katie looked, too, but didn’t see her.
“There’s another dining room on the other side of the bulkhead,” a young waiter said, noticing as he passed them that they seemed to be looking for someone. “Could be whoever you’re seeking is in that room.”
Without a word, Brian turned on his heels and went to examine the second room. Katie and the others followed, with Paddy complaining that he was hungry and what was Brian looking for, anyway?
It seemed clear to Katie that Brian hadn’t shared with his younger brother the news of his new and very pretty shipboard acquaintance. Maybe he was afraid his brother would try to steal her. And Paddy himself had no doubt been too busy fostering his own long list of female acquaintanceships.
Marta was seated at a table near the rear of the room. But when Brian saw that she was surrounded by the friends she was traveling with, he ducked back out of the room. “Let’s eat in the first one, then,” he said gruffly, and again led the way.
“What was that all about?” Paddy queried, but Brian had already chosen a table and was helping the two children with their chairs. Marta’s name wasn’t mentioned. Paddy took a seat beside Eileen, and seemed surprised when Brian failed to take the empty chair next to Katie’s. He frowned, looking confused. After a moment, he got up and slid into the chair. “You shouldn’t be sittin’ here all alone,” he said gruffly, aiming a hostile look at his brother. “What’s ditherin’ him, anyway? He’s not taken a shine to that nanny, has he?”
Katie laughed. “Eileen? She’s engaged. To a boy from Cork. And Brian can sit anywhere he wants to.” Thinking he had sat down beside her out of a sense of duty, she said archly, “And I can take care of meself, y’know.”
He looked at her. “Aye, you can. But you shouldn’t have to. ’Tis Brian’s job.”
Brian wasn’t sitting that far away, just two chairs down. “Hush!” Katie remonstrated, putting a finger to her lips. “’Tisn’t his job at all, and I don’t know where you got such an idea. ’Tis my job, now that I’ve left home, and my job alone.”
Paddy looked unconvinced, and might have continued to argue had not the little girl, Bridey, complained loudly that she wanted nothing but bread pudding for dinner and Eileen hadn’t better give her anything else or she would throw it on the floor.
Everyone around them laughed.
The food could have tasted like sawdust, and still Katie would have been impressed. She felt as if she were dining in a fine restaurant, and tried very hard not to feel self-conscious. If she was going to spend her life entertaining in public, she really would have to become much more sophisticated, she decided. She would begin practicing now, by behaving in a ladylike, grown-up manner and not exclaiming over every wonderful thing that she saw, as if she had never in her life before seen anything wondrous. Which wasn’t exactly true, because she had seen one or two castles in her lifetime, and anyway, the rugged coast of Ireland was a thing of beauty all by itself.
But she couldn’t help exclaiming over the food. Not only was there enough of it on her plate to feed herself and two others, but the sausage was wonderfully spicy, the mashed potatoes hot and creamy, the apple-and-rice side dish perfectly seasoned, at least to her palate. She hadn’t eaten much during their long trip to Queenstown, and it had been a long day for her. She was starving. It seemed to her as the table became laden that she had come to exactly the right place.
Once or twice during the pleasant meal, she wondered again why Paddy thought it was Brian’s job to look out for her, but each time the thought occurred to her, Paddy was deep in an animated conversation with someone else at the table and she didn’t want to interrupt.
When she was full, Katie lay down her fork and smiled widely. She felt warm and safe and satisfied. Her da had been right. Traveling on the Titanic was a wonderful way to get to America.
Chapter 10
Thursday, April 11, 1912
After dinner, Max insisted they all go next door to the Parisian sidewalk café. “Of course,” he added with a smile, “there is no sidewalk and it is not, technically speaking, outdoors. But it is decorated to resemble a café, and the waiters speak French, so we can imagine the rest, can’t we?”
Elizabeth protested that it wouldn’t be as warm and cozy as the lounge. Lily laughed and tossed her long, dark hair, saying, “Ah, Elizabeth, comfort should not always be the most important thing. Is not fun important to you also?”
“It’s hard to have fun when I’m cold,” Elizabeth answered, but her tone was pleasant enough. She was determined not to ruin the evening. And the fact that her parents had not yet arrived served to maintain her good mood.
The Farrs appeared in the doorway just as the quartet was leaving. Nola was laughing at something her husband had just said, and her cheeks were high with color, proving that she, too, was having a good time.
She’ll be in a pleasant frame of mind later, Elizabeth told herself happily. And because she is, Father will be, too. I would be wise to take advantage of that. I’ll have to make a point of getting back to the cabin before they retire.
But Nola’s smile disappeared when Max appeared at Elizabeth’s elbow. She was barely civil as she greeted them.
“Whew!” Max said under his breath to Elizabeth as they entered the Parisian café. “She really isn’t one of my fans, is she? Have I done something to offend her?”
Yes, Elizabeth thought, you defied your parents. She was glad Max had noticed her mother’s coolness. Perhaps now he would understand why she was so anxious about her own future. But she didn’t want to discuss that now. She was here to have fun, as Lily had said. “I think it was your haircut when she first met you,” Elizabeth answered smoothly. “Even though you’ve had it cut since, she disapproved. It didn’t meet her standards. But then, almost nothing does.”
“Will she forgive me?”
“Probably not. But it doesn’t really matter, does it?”
Max fixed a skeptical eye on Elizabeth as a waiter, conversing in French with Lily and Arthur, ushered them to a table. When Max asked in a low voice, “Why am I getting the feeling that if your mother did like me, you wouldn’t be here with me now?” Elizabeth just stared at him.
They sat down, Max beside Elizabeth, Arthur’s and Lily’s barrel-ba
cked rattan chairs side by side. Greenery trailed up white trellises along the walls, a whimsical but attractive detail. The round, heavy tables were crowded with passengers, all of whom seemed to be having a good time. But Elizabeth was focused on Max’s strange remark. “You think I’m here to spite my mother? That if she approved of you, I wouldn’t? You think I’m that vindictive?”
He shook his head. “No, not vindictive. But the thought crossed my mind that you might be using me to get back at her. I saw you watching the doorway all through dinner. As if you were hoping she’d show up and see you sitting with me.”
Elizabeth laughed. “If that’s what you thought, you’re not nearly as smart as I gave you credit for. It was just the opposite. I was dreading their arrival. I knew she’d be watching me like a hawk every single second. In fact, she said as much when I was leaving the cabin. She’s very afraid rumors will get back to Alan. I’m not, but she is.”
Lily and Arthur stopped talking suddenly, and all Max could say was, “Really? That’s the truth of it?”
“That’s the truth of it.”
He looked satisfied then, and since neither Lily nor Arthur was impolite enough to ask what they’d been talking about, the conversation turned to the delightful atmosphere of the café.
When their pleasant interlude in the Parisian café came to an end, Arthur invited Lily to stroll the promenade with him. Max suggested that he and Elizabeth go up to the boat deck for a last look at the stars before retiring for the evening.
“How do you know there are any stars out tonight?” she teased as they moved on up the staircase to A deck. “It could be cloudy.”
“It’s not. I promise.”
He was right. The sky was clear, the stars sparkling overhead in a vast, velvety sky that seemed endless, as did the flat expanse of sea surrounding the ship like a dark carpet. The sweet strains of a waltz sounded faintly from somewhere below, and although the air was cold, Elizabeth’s red-beaded jacket was heavy and lined with silk. She wasn’t cold.
