Unsinkable (9 page)

Carrington slipped down the corridor quietly, relieved that she had seen no one, not even so much as a porter. She was grateful to be part of the idle rich, the group that wasn’t interested in rising at the crack of dawn, at least not aboard the
Titanic.
She turned her key in her stateroom door and gently closed the door.

“Where have you been?”

Her mother sat on the settee, stiff backed and disapproving.

“I just couldn’t sleep. I went for a walk.”

“A walk?” Rose’s expression clearly showed she didn’t believe that.

“The story over dinner. I just couldn’t sleep.”

“Where did you walk to, Carrington?”

“Why does it matter?”

“It matters,” her mother said between clenched teeth, “Because you have been gone for hours. Have you been with Beckett MacKenzie?”

“And I thought you
wanted
me to be with Beckett MacKenzie.”

“Not in the middle of the night. Not where anyone who is anybody could have seen you with him. You claim you want nothing to do with a man like Alastair, who has a fine reputation and then you disgrace us by doing something like this.”

“I haven’t disgraced you Mother. And no one saw me. Everyone but you is still asleep.”

“Does it not bother you that people will talk?”

Carrington sat on the bed. “No. And just for the record, I
love
Beckett.”

“You put far too much emphasis on the idea of love and romance, Carrington. That’s why you have all these notions about traveling and adventure. Life isn’t about love and adventure.”

“Without someone to love, without dreams, what’s the point of being alive, Mother?”

“I can see that he won’t be good for you. He’s too much of an idealist, a dreamer. Really, writing a novel? Stay away from him.”

“I won’t. I told you. I love him.”

“Your father will be speaking to his father. This little ‘affair’ is over, Carrington.”

“It’s not an affair, Mother. And he is good for me. He understands me. For the first time in my life I have someone who sees me for what I am, for what I want.”

“Listen to yourself. You sound like something in a tawdry novel. Stay away from him.”

“That’s a bit hard to do, Mother. We’re seated at the same table, we’re on a ship, which despite its size is still a ship. I can’t possibly stay away from him without causing a scene and having people talk.”

“I won’t have it,” Rose said.

“I’m an adult, Mother. It really doesn’t matter what you want.”

“Get dressed and wait for me before you go to breakfast. And don’t plan on missing the church service.” Rose went to the door that connected their staterooms. “I am so disappointed in you, Carrington.”

Carrington didn’t answer and didn’t look at her mother as she swept dramatically through the door and closed it.

                          *******

Beckett had just finished dressing when there was a knock at his door. He opened it and invited his father in.

“I have just had a conversation with Wilson St. Clair, Beckett,” Jackson said, closing the door.

“And?”

“According to him your behavior last night was less than discreet.”

“It wasn’t.”

“So you didn’t spend the night with his daughter?”

Beckett looked his father in the eye. Lying wouldn’t go over well. He knew his father well enough to know that. “I did, but I was very discreet.”

“This is a ship, Beckett. We are in first class, along with some very important people. Do you want people who can help your career advance to be gossiping about you? Do you want Guggenheim and John Jacob Astor talking about you in the smoking room this evening?”

“Mr. Guggenheim,” Beckett said, “is on board with his mistress and Mr. Astor has been abroad for several months, hoping that when he gets home people will stop talking about the fact that when he married his wife she was only seventeen. I hardly think they care if Carrington and I were alone for a few hours.”

“Her parents certainly care and they are the type who can make trouble for you if they want to. It might be best to end this relationship now, before it becomes a scandal.”

“A scandal? I’m not married and neither is she. What’s scandalous about it?”

“Beckett, I really don’t care if you have…the occasional romantic indulgence. But you must learn to be discreet about these things.”

Beckett fought to control his anger. “The way you are, Dad?”

Jackson took two steps closer to his son and lowered his voice. “I won’t have you speak to me that way, Beckett.”

“So it’s okay for you to have a little…
indulgence
so long as Mother doesn’t know about it and nobody talks?”

Beckett suspected that his mother was fully aware of his father’s affairs. After all, he was.

“Discretion is everything, Beckett. Our success depends on men like Astor and Guggenheim. We don’t have the luxury of allowing a casual affair to become public talk.”

“No one, as far as I am aware, is talking about me. Or Carrington.”

“Not yet. I want you to end this. I’m not sure her mother won’t use this as a way to make sure you marry her.”

“I am going to marry her.”

“Surely you haven’t proposed to her.”

“Not yet. But I love her.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve known her for two days.”

“I’ve known her almost my whole life.”

“You haven’t seen her since you were children.”

“It doesn’t matter. I love her.”

His father grew red in the face. “It’s this book thing, I should never have allowed it. You start writing a book and now you believe what you’re writing. When we land I must insist that you begin at the bank immediately.”

