“Still, it’s a bit ostentatious,” Georgiana replied, biting her lip to keep from laughing.
“What is?” asked a bewildered Cecilia.
“Mr Hamilton’s our most gracious servant.”
“Oh, shut up, would you?” Cecilia snapped, but she smiled slightly, so that Georgiana knew her comment was in jest, not in malice.
William and Henry returned – Henry, empty-handed, much to Georgiana’s relief – and William wrapped a beautiful lace shawl around his wife’s shoulders. “Jack got one just like this for Madeleine,” William said, his tone pleased; if it was good enough for the Astors, it certainly was good enough for William. Georgiana tried not to let her husband’s fickleness bother her; she loved William because of his sweet nature. It would be wrong to be annoyed because he admired others so, when that was one of the qualities she’d found her so attracted to. “I swear, that man’s got a wad of notes thicker than your father’s.”
“William!” scolded Georgiana. “Don’t be so crass. It’s unseemly to talk of money, especially in company.” Georgiana eyed Henry coldly, so that he was aware of his place. Henry gave a slight nod, indicating he’d received Georgiana’s message.
William shrugged. “Our life is defined by money. I don’t know why so many of us pretend it’s not the case, when we do all but wear it. Half the passengers likely already know what I paid for what’s wrapped around your shoulders, and I can assure you, that was not a cheap shawl. You really will be talked about. So will Madeleine; Jack spent three hundred pounds on hers. You could tell many of the ladies were jealous; their whispers became more fevered once Jack made the purchase.”
“Please, William,” Georgiana urged, and William shrugged again, though he fell silent. “I don’t like it. And we should not talk of Jack and Madeleine so in front of a man that has just made our acquaintance. It’s rude and uncouth and I won’t have it.”
“Let us take to the Verandah Café, then,” Henry said, his voice louder and firmer than it had been previously, something that both surprised Georgiana, and despite her initial disapproval and small frown she wore on her face, had somewhat earnt her respect more than his overly obliging behaviour had just a few moments before. A man worthy of respect knew how important it was to earn it, not ask for it. She was particularly glad he’d spoken up; sometimes William could become wrapped up in the principle of the matter, he would not always realise he was flogging a dead horse.
“Yes, lets,” Georgiana agreed, walking alongside her sister, so that she would not appear to be unaccompanied, and they walked through the Boat Deck glass wooden door, entering the grand staircase from the very top, the bright glow of the enormous chandelier filtering sunlight down upon the group.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Thursday, April 11th, 1912
Cecilia
Cecilia, who was dressed in a far less formal outfit than her sister, was wearing a pale blue silk and lace dress, with blue stockings and matching blue satin kitten heels, and long gloves that almost tucked into her long, lace sleeves that covered her bodice, was still one of the best-dressed women on board the ship. It was also something that was a requirement of being a Gresham; she had to illustrate her prestige by consistently changing for almost every meal onboard the ship. Her clothing demonstrated her wealth, her reputation, and her status. While she couldn’t deny the thrill of being fitted for a beautiful new dress, of visiting Lucille’s with her Mama or her sisters, she felt entrapped by the rigid rules British society enforced upon her, especially without ever understanding why half of them existed.
As they entered the smoking section of the Verandah Café – the non-smoking section was reserved more for children and women – they were led through the revolving door to a beautiful table, fit with four wicker chairs. Cecilia thoroughly enjoyed the airy, spacious café that resembled something she would find on a trip to London or a visit in Paris, as opposed to a restaurant onboard the ship. It sported large arch windows, which gave Cecilia a prime view of the sea.
Immediately following the women, the men seated, and the party was immediately greeted with fresh water, tea and coffee. Cecilia and Georgiana accepted their tea with milk and sugar, whereas William requested a scotch and Henry stuck with water. The waiters, in rotation, began serving a delightful selection of petit fours: mini chocolate eclairs; a collection of French macrons including Cecilia’s favourite, pistachio; Danish blueberry and apricot pastries; lemon curd squares, and caramel tarts. Each guest made their selections, with the waiters always hovering nearby, ready to fill a glass once a sip was taken, or an order if one was issued.
