“Good luck, George,” Georgiana murmured, kissing her brother-in-law’s cheek softly. George was kind, but he was soft. She could tell he was afraid, yet she did not blame him. The women-and-children-first rule was a rigid part of Edwardian society, but Georgiana found it strange that, when plenty of seats left, men were not given the option of taking them. She knew there would be problems with over-crowding, but her sister’s lifeboat had left half-full, or even less, and there had been more than one man who had sought a seat. They’d have better luck getting the women and children into the boats if they allowed the men to go with them. Don’t they realise we are afraid? That we want our men with us, for safety?
It wasn’t that anyone was afraid that the ship would sink. Of course it wouldn’t, and even if by some miracle it was sinking, it would take hours for anything truly grievous to happen; it was only early still, and while the list to port was sharp, the Titanic didn’t seem to be too far down at the bow. One of the nearby ships – and one appeared to be moving, approaching closer, though it was hard to tell – would be able to assist and aide the Titanic. Not a soul on board was in any mortal danger.
But that didn’t mean the prospect of stepping off into the abyss, into the vast, empty ocean, was appealing. It would be easier to take the leap if William was by her side, and she imagined many other women feeling the same. It was one-forty-five, and more than one woman was sobbing on the Boat Deck, arguing with an officer about refusing to leave their sons behind. Georgiana found that many of the officers were refusing entry to even boys not fully grown, though she could not fathom why. If the ship was not sinking, why would it matter any?
“Georgiana, I trust you’ll use your wits and get into a lifeboat, yes?” her father asked. He looked tired and worn, his face pinched tight in a way Georgiana had never seen; no wonder she’d forgotten his presence, even if for a moment. She imagined it was hard for him, having his wife, daughter and grandchildren in the boats below, already slipping away from the ship, impossible to distinguish from the other lifeboats, with his youngest missing, and a long wait ahead of him. She didn’t realise he’d been standing by her side; she wondered if he was discombobulated, she had not boarded. Georgiana had seldom seen her father act so; in fact, she was sure and certain she could not recall a single instance where he had behaved in such a manner.
It was for this reason Georgiana broke the promise she made with her mother.
“Of course, Papa.” Her voice betrayed her, shaking slightly.
“Promise me, Georgiana,” he said, grasping her shoulders and shaking her slightly. Her father’s brusque reaction shocked her. “I don’t care what you promised your mother, you hear me? I’m asking you to obey my command, and your husband’s. I’m asking you to do this without question, without excuse. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Papa,” Georgiana replied, her voice quiet. It wasn’t the usual lashing she’d grown accustomed to, but still, it cut her like she was five years old again.
“Promise me, Georgie. Promise me you’ll abandon this nonsense; Celia will be found, I swear it. But the most important thing you can do right now for me, for Henry, is to board the next lifeboat. That way, we only must focus on Celia’s safety. With you here, we cannot focus on saving her. Our attentions are focused on you, instead of where they should be. So, bearing that in mind, I need you to give me your solemn vow; you will board the next lifeboat.”
“I promise,” Georgiana replied, tears feeling her eyes. She had never heard Albert speak with anything other than a stiff upper lip; he was the very definition of an Edwardian gentleman, never revealing his feelings (unless, of course, they were those of anger, or if it suited him). Panic lunged at her heart; the night air had changed, with more passengers becoming forceful, aggressive; gun shots occasionally rang out in the night air. “I swear it, Papa.”
Albert closed his eyes, murmuring, as if saying a silent prayer. Georgiana wondered why a man, never driven by faith, would be praying to God. “Good. I’m going to look for Andrews or Captain Smith, so I can get a better handle on what is happening, but then I’m going to look for your sister. I don’t care where she is, so long as she is safe. Do you know where she is, Georgie?”
Georgiana hesitated. Father is scared now, but by morning, this will all be a tasteless joke. He will not forget where I think Cecilia might be, regardless of if she is there or not.
“I don’t know, Papa,” Georgiana replied, hoping he bought her lie, though she doubted he would if he had heard their conversation. Judging by the sunken look in her father’s face, he had, though Georgiana found it surprising he wasn’t eager to correct her. “I think she must have heard or saw something we did not. I think she has gotten lost in the mass of people. People are spreading out everywhere now. It’s no longer orderly, especially with all the men fighting for a seat.” That was true enough; a burst of steerage passengers having appeared earlier, and they were far more interested in finding a raft than many of the first and second passengers. A few of the men had thrown themselves down the ropes into the boats, and she would occasionally hear the shrieks of women and children who had been hurt by their brutality.
Italians.
No real gentleman would risk a woman or child’s life so callously.
Albert gave his daughter a queer look, and Georgiana thought he might question her further, but he did not. To Georgiana’s surprise, he kissed her forehead. “Remember what you vowed,” he said firmly. “I am leaving you because of your promise. I’m searching for my other daughter, not abandoning you. And you vowed to get into the lifeboat. I expect you to keep your vow, Georgie. I love you, my darling girl.”
