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Of course, it would require laying down her pride. Still, after Tessa’s offering the other day—the lovely Irish lace—it might be time to toss her bitterness overboard. She would give it some thought, anyway.

Off in the distance, little Annie continued to play. The youngster’s giggles soon filled the air, coupled with the sound of Nathan’s laughter. Before long, Tessa joined in, and the threesome hopscotched down the corridor.

Jessie slipped her arm through Iris’s as she watched them play. “I have the strongest sense we were all brought together for a reason. Do you feel it too?”

“I suppose.” Iris shrugged, unsure of what to say. Still, she could not deny that something unusual now stirred her heart. The idea that a total stranger would take the time to speak so kindly to her brought a rush of warmth to her soul and made her want to be a better person, a person like the young woman whose arm was now happily looped through hers.

She continued to watch the others play until little Annie took a tumble and scraped her knee. Jessie drew near and kissed away the youngster’s tears and then ushered her off to their cabin to tend to the wound. This left Iris alone with Nathan and Tessa.

She had just turned to head back to the cabin when Nathan called her name. Turning back, he pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket.

“Almost forgot to give you this.”

“What is it?” She took the crumpled paper from his outstretched hand and tried to make sense of it. Just a combination of letters and numbers. E-19. Odd.

“It’s a cabin number,” Nathan said. “You’re supposed to meet someone there at four o’clock today. Someone who’s very anxious to meet you and hear your thoughts on the fashion industry.”

She paused for a moment and tried to make sense of his words. “And who, might I ask, would that be?”

“Oh, no one special,” Nathan said with a shrug. “Just one of our country’s most notable fashion experts, Edith Louise Rosenbaum Russell. She wants to see your sketches, so take everything you have.”

“I—I—I…” Iris would’ve said more, but the wave of dizziness that passed over her made it impossible. Had he really just said that Edith Russell wanted to speak to her? To look at her sketches?

She glanced down at the paper in her hand, clutched it to her heart, and took off running toward her cabin. Behind her, Tessa and Nathan cheered her on. Iris barely heard them as she ran ever forward toward her destination—the one she prayed would change her life forever.

Chapter Twenty-One

Saturday Afternoon, April 13, 1912

Cabin E-19

At four o’clock that afternoon, Iris stood in front of Edith Russell, barely able to speak. She finally managed a shaky “M–Miss Rosenbaum.”

“Russell, my dear. Most people call me Edith Russell.” The woman clutched a little stuffed pig in her left hand, never loosening her hold on it.

Iris bit back a nervous giggle at the name. “Miss Edith…er, Russell.”

The woman extended her gloved right hand, still holding onto the pig with the left. “I hear you’re quite the designer.”

“I— You did?”

“Yes. Your friend Nathan came to see me yesterday. And then I spoke with your delightful friend Jacquie, as well. She sings your praises. Is it true that you had a hand in designing the dress she wore to dinner last night?”

“Well, I suggested the colors and the trim. And the fabric choice too, of course.” A wave of heat washed over Iris as she let the flattery sink in.

“The dress was exquisite. And I adored the choice of hat. Perfect. No doubt you helped with that, as well.”

Iris felt her cheeks grow hot as she nodded. “Oh, Miss Russell, it’s only because of people like you that I’m interested in fashion at all. You can see how it is.” She pointed to her simple dress. “I’m a lady’s maid. In England, I stand no chance of becoming anything else, no matter how hard I work.”

“But in America…” Edith quirked a brow.

“In America my chances to meet people in the industry are a bit higher.”

“Dear girl.” Edith reached for her hand. “Onboard
Titanic
, your chances are higher still. And with friends like Nathan and Jacquie, the possibilities have risen to greater heights. Clearly, we were destined to meet, you and I.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about it.” Had Providence arranged this meeting, or had it all happened by chance?

Edith put the little stuffed pig down on the settee and covered him with a lace-trimmed hankie, as one would tuck a child into bed at night. “People find me eccentric. Odd, even. They do not know the depth of my suffering over the past year since the tragic accident.” The woman’s eyes filled with tears. “You see, my dear, my fiancé, Ludwig, lost his life, and I, myself, am still recovering.”

“I had heard as much, and I’m so terribly sorry.”

“I’m sure you will understand what I mean when I say that I take comfort in my work. In that creative place, I am free from pain for a short while.”

Understand? Iris felt exactly the same way. She could hardly get her words out fast enough as she attempted to explain. “I know what you mean. When I’m designing a gown—or a hat, even—my thoughts are solely focused on that, not on…” She paused and attempted to swallow the lump in her throat. “On the things I cannot change.”

“Where are these designs of yours, dear? Anything you could show me?”

Iris’s heart raced. “I’ve brought my sketches to show you.” She opened her sketch pad and thumbed through the drawings, one after the other. Edith oohed and aahed in all the right places, pointing out both the things she liked and the things she didn’t. Iris accepted the critique. Welcomed it, even. To have a woman like Miss Russell offer advice? Such a thing was priceless.

When they had looked through all of the sketches, Edith reached for the stuffed pig once more, cradling it in her arm like an infant. “We have much to discuss, you and I.”

“We—we do?” Iris closed the sketchbook and tucked it under her arm.

