Eleonora nodded gratefully, though Albert continued to frown. “I hope you’re aware of the shame you’ve brought onto this family,” he hissed at his eldest daughter. “They talk not of your younger sister’s fictional romance, but of your ungodly behaviour.”
For a moment, Cecilia felt glee; then she noticed Eliana’s glassy brown eyes, so different to both her sisters, and shame washed over her. Was this the type of person she wanted to be, one who revelled in her sister’s pain?
“Well, then, I hope that’s sorted.”
“We’re so sorry we’re late,” Madeleine breathed, catching Cecilia by surprise. The men stood quickly, waiting for Jack to usher Madeleine into her seat, before taking theirs. “It’s my fault. I had a touch of morning sickness, though goodness knows why they would call it such a thing. It seems to happen at all hours, if I’m being perfectly honest. Dreadfully uncomfortable. Thank the Gods Jack hired a nurse to help me.”
“Jack, Madeleine, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” Albert said, smiling brilliantly. Cecilia loved how her father’s attitude could change at the drop of the hat; it was part of his charm, she supposed. As bitter and sour as her father could be, he could also be charming and sweet when it suited. “I am sorry to hear of your poor health, Madeleine. Have you seen the doctor? He’s a bit more refined than a nurse. My daughter, Lady Eliana, was discussing that she might see the fellow in the morrow.”
Jack smiled pleasantly, not allowing Albert’s tone to affect him. “Is Lady Eliana unwell?”
“I’ve been under the weather,” Eliana replied, jumping in, eager to make a different impression on the Astors. “And please, just Eliana. It’s kind of you, Colonel, but I don’t think the formalities are necessary.” Cecilia rolled her eyes and tried not to gag.
“Splendid idea,” Jack said, raising his whiskey glass, accompanied by three rocks. Cecilia wondered what would offend her father more; that Jack was drinking whiskey, not scotch; or that he’d tainted it with ice. The table raised their glasses – an assortment of wines and champagnes for the ladies, William and George; scotch for Henry and Albert, and whiskey for Jack – before Jack added, “to making friends.”
“You’re so lovely, Jack,” Eleonora gushed, her cheeks a hint of red, blotching from the wine. Cecilia had to agree; for all America’s faults, Jack did not seem to possess them; he was genteel as any British man she’d known, and Madeleine was the perfect picture of happiness and innocence. Jack’s accent did not even sound harsh to Cecilia’s ears, like so many Americans did.
“So, you met Henry, did you?” Albert said.
Jack looked surprised at Albert’s abruptness, but Madeleine seemed unperturbed; “Oh yes, he’s wonderful, do you not think, Lord Albert?” Cecilia tried not to smile too gratefully; though she could not help but cast a glance at Henry, gauging his opinion. He appeared to be staring intently at Cecilia. Her cheeks burned.
“Yes, the chap’s quite an interesting fellow,” Jack continued, and Cecilia could tell Jack was not as smooth at talking as his wife was. “Are you fond of moving cinetography, Albert?”
Albert shifted in his chair. “To be honest … my experience in that area is lacking.”
“Oh, Lord Albert, you are missing out so!” cried Madeleine, and Cecilia wondered if there wasn’t anything the woman couldn’t be excited for. She reminded Cecilia of her niece, Primrose, who had to point out every dog in the vicinity with the same fervour and gusto as if she’d never laid eyes on such a creature. “They are positively delightful! Sometimes, I am not sure how they manage to capture so many moving images! One of Jack and my first dates was to a cineplex, if I’m being quite frank.”
“Quite,” Albert responded. “Where is the Brown woman? I thought she was dining with us?”
“She is,” Jack said, frowning. “Her name is Maggie, Lord Albert, and she is a positively delightful woman. The Purser stalled her regarding news of a death in her family. It is the reason why she is travelling, as you may not understand. She received some news regarding the situation, though it is not my place to divulge such private intricacies.” Cecilia smiled as her father looked abashed; it was not easy for him to feel humility.
“That sounds terrible, for poor Mrs Brown,” Eleonora soothed, ever the peacemaker. Cecilia imagined her mother did not want a repetition of the night before.
