by Nhys Glover
Chapter Thirteen
Karl
Karl’s hands were shaking as he clung to the smooth wooden railing on Boat Deck staring down at the passing jetties and docks that lined Southampton Channel. He noticed a giant liner, the New York, was behaving strangely as they passed her, rocking like a plastic boat in a bathtub and pulling away from its moorings. For a few minutes, he was sure the two mammoth crafts would collide, but then the tugs pulled the New York back into place and the Titanic continued on its journey out to sea unscathed.
However, it was not the near miss with the other liner that had his hands shaking. It was the pretty young woman he had just spent the last couple of hours with.
At first, he hadn’t noticed his reaction. Standing on the dock looking up at the Titanic had been exciting enough. When he’d spotted the pregnant woman being pushed out of the way by an inconsiderate lout, he had simply reacted, reaching out to support her because he was near enough to do so. There had been an elevation of his pulse rate when her big, blue eyes turned up to him in gratitude, but that was understandable, given the situation. However, from that moment on he couldn’t tear himself away from her. It was like he had found something precious, the answer to a complex problem, and he needed to evaluate it, consider it and sit with it until he was sure of its ramifications.
And he told himself, initially at least, that it was just good fortune that he’d found a possible Target, even before they reached the liner. But he would be lying to himself if he continued to hold to that argument. Lizzie’s pregnancy had nothing to do with his interest in her. And the longer he was with her, the stronger the physical pull became. Until now, standing on the deck having only left her minutes ago, he felt bereft and his hands were shaking like he had the DTs.
He didn’t know what was wrong with him. There was no discernible cause for this physiological phenomenon. It wasn’t nerves. If it were, he would have experienced it when he first met her. It wasn’t a malady he had contracted because his immune system, like all citizens of New Atlantis, was in peak condition. It might be a side effect of the new clone he had taken on six months before, but that was unlikely. Most of the ‘running in’ issues had been overcome by this time.
He remembered talking to Jac when he first came back with Cara seven years ago. Jac had been concerned by similar symptoms, including a sex drive that was quite uncharacteristic. Now Karl was feeling the same kind of out-of-control arousal. This was something that wasn't just uncommon in his past clones, but had been unknown to him in his Original. He could count the number of times he’d been sexually aroused by a woman in his Original, and it had never happened in a clone.
Certainly, he'd been attracted to Faith Lincolnshire and felt close to her after all the years they’d worked together. It had been unsettling when she had fallen in love with the loud, rough soldier from 1942, but it hadn’t affected his heart. He hadn't been “heart-broken,” as they called it, when he lost the object of his affection.
No, he'd just regretted losing Faith from his life. They'd made a good team and he'd worked well with her. She'd always been able to determine his needs, even before he did himself. It had been difficult finding an assistant to replace her.
But this feeling he had for the terribly young and innocent Lizzie Jones was something quite different. She didn’t make him feel comfortable. Her effect was closer to discomfort, although it was too pleasurable to be true discomfort. It was more that she unsettled him and somehow made him feel emotions he'd long thought denied to him. Just as this mission had inspired deeper, more intense emotions from him, so did she. And they'd only just met. What would it be like after he grew to know her better?
He was glad she was pregnant. He'd memorised the names of every woman who had been rescued from second class and Lizzie had not been one of them. In fact, there'd been no mention of her in any of the eyewitness accounts of those last hours before the ship finally sank. That meant that she was a candidate for selection. Her pregnancy made her even more suitable. And though he wasn’t trained to identify the qualities of prospective Targets as Retrievers were, he did know from personal experience what it took to be able to adjust to their world. It felt like Lizzie might well have those qualities.
He was glad. The idea that she would be left to her fate when the Titanic sank in four days’ time was unthinkable. However, he'd have to convince her to come with him of course, and that might not be easy. He wasn't good at explaining this kind of thing. Let him loose on accelerated cellular regeneration and growth or DNA replication, and he could explain their intricacies until the cows came home or until the students grew bored. But not this. This required emotional sensitivity, and he'd never had the call for it before. In fact, according to his father, such sensitivities were a scientist’s greatest enemy.
There was a backup plan, of course, for if he discovered women who were possible Targets among the second class passengers. He could get a message to Cara and bring her in to talk to the women. It would be the best way. Then he could be assured Lizzie would agree. Cara had a way about her. She had, right from the start. A rare find, her presence had changed their world for the better in so many ways.
He remembered how terrified she'd been about going through her first transition. Calming her had been part of his job and he did that well. People told him he was a sturdy rock they could cling to. It pleased him to be seen that way. Now, his tranquillity had evaporated and he was adrift in an emotional storm he wondered if he’d survive. And at the very centre of his maelstrom was a fragile, young flower he had no idea how to care for.
