SHIP OF DREAMS
Chapter Three

Anne wandered through foreign corridors, which all seemed identical to her. She had wanted to be above on the boat deck to watch the Titanic depart Southampton; she had wanted to see Southampton fade away for good. But at this rate, she wouldn’t even make it to the boat deck by dinner. Finally, she decided to follow a few other first class passengers, but soon realized that they had no intention of going to the boat deck with the uncouth passengers who would surely be making fools out of themselves, waving their arms and yelling to the crowds below. However, Anne found the Grand Staircase quickly enough, and decided that it must lead to the boat deck.

A few minutes later, Anne found herself on the crowded boat deck, but found too many people for her liking. She glanced around once or twice and turned to leave. However, screams pierced the air a few moments later, and someone said something about a near collision with another ship. The action caused her to stay a bit longer, and she gasped when she noticed someone. No...it can’t be her. Stop it. You’re getting yourself upset over nothing. Just stay here...she’s bound to look this way sooner or later, and then you can be certain and travel in peace. Just keep watching...keep watching...there! See? It wasn’t her at all. Anne’s heart rate resumed to normal a few seconds later. However, she had decided that she had had enough excitement for one day, and retired from the boat deck.

A bugle sounded just as soon as the Titanic was underway, announcing that lunch was being served. However, Anne found herself with a lack of appetite, and returned to her stateroom to finish unpacking her belongings.

Lunchtime came and went, and Anne did not emerge from her stateroom. She stayed hidden away inside the room, partially out of fear of getting lost on her way to the library, or even the lavatory, and partially out of fear of discovering that they really were on board. She was on a ship; there were only so many places one could hide. You’re making a fool of yourself, Anne Stewart! Are you going to let her control your life again? She probably isn’t even on board. Chiding herself for being such a coward, Anne departed her stateroom and went in search of a female stewardess who could help her tie her corset as she prepared for dinner.

"Tight enough, Miss?" A young woman with blonde hair fixed in a tight bun at the nape of her neck looked at Anne’s reflection in the mirror.

"A little tighter, if you please," Anne instructed, taking in another breath. She was certain that all of her years of wearing corsets had deformed her ribcage. She would have been quite surprised if they hadn’t. "Thank you."

"Will you be needing anything else, Miss?" the stewardess asked.

"Well..." Anne’s voice trailed off as she glanced down at the assortment of ribbons and ornamental hairpins scattered across the table. "No, thank you."

"Are you sure? I’ve nothing to do at the moment," the stewardess kindly said, and Anne asked if she wouldn’t mind styling her hair. "Not in the least! I used to be a hairstylist, you know. But hard times came upon my family...and now, here I am!"

Anne listened as the young woman rambled on about her family and her hairstyling business, nodding every once in a while to show that she was listening. By the time her hair was piled atop her head, fastened with a length of thick, pale blue ribbon and silver pins, Anne had learned that the woman’s name was Megan, and that she hailed from London. She also learned that Megan had a younger brother and two younger sisters; her father had passed away when Megan was fifteen, and her mother was very ill.

"Thank you, Megan." Anne smiled, grateful for the help. "I’ll pray for your family."

"Thank you, Miss." Megan’s eyes watered. She had never met a first class passenger quite like the one she had just befriended, and wondered if there weren’t more kind souls out there in the world who were well established. "Well, you’d best be getting to dinner. Don’t want to be late now, do you?"

"I suppose not." Anne faintly smiled. She departed her stateroom, making her way to the dining saloon.

Oh! Anne’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of the dining saloon. It was quite sophisticated, and seemed to run the length of the ship. And at every near table that Anne could see, at least two people were seated, or standing near the chairs, gossiping. Where am I to sit? Who am I to sit with? I don’t know these people; I could sit next to someone of extreme importance! She recalled hearing someone mention that a John Jacob Astor and his wife had boarded the ship at Cherbourg, where they had docked shortly after dinner began. According to gossip, he was the wealthiest man on board. And then there was Sir Cosmo and Lady Duff Gordon, who were apparently traveling as Mr. and Mrs. Morgan because of some troubles with the US Customs. What if I sit next to one of them? My word, I could make a fool of myself! Of course, I look perfectly normal just standing here. Anne felt her neck grow warm as a blush formed, and she quickly found a seat, not caring who else was sitting at the table.

A steward approached the table a moment later, filling Anne’s wine glass. She smiled politely, thanking him. Her gaze returned to the darkly hued liquid in the sparkling glass, and she gracefully lifted it and brought it to eye level, staring into the wine. The fruity fragrance wafted to her nose, and she smiled. But just as soon as the smile had appeared, it disappeared. There, through her wine glass, Anne could see the figures of two people she’d been trying to forget--Ruth DeWitt Bukater and her daughter, Rose.