“Oh, she’s dreadfully sore about it all,” Madeleine supplied, clearly grateful for Eleonora’s response. It did not come as a surprise to Cecilia; her father could be prickly, whereas her mother was not only still beautiful, more than most, and while she could be vain and snooty, she had a kindness that her father did not. “It’s been a painful loss for her. She was travelling with her daughter, Helen, who is studying at Sorbonne –”
“Studying?” spluttered Albert. “What do you mean, a girl is studying at a prestigious university in Paris?”
Madeleine looked uncomfortable; Eliana looked joyful; Eleonora looked like she wanted to ask the waiter to leave the bottle; Cecilia wondered when it would all end. Georgiana, however, jumped in. “Yes, father, it’s amazing what some women are allowed to do. Helen, according to Maggie, enjoys her studies immensely. Perhaps it’s thanks to Maggie’s involvement in the suffragette movement that she has a daughter who is wise, kind and beautiful.”
“I am not in the mood to jaunt or be scratched at, Georgiana,” her father warned.
“No; you’re in the mood to be a bitter sour puss.”
“Georgiana!” whispered Eleonora. “Please. This is meant to be a pleasant dinner; not all of us are even here, and already you’re ruining the night.”
“Mama, I don’t know what you mean,” interrupted Eliana. “I’m already enjoying the night immensely. I truly believe the night will improve when this delightful Maggie –”
“Yes?” Maggie stood, towering over Eliana. She was a larger woman than Cecilia had expected; she’d seen her, of course, but not up close. The woman radiated something of a je ne sais quoi, and she wondered if her father could feel that this wasn’t a woman he could push around. Maggie radiated confidence in a way she’d only seen men do.
Regardless of her father’s feelings, every man, including him, stood up, while Maggie responded, “Don’t be foolish. That’s for ladies, and I am anything but.” Madeleine laughed and squeezed her friend’s arm.
“It’s good to see you again, Maggie,” Georgiana supplemented. “I have missed your company.”
“Oh, you’re sweet, Gigi,” Maggie responded. Cecilia wondered if Americans shortened everyone’s name; she’d never heard her sister called Gigi before. Georgie, sure, among family; but not beyond that, and certainly nothing as classless as Gigi – even if Cecilia was fond of it, and preferred it to Georgie. “So, you’re all Lords and Ladies, aye?” she signalled to the waiter to bring her a whiskey as well. Cecilia wasn’t sure she’d seen a woman other than her Granny drink an amber liquor. Albert found it unseemly when women drank anything that wasn’t wine – not that he was brave enough to have contradicted his mother while she lived.
“Yes –” her father began, but Eleonora cut him off.
“Yes, but please, we don’t want to hold such formalities. Please, call me Eleonora; this is my husband, Albert, who can be a bit of a grump when he hasn’t eaten his fill; and my other daughters, Eliana, and Cecilia, who’s my baby.”
“A baby who is being shipped off like cattle,” muttered Cecilia.
“Pray, what do you mean?” Maggie asked, taking a swig, before taking a bite of her filet mignon; she had skipped over the caviar, saying it wasn’t to her taste. Rare juices omitted the steak as Maggie cut finely into it, removing a delicate square.
“Father’s planning to marry me to a stranger,” Cecilia mourned. “Even though I’ve repeatedly opposed such a match.”
“Albert, is that true?”
“No,” he responded, his tone filled with contempt, his eyes issuing a warning that Cecilia ignored. “Cecilia has been in contact with Thomas for se
veral months. They write each other.”
“And has she met the fellow?”
“No; but the Vanderbilts –”
“I see.” Maggie took another sip. “So, you’re marrying your daughter not only to a man she does not know, but you’re shipping her off to a country that will be foreign to her, and she does not get a say in the matter.”
Albert flushed; Maggie hadn’t issued a question; she’d made a declaration, and one Albert couldn’t argue with.
“I wouldn’t expect some of your status to comprehend the significance of a relationship such as this. I beg you not to comment on something you know so little of.”
“I wouldn’t expect a man to understand what it must feel, to be powerless, helpless, at the demand of a man’s constant, ever-changing whims.”
