EVERYTHING’S NOT LOST
Chapter Five

"Alright, now Miss Andrews, just hold onto the bedpost and I’m going to tie you in." Oh, Mary. The woman who feels the need to call me Miss Andrews—my father paying her aside, I suppose she thinks calling me by a proper name is a part of the job requirement.

"Mary, please, not too tight," I begged as I gripped the shiny oak bedpost.

"Don’t you want to look nice for that nice gentleman?" I could care less.

"I just want to be able to breathe." She’s going to kill me with this corset. As she began to tighten up the laces from the bottom of my back to the top, she kept on squeezing the laces together to make them even tighter than before. I gasped every time she did that.

"Now, take in a deep breath!" she said out of nowhere as she tied the top lace. I can barely breathe—I should’ve expected it. I managed to get a gasp of air here and there and turned, leaning against the bedpost as Mary went towards the closet. "Is that okay, Miss Andrews?" I managed a slight nod. Corsets are supposed to give you a flawless silhouette, but turning purple and collapsing is not a good look. Oh, no, my mother’s quote is coming back to me…Mary opened up the closet and shuffled through my collection of dresses. "Which one would you like?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder at me.

"I don’t know," I answered truthfully, shrugging a shoulder. "Which one do you think?" She bit her lower lip in thought as she rummaged through the dresses. She gestured to a beaded red and black number, one that I haven’t worn in ages, the one with a train. Dress trains and I really need to learn how to cooperate in a civil manner.

"How about this?" she asked.

"That’s perfect." She smiled, proud of herself, as she took it off the hanger and began to unhook the hooks in the back of the dress.

"I think it’ll look just fantastic with that silver necklace you have and the matching earrings and…" As she continued talking, I didn’t bother to listen. This woman really ought to become a seamstress. She gestured for me to step into the dress and I did, putting my arms into the proper holes as Mary gathered up the dress from behind and began to hook it back together again. Getting dressed is like putting a life-size puzzle together. It’s like a torture sentence. Between the corset and the dress, I’d rather be in third class.

"Done?" I asked after what felt like an eternity. She nodded, turning me around.

"Sure am. This dress is so beautiful." She gestured to my hair. "Good thing we did your hair beforehand, huh?" I managed a smile as Mary fixed the train trailing behind me. I went towards my bureau and searching through two drawers, I found my white gloves. I slid my hands through them, fixing them on my arm to make sure they’re perfect.

"What jewelry did you think…?" my voice trailed off as I began to dig through my jewelry box. I wish I knew how to listen.

"The silver necklace." I pulled out one of many silver necklaces and held it up for her to see.

"This one?"

"No, no, this one had diamonds on the pendent."

"Isn’t that a little flashy, Mary?" I suddenly asked. She giggled.

"Well, you need to look your best. That gentleman—"

"Oh, Mary, please don’t." She stopped.

"I don’t think it’s flashy," she decided a few seconds after closing her mouth. "You need to look your best—you’re the Master Shipbuilder’s daughter, after all." She paused. "You represent the ship, indirectly." Great, my mother got to Mary! That sounds like something she would absolutely say.

"Alright, alright," I said, placing the necklace back and finding another with the diamonds on the ornament. "This?" She nodded as I handed it to her. I can’t even lift my arms above my head—I am officially helpless without her. She snapped it onto my neck as I searched for those earrings. Did she say they were green? Why do I remember her saying something about green earrings?

"The matching earrings, Miss Andrews," she said after I sighed from frustration, unable to find these supposed green earrings.

"Oh!" I managed a laugh, the diamond earrings right in front of me. I clipped the left on and as I opened the clasp for the right, someone was knocking at my door.

"He’s early," Mary whispered into my ear. He sure is—twenty minutes early!

"My father wouldn’t have let him in this far," I concluded. "Would you please get the door?" I asked of her, attempting to put the second earring on. She nodded, checking the dress to make sure she had hooked everything properly before going to the door.

"Ann, it’s me," rang my father’s voice through the door. "Can I come in?"

"Sure!" Mary opened the door and my father walked in, all dolled up in his usual tuxedo, ready for dinner. He adjusted his suit jacket as he made his way towards me.

"Mr. Andrews, please—" Mary gestured to the train on the floor. Thank goodness for mirrors, I can see everything. He stepped to the right of the train as I turned to face him, still trying to get the earring into place.

"Oh, Antoinette," my father said. "You look beautiful."

"It was Mary’s choice for the dress," I said, gesturing to her. "She has good taste." I sighed angrily, this earring not cooperating.

