My Clarity

Chapter one

''His intentions? Just how would you know what they are, Mr. Dawson?''

''I may be male, Miss, but we are not all gentlemen. I will say that much. I have been hurled all insults, been the forefront of much gossip but I have never been seen as a man of Society. Almost. They say. Almost a gentleman. But his intentions are entirely selfish, he cares nothing of you or your wellbeing. You're trapped and you'll die if you don't break free.''

''And I suppose you are the one to save me, Mr. Dawson? Then what, would your intentions be completely honourable?''

There was a pregnant pause. All silence seemed to be deafening. Crackling. The air about her seemed to be completely useless and breathing was difficult. It wasn't the strength of her corset stripping away the last remnants of oxygen, it was awaiting the answer which could change the course of her life. Everything.

His blue eyes pinned her to the spot. His hand tenderly at her cheek. Her stomach was a riot. His lips were set in a straight line, as though he was as troubled as she was.

She supposed he wouldn't answer. She supposed he didn't have an answer. A handsome man like he, with money readily available, would never have an intention to settle or marry but simply roam the world without a real goal in life aside from exploration, freedom and perhaps cavorting with ladies of leisure. The ones who were available. Widows...courtesans...perhaps, even the odd married one. What was she, a virgin, engaged to be married to his rival? An enemy perhaps. Hockley steel of Philadelphia and Dawson Steel of Boston had been competing for the latter half of the last century. It wouldn't cease now. No, it would not.

Now, the newly inherited Jack Dawson stood, both of his oddly trembling hands upon her cheeks. A grim sigh was exhaled and then she tilted her head, taking in his hauntingly beautiful face and then raised a brow.

''You have no intentions, Mr. Dawson. For all your words, yes, have been impressionable to me, but now, faced with it, there is nothing to be done. I will marry Cal. I love Cal.''

A deep rumble came from Mr. Dawson, his hand left her cheek momentarily to rake through his hair in that commanding, frustrated way and her attempts to look away from him were fruitless. She did want a response, if not for her own entertainment.

Finally, he was forced into something. An action. The thing he swore that he never would do. It left her wondering just how they had come to this...

Days earlier...

It signalled the end of the age of innocence, the guided Edwardian age...where science would allow us to master the world, bringing only change for the better in an upward spiral of peace, prosperity and enlightenment. Within the previous decade the automobile, the airplane, the electric light, wireless communication, telephones, motion pictures and Kellogg's Cornflakes had gone from invention to commonplace. There seemed to be no limit to what the human mind could accomplish. Man had mastered the physical world and civilised his own base nature.

Man had built the largest moving object. The most luxurious liner to cross the ocean. The blue ribband was in reach for the White Star Line and what a brilliance it would be, crowned the fastest ship of the Atlantic.

The Mauretania was now a ship of the past, once Olympic had been commissioned about eighteen months prior. That was the exact same time that Jack Dawson had learned of his uncle Eric's passing. A short illness had taken him. Before Jack could return from Paris, he was the wealthiest man in Boston and had inherited Dawson steel. From travelling alone, upon tramp steams and as a stowaway, then the boy who was barely out of adolescence was handed the deed to the business. The business which his uncle had built steadily and brilliantly. Upon his own parent's deaths in 1907, he had been sent to live with Eric, his paternal uncle, who whilst didn't agree with Jack's bohemian lifestyle, he would allow it for as long as he lived, with the promise that once Eric was in his grave then Jack would become the face of the steel business which had become his uncle's baby, for he could never produce an heir of his own. Sad, yes but also, an inconvenience for a man like Jack, who felt his life belonged on the road. He spent one year learning the ropes of the steel. The competitors. The money. The interiors and the exteriors. The employee's roles from mill hand to the top of the ladder and the fiddlers in between. Eric had paid for a tutor to sharpen his education to university level and had arranged for him to accompany him to several business meetings, exchanges and courthouses. Even then, Hockley steel was a rival, but even more interesting, it was specifically Nathan Hockley who was the enemy. Rivalry was needed. A dose of competitive action was healthy. This was not.