Queen of the Waves

by Janice Thompson

  “Edith Russell.” Mother fussed with her necklace as if nervous. “She’s a fashion writer.”

  “Oh, a fashion writer? Truly?” Jacquie swung around to give the woman a closer look. “My friend—er, lady’s maid—will be thrilled with this bit of news. She’s something of a fashion expert herself.”

  “Your lady’s maid, a fashion expert?” Nathan’s mother pursed her lips. “Unusual. Well, I daresay Edith is a story in and of herself. I heard one of the stewards talking about her just before the tenders arrived with passengers from Cherbourg. That’s where she boarded, you see.”

  “Ah.” Nathan tried to act interested but found it difficult. If not for the curiosity in Jacquie’s eyes, he would tune out the rest of the conversation.

  “Yes, I hear she’s taken possession of a cabin on A Deck but has also acquired a second on E Deck to house her clothes.” Mother leaned forward and whispered, “She’s brought nineteen trunks aboard. Can you even imagine? All filled with clothes, no less.”

  “I read somewhere that she’s got a successful buying-and-consulting service in France,” Mr. Weir said. “Perhaps that has something to do with it.” He reached for his water glass and took a sip then dabbed at his lips with the cloth napkin.

  “Yes, and she’s coming out with her own line for Lord & Taylor in New York.” Mother squared her shoulders and gave the woman an admiring glance. “It’s to be called Elrose.”

  “I sense a shopping spree in your future, my dear.” James Carson reached over and patted Nathan’s mother on the hand. “That should bring a smile to your face.”

  A cold chill settled over Nathan as he watched the exchange. He was unsure which bothered him more—James touching his mother’s hand, or the fact that he had referred to her as “my dear.”

  “I can’t wait to tell Iris,” Jacquie said. “She will be so excited.”

  Nathan watched as his mother’s eyes narrowed into slits. Mr. Brayton lit into another discussion about cards, and by the time they finished dessert, the older fellow had worked himself up into a lather about the idea. He rose and tossed his napkin on the table. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I plan to spend the night in a poker game once this grand meal is behind us. Any brave souls want to join me?” He took another swig from his glass.

  “I don’t believe so, sir.” Nathan took a sip of his water and leaned back in the chair. “But thank you for the offer.” He glanced Jacquie’s way. “I had hoped to take a walk around the Boat Deck. I hear the moon is nice tonight.”

  “Sounds lovely.” Her eyelashes fluttered in a soft, appealing way. Not like the giggly girls who had sashayed past him earlier in the day, but with more of an innocent air.

  He offered a smile. “Perhaps you would consider joining me?”

  “Don’t be silly, Nathan,” his mother said as she folded her napkin and placed it on the table next to her White Star Line coffee cup. “Miss Abingdon has already told you that she has a sore throat. The night air would only make things worse.”

  “Yes, you really must take care of yourself, Miss Abingdon.” Mr. Brayton gave her a compassionate look. “I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you. Your father would have my head.”

  Jacquie paled. “I do suppose it makes more sense to go back to my room. I’m awfully tired.”

  “Can I walk you to your room?” Nathan asked, not quite ready for the evening to end.

  “I suppose.” She offered him a shy smile. “I’m on B Deck.”

  This started a new conversation about the various cabins, but Nathan wasn’t interested in any of that. He simply wanted to offer his arm to this vision of loveliness.

  And so he did. As she rose, he extended his arm in gentlemanly fashion and she took it then nodded to the group.

  “Thank you for including me in your little dinner party. I apologize for not joining in the conversation more. Perhaps I will recover shortly.” She gestured to her throat.

  “I hope you feel better in the morning, my dear.” Mr. Brayton nodded in her direction. “Until then, get some rest.” He muttered something about the color of her eyes, but Nathan didn’t hear all of it.

  The waiter appeared with the fox stole, which she slipped into place. That done, she turned to gaze at the fashion editor seated at the table behind them. In doing so, she somehow got herself caught in the hem of the green satin skirt and nearly took a tumble.

