Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Cassian
On White Star Dock, Cassian stared up at the RMS Titanic in wonderment, his eyes wide and mouth agape as he took in her splendor.
Her facade looked immaculate—the picture of elegance—and her size alone communicated such strength and resilience.
Cassian could hardly believe how much larger she seemed than every other ship on which he had ever traveled.
Next to him, Ethel and her mother, Helena, looked equally as impressed.
Cassian’s chest swelled with pride as he watched Ethel’s eyes sparkle, her brown irises shimmering in the late morning sunlight like little rounds of mahogany obsidian.
She seemed excited. Honestly and truly excited.
And he wondered whether this might be the thing to help them finally become close—some time together on the most illustrious ship in the world.
Clearly Ethel was capable of being moved by the ship’s magnificence.
Perhaps, soon, she could be moved by his magnificence, too.
“How fortunate we are to have secured our tickets,” he mused aloud.
“Yes, we certainly are, thanks to you,” Helena said happily.
Cassian preened as he continued to stare up at the incredible ship. “Isn’t she a sight to behold, Ethel? I have a feeling that the rest of her is equally as spectacular, too.”
“It is more majestic than I thought it would be,” Ethel replied.
“She,” Cassian corrected with a small smirk. “When you talk about a boat or a ship, sweetheart, she is always a she.”
“Right.” Ethel squinted up at the ship. “Why is that?”
Helena chuckled. “Don’t bother trying to make sense of such things, dear. In fact, I once asked your father the same question.”
“And what was his answer?” Ethel asked.
“That boats were ‘she’ because that was simply the way it was.”
Cassian nodded approvingly. Yes, that was the perfect explanation. And it could be applied to a great many other things, too. Some things just were. It was merely the way of the world.
Cassian’s valet, John Quinn, came up beside them carrying a single suitcase, one that Cassian wasn’t comfortable letting the White Star Line employees handle since it contained more money than most of them might make in even twenty years’ time.
“All of your other bags are now on their way to your room, sir.” Mr. Quinn leaned forward to catch Ethel’s eye. “Yours as well, miss.”
Ethel smiled sweetly. “Thank you, Mr. Quinn.”
Cassian lifted his chin, gesturing toward the ship. “Let’s board, then, shall we? I’m eager to find out if our accommodations are as luxurious as has been said.”
Everyone started over to the gangway. Ethel’s mother stumbled forward a little as she stepped up onto it, and Cassian hurried ahead to offer her his arm.
Behind him, Mr. Quinn offered Ethel the same support.
Looking back over his shoulder halfway up the ramp, Cassian smiled to himself upon seeing Ethel’s clearly happy expression, the lingering sparkle in her eyes reassuring him that maybe there was hope for their future together after all.
Crossing through the vestibule, the four travelers stepped into an entrance hall.
In the center, there was a beautiful oak staircase whose posts were topped with pineapple finials, and from the ceiling hung several beaded glass electroliers that illuminated the room.
Cassian swiveled his head slowly as he took everything in.
It was a lovely enough space but lacking a bit of the personality that Cassian had expected.
Other than the staircase, which was plenty ornate, the room was mostly plain, though the lounge chairs and sofas lining most of the wall space looked comfortable.
He hoped that the staterooms themselves were more exciting.
After untangling himself from Helena’s grasp, Cassian took one more look back at Ethel before entering the corridor that would lead them to their rooms. Accompanied by Mr. Quinn, Ethel continued to smile as she followed.
She somehow seemed pleased enough with the slightly lackluster entrance room.
Hopefully that boded well for her enjoyment of the rest of the ship, like the parlors and lounges and writing room, provided that the illustrations Cassian had seen of them hadn’t been embellished.
One-third of the way down the corridor, a man who would likely be their cabin steward was there to greet them. For the next few minutes, Cassian and the others waited while their luggage was brought into their four rooms by the cabin steward plus several other crew members.
During that time, Cassian checked his pocket watch twice, his impatience intensifying more with each passing minute. Really, the crew ought to have been practiced enough to sort their things more swiftly than this.
After what felt like a long while, their rooms were finally ready.
Cassian took a fast peek inside his to make sure that it was sufficient.
Decorated in Modern Dutch style, the room had a maroon-, brown-, and beige-colored carpet, and its wall panels were made of sycamore.
It felt warm and cozy, while still having a sense of elegance to it.
It was, in a word, perfect. Cassian let out a small sigh of relief. Money well spent.
