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“Young Rose, we meet again.”
Rose smiled up at Thomas Andrews, her book forgotten in her hands.
To be honest, she hadn’t been able to focus on the words, having found herself reading the same paragraph multiple times and understanding none of it. The handsome shipbuilder had discovered her in the Reading Room two days in a row, and she'd been hoping he would appear again today. She was quite sure their run ins were no longer a coincidence.
“Mr. Andrews, a pleasure,” she said, offering her hand. “What brings you here today?” she continued, as he took it.
“I’m keeping an eye on the usage of the room,” he said, and she gestured for him to sit. “Is it the best use of the space, and so on.”
“As you can see, the usage is once again low,” she said. The room was airy and beautiful, small vignettes of writing desks and yellow silk seating spread around and tucked into corners, next to the lounge with its collection of books for passenger use.
She had seen two ladies and Mr. Thomas the first day she ducked in here to hide from her mother and Cal, and no other passengers since. There had been occasional crew, coming to ask Mr. Andrews for guidance or assistance, which he always gladly offered before returning to her. But largely, they had the room to themselves for however long they wished it.
“Indeed it is,” he agreed. He could have continued on his way, working, but instead settled back in his chair and she gave him a bright smile.
“What have you found to read today?” he asked.
“Howards End,” she replied, sending them into a stimulating discussion of class and gender.
Her mother would be horrified to hear her speaking so, and the less said about Cal the better. But Mr. Andrews never failed to listen and consider her points, and sometimes even concede to them.
They’d already discussed Sinclair and even Freud, though Mr. Andrews had blushed through most of that conversation. She had found it rather charming and endearing, much like the man himself. And it made it easier to stay collected in the face of his fluster.
Honestly, she wasn’t sure what she would have done without their conversations during the voyage. Something drastic, perhaps.
“Well, there you are.” Cal’s voice, so flat compared to Mr. Andrews’s lilting Irish accent, loudly interrupted them.
Rose stiffened, and Mr. Andrews looked at her intently. “Cal,” she said calmly, balling up a fist out of sight. “How are you, darling?”
“All the better for seeing you,” he said smoothly. “Your mother and I have been searching for you. We have seats for the concert, and you are about to make us late.” His voice deepened on his last words, and it gave them a menacing air.
“I do apologize,” Mr. Andrews said, standing. “We must have lost track of time.” He and Cal were nearly the same height, but he managed to loom ever so slightly over Cal. “Your fiancée is an intelligent young woman, and first-rate conversationalist. I’m afraid that I couldn’t possibly let her leave before we are finished with our discussion.”
“Oh, really?” Cal said, glancing between them. “You’ve charmed yet another man, have you, sweet pea? You’re not meant to be collecting us.” His smile did not reach his eyes.
“I’ll return her for a tour of the decks this afternoon,” Mr. Andrews said firmly. He made a show of looking at his time piece, Rose and Cal both drawn to the solid gold that reminded them that he wasn’t just the ship architect, but a member of high British society, with the family wealth that went with it.
“Of course,” Cal said, after just a hint of pause. “Just as you say.” He glanced at Rose. “Behave yourself, darling.”
“Enjoy the concert,” she said, wilting against the sofa as he exited the room.
The moment he was out of sight, Mr. Andrews had stepped past his chair and sat next to her.
“Oh, love, why are you marrying him?” he asked. “Neither of you have any regard for the other and you’re miserable in his presence.”
“Why does anyone do anything?” Rose asked, closing her eyes and reveling in the warmth of him and his concern. Unlike Trudy’s, it was comforting. “My mother wishes it. My father left us nothing, and I’m the one who is to be sacrificed.”
She rested her hand on his suit sleeve and felt her heart beat faster. Did she dare? He had moved so close, closer than he ever had before.
“And may I say,” she said slowly, looking down before meeting his eyes, “I think I prefer being called ‘love,’ rather than ‘young.’”
He pulled back as if burned by her touch. “I, I apologize,” he said, blushing, but she didn’t let him get up.
“Please don’t,” she said. “I liked it.” She found his sleeve again, wrapping her fingers around his wrist for stability as she took the risk and jumped. “I like you.”
“I like you, too, Rose,” he said, after what felt like an eternity. “But you are-”
“I am not too young,” she interrupted him. “I am an unhappily engaged woman. And you are the only person in a long time to see me as a human being, with a brain and preferences and the ability to make my own decisions.”
She could see him wrestling with his indecision, but he didn’t pull back again. She gave him the time he clearly needed and tried not to hold her breath.
“You must call me Tommie,” he said, finally. “As my friends and family do.”
“Tommie,” she said, feeling her smile light her face, and seeing it matched on his. “Tommie, there’s so much of the ship I haven’t seen yet. Will you show it to me?”
“The Turkish baths have just opened today,” he offered. “It’s between passenger hours, so it and the swimming bath will be empty. Have you visited those spaces yet?”
“My mother refused,” Rose said, taking his arm and walking with him to the grand staircase.
They took the stairs down to the F deck, with its decidedly un-grand end, nodding to acquaintances as they passed. Rose’s heart beat faster every time she saw someone she knew, a little giddy rush, but of course it was quite normal to receive tours and the others likely wished they were in her place. If only they knew!
The door to the Turkish baths were locked, and Tommie pulled a ring of keys from his jacket to let them in. He locked it again behind them, and she felt a thrill and went hot all over as it clicked.
Of course the warm air piped in wasn’t helping, but she was certain that the heat was coming from inside more than out.
He pointed out the many different rooms to her as they walked through. “I don’t see the fun in being roasted in an oven,” she said about the fancy electric baths, “but a massage sounds rather daring.” She’d never known anyone who had received one before.
