SHIP OF DREAMS
Chapter Four
Barely able to sleep, Anne woke
with the sun. Fortunately, Megan was already up and about on her rounds. After
bringing Anne morning tea, Megan helped her dress. Following another
conversation with Megan, in which Megan did most if not all of the talking, and
Anne patiently listened, the two ladies parted ways and continued about their
routines.
Anne skipped breakfast; the toast
and apple Megan had brought had been enough for her. She had never had a very
large appetite, and her happiness only reduced her appetite even further.
After making her way through
various corridors and up several stairways, Anne found herself on one of the
top decks. She couldn’t recall the name of it; honestly, she didn’t know the
name of it. However, she soon realized it was the boat deck. Lifeboats lined
the length of the ship. She walked to a point in between the boats so she could
stand at the railing and watch the ocean.
"Good morning." Anne
turned to see Murdoch standing behind her, hands clasped behind his back, as
he’d stood the previous night. "Did you sleep well?"
"I suppose." Anne
smiled. "This is only my second time on a ship; I’m afraid I’m not
entirely accustomed to it yet."
"It’s not difficult."
Murdoch walked up to stand alongside her.
"Well, if I spent my life on
the sea, I suppose it would be quite easy." Anne laughed, and remembered
her question. "Mr. Murdoch, I never asked you your rank. It just occurred
to me last night."
"Oh." Murdoch dropped
his gaze for a moment or two, then stared straight out to sea. "First
Officer William McMaster Murdoch."
"Is that the highest?"
Anne asked, suddenly a bit frightened and uneasy.
"No." Murdoch lowered
his gaze again. "Chief Officer Henry Wilde is the highest ranking officer,
aside from Captain Smith, of course." He sighed softly.
My heavens, what have I done?
First Officer? Of course, he had to be first, not second or third. Suddenly, Anne noticed the slightly
melancholic expression in Murdoch’s eyes, even though he wasn’t looking at her.
"Mr. Murdoch?" Anne
asked, then, "It is all right if I call you Mr. Murdoch?"
"Yes, of course."
Murdoch faintly smiled.
"You weren’t supposed to be
a higher ranking officer, were you?" Anne inquired, and knew she’d hit the
nail on the head when his eyes quickly shot up and over to her. "Oh."
"I come from a long line of
seafaring men. It’s a rule that at least one man per generation in my family
finds a trade ashore, because death at sea is such a risk. I’ve lost two
cousins, three uncles, and an aunt. The sea is...part of my life. I’ve worked
on sailing vessels; I’ve served aboard Medic, Runic, Arabic, Adriatic, Oceanic,
and Olympic. They’re all White Star Line ships. You can tell because of the ic
ending. You know, I thought I’d be Chief Officer for the past year...well,
almost." Murdoch removed his cap for a moment, running a strong hand
through thick brown hair as he sighed. He flopped it back on his head and
straightened it, then looked up at Anne. When he did, he smiled a faintly sad
smile. "I’m sorry. Here I am rambling on..."
"Oh, no. It’s quite all
right." Anne smiled gently, shaking her head. He has a nice accent.
What? Shut up, Anne. Shut up. First Officer, remember? And he’ll probably be
Chief Officer soon enough! "I don’t mind."
"Well, you should learn to
mind something." Murdoch grinned, his mood lightening. "Do they teach
you only to obey in finishing school?"
"Yes, but whether or not one
chooses to adhere to that policy is an entirely different matter." Anne
grinned.
"I have the feeling that the
way you act outside is entirely different from what you think inside,"
Murdoch said.
"Maybe." Anne turned
and walked past Murdoch. She sharply turned her head to glance back, and in
that moment, the sunlight shone off of raven-black locks and emerald green
eyes. Her porcelain skin of peaches and cream—quite distinguishable from the
strawberries and cream complexions of the Englishwomen—seemed to glow.
"Have you had
breakfast?" Murdoch asked.
"Hmm. Yes," Anne said,
slightly tilting her head at an angle. She laughed when Murdoch raised a brow
at her. "Well, I had toast and an apple over the Atlantic Daily
Bulletin. I wasn’t very hungry; I never eat much in the morning."
"From what I’ve seen, you
don’t eat much at all." Murdoch smiled. "Would you care to have tea
with me?"
