Titanic: The Long Night (10 page)

But then, she told herself as she quickly bathed and changed into a red velvet ankle-length dress with three-quarter-length sleeves and a matching jacket, Lily is on her own and has no parents to fear. She has nothing to lose by flouting convention. While I, on the other hand, she told the mirror as she lightly powdered her face, have everything to lose by alienating my parents just now. If I showed up in the ship’s restaurant looking as outlandish as Lily Costello, any chance I ever had of convincing my parents I’m mature enough to lead my own life would vanish like the coast of Ireland when the
Titanic
sailed out of Cobh Harbour.

Elizabeth replaced the watch with a gold locket on a chain and slipped her feet into red satin slippers, wincing again as her weight settled on the sore ankle.

As if summoned by her daughter’s thoughts, Nola Farr, resplendent in aquamarine silk, appeared in the doorway. “Oh good, you’re up. How is the ankle? The red is stunning on you, Elizabeth. I knew it would be. And it’s an excellent choice for tonight. We’re dining in the restaurant, and I’m told that it’s quite elegant.” Whirling before Elizabeth’s full-length mirror, her mother added, “I believe we’ll do quite nicely, don’t you? We shall make a lovely picture when we walk in together. I do hope that Brown woman isn’t there. If she’s there, my appetite will be ruined.”

“I’ve been invited out to dinner, Mother.”

The whirling stopped. “Invited out? By whom? I thought you hadn’t met anyone on board. Except, of course, for that wild young son of Enid’s—” Nola’s jaw dropped. “Oh, no, Elizabeth! You are
not
dining in the restaurant with him? What will your father say?”

Elizabeth fastened a crystal teardrop earring to each lobe. “Mother, Father is the one who introduced me to Max. If he didn’t want me associating with him, he shouldn’t have allowed us to meet.”

“He was just being polite to the son of an acquaintance. I’m sure he never expected you to actually befriend the boy.”

Elizabeth smiled. Yesterday, Mrs. Whittaker had been a close friend. Now she was only a mere “acquaintance”? “Max isn’t a boy, Mother. He’s almost twenty.”

Nola sighed and began fussing with her hair, which was already perfectly arranged. “What can you possibly have in common with someone like that?”

What we have in common, Elizabeth answered silently, is, our parents don’t want us making our own decisions. They want us to stay infants forever. Aloud, she said, “He tells interesting stories. He’s fun.”

Her mother frowned. “Alan isn’t fun?”

Elizabeth uttered a short laugh. “Mother, the word ‘fun’ isn’t even in Alan Reed’s vocabulary.”

“Well,” Nola said testily, “fun isn’t everything. It certainly won’t pay for the kind of clothes you wear, Elizabeth.”

Donning the heavily beaded jacket that topped the red dress and painfully aware, in view of her mother’s words, that the ensemble must have cost a small fortune, Elizabeth picked up the gold evening bag lying at the foot of the bed. “I know I love nice clothes, Mother. What girl doesn’t? But I promise you I could do without them if it meant going to college. And you can tell Father that for me. Anyway, I’m not planning to marry Maxwell Whittaker, whether he’s rich or poor. I’m just going to dinner with him.”

As Elizabeth left the cabin, her mother’s voice followed her. “I’m going to be keeping my eyes on you tonight, Elizabeth. Gossip on a ship runs rampant. I won’t have any nasty rumors traveling back to Alan. That could ruin everything.”

In the corridor, walking in the midst of other finely dressed couples making their way to dinner, Elizabeth thought that in order to be worried about “ruining everything,” you first had to really care about that “everything.” And she didn’t. It seemed to her, as things stood now, that “everything” could stand a little “ruining.” Right now, all she wanted to do was have a nice dinner in the restaurant without tension, without bickering, without unpleasantness. She would be so sweet and agreeable with Max and Lily, they wouldn’t need dessert.

If only they didn’t make her feel that three was a crowd.

They didn’t. To Elizabeth’s relief, Lily had made the acquaintance of another young man, a native of France who had been living in the United States for the past seven years. A sophomore at Princeton University, he was returning with his parents from an aunt’s funeral in Lourdes. His name was Arthur Duchamps. He seemed nice enough, and he was clearly quite taken with Lily. They conversed in French, which left Max and Elizabeth free to carry on their own conversation.

