ROSE DEWITT BUKATER BEFORE TITANIC
Chapter Seven
March 1, 1912
Rose stood between
Ruth and Cal, looking up at the Mauritania. It was a beautiful ship, she had to
admit, but now she wished that she were anywhere else.
In the past, Rose
had longed to go to Europe, but parents rarely brought their children along on
their trips overseas, so she had always had to stay behind in the care of her
nursemaid or governess. When she had grown older, and her parents would have
allowed her to accompany them, her father had been too ill to travel, and then
he had died. It would have been improper to set off on a trip so soon after a
death in the family—they were supposed to be in mourning, though Rose doubted
that her mother had truly mourned much. It was still too soon for the two of
them to set off on such a trip, but Rose’s engagement to Cal was the perfect
excuse to come out of mourning.
Now, however, Rose
wished that the trip had never been planned. She was still mourning her
father, even if her mother couldn’t wait to forget him, and she wanted no part
of the trip or of her engagement to Cal.
Rose had argued to
her mother that it was improper to go on the trip to Europe less than a year
after her father’s death, but Ruth had informed her that an engagement was a
happy occasion, one to be celebrated, and that she was a fine one to talk about
things being proper or improper. They were going, and Rose would be cheerful
and enjoy the trip—or at least pretend to, whether she felt like it or not.
Ruth would allow no further argument on the subject.
And so Rose walked
up the gangway beside Cal, her mother close behind them, with the three
servants who were accompanying them following. Their luggage—which included
expensive new wardrobes for both Ruth and Rose—had already been put on board by
the baggage handlers, with the maids, Trudy and Sophie, carrying those items
too delicate or valuable to be entrusted to someone else.
Rose’s arm was
linked with Cal’s, feeling as though it were chained to him. The engagement
ring was heavy on her left hand, even with the gaudy diamonds hidden beneath
her glove. Her elegant gray suit fit her corseted figure tightly, allowing no
room to relax or breathe deeply, and the fashionable hobble skirt required her
to take tiny, mincing steps.
At least the color
matched how she felt, she thought, as Cal presented their tickets and a steward
showed them to their rooms. They had taken three rooms, with separate quarters
for the servants. Rose’s heart dropped when she realized that her room was
right next to Cal’s, and then pounded wildly in fear as she saw that the rooms
were joined. Her mother’s room was next door to Cal’s, but was not adjoining.
Rose was at Cal’s mercy.
As Rose stared at
the door that joined their rooms, she wished desperately that there was a way
to lock him out—but he had the key, and she did not. If only there was less
space, or money, and she had to share her room with Trudy—Cal wouldn’t dare
approach her with her maid present. But she was alone in her room, with no one
to come to her defense, and if she tried to speak out against Cal, she would
only be accused of inappropriate behavior—for why would such a well-respected
gentleman take a lady against her will?
Maybe, Rose thought
desperately, the adjoining rooms were just a coincidence, and Cal had no
intention of coming to her room late at night. But as Cal stepped into her
room, ostensibly to make sure she was comfortable, and looked meaningfully
between her and the door joining their rooms, she knew that she would already be
paying for this trip, whether she liked it or not.