SHIP OF DREAMS
Chapter Seven

"No, sir, it was entirely my fault." Anne shook her head. She looked pleadingly up into Captain Edward John Smith’s eyes. "I swear."

"There’s no need for that." Smith shook his head. "Miss Stewart, I thank you for defending Mr. Murdoch, but I clearly saw what happened. Now I understand why he had Lightoller take his place at dinner last night with me."

"W-what?" Anne asked as her face paled ever so slightly.

"Each night, I eat dinner with one of the officers. The first night I eat with the chief officer, then the first officer, and so on and so forth. Last night, Mr. Murdoch was supposed to accompany me. Well, I found myself with Mr. Lightoller as my dinner companion, not that I have anything against the man. Am I correct, Miss Stewart?" Smith asked, and sighed when the young woman slowly nodded her head. "You didn’t know. Don’t worry about it. Although I will have to have a talk with Mr. Murdoch. Ah…here he is now."

Everyone in the small room turned to see Murdoch run to the doorway. His eyes immediately sought out Anne, and then turned to Smith. He swallowed hard when he realized just what he’d gotten himself into, and all over a simple embrace. Blimey.

"Good of you to join us." Smith nodded. He turned to Anne. "Miss Stewart, thank you. You may leave now."

Anne ripped her eyes away from the floor. She glanced up at Smith with determination, as though ready to let loose with a huge tirade. However, Murdoch saw all the fight leave her eyes when she turned to him. Instead, her eyes were swimming with unshed tears. She turned back to Smith with a swift nod, and fled from the bridge.

"Well, Mr. Murdoch. You could have at least waited until you were in private." Smith’s words echoed Wilde’s.

*****

Anne fled down the stairs and corridors until she reached her stateroom. She flung the door open forcefully before slamming it behind her. She leaned against the cool wood and let her tears finally flow. Now you’ve done it. Just when you thought you found someone, you not only ruin the entire relationship, but also his career. Splendid! Bravo! Wouldn’t they be pleased to see you now at Barclay? This is Elizabeth Stewart. She’s never been courted in her life. In fact, she’s rather well-known for destroying both relationships and careers! Stay away! She’s cursed! Her depressed body slid down the door, stopping when she hit the floor. She lay down on her side in front of the door and curled up into a ball, letting her tears flow.

*****

Where is she? Murdoch asked himself the same question repeatedly. He’d searched the top decks as nonchalantly as possible. He couldn’t dare go to her stateroom and see if she was there, but he had sent a steward to see if she was in her stateroom. The steward had replied that she was not there. Murdoch had sent the man to the library, the dining saloon, and the Café Parisien. And then to the pool, the squash court, the gymnasium, the Turkish baths, the lounge, the reception room, the wireless room, and then finally the darkroom on A Deck. But it seemed as though Anne Stewart had disappeared from the face of the earth. But he had to see her again. He knew dinner was out of the question; Smith had given him explicit orders to join him in the dining saloon. Would she be there? Or would she lock herself in her stateroom throughout dinnertime? He nearly drove himself insane with his unanswered questions.

"Get some sleep." Lightoller nodded to his friend when he entered the bridge to relieve Murdoch. "You look tired. And you have to eat with the captain tonight, Will. Don’t forget it."

"Thanks," Murdoch replied. How could I ever forget? "Oh, the fire in boiler room five has been extinguished."

"Finally!" Lightoller exclaimed with relief. "Good night, Will."

"G’night, Lights," Murdoch replied tiredly. How was he ever going to survive dinner? He went down the passage to his quarters. He opened the door and stared blankly into the dark room. He flipped the switch on, and then flipped it back off again. He still had plenty of time for some sleep before dinner.

*****

"Is something the matter, Miss?" Megan asked, her bright eyes filled with concern as she opened the door to Anne’s stateroom. It had become a custom now for her to help Anne dress for dinner, and they had become friends, too. "You look sad."

"Oh, it’s…I just..." Anne’s voice slowly faded into nothingness, and she looked at the maid with unshed tears. "Mr. Murdoch and I...I don’t think we can even be friends any longer."

"Well, let’s start dressing you for dinner, because you haven’t much time, and you can tell me everything," Megan gently said in a motherly fashion that Anne was certain could have gotten even the most embittered criminal to confess all.