With Lily otherwise occupied, Elizabeth relaxed. Her parents had not yet arrived. They were probably entertaining themselves in the lounge before settling down to dinner. Elizabeth could only hope they’d take their time. Knowing her mother was watching her like a hawk from across the room would spoil any chance of a good time, no matter how lovely the restaurant.

And it was lovely. The paneling was lighter than other paneling on the ship, a soft, fawn shade. The carpet underfoot was softly shaded in two different rose tones, like a bed of crushed rose petals. While the room was larger than most restaurants, the linens and crystal were as fine as any Elizabeth had seen elsewhere. The room was noisy, but pleasantly so, with the sounds of lively conversation and laughter, of friends greeting friends, the pinging sounds of cutlery against dinnerware, of chairs being swooshed back into place, and with the activities of the bustling waiters, though they seemed to be trying hard to be discreet.

“I like it,” she announced when they were seated. “It’s really very nice.”

“Well, that’s grand,” Max replied as he unfolded his thick linen napkin and placed it on his lap. “Because if you disapproved, of course we would jump up immediately and leave.”

Instead of taking offense, Elizabeth laughed. “Sorry. It’s just that since my mother was so enthusiastic about this place, I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about it. We so seldom like the same things.”

He smiled. “I know exactly what you mean.”

Heartened by this sudden show of understanding, Elizabeth felt suddenly ravenous, and picked up the elaborate menu. She settled on filet mignon, medium-rare, a choice Lily commented on with disapproval. Saying that fish was a much more sensible choice, she added, “You wish to keep the good figure, do you not? Food that comes from the sea will do that for you, but never the cows that graze in a field stuffing themselves with grass and hay.”

Since Lily herself was as slender as a sapling, it seemed futile to argue with her. And Elizabeth was in too good a mood to become annoyed. It was very freeing to be eating a meal without her parents present. She felt almost giddy, and laughed again, saying, “I’m sure you’re right, Lily. And I do like fish. I just don’t feel like eating it tonight.”

“Me, either,” Max said, laying aside his menu. “Filet mignon sounds just about right. I’ll have it, too.”

“Are you sure?” Elizabeth asked. She laughed. “I thought you came here for French food.”

Max cocked an eyebrow at her. “You’re forgetting your French. Filet? Mignon? Both French words, are they not?”

Laughing, Elizabeth replied, “Well, it’s an American dish now, and you know it, Max. I think of French food as escargot, pâté de foie gras, peaches in chartreuse jelly, château potatoes.” She pointed to the menu. “They’re all on here, if you want them.”

“I want what you’re having.” He kept his eyes on hers as he said this. Elizabeth glanced around nervously to see if her parents might have entered the room while she was hidden behind the menu.

They hadn’t. But they might, at any second. She should tell Max to sit back in his chair instead of leaning toward her the way he was, with his eyes boring into hers as if he were trying to see into the back of her skull. She should.

But she didn’t. She liked the attention. She hadn’t failed to notice the admiring glances sent Max’s way from other young women in the restaurant, women older than she but still young enough to be interested in a good-looking young man. No one had ever looked envious on the few occasions when she was with Alan in public.

Still, her parents
could
walk in at any moment. Better safe than sorry, Elizabeth told herself, and quickly began listing the restaurant’s wonderful qualities: the furnishings, the atmosphere, the beautiful flowers on the table. After just a sentence or two, Max took the hint and sat back in his chair, the expression on his face one of disappointment.

Elizabeth sighed. It would have been fun to flirt with him, at least until they disagreed again, which was sure to happen soon enough. But she didn’t dare. Arousing her mother’s ire was exactly the wrong thing to do when you wanted something from her. And Elizabeth wanted something from her.

“So,” she said to Max with false cheerfulness, “tell me everything you haven’t already told me about living in Paris.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I’ve told you enough about me. What about you? Have you always lived in New York? Where else have you traveled, besides Paris and London? I want to know everything.” He was leaning toward her again, his chin propped on an elbow improperly resting on the table. “What are your hobbies? What’s your favorite color? Does your mother allow you any athletics and if so, what are they? Where do you want to go to college and why do you want to go? And why can’t you? Why are you planning to marry a man you don’t love?”

