by Jina Bacarr
Why? They had plenty of time to get into a lifeboat.
It was unearthly quiet along the corridor. No one moving about. In spite of her anxiousness, Ava found a certain solace in the familiarity of things.
She wanted to place the experience in her memory forever, like pressing a fragile daisy between the pages of a book. Its brightness might fade, but not the hold it had on her heart.
Forcing her tense muscles to relax, Ava waited patiently while the countess tore through her wardrobe closet, looking for her earrings.
‘Fiona, we must go!’ Ava called out. She could hear what sounded like voices nearby. Most likely frantic passengers trying to make their way up to the Boat Deck from down below.
‘Coming, Ava.’ The countess appeared out of breath and listless. ‘I forgot I’d hidden my earrings in a silk stocking.’ She held them up, their ruby and diamond sparkle emitting a glow like a soft rainbow flame. Then she wrapped the earrings in a gray silk scarf and put them into her coat pocket. ‘I couldn’t let them go down to the bottom of the sea.’
‘Hurry, Fiona.’
Without looking back, Ava rushed quickly along the corridor and up the wide stairs leading to B Deck. She could hear Fiona’s soft footsteps behind her, then they trailed off. Her heart stopped. Where did she go? She prayed it wasn’t the lifts. If the generator stopped working, she’d be stuck in the elevator.
‘Fiona, where are you?’
‘Down here, Ava!’ the countess called out, her voice echoing from somewhere below.
Ava turned her neck to look over the railing.
She drew in her breath and a stinging made her lungs hurt. What she saw shocked her.
Four decks below at the bottom of the Grand Staircase, a swirling pool of seawater snatched up everything in its path. Dishes, chairs, lamp stands, metal ornaments with greedy intensity.
Fiona was nowhere in sight.
A painful ache shot through her hot as a fever.
‘Where are you, your ladyship?’ Ava cried out, her voice bouncing back at her. She stood under the large glass dome overhead dark with night and pricked with pinpoints of light.
Stars.
‘I’m down here, Ava! I took a wrong turn,’ she heard from the deck below.
Ava saw the countess poke her head around the bend of the landing, her face looking straight up at her. ‘I’ll be right up… oh, wait… I see someone floating in the water below.’
‘There’s no one down there!’ Ava yelled back. Debris swirled around in the water, nothing else... then again, a poor soul could be trapped down there.
‘It’s Buck, Ava… I know it is.’ She started down the staircase.
‘Holy Mother of God, can it be him?’ Ava whispered in an anguished voice, fear sending her into a different place where she didn’t want to go.
‘He’s calling to me!’
Ava listened. She heard nothing but the rushing water.
‘Hold on, Countess, I’m coming to see!’ she shouted, then she stopped when she saw Fiona gaze up into Ava’s eyes with the pain she’d kept hidden for so long.
The pain of loving Buck.
Ava winced, experiencing a moment of realization that rocked her being. That pain altered Fiona’s reality, her eyes taking on a dreamy look that whispered of deepening shadows where light should have been.
As if the countess were in a trance.
Ava lived a lifetime running down the steps. She had to reach her. Fast. She looked again and again at the swirling water, nothing but debris. His lordship wasn’t there, no matter what the countess saw in her mind.
‘Don’t look down, Fiona! Buck isn’t there.’
The countess didn’t hear her or didn’t want to. She raced down to the next deck. The Irish girl peered down, down into the circular maze of steps leading to the flooded bottom.
Round and round the water swirled.
Dear Jesus, what was she about?
Pull yourself together, girl. Go after her.
Ava took two steps at a time, the stairs creaking under her feet, the ship leaning heavily to the port side. Fire pumped through her veins.
She was almost there.
Fiona stood up on her toes and held onto the banister, craning her neck. As if she couldn’t give up looking for Buck. Her every move screamed her desperation.
‘Buck… Buck!’ she called out, frantic. Like an animal caught in a hunter’s trap.
‘He’s not there, Fiona.’
