MAKING LUCK
Chapter Three

Friday, April 12, 1912
RMS Titanic

Everything was going so, so wrong. This was not the way it was supposed to be. Cal was supposed to stop Rose from falling for Dawson, not stand by and let it happen! And he had meant to save the necklace for the engagement gala next week as originally planned, or perhaps present it to her on the Carpathia with some debonair line about how he couldn’t lose both his hearts--all right, that was stupid, but he was still working on it--and sweep her off her feet, but desperate times called for desperate measures. It would have to be tonight.

Cal didn’t even bother changing into his night things; he took the case and hid it behind his back as he entered Rose’s room. She was sitting in her lace dressing gown, just as before, her music box playing that childish tune. He knocked at the open door, smiling as he saw her. Her listless expression almost disheartened him. Almost. He came towards her and knelt beside her, taking both her hands in his. After shutting off that music box.

"I know that you haven’t been happy lately. I know now that I shouldn’t have been with you last night."

A slight flush arose on her cheeks. Her eyes dropped.

"I want to make it up to you." Cal released one of her hands and reached behind him for the box. "I was going to save this for the engagement gala next week. But I thought, given the present circumstances…tonight." He pulled back the lid and revealed the sparkling diamond. God, was it enormous. Alexandra would have killed for that rock.

Rose let out a little gasp. "Good gracious!" she exclaimed, her hand automatically reaching forward and touching it. He knew it; no woman could resist the lure of diamonds. No woman. Rose glanced up at him uncertainly. "Is it a…?"

"Diamond? Yes," Cal affirmed, unable to contain his smirk. He had her right where he wanted her now. He began to clasp it around her neck. "Fifty-six carats, to be exact. It was worn by Louis XVI and they called it le Coeur de la Mer."

"The Heart of the Ocean," they recited as one. Wait. This had happened last time. Perhaps…perhaps things weren’t going as according to plan as Cal had hoped…

"It’s overwhelming," Rose said truthfully. Her eyes seemed to sink.

Cal knelt again, trying to push down his worries. "You know that I love you, Rose. And I always will. You mean more to me than anything. This…" He fingered the diamond. "…is one of many, many things I can give you. Anything you want is yours."

She stared back at him; he could practically see her mind whirling. He smiled and rose, kissing her cheek. "Good night, Sweetpea."

He left her to her reflections, praying that he had ensnared her.

Saturday, April 13, 1912
RMS Titanic

Rose seemed happy the next morning, but one could never be certain with her. Cal made sure to be extra generous over breakfast, although it was difficult with Ruth’s frequent chatter.

"What are your plans for today, sweetpea?" Cal asked Rose when Ruth paused to draw breath.

Rose shrugged. "Oh, I don’t know; I was thinking of visiting the library. I’ve heard it’s quite exotic."

"Yes, Lucille was telling me that," Ruth jumped in. And she was off, prattling off a list of things Lady Duff-Gordon had said pertaining to the library and books in general. As soon as he could do so politely, Cal excused himself. He was half-afraid that a certain spectral someone would be waiting for him, but he found that, thankfully, this was not the case. He put on his tie and jacket and waited for Rose to finish dressing. He stood up from the couch when she came out of her room, garbed in a yellow and white dress.

"Ready, sweetpea?" he asked brightly, extending his arm.

Rose looked taken aback. "Oh, you’re…you’re coming, too?"

Cal was a little surprised as well, but he laughed it off. "Well, of course! Can’t let you wander around a ship alone, can I? We don’t want you slipping off the ship again!"

Rose pursed her lips; she had detected the underlying hostility in his tone. He kept his grin in place until she finally slipped her arm through his and allowed him to lead the way to the library.

It was a quiet morning; Ruth and Lady Duff-Gordon chattered softly in a corner while Rose sat perfectly still in a chair, reading Jane Eyre. Cal chose a book about law; that, at least, was something that held his interest. The morning passed quietly in this manner until a quarter ‘til twelve, when Ruth asked if Rose would like to come with her to freshen up before luncheon. Cal escorted them back to the stateroom, carefully watching Rose. She looked intensely bored; it was almost as if she had not wanted to go to the library at all. But Cal dispelled this notion from his mind and let the ladies go powder their noses and tighten their corsets or whatever it was that women did to freshen up.

