ROMANOV AUTUMN
Chapter Twenty-Four

The rest of the winter following Christmas seemed to drag on. Snow continued to fall in heavy drifts, making travel by carriage very difficult for the most part. Jack couldn’t believe it when January of 1900 approached…he’d been away from Wisconsin for two years.

"A new century," Phillips murmured as he instructed Jack in the fine art of bread making.

Jack helped the cook as often as he could, because he was really starting to enjoy preparing meals.

"I can’t believe it," Jack replied, squashing the dough into a ball. "I’ve already been working here for two months, but it feels like a lifetime."

Phillips laughed, and his chuckling grew louder when the flour made Jack sneeze several times.

"Careful now," the cook warned, offering a fresh handkerchief, which Jack accepted gratefully. "You might want to take a peep in the mirror when you return upstairs."

Jack did so, and found his face was covered in white powder. Margarita ordered him to bathe at once; she did not want him making white tracks on the dark rugs. He let her set up a tub of warm water, and provided the soap. As he washed, Jack realized this was the year he was going to Europe.

In just three and a half months, he would be boarding the Baltic. He felt a wave of excitement wash over him as he thought about all the pending adventures he would have. He knew he wanted to go to France, Italy, Ireland, Scotland…all over. The possibilities were endless in Europe.

He finished washing up and wrapped himself in a towel before stepping out.

Perhaps I’ll find a lover in Europe, he thought as he escaped into his bedroom before anyone saw him. Most people his age were finding prospects for marriage, and if he hadn’t left Wisconsin, he was sure Esther would be on his case about it. It was good to know that he had the opportunity to make his own decision in this situation. He was going to turn eighteen that October, and he was more than ready to find a girl to court.

When dinner was served that night, Mr. Rockefeller mentioned he’d received a letter from his wife. Jack listened to the contents of the letter with a smile on his face--Mrs. Rockefeller seemed to be enjoying herself immensely. How could you not in Europe? Jack thought, and his employer gave one of his rare smiles as he pocketed the letter at last.

"She should be arriving in America at the beginning of April," he explained, and Jack took a piece of bread from the bowl in the center of the table.

"So, I’ll get to meet her, then?" he asked, and Mr. Rockefeller nodded.

"That should be the case, if all goes well and if nothing delays her travels," he replied. "I trust you are getting ready for your own?"

Jack nodded, feeling full at last. He’d been clearing his plate for the most part at mealtimes, which pleased Margarita. However, he still was outrageously skinny for his age, and she gave up on pestering him to eat more. It was decided that he was just naturally thin, and no amount of stuffing would help the issue.

"I am still grateful to you for letting me go," Jack spoke up once coffee was served. He watched as his employer stirred a bit of cream into his, and then the two of them retired to the parlor.

"Ah…" Mr. Rockefeller began. "I was happy to be of service, lad. I am always on the look out for useful ways to invest my savings. I have more than I should have to deal with."

Jack shrugged, sipping his coffee--he didn’t know what it was like to have more than ten dollars on him for spending, but he didn’t say so. "Well, thank you," he added, and went back to his coffee.

*****

The next two months were taken up with house and outdoor duties. Mr. Rockefeller began to stay at home more frequently, and Jack only had to accompany him to the local Baptist church on Sundays. He also accompanied Margarita into town when she had to do her shopping, but otherwise, he worked on cleaning and tried to prepare the gardens for spring planting.

Spring slowly but surely began to creep through, and with it came the warm weather. Jack’s hay fever was worst between April and June, so he was confined to the house as often as possible. He anticipated the arrival of Mrs. Rockefeller and the daughter, and was nervous when the day they were expected to return came.

That morning, the household seemed busier than usual, making sure everything was spic and span. Jack washed the windows in the great parlor and saw the carriage pulling down the dirt road. The Rockefellers’ mansion was just on the outskirts of the city, so they weren’t bothered by constant noise and congestion. Still, it was close enough that on beautiful days, they could walk to and from town.

He watched as Margarita scurried about and ordered Jack to look presentable. "Fix your hair!" she squawked, and he realized a few soap suds had gotten in. He straightened it out and immediately gathered with the rest of the staff to greet the weary travelers. Jack felt good when Margarita placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, and stood up straight when the front door opened wide.

