Distractions
The First Class stateroom Charlie Ashton occupied had come at a considerable price, but when he booked his passage aboard the RMS Titanic on the morning of its maiden voyage, he had been pleasantly surprised that the famous ocean liner even had availability in its most luxurious accommodations. Jonathan had returned from booking the fair stating that J.P. Morgan, the owner of the vessel, had recently cancelled his own reservation (a possible omen that had caused Charlie to raise his eyebrows) which had left one of the finest staterooms available. Despite the fact that the very owner had determined not to make the maiden voyage, Charlie’s desperation to leave England had led him to board the ship, the idea that perhaps the Titanic was not as unsinkable as previously mentioned only a drifting thought in an over-crowded mind.
Staring at the frothing waters below as the disturbance of the vast hull made her way through otherwise placid seas, he couldn’t help but reflect on the situation that had led him here. He had always gained attention from admiring women, frequently unwanted attention, though occasionally a girl would catch his eye. However, he had known ever since he was a youth that he would eventually wed Mary Margaret Westmoreland. His father had explained the situation to him shortly after Mary Margaret’s own father had died several years ago, how John Ashton had made a promise to his long-time friend and business partner, Henry Westmoreland, that he would watch after his only child. Despite some initial trepidation and a bit of a rebellious stage, Charlie came to understand the value of giving one’s word, of honoring friendship, of upholding obligations. It was a motto his father had instilled in him long ago, one that he had no intention of ever turning his back on. That was why it was so incredibly difficult for him to understand how others could take such commitments so lightly.
Resting his forearms on the railing that separated him from the bitterly cold abyss below, he ran a hand through his short brown hair and gave an audible sigh. He knew Jonathan would be coming in soon, prepping him for the possibility of friendly business opportunities with other high class members of the First Class elite. The idea of shooting the breeze with the likes of J. J. Astor and Ben Guggenheim seemed incredibly taxing under the present circumstances to say the least. They were both fine gentlemen, as were most of his acquaintances aboard the vessel, but they were also all very much aware that he was not scheduled to be amongst them, which would lead to questions and the inevitable inquiry as to Miss Westmoreland’s location.
He heard the door behind him open but did not turn in reply to Jonathan’s offered greeting of, “Good morning,” as he was not convinced it was such. After a pause, the slightly older man, dressed in a fine suit for such an ordinary day, inquired, “Will you be having breakfast in your room, or shall we venture out among our fellow passengers this morning?”
Charlie straightened to his full height. At six-foot-two, he was quite tall, and he had to lower his gaze several inches to meet Jonathan’s eyes. “Coffee—here—will suffice,” he replied.
Jonathan crossed his arms as Charlie sunk back down, hands splayed apart on the rail. “Don’t you think it will do you some good to get out? Talk to some people? Explore the ship?” he probed.
Despite having served as his valet these past few years, Jonathan had become more of a friend than a servant, and Charlie relied on him for more than just fetching needed items and laying out clothing. Jonathan was as levelheaded and intelligent as most of Charlie’s associates. In fact, Jonathan had even attended college for a few semesters before funding failed him, and he was forced to find employment. It was his sharp eye for detail and his charismatic personality that had caused Charlie to choose him from several applicants, and they had formed a bond almost instantly. Having grown up with only a sister, Charlie had always wished for a brother, and he had found that camaraderie at last with Jonathan, at the age of twenty-one. Now, two years later, Jonathan knew him better than anyone else, and he was generally inclined to listen to his advice.
But not today. The thought of dancing through the charade of facades was nauseating. “No thank you,” Charlie replied in a quiet, yet decisive voice.
Jonathan knew the tone well and only nodded in acceptance. After a moment, he simply rested his hand on his friend’s shoulder briefly before walking almost silently back into the stateroom to fetch the requested coffee.
“You look pretty pale. Are you sure the rockin’ isn’t gettin’ to you?” Kelly asked, eyeing Meg over breakfast in the Third Class Dining Hall. Daniel had volunteered to get up early with the girls for breakfast and more exploration, leaving Kelly and Meg to have the morning to themselves.
Meg looked down at the dry toast and banana she had absently placed on her plate a few moments ago from the ala carte choices. Even though the Titanic was the largest passenger vessel ever built, there was still some swaying involved, and Meg was slightly inclined toward seasickness. She could emphatically say, however, that the churning in her stomach had nothing to do with motion sickness. “It’s not that,” she replied quietly. “It’s happening again.”
