The Glass Ocean

by Beatriz Williams

  Caroline almost asked him then about what he’d said to Robert. And what Gilbert knew about Robert’s mission. Even why he’d needed the Strauss manuscript the night before. The words were so close to the tip of her tongue that she could almost taste the sourness of them, the way they would snatch away this perfect moment. A moment she’d been trying to find since they’d embarked in New York. And if she spoke Robert’s name out loud, it would remind her of where she’d been in the early hours of the morning, and whose lips had last touched hers. He told me that he loved you more than I ever could. Gilbert had said that to Robert. Gilbert—the man she’d married and sworn to love and cherish. The same man sitting next to her now with searching blue eyes and a warm smile, declaring his love and waiting for her to speak. There’d be plenty of time later, she decided, when it was just the two of them again. Time to talk, to confess. To plan.

  “I love you, too, Gilbert. More than I can ever say.” She swallowed, searching for the gumption her mother had told her she had, then opened her mouth to say more. But Gilbert spoke first, almost as if he knew what she’d been about to confess.

  “I owe you an apology, Caroline.” He took both of her hands in his, uncaring that there were people around them who might see.

  “For what?” she finally managed.

  “For not allowing you into my life—into all aspects of it. You have a keen mind, it’s one of the many things I love about you. I thought I was protecting you from the harsh realities of life, of war. I wanted to believe that if I kept you ignorant of what was really going on, that when I returned home I’d return to a wholesome innocence. But that wasn’t exactly fair to you, was it? Yet even when you asked to be let in, I still denied you with perhaps more than my share of masculine pride.”

  Caroline sat still, afraid to move in case he realized what he was saying and to whom.

  Gilbert looked down at their hands. “I invented something. Something important. Something that could determine the outcome of this war. It’s a new steel alloy that will make soldiers’ helmets stronger, and stronger helmets will save lives. I knew the British have been looking for such an alloy, and I thought I might be able to help. I was good at chemistry in school and I started playing around with some of the compounds.” He lowered his head. “I kept thinking about those young men in the trenches, how each of them is someone’s father, or husband. Or son. My company makes weapons that kill. And here was my chance to save lives.”

  “And you invented this alloy?” Caroline said, her heart swelling with pride.

  “Yes. By accident, actually. I didn’t really know what I’d done at first. But there you have it.”

  She thought for a moment as pieces began to take shape and fit together. “That’s why we’re on Lusitania,” she said. “To bring the formula to the British.” She met his eyes. “That was the mission you and Robert are involved in. He was sent to protect you, to keep the formula safe.”

  “Yes,” Gilbert said, looking up briefly at the mention of Robert’s name. “I have the formula memorized, but I gave it to Robert just to be safe.”

  “So the Strauss waltz . . .”

  “Was just a distraction. In case there were others on board who knew about the formula. We wanted them to believe the secret was in the manuscript.” He grinned. “I even added an extra page with a lot of cryptic nonsense written on it just to throw them off if it was indeed stolen.”

  Caroline sat up straighter. “So why did you want the manuscript to show to Mr. Lauriet last night?”

  Gilbert looked genuinely confused. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Last night Jones came to me and said you needed the manuscript and so I gave it to her.”

  Gilbert rubbed his chin. “Good Lord, Jones?” He made to stand, then returned to his seat. “I’ll let Langford know. No good rushing off right now—there’s really no place she can hide and we’ll make sure to telegraph ahead to let the proper authorities know to arrest her when we arrive in Liverpool.”

  It was Caroline’s turn to look down at their clasped hands. “I’ve been so stupid. And not just in hiring Jones without due diligence, but for not trusting you. I’ve been so angry, and yet I should have known that you were only doing this because you love me and wanted to protect me. To keep me safe. And I—”

  “Don’t say it, Caroline. If you were about to say something about Robert, don’t. Let this be about you and me from here on out. Let us start our new lives now—now that all of this is behind us.”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a linen handkerchief embroidered with his monogram. She purchased them by the dozen at B. Altman on Fifth Avenue and Thirty-Fourth Street because he lost them as quickly as she could buy them. “Here,” he said gently.