Lunch was taken in the Palm Court again, this time with the Countess and her cousin Gladys. Cal desperately wished for another male to join the table, but none came. The conversation ranged over a variety of subjects, but there was one in particular that had the ladies giggling.

"Well, you’ll never believe this, but Gladys and I actually went slumming this morning!" the Countess declared, she and her cousin giggling shrilly.

"My heavens; did you really?" Ruth asked, stunned.

The Countess nodded, touching her napkin to her lips. "Oh, yes! I was quite shocked myself that I did such a thing!"

"It was my idea," Gladys supplied.

"You can really go slumming here?" Rose asked, perplexed.

Gladys nodded sagely. "Oh, most definitely. You just tell the men at the gates and they’ll let you through. And, of course, they’ll let you back up; they took one look at us and asked how we liked it!"

"And how was it?" Rose asked keenly.

The two cousins exchanged amused glances. "It was…interesting," the Countess finally replied. "But rather…smelly. I begged Gladys to come back before we could catch any diseases. That’s why they’re separated from us, you know."

Rose pursed her lips, furrowing her brow. Cal shrugged it off; he could care less about why they were separated from the steerage passengers. Just as long as they weren’t forced to mingle, that was quite all right with him. After further giggling, the subject changed to something else of little importance. Lunch finished and the women traipsed off to the reception room while Cal went in search of some masculine company. All of that gossip had nearly driven him insane. Predictably, his usual companions were in the billiards room.

"Ah…Hockley; finally shaken off the women, have you?" Ismay asked cheerfully.

"Yes, at last," Cal conceded. The other men chuckled heartily.

"Care to join us in a little game of cards?" Guggenheim asked, flipping the deck.

"Don’t mind if I do. And for God’s sake, someone get me a cigar," Cal said flippantly, settling into a chair.

*****

By three o’clock, cards had grown old and everyone was beginning to disperse, mainly to collect their wives or other ladies they were seeing for tea. Since Ruth was very prompt, Cal had a strong feeling she and Rose were probably already at their tea in the reception room. He announced where he would be to the others, should they need him later.

"Let me accompany you; I need to have a word with Captain Smith, and he usually takes his tea there about now," Ismay said, getting to his feet and straightening his jacket.

They departed the hazy room and stepped into fresh air, their lungs expanding gratefully as they did so. Cal didn’t particularly enjoy Ismay’s company; he could only take so much of the man at a time. Therefore, he was grateful to shake him off when Ismay spied Captain Smith at his tea. Cal quickly scanned the room and spotted Ruth sitting with the Countess and Gladys. He made his way towards them amidst more of their giggles.

"Afternoon, ladies," he greeted suavely.

"Good afternoon, Cal," they returned, beaming up at him. "Won’t you join us for tea?"

"Yes…but where is Rose?" he asked, noticing the fourth chair at their table was empty and no cup of tea was sitting there.

"Well, she went to have a lie-down shortly after we came here; I suppose she’s still sleeping," Ruth offered, only now starting to realize that she was unsure of her daughter’s whereabouts.

Cal smiled and nodded. "Thank you; I’ll just go and fetch her."

As he left, he heard the Countess remarking, "He’s such a gentleman; Rose is ever so lucky!"

Cal knocked on Rose’s stateroom, only to be met with Trudy. "Oh, Mr. Hockley, sir," she stammered, bobbing into a little curtsy.

"Is Rose here?" he asked, glancing at the room behind her.

Trudy shook her head. "I’m afraid not, sir. She hasn’t been here since breakfast."

Cal frowned; something was not adding up. "Since breakfast, you say?"

Trudy nodded, her gaze turning quizzical. "Well, yes, sir. She left with you and Mrs. DeWitt Bukater and she hasn’t been back since then. I don’t know where she is now, but I can look, if you’d like."

Cal shook his head. "No, that won’t be necessary." He turned to go but paused. "Have you seen Lovejoy?"

Trudy thought for a moment. "Yes…I believe he’s in the valet’s saloon taking his tea."

