"Honestly, Amelia, if you do not hurry up, there will be trouble, you hear?"
The shrill voice of my aunt rang up the stairs to my bedroom, as loud and clear as if she were standing in the room with me. I sighed and made a face at the reflection in the mirror of my dressing table. The pale, dark-haired girl made a face back at me. I had just spent the best part of half an hour staring at myself in the mirror, and was no closer to accepting the person that stared back at me.
This had become a regular occurrence over the past few years; ever since my aunt had requested my presence at her weekly dinner parties, in which she entertained guests with her lavish supplies and luxury upholstery. These little get-togethers, as my aunt referred to them, had been happening every Friday evening for as long as I could remember, most likely ever since I had come to live with my aunt at the age of six, when my father sadly passed away. I had never known my mother, for she had died in childbirth; a tragedy that was not uncommon during the winter of 1896.
But it had only been since I turned thirteen that I had been required to sit at the table with rich, elderly guests whose life stories bored me to death over dinner week in and week out. And this evening would be a special occasion, I had been told. It was a few days before my sixteenth birthday, and I was quite sure my aunt was planning something I was unlikely to be thrilled by.
I knew that there were many young girls who could only dream of living a luxurious lifestyle such as my own, with new dresses every week and a bedroom bigger than some people’s whole houses. But to me, the dresses were merely items of restraint, the grand bedroom a vast, lonely space to retire to.
I knew it was ungrateful to view things in such a way, but years of being fussed over and forced into making idle conversation with people three times my age had left me feeling rather bitter about everything.
"Amelia! Get down here this instant!"
Sighing again, I gave my reflection one final despairing glance before departing my bedroom. With as much elegance and dignity as one could muster while wearing several layers of silk and lace, I made my way down the main staircase to where I could see my aunt; the wonderful Lady Eglantine, frills galore, stood looking as stern as ever.
"Amelia Forester, I have never known any such young lady take so long to get ready as you, dear girl! Our guests are due to arrive any moment." I liked how she referred to them as our guests, when I doubted very much whether anyone who came to our residence this evening would even remember my name.
"And, oh!" my aunt gasped as she took in my appearance properly. "You have not even powdered your face! And—oh, my gosh!" She was cut off as the shrill ting of the doorbell rang through the house.
"Good lord, they're here," she said, hurriedly smoothing down her many skirts. "Well, let's just be thankful that you are naturally pale. Now, places, people!"
She bustled off into the entrance hall, leaving me feeling as melancholy as I had been up in my bedroom. Taking a deep breath, I braced myself for another evening of boredom and food, and followed my aunt through the glass doors.
*****
"Mr. Pamellson-Brown, you've met my darling niece, Amelia?"
"Of course, of course!" boomed a large, beefy man with a rather red face. "Pleasure as usual, Miss Amelia. How are the horses?"
"Horses, sir?" I inquired, but there was no point. Mr. Pamellson-Brown had already bustled off, glass of red wine clutched tightly in his fist.
Greetings were often made in this way. Men and women alike would make curious comments to me, most likely thinking me to be somebody different, or else their memory impaired by years of wealth and luxury.
"Mister Doonan, and Mrs. Doonan, what a pleasant surprise. I am delighted that you came again. You remember my niece, Amelia?"
"Yes, yes," said Mr. Doonan, his long, curly moustache quivering as he spoke.
"You are the ballet dancer, are you not?" asked Mrs. Doonan, leaning toward me in an interested fashion.
"N-no," I said. "Not me!"
"No, no," interjected my aunt quickly. "No ballet for my dear Amelia. The girl's always been far more interested in reading! Now, have you seen this eighteenth century vase over here? Quite a remarkable piece..."
My aunt led the Doonans across the room, gesturing to me discreetly that I should walk around and appear interested in people, at least until dinner was called.
Looking about the rather crowded room, I searched for something that would make me feel slightly less awkward. Spotting Maisie, my dress maid, hovering near the glass doors, I hurried over. At least conversation would not be swayed to topics of money with her.
"Good evening, Miss," said Maisie, curtseying when she saw me. "You are looking lovely this evening, I must say."
"Yes, yes," I said, hating compliments of any sort. "Thank you."
There was a pause for a moment while we both surveyed the scene in front of us.
"Your aunt is looking dazzling tonight, is she not?" asked Maisie. My aunt was in the middle of the room, surrounded by people, and seemed to be literally radiant. Perhaps it was due to the shining beads on her skirts, or maybe confidence and elegance really were the key to a good appearance.
"Indeed," I said. "You don't happen to know what she's got planned for this evening, do you, Maisie?"
"No, Miss. Not at all. But I'm sure it will be something most pleasant for your sixteenth."
"Hmm," I said, not convinced.
A bell tinkled from the other side of the room, and one of our smartly dressed waiters, Jenkins, I think it was, though it was hard to tell from so far away, announced that dinner was ready to be served.
At this point, I found myself propelled forward with a general throng of people, including my aunt, toward the revolving doors that led to the dining room.
"Amelia, dear, you'll sit up next to me. Yes, there. Next to Mr. and Mrs. Hartley."