“I love you, too, Daddy,” whispered Georgiana, startled by her father’s sudden emotive burst. He moved quickly into the crowd, disappearing as George once had, leaving William and Georgiana alone on the Boat Deck.
“Why didn’t you get in, Georgie?” William protested again. “It’s not safe up here. The officers keep brandishing their guns – Litghtoller’s fired his more than once. Panic is making a fool of men. The deck is already looking bare; I’m not sure how many lifeboats there are.”
“You worry for nothing, William. Anyway, I stayed because I had to. I know what you do not.”
“What, Georgie?” William asked, raking his hand through his brown hair. “What could you possibly know that I don’t? I’m sure and certain I know where Celia is. Her mystery is no one’s surprise.”
“Because I know which cabin is Henry’s,” Georgiana retorted. “Do you?”
William’s mouth opened and repeatedly shut before he frowned. “No, but I could ask the purser –”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but they closed the Purser’s Office a while ago. McElroy’s on deck, here, with us, assisting passengers. He’s over there, by Mr Ismay’s side.”
William looked around in surprise, spying the two men. William had sent more than one gram, delighted by the new technology. He hadn’t been alone; Georgiana knew her parents had said more than one Marconi gram. She hadn’t, because she felt it pointless. Everyone who knew her knew she was travelling aboard the Titanic; there was little to update anyone on. She would likely send one after they arrived in New York, but that wouldn’t require the ship’s Marconi services. “I didn’t realise.”
“I didn’t think so. Which means that the only person who knows where Celia is, is me.”
“Fine. Tell me where she is, and then get on a lifeboat.” Georgiana glanced around; for the first time, she realised, there weren’t many lifeboats left. There were empty davits, swinging aimlessly in the bitter wind, and she frowned. She knew the ship wouldn’t likely have lifeboats for all passengers and crew – why would it, when ships these days were incapable of sinking? – but she had not expected them to be launched so quickly. Perhaps, when she had seen how few had been filled, she assumed there were plenty more.
William appeared to read Georgiana’s mind. “They’re preparing Lifeboat Two for launch. Pleas
e, Georgie.”
“I’m not leaving the ship without setting eyes on my baby sister.”
“Georgiana –”
“I refuse, William. I won’t abandon her.”
“You vowed. Not just to me, but to your father. You swore it.”
Georgiana bit her lip; she couldn’t feel it, though she couldn’t feel anything on her face, not really. It felt as if it had been lashed raw, and she fought the desire to touch her face, to see if it would be numb to the touch. She rubbed her hands together, cursing her naivety about this situation ending so early. William had been right about that, at least. She knew William was right, but he was also asking her to abandon her little sister. She did not think she could forgive herself is she chose to leave the ship without at least trying to search for her.
“And I’ll keep my vow. I’ll get into a lifeboat once I find Celia.”
“Fine. But as soon as she’s found, you will both be in that lifeboat. And if anything changes, I’ll force you in myself.” William looked as if he meant it, though Georgiana had never known William to resort to any kind of violence. He didn’t even talk of war, the way so many men his age did. He felt war a farce, where the rich and noble were promoted to lieutenants, captains and generals based on their heritage, not on their skill. Those men, who rarely had military experience, sent younger men into battle, promising them glory, when in reality, most returned bitter and broken.
“Okay,” Georgiana agreed, as she kissed William desperately, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. She wanted to cling to him, to feel safe always. William’s presence had a way of making her entire world stop. As she closed her eyes, she no longer heard the screams and shouts of the more rowdy passengers, the yells from the officers, trying to prepare the lifeboats, and Mr Andrews, who was currently ripping as many deck chairs as he could from the Boat Deck, thinking only of William, and his cigar-whiskey scent that laced through him, merged with his aftershave. After a moment, the lovers pulled apart, breathless.
“So where is she?” William panted.
“Henry’s cabin. D-5.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Monday, April 15th, 1912
Albert
Albert motioned to his valet, Bohee, moving away from Georgiana. He had seen the lie in her eyes, especially when she made sure and certain her eyes did not always meet his. Even if he hadn’t, it had been impossible not to overhear her fight with William, even with all the commotion that was beginning to surround them on deck.
Albert did not blame Georgiana for her lie; he blamed himself.
It wasn’t a feeling Albert was particularly used to, and his mouth tasted of ash, his stomach filled with soot, as he thought on what he’d learnt from Ismay, though he kept the man’s promise.
Albert had been one of the men in the Smoking Room crashing through the revolving door, desperate to catch a glimpse of the iceberg that had hit the ship. He’d laughed and watched as other men – Americans, mostly – placed ice in their scotches, and lit another cigar.
At first, he hadn’t considered it to be a problem. Then, he’d noticed Ismay traversing the halls in his silk pyjamas, an act unseemly in and of itself, before he realised he wasn’t behaving as a man befitting of his status. He’d questioned Ismay, quietly, and Ismay relented. “The ship will sink, or that’s Andrews’s word,” Ismay had told him. “It won’t last more than a few hours, at most. I am sorry, Lord Gresham. I instruct you to find seats for your family in an available lifeboat before it’s too late.” Ismay had been unable to meet Albert’s eyes. If it hadn’t been for the man’s obvious shame, Albert would have laughed, thinking it a buffoonery, but Ismay had no laughter in his face. Albert knew the man wasn’t being hyperbolic, nor was he making light of the situation.
