Unsinkable (3 page)

C
arrington took great care in dressing for dinner. Without thinking about it at all, she reached for the loveliest evening gown in her wardrobe, a new creation made of cream colored lace over lavender silk. The gown was empire style, with a neck that was just low enough but still proper for a girl her age and embroidered all over with clusters of sequins and crystals. A small train swept behind her and the shoes she wore matched the gown. She piled her hair high on her head and let only a few red-gold tendrils cascade down her back and dressed her upsweep with a crystal comb and white gardenias. A glittering diamond necklace finished her outfit. Even her mother approved.

“That is a lovely gown,” she said as they started down the grand carved staircase for dinner. “Even prettier than I had imagined it would be when we had it made.”

She kept looking for the handsome man she had seen on deck as they were escorted to their table. She temporarily forgot about him as they were introduced to the Astors who would be dining with them for the duration of the voyage. She was wondering how to broach the subject of their trip to Cairo when Mr. Astor introduced her to Molly Brown.

“Molly was in Cairo with us,” he said. “Are you perhaps interested in Egypt at all, Miss St .Clair?”

“So very interested,” Carrington exclaimed. “How thrilling it must have been to actually be there.”

“It was quite something,” Molly said. “I brought back three crates of souvenirs. Mr. Brown has no idea what’s about to have to be unloaded.”

“You saw the pyramids?” Carrington asked.

“Saw them and a good bit of what’s inside them,” Molly remarked.

“I cannot imagine anything more wonderful,” Carrington said.

“Then by all means,” John Jacob Astor said, “you should see it in person. I’m sure we’ll have another expedition soon. I can’t quite get enough of it all myself. Perhaps your parents would let you accompany us.”

Carrington tried not to look too excited at the prospect. “I would love that, Mr. Astor.”

“Well.” Rose St. Clair said, “Perhaps we could think about that.”

Carrington’s father and the other gentleman rose as three other people approached table.

“Jackson MacKenzie,” Wilson said, stretching out his hand. “It’s been years.”

Beckett’s father shook Carrington’s father’s hand. She looked at Beckett, who was standing beside his father, recognizing him as the man she had seen after boarding. But if this man was Jackson MacKenzie, then…

“You remember the St. Clairs, my dear,” Jackson said to his wife.

“Of course,” Alice MacKenzie said. “Although it has been a long time. And this is Beckett.”

“Who has grown up since you last saw him,” Jackson said as they took their seats. “And this beautiful young lady can only be Carrington.”

Beckett took the empty seat beside Carrington. The woman he had fallen in love with on deck, who was dressed exactly as he had predicted she would be, was his favorite childhood playmate?

“Hello, Carri,” he said.

Carrington blushed. “I don’t go by Carri anymore, Beckett.”

“I will try to remember that,” he said, smiling at her.

“And I shall hope that you no longer carry frogs in your pocket?” The whole table laughed at their reunion as the waiters began serving the first course.

“I haven’t played with frogs in quite some time,” Beckett said quietly. “And as I recall, you went away and didn’t say goodbye.”

“We went abroad for three years. And I begged to come say goodbye, but my parents said we didn’t have time with all the arrangements.”

“I was inconsolable,” he teased.

“For about two days and then you forgot about me and went off to play with your friend with the dreadful manners…Warren, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” Beckett said as Warren sat down beside him. “And he is still lacking in manners, as is apparent in the fact that he has arrived at dinner after the first course was served.” He turned to Warren. “Do you remember our childhood playmate Carrington St. Clair?”

“Little Carri, all grown up,” Warren said.

“And she doesn’t like ‘Carri’ anymore,” Beckett said.

Carrington turned a shade of pink. He had been in her presence for less than ten minutes and he was already teasing her as he had when they were children.

The first course was taken away and the second replaced it. Wilson St. Clair addressed Beckett.

“Beckett, I trust that you are following in your father’s footsteps and have also gone into banking?”

“Not yet,” Beckett replied.

“Beckett has this notion that he wants to write books,” Jackson laughed and several of the other men at their table laughed also. Molly Brown came to his rescue.

“I like a good book myself, Beckett. What kind of book are you writing?”

“I think it started out to be a mystery with some Egyptian folklore thrown in, but it seems to have taken a romantic bent,” Beckett said, spearing a chilled shrimp.