Cecilia longed to place a pistachio macron in her mouth, but she patiently waited for her sister to take a bite; she couldn’t help but wonder if Georgiana was relishing the power she was currently wielding, being the host of the morning tea. Cecilia tried not to pout; yesterday, at this time, she could not have wished for anything more than to be reunited with Georgiana. Now, it felt as if her beloved sister was morphing into Eliana.
Despite eating a full breakfast in the Dining Saloon with Primrose and Albert, the idea of the petit fours was all-consuming. As Georgiana raised her fork – she had cut off a sliver of a chocolate éclair – and took a bite, the others followed suit. Cecilia was sure her sister was trying to vex her, though it was hard to tell. She wasn’t normally the type, not like Eliana who never wasted an opportunity, yet she seemed determined to prolong the torturous event as they waited by and by Georgiana’s hosting cues.
“So, tell me, Mr Hamilton, what is it about cinetography that compelled you to make it your life’s work?”
Henry, who had selected several blueberry Danishes, did not balk at Cecilia’s sister’s directness.
“Everything, Lady Georgiana,” he replied. “I love the ability that we now have to capture a moving moment. Why, I heard that some people fled Edison’s viewing of the waves at the beach, out of fear they would be wet! Imagine the overarching genius such a contraption could inspire, especially with cine technology developing so rapidly. If we’re able to capture these moments, then we have the ability to log them forever. Even if we’ve faded, our legacies all but dust, our offspring will have the freedom to enhance any memory of a forgotten past. Imagine all the wonderful things that moving pictures could create. There’s a growing passion for these things, and I had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of Miss Dorothy Gibson last night, in the Dining Saloon.”
Cecilia felt a pang of something – was it envy? – she wasn’t sure. It was a feeling she’d rarely experienced before, and it hit her sharply, leaving her feeling uneasy, as if the ship – still docked – had hit a tumultuous wave and she’d lost her balance for a moment. It was a dark feeling, one Cecilia hoped she would never experience again, though at the same time, she could not shake it. She’d heard of Dorothy Gibson, of course, but her parents had always described her as a painted lady, believing actresses to be little more than common whores. If possible, Lord and Lady Gresham would do their best to avoid any situations where they would be forced to make Dorothy Gibson’s acquaintance.
Until she had heard Dorothy’s name fall out of Henry’s mouth, Cecilia had felt rather indifferent about the entire affair; she felt her parents’ judgements signified their conservative, aristocratic values. Her parents were kind, decent people – as long as they believed the people that were in their circle belonged to their circle. As they favoured titles, money and land – in that precise order – they tended to look down upon those that didn’t. They didn’t like foreigners and made their opinion of Italians quite clear.
Cecilia had thought she was above that, until now. She had heard Dorothy Gibson was a great beauty, and she had likely seen her portrait in La Mode before, even if she could not currently place a name to the face. Now, she was angry that such a woman, a woman beneath her, could steal Henry away.
And she was ashamed she felt such emotions, especially so fiercely. It would not be Dorothy Gibson's fault if she attracted
Henry’s attention; as well, she had an informal arrangement to marry another man when she arrived in New York – one that was only informal in the sense that there wasn’t a signed contract. In some ways, Cecilia was surprised. Her father’s intent on seeing through the marriage had dominated the Gresham family for some months now. No, if Henry sought Miss Gibson’s attention, she had no right to be angry.
Though she couldn’t help but hope Miss Gibson’s attentions lay elsewhere, like the papers had said, or that she wore a lot of makeup to hide the fact that she wasn’t very pretty in real life. I’ve become Eliana, Cecilia thought with disgust, though try as she might, she couldn’t shake the feeling.
“Oh?” Cecilia inquired. “What was Miss Gibson like?”
Georgiana shot her sister a look; Cecilia knew the question was bordering inappropriate, but she relished his answer regardless. Envy was burning inside her, spreading as if a poison was injected into her veins, turning her into some monster, like that Hyde fellow.