"I’m...sorry?" Anne
asked. Did he just ask me to tea? Did he, First Officer, ask me, a
first-class passenger who doesn’t even deserve the title?
"Tea. Would you like
some?" Murdoch asked, trying to hide an amused smile, but failing
miserably.
"Yes. Thank you," Anne
blurted, then shook her head. "I mean, no! I mean, thank you for asking,
but really, I can’t."
"And why can’t you?"
Murdoch inquired.
"I have matters to attend
to," Anne replied rather matter-of-factly.
"Oh?" Murdoch asked. He
looked down at the girl, whose eyes were stolidly fixed on the deck below. Her
fingers were running over the smooth silver of her locket. Suddenly, he felt
rather bold. "Do they include running from your fears the rest of your
life?" He had already braced himself for the angry look he was sure would
follow.
"Excuse me?" Anne hotly
asked. Her eyes were intensely green, and Murdoch wondered if she didn’t have a
bit of Irish or Scottish blood in her. Perfectly manicured fingernails dug into
her palms, almost to the point of perforating her flesh. "How dare you
speak to me in that manner! You don’t know me."
"That’s right, I
don’t," Murdoch replied. He crossed his arms over his broad chest.
"You won’t tell me."
"Well, you never
asked," Anne sputtered, a bit taken aback by her lack of serenity and
grace. Although, thinking back to last night, this is nothing.
"You didn’t exactly seem in
a mood last night to answer me without crying," Murdoch honestly pointed
out. At this, he led her to the railing where he was supposed to be on watch.
"Besides, I think I deserve to hear your story. I told you my boring
tale."
"I suppose you’re
right." Anne sighed, adding, "And your story wasn’t boring." She
paused for a moment, as though collecting her thoughts...or perhaps trying to
forget. She looked out to sea, watching the waves in the distance and the
blue-black water below. "My father and mother were very wealthy. And very
much in love. They were happy together, and they loved me. My world revolved
around them. And then...my world slowly began to break apart.
"When I was six, my mother
died of pneumonia. My father was heartbroken, and his health began to steadily
decline. At my mother’s funeral, he met a woman near his age. She had a
daughter, and her marriage was falling apart. Father didn’t know that at the
time. He thought she was single. But that didn’t matter; she told him her
husband had died recently, and they were able to comfort each other.
"They married a year
following Mother’s death; I think she only wanted his money. Father was still
in love with Mother. I think he just wanted me to have a mother figure. He died
of depression and heart failure a year later. I was sent to England by my
stepmother a year following his death. She’d only endured me for even that long
so she didn’t seem quite the cruel woman she was. But I never heard an
endearment or kind word from her, not once. Even with company she found ways to
ridicule me, and the others either laughed or pretended not to hear. Or else
she said it so sweetly that I was the only one who understood her true meaning.
"In less than two years, I
lost my entire family, and I was thrust into surroundings so different from
what I’d been accustomed to. For the past fourteen years of my life, I’ve lived
at Barclay Academy. The only reason I wasn’t deemed a scholarship girl was
because my stepmother paid for my tuition...with my inheritance.
"When I graduated, my
stepmother sent me the remainder of what I’d been left. But even I could tell
that it was less than what I really should have had, even after nine years of
schooling. I knew she kept some of it, and I knew she had sold most, if not
all, of our furnishings and memories.
"For the past five years,
I’ve tutored at Barclay. So, while every other girl was being courted and
planning her marriage, I was stuck in that prison, tutoring wealthy, haughty
girls to grow up just like my stepmother.
"When I received the letter
from the Lewis family, I knew it was my chance to escape Barclay, and my
stepmother, for good. I finally had a reason to leave Barclay. I suppose I
could have left at any time I pleased, and I probably should have. My only
friend during those agonizing years was Miss Temple, my tutor as a child, and
later my colleague.
"And so, here I am, having
spent a great deal of the remnants of my inheritance on a first-class ticket. I
should have purchased a second-class ticket; it would have not only been
cheaper, but also aided me in avoiding my stepmother and her daughter. Besides,
now I appear to have more money than I really do. But I guess...I guess I just
wanted to know what it was like again, to feel wealthy and important once more.
I suppose that’s just not what was meant to be, though."