“Well, we might be able to help you out with that,” Molly said amiably. “J.J. and Madeleine and myself and Mr. Stead over there have just come from Egypt.”

William Stead said, “And I heard that there might even be a mummy on board the ship.”

Carrington turned her attention away from gazing at Beckett’s profile. “Really?”

“The ship has a big cargo hold,” Stead said. “One never knows.”

Molly Brown laughed. “I brought crates big enough to hold a mummy myself, that’s for sure.”

“I would like to talk to someone about Egypt,” Beckett said as the dishes were changed out once again. He wondered how many courses dinners on the
Titanic
would consist of.

“Of course,” John Jacob Astor replied. “But I believe that Miss St. Clair can also help you with that.

Apparently she is quite well read on the subject.”

“I have read so much,” Carrington admitted. “But it can’t compare to actually
being
there.”

Her father changed the subject and the dinner continued without any more talk of mummies and Egyptian excavations. She and Beckett made small talk and eye contact frequently as the meal progressed. When the men rose to retire to a private salon and smoke cigars, Beckett turned to Carrington.

“May I escort you up on deck for a stroll?”

“Mother, is that acceptable?” Carrington asked, knowing that she was going anyway.

“Of course,” Rose said quickly.
Beckett MacKenzie,
she thought.
Why did I never think of him? And Carrington seems quite taken with him.
She resolved to talk to her husband about that later in the evening and struck up a conversation with Alice MacKenzie.

Beckett stood and pulled out her chair. She smiled at him and his heart skipped a beat. The dress she wore was exactly as he imagined it when he wrote about it in the book. Could he tell her about that? Should he?

She took his arm and they found themselves on the deck under the stars.

“I can’t believe that we are both sailing on the maiden voyage of the ‘ship of dreams’,” Carrington said.

“Of all the people I expected to be on board,” Beckett said, “you weren’t one of them.”

“Are you going to say that you thought of me non- stop night and day?” Carrington asked playfully. Her tone surprised her; she never flirted with men, but with Beckett, the teasing seemed to roll so easily off her tongue.

“But I did.” He smiled. “For at least three weeks.”

She laughed with him. “That long?”

“Well, I was only eight, after all. What have you been doing since then? How did you end up on
Titanic
?”

“We lived in England for three years and then Father got involved in a new business and we came back to New York. I had hoped that they would see fit to let me attend college, but they didn’t. Instead Mother had gotten it into her head when we lived in England that I needed to one day wed a titled Englishman, so we recently spend the last month there, while I avoided the proposals of the Viscount Alastair Tregarron.”

“He sounds…very British.”

“He was. Not that he could help it. He just wanted a very traditional wife, one who would be content to be the lady of the manor and do needle point while he went hunting and watch the children. I didn’t think he would ever be accepting of a wife who wanted more. One who was far too interested in books and traveling and discovering things on her own.”

Beckett leaned against the rail. The moon and stars shone brightly above them. The ship moved easily through the water.

“I’m quite fond of books myself,” he said. “And I understand wanting to travel. Since graduation Warren and I have been visiting whatever country strikes our fancy. Mother and Dad joined us three months ago. Dad had business meetings, but I suspect that his real intention was to make sure I actually came back and started the job he’s been holding for me at the bank.”

Carrington said, “You aren’t interested in a career in investment banking? Most men would love that kind of opportunity, wouldn’t they?”

Beckett sighed. “Yes, Warren tells me that all the time. It just isn’t the life I want. All I’ve ever wanted to do is write.”

“What is your book about?”

“I’m afraid I’m not completely sure. It started out being about a character who is very similar to me and then it took a romantic turn when I saw you on board. I’m not sure what to think about what I’ve been writing. It’s been a little …odd.”

“The story is odd?”

“No, the experience of writing it.” He paused. “If I tell you, will you promise not to think I’m crazy?”

“I don’t know. Tell me and I’ll make a judgment.”

He laughed and pulled out the book. “This is the book I’m using to write my novel.”

“It’s beautiful. Where did you find it?”

“In a market in Morocco. There was a man in a turban behind the table and he looked like a character out of Aladdin. He spoke with that sort of British accent that foreigners acquire when they study in England. He said that it was a book that had the power to change lives.”

“So you bought it, thinking it would change yours?”

He smiled. “No. I didn’t believe him. I bought it because I like the way the book looked and I needed something to write in. But then I started writing and…”
Would
she think he was crazy?