Rekindling
By S.S. Brown
Copyright 2013 S.S. Brown
Chapter 1
April 10th, 1912
My eyes snapped open and lingered on the mahogany poster of the bed as I took a deep breath, trying to find a bit of peace before today’s mayhem began.
“Miss Ophelia, Miss Ophelia!” I glanced at the door to find Gertrude barging into my room as if reading my mind. She was on the verge of panic, clutching some last minute clothes in need of packing.
“Have you seen your traveling suit?” I put on my silk robe and trailed over to the wardrobe room, where a large pile of trunks rested in the center.
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?” I teased the old maid, watching as her face pinked. Gertrude tended to forget many things that her job demanded, but I knew it was probably due to her old age.
“Oh, Alright.” I relented. “It’s in the top right trunk at the very top, you can’t miss it.” The older woman sighed with relief and the color returned to her face as she pulled out the navy suit from the leather case, checking it for wrinkles.
“I’m surprised to see you awake so early,” She commented, her sunny disposition present even in her voice.
“Well, it was hard to sleep with all the staff bustling around.” I replied, choosing some light fruit from the large platter of food that was placed on my bed. Gertrude had been helpful enough to sneak in a copy of the newspaper as well. The energy as she paced in and out of my bedroom was almost palpable.
“Your Mother needed everything needed to be perfect. It’s a very exciting day. Are you looking forward to your trip?” The curiosity was evident in her tone.
“Of course. Traveling on the Titanic doesn’t happen every day. But I would prefer to stay here.” From the corner of my eye I saw Gertrude nod in understanding.
"It’s difficult to leave a place where one truly matures, like you did." She agreed. While she continued to pull garments from my wardrobe, I picked out a dress for the day. It was a new design: a bit more fitted than I would usually opt for, but very modest. It was flattering for the figure, but not vulgar.
"I miss America.” I admitted. “Mother is more than happy to go back home. Now that I’m engaged to Stanley, she feels it’s time to return. But I’ve grown rather fond of England." I admitted quietly. There is nothing wrong with the Unites States, but it felt disturbing to leave the place where I’d finally grown into myself…it felt as if I was leaving behind unfinished business. Just then, one of the younger maids, Gwen, walked into the room holding up a freshly laundered corset. Oh no.
"Time to get dressed, miss!" She grinned, gleefully taking joy in the masochist misery of the upper class.
***
I tried to breathe without fidgeting, the boning of the corset nearly crushing my ribs. Gwen argued that such a fitting dress would look best if my corset was tighter, and I was dumb enough to listen to her.
A first-class lady needs to look her status, and that meant cinching up my waist so much I could hardly breathe. My clothes had been starched and pressed so much that it felt stiff against my body. I was also wearing a large, wide-brim hat that featured an annoying feather that kept bobbing near my face. Hats were all the rage lately: the more bizarre, the better. My mother glanced at me then and I froze, not wanting to be openly reprimanded in the automobile for fidgeting so much. I tried to remove the annoyed look from my face as Stanley (my betrothed) discussed business with Uncle Carlton.
"...Then he turned down the merger!" He sputtered. Stanley was so exasperated that his usually fair faced turned an odd shade of puce. He's the son of a baron, with a keen interest in law and economics. I liked him well enough, but I never loved him.
Uncle Carlton became agitated anytime I butted into ‘masculine topics’, so I ignored their prattling. Don’t get me wrong, I loved a good challenge, but today I didn’t have the strength to debate with him on matters of gender.
“You seem rather subdued today,” Mother commented quietly, so as to not alert the men of our conversation. “I hope you’re not planning to try something.” She added cautiously. If there was anyone who knew of by stubborn attitude, it was my mom.
“I’m not.” I replied hoarsely. My voice was weak, but it rang with finality. There was something about knowing I’d never be in England again that made me melancholic.
The automobile came to a practiced stop and the door was swiftly opened, revealing the driver holding out a gloved hand. A waft of sea breeze made my heart speed up a little. There was something about the salty air that made excitement surge through me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
“M’lady?” I was helped down and waited for mother to join me. We were jostled around by the hordes of people that had come to see the ship off.
The Titanic was magnificent. When I first caught a glance of it, I almost gasped. It felt like I was staring at a giant mountain. The only difference was that it didn’t look dangerous or uncivilized: the Titanic was grand. It was painted simply, but in a very elegant manner, and featured large smokestacks painted in a bright red color.
Mother beheld the ship with wonder, like the hundreds of people surrounding us. There was a little buzz of energy, a feeling of wonder. Everyone looked at the ship and questioned if such a masterpiece could be made by human hands.
“It’s amazing.” Mother said breathlessly, her mouth gaping slightly in astonishment. Coming from the woman who hadn’t even flinched at my behemoth engagement ring, this was saying a lot.
“We’re a bit early,” Uncle Carlton came up behind us, clutching today’s newspaper in his hand. “But it’ll give us more time to settle in at our leisure.” I saw Mother nodding solemnly, her chestnut hair peeking out from under her large, elaborate hat.
“We’ll be sure to avoid the steerage scum.” I gaped and almost admonished her, but knew it was probably for show. Mother walked ahead of me perched on the crook of my Uncle’s arm and Stanley appeared beside me and took my hand wordlessly.
Walking the gangplank into the ship felt like a fashion display. The first-class passengers were dressed to impress, and they weren’t holding back, I thought wryly. Once we entered the ship I caught a glimpse of a grand staircase. It was stunning, made up of carefully carved wood that gleamed in soft light entering from a large dome standing above it. I would make sure to explore it later. We were then escorted by a steward to our cabins and had our luggage delivered accordingly.
“Would you like some tea, miss?” I looked up with a start to find a stewardess holding a tray with steaming tea and truffles. I accepted the tea gingerly, but turned down the snacks, instead choosing to observe as all of our trunks were unpacked in our cabin.
“Don’t interchange our trunks!” Mother shrilled from the adjacent room, making me contain the urge to cringe. Instead of embarrassing her in front of the staff I trailed to the window, which had been open to let in sunlight and fresh air. A smile erupted on my face as I saw all of the people waving us off. I know they weren’t waving at us in particular, but it was still good fun. I fought the urge to run off to A-deck and wave back as my mother approached me.
“I think we should go to the deck for the departure.” I told her tentatively, giving her a fleeting glance. She joined me at the window with practiced indifference.
“Do you? How bourgeoisie of you.” She replied dismissively, avoiding anything that would question our status. Mother often compared the upper class to a gentleman’s club: standing out just once could get you rejected for the rest of your life.
From the corner of my eye, I managed to see some first class passengers still boarding the ship. The color drained from my face as I focused on a familiar mop of brown hair. I observed him intensely for heart stopping seconds, until there was no doubt i
n my mind.
He was here.