Stunned, Anne dropped the glass from her fingers. It landed on the table and partially smashed, sending wine everywhere. Anne glanced down at the dark stains on the bodice of her gown, then up again. As though in slow motion, she saw Ruth slowly turn her head towards her, Rose escorted by a rather haughty looking dark-haired gentleman. Without giving Ruth a chance to recognize her, Anne rose from her chair so quickly it tipped over. Feeling the blush on her throat grow redder and redder, she ran past the wealthy socialites scattered around the room, her eyes fixed on the doors.

A moment later, Anne burst through the doors, bringing gasps from startled women. She knew that they thought her odd and brazen, but she had to get away. She ran up the Grand Staircase as quickly as her dress and shoes would allow, bursting out to the open deck. She glanced up and down the deck, but very few people were around. Most were in the dining saloon, eating lavish dinners and discussing topics that no one would remember next month. She was alone. No, not quite. A couple was slowly strolling up the way towards her, and would be upon her in a few minutes. No, she wanted complete privacy. She turned away from the couple, running...where, she didn’t know. She ascended to the next deck, running to get away.

Suddenly, she rounded a corner and ran into something hard and solid. She cried out in surprise and closed her eyes, prepared to hit the ground rather brutally. But seconds passed, and she didn’t fall. She slowly opened her eyes, and found him steadying her. Officer Murdoch. Concern clearly displayed itself on his usually composed face, and his eyes were slightly wide with worry and surprise.

"Are you all right?" Murdoch softly asked as he watched a lone tear trail down Anne’s face. "What’s the matter?" He looked past her, expecting to see some madman ready to assault her. Then he saw the wine stains, and mistook them for blood. "Blimey! What’s happened?"

Anne vehemently shook her head, upset to learn that she hadn’t escaped them, angry with herself for losing her composure, frightened to have run into him again. She felt his eyes on her, and wondered if he thought her a complete lunatic. She knew she had put him in an awkward situation, which only upset her further. She blinked back more tears that stung her eyes, determined to let no more than one slip out. Another tear slipped out. Two.

Murdoch stared down at the girl. His heart softened slightly for her. She had seemed so friendly, so vivacious the day before. What had caused her to suddenly be so vulnerable, so unhappy? Still, he had no idea what to do, and stared down at her for a few seconds; his hands still gripped her forearms from a few moments earlier. He realized that it wasn’t blood on her dress, and he released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He slowly pulled her close, pushing away the discomfort and awkwardness he felt. He lowered his head instinctively, resting his cheek on the top of her head, gently stroking her hair.

"It...it will be all right," Murdoch softly whispered, uncertain of what to say. What did one say to comfort a distraught girl?

Anne sniffled daintily. She shook her head slightly against his broad chest, the material of his greatcoat warm against her cheek from his body heat. She slowly closed her eyes, another tear squeezing out from an eyelid, dark eyelashes glistening with tears. Suddenly, her eyes shot open. My heavens! What am I doing? She felt a strong hand stroking her hair softly. She felt his chest rise and fall as he breathed; she heard the vibrations as he talked. And she hardly knew him. Such a breach of protocol! What am I doing? This time, it was more a statement than a question. Suddenly, she pushed away from him. He stood there, looking confused and a bit awkward. Anne shook her head.

"I-I’m sorry. I..." Her voice trailed off. She slowly backed away, then turned and ran. Good work, Anne! At this rate, you’ll have befriended everyone on the ship by the time we reach Queenstown tomorrow!

She hugged a flagpole at the stern. It was cold and biting against her bare arms, and she could feel it through the thin dress, which fit her like her own skin. She leaned her head against it, more and more hair falling from the pins and ribbons that had secured it not long ago. Such elaborate styles were not meant to withstand hysterical running or the wind of the sea. Idiot, Anne. Such an idiot. What were you thinking? Ha! That’s just it; you weren’t thinking. First, you get lost no matter where you go. Next, you see Ruth and Rose. Then, you make quite a spectacle in front of Officer Murdoch.

"You’re an idiot," Anne said aloud with disdain. "A complete and total idiot. My goodness, it’s no wonder Ruth wanted to get rid of you."

"You’re not an idiot, and anyone wanting to get rid of you is insane." Anne jumped with a gasp and turned to see Officer Murdoch standing a few yards behind her, hands clasped behind his back. He gently smiled, slowly approaching her. He had followed her, had watched her grab the flagpole as though it were her only constant in a quickly crumbling world. His footsteps became silent when he heard her sniffle once or twice, and he occasionally saw her shoulders shake slightly. He didn’t know if it was due to the cold or crying.