When he looked into Lizzie’s eyes, he saw the shadows of her pain and terror, and yet on the surface she seemed so confident and self-assured. Her attitude to her pregnancy was very atypical of the age. He'd wanted to kick himself when he'd first made mention of it, thinking that she would be offended by a strange man speaking of such a delicate matter. However, she'd been remarkably blasé about it, in the way her grandchildren would be by the end of the century.
But of course, if she were Targeted, then there would be a child, but there would be no child of her child. Her offspring would be infertile from the moment it crossed the Time-Space Continuum.
It was an interesting phenomenon that a fertilised embryo could successfully cross over into their world unscathed and develop to full term, but the rest of the mother’s unfertilised eggs would die. He was glad that Lizzie would have at least this one opportunity to bear a child. It was a gift every woman in his world would have envied.
The ship had left the harbour now and was well out to sea. The engines had picked up and the wind was buffeting him hard on the unprotected Boat Deck. His bowler hat, which he still found annoying to wear, was in his cabin. And he wore none of the pomade in his hair that men of this era had such a fondness for. His hair was cut short, but not buzz cut as he was used to, and he had been forced to comb his forelock to the side. However, its slight curl made it difficult to train and it now fell in a familiar way across his forehead. He should have trimmed it; he knew, but it was hard to change habits of hundreds of years. Now that forelock blew about in the wild wind, stinging his eyes.
He turned to go inside. Just as he was about to do so, he saw a couple walking toward him. The woman was very pregnant, possibly close to full-term, but rather than holding her arm in a caring way, the man with her seemed to be dragging her along striding out angrily. If he kept that up, Karl could see that the woman would trip and fall.
With no conscious thought of action, he stepped into the path of the couple and reached out to steady the woman. She was breathing fast and there were tears in her eyes.
‘What is the meaning of this?’ the man demanded. He was in his mid-twenties with a rather old-fashioned handlebar moustache. His chin receded badly and his eyes bulged like those of a goldfish. His mousey brown hair was glued back with pomade that Karl could smell from where he stood on the windblown deck.
The woman, on the other hand, was quite p
retty, even with the puffiness her pregnancy had brought to her face. Her hair was light brown and fashioned in the pompadour style that so many women of the era favoured. She was struggling to keep her broad-brimmed hat on her head.
‘Your wife was about to fall, sir. Had you not noticed?’
‘Don’t be absurd, of course she wasn’t. Gertie has become lazy of late and after our sedentary morning, she needed a stiff jaunt around the deck for her health’s sake.’
‘Not at this late stage in her confinement, sir. Unless you want to bring on her child early.’
‘What business is it of yours you impudent pup. Get out of our way. We still have a lap to complete.’
‘I am a physician, sir, and as such, your wife’s condition is my business. Let me take her down to luncheon and you can join her once you have taken your constitutional.’
‘Stuff and nonsense,’ the man muttered but released his wife. ‘You medical men think you have all the answers. My mother rode to hounds until she was ready to drop every one of her six children and she never lost one.’
‘That may well be as your mother might have been one of the rare breed with a strong constitution, but your wife appears to not be so well favoured. She is exhausted, and I would guess feeling every ache and pain right now, particularly in her feet.’
‘Well, do what you must. Take her inside. I should have paid heed to my mother. She told me Gertie would be a poor breeder.’
With that, he strode off, leaving Karl to hold up the young woman left behind.
‘I am sorry for his manner, sir, and appreciate your concern. He is just over-anxious about this voyage. He is not usually so harsh.’
‘I understand perfectly, my dear lady. Let me accompany you down to the dining salon on D Deck. I will introduce you to a young friend of mine who is, like yourself, in a delicate condition. She could do with someone to share her experiences with.’
He led her back along the deck until they reached their entrance to the lower levels, then he called up the lift to take them down to D Deck. He had already reserved a table for him and Lizzie without her knowledge, and he would now attempt to include Gertie and her husband on their same table.
Sure enough, just as the gong was sounded for luncheon, he was able to speak to the maître d’ and arrange for Gertie to join them.
At that moment, Lizzie came down the short corridor that led to her stateroom, and seeing him, smiled brightly. She hurried to his side.
‘Oh Karl, I was hoping I didn’t miss you for luncheon. It will be good to see a friendly face across from me. My roommate is proving to be anything but friendly.’
‘I am sorry to hear that. I have taken the opportunity to reserve a table for us together and have just included Mrs…?’