Murdoch was silent for a while
after Anne finished speaking. He knew she was growing more and more
uncomfortable by the second, with the heavy silence like a barrier between
them. But he was thinking, contemplating. She had been through so much. The
death of her mother, the death of her father. She had been ignored by her
stepmother at home, and then ignored by her schoolmates at school. She hadn’t
exactly led an easy life. No wonder she always seems so nervous, so
insecure.
"I’m sorry I rambled."
Anne shook her head. "Sometimes I talk too much. It’s one of my many
faults, including spilling wine all over myself, running into officers, crying
publicly, arguing with people, and making public spectacles of myself in
general."
"Well, then, I suppose
you’ll be making the ship sink next, eh?" Murdoch joked, trying to be
light when his heart felt heavy.
"Probably." Anne
nodded. "Leave it to me to sink an unsinkable ship."
"Well, now that we have both
regaled each other with our rather exciting and splendid lives, shall we have
tea?" Murdoch asked again, but quickly decided he knew what her answer
would be. "Sit here." He gently pushed her down onto the top step of
a staircase not far off. "I’ll be right back."
"But—" Anne was cut off
with a serious look from Murdoch. She sighed as he turned and left. Turning
around again, she sat down and slid her feet and knees together and smoothed
her dress. Then, she leaned against the side of the stairs in a highly
unladylike fashion, feeling the cool metal against her warm skin.
"I said he was proper,
formal, and dull, but I may have forgotten to mention that he’s also as
stubborn as a little child when he wants to be." Anne turned to see Moody
stifle a yawn behind her.
"What a pleasant surprise!
Are you getting off soon?" Anne asked, rising from her seat on the cold
steps. She brushed some stray flecks of dirt from her dress.
"Actually, not until noon."
Moody sighed. "And then I’ll be back at it from four to five, and then
eight to twelve again."
"You must not sleep much,
then." Anne tilted her head to the side a few degrees.
"Sleep? I’m afraid I’ve
never heard of it; it’s not in my vocabulary." Moody grinned, bringing a
laugh from Anne. "How are you this fine morning?" Moody’s tone
indicated that he had asked out of more than politeness.
"Better, thank you."
Anne smiled genuinely. "Mr. Murdoch is a fine man."
"Yes. He’s a good man to
have at sea, and he’s a fine gentleman. I’m glad you two have met." Moody
nodded, though his mischievous grin and sparkling eyes caused Anne to wonder if
he hadn’t meant something more. He took a few long, lackadaisical steps past
her, leaning lazily over the railing. He heard Anne’s heels against the deck as
she followed him, clasping her hands before her and resting her elbows on the
railing. "I suppose you won’t be joining us on the return trip,
then?"
"Most likely not. I expect
to be with the Lewises for quite a few years, if they’ll keep me." Anne
sighed, feeling trapped. What’s my life coming to? I’ll grow up an unmarried
spinster, like Miss Temple! Good heavens! Oh. Wait. I already am grown up. Hmm.
I have the feeling that my life will last all of ten seconds when I die...if
your life truly does flash before your eyes.
"I still don’t understand
it. Why is a beautiful woman like yourself on the grandest ship in the
world...heading to become a governess to a bunch of spoiled children?"
Moody asked. "Pardon my...manners."
"Or lack thereof."
Murdoch suddenly appeared from, it seemed, thin air. He was holding a saucer in
each hand, a cup of tea steadily resting on top. He saw Anne slightly tilt her
head to the side again, and handed her a cup.
"Thank you." She
gratefully took the warm saucer, wrapping her fingers around the saucer and
cup. I certainly would have spilled the tea. Mayhap years of life at sea
makes one an expert at balance. She inhaled the sweet fragrance; heavens,
she definitely loved her tea. She took a sip. "You made it just the way I
like it! How did you know?"
"I watched you last
night," Murdoch stated, then blushed slightly. Think before you speak,
Will. Think before you speak. He quickly took a sip of his tea.
"Mr. Moody…er…James was
asking me why I chose to be a governess." Anne indicated the junior
officer with a nod of her head.
"Did it ever occur to you
that Miss Stewart’s business is hers alone?" Murdoch looked at Moody over
the rim of his teacup.
"You’re just saying that
because you know," Moody replied.
"Gentlemen," Anne
warned, glaring them both into an apologetic submission. She turned to Moody
with a cheerful smile. "Sometimes...God has different plans. Breeding
isn’t everything. I just wasn’t meant to be like the other high society
women."