*****

"And that’s not even the worst part," Anne said, after having explained the entire morning to Megan in great detail. "Well, almost. I left. I ran away. And I completely left him there with Smith! I felt like such an idiot! And then I ran back here and spent my entire afternoon locked in here. Mr. Murdoch even sent a steward down here to see if I was indeed in my stateroom. I made him promise not to tell Mr. Murdoch that I was here, but I don’t know if he listened or not."

"Mmm…yes," Megan said, nodding, three hairpins between pursed lips as she styled Anne’s hair. "He did. Barnes came to me earlier today about some bloody Scotsman who was sending him on an errand to find some first class girl by the name of Elizabeth Stewart." She grinned with amusement at Anne’s softly-lit reflection in the mirror. "He must be desperate if he’s sending John all over the ship." She noted Anne’s confused expression. "He sent Barnes everywhere, from the dining saloon to the Turkish baths to the darkroom!"

"Now I feel wonderful." Anne rolled her eyes.

"Ah…he’ll get over it. It’s his job, running errands," Megan reasoned.

"On account of me?" Anne raised a brow, and Megan laughed. "Oh, and then Rose, my stepsister, invited me to the dining saloon this evening. Well, I couldn’t say no to her, but I’ll have to endure my stepmother! I think I may just leave early and see if I know anyone in the crew’s mess. I need to talk with Moody, anyway."

"Seems like you have your evening planned." Megan smiled as she inserted the last pin. "There. You look beautiful."

"Thank you, Megan." Anne attempted a weak smile as she looked at her reflection. She was dressed in a navy blue dress with a creamy-white bodice and long, tight sleeves. It was a warm dress, and so she left the shawl Murdoch had given her on her bed.

"Good luck!" Megan called out as she watched Anne walk down the hallway unescorted. She smirked. Had Anne completely forgotten that Murdoch was eating dinner with the captain tonight? They’d be in the same room together. Even if it was a ten thousand, four hundred eighty-eight square foot room.

*****

"Anne!" Rose called out with relief upon seeing her stepsister. She ran from Cal’s side to embrace the slightly older woman. "My, you look beautiful tonight."

"Thank you. You do, too." Anne smiled. However, Anne’s smile quickly faded when her gaze rested on the haughty face of Ruth DeWitt Bukater. "Good evening, Ruth."

"You’ve certainly changed." Ruth hid her surprise with the comment, though it was indiscernible whether she meant it in praise or criticism. Anne decided it was criticism.

"Anne, my fiancé, Cal Hockley." Rose introduced the two.

"A pleasure," Hockley flatly said.

"Shall we?" Rose asked as he continued to escort her to the dining saloon. "Quite the charmer, isn’t he?" Rose whispered sarcastically.

"Yes, quite the catch," Anne whispered in reply. "Well done."

They entered the dining saloon a few moments later. It was already partially filled with people. Hockley and Ruth made their way around the tables as though they knew exactly where they were going; Rose and Anne followed somewhat sadly, as though being led to their deaths. However, Ruth made quite the display of trying not to make a display about their usual table being filled. There were three seats, and she quickly volunteered that Anne find another seat.

"I’m certain you don’t mind, right?" Ruth asked with all the kindness of a serpent.

"I’ll sit with Anne. You two sit here," Rose boldly suggested, but Hockley wouldn’t hear of it.

And so, that was how Anne found herself seated with Rose to her right and First Officer William Murdoch to her left. Her jaw dropped slightly in surprise, and Murdoch’s eyes widened ever so slightly as she seated herself. Anne immediately cast her gaze to her plate and fought the blush she felt.

"My daughter’s friend, Elizabeth Stewart, is joining us this evening," Ruth announced. She said the word friend with as much distaste as she could, glaring at Anne but smiling benevolently at everyone else. She had no idea that Hockley, Rose, Anne, and she were not the only ones who knew their secret.

"Were you here two evenings ago?" an older gentleman asked, who Rose whispered was Colonel Archibald Gracie.

"Yes, briefly." Anne nodded, embarrassed.

"Ah…" Gracie nodded. He said nothing more, as though he sensed Anne’s embarrassment.

"You are a friend of Rose’s?" a kindly man asked with an Irish accent; Rose told Anne he was Thomas Andrews, master shipbuilder.