“Yes; pray, tell us,” Georgiana’s cold tone bore into Cecilia’s mind, reminding her of her precarious position.
“She was splendid,” Henry replied, his tone mannered and controlled. “She told me of her joy starring in Hands Across the Sea. I’m surprised you haven’t made her acquaintance, Lady Georgiana.”
“Oh? And why is that, pray tell?”
“Well, after she finished a string of silent films, she holidayed abroad in Europe, and boarded the Nomadic with you and Lord William at Cherbourg. I naturally assumed, on such a small vessel, you would have made her acquaintance.”
“Alone?”
“No, My Lady. She’s accompanied with her mother.”
Georgiana nodded approvingly. “I imagine she’s trying to recoup her reputation, after beginning that ghastly affair.” So, the papers were right.
“Georgiana,” reprimanded William, pleasing Cecilia, though she tried in vain to hide it. Georgiana shot her a nasty look, prompting Cecilia to focus on her white napkin – that bore the White Star Line’s insignia – intently.
“I have no personal knowledge of any of Miss Gibson’s personal affairs, Lady Georgiana, but she seemed a charming and respectable woman to me. I would not care to comment on affairs I know so little about.”
“And let us say no more about Miss Gibson’s character,” William confirmed, glaring at Georgiana. “It is not for us to judge and speculate about a person’s private life. Would you not agree, Georgie? You certainly don’t like it when people speak ill of Madeleine.”
Georgiana mumbled a reply, one Cecilia couldn’t quite catch. Instead, she focused her attention on Henry, trying not to feel too pleased by her sister’s confession of Dorothy Gibson’s indiscretions. Again, the relief that washed over her left her feeling malaise; she did not like to feel as though she was locked in an imaginary competition with a woman she had not even laid eyes upon. Not only was it absurdity, she was arranged to be with another man, and she was upset he’d made an acquaintance of another woman? Did Cecilia’s wretched ego know no bounds?
“I’m sorry for my abrupt leave yesterday,” Cecilia began, hoping her voice did not sound as desperate as she felt. She hoped that she didn’t catch the attention of Georgiana and William, who were currently bickering about whether it was acceptable or not to enquire after a person’s relationship status. Cecilia didn’t think it was, but she also preferred the idea that Miss Dorothy Gibson was engaged in affections with someone else. “I felt unjustly evaluated, and as a result, I judged you harshly. That wasn’t fair, nor was it kind. I immediately regretted my decision; I felt like a spoilt brat, rushing out on you.”
Henry smiled. “It’s not for you to be sorry, Lady Cecilia,” he said, and Cecilia noted his formality for appearance’s sake, though it struck a chord deep inside her heart. In so many ways, she wanted him to be familiar with her, societal consequences be damned. She’d never kissed a man before, and yet she found herself longing to kiss the gentleman sitting across the table from her. “Rather, it is for me to apologise. I have no understanding of the formal arrangements between yourself and your family, and I had no right to share an unsolicited opinion with you so boldly. You were right to take your leave, and right to take offence. I believe I behaved appallingly yesterday, and not at all the way a man of genteel birth should. I was unseemly common, especially with my parting comment.”
Cecilia confirmed to see that her sister was immersed in her conversation with William – the two appeared to be bickering lightly, but affectionately, the way newly married couples often did – before leaning closer to whisper a reply to Henry. “No; I think perhaps you were partially right. I took offence to an inconvenient truth – but that’s also the awful truth, isn’t it? I’m a woman. I have no control over my destiny; my destiny is to follow my father’s rules until I’m fit to be married, then it is my job to look to my husband, and I am supposed to listen to his command. The problem is, I don’t want to follow anyone’s law but God’s. I want to be someone’s partner, not someone’s servant – and I fear that’s what my future brings, after we dock in New York. The Vanderbilts want to secure a title to boost their prestige, and in return, my parents will have a handsome reward in return for me. Mama and Papa wouldn’t have consented a marriage to a peerage without a title if the money wasn’t ostensibly worth it.”
“I had wondered,” mused Henry. “So many of our kind seek titles before money as it adds prestige to lineage. American women usually marry British lords, not the other way around. Would the Vanderbilts not be interested in your dowry?”