May the Lord have mercy on her, so passionate was the countess’s plea, it pierced Ava’s soul. She eased toward her on tiptoe, careful not to startle her. A wee bit more and she could grab her hand and bring Fiona back up to safety. She felt her back muscles tightening again. ‘We must hurry. Buck’s waiting for us up on deck.’
‘No, Buck’s… dead,’ whispered the countess.
Ava hesitated. She wasn’t at all sure what to do about her outburst. She always appeared so genteel and in control.
But Fiona couldn’t let Buck go. Couldn’t release him from her heart, no matter how reckless her actions became.
Ava wouldn’t allow her to suffer so.
‘Don’t tempt the devil, Countess. Him with his greedy hands wanting to take as many souls as he can on this darkest of nights.’
‘What does it matter?’ Fiona said, not looking up. ‘Everything I care about has been taken from me.’
A sharp cry emitted from Fiona’s lips.
As she reached out to grab Ava’s hand, the heel on her boot caught on her skirt and she slipped, falling to her knees and sliding down the stairs.
‘Fiona!’ Ava screamed.
‘Ava… help me!’ she cried out, looking down, a desperate edge to her voice, a rush of disbelief attacking her mind.
Ava had seconds, seconds to reach her before she slid down four flights of stairs and into the freezing cold, swirling water.
‘Hold on, Fiona, I’m coming!’
‘I – I can’t.’ The countess tried to grab Ava’s hand, but she couldn’t reach her. The wooden stair underneath her feet shifted. Frantically, she reached for the banister, thrusting her gloved fingers through the ornamental railing, slick and wet.
She couldn’t hold on.
‘Oh, sweet Jesus, no!’ Ava cried out, racing toward her. She watched in horror as the countess tried to regain her balance, her arms outstretched.
‘Ava…’ the countess forced out her name in a harsh whisper. Her eyes widened and a bone-chilling groan escaped from her lips.
‘No, Countess, no!’
Before Ava could grab her, the countess lost her balance and fell backward down the stairs, her body rolling over and over and—
She landed at the bottom in a heap, the water creeping up toward her from the deck below.
She lay still. Very still.
Ava heard a scream like she never heard before.
It was her own voice.
She’d flood hell with her tears if any harm came to this grand lady because of her.
Ava hold tight onto the banister, praying to St Michael himself she wouldn’t lose her grip as she walked sideways so as not to slip on the wet stairs, dragging the red shawl behind her, tripping over its long fringe. She ignored the howling sounds of the rushing water down below. Agony tore through her. Horrible, sad feelings she dared not let take hold of her.
Nothing was wrong with the countess, she told herself, nothing. A bump, bruise.
Nothing more.
Ava couldn’t accept such a vile punishment as to lose the countess along with Buck and Mr Brady. She prayed, promising the Almighty that every day of her life from now on would be sacred and pure if the countess was unhurt.
It was all for naught.
The countess lay sprawled on the bottom step. Not moving. Her eyes wide open, her lips parted. Her cheekbones drawn taut. She thanked the angels the water hadn’t yet reached this high on the staircase.
Ava froze. An edge of fear sliced through her, razor sharp and deadly.
> What godless trick was this?
What?
The countess isn’t dead. She can’t be. It’s not right to take so gentle a soul.
Ava lifted the countess’s head and felt a moistness caress her fingers like silk.
Blood.
She must have hit the back of her head hard. Ava swallowed the cutting pain of disbelief. Her senses reeled at the sight before her.
This can’t be happening.
Panic overtook her, a violent emotion slicing through her brain and making her cheeks hot. She pulled off the countess’s glove, then began rubbing her hand back and forth, trying to bring her back.
She couldn’t.
Finally, Ava leaned back on her heels, closed her eyes, and felt a sudden, fierce despair. So strong were her feelings for the countess, it was as if her own dear sweet mum had been dragged away by the devil himself. The pain so raw, she beat upon her chest to quell the agony. She heard the rustle of skirts rushing up behind her. A sharp intake of breath, then a groan.
Ava ignored it. She wouldn’t let go of her ladyship’s hand, her fingers stiff and cold, not even when she heard a woman’s voice utter the words she didn’t want to hear.