"Laura!" Mr. Rockefeller exclaimed, and embraced his wife, kissing her cheeks. "You must be exhausted, my darling. Ah…Bessie, dear…"

"Papa!" Bessie gave her father a hug, as well, and caught Jack’s eye with confusion. When Jack got a closer look, he saw that both women had long blonde hair--Laura Rockefeller’s locks were tinted with gray and pulled into a hair net to keep it out of her eyes. Bessie’s hung loose about her shoulders, and she wore a great white hat to keep the sun from burning her pale skin.

"I trust your travels went smoothly?" Mr. Rockefeller watched as Margarita shut the door, and ushered the women into the parlor for some tea and biscuits. Jack was left in the hall, unsure of what to do, so he decided to find Margarita.

"Oh, dear." The maid chuckled when she saw his embarrassed expression, and she hugged him. "They did not mean to ignore you, niño. Come along, dear…I’ll make sure you are properly introduced."

Jack scowled…he hated being treated like a child, but he had no authority to speak against it. When Margarita led him into the parlor, Mrs. Rockefeller eyed him curiously and turned to her husband with a questioning glance.

"Who is this?" she asked, and Mr. Rockefeller stood.

"I apologize, Jack," he replied. "Laura, Bessie, this is our new hire…Jack Dawson. I took him on as my personal guard these past few months."

Both women were silent, and Jack felt his cheeks burning.

"Not much to look at is he, Mama?" Bessie whispered. "He looks as though a good gust of wind would topple him right over!"

Mrs. Rockefeller frowned. "How old are you, dear?" she asked, and it took a moment or two for Jack to find his voice.

"I’ll be eighteen in October," he replied. He glanced at Mr. Rockefeller, feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

"Don’t let looks deceive you," Mr. Rockefeller told his wife and daughter. "Jack has done an exquisite job as my guard. He also is very handy around the house, though he won’t be here very long."

Mrs. Rockefeller looked at her husband with confusion, and Mr. Rockefeller chuckled warmly.

"I am sending him to Europe the first week of May," he explained, and Bessie drew in a breath.

"Are you going?" she asked. "Oh, you will adore it! I did not want to leave!"

Mrs. Rockefeller laughed. "That is true, darling," she replied. "It was like pulling teeth getting you to the ship that morning." Jack smirked.

"What is your goal there, dear?" Mrs. Rockefeller asked.

"I am an artist," Jack replied. "I’ve been wanting to draw for a living, but did not have much luck with the trade here. I saw that so many artists and writers and musicians have come from Europe, and therefore, if I go, I might have a chance to make something of it."

Bessie drew in her breath. "You’re an artist?" she asked. "Do you paint?"

Jack shook his head. "No, I do pencil sketches," he replied. "I do admire painters, though." It was true…he always enjoyed looking at paintings by Van Gogh, Degas, Da Vinci, etc. But it just was not a skill he had interest in.

"Might we see some of your work?" Mrs. Rockefeller asked, and Jack glanced at his employer, who nodded in encouragement.

Jack excused himself to get his sketchpad from his bedroom, and he took his supplies and

brought them back down to the parlor. Margarita inquired if he was all right when she saw him coming past the kitchen, and he nodded.

"Are they treating you kindly?" she asked, and Jack looked at her.

"Yes," he insisted.

"All right, then. Go on." She gave him a little tap, and he rushed into the parlor, where the family sat talking in quiet voices. Jack sat down in his chair again, and Mrs. Rockefeller encouraged him to join her on the couch so they could look more closely at the sketches. Bessie squeezed in on Jack’s other side, and he could smell her strong perfume. He sneezed after a few moments, and everyone looked at him.

"Bless you." Bessie chuckled, and Jack looked at her, blushing.

"Sorry," he apologized, and she smiled at him. He had to breathe through his mouth as often as possible for the next couple of minutes, and flipped through each page, trying to explain his inspiration. He smiled as he remembered Molly and her little brother from California, as they stood with their mother looking on…that seemed so long ago. It was, actually, when he thought about it. He also had pictures of Bridget from the film, though both women made uncomfortable noises at the nude pictures of her.

"These are excellent," Mrs. Rockefeller breathed, and Jack smiled. "Jack, you really should consider studying art at university. That would be profound!"

Jack looked at his lap. "Well, I’m afraid I couldn’t," he admitted. "I’ve only had education up to sixth grade. My family couldn’t afford to send me to school anymore after that, and they died shortly after."

Bessie frowned deeply. "I’m so sorry," she apologized. "How did they pass?"

"Let us not delve too deeply into his personal life, Bessie, dear," Mrs. Rockefeller warned. "It isn’t polite."

