Alexander bows, his blue eyes twinkling. “How is it that you are all alone this evening, Miss Mather?”
“I’m meeting someone,” I say, although I’m not sure why since I can’t remember who it is.
“Would that someone mind if I borrowed you for a stroll?”
I scan the people at the bottom of the staircase again, where Uncle Harry, Mr. Stead, and Alexander’s father still argue.
Alexander smiles. “They won’t even notice if you and I wander off. They have been at it all night. Holed up in the smoking room, where the women will not reprimand them.” He laughs. “Next they will be betting how many portholes there are.”
“Do you want to go outside?” I look up at the railing above us. “I would love to get…”
Bruce Ismay approaches the balcony and leans over it, scanning the people below. By his side is someone who looks familiar. He wears a butler’s uniform and is strangely unshaven. Young, maybe early twenties. How do I know him?
The unshaven man and I make eye contact, and my heart beats a little faster. Why am I nervous? Everything is wonderful. He looks from me to Alexander. He says something to Ismay, and they turn around and walk away.
“Wait,” I say. I lift my dress in one hand and run up the stairs.
When I reach the higher landing, they’re gone.
Alexander rushes up the stairs behind me. “What happened? Are you well?”
“I know that man,” I say, not sure how to explain the odd feeling that I need to talk to him.
I walk to the nearest door and open it. It leads out onto the boat deck. The air is only lightly chilled, and there’s a warm breeze. The water laps in the distance. No Ismay. No unshaven butler.
Alexander steps in front of me. “I must insist that you tell me what is going on here. You are acting as if something is wrong, of which I can see no cause.”
I look at him. “You’re right. I don’t know why I did that. I just felt this strange urge to talk to that man.”
“I am that boring, eh?”
I smile at him. “You’re not boring at all and you know it. How many other passengers bribed their way onto the ship to get away from their horrible aunts?”
“Well, when you say it like that…” He grins. “So, Miss Mather. Shall we take that stroll? Or would you like to continue to chase unknown men around the ship?”
I laugh. “You make me sound like a lunatic.”
“Your words, not mine.”
I push him playfully. “I do want to take that stroll, but…You know Bruce Ismay, right?”
He laughs loudly. “Of course. Everyone does. You want to stroll with Bruce Ismay?”
“Obviously not. I just want to talk to him or, well, someone he’s with. Do you know where he’d be?”
“Most likely the lounge or smoking room. Unless he retired for the evening.” Alexander sighs. “Come, I will take you to look for him. But if he is not there, you owe me not one stroll, but two.”
I smile. “Agreed.”
He offers me his arm and I take it.
A crew butler opens the lounge door for us and we walk inside. I scan the happy socializing people.
“There, Samantha,” Alexander says, and nods toward a group near the large fireplace. Aunt Myra, Mrs. Brown, and someone I’m pretty sure is the Countess of Rothes sit on plush couches. Standing by their table are Bruce Ismay and the unshaven butler.
I stop short. Seeing them with my aunt feels wrong, uncomfortable.
Alexander stops with me. “Now that we have found him, you look positively glum.”
“I don’t know. I just have this bad feeling.”
He squeezes my hand. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you while I am here.”
I nod at him and start walking again. Why am I acting so strangely? Alexander probably thinks I’m neurotic.
Aunty Myra spots me and waves me over. “Samantha, come join us. Mr. Ismay was just telling us some fascinating facts about this ship.”
I approach the group with Alexander at my side. “Oh?”
Aunty Myra smiles.
Alexander bows to them. “Ladies. Ismay.”
Ismay wears a smug grin. “If you lovely ladies are interested, I can surely convince Captain Smith to give us a tour of the bridge. I saw him not twenty minutes ago in the smoking room.”
I look from him to his unshaven butler. What’s going on here? He’s taking them on a tour? I don’t want him to. I really don’t want my aunt going anywhere with that butler. I can’t even pinpoint why. It’s just an instinct, a powerful one.
“This very moment?” asks the Countess of Rothes.
“I always say there is no time like the here and now.” Ismay sounds like he’s showing off.
Mrs. Brown puts down her sherry. “Why not? It might be good fun.”
“No.” My voice is too loud and too fast. They all turn to look at me.
Alexander steps forward. “I think what Samantha is trying to say is that it is late.”
My aunt smiles. “You are both sweet to worry, but really, a little exploring never hurt anyone. Besides, we will get a good view of the stars.”
“Excellent,” Ismay encourages.
My aunt, Mrs. Brown, and the Countess of Rothes all stand.
Anxiety rises in my chest. No, no, no. I push Ismay with both hands. “You will not be taking my aunt anywhere, especially not with him!” I point at the butler.
The women gasp.
Ismay brushes off his suit where I pushed him and frowns. “Miss Mather, I cannot imagine what I have done to upset you so. I was just offering to show them the bridge because they expressed interest in how the ship runs.”
“Samantha, that was unquestionably rude,” my aunt says. “You owe Mr. Ismay an apology.”
I look at their shocked faces, and embarrassment flames my cheeks. I don’t have a reason—nothing other than a feeling. They were all having a nice night, and I came along and caused a scene. There’s something seriously wrong with me. “I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Ismay. I don’t know what came over me.”