“The masseuses, while lovely, are quite matronly. I don’t think anyone would call either daring,” Tommie said, smiling.
“You know what I meant,” Rose protested. “Being touched while, you know, en dishabille, not in a state of dressing.” Sweat was beading along her hairline from the warm air and she felt more awkward than she’d like.
She felt his hand warm on her shoulder, and met his kind gaze. “I understand.” He took her hand, and continued their walk down the corridor. “Next is the cooling room. I think perhaps we both need it.”
The room was filled with comfortably reclining chairs, and as she regained her composure, she could imagine the gossip shared here.
But no one would see what she was about to do in this windowless room.
Rose removed her gloves and unbuttoned the thick sash holding her jacket to her body, letting them fall on the nearest chair. She offered her wrists to Tommie, whose dark eyes were focused on them. “Can you help unbutton these for me?”
The three satin bands at the cuffs had one button each. His warm fingers ghosted over bare skin as he slowly and carefully unbuttoned each one, finishing with a kiss to the back of her hand. Her breath came harder as he repeated the actions on her left.
“Thank you,” she said, trying to keep her voice even.
“Of course,” he said, his voice lower than usual. “May I?”
She quietly turned her back to him. With her wrists freed, he was able to slide the jacket down her arms and off, leaving her in her lace bodice and skirt. It was a relief to be rid of the heavy velvet and to feel his hands on her arms as he turned her back around.
Their eyes met and she wasn’t sure if she stepped forward or if he did, but they were in each other’s arms and kissing, and it was the most exhilarating, heady feeling she’d ever had. She felt powerful from leading them to this moment, this glorious moment she’d dreamed of the past two nights.
One of his hands was spanning her back, the other tracing along her bare arm, and she slid her hands down and under his waistcoat, feeling his warmth bleed through the crisp cotton of his shirt, barely taking pauses to breathe. He’d just tilted her head back, sliding his lips to her jaw, when they heard a door close and women’s voices a room away.
Rose’s breath hitched, both from the sensation and the sudden zinging frisson of fear and excitement at nearly being caught. Tommie pulled back slowly, clearing his throat, as she grabbed for her jacket and sash.
“I believe I have forgotten myself entirely,” he said, helping her redress.
She bent to retrieve his hat, which had been knocked off very quickly, and found that her hands were trembling. “I think we both have,” she said. She placed the hat back on his head, and couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out.
Her hand flew to her mouth as she tried to stifle it, but Tommie was also laughing. “You make me feel like a schoolboy again,” he said. “Your sleeves are askew.”
“As is your hat,” Rose said, and they tried to make themselves more presentable. “Oh, I can’t stop laughing.”
“Nervous energy,” Tommie said, wiping a tear away. “I’m glad I didn’t give into impulse and kiss you in the reading room, or the hallway, or the corridor, or, well, you get the picture. We would have been caught out in an instant, if this moment is any indication.”
With Rose’s cuffs properly rebuttoned, they were ready to be seen. Tommie held his hat in front of himself, and opened the door to the corridor for her.
“Absolutely beautiful tiling,” Rose said as they got closer to the chatty voices.
“They’re painted by hand in a Persian style,” Tommie said. “Good day, Mrs. Slocombe, Miss Caton.”
“You’re lucky to be getting a tour with Mr. Andrews himself,” the tall, fair woman said. “Enjoy it, dearie.”
“I am, very much,” Rose said, only years of practice allowing her face to remain passive. “Thank you.”
They left with minimal small talk and Rose was giddy with the excitement of getting away with everything.
Unfortunately there were no other opportunities for stolen moments, but they took every opportunity to hold each other’s hands out of sight. His strong, capable hand wrapped around hers like it was meant to be there, and Rose felt it deep inside her. She never wanted to let go.
Continuing the tour on desk with her mother and Cal made a stark comparison to her time with Tommie only. Neither would ever respect her, or see her value. She was inconsequential to them as a person, only important in terms of how useful she could be to their needs. For money, for heirs. A cow to be bartered.
This couldn’t be her life. She deserved so much more. And by Jove, she was going to have it, come hell or high water. She didn’t know how, but this was the day her life was going to change.
And it was, in ways she never could have imagined. It was her best day and her worst, the stuff of dreams and nightmares.
In the coming years, she’d mourn the details that had been lost in the shock and trauma. There were scenes she could see plain as day one hundred years later, and others she couldn’t picture the next morning.
She remembered Tommie asking her to meet him after dinner.
Changing into a lighter, more easily removable lavender dress.
Asking for his hands on her, and him obliging.
Being in bed with him and his blueprints, asking her opinion on his proposed changes for future voyages.
The pendant light rocking.
His care brushing her hair after they dressed.
All fragments. What came next was burned into her.
The horror of his announcement that Titanic would sink.
Chasing him to the cabins to alert passengers.
The first time they realized the tilt of the deck.
Refusing to join her mother on a boat, Tommie ready to hit Cal for grabbing her.
Reassuring women and children and keeping order as Tommie helped and prodded them into boats.
Throwing deck chairs over the railing to help the unfortunates unable to be in a boat.
Knowing she would be one of them.
Defiantly taking kisses from Tommie every chance available, no matter who was looking. Who would live to tell?
The rush of cold water and feeling of drowning that would haunt her nights forever.
The miracle of being dragged onto a collapsible boat.
The second miracle of Tommie climbing on a moment or an eternity later.
They talked the whole night to keep awake, she knows that’s when they realized they could never marry another after this experience, but she remembers nothing of it until the next morning when they told her mother and Cal.
So much of the hard stayed with her, so little of the good.
But in the end, she had her life of love and adventure with Tommie, a lifetime of his twinkling eyes and kind but impish smile.
And that she would remember always.