  “Oh my.” Jacquie managed to get control of herself before falling, and her cheeks flushed pink. A couple of the ladies at a nearby table whispered to one another, their words loud enough to be heard above the chatter in the dining room. Their critique of Jacquie’s near-fall angered Nathan.

  Apparently it upset the fashion designer too. Edith Russell gave Jacquie a warm smile and then offered her thoughts on the matter. “My only complaint about first class thus far is that it feels rather stiff and cold. No coziness to it at all.”

  “Indeed.” Jacquie giggled then turned back to face Nathan, who gave her a nod. He offered her his arm again and she took it.

  Across the table, Mother cleared her throat, and James Carson rose to help her with her chair. Nathan took advantage of the opportunity to usher Jacquie out of the room, away from the stares and whispers of those nearby.

  Heads held high, they strolled out of the dining saloon. Unfortunately, Mr. Brayton followed close behind, still talking at length about the time he’d visited Jacquie’s home in London. For whatever reason, this appeared to upset her. Nathan could feel her hand trembling.

  The fellow leaned a bit too close to Jacquie, to Nathan’s way of thinking. He could read the discomfort on her face and wondered if he should intervene in some way.

  Nathan felt his temper rise up within him as he watched the exchange. This fellow had no business pressing his attentions on Jacquie in such a way. The need to protect her washed over him.

  When Mr. Brayton turned off at the hallway, headed to the smoking room, Nathan gazed at Jacquie and did his best to think through his words before speaking them aloud.

  “Jacquie, I hope you will forgive me if what I’m about to say is out of line.”

  “Out of line?” Her brow wrinkled. “How could anything you say be out of line? You’re a perfect gentleman.”

  “Thank you.” He allowed the compliment to sink in before continuing. “But I have some concerns and hope you will allow me to voice them.”

  “Please do.”

  “You are traveling alone, with no father or brother to watch over you.” He spoke the words tentatively and almost wished he could take them back when tears sprang to her eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to broach a sensitive subject. Rather, I had hoped to offer my services. If you have any need for—well, for help. For…” He hesitated, biting back the word protection.

  “I see.” Her gaze met his. “You want to be a big brother, of sorts?”

  “Well—” He hadn’t exactly thought of the word brother, but if it brought her some comfort, why not? “I suppose you could say that. I just want you to know that I’m here, should you need me. There are certain men about, men who have no concern for a young lady’s welfare. If they see you on my arm, they will be less likely to bother you.”

  “Oh, I see.” Her smile captivated him. “So you are offering me your arm, then.”

  Was that a look of interest in her eyes?

  “I would like to be of service, yes,” he responded.

  “Might I remind you that I am not traveling alone, as you presume? My friend Iris is with me.”

  “Your lady’s maid, you mean?”

  “She is far more than that. We have been close”—Jacquie appeared to stumble over the word—“for some time now.”

  “Then I shall offer my services to Iris as well.”

  This garnered another smile from Jacquie, which settled the issue in his mind. He led the way beyond the reception area and toward the elevators. Once they arrived in front of the golden doors, he pressed the button and made small ta
lk while waiting. When the doors opened, Jacquie glanced his way, her eyes wide.

  “We–we’re going to get inside this box?”

  “Box?” Nathan raked his hands through his hair. “You mean the elevator?”

  “Oh, yes.” She drew her hand to her mouth as if embarrassed and then quickly pulled it away. “Elevator. Of course.”

  Several people flooded out, leaving it empty. He reached to hold the door open. “Well, sure we get inside. How else are we going to go to B Deck?”

  “I presumed we would take the stairs, but if you insist…” Jacquie appeared to hesitate as she stepped onto the lift.

  Nathan instructed the elevator attendant to stop at the B Deck then glanced her way. “If you’re not feeling well, the stairs will tax you. For that reason, I thought the elevator might be best.”

  She gave his arm a little squeeze. “You are so kind to think of me.”

  “Of course.”