"I-I-I didn’t know you were there," was all she could say; she raised her hand to her throat, feeling for her locket. How long had he been standing there? She could faintly see the darker spot on his greatcoat, where her tears had soaked into the material.

"Here." Murdoch stepped forward with a handkerchief and dried her tears.

"I’m sorry," Anne whispered a few moments later, but Murdoch hushed her.

"It’s all right; there’s no need to apologize." Murdoch faintly smiled, still troubled by her loss of composure. "Shall we sit?" He motioned to a nearby bench. When he saw Anne’s head faintly nod, he placed his hand at the small of her back, ushering her to the bench. "Are you cold?" She shook her head, but a quick glance at the goosebumps on her arms told him otherwise. He unbuttoned his greatcoat, draping it around her. It engulfed her and swallowed her, making her appear all the more vulnerable and insecure. He considered asking her what was troubling her, but the thought of bringing another onslaught of tears told him to keep his mouth shut. Instead, he pulled her a bit closer to him for warmth, and they stared at the stars in silence.

"I saw her today," Anne finally said when she regained her composure, and Murdoch glanced over at her in surprise. "I saw my stepmother and my stepsister; I think my stepsister was with her fiancé. I haven’t seen them in over ten years; I have no idea how I recognized them, but I knew. I’m going to be stuck on this ship with them; I’ll be forced to be with them the entire journey to New York."

"The ship’s large enough," Murdoch reassured her. "There’s a great chance that you won’t see them again."

"I saw you again, didn’t I? Besides, I have to dine with them every single day for every single meal. Not necessarily at their table, mind you, but in the same room. They’re bound to see me at some point," Anne explained, her voice still slightly thick with emotion.

"I take it you haven’t eaten yet, then?" Murdoch asked after a few seconds of silence. He felt her shake her head against his shoulder. "Then, let’s eat. I haven’t eaten, either."

"You aren’t...on watch?" Anne softly asked, afraid he’d say he was, but for some reason, even more afraid he’d say that he wasn’t.

"It’s time for dinner," Murdoch replied, without answering Anne’s question directly, leaving her to wonder if he was or was not on duty. He slowly rose from the bench, offering her his hand. When she looked at him warily, he reassured her with, "Don’t worry. You won’t have to eat with them. You can eat in the crew’s mess with me and the others. It’ll just be the officers, and I assure you that they’re not the rude and vulgar snobs some of the first class passengers can be. No offense meant to you."

"None taken. But I don’t want to get you in trouble or impose," Anne quickly said, shaking her head, ignoring the growling in her stomach. She accepted his hand and he helped her to her feet.

"You’re not imposing," Murdoch replied, offering her his arm. "Besides, if your stomach is any indicator, I’d say you’re hungry."

"Oh," Anne replied. What about the getting in trouble part? Just the same, she placed one hand in the crook of his elbow, the other fingering her locket, and they walked toward the crew’s mess.

"Evening, Murdoch," a rather young, handsome man greeted his superior as he entered the room. He did a double-take when he noticed the young woman Murdoch was escorting. Out of politeness, he closed the book he was reading and rose from the table. "Good evening...Miss...?"

"Stewart," Anne meekly replied. "Anne Stewart."

"Miss Stewart." The young man nodded with a smile, noticing her slightly red eyes, Murdoch’s greatcoat, and the stern look being delivered by the First Officer. He skirted the table and nodded in acknowledgment. "It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Stewart. I am Sixth Officer James Moody."

"The pleasure is all mine, Officer Moody." Anne delivered another genuine smile, shaking his hand. "Please, call me Anne."

"If you insist." Moody grinned despite the breach in protocol; he spoke with a slight Welsh accent. "You must call me James, then."

"Of course." Anne nodded. Moody appeared to be only a year or two older than her, and she felt awkward being addressed as Miss by anyone, especially someone her age.

"What are we having?" Murdoch asked Moody, who had already walked back to his chair, but waited for Anne to sit first. Murdoch helped her out of his greatcoat, laying it on another table. He removed his cap and set it on the table atop the coat. Then, he pulled out a chair for Anne, who seemed somewhat surprised at the gesture.

"I heard something about plaice and vegetables." Moody shrugged as Anne sat.

"Coffee or tea?" Murdoch asked, sitting down to Anne’s left, across from Moody, and it took a few seconds for Anne to realize he was talking to her. He smiled when she glanced over at him.

"Oh, sorry." Anne shook her head. "Tea, please."