Ismay was telling him the ship was doomed, and there wasn’t a damn thing anyone could do to prevent it.
Albert didn’t need Ismay to elaborate on his despair; ocean liners never sailed with full lifeboat capacity. It wasn’t necessary; there had never been a serious calamity at sea before now.
It meant that, unless they were rescued by another passing liner – a notion Albert had long last faith in; the ship was too far gone now. Even if a ship arrived by Titanic’s side, there would be no way to save everyone, and anyone who met the ocean would die painfully – half the passengers would perish, Albert among them.
It wasn’t that Albert wasn’t afraid of dying.
He was petrified. He did not wish to die. Albert had not given much thought to his mortality, which seemed foolish in retrospect, but if he had, he would not have thought he would die in the freezing oceans of the North Atlantic after the world’s largest ocean liner struck an iceberg.
But right now, he was more afraid of his daughters dying than he was for himself; Cecilia, he knew, had fled because Albert had behaved like a petulant child.
He frowned. Why had he been so invested in the Vanderbilt alliance? After he’d learnt that J.P Morgan’s fortune affected the American dollar, he had known it was essential, no matter how he despised new money, to invest in a wealthy American family. At the time, it had seemed as if Cecilia’s marriage would provide the stability the estate required, especially being the wife of a Vanderbilt, yet now all Albert could think on was the anguish and devastation he had inflicted upon his family. The marriage would bring much needed money to the Gresham Estate, securing a future for George and Master Albert that seemed tangible otherwise, but now he wondered if securing the Estate’s future was worth his daughter’s happiness.
At the time, he had been sure and certain that he was making the best decision for his family, and for Cecilia’s future. Albert was certain that Cecilia had been defying him purposefully, determined to humiliate him as punishment. Now, he felt a fool; he had not seen her daughter’s true affections, even when everyone else had.
Worse still, her melancholy was the reason she hadn’t been present on the Boat Deck. Despite what he had told his wife, Albert knew Cecilia had likely not gotten onto an earlier lifeboat. Even angry, she would not leave her family in the lurch; it was not Celia’s way. While he’d been surprised by Cecilia’s recent defiance, his youngest daughter was his kindest. She had a sweet nature that surpassed everyone he knew. He was unaware of anyone who was as kind-hearted as Celia.
He knew she was with Henry.
Albert also knew that his other daughter, Georgie, was too afraid to confide in him about Celia’s whereabouts because of his wrath. Albert did not dare tell Georgiana of the danger she faced; she had made him promise, and if there was one thing he could take sure and certain about Georgiana was that she was a woman of her word. She, unlike Eliana, did not make promises she could not keep. It wasn’t that Eliana deliberately broke her word; her moods had made her unstable. At times, she did not seem able to recall what she’d said.
Albert, with Bohee in tow, walking exactly three steps behind him, walked back to the Smoking Room, where a few men where dining with cards, cigars and whiskey; some seemed unbothered by the night’s events, assuming everything would resume orderly conduct; others seemingly accepting their fate, declaring that they would go out on ‘brandy and cigars’, which was the best way they knew how. Albert could not help but wonder how many men, regardless of the exterior they were showing the world, were as scared as he was.
In a way, he hoped so. He hoped he wasn’t the only man afraid of death, even if he meant to meet his end as dignified as possible. Albert hoped his courage would not fault him. It had not deserted him during the First Boer War, earning the Queen’s Medal for his service and valour.
Yet, this was somehow different. During war, he had a mission; he knew what was expected of him. Albert knew if he did nothing, he would certainly die, killed by the enemy. On the ship, there was no way to survive, no battle he could fight.
He wondered how many men would break their promises to themselves when the icy water raced to meet them. Could they really, truly, not be afraid of meeting their deaths?
>
Albert knew how quickly icy water could claim a person’s life.
Albert’s older brother had fallen through the ice one early spring; he’d never fully recovered, and had died three years later, at thirteen, making Albert the heir-apparent instead of presumptive. As Albert had been with his brother – they’d been trying to play hockey on the small pond – he’d helped pull him out of the water. It hadn’t been an easy feat, and as soon as Albert had wetted his hands reaching for his brother, he had all but screamed, as if he’d been burnt.
The water they were facing was likely even colder than it had been all those years ago.
“Cognac, neat,” Albert ordered, before turning to Bohee. “You?” Bohee shook his head silently, and Albert sighed. “Two, please. Make his a double.”
Albert found his way to a couch near the room’s fireplace – the Smoking Room was the only room on the Titanic that had a fireplace not powered by electricity – hoping that, with his disappearance, Cecilia would feel free and able to return to the Boat Deck.
He hadn’t left because he hadn’t cared. He would have preferred to force Georgiana in a lifeboat, and the same with Cecilia, once she showed.
The Light in the Darkness 2 Page 15