Cal sighed a little. "Thank you, Trudy." He strode briskly towards the valet’s saloon, hoping that someone was where they should be. He sent a steward in to fetch Lovejoy once he arrived; he wasn’t about to stoop to entering a dining saloon for servants. Within moments, Lovejoy swished out of the saloon, a somewhat surprised expression on his face.

"Mr. Hockley?"

Cal motioned for him to follow him. They walked down the hall. Cal glanced around and made sure they were not overheard. In a low voice, he said, "I have a feeling Rose is up to something. I left her with her mother after lunch, but Ruth is saying that just after that, Rose went back to the stateroom. The maid hasn’t seen her since we left this morning."

Lovejoy’s surprised expression gave way to one of calculation. "You suspect something."

"Obviously." Cal glanced around again. "I have a feeling, but I’d rather it not be true. Find her, but do not let her know you’re following her. See where she is, who she’s with. Find me in an hour."

"The Dawson fellow?" Lovejoy asked as Cal turned to go.

Cal paused. "Possibly." And he went on his way.

*****

Four o’clock found Cal in the stateroom, hazily reclining on the promenade deck. He had been hoping Rose would return, but no such luck. Lovejoy cleared his throat at the threshold to the promenade to announce his presence. Cal shifted and sat up straight. "Yes?"

Lovejoy stepped forward. "She’s with him."

Cal sighed. "And?"

Lovejoy shook his head. "They’ve just been walking around the deck, talking. Looks perfectly harmless."

Cal sighed again. "Well…I suppose that’s that, then." He thought for a moment. "What do you think Mrs. DeWitt Bukater would say if she knew Rose was walking around with a common boy?"

Lovejoy’s lip curled. "I think she’d be rather upset."

Cal smirked. "Yes. Yes, she would." He got to his feet. "I think I’ll say hello to my future mother-in-law."

As Cal made his way towards the deck, he contemplated his actions. He knew that it was cruel of him, but…well, what else was he supposed to do? He had to keep Rose away from Dawson at all costs, even if it meant acting like a slimeball.

"Mr. Hockley!"

Cal forced a smile as Ruth, the Countess, Gladys, and that dreadful Brown woman hailed him. "Hello again, ladies."

"You never showed up for tea; did you find Rose?" Ruth asked, looking somewhat concerned.

Cal shook his head. "No, I didn’t. But you know, her maid, Trudy, told me she never went back to the stateroom."

Ruth looked stunned. "Really?"

Cal nodded solemnly. "Yes. Isn’t that odd? I was hoping I might find her up here; Mr. Lovejoy said he spotted her earlier with Mr. Dawson." He paused for added effect. "The fellow from…well…last night."

Ruth’s lips tightened. "Oh. Well." She was flustered.

"If you’ll excuse me," Cal said, inclining his head and turning to leave. "It’s for the best, Hockley," he muttered as he heard the women erupt in a flurry of shocked whispers.

*****

When he returned to his stateroom sometime later, he was informed by Lovejoy that the ladies were already dressing for dinner. Cal went to do the same, waving off Lovejoy’s offer of assistance. He was dreading tonight, to be perfectly honest; he just knew that Dawson would monopolize the whole conversation and win everyone to his side with his street rat charms. He fully expected Ruthie to appear and tell him what to do--or what not to do; she did a lot of that, too--but she never showed. And so, when the time was right, Cal escorted the ladies to the dining room.

On the way, Rose halted. "Oh, no! I forgot my gloves!"

"Oh, really, Rose." Ruth sighed.

"Go on ahead, Mother," Rose urged, turning to run back to the stateroom.

"Well, I suppose she will catch up," Ruth said indifferently. "Let’s go on; I wanted to speak to Lucille about something."

That’s right; Ruth hadn’t seen Lucille all afternoon. Surely they had incredible gossip to swap. Cal obligingly walked with Ruth to the dining room, allowing her incessant chatter to fill up the silence. He wasn’t paying much attention; all he really had to do was to smile and nod and laugh at regular intervals. This worked well enough; Ruth preened as she thought he was listening.