Murdoch smiled, rising from his chair. He disappeared into the kitchen, only to return a moment later with two pots, one of coffee and one of tea. He set them down again, returning to the kitchen for milk and sugar.

"And what do you think of Mr. Holmes?" Murdoch heard Anne ask Moody as he poured her a cup of tea, clearly more at ease and comfortable around him. "Oh, you don’t have to do that for me."

"It’s all right." Murdoch smiled again, confused by the woman. One moment she was refined and the quintessence of first class, and the next she made it seem as though pouring a simple cup of tea was the greatest sacrifice of all. "I don’t mind."

"Oh, he seems quite proper and formal, and maybe a bit dull." Moody glanced over at his copy of The Hound of the Baskervilles, and then at Murdoch. "A bit like Will here." However, he quickly averted his glance to Anne, who was trying to hide a smile. "Have you read it?"

"Oh, yes. Several times, actually." Anne nodded with a smile, not daring to look over at Murdoch, who she knew was boring holes into Moody with his eyes; she fixed her gaze instead on Moody, and the two communicated laughter with their eyes.

"Well, at least I’m not a bloody romantic," Murdoch said as he poured himself a cup of coffee, then apologized to Anne for his language.

"At least I’m more of a gentleman around ladies. I would never dream of offending a lady like that!" Moody teasingly feigned surprise.

"All right, gentlemen. I’d rather arrive in New York in one piece, and that’s not going to work if two of our officers are at each others’ throats all the time." Anne softly laughed, stirring her tea.

"Right, then." Murdoch sighed, stirring two lumps of sugar into his steaming cup of coffee. "Sorry."

Anne gently smiled, slightly amused. She turned her head to look over at Murdoch a moment before turning back to her tea. A companionable silence ensued, Murdoch and Anne stirring their drinks, Moody reading the last sentence of the page before closing the book.

"So, Anne, what’s your story?" Moody asked, breaking the silence.

"My...story?" Anne asked, confused.

"Why are you on this grand ship?" Moody asked, swinging his arm in an arc that engulfed the room. "Meeting your husband in America? Returning home?"

"Oh. Well..." Anne’s voice trailed off as she tried to think of the most concise way to explain her reasons. Murdoch began to change the subject, fearful of upsetting her, but Anne cut him off. "I’m not married. I’ve never even had a suitor." She feebly laughed, shaking her head. She’d never admitted that to anyone, and now she was telling men she’d known for less than forty-eight hours. "I live in Pennsylvania. Or rather, I once did. I spent a great deal of my childhood, and actually my life, at Barclay Academy, either as a student or a tutor. A family in Pennsylvania needed a governess, and their request was sent to Barclay. I was suggested, and the family agreed. So, here I am."

"Interesting, though I can’t imagine you’ve never been courted. So, do you know what the family’s like?" Moody asked.

"Well, from what I’ve heard, they’re quite nice...for a family of high social standing." Anne grinned; she decided not to continue with the conversation regarding her marriage status. "The couple has three children, two boys and a girl. The parents would have liked their children to have attended finishing school, but they couldn’t find a school they liked enough."

"Barclay is a fine school! I’ve only ever heard good things about it." Moody nodded. "I’m sure your parents are proud to say that you’ve not only graduated, but also taught there, as well!"

Barclay, a fine school? Obviously, you’ve never spoken with a student of Barclay. Then again, maybe I was the only one who truly detested it. Anne smiled politely when Moody finished. Little did he know he was treading on shaky ground, talking about her parents. She lowered her head and stared into her tea.

"Yes, I’m sure they are," Murdoch said; he watched Anne raise her eyes and look over at him, gratitude in her eyes. "Well, I wonder when dinner will be served. I’ll go check."

Just as Murdoch rose, a steward appeared, bearing a tray of food. However, he stopped abruptly upon noticing Anne at the table. He blushed slightly, as though just now realizing that he had two plates of food when there were indeed three people.

"I told you a third would be joining us!" Murdoch exclaimed.

"Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir. I-I forgot." The steward quickly set the tray down on the table, then turned to go for another plate.

"Wait," Anne softly said, so softly that the steward wasn’t certain she’d spoken at all. She turned in her seat to face Murdoch, and in her most convincing voice, said, "I don’t want to cause any trouble. Really, it’s fine. I’m not hungry at all. The tea filled me up."

"Really?" Murdoch stated, clearly not believing her. "You haven’t eaten since lunch."

Actually, I haven’t eaten since breakfast, Anne suddenly realized. Still, she wasn’t about to correct Murdoch with that little fact. Instead, she politely smiled. "Mr. Murdoch, really. I don’t want to cause any trouble. It’s just a meal. Besides, I’m sure they’ve only prepared enough food for the crew. Actually...I ate a little before I left."

