May 2, 1911
The park was alive with people and Jack sat under a shaded tree as he ate a small sandwich of ham and pickle which he had packed himself for lunch. Business had been good that morning. He had made more than he usually did, but today was a beautiful day with the sun shining down. He could feel the sweat on his face as he ate the last bit of his sandwich. He grabbed a small handkerchief, wiped his forehead, and pushed his dark blond hair from his eyes. He squinted heavily as he looked at the sun before walking back to where his art supplies were laid out neatly, waiting for the next customer to arrive. He sat on the bench, feeling himself swelter even more. Rolling the sleeves up on his navy blue shirt, he contemplated packing up and going home, spending the rest of the day by himself rather than sitting in the park. After all, he had made enough money. Families littered the park, some couples and dogs chasing the children around. It put a smile on Jack's face. The odd time he had found inspiration from something so little, he sat in his usual spot and just drew it. Sometimes, he sketched people and gave them the drawing free of charge.
The clacking of heels came down the long path leading to the bench Jack sat on, and he looked to his left, placing his hand over his eyes to shield the sun so he could see properly. It was Maria. Wiping his hands on his trousers, he stood and shoved them in his pockets and watched her walk towards him—she was slow and attracted a lot of attention from nearby people in the park. Her brown eyes sparkled as she smiled and came towards Jack.
“Good afternoon, Jack.” She smirked. “I'd like to ask you a favor on this fine day.” She sat on the bench and Jack sat beside her.
“What can I do for you?” he asked her. He hoped she hadn't come to ask more questions about Rose.
“I was wondering if you'd draw me a portrait—nude,” she whispered quietly, leaning towards him as she spoke in his ear. She licked her lips as she moved away from him slowly.
Jack swallowed nervously, seeing her lips curve in a flirtatious smile. “Um…I don't know,” he stuttered slightly. It wasn't that he was nervous, because he had seen her naked before, and most of the girls at the brothel, but he knew how much Rose disliked her and didn't want to ruin any chance he might have of being with Rose.
“And why not? I know you're not shy, Jack.” She smiled, touching his forearm. “Or is it Rose?”
Jack moved away from Maria, sat with his legs open a little, and folded his hands in his lap before bowing his head a bit. She had hit the nail on the head. It was Rose who was getting the better of him. He wouldn't do his job because of Rose. “Maria, I just don't think it would be a good idea.”
“Because of Rose? You would give up your talent for her?” Maria began to get riled. But then she thought of something, a way she could get her own way—the man who came by the brothel looking for Rose the day before. His name was very posh, Caledon something. He came dressed like he owned an entire country, with not one hair on his head out of place. He had come asking for Rose DeWitt Bukater. He told Satine she had run away from finishing school a few months previous and he had been searching ever since and thought that perhaps she had lowered herself to become a prostitute to survive. Maria had kept her mouth shut, saying she didn't know the name, when obviously she did.
“It’s not about that, Maria. It’s just…inappropriate.” He chose his words carefully. He had decided it would be best if he packed away his belongings and went home. The heat was almost unbearable and the last thing he wanted was Maria's company for the rest of the day. He collected his drawings, placing them carefully inside his portfolio.
“Look, Jack, there's something that I think you should know.” Maria stood and placed her hands on her hips.
A serious expression fell across Jack's face and he stopped, gathering his charcoal together and turning his full attention to her, His lips pursed and he crossed his arms over his chest.
“Someone came to Madame Satine's yesterday, looking for Rose,” she spoke, and it was the truth, but she would not reveal all unless she could lure him to the brothel.
“Looking for her? Like who? What did they say?” Jack wondered who could be looking for her. It had been three months since she had left the finishing school and, aside from Cal, no one would be looking for her. He wondered if Maria was actually fabricating a story.
“I can't say, Jack. It is private. What happens at Madame Satine's stays there. Unless…you're willing to come with me, to do the sketches. Maybe Satine will give you more information.”
Shaking his head in disbelief, Jack knew there was a catch to it. He was sure Maria was lying. If she was a true friend like he thought she was before he met Rose, then she would just tell him. It was true that he had drawn her and the other girls nude before, but he really didn't want to lose any chance he had with Rose. He wasn't even sure what they felt for each other, but the number of times they had kissed and the passion between them spoke of something. If Maria was telling the truth, though, then Jack wanted to know who had come looking for her. “Do you swear it's the truth?” he asked her, seriousness showing in his eyes.