Afterward, Cassian left to see that Ethel was happy with her room. Although it was Old Dutch style instead, it, too, was lovely, with wood paneling on the lower half of the walls and a beautiful blue fabric that covered the rest.
Ethel was sitting on the edge of the larger of the room’s two beds. Cassian promised himself that he’d take a look at the other rooms later. Right now, he wanted to spend a bit of time with his fiancée.
Hooking his hands behind his back, Cassian cleared his throat and said, “Do you like it?”
“Very much,” Ethel replied with a cordial smile, her exuberance from earlier already having fizzled away. “It’s a lovely room. Truly. Thank you.”
“Of course.” He frowned a little. “Are you . . . well? You seem—”
“Actually, I’m feeling a bit tired.”
“Ah. I can’t blame you. It’s been a long trip. Perhaps, next time, you should stay back in New York, as I suggested?”
“I might. Will you be traveling to London often for business?”
Cassian shrugged one of his shoulders. “I’m afraid so.
I’ll be partnering with Mr. Ellerman to open a manufacturing plant here in London.
Over the next year or so, I’ll likely be coming to Europe every couple of months.
Not for as long, mind you, but I won’t be home all the time.
Still, I’ll see to it that the two of us have some time together after our wedding in the fall. Don’t worry about that.”
“I see,” she said, nodding slowly. “And I’m not. Worried, that is.”
Of course she wasn’t.
“Mr. Quinn has helped me arrange a tour of the first-class accommodations on the ship,” Cassian said. “If you’d like to come, I think it could be fun to explore everything that Titanic has to offer together. But if you’re too tired, that’s fine, too.”
Ethel rolled her bottom lip between her teeth, her brow furrowing and eyes falling to her lap while she seemed to consider the offer. After a moment, she looked back up at Cassian and smiled shyly.
“I’m, ah, I’m feeling well enough to explore, I think.”
Cassian smiled back, relief washing over him upon seeing some of her happiness returning. Titanic’s horns began to blare. Cassian raised his eyebrows in an exaggerated and playful manner.
“We’re officially on our way home now, it seems,” he said.
“Shall we find Mr. Quinn for the tour, then?” Ethel asked, her smile blossoming so much that her eyes were crinkling at the corners.
Cassian held out his arm. “Yes, let’s.”
Together, the two walked back out to the corridor. Cassian patted her hand, satisfied that things were improving.
***
That evening, shortly before their scheduled seven o’clock mealtime, Cassian was enjoying a concoction called Punch à la Romaine—a rum- and champagne-based cocktail—while waiting in the reception area for the saloon to open.
Murmurs of lively conversation mingled with happy notes from the string band, the sounds converging as a pleasant, melodic hum in Cassian’s ears.
Milling around the space with Ethel on his arm, Cassian was only half listening to whatever Ethel, Mr. Quinn, and Helena were talking about.
Instead, he was mostly taking in some of the finer intricacies of the ship’s architecture, like the candelabra at the base of Titanic’s forward Grand Staircase.
Suddenly, Cassian’s mind floated back to the bronze cherub statue that he had seen earlier, and he found himself thinking about his time with the saloon steward on the boat train.
He couldn’t help but wonder how the fellow was settling in.
“Cassian?” Ethel asked. “What are your thoughts?”
Cassian blinked twice. “Apologies, I was thinking about the—the paperwork I have to mail back to London once we reach home. What are we talking about?”
“Just whether or not we ought to try the swimming bath. It’s still relatively chilly outside, isn’t it?” Ethel said.
“I, for one, can’t imagine swimming right now,” Mr. Quinn said. “In the summertime, though, maybe.”
Ethel lifted her eyebrows. “See, Cassian, that’s precisely what I was thinking. I wonder why they’d even open such a thing in April.”
Cassian bristled a little. He had paid a handsome sum of money for them to travel in luxury, which included use of the saltwater swimming bath, regardless of the season.
“Yes, well, the bath is heated, if I remember correctly, so I shall certainly try it. Honestly, we should all try to enjoy as much of Titanic’s splendor as possible.
Otherwise, why in God’s name did I pay so much for our tickets?
” He forced a light laugh as he realized how curt he probably sounded.
“I think you ought to go for a swim tomorrow, Ethel. It will be refreshing. I promise.”
“You’re too right, Mr. Livingston,” Mr. Quinn said, his tone noticeably apologetic.