Silence descended upon the table until Eliana snorted. “This dinner is far more entertaining than one could have hoped for.”
“Oh, Eliana, for once in your life, hold your tongue!” Eleonora snapped.
Once more silence descended, with the clink of china and glassware making delicate noises as the table ate hungrily.
“So, Mr Henry” – Cecilia wanted to be sure she sounded as unfamiliar as possible, especially during mounting tensions – “how has your journey been keeping you?”
“Quite busy, I must say,” he responded, smiling lightly. “There’s so much to film on this ship! I am particularly pleased with some of the things I’ve managed to capture. I think Edison will be thrilled to see the footage of how Captain Smith managed to evade the New York so well.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Albert asked, though Jack raised an eyebrow.
“You caught that on camera!?” Jack cried. “Bravo, young man. Bravo.”
Cecilia felt lighter; the conversation was starting to take a more pleasant turn.
That was, of course, until Georgiana fainted, in dramatic fashion, to Beethoven’s Allegretto.
Chapter Forty-Five
Friday, April 14th, 1912
Georgiana
A reasonably young-looking man towered over Georgiana; she did not recognise him, but he was older than her, yet younger than her father. He had a remarkably smooth face, and sported a large moustache, as was the custom. He was much taller than William, who was saying something that Georgiana could not make out, and William was a tall man, standing at five foot eight. The man, who was calling for a doctor, had to be at least six feet.
“Georgie? Georgie, can you hear me?” William’s voice finally came into focus, as did the entire room. They were in the Ritz, though Georgiana could not remember what for or why. She looked down to her black dress, tightly fitted, and realised she must be at dinner.
Yet why was she on the floor? Had she fallen?
“Oh, thank goodness,” the tall man murmured, and Georgiana was surprised to hear he had a sweet English accent. “My lady, Dr Simpson has arrived. I called for him immediately. Would it be okay if he assisted you?”
“Of course,” muttered Georgiana. “I’m sorry … I don’t know what happened.” She wanted to say, I’m sorry, but I don’t know you, but it seemed dreadfully rude to the man who appeared so caring. Plus, he had a quiet way about him that Georgiana liked.
He smiled. “I’m not entirely sure, but it appears that you may have taken a dizzy spell, causing you to faint. My Lady, and I can assure you that whatever happened will be rightfully sorted, won’t we, Dr Simpson?”
“Of course, Mr Ismay,” and it took a moment for the name to hit Georgiana.
“Oh, Mr Ismay!” cried her father, suddenly pleased. Georgiana was surprised he did not recognise the man by sight. “We are so sorry to have disturbed you. We did not wish to intrude on your dinner.”
“Do not be absurd, Lord Gresham,” Ismay replied, and Georgiana wondered how he seemed to know so much about his passengers, when she had not even known his face. She recalled Madeleine telling her he was frightfully shy, and while he seemed to enjoy not being recognised, warmth and kindness radiated from him in a way it did not from her father. She suddenly understood Madeleine’s words; he was not the type of man that saw a situation and sought to benefit, no matter the suffering, from it. He was a man with a kind heart, who cared deeply for the comfort and safety of the passengers travelling aboard his vessel.
“Your heart rate is a little fast,” Doctor Simpson murmured. “And your blood pressure is a little higher than I’d like. Have you been feeling unwell?”
“No …” Georgiana, whose sight was becoming less foggy, stared at him. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I’ve been a little more tired than usual, but nothing else. Eliana’s been under the weather, but I’ve been fit as a fiddle.”
“Have you eaten today?”
“Plenty,” Georgiana responded. She thought of the pastries, Danishes, cakes, and sandwiches she’d had before luncheon alone. All she’d done so far was stroll the deck with her husband, eat three times her fill, and change more times than was necessary.
“It may bear watching, in case it repeats. Sometimes, however, it can be caused by having one’s … corset” – he stuttered over the word, blushing – “loosened. Sometimes it can cause young ladies to lose their wind, and they fall.”
“Oh.” Georgiana’s cheeks turned crimson.