Elizabeth gasped, staring at him in horror. The questions had started off innocently enough. She would have answered the first few willingly. But then he’d gone too far. If Lily and Arthur hadn’t been deeply engaged in their own conversation, they would have overheard and then Elizabeth would have left the room out of embarrassment.

Because they weren’t listening, had not in fact heard a word Max said, Elizabeth’s anger faded as quickly as it had come. She needed to talk to someone, someone her own age, someone who might understand what she was feeling. Who better than Max? He was not only her own age, he had defied his parents successfully, at least for a period of time. That was more than she had ever done. Perhaps he could tell her what to do.

Besides, once the trip was over, she need never see Max Whittaker again, so anything she told him now wouldn’t matter in the slightest.

Making up her mind to confide in him, Elizabeth glanced once more around the room to make certain her parents hadn’t arrived. Thus assured, she leaned slightly toward Max and began, “I want to go to Vassar, because…”

While Elizabeth was conversing with Max in the restaurant on B deck, Katie Hanrahan, flanked by two small children and their nanny, Eileen O’Keefe, stood slightly behind Brian and Patrick in the entrance to the third-class dining room on F deck amidships. Katie’s eyes were open wide, as was her mouth. “My,” she declared softly, her delighted gaze sweeping the room, “isn’t it grand, then?”

It was, indeed, quite grand, unlike anything she had ever seen before. She had anticipated a bare-floored room with long, functional wooden tables and uncomfortable benches. The benches would be so crowded, there would hardly be room to lift a fork to one’s mouth. But this was not the case in the dining salon. The room was large, its walls enameled a bright, shiny white and decorated with posters of seafaring ships. There were chairs, not benches, and they looked comfortable. The tables were covered with fine white cloths. It was a bright, attractive room.

Katie had expected to stand in line to receive her food. To her amazement, people were already seated at the tables, and waiters in uniform were circulating with trays.

“And are we havin’ waiters, too?” Eileen whispered in awe, spotting one of the dark-jacketed gentlemen carrying a tray filled with glasses. “Men waitin’ on me, sure and that’s a wonder! Wait’ll I tell Sean. He’ll be green as the grass of Ireland with envy.”

Katie noticed Brian peering around the room as if he’d lost something, and guessed instantly who he was looking for. Marta. Katie looked, too, but didn’t see her.

“There’s another dining room on the other side of the bulkhead,” a young waiter said, noticing as he passed them that they seemed to be looking for someone. “Could be whoever you’re seeking is in that room.”

Without a word, Brian turned on his heels and went to examine the second room. Katie and the others followed, with Paddy complaining that he was hungry and what was Brian looking for, anyway?

It seemed clear to Katie that Brian hadn’t shared with his younger brother the news of his new and very pretty shipboard acquaintance. Maybe he was afraid his brother would try to steal her. And Paddy himself had no doubt been too busy fostering his own long list of female acquaintanceships.

Marta was seated at a table near the rear of the room. But when Brian saw that she was surrounded by the friends she was traveling with, he ducked back out of the room. “Let’s eat in the first one, then,” he said gruffly, and again led the way.

“What was
that
all about?” Paddy queried, but Brian had already chosen a table and was helping the two children with their chairs. Marta’s name wasn’t mentioned. Paddy took a seat beside Eileen, and seemed surprised when Brian failed to take the empty chair next to Katie’s. He frowned, looking confused. After a moment, he got up and slid into the chair. “You shouldn’t be sittin’ here all alone,” he said gruffly, aiming a hostile look at his brother. “What’s ditherin’ him, anyway? He’s not taken a shine to that nanny, has he?”

Katie laughed. “Eileen? She’s engaged. To a boy from Cork. And Brian can sit anywhere he wants to.” Thinking he had sat down beside her out of a sense of duty, she said archly, “And I can take care of meself, y’know.”

He looked at her. “Aye, you can. But you shouldn’t have to. ’Tis Brian’s job.”

Brian wasn’t sitting that far away, just two chairs down. “Hush!” Katie remonstrated, putting a finger to her lips. “’Tisn’t his job at all, and I don’t know where you got such an idea. ’Tis
my
job, now that I’ve left home, and my job alone.”

Paddy looked unconvinced, and might have continued to argue had not the little girl, Bridey, complained loudly that she wanted nothing but bread pudding for dinner and Eileen hadn’t better give her anything else or she would throw it on the floor.