Jack chuckled. "It’s okay," he promised. "They died in a fire. My father was working on something in the barn, and his lantern fell, catching on one of the hay stacks…and it went up in flame. My mother went in to try and rescue him, but it was too late…and she was caught." He felt his throat choking up a little; it was still painful to speak of this, but he refused to cry. He hadn’t cried over his parent’s deaths in a long time, and did not want to embarrass himself thus.

"My poor dear!" Mrs. Rockefeller gasped. "That is terrible! You must have been devastated."

Jack nodded. "My sister lives with the guardian who took us in…I got sick because of asthma, and she took care of me. I left a year later."

Mrs. Rockefeller clicked her tongue. "Well, when you are in Europe, dear, you must take every opportunity that comes along. Do you have any idea how long you will reside?"

Jack shook his head. "No," he admitted. "I don’t really have a plan." He shrugged.

"I wish I could come with you," Bessie told him wistfully.

"That is strong perfume," Jack croaked, and she blinked, giggling at last.

"Oh, dear," she replied. "Is it too much? I’m sorry…" She touched his arm, and he immediately stood up, having to sneeze again.

"Bless you!" everyone told him in unison, and he glanced at them.

"Sorry…" he apologized.

"Take a breath of fresh air," Mr. Rockefeller insisted. "Though try not to stay out too long."

"I won’t," Jack whispered, taking his sketchpad and pencils along, and after apologizing to Mrs. Rockefeller and Bessie, went to take a stroll along the grounds. Jack gazed up at the bright blue sky, watching as birds soared overhead, and took a deep breath. He knew he would have to write a letter to Olivia, letting her know where he was headed…she was probably worried sick about him.

Jack climbed one of the trees a few feet from the house and leaned against the trunk, setting his sketchpad on his knees. He was exhausted, physically and emotionally, and desperately wanted a change. The wind ruffled his hair gently as it blew through the leaves, and he sighed, opening his sketchpad to a fresh page. He watched as the gardener, George, clipped the rose bushes and the hedge surrounding the mansion. He began to sketch the mansion, narrowing his eyes in deep concentration, and it took him nearly twenty minutes before he finished.

He eventually came out of the tree, just in time to see Margarita watching for him through the main window. She had a look of disapproval on her sharp features, and reprimanded him for disappearing so long.

"Your breathing is already labored," she scolded, and Jack frowned. "Go on upstairs and take some rest."

Jack inquired what the Rockefellers were up to, and she replied that Laura and Bessie were resting now.

"All right," he agreed, and she shook her head as he headed up the winding staircase. He slept until five o’clock, when he went back down to the kitchens to help Phillips complete the evening meal. He sat with the Rockefellers, and listened as both Mrs. Rockefeller and her daughter described their adventures in Europe.

"The gardens were beautiful," Bessie breathed. "And the fountains. In Italy, I had several of the most handsome of men flirting with me…it was wonderful!"

Jack nearly snorted into his water glass, but suppressed the noise.

"What about you, dear?" Mrs. Rockefeller asked, and Jack jumped, realized she was talking to him.

"Sorry?" he asked, pausing with his fork in mid-air, and Mr. Rockefeller raised an eyebrow.

"Have you given any thought to marriage?"

Jack stared at Bessie, who was trying purposely not to look at him, and he cleared his throat.

"Er…yes," he replied. "I mean…I have no prospects yet, but I am hoping to find some in Europe."

Mrs. Rockefeller chuckled. "Well, at eighteen, your time is running out," she replied, and Mr.

Rockefeller gave a loud noise.

"Laura, Jack is perfectly capable to make the decision on his own. He does not need your meddling."

Jack sighed with relief, and took another bite of his pork.

After dinner, he had a bit of a headache, so Margarita encouraged him to retire early. She sat with him as he got comfortable under the blankets, and fluffed his pillows.

"I’m going to miss this place," he told her softly as she draped a cool cloth over his eyes, which was a common headache remedy. Jack blinked a little, shivering as one of the cool drops slid down his neck.

"It will not be the same without you, niño," Margarita replied.

"I think I’ll miss you the most," Jack admitted, and she touched his wrist.

"You will remember me most at mealtimes." She laughed, and Jack grinned.

"Will you promise to write when you arrive?" she asked, and Jack lifted the compress, gazing at her.

"Of course," he promised, and she tucked him in.

"Good, very good. Well, relax, Mr. Jack. I will be roaming if you need me."