Kelly gave a sympathetic sigh and placed her hand on top of her friend’s. “I’m sorry, darlin’,” she said. “The same one?” she probed, glad to have the opportunity to discuss the situation without the distraction of small, sticky fingers.
Meg nodded, hesitating to speak aloud for fear the authenticity of verbalizing her thoughts would overwhelm her. A clattering of dishes across the crowded room jarred her a bit, and she caught Kelly’s concerned expression. “I guess I thought leaving would make the nightmares stop. And that first night, in the hotel, it did. But now…. I don’t want to think about it,” she replied, her voice trailing off.
Kelly squeezed her hand, nodding her head, her red, disheveled locks dancing as she did so. “He can’t hurt you now, Meg. He’s in the past. Now, all you have is a bright future to look forward to.”
Meg nodded, withdrawing her hand and breaking off a small corner of the toast before sliding it across the plate and brushing the crumbs from her fingers. “I’m just… afraid things won’t turn out the way we planned….”
“They will,” Kelly insisted, cutting her off. “You’ll see. Once we get to America, everything will be wonderful, just liked we talked about.”
“But what if… what if someone recognizes me? What if they wire my mother and tell her where I am?”
Kelly shook her head. “That won’t happen. There are only a handful of First Class passengers who’ve even met you, and the chances that you will run into any of them are highly unlikely.”
Meg knew what she said was true, yet she wasn’t convinced she had nothing to worry about. However, she hadn’t even begun to voice her true concerns. With even more reluctance in her voice, she continued. “What if we get to America, and I can’t find a job. I’m not qualified to do anything. Or worse, I realize I really am a spoiled rich girl who can’t do without the finer things in life.”
Kelly guffawed. “You know that’s not the case,” she insisted. “You’ve never been one of them, Meg. You’ve always scoffed at their holier-than-thou ways. I know you can find work. Your embroidery is impeccable. You can play the piano beautifully.”
“Is there high demand for young ladies with those skills in New York City?” Meg snickered, sipping the lukewarm beverage in her mug that was reputedly coffee.
Kelly glared at her a moment before continuing. “I’m just sayin’ you have skills. We’ll find a way for you to make a living. In the meantime, you know you can stay with Daniel and me for as long as you need to. I’m sure he’ll find work. He has years of experience as a carpenter, and I have every intention of findin’ placement in one of those snooty New York housewife’s service.”
“Perhaps your new employer will not be as much the slave driver as your last,” Meg jested, finding some humor at last.
Kelly chuckled. “It would be difficult to find someone as harsh and ridiculing as you,” she teased. “It’ll be fine,” she assured her friend, resting her calloused hand on the sleeve of her own dress, now worn by her former mistress. “You’re just worried because… it’s not quite how you planned.”
As Kelly’s voice trailed off, Meg pursed her lips, bracing herself against unwanted tears. She attempted to push thoughts of the one Kelly had alluded to aside, but it did her no good, and she soon felt a familiar sting at the corners of her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Kelly said in the same soothing tone she used to comfort her own children. “I didn’t mean to…”
“No, it’s okay,” Meg insisted, dabbing at her eyes with her napkin. “You’re right. It just seems harder because I always assumed he’d be with me.”
“I know,” Kelly replied, smoothing Meg’s hair. “I’m sorry, darlin’.”
Meg nodded in acknowledgement of her friend’s concern before saying, “It’s just as well, I guess. If he was going to leave, at least he did it before I booked his passage to America.”
Kelly offered a sympathetic smile. “Well, good riddance is what I say,” she finally declared. “You don’t need the likes of that two-faced, lowly gobshite, I reckon.”
Despite herself, Meg began to laugh. “The further we sail from home, the more prominent your accent becomes, Kel.”
Kelly shrugged. “I think it’s more likely due to the fact that I feel I can finally be my own person without the weight of your mum and uncle breathin’ down my neck at every turn,” she explained. After a brief moment, she added, “Maybe you should think on that a bit, love.”
Meg considered her statement. “Perhaps you’re right,” she agreed. If only I knew how….
“Now, come on. If you’re done pickin’ at that toast, let’s go up on deck and get some fresh air, see if we can find them wee lasses of mine and my lovin’ husband.”