ROSE DEWITT BUKATER BEFORE TITANIC
Chapter Four
Rose walked out of
the park beside Cal in silence, her thoughts turned inward. Though they passed
other people, who nodded and greeted them, she barely noticed them, giving them
only the most perfunctory of greetings. Cal looked at her in annoyance, but
Rose ignored him.
The previous night
had been terrible. Rose had followed Cal up to his quarters, unaware of what he
had in mind, or of how inappropriate her actions were considered. There were
rules for nearly every facet of high society life, but this was a situation she
had never encountered before. She had known, of course, that she shouldn’t go
to a man’s home and visit his quarters without a very good reason, but for the
time being, she and her mother were living with the Hockleys. It simply hadn’t
occurred to her that it might be a bad idea to visit the quarters of her fiancé
while she was a guest in his home.
She still didn’t
understand that her actions were viewed as inappropriate, but Cal did. Knowing
how resistant she was to the idea of marriage—not just to him, but to any man
at her young age—he had invited her upstairs, sensing her naiveté and counting
upon either Rose’s shame at what was going to happen, or the ensuing scandal,
to get him what he wanted—Rose as his bride.
The DeWitt Bukaters
were a highly respected family in Philadelphia society, even if they had fallen
upon hard times in the past few years, though Cal doubted that Rose was aware
of her family’s precarious financial situation. He had not been fully aware of
it, either, until Ruth had brought up the need for a proper marriage to one of
the better men of society. The Hockleys were highly respected themselves, so
such an alliance was not unusual, but he hadn’t missed her covetous attention
to the fine things the Hockleys owned, or to their lavish lifestyle. It hadn’t
taken much thought for him to discover Ruth’s real motives.
There was little
that went on around him that Cal missed. Over the years, he had grown adept at
reading people, at discovering their motives, desires, and weak spots. This
innate talent had served him well since he was a young boy, almost invariably
netting him whatever he desired—be it some expensive toy as a child, the
attentions of a girl as an adolescent, or a lucrative business deal as a man.
Now, his sights were set on Rose.
In spite of the
DeWitt Bukaters’ questionable finances, Rose was considered one of the finest
young ladies of Philadelphia high society, promising to bring her high status
and family connections to whatever man she married. In spite of her youthful
naiveté and the occasional hint of a wild streak, she was considered an ideal
bride—young, beautiful, and possessing high status and important connections.
It was for these reasons that Cal wanted her.
At thirty, he had
passed the age at which many men married, and his father had been pressuring
him to choose a bride and produce an heir. Cal had been in no hurry to marry—he
preferred the freedom of being single—but he knew that his father was right. It
was his duty to produce an heir for the Hockley empire. Still, he wanted the
honor and status of having a family, of having a perfect wife and an heir,
without the responsibility. His money afforded him the ability to go where he
wanted and to do as he pleased, but he knew that a wife would expect more
stability and a more respectable life.
Marrying a woman
near his own age was out of the question. Unmarried women in their late
twenties were considered to be old maids, the bloom of youth faded unused. A
widow would expect more of him than he wished to give in terms of fidelity and
respectability, and might bring with her children who would compete with his
own offspring for power. And marriage to a divorcee was completely unacceptable.
The scandal alone would taint his name for years to come.
A young bride, a
new debutante, was the only answer. The carefully groomed young women of high
society were highly desirable as brides, particularly those who were wealthy,
well-connected, and beautiful. He had his pick of brides. More than one
marriage-minded mother had pushed her daughter in his direction, dazzled by his
high status and wealth, but it was Rose that had caught Cal’s eye, Rose whose
family finances were precarious enough to make her an easy catch. And she was
young and beautiful, young enough to be charmed easily, and yet too young to
know what to do if the marriage proved to be less than she had hoped.
Rose, however, had
surprised him. She was beautiful, charming, and well-connected, but she also
possessed an independent streak that he had not expected. She didn’t feel ready
for marriage, though many young women her age were already married or engaged.
Ruth had been adamant that Rose marry soon, and well, before her intelligent,
independent daughter brought about trouble or caused a scandal. Rose’s
resistance had brought Cal to formulate his plan to shame her into the
marriage, something he was sure Ruth would have approved of, inwardly at least,
had she known.
But Rose was aware
of none of this. She was shamed and humiliated, to be sure, but these emotions
only made her more determined to get out of her engagement. Cal, for all that
he had appeared charming, was not the man she had thought he was, and she had
never wanted the engagement in the first place.
Last night had been
the worst night of her life—worse even than the night she had learned that her
father had died suddenly from a stroke. She had loved her father, but they had
never been close, and though she had mourned him, his loss had not had such a
profound effect on her as the betrayal of the trust she had put in Cal.
She had innocently
followed Cal up to his quarters, wondering about the place where he spent much
of his time when he was home. No one had commented on their departure, and even
Spicer Lovejoy, Cal’s valet, had made no move to follow them. Looking back,
Rose realized that she should have been suspicious, but it had never occurred
to her that Cal wanted to do more than show her his quarters.
It was only after
they had gone inside his bedroom, and Cal had locked the door, both to keep
them from being disturbed and to prevent Rose from escaping, that she became
nervous. Something hadn’t felt right, but she hadn’t been sure of what it was.
It was only when Cal began kissing her—kisses that were much more than she
would have expected from a man she didn’t know well—and asked her to make love
with him that she had understood why she was so uncomfortable.
She had told him
no, protesting that she wanted to remain a virgin until she married, but her
protests had only served to inflame him further. He had pushed her down on the
bed, slapping her until her struggles ceased, and feverishly pushed her layers
of clothing aside. Holding a hand over her mouth to keep her quiet, he had
proceeded to force himself upon her.
Rose shuddered,
remembering the tearing, stabbing pain of his invasion—a pain that, while it
had eased somewhat, was still with her this morning. No amount of renewed
struggling had stopped him, nor had her attempt to bite his hand and scream for
help. And by the time he was finished, and had straightened her clothes and
covered her shivering body with a blanket, there had been no use in crying out.
What was done was done.
Rose had curled up
into a ball and cried with pain and humiliation, while Cal, seemingly
unconcerned, had gone into his study, pouring himself a brandy and ignoring her
sobs. She had finally cried herself to sleep, awakening the next morning in her
own bed, wearing her nightgown and showing no signs of the previous night’s
assault.
But the pain was
still there, deep inside, and the slip she had worn the previous evening had
been stained with her virgin’s blood. There was no doubt that she had been
violated, even though she had given no sign of what had happened to anyone
else, even Trudy, the maid who helped her wash and dress.
Now, as they
approached the sprawling, elegant Hockley mansion, Rose could think of only one
thing—she had to get out of the engagement. She could not spend her life with a
man who would force himself on her, long before the marriage itself took place.
She glanced at Cal, showing no outward sign of how much she loathed him,
thinking only of how she might break the engagement.
She had to get out
of this situation, one way or another.