“Yes, but a headache prevents me from doing so now. Would you meet me in the Verandah Cafe tomorrow evening for a late dinner? By then I will have put together a plan for your future with my new line.
Elrose
is to be featured at Lord & Taylor, you know.”

“I—I know.” Iris couldn’t seem to manage anything else. “I would be honored, Miss Russell. Thank you.”

“You are so welcome, Iris. And by the way, I love your name.”

“Thank you.” She felt her cheeks turn warm. “Mother named me after the flower. It wasn’t until I reached my teens that I realized
Iris
means
rainbow
.” She felt her lips curl up in a smile. “Suits me, since I love color so much.”

“And all the more reason why we need to get you out of a lady’s maid dress and into something that properly reflects your name.” Edith smiled and placed a hand on her arm. “An iris is strong and beautiful, as well. And from everything your friend Jacquie told me at dinner last night, you epitomize both of those words.”

“Jacquie told you that?”

“That and much more. She says you’re the bravest, strongest girl she’s met.” Edith patted her on the arm. “She’s very taken with you, Iris. You’re lucky to have such a friend.”

“Yes, I suppose I am.” Iris took a couple of steps toward the door then turned back to give Miss Russell a smile. “I will see you tomorrow night in the Verandah Cafe.”

“Until then, my dear.” The woman’s eyes narrowed and she held up her hand, so Iris paused. “Oh, just one more thing, if you please.”

“Yes?”

Edith cradled her stuffed pig, winding his tail until a cheerful little melody sounded. “Promise me you won’t let that Lady Duff Gordon get her hooks into you.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Yes.” Edith took a couple of steps in her direction. “She is onboard, and you know how she is.”

“I—I don’t, actually.”

“Perhaps that’s for the best. Just remember, your designs are much more in line with what I’m doing. Have you seen her latest?”

Iris nodded but chose her words carefully. “Yes, of course. The looser waists are a hit with the young women.”

Edith visibly shuddered. “Well, yes, but slit skirts? And plunging necklines?” She shook her head. “We will not chase that cat down the back alley—do I make myself clear?”

“Y–yes.”

“Good. Then we have an understanding.” She cradled the little pig as it continued to pour out its little tune. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that allies are a good deal more effective than friends. You and I will be allies in this business. And I promise
you, Iris, you will look lovely wearing silks and satins. The light will shine off you as never before.”

Iris nodded and stammered her thanks again before meekly leaving the suite. By the time she made it to the Grand Staircase, she just couldn’t help herself. She hopped, skipped, and jumped her way all the way to B Deck. She could hardly wait to see Tessa and give her the news.

Jacquie walked the streets of Southampton completely alone, her heart in her throat. Yesterday’s visit from Peter had left her reeling. She pushed back the tears, determined not to cry again. She’d spent most of the night wading through an ocean of tears, hadn’t she?

His emotional words had left a sting unlike any she’d ever known. But the tears through which he spoke those words convinced her that he did, at least to some extent, care for her. Perhaps not in the way she had hoped, but at least he cared. And his offer to marry her—to grow into a relationship, as he called it—was, she supposed, generous. Still, how could she marry someone who didn’t truly love her? To do so would be humiliating.

At once she thought of Roland Palmer, of how he would have settled for a one-sided relationship. Strange, when she thought about it. He might be willing to settle for such a thing, but she would not, though she had sacrificed everything she held dear to discover it. No, she could not force Peter into a marriage that he did not desire. True, his feelings might grow in time, but she would prefer they do so without being forced.

Jacquie pulled her jacket tighter to ward off the chill that
enveloped her. It came from a place deep inside and held her locked in place. Frozen.

She could not go forward.

She could not go back.

Truly, she had no options. And when one had no options, what was the point in going on?

Late Saturday night, a cold chill fell over the
Titanic
. At that very same time, however, the icy chill that had hovered over B-54 thawed. Tessa found it quite ironic. From the moment Iris arrived back at the cabin after meeting with Edith Russell, all was forgiven. For the first time ever, the two girls could express themselves as friends. Real friends. And that’s just what Tessa did as Iris helped her with her corset strings after dinner.

“I must admit, there are certain advantages to pretending to be someone I’m not.” Tessa eased her way out of her undergarments and reached for her nightgown. “When I take on the role of Jacquie, I don’t have to think about my father or of the poverty that held me captive from childhood. I can eat what I like, do as I like, and enjoy the admiration of people. Is it selfish to say I enjoy that?”

Iris shrugged. “Probably normal.”

“I can see that having money would make one rather spoiled. That’s certainly different from the way I was raised. Opposite of it, in fact.”

“I’m afraid I haven’t asked many questions about your life before you came to Abingdon Manor.” Iris’s nose wrinkled. “I—I should have.”

“My life before…” Tessa felt the sting of tears but willed them
away. “No young girl deserves such a life. My father…” She could not continue because the lump in her throat got in the way.

“He was unkind?” Iris asked.

“Unkind is too small a word. He was cruel. He
is
cruel.” She shuddered, just thinking about it. Why did it take stepping away from the situation to see it for what it was?

Iris reached for a dressing gown and draped it over Tessa’s shoulders. “If you want to talk about it…” She looped the sash around the gown and took a step back. “I know I haven’t been the best friend, but I’m here if you need a shoulder.”

“Thank you.” Tessa paused to think it through. “Maybe tomorrow we can have a good long talk.”