The massive dining table that stretched practically to the full extent of the room groaned under a galore of food, drink, and table decorations.
I was glad, for the most part, that the food provided a convenient distraction that saved me having to converse much with the Hartleys. After all, it cannot be deemed ladylike to talk when one's mouth is full.
The main course was cleared away, and dessert brought out in a flurry of waiters, dishes, and meringue. When the dessert plates, too, were cleared away, and a lull in the chatter of the evening showed that our guests were pleasantly full and tired, my aunt stood up and tapped her glass delicately with her knife, indicating that she was about to address the whole party.
This was not unusual. She often chose to make long speeches after dinner, particularly if she had drunk copious amounts of wine. These speeches would tire people out even more through their sheer length, if not their uninteresting content.
"My dear friends," she began. "I thank you all deeply for coming tonight. The evening has been most pleasant, and I do hope you have enjoyed yourselves."
There was a murmur of agreement around the table.
"However," continued my aunt. "I believe there is one more thing that must be done before you all depart homeward. As I'm sure you are all aware, it is my darling niece Amelia's sixteenth birthday in a matter of days, which, of course, is a very special occasion."
My aunt gestured towards me, and then, for some reason that resulted in my immense embarrassment, the people around the table applauded. I wasn't really sure why; turning sixteen didn't really seem like something that required congratulating me on.
"And," continued my aunt, when the clapping had subsided, "because this is a special occasion, I feel it deserves a special gift. Daines?" She turned to Daines, one of the waiters who had been hovering in the doorway.
Daines produced a gold envelope from his pocket and passed it to my aunt. I stared at it, wondering what on earth it could be. Knowing my aunt and her previous gifts to me, it was unlikely that the contents of the envelope would excite me.
As the envelope was passed over to me, I saw my name, Miss Amelia Forester, written on the front. The envelope itself was heavy, unusually so. I looked to my aunt, intrigued.
"Well, open it, then!" she said.
I slit open the envelope and tipped the contents into my hand; two first class tickets for the maiden voyage of the RMS Titanic.
"What? I—I can't—how?" I stuttered to myself, staring down at the tickets in surprise.
The Titanic, the White Star Line's latest vessel, was due to make her maiden voyage that April, but apart from that, I knew little of it, although I had assumed that tickets had been booked in advance with no more available, especially this close to the voyage.
"I've had them hidden away for such a long time," said my aunt, as though reading my thoughts.
And then the group of guests seated around the table, who I had largely forgotten about in my shock about the tickets, began to applaud again, and I was saved having to say much more.
*****
When the guests had dispersed, all claiming the evening was marvelous, and a team of staff had been left to clear up the debris, I found myself alone in the deserted parlor, still with the Titanic tickets clutched in my hand.
I picked my way across the room, stumbling over abandoned glasses and furniture, to the doors on the other side that led out onto the patio. Despite the January chill, I unlocked the doors and stepped into the cold night.
The moon was bright in the dark, crisp sky, and reflected down upon the water fountain on the lawn, and the strings of garden lights strung in the bushes illuminated the entire garden. I looked down at the tickets in my hand and sighed.
New York...for that would be where the Titanic would take me. Myself and my Aunt Eglantine, off on a voyage to America together. I couldn't help smiling to myself then; despite her constant referring to me as her darling niece, we didn't get along very well a lot of the time. Several days together in close proximity might prove to be challenging. There was a swirling in my stomach that was a mixture of nerves and excitement that had been present ever since the tickets had been given to me.
I knew that they had been given to me as a gift, and I was extremely grateful to my aunt, but I could not help an irrepressible feeling of foreboding. Perhaps it was the fact that I had rarely traveled out of my hometown of Banbury, and America suddenly seemed very, very far away.
"Amelia?"
Jumping slightly, I turned to see my aunt, still as elegant as ever, despite it being past midnight, standing in the doorway.
"Whatever are you doing out here in the cold?"
"Oh!" I said, hurriedly. "I was just…er…um…regarding the…um..." I glanced around the garden for a distraction. "The fountain. It's looking lovely this evening."
"Yes," said Aunt Eglantine, coming out of the door. "It is beautiful."
She looked down and saw the tickets in my hand.
"Thank you," I said, seeing her glance. "For the tickets. What a wonderful treat."
"Yes," she said. "I'm sure you will have a marvelous time. The Titanic is sure to be the grandest ship from the White Star Line yet. This is to be a trip to remember."
I nodded, regarding a moth fluttering past.
"And America, of course," continued my aunt. "What an adventure that will be!"
"Indeed," I said, stomach twisting once more.
"Of course, Amelia," said my aunt, serious now. "This is not just a trip for enjoyment."
"It isn't?"
"Of course not! There shall be many young, wealthy men when we dock in America, if not on the Titanic herself! I plan to make some important calls and make sure that certain people will be accompanying us. Now, let us get inside and to bed immediately. It is far too cold to be standing outside here!"
And, with that, she turned and left me standing alone on the patio, feeling as though it would have been too good to be true that my aunt would have purchased the Titanic tickets for me purely for recreational purposes.
Sighing, I turned and followed my aunt back inside.