Jack accepted a quick peck on the cheek, and sighed with contentment as she swept out of the room. When she was gone, he took the compress away, his head still pounding, and gazed out the window. It was growing steadily darker, but the sun was not quite gone from the sky. He eventually felt his eyelids drooping, and fell fast asleep.

*****

The next couple of weeks seemed to fly by, and Mr. Rockefeller helped Jack prepare for his trip to Europe. When May arrived, Jack felt butterflies in his stomach--this would be his first journey to another country. He wrote Olivia a letter, explaining his whereabouts, and told her he hoped the journey would go smoothly.

I was going to write you as soon as I arrived, but in case something happens to me along the way, I wanted you to have some idea of where I was headed, he scribbled. I will also write as soon as I reach London. May God Bless, and I love you. Jack.

He read the last words, and realized attending Mr. Rockefeller’s church every Sunday had renewed his belief in God. His parents were Catholic, but he didn’t have much of an interest in following their beliefs. He’d also found church dull as a child, but enjoyed it now.

He folded the paper and put it into an envelope just as there was a loud, "Jack! We’re going to be late!" from Mr. Rockefeller downstairs.

"Coming, sir!" Jack replied, glancing over his shoulder, and grabbed everything he’d come with. He did not have a lot of baggage with him, but that was a good thing. He hurried down the steps after taking a final glance around his quarters, and saw the family and Margarita waiting for him.

"Margarita is going to drive you to the docks," Mr. Rockefeller explained. "I do hope you have a safe journey. Do write when you arrive, so we know everything turned out well."

Jack gave his employer a hug.

"Thank you for everything," he whispered.

"You’re welcome, Mr. Dawson."

Bessie embraced Jack and kissed him on the lips, causing his cheeks to burn with embarrassment.

"Do take care," she added, and after being kissed and hugged by Mrs. Rockefeller, Jack shouldered his duffle bag and gave a final wave to the family. He followed Margarita outside…the weather was again beautiful, but it had grown much warmer. Jack climbed into the passenger seat of the carriage, and waited for Margarita to set everything up.

"Are you ready, niño?" she asked, and Jack nodded.

"I’m nervous," he admitted, and she squeezed his hand.

"You will be just fine," she promised. "I have complete faith in you."

Jack smiled and gazed out the window, waving to the Rockefellers, who stood in the doorway as the carriage began to pull away. There were shouts of, "Good-bye!" and "Bon Voyage!" as they disappeared around a bend, and Jack eventually leaned back in his seat, fiddling with the straps on his bag.

Mr. Rockefeller had given him one thousand dollars in spending money, which would hold him over for a good while. Of course, he wasn’t quite sure of European money in comparison to American, but it was different.

"They will exchange your money when you arrive," Mr. Rockefeller explained. Jack dozed on the journey to the docks; the warm sunshine made him feel very sleepy along the way. When they reached it, he stepped out, and noticed the Baltic was not much larger than the Oaysys. It was definitely older, but it was still a very nice ship in total. Jack allowed Margarita to hug him, and he closed his eyes, feeling tears filling them.

"I’ll miss you," he choked, and she wiped his cheeks, squeezing his hands.

"I will miss you, niño. Perhaps we will meet again someday?" She tapped his nose, and he smiled softly, hoping that was true.

"Quiero mucho," Jack told her, and Margarita stared at him. "Gracias por todos."

"Quiero mucho, niño," she replied, and he hugged her again. "Adios, child!" She waved, blowing a kiss at him as he made his way quickly towards the dock. He turned around to watch as she made her way to the carriage, and wiped another tear that fell down his cheek.

Jack sniffed and made his way to the ship’s entrance, handing the officer in charge of the passengers who were embarking his ticket.

"Welcome to the Baltic," he announced. "There will be crew around if you need assistance."

Jack had a second class suite; he’d tried to insist that Mr. Rockefeller give him steerage…he wasn’t worth the money to be in second class.

"Nonsense," Mr. Rockefeller replied at the time. "There is no reason for you to feel as such."

Jack found his cabin after a bit, and found it to be quite comfortable. It had a twin bed, a chest of drawers, a water closet, a writing desk, and a large porthole window that looked out over the water. Jack stood gazing around thoughtfully, and set his bag on the floor. He hopped onto the bed and ran his hand along the comforter, closing his eyes.

This is it, he thought, smiling. My life is finally about to begin.

Chapter Twenty-Five
Stories