TITANIC: A STORY TOLD
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Sunday, April 14, 1912
It was a bright, clear day. Sunlight splashed
across the promenade. Rose and Cal were having breakfast in silence. The
tension was palpable. Trudy Bolt, in her maid’s uniform, poured the coffee and
went inside.
"I had hoped you would come to me last
night." Cal spoke quietly.
"I was tired." Rose tensed, looking
at him.
"Yes. Your exertions below decks were no
doubt exhausting."
Rose stiffened. "I see you had that
undertaker of a manservant follow me."
"You will never behave like that again!
Do you understand?"
"I’m not some foreman in your mills that
you can command! I am your fiancée--"
Cal exploded, sweeping the breakfast china
off the table with a crash. He moved to her in one shocking moment, glowering
over her and gripping the sides of her chair, so she was trapped between his
arms.
"Yes! You are! And my wife...in
practice, if not yet by law. So you will honor me, as a wife is required to
honor her husband! I will not be made out a fool! Is this in any way
unclear?"
Rose shrank into the chair. She saw Trudy,
frozen, partway through the door bringing the orange juice. Cal followed Rose’s
glance and straightened up. He stalked past the maid, entering the stateroom.
Rose was almost in tears. "We...had a
little accident. I’m sorry, Trudy."