Titanic Affair (29 page)

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Authors: Amanda P Grange

Tags: #Man-Woman Relationships, #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General, #Titanic (Steamship), #Love Stories

BOOK: Titanic Affair
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‘But we’re not all being kept from our loved ones,’ he said gruffly. ‘Nor are we being fooled into thinking they’re dead.’

She gave an exclamation of impatience. ‘It had to be done. Unless you would like to have Susan and Isabelle living with us? Because that’s what it will come to if Isabelle doesn’t manage to catch Carl Latimer. My sister can’t keep up appearances for much longer. Paul left her heavily in debt when he died, and it has taken all her ingenuity to pretend otherwise. If anyone guesses what dire straits she is in, it will be impossible for Isabelle to make a suitable match, let alone a good one. And Isabelle must make a good match. It’s the only thing that can prevent both her and Susan from becoming destitute, and if they become destitute they will be looking for relatives to take them in. And you know how you have always disliked Susan.’

His face fell. ‘She’s a terrible woman,’ he said.

‘Which is why we must do everything in our power to make sure Isabelle catches Carl,’ said Mrs Gisborne with a satisfied air.

‘I suppose so,’ he said.

She turned her thoughts back to the problem in hand.

‘Now, if we can only keep them apart when we land in
New York
we will have managed the business very well. It shouldn’t be too difficult. If we can find out when the Donaldsons mean to disembark, and arrange to be well away from them when they do so, we should be able to arrange it. Dolly is going to lend Emilia some clothes in an effort to disguise her appearance. Once she is dressed in a long coat, with a large hat to hide that golden hair, we should be able to make sure Carl won’t recognise her, even if he spots her from a distance.’

‘And if they meet face to face?’ he asked.

‘Really, Thomas, why must you be so tiresome? There are over six hundred survivors on board. It’s very unlikely that the two of them will meet face to face. We will just have to hope it doesn’t happen.’

‘You’ve still got to get him to propose to Isabelle, once he returns to
New York
,’ said Mr Gisborne judiciously.

She agreed. ‘That shouldn’t prove too difficult either. As long as Isabelle is waiting for him by the pier, which of course she will be, because I telegraphed Susan from the
Titanic
to make sure that that would be the case, she will soon manage to fix him. There’s nothing like a few words of kindness after a shock. All she has to do is hold his hand and murmur sympathetic nothings in his ear, and I shouldn’t be surprised if they’re engaged before the end of the month. A quick wedding would be best, I think - June’s a lovely month - and the thing will be done.’

‘I just hope it works out the way you’ve planned it,’ said Mr Gisborne, returning to his newspaper.

‘Oh, it will,’ she said determinedly. ‘I’ll make sure of it.’

Chapter Twelve
 

 

Emilia scarcely noticed the bath she took or the food she ate before falling into a feverish sleep. She had been soaked through whilst still on
Titanic
, and when she had finally escaped on one of the boats the icy water in the bottom had numbed her feet and legs. The soaking, the exposure, the exertion and the fear had taken their toll, and she had collapsed as soon as she was helped into bed.

At last she began to emerge from her slumber. She woke slowly. As she did so, she found herself aching in every bone and muscle. For a moment she could not remember where she was, nor why she should be aching. Her shoulders were painful, and her arms felt as though they were made out of lead. Her hands were sore, and her legs were no better.

Even worse, the stateroom was strange to her. The drapes around the bed were blue, when she remembered very well that they should be gold. She turned her head. She could see the dressing table, but none of her familiar possessions were in view. And then it started to come back to her.

She shut her eyes, trying to shut out the memories of
Titanic
’s sinking. She would rather not wake, if waking meant reliving the nightmare. But then she thought of Carl, and her spirit stirred. She must get up. Find him.

‘Madam,’ she heard a voice calling just outside the room as she sat up. ‘Madam, she’s awake.’

Mrs Frampton hurried into the bedroom, just as Emilia threw back the covers and tried to get out of bed. As she swung her legs over the side she was overtaken by a wave of dizziness.

‘Lie back,’ said Mrs Frampton, gently lifting her legs and putting them back on the mattress. ‘You have been ill, my dear. You must give yourself time to recover.’

Emilia railed at her own weakness, but she had no choice but to do as Mrs Frampton said. Even so, she could not be still. She had to know about Carl.

‘Carl,’ she said. ‘Did you find him? Has he been brought on board?’

She could tell by Mrs Frampton’s face that the news was not good.

‘I’m sorry, my dear,’ said Mrs Frampton, sitting down beside the bed. ‘My maid waited by the rail until the last boat was taken on board, but there was no sign of him. I’m very sorry to have to tell you this, but he is not on
Carpathia
.’

‘The last boat has been brought on board?’ said Emilia in surprise. ‘I thought I just dozed off. How long have I slept?’

‘It is ten o’clock, my dear —’

‘Ten o’clock! Then I’ve been asleep for almost two hours!’

Mrs Frampton hesitated. Emilia was about to ask her what was the matter, when she noticed that the stateroom curtains were drawn.

‘It is ten o’clock in the morning, isn’t it?’ she asked. ‘Or is it ten o’clock in the evening?’

‘It is ten o’clock in the evening,’ said Dolly. She paused. ‘Wednesday evening.’

