December 3, 1929
At around two PM, a knock sounded on the door of the Dawson residence. With twenty-one-month-old Jonathon in her arms, Rose answered. To her shock, she found her lawyer, Mr. Harry Burgess. He was a tall, thin man, around fifty years old, dressed smartly in black. She had not seen Mr. Burgess since her divorce from Robert in the early 20's.
“Hello. Mrs. Dawson?” he spoke, his voice deep.
“Yes? What can I do for you?”
“I have to speak with you confidentially, Mrs. Dawson, you and your eldest daughter.” He found a piece of paper in his pocket. “Miss Elizabeth Hockley.”
After taking a few seconds to digest the information, she allowed him into the house, placing Jonathon in his playpen. “I'm afraid Lizzy is at school,” she spoke, wandering to the stove. “Tea?” she asked.
“Yes. Thank you.”
“Take a seat,” Rose offered. “Is this a matter of urgency?”
Moments later, Jack entered the kitchen and gave Rose a peck on the cheek. It was a few seconds before he noticed Mr. Burgess. He offered his hand to the strange man sitting at his dining table. “Hey, I'm Jack Dawson, Rose's husband.”
“Ah…pleased to meet you, Mr. Dawson. I am Harry Burgess, Rose's lawyer.”
“Lawyer?” Jack glanced from Rose to Mr. Burgess, taking note of his fine attire.
“Yes. I have come to speak with Rose and her daughter, Elizabeth.”
Rose approached the table with three cups of hot tea. She handed one to Mr. Burgess before offering one to Jack.
“I would really like to speak with Mrs. Dawson alone, if that's all right.”
“Sure.” Jack glared at the man slightly.
“Mr. Burgess, my husband and I have no secrets,” Rose began, but Mr. Burgess insisted they speak alone.
“I'll be down by the river, Rose. I'll take Jonny. I'll pick the kids up from school later.”
“All right, darling.” Rose smiled at Jack. He planted a kiss on her cheek before walking to the playpen where their youngest son played. He picked him up and found his coat before walking out the door. Rose watched her husband leave the room with their son before sitting down at the table and warming her hands around the cup of tea.
“What brings you here, then?” she asked.
Opening his briefcase, Mr. Burgess pulled out several pieces of paper. “I'm afraid this isn't good news, Mrs. Dawson.”
“Rose, please,” she offered. “We have known each other a number of years. There is no need for so much formality.”
“All right, then, Rose.” He found the paper he was looking for before shutting his briefcase and placing it on the floor. “Rose, your ex-husband, Mr. Caledon Hockley, died on the fifth of November.”
“He what?” Rose's breath became locked in her throat. “Died? But how? He was only just how old? Not yet fifty.”
“He was forty-seven. He shot himself in the head. He left three children, Elizabeth and two daughters with his other ex-wife, Catherine Fulham, Betsy and Helen.”
Standing, Rose could not let the information sink in. “Suicide?”
“Yes. His business was affected badly by the Wall Street crash. He left a note stating he could no longer cope.”
“Spineless…” Rose was about to curse before she realized she shouldn't. She felt so much anger towards her ex-husband. He was a spineless coward. “Mr. Burgess, what does this have to do with Lizzy? Cal has not seen my daughter since she was three years old.”
“Well, what little money Mr. Hockley did have left will be split between his children. Lizzy is the eldest, so she will receive around two thousand dollars.”
“Two thousand dollars? But what about his other children?”
“They are involved in a bitter battle with their mother and Mr. Hockley's youngest brother, Hugh. They are fighting over his estate like wolves. Elizabeth was his next of kin. He was no longer married to Catherine.”
“Oh, Lord.” Rose felt dizzy. This was too much to take in just half an hour. “How am I going to tell Lizzy?” she asked, almost to herself.
“Rose, if your daughter would like to claim the money, she will have to sign this paper here.” Mr. Burgess pointed to it.
“But she is sixteen years old. She cannot even remember her father.”
“The decision is hers, Mrs. Dawson. When will she be returning from school?”
“Within the hour.” Rose glanced at the clock.
At 3:30 PM, Jack returned with the children. Olivia was now twelve, Charlie was ten, and Lilly was four. Lizzy had walked home with two of her school friends and came home a little later. Jack wondered what Mr. Burgess was still doing at his house, and more importantly, what he wanted to speak to Rose about. When Lizzy came home, Rose ushered the other children away and led Lizzy into the living room with Mr. Burgess. After sitting themselves down on the couch, Lizzy began to wonder who this man was and what this was all about.