‘The countess is dead, miss.’
Buck held onto the two Irish girls though excruciating pain shot through every muscle in his body, his shoulders bearing the brunt of it, as if ripping from their sockets. He wouldn’t let them go. He’d promised Ava, the power of that promise fueling his strength to keep going. He didn’t resist the rushing wall of water. Instead, he used it to his advantage.
To save the girls.
Survival was something you didn’t think about, Buck knew, you just did it and thought about it afterward. He rode the wave back to the stairwell and dragged the two girls, soaking wet, up the narrow steps topside. Buck didn’t think, just moved forward, his military survival skills coming to his aid.
He was well aware for him there was no afterward, but he wouldn’t stop until these girls were safe in a lifeboat. He had to admit they never whimpered, never faltered, though Peggy was in terrible pain from her sprained ankle. They were a tough lot, these Irish girls, and admiration for their relentless spirit rose up in him. Their pride as well as their determination and loyalty was something he’d seen too little of in his upper crust world.
He hated himself for not admitting it sooner. If only he’d told Ava before he left her with the countess. He wasn’t ashamed to admit how wrong he’d been about a lot of things. About honesty and truth and integrity, and how they weren’t the exclusive property of the posh classes. If anything, he’d learned a lady wasn’t defined by birth, but by actions.
And heart.
Ava would always be his lady.
His sharp intake of breath caught him unaware and he knew he had to find her. See her again.
Survive, somehow.
Scanning the faces on the port side, he didn’t see Ava. Or the countess. Were they safe in a lifeboat on the glassy sea?
He wouldn’t rest until he knew for certain they had escaped the sinking ship.
God help them, he thought. The water was below freezing. A rescue ship was on the way, according to a ship’s officer. The Carpathia. Even at top speed, the steamer wouldn’t arrive in time.
Until then, he had his duty as a soldier and a gentleman.
He carried Peggy, with her sister following them, over to the starboard side where the boats were loading faster. The canvas covers were off the lifeboats and the masts cleared. Seamen stood at the davits and uncoiled the lines after fitting in cranks.
Finally, he had the two Irish girls in a boat, wrapped up in steamer rugs, holding onto each other tight, their young faces streaked with dried tears.
‘We owe our lives to you, Captain Lord Blackthorn,’ Peggy called out, waving to him. ‘Thank you.’ Hannah nodded, shaking her head up and down. Their eyes were filled with such deep gratitude for saving them, that Buck found their adoring looks uncomfortable.
He felt guilty because it had taken him so damn long to realize a man of his station owed allegiance not just to women of his class, but to all women.
He watched the lifeboat being lowered down to the next deck to take in more women and children, the pulleys squealing as the boat was swung out and began its slow descent. There was an excited murmur from the passengers when the lifeboat nearly landed on top of the boat below. A quick-thinking stoker in the other boat cut the rope with his knife and the lifeboat was safely lowered to the water.
Buck stood at the rail on the Boat Deck, the wind coming up, the ship listing to the port side. He slapped his arms to keep the blood flowing, then took off for A Deck.
His job was done here.
Now to find his lady.
27
All the tears Ava couldn’t shed before came now in a torrent of hopelessness.
Knowing the countess was dead struck her like she’d been slapped. Then in the next moment, a different pain made her clench her fists in anger.
Looking at the pale, still face of the countess. Her chestnut brown hair escaping from the silk scarf framing her face. The dead woman’s doe-shaped gray eyes remained transfixed on her, but she couldn’t read her last thoughts.
Somehow Ava knew they were of his lordship.
From somewhere deep in her soul, she let go with an agonizing groan. The countess was gone. If the hearts of the angels were as cold and dark as the black sea, she would lose Buck, too, before this night was over.
Sweet mercy, was this to be her fate? To lose the two people who meant so much to her?
‘Fiona,’ Ava whispered her name aloud and felt a sisterhood with her that went beyond their love of the same man. Crying like a babe she was, for this woman had been kind to her and she held no grudge against her.
‘You must save yourself, miss.’