‘Howard,’ the woman provided.
‘Mrs Howard and her husband. I thought you two might have a deal in common.’
Lizzie smiled gently at the frazzled woman at his side. ‘Certainly, you are welcome to join us. You look quite done in. I am not looking forward to the later stages of my confinement as it seems exceedingly uncomfortable.’
‘It is. I cannot wait for this little one to be born. The doctors say I have another two weeks to go. I do hope not.’
‘Why are you travelling so late in your term?’ Lizzie asked, as she came around to the other woman’s side and took her arm, while Karl guided Gertie toward the open Dining Saloon doors.
‘My husband was offered a position which he needed to take up immediately. I would have preferred to stay at home with my family until after the birth, but Oliver insisted that we not be separated. He is a dear that way.’
“Dear” was not how Karl would describe the man, but it was not his place to comment. Instead, he held out the chair for Gertie and then did the same for Lizzie. Finally, he seated himself across from Lizzie, so he could watch her without drawing attention to his actions.
He took in their long table covered with white damask cloth and an array of silverware. It was not as heavily laid out as he expected the first class tables would be, but that suited him perfectly. Although he loved his food and had always had a big appetite, the Edwardian upper-class delight in gorging themselves with course after course of delicacies was an anathema to his sense of fairness. While children starved in the streets, the rich stuffed themselves to bursting. The imbalance was obscene.
He took up the menu, which had a picture of the Titanic, the meal and date printed on the top. There was more than enough on offer to meet his needs he saw. He would start with the chicken and vegetable consommé, following it with roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. Then he would try to find room for the fruit tart and coffee. While he waited for others to be seated at their long table and the waiter to come to take their orders, he buttered his bread roll and nibbled at it.
It had been a long morning and he was hungry. He, Carter and Hugo had left London that morning on the special White Star Line train. He had travelled first class with them and enjoyed a late breakfast on board. However, that was four hours ago now, and so much had happened since then that he felt decidedly empty. He poured himself a glass of iced water from the jug in the centre of the table, after offering the jug to Lizzie and Gertie.
‘Hungry?’ Lizzie commented, as she watched him tear into his roll. He felt himself blush.
‘Rather. It has been a long morning. I had something on the train down from London, but that was hours ago.’
‘You are still growing, from the look of you,’ Gertie commented with more animation than she had displayed so far. ‘My mamma used to say that boys had to grow into their feet. And from the look of yours, Mr…’
‘I do beg your pardon. I am Karl Langman. Please call me Karl.’
‘I had better not. My husband is a stickler for observing the rules of etiquette. But thank you, Mr Langman. As I was saying, from the size of your feet, Mr Langman, you still have some growing to do.’
‘Gertie, control yourself,’ muttered her husband as he seated himself next to her at the table.
‘It is perfectly all right. It is a fair observation. I do have big feet, but I can assure you I will be growing no taller. This is my limit, just over six feet.’
‘Gertie does not think before she speaks, do you Gertie? It is a habit we are endeavouring to correct.’ Oliver Howard continued on in the same vein, indifferent to the embarrassment of his wife or those he shared the table with. There were more people now joining them, and for a while, the introductions flowed fast and furious as the waiter took their orders. Then, while everyone settled in, Karl took the opportunity to ask Lizzie about her roommate.
‘She was not willing to take the upper bunk and when our stewardess offered to set up the divan for me, she complained there would be nowhere for her to sit. It does not bode well.’
‘Ah well, you have only a few nights to share your sleep with her.’
‘More than a week you mean. I may have to ask for another berth if things do not improve.’
Karl realised his mistake as soon as he’d said it. He was working on four nights on board; everyone else was expecting at least seven. He would have to watch himself. It was little mistakes like that which could catch them out.
‘Sounds a poor sort,’ observed Oliver, eavesdropping on their conversation. ‘We haven’t been introduced, my dear lady. Are you the doctor’s wife? No wonder he was so concerned about my Gertie’s condition with you being in the family way, as well.’
Lizzie blushed and took up her bread roll to butter. ‘No, sir, Mr Langman and I have only recently met. I am Mrs Anthony Jones, a widow travelling to family in New York.’
‘Well, Mrs Jones, my Gertie and I will take you under our wing won’t we my dear? Not proper to spend an inordinate amount of time with a bachelor. People might talk.’
Lizzie looked up from her bread roll and glared at his smarmy face. ‘Thank you for the offer. I will enjoy spending time with your wife on this journey, as I will enjoy my developing friendship with M
r Langman. I am a widow. It is totally acceptable for me to associate with whomever I choose.’