“Elizabeth, I am Harry Burgess, your mother’s lawyer.”
Lizzy stared blankly at the man in front of her and looked at her mother, who simply smiled and squeezed her hand.
“Hey,” was all she said in return, wondering what was going on.
“I have come with some bad news. Your father, Mr. Caledon Hockley, died on the fifth of November.”
The room went silent for a few moments before Lizzy turned to her mother. Rose watched her daughter’s face. She showed nothing—no emotion, no tears, no signs of anything.
“Lizzy…”
“I'm sorry, sir, but I find I do not even care,” she said abruptly. “I haven't seen my father since I was a little girl and find it does not matter if he is dead or alive. To me, he has been dead for some time.”
Rose was stunned at her daughter’s words. She had expected at least some emotion. Mr. Burgess was shocked at the way Miss Hockley had spoken, for a girl of just sixteen.
“There is something else. Your father remarried some years ago to Catherine Fulham, but they divorced in 1927. Your father had two daughters with Miss Fulham, but as you are the eldest, you are to inherit two thousand dollars from him.”
Sighing, Lizzy stood. She could not believe this man had come all the way to England just to tell her that. Why should she care? Her so-called father never had. Mr. Burgess pulled out a slip of paper.
“If you would like to sign here, Miss Hockley.” He offered her a pen. Lizzy looked at it blankly and then at her mother. This man really thought she wanted his money?
“No,” she said straight out.
“No? Miss Hockley, this is a lot of money.”
“Well, then, let his other heirs keep the damned money, because I don't want anything from Caledon Hockley. He never bothered with me in life. He shouldn't bother after death. The money is not mine, nor will it ever be.” With that, Lizzy walked from the room and upstairs.
Sighing, Rose stood, straightening out her shirt. “I'm sorry your trip was in vain.”
“Mrs. Dawson, I think your daughter doesn't understand the situation. It would be a lot easier just to take the money.”
“No, Mr. Burgess. My daughter does understand. I have raised her by myself and she will speak her own mind.”
“But she is so young…”
“She is growing to be a young woman. She thinks of Jack as her father and always will. I'm sorry your trip was pointless.”
With that, Mr. Burgess nodded his head before following Rose into the kitchen. The children were sitting at the table and Jack had started dinner.
“Who's that man?” Charlie pointed.
“Charlie, don't be rude,” Jack scolded before noticing Lizzy hadn't followed Rose and her lawyer from the living room. “Olivia, watch dinner,” he ordered. Rose spoke with her lawyer outside the door. Jack ran up the stairs. He wanted to know where Lizzy was. He found her in her room, staring out of the window meekly.
“Liz?”
Lizzy turned her head to find Jack. Tears were in her dark green eyes and immediately Jack came to her and put his arms around her. She was tall for her age. She was taller than Rose. He shushed her and stroked her jet black curls. “Whatever is wrong?”
Sitting on the bed, Lizzy shook her head. “My father, the great Caledon Hockley, is dead.”
Jack's mouth fell open slightly. “Dead? Oh, Lizzy…” Jack placed his arm around her shoulder.
“Oh, don't worry. I'm not shedding tears of loss, just anger. Mom's lawyer said I had two thousand dollars to claim from my father, but I told him he can keep it.”
Jack was amazed. “That's a lot of money.”
“I know, but it’s not my money. He is not my father…” Lizzy hesitated and looked at Jack. “You're my father. Since I was a little girl, I saw you as my father.”
Jack looked at Lizzy, the perfect young woman. She was beautiful, smart, and he loved her like his own daughter. “And you're my daughter.”
Kissing the top of her head, he pulled her towards him. He felt so proud of her and he couldn't put into words how happy he was that she had turned the money down. He felt she had done the right thing. Footsteps came up the stairs, and Rose came into the bedroom.
“Lizzy, are you all right?” Rose found Jack and Lizzy hugging.
“I'm just fine.” She smiled, kissing Jack's cheek. Rose smiled, wondering what had happened.
Rose sat beside Jack and touched his hand. Lizzy stood in front of her mother and Jack for a few moments. She thought of how happy her mother was with Jack, how happy she herself had felt since they had come together as a family. “I want to ask you something, Uncle Jack…”
“What, sweetie?”
“I want to be your daughter, Uncle Jack, properly. Would you adopt me? As your own child?”
Jack was speechless. He felt overwhelmed, but knew there could be only one answer. “Of course.”
She laughed as he picked her up and spun her once before hugging her. Rose watched, laughing happily.
“I want to be part of the Dawson family properly.”
“You are, darling. I love you like my daughter and I always will.”