‘Wednesday?’ asked Emilia in shock.

The sudden realization that she had slept almost three days away caused her head to throb, and she put her hand to it in an effort to soothe it. If she had slept so long, she must have been ill. And she was still ill, she was forced to admit, as her head throbbed relentlessly. Her attempt to get up had exhausted her, and she had not even managed to swing her legs out of bed. But she could not give up.

‘I must find Carl,’ she said. ‘He might have been brought on board before I arrived. Then Mary would not have seen him.’

Mrs Frampton spoke sympathetically. ‘I’m sorry my dear, but I thought of that, and sent Mary to check the list of survivors. When she could not find the name of Carl Latimer, I went to check it myself. It is not that she is not careful, but I wanted to be sure. His name was not on the list.’

‘No.’ Emilia could not believe it. Carl had gone. She felt a flood of hopelessness wash over her.

‘It must be a terrible blow, especially in your weak state, but you will feel better when we reach
New York
. You will be among friends there. They will help you recover from your loss. You don’t think so now, but time is a great healer, and in time your pain will pass,’ Mrs Frampton said. ‘You will find another young man and get married and raise your children, and all this will be like nothing more than a dream.’

Emilia did not reply. She knew she would never forget Carl, but she did not have the energy to speak.

‘Rest now. We will reach
New York
tomorrow. Your friends will be meeting you on the pier when we dock?’ she asked.

Emilia nodded. ‘Yes. They are going to meet me . . . or they were, but with the ship now arriving on a different day, I’m not sure.’

‘Never mind. I will see you safely off the ship and wait with you until I know you are in safe hands. If by any chance your friends do not come to meet you, you will be my guest until such time as you can contact them. Don’t worry, my dear. Everything will work out in the end, you’ll see.’

Emilia was too exhausted to do or say more. She closed her eyes and drifted into welcome oblivion.

 

In the Donaldsons’ stateroom, Mrs Latimer was sitting by Carl’s bed, encouraging him to take a drink of tea. She was grieved by the change in him. The vigorous man of a few days before was gone, to be replaced by a thin man with a drawn face. His skin had lost its healthy tone, and was pallid. His eyes had lost their animation, and there were dark rings underneath them. His lips looked bloodless. But he was alive, and for that she was grateful.

She had been so worried in the lifeboat, when she had realized that
Titanic
was going to sink. She had had no idea where Carl was. She had not known if he had managed to get into one of the other boats, or if he was still on the ship.

Pansy had been wonderful. She had worked hard to keep her spirits up, saying she was sure that both Carl and Emilia would be in one of the other boats, but even so it had been an anxious time.

She could still remember the moment she had been brought aboard
Carpathia
on a bosun’s chair, and the first thing she had seen had been Carl, stretched out on the deck. He had just been lifted out of another lifeboat, where he had lain on the bottom in the freezing cold and soaking wet for several hours after being pulled out of the water. His skin had been blue. She had thought at first he was dead, but the ship’s physician had pronounced him to be alive and she had felt a huge wave of relief. Then Mr Donaldson had come on deck. He had kindly insisted on her having his stateroom, and she had gratefully accepted, following Carl as the stewards had carried him below so that she could put him to bed.

And there he had lain, more dead than alive, whilst she had tended him, with Pansy helping her. Pansy had been wonderful. She had stayed by Carl’s bedside each night so that Mrs Latimer could sleep, and had been a great source of comfort and consolation.

Gradually, Carl had started to show signs of life, and she was now trying to get him to take as much sustenance as she could.

‘You’ve got to have something,’ she told him. ‘The ship’s physician said you had to drink as much as possible. Try, please?’

‘I can’t,’ said Carl weakly. ‘Not until I know what’s  happened to Emilia. Are you sure she’s not on board? She should be. I saw her get into a lifeboat myself.’

His voice was a shadow of its former rich baritone. But he was as well as could be expected after spending so much time in the freezing waters of the
Atlantic
.

‘Pansy and Robert have been asking everyone on board,’ she said gently. ‘They’ve looked all over. No one’s seen her, and her name isn’t on the survivors’ list. I’m sorry, Carl.’

‘One of the other ships could have picked her up,’ he said. ‘I heard Captain Smith speaking to the first Officer. There were a number of ships on their way. The
Baltic
, the
Olympic
- any one of them could have taken her on board.’

None of the other ships answering
Titanic
’s distress call had rescued any survivors, but the fiction allowed Carl to hope, and hope was important to him if he was to regain his strength. So she said nothing.

‘I must find out when the other ships will be docking in
New York
,’ he said. ‘Then I can be there to meet them.’

‘Well, I’ll ask Captain Rostron when they’re going to get there,’ said Mrs Latimer. ‘Now, drink your tea.’

Reluctantly he took a sip, then another, and thanks to his mother’s coaxing he slowly drank the whole cup.

‘It makes a change to have you looking after me,’ he said with a weak smile.

‘I should think so too. When I think of how I stayed in bed all day, well, I can’t believe it. We’ll have you up in no time, as long as you do as I tell you,’ she said.

He smiled. But his thoughts could not be diverted for long. ‘How long is it until
Carpathia
reaches
New York
?’ he asked.

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