  She took it, surprised to find her eyes moist.

  “Would you like to stroll the promenade? A walk in fresh air always helps with digestion and it’s a glorious day outside. We’re approaching Ireland and are close enough to see the coast.” Gilbert placed his hand on the table palm-up, his eyes an open invitation.

  “I’d like that,” she said, putting her hand in his, enjoying the sensation of security and protection as his fingers closed over hers.

  “We can talk about our future together and all the plans to be made. I’ll even learn to ride a horse so I can ride with you in Central Park. You’ve been asking me since we were married and I think it’s time.”

  “Yes.” She squeezed his hand, her heart burning with love and shame and uncertainty. “I’d like that,” she managed to say. “Very much. And I promise to be patient with you each and every time you fall out of the saddle.”

  He laughed, the deep, chest-rumbling laugh she loved and had heard so little over the last year. Gilbert’s gaze drifted behind her and he quickly sobered. Caroline turned to see Patrick approaching, another telegram in his hand.

  “Madam,” he said, acknowledging Caroline before turning to Gilbert. “I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, but you have a telegram and they are awaiting your reply.”

  Gilbert opened the telegram and read it quickly. He glanced at Caroline, his eyes uncertain. “It’s the New York office. I’m afraid it’s rather urgent.”

  “I understand,” she said, because she did. “But promise me you’ll come find me on the Promenade Deck so we can enjoy a stroll together?”

  “I promise.” Gilbert took her hand and kissed it. “I’ll escort you to the lifts.”

  Caroline shook her head. “I’m going to stay here for a few minutes and try and eat my ice cream. Patrick can escort me.”

  “Good,” he said, as he pulled back his chair. “I’ll see you shortly.”

  Gilbert excused himself and left. Caroline picked up her spoon but replaced it on the table as soon as Gilbert disappeared through the doorway. She reached for the paper luncheon menu and pulled a gold fountain pen, a gift from Gilbert, from her purse. She didn’t stop to think about her words, only that she needed to write them. When she was done, she folded the rectangular menu into quarters and handed it to Patrick.

  “Please make sure that Mr. Langford gets this as soon as possible.”

  He took the folded paper, his eyes blank. “Yes, madam.”

  “Thank you. And I can find my way to the lifts on my own. I just need you to hurry and find Mr. Langford.”

  For a brief moment it seemed as if Patrick were waiting to say something, to ask her if she was sure. As if he knew what she’d written, and what she’d decided. But Caroline didn’t acknowledge it, realizing it must have been a trick of the light pouring in from the skylight above that made her think the steward was more than what he seemed. She turned back to her ice cream in dismissal and even managed a small bite while waiting for him to leave before she stood and left the dining saloon.

  Passengers swarmed the promenade like bees around a hive in summer, taking advantage of the warmer air and bright sunshine. The flat smoothness of the ocean reflected the brilliant blue sky like a looking glass,
giving the illusion of endless heaven. Children played jump rope and ran away from nannies and stewardesses who tried to appear stern as they attempted to corral them. But everyone seemed to be smiling, owing no doubt to the good weather and the fact that the long ocean voyage was nearing its end.

  Caroline breathed in the fresh air, feeling as if there was more room inside her now that she’d made her decision. She tried not to think about it, having always been taught that once a decision was made the past was the past and there was nowhere else to go but forward. She had to believe she’d made the right choice. Moving backward was no longer an option. For the first time in a very long while, she felt happy, as if the world held only possibilities.

  Even the sight of Prunella and Margery couldn’t dim her mood or her smile as she approached the railing. She inclined her head in greeting, carefully avoiding the flapping feathers on Margery’s wide-brimmed hat that from a distance appeared to be a large bird roosting on her head. At least it created enough shadow to hide the unfortunate mouth sore that still hadn’t disappeared.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Schuyler. Miss Schuyler. What a beautiful day, isn’t it?”

