FORMALITY
Chapter Three
"Rob! No!" I squealed
with delight as he pulled me towards the second class stairs. I didn’t even
recognize my own voice. He took me down the winding stairs and out onto the
third class deck, where we stood in front of the blonde man, who had stopped
staring at whatever he was staring at before.
"Excuse me, but we couldn’t
help noticing that you carry a sketchbook with you. Do you mind if we take a
look at some of your work?" Rob asked politely, while I stood behind him,
my face beet red.
He looked up at us, and I knew
that he could tell that we weren’t third class by the way we were dressed. But
he still spoke to us like we were equal, which caught my attention.
"Oh, no, go ahead," he
said with a smile, and handed us his portfolio. We sat down on a nearby vacant
bench, and I looked out at the sea and realized that we were anchored off a
shore, taking on more passengers--from Ireland, I guessed.
In the man’s folder, there were
many drawings and sketches of people, some of which were nudes of women, and to
my surprise, Rob didn’t shield my eyes from them as most men would have done.
All the drawings were excellently drawn, as if in a dream. The hands and eyes
were most expressive, and stood out the most. Rob looked at one particular
drawing that wasn’t of a person, but the Eiffel Tower.
"Here’s your tower,
Belle," he said. It was a beautiful drawing, so full of life.
"It’s exquisite," I
breathed. Rob turned to the man.
"How much for this
drawing?" he asked him. The man and I were both surprised by this.
"Ten cents," he said,
looking from him to me and winking at me.
"How about fifteen for
bothering you?" Rob said, taking out a dime and a nickel. The man’s eyes
widened.
"Oh, it was no problem at
all. By the way, my name is Jack Dawson, and if you’re interested in any more
of my work, you know where to find me," he said, accepting the coins. I
stood up when Rob did, and took his arm.
"Thank you, Mr. Dawson. You
have a wonderful talent," I said, smiling.
"Thank you, miss, and
please, if we ever meet again, call me Jack," he said, smiling and waving
as we walked back up to the boat deck. Rob and I walked and continued our
conversation for a while more.
"He is a very talented
man," I said, looking at my drawing.
"Yes, very talented,"
Rob said. "Good thing I dragged you down there." I laughed, looking
into his deep green eyes.
"Thank you," I said
softly, "for the drawing, and for dragging me down there."
"You’re welcome."
I led him to my room, put the
drawing up against the mirror on my vanity and re-pinned my hair, and we
continued walking. Looking at my watch, the time reminded me that I had
reluctantly agreed to have lunch with my mother and sister in the Palm Court.
"I hate to end our lovely
conversation, but my mother and I are having lunch in the Palm Court right
now," I said to him once we reached the lifts.
"No problem," he said
casually. "May I lead you there?" We stepped into the middle lift.
"A Deck, please," I
told the operator. Turning to Rob, I said, "Yes, please." I couldn’t
hide the smile on my face, or the pure delight that I felt. This voyage had
been so good for me. On the A Deck covered promenade, on our way to the Palm
Court, Rob’s mother stopped us.
"Well, Robert, I see you’ve
made a new friend," she said kindly, smiling at me.
"Mother, I’d like you to
meet Isabelle Martin," Rob said proudly. "We literally ran into each
other last night."
"Nice to meet you, Mrs.
Wellington," I said.
"My pleasure, dear,"
she replied. "I’m sorry to have to steal him away from you, dear, but
Robert, we are meeting the Carters in the reception room."
Rob nodded, and then looked at
me.
"I’ll see you at dinner,
then?" he asked.
"Sure. You just might,"
I said, and watched them walk away. I resumed my route to the Palm Court, and
found Marie and my mother seated at a table with the Countess of Rothes. I took
the empty chair and prepared myself for boredom. I saw Molly Brown at a table
across the room and she winked at me. I smiled back. I’d have to tell her at
dinner about Rob, if she sat with us.
The Countess began describing the
details of the Hockley wedding that Ruth DeWitt Bukater had told her. I didn’t
think Rose was too thrilled with the match, though I’d only seen her once. She
didn’t look too happy. But it could be about something other than the marriage.
I was glad that my parents didn’t believe in arranged marriages. Otherwise, I
would have been living in pure hell.
I tuned out their voices and
thought of Robert. He was so kind to buy me that drawing. He truly was a
friend, and I was glad I had run into him when I had.
"Isabelle," my mother
said, bringing me out of my thoughts. "Did you enjoy the library?"
"Oh…um…yes, I did," I
lied. I was never there that day. I had to have an excuse to leave breakfast
and talk with Rob.