“It is my fault,” Alexander says quickly, and everyone shifts their focus to him. “You see, we were reading a book earlier with a scene quite like this one. A comedy, you know. And we were laughing about what it would be like if people actually did things like that in proper society. I said that if I ever met a girl with that much nerve, I wouldn’t waste a second. I would propose to her then and there.”
Did I just hear him correctly? My already-red cheeks deepen their blush.
The women’s shocked faces soften. The angry group is suddenly alive with oohing and aahing.
“How romantic,” says the Countess of Rothes.
Aunty Myra brings her hand up to her mouth. “Of all the curious surprises. And to shock us all like that.”
“The creativity of the young,” Mrs. Brown says.
I look anywhere but at Alexander. Did he just propose? Or did he just save me from my worst social blunder ever?
Alexander laughs. “You will have to forgive us for the abrupt exit, but I would like to speak to Samantha alone—with your permission, Mrs. Harper.”
“Of course!” she says.
“Follow me,” he whispers in my ear.
Alexander unlocks a cabin door.
“You want to talk in your bedroom?” I ask, my voice somewhere between excitement and fear.
He turns to me, slightly startled. “It is a suite, the largest on the ship, with a sitting room and a private promenade. I would never presume to take you into my bedroom. But if you are uncomfortable, we can surely go somewhere else. I just thought a private moment might be nice.”
“Of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…I guess I’m just nervous.”
He opens the door. “Nervous good or nervous bad?”
I step into a beautiful sitting room with elaborate dark wood paneling, a fireplace, and a plush seating area. “That depends on what you say next.”
He smiles at me with his
clear blue eyes, and my stomach drops. He gestures toward the couch. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
“Sherry would be lovely,” I say as I take a seat. I’m not entirely sure why I said that. Do I even like sherry?
Alexander walks over to a set of crystal decanters and pours a reddish brown liquid into a crystal glass. He hands it to me and takes a seat next to me on the couch.
“What did you want to talk about?” I sip my drink; it’s sweet and strong and tastes slightly of cherries.
“What do you want, Samantha?”
“Want?”
“In the whole world, I mean. If you could have anything, what would it be?”
I meet his eyes. It’s a strange question, but somehow it feels relevant right now, like I was just thinking about this very topic. “Well, I would like for things to be less complicated…simple and happy. Yes, I want to be happy. But I think that’s what everyone wants.”
“Do you think you could be happy with me?”
I sip my sherry. “What you said in the lounge. The story you told them. Why did you say it?”
“To get you out of your situation, of course.”
“Oh.” My chest deflates, like when you make eye contact with someone and then realize they’re actually looking at the person behind you. “You embarrassed me in front of my aunt and Mrs. Brown. They all thought…”
He grins. “No. You embarrassed yourself in front of those women. I saved you.”
I stand up, more humiliated than I’ve ever been. “Thank you for the sherry. I have to go.”
He stands up, too, blocking my exit to the door. “You said I was too young to get married.”
“I know what I said.”
“And you are younger than I.”
“Also known by me.” I put my sherry on the mantel and push past him.
He grabs my hand. “But maybe we are not too young.”
“What?” I turn to look at him.
“Maybe there is a reason that I left my aunt’s, that I didn’t like any of the girls she introduced me to. That I am on the Titanic and so are you.”
My heart pounds, and I wonder if he can feel it through my hand. “Are you saying you want to marry me?”
“Would you say yes if I am?”
I warm from his words, from the pull of them. “Yes,” I breathe.
He places my hand on his chest and wraps his arms around my waist. He looks down at me. “Then I am asking.”
My body presses into his. “And I am accepting.”
He leans his head down and gently places his lips on mine. They’re warm and strong.
He releases his hands from my waist. “I have something for you.”
Alexander turns on a record player, and soft orchestral music fills the room. But instead of being soothing, the song grates on my nerves, like it’s associated with a bad memory.
He opens a velvet box with a beautiful diamond ring inside. “Will you have me as your husband, Samantha Mather?”
My heart flutters. “Yes, Alexander Jessup, I will.”
He takes the ring out of the box and slides it onto my finger. It sparkles in the candlelight. The anxiety from the music melts away, like an echo in the back of my mind.
He smiles so big I get lost in it. He places my arms around his neck, and slowly we turn. “I told you that you would dance with me before we reached New York. I believe you lost the bet.”
I laugh. “What’ll you do with your victory?”
“Claim my prize.”
“Oh yeah?”
His smile is mischievous.
“What?”
He pulls me over to the record player and hands me a silver dance card with lacy engraving and a ship on the front. I was just talking about a dance card, wasn’t I? I look from the record player to the dance card. It all feels familiar, and not good familiar.
He frowns. “You don’t like it? I’m sorry. I thought you would find it romantic. It’s silly.” He reaches for the dance card.
“Wait.” I stop his hand. “It is romantic.” I smile at the insecure look on his face. “I want this dance card, and under no circumstances will I give it back to you.” I pause. “In fact, if you don’t sign it, I’ll be severely disappointed.”