  Once inside, fellow passengers joined them, pressing in around them. After a few seconds Nathan could barely find Jacquie in the crowd. He did hear a gasp, followed by a giggle, as the elevator began to lift. Where had this girl been hiding? He couldn’t quite figure her out. She wore the dress of a fine British young lady but talked about stealing apples and playing with sheepdogs, and she knew nothing of elevators? How could this be?

  Perhaps she was, as Mother liked to call it, “new money.” Far too new for any snobbery. Well, so be it. Aristocratic snobbery was far too highly rated, to his way of thinking. He preferred this sort of wide-eyed innocence. It looked nice on Jacquie.

  In fact, everything looked nice on Jacquie. As she moved toward him, his gaze swept the length of her chestnut hair and then landed on her beautiful eyes, that greenish-blue mix she had spoken of. They twinkled with merriment as the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. She stepped out of it, her wide-eyed wonder almost causing him to chuckle aloud. He didn’t do so for fear of offending her. Still, she captivated him on every level.

  Nathan’s thoughts shifted to the young woman from the opera. Was she still onboard Titanic? Were those haunting blue eyes still singing their soulful refrain? Of course, she was off-limits. He knew that. Still, something about those eyes captivated him even now.

  As he turned his gaze to Jacquie Abingdon’s smiling face, all memories of the elusive woman in blue slipped away, like the evening breeze lifting his cares and sending them adrift across the mighty Atlantic. Why dream about heaven when one had already passed through the pearly gates?

  Wednesday Evening, April 10, 1912

  Cabin B-54

  Iris ate a quiet dinner in her cabin and toyed with the idea of taking a walk around the Boat Deck. She longed to look up at the stars, to be swept away by their beauty, to feel the wind in her hair. And to think. Yes, with so many things on her mind, she needed time to come to grips with them. Though she tried to lay down her frustrations with both Jacquie and Tessa, she could not. Just about the time she thought she couldn’t bear the idea of traveling across the Atlantic, feelings of excitement crept up. Am I really going to America? Starting my life over? Hope took root in her very soul.

  Yes, a walk was definitely in order.

  She reached for her jacket and draped it over her shoulders then opened the door leading to the hallway. She took a few tentative steps outside, unsure which way to go. Just as she rounded the corner, Tessa came into view. She walked with a handsome young man, about their same age, who gushed over her. At once, envy rose up inside of Iris. Of course a handsome fella like this would look at Tessa all dolled up in Jacquie’s expensive gown and hat. What fella in his right mind wouldn’t fancy a girl with money? She forced the feeling aside, determined to focus on anything but that.

  As they passed by, Tessa glanced her way, and her eyes widened. “Iris?”

  “I’m going for a walk, Miss Jacquie.” Iris had to force the words but managed, in spite of the lump in her throat. “I do hope that’s all right with you.”

  “Well, of course.” Tessa pulled her arm from the young man’s and took a couple of steps toward her, that crazy fox stole slipping around her neck in precarious fashion. “I don’t like the idea of you going alone, though. Would you like me to come with you? I have so much to tell you. You’re simply not going to believe who’s just come onboard. A fashion editor. And she offered encouraging words just now when I tripped in the dining room.”

  This certainly piqued Iris’s interest, but she tried not to let it show. Strolling the deck by herself would be preferable right now. “Thank you for the offer, but I would rather go alone. I need some fresh air.” She felt the sting of tears in her eyes but willed them away. She would not cry again. Why bother?

  The young man with Tessa gave her a nod. “You must be Iris.”

  “Yes.”

  He extended his hand. “Nathan Patterson. I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you. I can tell that you are a good friend to Jacquie.”

  “You have?” She stumbled over the words. “I mean, I am. We’re very good friends. Indeed.”

  A few seconds later a little boy ran by, nearly knocking them down. The young man with Tessa chuckled as he put his hand up to caution the youngster. “Whoa there, fella.”

  “Sorry.” The boy gave them a sheepish look then took off running again toward some unknown destination.

  “Such a little charmer, that one,” Tessa said as she followed the youngster with her gaze.