As they descended the staircase, Ruth asked, "Where is my daughter?"

"Oh, she’ll be along," Cal assured her calmly. He glanced at the gentleman who was looking at him—and realized it was Dawson. He paused and his smile froze in place. "Dawson? I didn’t recognize you!"

Dawson gave an ironical little smirk and shrugged.

Cal wanted to punch him, but he had the feeling that might not go over so well. "Why, it’s amazing! You look as if you almost belong here!"

Dawson’s eyes betrayed the sting he felt at the statement, but he kept his smile in place. "Just about."

"How truly extraordinary," Cal mused aloud, turning his attention to the Countess. "Ah…Countess! How lovely to see you again!"

"Good evening, Cal," she returned as he kissed her hand. Ruth and the Countess began to gab almost immediately. Out of the corner of his eye, Cal saw Rose descend the stairs and meet Dawson at the bottom. He kissed her gloved hand and only an idiot would not be able to see the spark that had ignited there. Cal came forward and scooped Rose’s hand into the crook of his elbow almost immediately, before she had time to fall further under Dawson’s charm.

As their party descended into the dining room, Cal recognized more and more people and went to greet them. Over the course of the greetings, Rose’s hand somehow slipped out of his arm; when he turned to look for her, she was with Dawson, their heads bent confidentially. He moved to take her back, but he was hailed by Gracie and the opportunity slipped away.

"Cal’s a lucky man," Gracie noted, nodding at Rose. "I know him well, and it can only be luck."

Ruth appeared out of nowhere, taking Cal’s arm somewhat coquettishly. "How can you say that, Colonel? Caledon Hockley is a great catch!"

Although this initially annoyed Cal--Andrews was sitting in between Rose and Dawson, but the proximity still annoyed him--he soon became grateful for Ruth DeWitt Bukater.

"Tell us of the accommodations in steerage, Mr. Dawson. I hear they’re quite good on this ship," Ruth invited, her words dripping with an unfelt sweetness. Cal had forgotten about these bold words, but he was pleased at hearing them.

Dawson’s smile was tight. "The best I’ve seen, ma’am. Hardly any rats."

The table laughed lightly. Just to make sure they knew he hadn’t just been slumming, Cal added, "Mr. Dawson is from the third class. He was of some assistance to Rose last night." And just for good measure, Cal turned to Jack and spoke to him as if he were a child. "This is foie gras. It’s goose liver."

There were a few more smiles, but this time they were mixed with suspicious glances. Good.

"It turns out that Mr. Dawson is quite a fine artist," Rose chirped up. "He was kind enough to show me some of his work today."

Cal could barely restrain his rolling eyes. "Rose’s taste in art is a bit…different than mine. Although I’m sure your work is something to be admired," he added carelessly to Jack. He could barely hide his contempt for the rat. And speaking of which…Rose had to clear her throat—loudly—before Dawson realized he was supposed to put his napkin in his lap. The wretch. He turned his attention to the conversation at hand.

"His blood and soul are in the ship. She may be mine on paper," Ismay was saying, "but in the eyes of God, she belongs to Thomas Andrews. He knows every rivet in her, don’t you, Thomas?"

"Indeed," Andrews admitted, chuckling in a slightly embarrassed fashion.

"Your ship is a wonder, Mr. Andrews, truly," Rose assured him. Cal nearly scoffed; this wonder of a ship would be at the bottom of the Atlantic in a few days.

"Thank you, Rose," Andrews replied—he, too, had fallen under her spell. Cal would have to rethink showing her off so much.

"How do you take your caviar, sir?" a waiter asked Dawson.

Seizing the opportunity, Cal jumped in with, "Just a soupcon of lemon." He smirked at Dawson patronizingly. "It improves the flavor with champagne."

"No caviar for me, thanks," Dawson spoke up in his loud, Midwest drawl. "Never did like it much."

Cal’s distaste was shared by a pursed-lipped Ruth. "And where exactly do you live, Mr. Dawson?"

"Well, right now my address is the R.M.S. Titanic; after that, I’m on God’s good humor," Dawson confessed. Did his tactlessness know no bounds?

"And how is it you have means to travel?" Ruth asked in a would-be interested voice.