"Yes, I suppose you could say that." Anne smiled politely.

"So, Elizabeth, where have you been all these years?" Hockley smirked with cruelty in his eyes.

"Well, I attended Barclay Academy in England for a while, and then tutored there after I graduated," Anne softly replied.

"You tutored?" another woman asked, as though Anne had admitted she’d been a prostitute.

"I think it’s a fine profession, especially for a smart young woman like Miss Stewart." A brown-haired woman who appeared to be forty or forty-five nodded with a kind smile.

"That’s Margaret Brown," Rose whispered.

"And the older woman who stared at me like I’d become a pagan?" Anne asked.

"Lady Lucille Duff Gordon," Rose whispered again.

"Where are you headed now?" Ruth asked.

"I’m going to Pennsylvania," Anne replied. She decided to reveal only the most general facts when possible.

"What are you going to do?" Hockley questioned.

"I’ll be tutoring," Anne answered.

"For who?" Lady Gordon inquired, taking a sip of her wine.

"The Lewis family," Anne replied.

"Splendid people." Gracie nodded.

"Yes, but they probably only hired her out of pity. Lord knows they have far too soft hearts." Ruth shook her head. "Always giving to the poor and helping those in need."

"I wouldn’t know. I’ve never met them," Anne quietly said, so softly she didn’t think anyone heard. Poor? You think I’m poor and in need? Ruth, if I’m any of those, it’s because you made me that way! My word, this is more of an interrogation than a dinner!

"So, you aren’t married, then?" Hockley asked, taking a delicate bite of a caviar-covered cracker.

"No." Anne shook her head.

"Engaged?" Lady Gordon inquired.

"No." Anne shook her head again. She began wringing her napkin under the table. Why had she agreed to this? Their meals hadn’t even been served yet!

"How old are you?" Hockley asked, pretending to be more interested than he really was.

"Twenty-three," Anne replied.

"My heavens!" Lady Gordon exclaimed.

"She’s just waiting for the right man, right, honey?" Mrs. Brown asked, and Anne nodded. "See? She’s got a good head on her shoulders. She’ll make her husband proud someday."

"A good wife shouldn’t make her husband proud with her intelligence, but with her reputation and social graces!" Hockley snapped, and Anne could see Rose visibly tense at that comment.

"And money. I suppose money is important, as well, isn’t it, Mr. Hockley? For the world revolves around money and its egotistical financiers," Anne quipped as she raised a brow at Hockley.

"Yes. No one can be happy without it," Ruth quickly said. "Isn’t that right, Elizabeth? You aren’t happy, are you? You seem terribly sad."

Anne held her tongue. She bit her lip and wrung her napkin. This evening had been getting progressively worse and worse. She couldn’t even bear to glance in Murdoch’s direction anymore, or Smith’s, for that matter. Both men seemed stunned into silence by the sheer rudeness of their dinner companions. However, Murdoch did reach over to rest his hand atop hers so she would stop wringing her napkin.

"I think it’s dead now," Murdoch light-heartedly whispered.

"Are your parents wealthy?" a middle-aged man with a mustache inquired.

"John Jacob Astor," Rose whispered.

"They’re dead," Anne dully replied, taking a sip of her wine.

"Did they leave you anything?" Ruth asked, as though it was a test.

"Yes, they left me a rather large fortune," Anne said, keeping eye contact until then. She looked around the table at the others. "I was to inherit a great deal of money after my parents’ deaths, but my father remarried after my mother passed away. He died a year later of heartbreak and depression, because he’d never really loved my stepmother, anyway. She endured me for a year, then shipped me off to finishing school. She paid for my tuition with my inheritance, and sent me the remainder of the money after I graduated. But I know that she kept a great deal of the money, because I calculated the sum, and I wasn’t given half as much as I should have received." Anne glared at Ruth, who stared back with surprise. "Anyway, I really must be returning to my stateroom. I fear I haven’t been feeling well this entire voyage. It’s probably the sea travel. It’s been a pleasure meeting you all." Anne sarcastically smiled, rising from her chair. To her surprise, Captain Smith, Mr. Murdoch, Mr. Andrews, and Colonel Gracie all rose from their chairs out of respect as she did. She smiled kindly to each, locking eyes with all but Murdoch. Then, she swiftly departed the dining saloon, hoping they weren’t stabbing her in the back too enthusiastically. They’ve probably forgotten all about me.