"But you belong there; you
deserve it," Murdoch said, setting his cup on its saucer again with a soft
tink. His blush, which had almost completely disappeared, now deepened as Anne
glanced over at him with a soft smile.
"Hmm. I don’t know that I
deserve it." Anne slyly grinned. "I wasn’t exactly an angel at the
Academy all the time."
"I find that hard to
believe," Moody teased, challenging her with his eyes.
"Well," Anne began,
accepting the challenge. "There was the time that I tripped Rebecca during
the lunch period. Rebecca was an extremely influential girl. She landed face
first in her soup. And it wasn’t cold soup, either, mind you."
"You could have accidentally
tripped her, or she could have slipped on something else," Moody said. Is
that the best you’ve got?
"Fine. There was the time I
followed Rebecca out to the lake one night. She went swimming...in nothing but
her unmentionables. I stole her clothes and placed them on the headmistress’
desk. That was quite the scandal. Especially when everyone learned that she
hadn’t gone swimming alone. Of course, I once dumped ashes from the fireplace
in her hair. That was almost an accident." Anne paused, suppressing a
smile as Murdoch’s eyes grew wider and wider as she regaled them with her
pranks. "I think that’s the worst I ever did."
"You really didn’t like this
Rebecca girl, did you?" Moody teased.
"She was almost as cruel as
my stepmother." Anne rolled her eyes, taking a short sip of her tea.
"And that’s fairly cruel."
"All right, Moody. That’s
enough. I’ll not have you revealing next that Miss Stewart is a
murderess." Murdoch nodded to indicate that Moody should leave.
"Aye, sir." Moody
nodded with a grin for Anne. He turned on his heel and retreated into the
enclosed bridge from the starboard side.
Anne watched Moody disappear,
then turned to glare at Murdoch. What’s gotten into him? His mood changes as
often as the weather! However, Murdoch seemed deep in thought at the
moment, and didn’t glance her way. Anne was rather relieved; she wasn’t exactly
behaving as a finished woman should.
Murdoch sipped his tea. Blimey!
She was the most peculiar thing he’d ever met! She’d be laughing and social one
moment, and then sobbing hysterically the next. And when she wasn’t doing either
of those, she was reminiscing or snickering as she recalled the various
less-than-becoming feats she’d accomplished at Barclay. He shook his head
slightly, but enough that Anne caught the movement and looked at him oddly.
"Is something the matter,
sir?" Anne politely asked.
"Nothing at all,"
Murdoch replied, seeming rather distant. However, he glanced over at her this
time, and noticed confusion in her eyes. He had spoken with Moody earlier that
morning, and the younger man’s words continually rang in his head--Remember,
Will. She’s not Ada. Don’t forget that. He offered a small smile that was
happier than he felt, but it seemed to alleviate Anne’s worry.
"I’d better leave,"
Anne said, her eyes moving to the dark land mass ahead of them, slowly growing
larger and larger. "I don’t want to keep you from your duties, and we’ll
be at Queenstown soon enough. Thank you for the tea and the conversation, Mr.
Murdoch." Anne smiled, then offered to take Murdoch’s cup to the kitchen,
along with her own. When they finished arguing over who should and should not
take the cups and saucers to the kitchen, it was decided that they’d both walk
there together. "Mr. Murdoch, would you tell me if something was bothering
you?" Anne regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. Murdoch’s
eyes shot straight to hers, and they stopped in their tracks for a few seconds.
"Never mind."
"No. What is it?"
Murdoch asked, not moving.
"Well...it’s just that you
seem preoccupied with something, perhaps even troubled by something. I was
wondering if there was anything I could do to help."
"I shall remember your offer
for later." Murdoch tapped his temple with his index and middle fingers.
"But for now, Miss Stewart, I simply enjoy being in your company." At
this, both blushed, and neither looked at the other for the longest time as
they continued walking.
Anne sighed inwardly. Murdoch was
one of the most perplexing men she’d ever met. Of course, she hadn’t met that
many. Courting had been strictly forbidden at Barclay, for both students and
employees. God forbid it hinder my career! Besides, she hadn’t been
interested in the ones who were interested in her. It was clear there was only
one thing on their minds, and she was not about to be seen with the likes of
them. They were all too arrogant, too stupid. She wanted her ideal husband to
have an IQ over ten, if that was possible.