Maria looked him right in the eyes and nodded slowly. “Of course I swear. I wouldn't lie to you, of all people, Jack.” She meant her words. She counted him as a friend.
Thinking about it for a few seconds, Jack nodded, almost to himself, as he registered in his mind that he would go with Maria to find out who had come looking for Rose. He hoped it wasn't trouble. “All right. I'll come with you.”
*****
The Parisian streets were long and narrow, with horse drawn carriages pulling all sorts of materials, fruits, vegetables, and different goods towards Market Street. Since arriving in Paris five months previous, Rose had done very little exploring of the city.
The sun was warm and Rose pulled her hat further over her face to shield herself from the rays. Her complexion was very pale and when sun hit her, she turned very red and found it painful—well, that was when she was seven and had been fishing all day with her father, Uncle Roger, and two cousins, but since that day her mother had taught her to always wear hats and cover up as much as possible so she wouldn't burn.
She wore a yellow day dress, which was layered with white lace and a white belt around her waist. The last time she had worn this dress, she had been on the ship to Paris with her maid, Minnie, and had worn a corset beneath it. She shuddered at the thought of wearing a corset ever again in her life. They were Godawful things which many times had caused her to pass out because of her breathing been restricted.
Walking towards the market, Rose's heels clicked on the pavement and she moved slightly to the left to allow a horse drawn carriage past her in the narrow street, the man on the carriage tipped his hat to her as a thank you gesture and she simply smiled at him. Rose had found the Parisians to be gracious with her, albeit a little curious as to why an American woman was alone in Paris and wearing clothes which obviously signaled that she wasn't of the working class, although she barely had a penny in her pocket. With the little money she did have, she had come to buy some dresses which were a little more working class, but that actually fit her perfectly.
The market stalls were set out in a line and were at least half a mile long on either side. It was lively and bustling with people collecting something for dinner from the vegetable and fruit stalls or a new dress from the clothing stalls. There were also clogs, hats, and handbags being sold, as well as meat and dairy products on the opposite side, but Rose rushed past the meat stall, not wishing to see the dead pigs hung upside down on a hook for very long, and the stench was even worse.
Reaching about halfway down the market street, a peach-colored dress caught Rose's attention. Smiling to herself, she walked over and greeted the elderly man who stood next to the dress and assumed he owned the stall. She greeted him with a small hello in French before admiring the dress. Removing her hat for a moment, she placed it on the edge of the stall and let herself take in the beauty of the dress. She had never been shopping for clothing on her own, let alone purchased anything she actually liked. She turned to the man, who had lit a cigarette, and began to think of the French she had been taught in finishing school, but her mind blanked.
“I…um…” Rose began, but then trailed off. She wished to ask about the price, but the man stared at her blankly. “Sir…the price? Money?” She gestured and the man smiled at her.
“I do speak English, although not very well.” He spoke in an almost unrecognizable French accent. “This is two francs.”
Rose smiled to herself. That was affordable for her. Maybe she would purchase the dress in another color. Glancing around, she found a similar dress in lavender, printed with a flower design over the bodice. “I will take these two,” she gestured. She had actually enjoyed finding something she liked alone. Lavender was a color her mother detested, while it was Rose's favorite color. Ruth had insisted the color didn't match Rose's hair color and skin tone, but to hell with it. Rose felt her independence shine through for the first time since she had begun work at the chicken factory.
“Four francs.” The old man smiled as she handed him the money, folded the dresses up, and placed them neatly in a box. Rose put her hat back on her head before thanking the man and finding her way back out of the market, dodging the meat stall once again. She couldn't wait to return home and show Jack her purchases. She had a feeling he would like them. She felt happy for the first time in a few weeks, and hoped she would stay that way now.
The walk home would be long and Rose felt the heat. She couldn't guess the time, as she had been out for most of the afternoon, but the walk home would be nice. She expected Jack to have returned by the time she was home, and Fabrizio was expected back a little after eight. Her feet ached from the heels she was wearing. Sighing, she removed her hat and put it on a wall nearby before taking a seat there. There weren't many people in this area, but it was peaceful.
A cool breeze came. Rose closed her eyes for a moment and let the wind wash over her and cool her down. Opening her eyes, she saw a man running as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn't have been. Frowning with curiosity, she followed his figure with her eyes until he dodged up an alleyway. She expected someone to follow him as if chasing him, but no one followed.