"Miss Andrews, you’re going to break it!" Mary said, as she brushed past my father, taking the earring out of my hand before I could cause it any due harm. She placed it onto my ear with perfection, along with its’ proper backing. "There." I turned to the mirror, straightened them slightly, then turned back to my father. "Will you be needing anything else, Miss Andrews?" I shook my head.

"I’ll ring for you after dinner," I said, with a slight smile. She disappeared out of my bedroom and out of sight.

"You look wonderful," my father said simply as he fiddled with his tie. "I am so glad you decided to come to dinner, after all." Did I mention I haven’t told him about my little invitation from Harold Lowe earlier today? Well, I haven’t. I suppose being late is better than never telling him at all.

"Actually, Daddy, I’ve got a date." That’s the only reason I’m coming to this frill-feast known as a first-class dinner. He smiled at me, that half-smile he always does.

"Oh, really? Who?" He paused. "Did Will ask you?" Will…? Oh, he means Will Murdoch! I shook my head.

"No, no, Harold did." He smiled even wider this time.

"Lowe?" he asked skeptically. I nodded.

"Why? Is that a bad thing?"

"No, honey, I think it’s great." Well, it’s an excuse to go to dinner, one way or the other. "Really, I do." I suppose I gave him a skeptical glance when he first said he thought the whole idea was great. "Now, I suppose I know where you were this morning—" He thinks I was with Harold!?

"Daddy, I was not with him. I was roaming the deck."

"Sure, Ann, sure."

"Well, I was!" He laughed, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"I know you were, darling. I was just kidding." That’s when there was a knock on the door. My father pulled out his pocket watch before glancing up at me.

"He’s early," he murmured under his breath.

"How early?" I asked, taking the watch from his hand. He’s almost thirty minutes early! I’m barely ready as it is.

"I hope it’s not someone for me," my father sighed as I handed him back the pocket watch.

"I’ll get it," I decided, picking up my dress’s train in one hand and going towards the suite’s door. Swinging the door open, was a turned officer, his back to me. Oh, it must be Harry. "Hello?" I asked him, unsure of what else to say. Turning abruptly around, there stands Will, holding his hat in his hand before placing it under his arm. He stopped suddenly, eyeing me from the floor up. He looked like he gulped. Oh, come now, it’s just a dress.

"Miss Andrews." He slightly bowed.

"Really, Antoinette is fine." I took a step outside the door.

"Of course. Then, I suppose it’s Will to you, too." I’ve already been calling him Will in my own little world since I met him. Oops. I managed a nod as he cleared his throat. "I wanted to speak with you this morning, but you so abruptly left that I never got the chance. And you try finding someone aboard this large ship without any idea of where you’re going and…I’m sorry. I’m getting off-topic here…What I wanted to ask you..."

"Which was what?" I asked.

"I know we’re all going to be together, anyway, but I was wondering if you’d like to go to dinner with me. I know it’s short notice." He sounded so hopeful, I don’t want to crush his spirits. "Maybe?" My face must’ve dropped because he already looks disappointed.

"Will, I—" I bit my lower lip as he nodded.

"That’s what I figured." He looks heartbroken.

"No, no, Harold already asked and I…accepted."

"Oh." He hesitated. "Well, then, I’ll see you at dinner."

"I—I’m sorry, Will, I—" He shrugged a shoulder, managing a laugh.

"Don’t worry about it," he said, as if this whole incident never actually happened. "You look beautiful, by the way. Very beautiful." With that, he turned and walked out of sight after a moment or so. Oh. I leaned against the doorway, placing a hand over my corseted middle. I feel absolutely awful. I took in a sharp breath, the best I could with this dumb corset, looking down the hall Will had walked down. He was completely gone.

"Ann, who was at the door?" my father’s voice came from behind me. I can’t move. Oh, why do I feel so awful? The look on Will’s face alone could’ve made me cry for him. I suppose there’s always going to be tomorrow’s dinner, lunch and breakfast, but rejection is the worst thing for anyone—especially one looking for a woman to carry on the arm. My father made his way to my side, keeping his eyes on me. "Antoinette, who was at the door?" I can’t look at him. I kept my eyes focused on the hallway. "Ann." I finally realized I had no choice but to look at him, so I turned to face him, keeping myself against the doorway.

"Wrong room," I said softly.

"What?"

"Someone thought this was A12, instead of 32. Wrong room." He raised an eyebrow at me.

"Really?" he asked, unsure of me. "Well, you ought to go finish getting ready. Harold could be here any minute, you know." Harold, right. "It’s almost seven." I nodded as I brushed past him, back into the suite. He is right, but now looking William Murdoch in the eye will be incredibly difficult. Avoiding eye contact is something I am thankfully good at. "Looking one in the eye is very important for a woman in society." Oh, Mother, shut up!

Chapter Six
Stories