"I work my way from place to place—you know, tramp steamers and such. But I won my ticket on Titanic here in a lucky hand at poker." He paused for a beat. "A very lucky hand."

"All life is a game of luck!" Gracie spoke up, glancing around for approval.

Cal shook his head slightly. "Mmm…a real man makes his own luck. Isn’t that right, Dawson?"

If Dawson was sick of the condescending treatment, he never let on; he just made a noise of assent.

"And you find that sort of rootless existence appealing, do you?" Ruth asked, her voice positively dripping with disgust.

Dawson looked ruffled, but he regained his composure after a moment. "Well, yes, ma’am, I do. I mean, got everything I need right here with me. Got air in my lungs and a few blank sheets of paper. I mean, I love waking up in the morning not knowing what’s going to happen or who I’m gonna meet." He tore off a chunk of bread and continued to talk through it. Disgusting. "Where I’m gonna wind up. Just the other night I was sleeping under a bridge, and now here I am, on the grandest ship in the world, having champagne with you fine people."

The others gave agreeable laughs over this as he motioned for the waiter to refill his glass.

"I figure life’s a gift, and I don’t intend on wasting it." He took a sip of champagne. Well, a slurp, more like. "You never know what hand you’re gonna get dealt next. You learn to take life as it comes at you. To make each day count."

"Well said, Jack," the Brown woman said admiringly. Cal couldn’t help rolling his eyes.

"Hear, hear!" Gracie declared.

And before Cal could recall what happened last time and stop her, Rose raised her glass in a toast. "To making it count." Her eyes were sparkling as they found Jack.

The others raised their glasses and chorused, "To making it count!"

"Bravo!" Gracie added.

How had this gone so wrong? How did Cal let this happen a second time? It was bad enough that he had invited Jack to dinner in the first place; now, history was repeating itself, but always to his disadvantage. Fate was mocking him. He would have to have a word with that insufferable girl soon. At least Cal could prevent Rose from going to the party tonight. He hadn’t forgotten about that, at least.

But as dinner progressed, Jack said less and less until Cal almost forgot he was there. Others chimed in with bits of trivia, gradually putting the conversation through a wide variety of subjects. Cal’s elaborate plan to keep Rose away--which had been going very nicely until he became distracted--was stored away. He was actually even enjoying himself in the rat’s presence; he even found the Brown woman’s stories entertaining tonight.

"Well, Mr. Brown had no idea I’d hidden the money in the stove!" She laughed, the others joining in. "So he comes home drunk as a pig, celebrating, and he lights a fire!" The whole table laughed with Mrs. Brown, although she probably found it more amusing than anyone else.

Cal saw Rose leaning forward and whispering to Jack out of the corner of his eye. He was about to turn her attention towards him when Gracie got to his feet and suggested, "Well, join me for a brandy, gentlemen?"

"Oh, yes, splendid idea," they agreed, getting to their feet as well.

"Ladies, thank you for the pleasure of your company," Ismay said graciously, grinning at them all.

Cal leant down to talk to Rose. "Rose, darling, I’ll escort you back to the stateroom now."

A flicker of resentment flashed across her face. Damn it. "No, I’ll stay here."

Cal clenched his teeth. "Rose, I really think you ought to go back to the stateroom."

Rose was full-on glaring at him now, no doubt about it. "And I really think I don’t want to."

Cal opened his mouth to argue, but he overheard Gracie asking, "Joining us, Dawson? Well, you don’t want to stay out here with the women, do you?"

"No, thanks. I’ve gotta be heading back," Jack replied politely.

"Ah…" Gracie acknowledged, waving a hand. The man was already tipsy.

"Yes. Your curfew is soon, isn’t it?" Cal asked in a low voice, smirking. He patted Jack on the back rather harder than was necessary. He knew he was acting rather childish, but he was willing to do whatever was necessary to discourage him from Rose.

Jack looked annoyed, to say the least; he stood rooted to the spot, glaring as Cal walked away. It wasn’t until he was halfway to the smoking room that he realized he hadn’t stopped Rose. Damn, damn, damn!

Chapter Four
Stories