Picking up her hat, she placed it on her head, positioning it slightly to the left, and picked up her package before continuing her walk home. Quickening her pace, she attempted to remember the way she had come and finally found a small alley which led her in the direction of her home.
After a few minutes, she felt sure that someone was watching her, or worse yet, following her. She didn't dare to stop or look behind her for fear that her thoughts were correct. Feeling her heart beat quicker, she found her way out of the alley and continued her walk through the streets. She looked behind her just once to see if anyone was following her from the alley, but no one was.
She shook her head, assuming she had imagined it, although she was sure she had heard footsteps behind her. A few people passed her, but nothing out of the ordinary, so she continued her way through the streets of Paris until she reached the small alley which led her to the bar which Burns owned. She hurried, seeing that it would be dark soon. The sky shone different shades of blue, orange, and purple, and Rose stopped for a moment to take in the breathtaking view of the sky.
She felt the pins from her hair dig into her head, so she removed her hat and pulled the pins out. She heard faint footsteps near her, but before she could turn to see who they belonged to, she was forcefully pushed against the brick wall in the alley. The bricks scraped against her face and stung her skin. She tried to turn her body around to run, to escape, but she couldn't, and she felt the weight against her body holding her against the wall. She clung to her package tightly, not wanting to let it go. Her heart beat quickly, but she felt too shocked and scared to speak.
“I don't want to hurt you,” a familiar voice whispered to her, making her stomach churn. “Listen to what I have to say.” The grip on Rose loosened and she closed her eyes, feeling the bitter sting of tears. She turned her body slightly. She knew who was there. She just didn't wish to face him. A small gash on her face from where the brick had scraped her had appeared on her porcelain face and a small amount of blood flowed down her cheek. Opening her eyes, she saw him there—Caledon Hockley. He was dressed in a white suit and his hair was pomaded masterfully. She looked at him with nothing but hatred in her eyes.
“What are you doing in these parts, Cal? Isn't it going to ruin your reputation to be seen around here?” She almost spat at him.
“I haven't been seen. I have a carriage waiting for me. I have a proposition for you, Rose,” he offered. He eyed her clothing and she felt nauseous.
“And what is that?” She had heard his propositions before. They were meaningless to her.
“I want you to return home with me, Rose, to Philadelphia. Yes, that means you would not have to return to school, although it would be recommended after your behavior of late.” Cal reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a cigarette, placing it between his lips before lighting it with a match. The smoke from the match filled Rose's nostrils. She closed her eyes for a second.
“No, Cal. I no longer feel I have to oblige everything you say. You are not my fiancé, or my husband, nor will you ever be.” Opening her eyes, she watched Cal's pinched lips curve into a smirk.
“Miss DeWitt Bukater, I must remind you of the promise you made to me several months ago. In fact, and I quote, you said you would marry me when you had completed finishing school, but as you ran away months ago, that means you have left—which gives me the right to assume you are now my fiancée.”
Rose laughed hysterically. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. He wouldn't take no for an answer. He was a very rich businessman who was educated at Harvard, but still he couldn't get it into his head that she was not willing to marry him, now or ever. “No, Cal. I never was and never will be your property, so think what the hell you like. I have a life of my own now, and you are not included in it.” She attempted to barge past him, but he grabbed her arm, pulling her back towards him.
“How will you survive, Rose? You have no money, no husband, and no one to take care of you. How will you live, Rose? Become a whore at Satine's?”
Rose thought of Jack and Fabrizio and how gracious they had been, letting her stay with them. And Jack—her Jack, who she knew she loved dearly. But no. She would not give Cal the satisfaction of letting him know how she had survived the last few months. “No. I won't become a whore.” She spoke through gritted teeth, her hatred for him flaring up.
“Well, that's a shame. I actually stopped by the place yesterday to see if you were joining the girls.” He laughed at her, scraping his cigarette butt against the wall. Rose felt anger building up inside of her, bit by bit.
“In fact, I think you would be rather good in that profession. You have the beauty, the brains, the body…virginity still intact, I hope.”
He smirked, and she felt as though she had taken enough abuse from him. She brought her hand to his face and slapped him once before attempting to run away. He caught her arm and she struggled to escape his grip before an idea came to her. Quickly, she gathered saliva in her mouth and spat at Cal—landing straight in his eye. Before he had chance to think about what happened, she had run away out of sight.