Ava shook her head. She raged against such a thing, wouldn’t listen. She stiffened when she felt soft fingers pressing on her shoulder, urging her to look away. Finally, she turned and looked up. The woman’s eyes centered on her.
It was the stewardess, Marta Sinclair. She’d seen her earlier locking the cabins to keep out looters.
‘She wouldn’t want you to grieve.’
‘I loved her like she was my own kin,’ Ava began, not ashamed to admit her powerful feelings for the countess. ‘Her character, her strength. Her willingness to fight for what she wanted, though she was held back by what she was. A lady with elegant ways, so fine and proper. That she couldn’t fight.’ She paused, saddened by the hurt of it. ‘I admired and respected her. She was a lady, yet she spoke to me as an equal.’
‘Why don’t you let the countess help you now?’ the stewardess said, stepping back so as not to intrude further on her emotions. ‘Take her coat.’
‘What are you saying, lass?’ Ava asked quietly. She could see the stewardess was bundled up in a gray sweater and long coat.
‘She won’t need it, but you will in the lifeboat. It’s freezing cold.’
‘I can’t take it… it’s unholy.’
‘You must. I knew her ladyship but a few days, but I, too, fell under her spell. She’d want you to have it.’
‘But I already took so much from her.’ Ava bowed her head. ‘Even the man she loved.’
‘Did you, child?’
She raised her eyes. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Only a fool would be blind to the way his lordship looked at you,’ the stewardess said with certainty. ‘I noticed it that day we left Queenstown when he saw me watching the two of you. He had his eye on you then. No woman could hope to have that kind of fascination from a man, but you did. The countess saw it, too.’
Ava couldn’t help staring at her. She felt unsettled with the woman saying such things about a man who had yet to tell her he cared for her in such a manner. Mercy, it was unseemly, but oh… how she wanted to believe it.
‘Take the coat,’ the stewardess urged her.
‘Jesus Mary, I… I can’t…’
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Even in her grief, Ava was aware of a feeling that begged her to do what the woman asked.
‘You must.’ The stewardess knelt beside the countess and picked up her glove, then closed her ladyship’s eyes.
Ava watched her with such reverence, she was afraid to move.
Look at her, removing her ladyship’s lifebelt then unbuttoning her coat with her nimble fingers as only a woman used to dressing and undressing a society lady could do.
Not clumsy like her.
Within seconds, the stewardess removed the long coat from the countess’s still body then her other glove, her ladyship’s head lolling to one side like a lifeless doll. Then she smoothed out the brushed black velvet coat with her flat palms and held it out to Ava. ‘Take her coat and gloves and go. You’ll not have another chance to save yourself.’
‘No… I can’t,’ Ava protested.
‘Here!’ She tossed the coat and gloves to Ava. She caught them in spite of her misgivings. Her mind whirled around in a circle, thinking it was against all that was good and holy, yet practical if she wanted to survive.
She let go with a long shiver as she unfastened her lifebelt and put the coat on over her tweed suit, as if hands belonging to the devil himself wrapped it around her.
She left it unbuttoned as the stewardess helped her tighten the lifebelt straps.
‘How much time have we left before the end comes?’ Ava wanted to know, tossing the red lace shawl over her shoulder, then pulling on the countess’s soft gray leather gloves. A strange feeling, as if she also took on her fine manners.
‘Not long,’ said the stewardess. ‘Now hurry!’
‘I can’t leave her here… like this.’ Ava tossed her head back and forth, still not convinced. ‘It ain’t right.’
It did her soul in to see the countess abandoned and lost. She’d not leave her to be swept away by the wretched sea when the ship went down.
Again, she made her plea.
‘We can lay her down in an empty stateroom, miss,’ the stewardess said. ‘Help me carry her.’
Ava nodded, lifting her ladyship up by her ankles while the stewardess pulled her up from under the armpits. She was grateful for the respect she gave the countess, a slender woman. It was no easy task to carry her, keeping her silk dress down over her legs and holding onto her ankles with a firm grip. Even so she grunted under the strain.