  “Hardly.” Iris cleared her throat and then fussed with her jacket. “And what is a child of that age doing up this late in the evening, anyway? He should be in bed by now.”

  “Speaking of which, it’s high time you got some rest, as well,” the young man said as he gave Tessa a compassionate look. “I’m so sorry you’re not feeling well. I do hope tomorrow will be better.”

  Tessa’s hand fluttered to her throat. “Oh, I’m sure it will be.”

  No doubt. Iris did her best not to roll her eyes.

  The handsome stranger bid them both good night and headed off down the hall toward the staircase. Iris went that way too, turning back only long enough to assure Tessa that she could manage on her own.

  Really, she had a lot to think about. Rich folks—even handsome ones, like the stranger on Tessa’s arm tonight—were as crazy as loons at times. They cared more about their money and possessions than the lives of the people they came in contact with. Not that she cared to judge the young man. He seemed kind enough.

  Besides, right now she had other things to think about—her future in New York, for instance. And if what Tessa had said was true, a certain fashion designer onboard might be just the connection Iris needed to begin her new career.

  Wednesday, April 10, 1912

  Willingham Hotel, Southampton, England

  Jacquie settled into her room at the Willingham in Southampton. The simplistic style did not offer the luxury she was accustomed to, and it in no way compared to the room she might have been sleeping in tonight, had she stayed onboard the Titanic. Still, she found it to be clean and respectable. Best of all, it offered her the privacy she needed to sort things out in her mind. Tomorrow morning, Peter would come for a visit and they would put together a plan. Until then, she had a lot to think about.

  After eating a late dinner, which the bellman was kind enough to deliver to her room, Jacquie settled into the bed. When she closed her eyes, she felt the gentle movement of the ship and almost thought herself still aboard the Titanic. She dreamed the most terrifying dream—caught onboard the ship, she found herself drifting from Peter. He stood at the dock, growing farther and farther away. Jacquie cried out, but the ship continued to pull her from the one she loved.

  Desperate to get back to him, she stood at the railing of the ship and gave thought to jumping overboard. Perhaps she could swim back to shore and land safely in his arms.

  The dream ended in a haze of tears and perspiration. Her eyes opened to the darkness of the room, and she steadied her breathing, reali
zing she had not traveled anywhere at all.

  Still, she felt as if she’d somehow left her heart at sea, thousands of miles away from Peter and all she held dear. Terrified at the prospect of losing him, Jacquie pulled her knees to her chest and wept. The tears flowed with great force. In those moments, she grieved so many things—the loss of her home, her family. The guilt over putting Tessa—sweet, unselfish Tessa— on a ship bound for an unknown world. Agony over losing her good friend, Iris.

  In that moment, as the emotions washed over her, Jacquie found herself calling out to the only One who could make sense of it. With her heart in her throat, she began to pray to the God of heaven, the only One who could heal her heart and make sense of the chaos she had created with this impulsive decision of hers. Surely He would see fit to forgive her and make all things right again.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Thursday Morning, April 11, 1912

  Aboard the Titanic, on the Boat Deck

  The morning of April 11 dawned cool and cloudy. After a leisurely breakfast in her cabin, Tessa decided to venture up to the Boat Deck for a walk. She managed to talk Iris into joining her, though a bit of arm wrestling had to take place first. Together they strolled the deck, Tessa attempting to make conversation with the young woman who seemed bent on staying cold and distant.

  Beneath their feet, the steady hum of Titanic’s engines brought a comforting whir. The ship breezed her way across the rolling waves, which seemed content to bow to her greatness. Off in the distance, hints of sunlight peeked through the clouds. Tessa found herself captivated by it all—the color of the water as it met the sky off on the horizon. The soothing lull of the ship as it pulled its way through the water. The crisp air over the Atlantic. All of it swirled together to create an exhilarating experience unlike anything she had ever dreamed.

  Still, one thing perplexed her. Iris. When would the stubborn girl come around? Would the coldness never end?