He grabs a silver quill-tipped pen off the desk, beaming. I open the dance card to the first blank page.
He takes a small pocketknife from the table, flips it open, and pricks the end of his finger. A bead of red appears. He dips the pen in it and writes his name largely over the entire “Engagements” section.
“Alexander! Blood? Really?” I watch him. Blood? Knife, dance card, record player, pen.
He frowns. “I want to be with you forever. Do you not want the same thing?”
I touch my forehead. “I just…There is something I can’t remember. Something right at the edge of my thoughts. Does that ever happen to you?”
He takes a step forward and runs his hand along the side of my neck. He kisses where his fingers just were. “Do you want to be with me?”
“I do.”
He pulls my sleeve off my shoulder and kisses my bare skin. “Do you love me?”
“Yes.”
He kisses me right under my chin. “Then sign your name,” he whispers in my ear.
My collarbone tingles and my hand goes to it. My fingers find something small and metallic. I look down at it. A broom necklace?
Alexander holds my other hand in his and pricks the tip of my finger with the knife.
“Couldn’t I just write my name in ink?” I ask.
He puts the knife down on the table. “Blood means more. Blood cannot be broken.”
I look at my finger with the droplet of blood on it, and he hands me the pen. An image of blood on my hands flashes before my eyes. Music. Record player. Dance card. A broom necklace. A pen. Blood. Blood-red…red…
“Redd,” I say, and the second her name leaves my lips, I feel different. Strange, like my mind is a cloudy sky starting to clear.
Something odd flickers in his eyes, and Alexander pushes the pen closer to me. “Sign, Samantha.”
Another cloud moves. “Alice,” I say.
“Who?”
“Alice. She gave me this necklace.” I look at him, with his perfectly combed hair and his shining hypnotic eyes. I hope he can explain what I’m saying to him. I don’t quite understand it myself.
For a brief second he appears worried. “I’m afraid I do not know her.”
I look down at my necklace. “Alice is close to me. A friend maybe. A friend from New York?” I roll the necklace between my fingers. “Not New York. That’s not right. I know her from somewhere else.”
“Samantha, please, this night should be about us, not about friends and the past,” Alexander insists.
I hear the agitation in his voice, and I want to agree with him. But I can’t let it go. Something about the necklace is pulling at me. “Salem?” The moment the word leaves my lips, thunder rattles my cloudy memory. “Salem,” I say more definitely. “I live in Salem.”
“Your family is from New York,” he says, taking a step closer. His gaze is focused and intense.
I’m ruining this moment, aren’t I? “Yes,” I say. “Of course.” I pause. “What’s wrong with me, Alexander? I feel like my mind is being pulled in two directions. Half is here with you and half is somewhere else.”
He takes my hand in his. “There is only a small divide between excitement and fear. You just need to focus on what makes you happy. You are happy here with me.”
“I am happy. Very happy.”
He gently lifts my hand and dips the pen in the blood on my fingertip.
I lay the dance card against the edge of the record player. He hovers next to me.
The song fades, and the record slowly spins to a stop. I examine it for a moment. “Nearer, My God, to Thee,” I read out loud.
Alexander guides my hand to the paper.
“The song that played when the Titanic sank?” I say. And su
ddenly there’s a flash of a beautiful room with a record player on a cabinet. Two people dancing. A note.
“Do not say that, Samantha,” Alexander says, his eyes tensing. “We are on the Titanic. Do not say that.”
More images appear in my mind—a stack of note cards with the words “Body not found,” a little girl in braids, a painting of my aunt, a small box with a broom necklace, my dad hugging me. My dad. I take a step away from Alexander.
“My name is Samantha Mather,” I say. “I live in Salem.” As clear as day I remember sitting in a circle on the floor of my spare bedroom doing a memory spell. Through my sisters’ eyes and my own, the seed of memory is firmly sown. And with that moment the rest of my memories come rushing back. “Alice is my friend. And the Titanic did sink.”
Alexander’s jaw tenses. “I told you to stop saying that.”
I stare at Alexander. His once shining eyes look a normal blue.
He stares back at me, the tension between us thick.
I blink at him. Am I seeing this correctly? How could this be right?
“Matt?”
He flinches ever so slightly. “Alexander. I am Alexander here.”
“Your accent…you’re…American?”
He smirks. “You should take it as a compliment really, that I went through all that trouble to sound British. I put on my best show for you.”
My mouth opens and I hesitate. “But…I didn’t recognize you. I mean, I saw you so many times.”
“The dress,” he says, his words clipped.
“Wait, I don’t understand. You put the spell on the dress?”
He nods like this should be obvious to me.
“Hold on, you’re not saying…you’re the one responsible for all this?”
He stands a little straighter.
Oh holy hell. What have I done? I said I would marry him? I kissed him. I scan the room. The door is behind me. “How did no one know you could do magic? How did the Descendants not know?”
He scoffs. “That’s the thing about the Descendants. They don’t want to believe that anyone besides themselves can do magic. Hence the accent.”
Well, that’s true. “So you pretended to be an exchange student to come to Salem.”
“I knew you were related to Myra. I had been looking for her for a long time.”
Haunting the Deep Page 23