Her pocket watch read 9:50 when Anne decided not to dwell on the horrid evening any longer. She did not bother to change out of her evening gown, but instead grabbed her shawl. The shawl he had given her. The memory brought fresh tears to her eyes. She had ruined it. She should have pushed him away. What’s done is done. She wrapped the shawl around herself, then ascended the stairs of the grand staircase to the promenade deck.

Anne walked around for a long time. She suddenly found herself at the bow of the ship past the forecastle deck. She leaned against the railing, looking out at the great expanse of stars and sky and water. It was all so peaceful...it reminded her of the peace she’d had earlier that day. Until it had all been shattered to the point of never being fixed again. Or so she thought. A single tear rolled down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away. She remembered hoping earlier that maybe Moody would be eating in the crew’s mess. As she turned away from the bow, she saw Murdoch standing at the bridge. He was starboard of the wheelhouse. And he was watching her.

Anne immediately turned her gaze elsewhere. How could he bear to look at her? How could she bear to look at him? She blinked back tears and started towards the crew’s mess, reminding herself that she was supposed to meet Rose at the stern later that evening.

*****

She must feel terrible. I know I do. And I didn’t even say anything. Maybe that’s why I feel so low. I can’t believe they said that to her. I can’t believe I didn’t stand up for her. Murdoch made a motion to catch up with Anne, but then remembered that he was on duty. Besides, Smith had forbade him to speak with her. At least she’s still wearing the shawl I gave her.

He watched her disappear out of his sight, perhaps to the promenade deck. He had planned on maybe getting some tea, but just then, a desperate cry for help was faintly heard. He turned to face the stern, where he thought the sound had come from. But he couldn’t see that far down the length of the ship, and he was certain someone else would be there to handle the situation, whatever it was. He knew it wasn’t Anne; she couldn’t have gotten that far down the length of the ship yet.

*****

Anne strode into the crew’s mess with misery across her petite face. Fortunately, Moody was sitting there with Lightoller. Both men glanced up when she entered. Lightoller appeared somewhat surprised to see her there, but Moody appeared somewhat surprised that she’d waited so long.

"I need to talk to you," Anne told Moody in a firm tone.

"Tea?" Moody asked, and Anne nodded. "Lightoller knows more than I do." He went into the kitchen, leaving Anne with Lightoller.

"I’m Second Officer Charles Lightoller. You must be Miss Stewart." Lightoller rose from his chair to shake Anne’s hand. "It’s a pleasure to meet you."

"You may regret those words." Anne feebly smiled. She sat down in the chair Lightoller offered her. "I’m sure you heard about this morning’s events?"

"Name an officer who hasn’t," Lightoller replied, and Anne groaned.

"This is all my fault. He won’t lose his job, will he?" Anne asked hopefully.

"I doubt it. Smith is a good man. But I can guarantee that Will’s reputation won’t be the same." Lightoller shook his head as Moody reentered with a cup of tea. He decided not to mention the fact that it wasn’t uncommon for an officer to have one or two or more lady friends...but in the port cities, not on the actual ship.

"Thank you." Anne nodded. She took a sip of the tea, surprised that Moody had prepared it the way she preferred it. "How did you know? And aren’t you on watch?"

"I saw Will do it enough times." Moody grinned. "I’m taking a break. Murdoch can hold down the fort for a bit."

"Well, I’m afraid he won’t be making tea for me any longer." Anne sighed, running her finger along the design on the saucer. "Well, you were there. You know what happened. And it’s all my fault."

"Stop blaming yourself," Lightoller gently told her. "From what I heard, Will was the one who started it."

"He also ended it," Anne pointed out. "Heavens, this sounds like we’re describing a fight. Anyway, you’re positively certain that Mr. Murdoch will not lose his job because of this?"

"Positive." Lightoller nodded. Unfortunately, he wasn’t positive. However, the smile that lit up Anne’s face was worth the half-truth.

"Thank you." Anne nodded, drinking the last of her tea. "I’d better be off. Good night."

The men bid her good night. With that, she rose from her chair and left the crew’s mess. She had to meet Rose at the stern.

Chapter Eight
Stories