Karl was so proud of her he could have cheered. It was as polite a put-down as he could have hoped for, and the man sniffed his offence and turned away. The secret smile she sent Karl’s way further buoyed his spirits. She may have been through her share of hardship, but his Lizzie was not cowed by it by any means. His respect for her grew apace with his affection.
The soup arrived quickly and they dropped into a comfortable silence, as they enjoyed the well-prepared consommé. If it was any indication of the standard of the food they could expect, then they were in for a treat.
By the time they reached the fruit tart and coffee, Karl was comfortably full. He nibbled at his tart and watched Lizzie eat hers with obvious delight. He realised that she had probably gone a lot longer since her last meal than he and pregnancy increased the appetite.
After the meal was over, Karl offered Lizzie a walk around the promenade. Before she could accept, Oliver Howard interrupted.
‘It was only a little under an hour ago you were telling me my wife should not be taking exercise, and now you are offering it to Mrs Jones? What kind of physician are you?’
Keeping his calm, Karl came around to help Lizzie to her feet. ‘I am the kind who will allow my companion to set the pace and be willing to stop as soon as she tires. Something you might consider doing, Howard.’
He ushered Lizzie from the room without a backward glance.
‘He is a prig. I feel so sorry for that poor woman being married to him,’ Lizzie said as they took the lift up to the Boat Deck.
‘With any luck she might be free of him shortly,’ Karl said before he realised his mistake.
‘Shortly? What have you in mind?’ Lizzie asked curiously, as he opened the companionway door to the outer deck. The fresh sea air and sunshine greeted them like an old friend.
‘Nothing, I mean nothing. Ignore me. I forget we have known each other for such a short time.’
‘So you would explain if you knew me better. How very curious, Mr Langman.’ Her tone and the use of his surname told him she was playing. He decided to play along.
‘If I knew you better, Mrs Jones, there would be many things I would tell you that are more than curious.’
‘So why not forget that we have only just met and go with your feeling of familiarity. I am like a cat where my curiosity is concerned.’
‘But curiosity killed the cat.’
Lizzie laughed and turned to walk away, her hair blowing loose as a gust of wind caught the knot on the top of her head and tugged it free. She gasped and reached for the unsecured tendril.
Karl doubted he had ever seen anything as beautiful as those golden brown locks billowed about her flushed and smiling face, as her surprised laughter tinkled like the sweetest melody.
Before he thought better of it, he pulled her gently into a less breezy spot against the side of the ship and dropped a kiss on her cheek. Her look of surprise was equal only to his own.
What she did then was even more surprising. While still drawn close against him, his body shielding her from the wind, Lizzie stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek in return. Before he knew what he was doing, he was kissing her back, covering her warm, wet mouth with his own. Unsure what he was doing but letting his instincts lead the way, he immersed himself in her. The taste, texture and scent of her overwhelmed him, arousing him instantly.
He was not a virgin. Just. There had been that time at a lab Christmas party back before the LGP when a drunken co-worker had dragged him into a storeroom and seduced him. He had very little memory of the act, not then, nor 200 odd years later, but he was sure that this kiss with Lizzie was nothing like that frenzied, forgettable joining.
When she whimpered and opened her lips, inviting more, he felt his arousal escalate. He opened his own lips and tasted her velvet soft inner mouth with his tongue, finding himself driven crazy by the warmth and heady scent of her. Then, as the excitement became nearly more than he could bear and he wondered desperately what he could do next to take the feeling further and higher, she drew back from him abruptly, almost fearfully, and dropped her head.
‘I… I am sorry,’ he found himself stammering, taking a step away from her, so she had room to leave if she wanted to.
‘Do… don’t be. I just became frightened. It was not you…’
‘I did not mean to frighten you.’
‘I know. It is not you. I… I had a bad experience with a man and for a moment, I was back there. I am sorry. You are nothing like him. Your kiss was nothing like his.’
He reached out, drew her in close and began to walk with her along the deck. He wanted to protect her from her past and from everything that frightened her. Where this need came from he had no idea, but if he could have had armour and a charger, he would have slain her dragon in an instant.
Foolish idiot, he thought, but his hold on her didn’t lessen.
‘I am not like him. You need never be frightened of me,’ Karl told her as they walked, her small body stowed so neatly under his arm.
‘I know that, Karl. I do know that. I wish I could tell you about it, but you would think poorly of me, and I could not stand that right now.’
‘I could never think poorly of you. However, when you feel you can trust me, I am here to listen.’
He felt her nod her head against his shoulder. He squeezed her reassuringly.
The afternoon sun shone down on them as they walked on.