One hand reached up to her locket
instinctively; long, slender fingers played with the cool metal at her throat.
Soft skin rubbed over the engraved initials there--EAS. It had been Anne’s for
as long as she could remember; her parents had given it to her at birth. She
never removed her beloved necklace. It was the only constant in her life, aside
from the setting and rising of the sun. What a pathetic life.
Murdoch noticed her hand raise
from her side to her throat; without looking, he knew what she was doing. Oh,
dear, he had upset her. He pretended not to notice. Quick, Will. Think of
something to say. Anything. Faster...faster! "So, what do you enjoy,
aside from playing with your necklace?"
"Oh, my locket. Sorry. I
have been touching it constantly, haven’t I?" Anne let her hand drop from
the jewelry. "My parents gave it to me; I’ve had it forever." She
reached up to unclasp it from her neck, and opened the small heart-shaped
necklace to reveal two photographs, small but still clear. "My mother and
father." The black and white photos were a bit worn from age, but Murdoch
could still see the family resemblances...Anne had her father’s dark hair and
her mother’s small but sophisticated looking nose. Cheekbones, eye shapes,
jaws...Anne was a cut-and-paste model of her parents’ best attributes, and they
all fit together rather nicely. "I read a lot when I was at Barclay. The
Academy had a huge library, and I spent many hours there. I also enjoy dancing,
but I never really danced at the balls or parties. What about you?"
"There really isn’t much
time for hobbies aboard a ship, especially as an officer." Murdoch sighed.
He slightly shrugged two large, broad shoulders. He didn’t seem to care if it
was unbecoming, and neither did Anne. Suddenly, he wondered what it would have
been like if he had been the one to pick up a trade ashore. Would he have more
hobbies? Would he have, perhaps, married Ada? No, it was doubtful. Ada deserved
more than what Murdoch could have offered her. She was a woman meant for balls
and parties and social gatherings, bred for perfection and grace. He...well, he
was the opposite. He was quiet and sometimes shy; he was made for life at
sea...the discipline, the strength, the adventure...Ada was the most beautiful
woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Her midnight-black hair shone in the sun; her
green eyes were always alight with gossip and joy. He wasn’t the most handsome
fellow in the world. In fact, he thought himself rather plain. But Ada was
known for courting only the most distinguished and attractive men, so there
must have been something in William McMaster Murdoch that caught her eye.
"I suppose not," Anne
softly whispered, suddenly feeling awkward.
"I look at the
constellations, sometimes. Some of them have quite interesting stories,"
Murdoch suddenly said, then added, "you have to learn them when you’re a
sailor."
"I’m afraid I don’t know
any." Anne shook her head. "Except for maybe the Big Dipper and
Orion. Oh, and Cassiopeia. When I was in Barclay, I looked out my window often
at night. We were so deep into the country...the sky was pitch-black on clear
nights, and the stars were like...diamonds. There were so many of them."
Murdoch looked over at Anne. She
had a wistful look in her eyes, and he didn’t disturb her. They continued into
the kitchen in silence; Murdoch stayed to watch Anne rinse the cups. He stood
with his hands clasped behind his back, which was ramrod straight. When she
turned, it was evident that she hadn’t expected him to still be there. Her hand
rose to her throat in surprise, and she closed her eyes as though frightened.
"It’s all right." Anne
laughed when Murdoch apologized. "I thought you had left."
"I-I was wondering..."
Murdoch’s voice trailed off, and his gaze shifted nervously to the ground. His
cap, which he had been holding in his left hand, was now held between two
rather shaky hands. Just say it! My God man, you’re pathetic! "I
was wondering, if perhaps, you’d maybe...if you’d join me for dinner tonight.
With the crew."
"I’d very much enjoy it,
sir." Anne cordially accepted with a nod.
"Right, then. Good.
I’ll...stop by your stateroom later," Murdoch quickly said, barely
stopping to breathe in-between words. "I...have to go check the mail
room."
"Splendid," Anne said,
but Murdoch had already gone. She stared as the door swinging closed, and a
small smile crossed her face. Had he been blushing? No. Stop it, Anne. It
was your imagination. Got it? I-M-A-G-I-N-A-T-I-O-N. So, just drop it.