“It’s not desirable, I’ll admit,” Cecilia confided. “And no, they’re not interested in Papa’s money. They’ve enough of their own, and I think they want to ensure that Papa knows they do. It’s the idea of their son marrying someone so prestigious – they’re hoping, with his ‘chiselled looks’ – as they’ve so described – he can maybe run as a senator. He’s friends with this Kennedy family, though I’m not acquainted with them. I know the Kennedy patriarch takes his family alliances seriously, but that’s all Thomas has really written me. The rest is awful, truly awful. I’ve had to leave behind my own lady’s maid, as I could not ask her to relinquish her life in England to follow me to America; and I knew she didn’t want to come. I won’t be able to see my family often, as my soon-to-be fiancé is determined to continue with the railroad industry his grandfather erected, and has written many times to inform me that he finds London rather dreary. It’s a lot to sacrifice, to appease the happiness and wills of others. And I don’t love Thomas,” Cecilia boldly declared. “He’s kind. He’s lovely, actually. But I don’t love him.”
As the waiters began moving in succession – plying the guests with platters of assorted fresh fruits, dried fruits, cheese and biscuits – Cecilia knew her time was quickly running out. Georgiana would wish to retire to rest before luncheon, or perhaps take an intimate stroll on the Boat Deck with her husband, but she would not be inclined to extend a prolonged invitation. Cecilia had managed to escape freely yesterday when she visited Henry in the Reading and Writing Room without a companion, but even on a ship where she could lose herself a hundred times over and never find the same place twice, there were too many watching eyes. All of whom had been handed the same passenger manifest she had, and many of whom would be eager to spot British royalty, a novel sight for many Americans travelling, many of which would undoubtedly be acquainted with the Vanderbilts.
Eyes that would eagerly report back any indiscretions, relishing the gossip of the high falling so mightily.
Indeed, Georgiana’s declaration of Dorothy Gibson’s notorious reputation proved that Cecilia didn’t need to look beyond her own family to see that she would not ever be truly free of scorn.
“I would like to see you again,” Cecilia declared, her voice low. “I know that’s terribly forward of me, but I know you won’t broach the subject – you are too much of a gentleman to repeat yesterday’s mistake thrice. And I do know it’s inappropria
te, and I should not meet you unaccompanied. Nonetheless, I must see you.”
Concern, instead of happiness, filled Henry’s eyes; Cecilia feared he would openly reject her, or worse, humiliate her. Perhaps he found her to be a frivolous child, not worthy of a romantic connection. Maybe he had found a real muse in Dorothy Gibson, who had dined with him in the Dining Saloon.
Perhaps the imaginings had all been in Cecilia’s mind. After all, they had never even touched; it would be unseemly.
However, as Henry held Cecilia’s gaze for a moment that was too long, too intimate, all of Cecilia’s anxieties vanished.
“I would like that too, Celia, though I’m not sure it’s wise. I don’t have a title to offer you, and I do not have the wealth of the Vanderbilts to sway your parents to overlook my lack of title. You have a future already established that I cannot possibly compete with, and to do so – to try and ensnare you from your family, would be an atrocious act on my behalf.”
Before Cecilia was able to persuade him otherwise, which she had planned with an impassioned speech in preparation for his refusal, William interrupted.
“Well, it was lovely to meet you, Mr Hamilton. While we have our plans to meet with another couple that has made our acquaintance for luncheon, I’d love to extend an invitation for you to join the Gresham family and us for dinner at The Ritz.”
Henry flushed, his white face a splotchy red. Cecilia imagined it was because he was unable to afford the additional extra luxury of The Ritz, and if he weren’t so clearly Georgiana’s host, he would undoubtedly be unable to afford dining with them in the café. However, talk of money was vulgar, and would certainly never be permitted among the company of women. Cecilia couldn’t help but wonder if William was testing Henry, though that seemed unlike William. He didn’t hold the same snobbish values as Georgiana, and frequently chastised her for strong opinions that she freely offered.
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