"She just loves to read. Her
own personal library back in Philadelphia is overwhelming. I wish she would put
as much interest in finding a suitable husband," my mother said. It was
just like her to talk about me right in front of me. My sister sneered at me. I
just blinked at her and focused on my food for the rest of the meal. It seemed
only minutes ago I was eating breakfast, but time flew when I was having fun
with Rob.
After lunch, I retreated to the
reading and writing room to write a letter to my friend, Nicole, in New York. I
told her of the splendor of the ship, the magnificent Grand Staircase, the
elaborate dining hall, and the comfortable staterooms. Of course, I had to tell
her about Robert. She would be so jealous. Her mother was considering arranging
a marriage for her, which I pitied her for. She was such a nice girl. Surely
someone would come along before her mother married her off to some pompous
fool.
After I had a steward post the
letter for me, I took my small copy of Futility out of my handbag, found
a comfortable chair, and began to read. I was halfway through it when I heard
the dinner bugle. Taking note of the page I was on, I put the book back in my
bag and went to my room to change for dinner.
Surprisingly, my mother never
questioned where I went after lunch.
I walked out into the hallway,
where I met my sister and my parents.
"You look wonderful,
Belle." My father smiled at me as he escorted my mother and me to the
Grand Staircase.
"Thank you." I smiled
back. The dress was long and the corset was stiff, which I’d gotten used to,
but also grown sick of. I do admit, the dress was stunning. It was a dark
green, with sequins and lace around the square cut neck. It had three quarter
length sleeves with small white gloves. The bottom of the dress was layered,
all layers cut parallel to the ground. My mother quickly eyed me to see if I
had worn a proper dress.
"You know, Isabelle,
Madeleine Astor is about your age, and she’s already married," my mother
said, obviously throwing me some kind of hint.
"Oh, Mother, I’m only
sixteen. And besides, you agreed to let me choose the man I want to
marry," I said.
"Then why haven’t you chosen
one yet?" she asked haughtily. I rolled my eyes, then looked to Father to
settle it.
"Dear, let her be. Like she
said, she’s still young," my father said, quieting my mother somewhat.
"But she should at least be
interested in looking, like Marie," my mother said, smiling over her
shoulder at my sister, who put on her know-it-all face. I took a deep breath and
let my anger melt away.
That night, at dinner, I scanned
the spacious dining saloon for those green eyes, and saw them at a table next
to us. We ended up seated so we faced each other, and in between courses, we
exchanged looks and smiles.
My family and I were dining with
the Strausses, a very nice elderly couple who owned Macy’s, one of my favorite
stores. Of course, Mother ran through every bit of gossip, and the men talked
about business and politics, leaving me out of their conversation. The room began
to get stuffy, and my head began to slowly spin. I closed my eyes and took a
sip of water, hoping that it would help, but I was wrong. When I looked up in
Rob’s direction, I was met with a concerned look. The room slowly stopped
spinning the longer I looked into his eyes, and I smiled reassuringly at him.
"Who are you smiling
at?" my mother asked, bringing my attention back to my table.
"Oh, no one," I said,
taking another sip of my ice water. I saw my mother scrunch up her nose and
frown at me. Suddenly, I felt the need for a nice, warm bubble bath, so I
excused myself at nine, and went back up to my room.
"Becky, can you come with me
and get a bubble bath ready for me, please?" I asked, unpinning my hair
and letting my blonde, wavy locks fall to my shoulders.
"Yes, miss," she said,
leaving the room to run a bath for me. The bath felt good, calming all of my
nerves. I sat and soaked up the steam for about a half an hour, then went back
to my room. On my way, my steward, Mark, stopped me in the hall.
"Excuse me, Miss Martin. I
have a message for you," he said as he handed me an envelope.
"From whom?" I asked,
taking it.
"A tall, brown-haired
gentleman, miss," he replied.
"Thank you," I said.
Robert. That was the only person it could be from.
"Will you be requiring
anything, then?" he asked.
"No, thank you, Mark. Good
night," I said.
"Good night, miss," he
said, continuing on his way.
I walked back to my room and
locked the door. I ripped open the envelope and pulled out a piece of White
Star Line stationery with neat handwriting on it.
Belle,
It was nice talking with you
today up top and seeing you at dinner tonight. As you might have seen, Mrs.
Brown was sitting with me and my family. She had much to say about you. She
said that you are a very intelligent young lady--you don’t need a genius to
figure that out--and that you are nothing like your mother and your sister. So
you’re Daddy’s girl, am I right? I hope we can talk in the future.
Yours,
Rob
PS. My stateroom is B63. Look
me up tomorrow.
PPS. You were beautiful
tonight.
My heart melted at the last line,
and I felt my cheeks get warm. The first thing I’d do in the morning is go to
his stateroom.