“Well, that’s another damn reason to burn the blasted things!” Maggie announced, and while the Astors laughed, her father frowned. Mr Ismay smiled, though he did not add anything, and Doctor Simpson looked haunted. Ismay snapped his fingers, and a waiter appeared with a glass of ice water and lemon. She smiled gratefully at both men, before turning her attention to Mr Ismay.
“Thank you, Mr Ismay. I am sorry that I caused such a commotion and ruined your dinner.”
He smiled at her, more sweetly still. Georgiana could not help but wonder why such a kind man, who was high society, shied away from it so. He seemed the sort of man her father would take company with, and he did not appear to be “new money”, something her father frequently detested. “It’s not the same as being born with blood of nobility and royalty. God ordained some of us to be superior. It’s the natural order of things.”
Sometimes Georgiana wondered if her sister’s foul moods were the result of their father’s upbringing, and the miscarriages and stillbirths had only sharpened it with time.
“Lady Georgiana, my primary concern is the safety and welfare of you. Second to that, it’s to the rest of the passengers on board this vessel.”
“You’re a good man, Bruce,” Jack said, and Georgiana, still slightly dazed, knew he meant it. She wondered if they were acquaintances of a kind. Probably, if Madeleine spoke as if she knew him.
“Thank you kindly,” Georgiana said, as William and Doctor Simpson helped her to her feet. “I am feeling much more myself.”
“That is good cheer,” her father lamented, as if Georgiana’s fainting spell had been an inconvenience to them. “May we get on with the night? I don’t wish to be here until closing; I plan to visit the Smoking Room. There’s a gentleman who won too much from me last night; I plan to earn it back.”
“Are you sure you are alright, Lady Georgiana? I can have some stewards escort you back to your suite, if you need, and have supper sent to your room, if you’d prefer.” Georgiana was surprised that Ismay ignored her father so sharply, without any regard for his temper. She supposed Ismay knew he wouldn’t dare attack the owner of the vessel.
“No; thank you, Mr Ismay. I believe I’m quite alright now; just frightfully embarrassed by the commotion I caused.”
“Very well, then. Please call upon either of the ship’s surgeons tomorrow, should you need. And please, feel free to leave a message with the Chief Purser for me if anything should change.”
He turned to Doctor Simpson, thanking the man, before returning to his table.
“Are you alright?” William whispered, as he ushered Georgiana into her seat.
“I think so.” He squeezed her hand in reply.
“By
Jove, you quite scared us, Gigi. You went white as a sheet, right before you fell. Though I think that Simpson fellow’s right; these corsets are restrictive. I much feel more myself when I am home, in more comfortable clothing. Make sure yours is looser tomorrow.”
“I do think you are right,” concurred Georgiana, though a part of her was surprised. She was not the fainting type, quite the opposite. She always remained stoic, never flinching. And her corset, no tighter than usual, was the cause?
She pressed her hand to her stomach, and wondered if maybe, just maybe, her wishes for a full womb would come to her.
Chapter Forty-Six
Friday, April 12th, 1912
Claire
After another full dinner – Claire was by and sure she had gained a pound or two, easily, since yesterday, much to her delight – she and Cillian were walking the Orlop Deck, gazing at the stars, talking intimately. She had never gone to bed with a full stomach; more times than she could count, she’d gone to bed hungry, her stomach rumbling painfully; now, on the grandest ship in the world, she would go to bed with her stomach aching from overeating. Last night, she’d needed to make a few quick trips to the lavatory – another marvellous invention, and Claire enjoyed not freezing her bits off outside – but she mostly didn’t mind. It was better than it had once been.
Her Ma would do what she could, scrounging anything she could, stretching their food for as long as possible, but she did not have an icebox, and the stove emitted more charcoal than heat, leaving the tops of food frequently burnt, with the insides often raw. Claire had grown in a household where nothing was wasted; even the water, free to collect from the well a quarter of a mile from their house, was used to bathe the entire household. There was always some water Ma boiled on the stove, to keep the water warm, but no one would liked being last. There was only so much water that could be boiled, and by the end of eight people sharing the same small tub, the water would feel with a sickly brownish-grey, bits of grass floating to the top. Her Ma would then use the bathwater, now cooled, to water the vegetable and herb garden.
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