  Margery sniffed. “It would be, I suppose, if my rheumatism wasn’t acting up. And if all of these . . . children weren’t running wild. Isn’t there some sort of holding pen for them? One would think a ship such as the Lusitania would have thought to have one.”

  Caroline’s attention was focused behind the older woman where Gilbert had just appeared on the promenade, unaware as yet of her presence nearby. She started to lift her hand in a wave, but stopped as she noticed the man only an arm’s length away, equally as oblivious to the other man’s presence. Robert. He was talking to the steward, Patrick, their expressions serious. She wondered if it had anything to do with the note she’d scribbled on the menu.

  Her decision came rushing back to her in a tidal wave of emotion, carrying with it the weight of loss and longing like so much debris. But not doubt. She’d made the right decision, she knew that now. She needed to talk with Robert, but she couldn’t here. Not in front of all these people. Not while Gilbert watched.

  She quickly turned back to Margery, but stopped at the odd sight of an object in the near distance protruding from the glass surface of the ocean. Her two companions followed her gaze and for once they both seemed to be without words.

  Margery eventually found her voice. “I daresay, that looks like a periscope.” Her expression was more outrage than surprise. “Nobody told me that this was going to happen.”

  She was still speaking when Caroline saw the insidious rippling of the water near where the periscope’s eye peered unblinkingly at the large ship, a white foamy snake slithering directly at them.

  Prunella sniffed. “That had better not be a torpedo. My husband will be most put out . . .”

  Caroline had ceased to listen. To Prunella, or the laughing children, or the screaming gulls overhead. An eerie sense of calm enveloped her, everything moving in slow motion, the sound cushioned as if packed in cotton to be examined later. She turned once more to where she’d seen Gilbert, desperately needing to find him. To assure herself that he was there, that he was safe. That he was hers and they were going to disembark in Liverpool and live the lives they’d promised each other. She took one step in the direction of where she’d seen him and then the world exploded.

  The entire ship trembled in shock, its tremendous speed suddenly halted by an invisible fist. Caroline was knocked to the ground along with most of those who’d just a moment before been standing with her on the Promenade Deck. Another blast sounded from beneath her as a geyser of black water splashed up and over the deck.

  She looked around to where she’d just seen Gilbert. Gilbert wasn’t there, but she spotted Robert and Patrick, both clutching the doorway, Patrick’s hat missing. Robert took something that looked like an oilskin pouch from an inside jacket pocket, and handed it to the steward right before the ship buckled again and Caroline was thrown several feet toward the railing. When she looked up, they were gone.

  Sound came back to her with a vociferous roar, the gentle noises of just a minute before replaced now with shrieking and wailing and crying children. She grimaced in pain as she tried to use her hands to right herself, realizing she must have hurt her wrist bracing herself when she fell. The great ship listed to one side, her skirts and shoes damp as water raced across the sloping deck to return to the unforgiving ocean.

  “Gilbert!” she called, her word mingled with the shouts of despair from her fellow passengers. She began to rise and was pushed down again by a group of people running across the deck, shouting about life belts.

  “Hurry,” someone cried nearby as Caroline finally managed to stand. “She’s sinking fast!”

  A lifeboat, filled surely beyond capacity, was slowly lowered over the side of the ship from the Boat Deck above. Then, just as it came abreast the Promenade Deck, there was a loud cry as one of the ropes slackened and then caught, tipping the boat to an alarming angle. The two crewmen aboard the lifeboat tried valiantly to right it, but their efforts were in vain as the boat continued its terrifying dip until all the occupants, some without life belts, were thrown into the frigid sea.

  Caroline might have uttered a cry of distress, but the sound was buried under the cacophony of panicking passengers and of steel bolts and wooden timbers popping and splintering like wounded animals. The deck was utter chaos and she knew there was nothing she could do for those hapless souls who’d gone overboard. She searched desperately for some sight of Gilbert, trying to determine what to do next, what Gilbert would do. People around her scrambled into their life belts, and she watched as a husband helped his pregnant wife fasten the straps of her life belt, remembering that her own vest was in her cabin.