“I’m not a kid any more, Dad. I’ve graduated from college. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“I control your trust funds, Beckett. Never forget that.”

“
I
control those, Dad. At least the ones from Mother’s side of the family. I’m over twenty-one. You can’t keep me from using the money from Grandfather Beckett. As I pointed out when we set sail on this voyage.”

“This conversation ends now. I won’t allow you to speak to me this way. Go downstairs for breakfast and for goodness sakes make sure you are in that religious service. Appearances do matter. And do not continue seeing that girl.”

“Since appearances do matter, Dad, how can I keep from seeing her when we are seated at the same table?”

“When this trip is over, I expect this shipboard romance to be over. I mean it, Beckett. This nonsense stops when we land in New York. And be discreet. Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” Beckett said. Jackson left without saying another word.

Beckett picked up the book and held it in his hands and stared at it for several minutes. He put it back on the writing desk and went to the door, but as he had since he started writing, he went back to the desk and picked it up again and slipped it in his coat pocket before he left his cabin.

                                  ******

Molly Brown noticed a distinct chill in the air and it wasn’t just because the temperatures outside had dropped. Rose St. Clair was avoiding speaking at all to Alice Mackenzie and she had been acting like the woman’s long lost best friend since the voyage began. And was she imagining that Beckett and Carrington were avoiding even making eye contact with each other? Surely they hadn’t had a fight. Molly had been rooting for them to be together since the first time she saw them. They were so obviously perfect for each other and she had been enjoying watching the romance progress. Not to mention that she’d been intrigued by the notion that Beckett’s mysterious book had magical powers.

As she watched them, Molly’s thoughts turned to her husband at home. Things hadn’t been great between them, at least not romantically for some time. They were still friends and he understood her better than anyone else. But that wasn’t enough. Maybe it was time to change things between them.

Was Carrington trying not to cry? It broke Molly’s heart to see how sad the girl looked. She was just about to ask Carrington to join her on deck when Rose stood. “Well, it’s time for the services.”

“Yes,” Wilson agreed. “Carrington?”

Carrington forced a smile and stood. “Of course, Father, we wouldn’t want to miss that.” Rose and Wilson left without saying another word. Carrington left more slowly.  As she did, her hand gently brushed Beckett’s shoulder. Molly wondered if anyone else noticed.

Captain Smith took the Marconi message from Jack Phillips, the ship’s Marconi operator. “Ice warning, sir. Should we be worried?”

“No, no. There’s always ice this time of year. And we’re aboard the
Titanic.
”

Phillips laughed. “Quite right sir. And these first class passengers are keeping me extremely busy sending messages.”

“Well,” Captain Smith replied, “the passengers, especially the first class ones, are our priority Mr. Phillips.”

“That’s what Mr. Ismay said, sir.”

The captain went back on deck and began the stroll to the first class lounge where he would lead the Sunday morning service, complete with the hymn for those in peril on the sea. It was a routine he enjoyed. He wasn’t certain how religious his passengers were, but he knew that they attended those services and expected them, if only for appearances. He wouldn’t let them down, nor would he keep them an undue amount of time.

He saw Bruce Ismay approaching and prepared himself for whatever the owner of the shipping line had to say.

“Are we on schedule, EJ?”

“Still cruising at a little less than twenty-one knots, Mr. Ismay.”

“And you cancelled the lifeboat drill?”

“I will, although I am not certain why that is so important to you, Bruce.”

“Lifeboat drills cause panic.”

“Lifeboat drills are merely a precaution. Are you just not wanting to call attention to the fact that we do not, in fact, have enough lifeboats for everyone on board?”

“Don’t broadcast that fact. And in any case, we shall not be needing them.”

“I still don’t see the harm in a drill.”

“The first class passengers don’t like the imposition, and the ladies don’t care for putting on the lifebelts.”

“And those in second and third class?”

“Also will not need a lifeboat drill.”

“Very well.” Captain Smith handed him the ice warning. “We got this a few moments ago.”

Ismay read the ice warning, folded it and stuffed it in his pocket. “Change your course if you need to, but don’t stop the ship just because another ship saw some ice.”

Smith nodded. “Very well then.”

He led the way to where his first class passengers were waiting.

                                *******

Beckett waited three minutes after Carrington left and then followed her. He knew she would go to the front of the ship. He had scribbled it in the book during the service. He wondered if she knew why she had chosen to go there as soon as the service was over, but decided that she would know. He’d known, after all, that she was watching him write in the book.

She was standing there, with her back to him when he found her, just as he had written it.

“Carrington?”

She turned to look at him and the look on her face was a mixture of joy, sadness, and yes, guilt.