"Right." Murdoch nodded, ignoring Anne and talking to the steward. "Bring another plate, would you?" Before Anne could protest, a plate was brought and Murdoch began putting half of his food on the second plate. Then, he set it in front of Anne. "We’re not leaving, and I’m not eating until you do."

"Mr. Murdoch, I can’t. This is your food! You need it more than I do." Anne shook her head, pushing the plate across.

"Intolerable woman!" Murdoch exclaimed, half-amused, half-irritated that she was so excessively polite and proper. "You’re going to eat this if I have to—"

"Blimey!" Moody suddenly reached across the table, stabbing part of Murdoch’s fish with his fork and then leaning back into his seat, happily munching on the plaice. The room became silent as Murdoch and Anne both stopped arguing to stare at Moody, who seemed rather pleased with himself. "Well, someone has to eat, and at the rate you to are going, we’ll be in New York before you decide whose food it is!"

Suddenly, the room burst into a paroxysm of laughter, releasing the tension. Murdoch took advantage of the moment to push the plate across to Anne again. This time, she did not object, and the three ate over light conversation. She has the same fiery attitude Ada had. Murdoch shook the thought out of his head quickly.

"So, when did you meet her?" Moody asked after they’d eaten and Anne had left to take their plates to the kitchen...but only after arguing extensively with Murdoch over who should do it.

"Just yesterday. We ran into each other at the docks," Murdoch replied. "Why?"

"Well...it’s just that I haven’t seen you happy since you and Ada parted. And then, being docked to First Officer from Chief Officer really had you down. You haven’t been smiling. Not until yesterday." Moody raised his eyebrows with a smirk.

"Well, I assure you that we’re just friends," Murdoch said rather matter-of-factly. "I’m serious!" he added when Moody raised a brow in disbelief.

"Serious about what?" Anne asked as she entered the room.

"Serious about cuffing Moody here if he doesn’t return to his post." Murdoch glared at Moody with a look that told the latter he really would hit him if their conversation ever reached Anne’s ears.

"It was a pleasure making your acquaintance, Anne." Moody took one of her hands, kissing the backs of her fingers lightly, then again, and again, and again...

"All right, you bloody idiot." Murdoch rolled his eyes. "Enough of that."

"Will’s just angry it’s not him," Moody whispered to Anne, though intentionally loudly enough for all to hear. With that, he smartly saluted Murdoch, grabbed his book, and left the room.

"Well. James seems quite pleasant," Anne said once Moody was gone.

"Try living with him," Murdoch muttered, grabbing his coat and hat. He extended his arm to escort Anne. "Shall we?"

"Thank you." Anne smiled warmly, resting her hand on the crook of his elbow.

*****

My word, he’s kind! Anne leaned against the door to her stateroom. Officer Murdoch had escorted her all the way to her stateroom. She had apologized countless times for keeping him from his duties, and he had explained countless times that it was all quite all right. To prove it, he had even gone so far as to search for a steward to cater to Anne’s needs for the remainder of the night. That had brought a laugh from her. They had bid each other good night, and hoped to see each other in the morning. Somehow, Anne was certain that they would. Even on a ship so large as the Titanic.

Giddy with a happiness she hadn’t felt in years, Anne readied for bed. She stared at her reflection in the mirror; by Jove, she was practically glowing!

*****

An hour had passed since Anne had gone to bed. Her eyes were still wide open; her heart was still racing. Throughout her entire twenty-three years, Elizabeth Anne Stewart had never been courted. No suitors had lined up at her door to sweep her off her feet; she had never received flowers or notes from a secret admirer. Over the years, she’d accepted the sad fact, and deemed herself either physically unattractive or not wealthy enough. Never mind the fact that Miss Temple had all but drilled it into her head that it was because of her intelligence, if anything. "You intimidate them, Anne!" she had said. "You’re too clever, too smart for them, and they know it. Can you think of a single man who’d want to live in his wife’s shadow because she was more successful, more intelligent, than himself?" Well, I doubt I’d have a problem with the success part. A dog could be more successful than me...as long as it’s a male dog. A female dog would stand the same chance I do. And Lord knows it’s because males are so much more infinitely intelligent. She sighed. Twenty-three and unmarried. What a disgrace! Her mind returned to the man that had originally caused the chain reaction of thoughts--William Murdoch. She suddenly frowned in the darkness. She didn’t even know his rank! He had never told her. James was Sixth Officer...so that put Will...somewhere. Anne made a mental note to ask him when she saw him next.

Chapter Four
Stories