  Yes. Surely that’s where Gilbert would have gone—to their staterooms to retrieve their life belts. He was always so logical and practical, and for the first time Caroline felt grateful. If he’d seen her on the promenade, he’d be with her now. Failing that, he would have done the next logical thing. She refused to consider any other option.

  As carefully as she could she struggled against the tide of people pouring out onto the promenade and headed into the darkened interior of the ship. Whatever the torpedo had struck had taken out the electrical system of the great ship, throwing them all into darkness. At least she was on the same floor as their stateroom, and it was near enough that she could find it in the dark. Straight in toward the lifts, turn left, past two parlor suites and then the funnel hatch on the right and their stateroom would be on the left.

  She heard a woman wailing in the darkness, calling out a man’s name. Caroline paused, unable to ignore the abject distress in the woman’s voice, and called out for the woman to come toward her, that they would at least be together. But the hysterical woman was unreachable, unwilling or unable to respond to Caroline’s offer of help. With grim determination, Caroline turned down the corridor, remembering her mother once telling her that if she ever needed saving, she shouldn’t rely on anyone else to do it for her.

  Her fingers slid along the papered walls for balance as she made her slow progress in the darkness, brief pulses of light teasing her from open doors and the exit to the Promenade Deck behind her. She pushed down rising panic as the ship shifted and moaned all around her like a giant beast slowly awakening and preparing to swallow everyone on board. It listed more and more to the side, making it difficult to walk, creating an acute awareness of the passage of time as the Lusitania slowly sank bit by bit into the great abyss of the Celtic Sea.

  Caroline nearly cried out with relief when she reached their stateroom and threw open the main door, the rooms awash in sunlight streaming carelessly through the windows as if unaware of the tragedy occurring directly beneath its rays.

  “Gilbert!” she shouted, opening up the door to his bedroom, followed by the dining room and parlor, finding them all empty. “Gilbert!” she shouted again, her voice rising, realizing
she hadn’t thought of what she’d do if he wasn’t here. And wondered if she’d miscalculated and if he was at that moment looking for her on the promenade, where she’d said she would be waiting for him.

  She heard a voice from her bedroom and felt almost weak with relief. “Gilbert!” she called and rushed to the door and threw it open. It took her a moment to register what she was seeing. “Jones?” she said, as if she needed to make sure that the woman wearing Caroline’s fox fur stole and ruby earrings, and splashing water on a prone Tess Fairweather, could actually be the same Jones who’d been her dutiful maid up until that morning. The same woman to whom she’d given the Strauss manuscript. The same woman whose name was to be telegraphed ahead so she could be arrested as a spy when she disembarked.

  The woman looked up at her, her frantic expression quickly turning to abject hatred, then returned to her attempts to revive an unconscious Tess. “Tennie, wake up! C’mon, sis, you’ve got to wake up now.”

  Sis? Caroline wondered if Robert knew. Walking toward the two women, she addressed her former maid, “I know who you are, and so does my husband. And you’re not going to get away with it.”

  Jones continued to ignore her, and instead issued sharp slaps to her sister’s cheeks, creating bright spots of red on the pale skin. Tess’s words came back to Caroline. Be careful who you trust.

  Caroline frantically glanced around the room, taking in the pile of clothes and jewelry stacked on her bed, the canvas life belt lying next to it, and then back to the figure on the floor who’d just begun to moan and to move her head from side to side. “Ginny . . .”

  Caroline kneeled next to Jones—Ginny?—and spoke firmly. “I don’t care what’s going on here—right now we need to leave. The ship is sinking and we don’t have a lot of time.” She positioned herself behind Tess’s shoulders. “You get her legs,” she said to Ginny, her anger at the betrayal and subterfuge making it difficult to meet her eyes. “We can carry her out to the deck.”