“I’m not supposed to spend time with you,” she said.

“I’m not either.”

“What do you mean?”

Beckett came to stand beside her. “My father has apparently had words with yours.  Neither of our families wants us to be together.”

“What did your father say?”

“Only that your parents knew we were together last night and that I needed to be more discreet.”

“That was it?”

“Oh no, I’m to end my ‘shipboard romance’ as soon as we dock, forget about writing and take my rightful place at the bank.”

“You sound so angry.”

“I am. But not at you.”

“Do you think maybe we are rushing into something? That we are letting your book dictate everything? Did you write this meeting?”

“I did. But the only reason we needed to meet right now, like this, is because your parents went to my father and made a harmless event an issue.”

“Harmless event. Is that what last night was to you?”

Beckett tried to hold her and she backed away. “No, of course not. You know I love you.”

“Do you? Or am I just a character in your book?”

She turned away from him.

“Why are you doing this? What did I do?”

“I don’t know. Your choice of words, maybe.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t sound sorry.”

“Well, I certainly didn’t write this scene,” he said and his voice had a hard edge to it.

“Stop writing scenes for us, Beckett. Just let us…live. In real life.”

“You’re the one who wanted me to write us into the story. You’re the one who wanted a mummy on board and kept talking about Egypt.”

“Maybe they’re all right and this is all wrong.”

He stared at her for a moment.

“Maybe they are. Enjoy the rest of the voyage, Carri.”

“Don’t call me that.”

He looked back at her as he left. “Don’t worry, I won’t be calling you anything at all.”

She watched him go and tears started streaming down her face. She turned back toward the ocean and shivered, wishing she had put on a coat. It was suddenly freezing on deck but she wouldn’t let anyone, most of all Beckett, see her cry.

                                  ******

Warren opened the door to Beckett’s cabin. “What are you doing down here? I thought you’d be off somewhere with Carrington.”

“I think that’s over?’

“What happened?”

Beckett sat up on the bed, where he’d been lying ever since he had argued with Carrington.

“We spent last night together.”

“So?” Warren looked at Beckett’s bleak expression, “Oh, you mean…”

“Yes.”

“And?”

Beckett sighed. “Somehow her mother found out. And told her father, who had words with mine.”

“Jackson made you break things off with her?”

“He strongly suggested it, although he wasn’t as upset as her mother was, until I pointed out his indiscretions.”

“Bad call, Beck.”

“Yes, in hindsight, but I was angry. Then when I tried to talk to Carrington, we argued.”

“Maybe her parents had given her a hard time.”

“Oh I’m sure they did. But I don’t know what we were arguing about.”

“Maybe she regrets letting things go so far.”

“Maybe, but she could have just said that.”

“Do you?”

Beckett was silent. “I wrote it in the book, Warren. She came and knocked on the door, just the way I wrote it.”

“And the rest of it?”

“Pretty much.”

“You don’t think she knows that? Maybe she doesn’t regret it, she just wanted it to happen, without you knowing the script.”

“I wish it had happened that way.”

“This book thing may have gotten out of hand. I think you should just pitch the book overboard.”

“I can’t.”

“Is it worth it? Are you really going to have a story that’s publishable? Or are you just going to make a disaster of your life?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Maybe your dad is right, Beck. Maybe you should just go to work at the bank.”

“You have no idea how unappealing that is.”

“You’re right. I don’t.”

Beckett stood up and tossed the book across the bed.

“All my life he’s been grooming me to follow in his footsteps. Even as a little kid I hated going down to the bank with him.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to be like him. He’s successful, but look at how he treats my mother. She pretends that she doesn’t know about his affairs. But I know she does. I don’t want my children to dislike me, I don’t want to become a man who manipulates everyone around him.”

“Aren’t you doing that in the book?”

Beckett turned away from Warren. “I guess I could be.”

“Do you hate your father?”

“No. I don’t like him, but I don’t hate him.”

“Come on. We’ll have lunch somewhere besides that insufferable dining room, play some cards. Look at other women.”

Beckett didn’t want to, but he couldn’t just hide away in his cabin for the rest of the trip. He combed his hair and pulled on his coat and followed Warren out into the corridor. For the first time since they had boarded
Titanic
, he didn’t take the book.

                               ******

Carrington went to the dining room, half hoping that Beckett would be there. Her mother had claimed a headache and gone to lie down, her father was meeting elsewhere with business associates. Beckett was nowhere to be seen, but Molly was already there, reading the menu.

“Hello, Molly.”

“Carrington, come sit by me, everyone else seems to be otherwise occupied.”

“I may not be good company.” She hadn’t expected to say that, but she felt so at ease with Molly Brown.

“I sorta thought something was wrong this morning. Did you fight with Beckett about something?”