COLLIDING DESTINIES
Chapter Two
April 10, 1912
A shiny new Daimler-Benz pulled
up to the dock, horn honking, followed quickly by a Renault. People moved aside
as the cars approached, some muttering in annoyance.
A moment later, a door on the
Daimler-Benz opened and a gloved hand was extended. The car’s driver took the
hand to help the young lady out of the car.
Rose Hockley emerged from the
car, turning and lifting her head to survey the ship from under her enormous
purple hat. A man, perhaps twenty years older than the girl, stepped out of the
car and came to stand beside her.
Rose turned to look at her
fiancé, Maxwell Sheffield, before turning back to the ship. At that moment,
another couple emerged from the second car and came to stand beside them.
Caledon and Ruth Hockley gazed at
the ship from beside their daughter and her fiancé. Rose turned to her father,
her face set in an expression of disdain.
"I don’t see what all the
fuss is about. It doesn’t look any bigger than the Mauritania."
Cal looked at her in
exasperation. "You can be blasé about some things, Rose, but not about
Titanic. She’s over a hundred feet longer than the Mauritania, and far more
luxurious." He turned to his wife. "She’s your daughter, Ruth."
Ruth laughed lightly, suspecting
that Rose’s attitude towards the ship came more from her father’s constant
bragging about it than from any real disdain. One would think that he had built
it himself, rather than just being part-owner of the company that had
contributed a great deal of the steel to the ship.
She looked at it again, laying a
mollifying hand on her husband’s arm. "So, this is the ship they say is
unsinkable."
Cal could still not resist
bragging. "It is unsinkable. God Himself could not sink this ship…"
He turned in annoyance as the porter who had been trying to get his attention
since he had gotten out of the car tapped him on the shoulder.
"What?"
"You need to check your
baggage through the main terminal, sir."
Cal sighed, digging into his
pocket and pulling out a five-pound note. He handed it to the porter. "If
you will kindly see my man about it…" He gestured to his valet, Spicer
Lovejoy.
The porter’s eyes widened at the
tip. "Oh, yes, sir! If I can do anything at all, sir!"
Lovejoy grabbed him by the
shoulder, directing him to a truck that had pulled up behind the two cars.
"All the trunks from there, and there…" He pointed to the trunks
fastened to the back of the Renault. "…and the safe…to rooms B-52, 53, and
54."
The porter’s eyes widened again,
this time in dismay at the enormous piles of trunks and boxes. He blew on his
whistle, calling for assistance.
"Niles." Max gestured
to Lovejoy and the overwhelmed porter, indicating that he should assist them.
Then he looked at his fiancée. "Shall we?"
Rose nodded, linking her arm with
his and following her parents towards the boarding ramp. She rolled her eyes
slightly at her father, who was still singing the ship’s praises. "They
should have hired him to do publicity," she whispered to Max.
Max smothered a laugh as Cal
turned back and looked at his daughter. "Are you coming, sweetpea?"
Rose sighed. "Yes, Father,
I’m coming." She glanced back at Trudy, the maid who had assisted both herself
and her mother on this trip. "Trudy, my coat?"
"It’s right here,
Miss."
Rose nodded, turning forward
again, her arm still linked with Max’s as they started up the boarding ramp,
her mind going over the engagement trip to Europe they were completing with the
voyage aboard the Titanic.
Rose and Max had met a year ago
at a gala to celebrate the opening of his latest Broadway production. Neither
Cal nor Ruth were great patrons of the theater, but Rose adored it, so they
frequently indulged her by taking trips into New York to see the latest
Broadway shows.
Rose loved everything about the
theater—the lights, the music, the actors on the stage, the costumes, the
thrilling dramas and light-hearted comedies. More than anything, she longed to
be a part of that world herself, but her parents had put their feet down,
forbidding her under any circumstances from going onstage or even working
behind the scenes. Well-brought-up young ladies did not go on the stage, nor
did they engage in the manual labor necessary to support the actors. Rose could
watch, but taking part was forbidden.
Nevertheless, Rose had been
thrilled to meet a Broadway producer. Maxwell Sheffield was well-to-do, if not
quite a part of their class. He understood Rose’s fascination with the theater
far better than her parents ever had, willingly discussing with her all the
different aspects of putting a show on. Rose had hinted that she would like to
take part in a production, but he had been unwilling to go so far as to put her
on the stage.
In spite of the fact that Max was
not quite of the same status as them, Rose’s parents had seen how much she
liked him and had encouraged the match when Max began courting her. Though Max
was forty years old, a widower with three children—older, in fact, than Cal,
who was only thirty-six—they had approved of the relationship, and when Max had
asked for Rose’s hand in marriage, Cal had granted it.
Now, however, Rose was beginning
to have second thoughts. She liked Max very much, but she was beginning to
realize that she cared for him more as a friend than as a potential husband.
They had a great deal in common—but was it enough to base a marriage on?
Rose had met Max’s children when
they had been home from boarding school. His eldest daughter, Maggie, was only
two years younger than Rose, and seemed intimidated by her outgoing soon-to-be
stepmother. The other two children, Brighton and Grace, had been more
accepting, but Rose was beginning to realize that she didn’t feel ready to be
their stepmother.
Max, too, was having second
thoughts about the marriage, though he hadn’t said anything to Rose. He loved
her, but he also realized that she was very young and full of dreams about what
she wanted to do with her life—and she wanted far more out of life than being a
wife, mother, and society lady. Though he brushed aside her hints that she
wanted to be onstage, he wasn’t as blind to her dreams as she thought. He often
suspected that she would rather be the star of his show than the lady of his
house.
He had hoped to talk these things
over with her on this trip, but no opportunity had presented itself. He
realized, though, that any decisions would have to be made soon—the wedding was
only a little over two months away, scheduled for June twelfth.