Omine Secundo

Promenade

FEBRUARY 14th, 1903 - Evening, at sea

Ada couldn't help a flurry of nerves as she readied herself for dinner. Usually, she didn't spend very long on her toilette, being of an age where she had come to know what flattered her face and figure in the way of dresses and hair; but tonight, she was uncharacteristically indecisive about her choice of outfit.

Even Julia hadn't been much help, and her attempts to joke Ada out of her nerves had only served to make things worse, being that Julia's idea of humour right now was to quip about what Ada & William's babies might look like. Ada had shooed her from the cabin then, knowing her face was as scarlet as the dress Julia had laid out for her from her own wardrobe. Having tried on and discarded several of her own gowns, Ada relented and pulled on the beaded ensemble along with its matching belt, which cinched in her waist prettily.

Red wasn't a colour Ada usually wore, but she had to admit that the fiery shade did something for her complexion, although she wouldn't have thought her reddish-brown hair would suit it, but the hue set her green eyes to advantage as she assessed herself in the stateroom mirror. The dress was much nicer than any she owned; Gerald could certainly afford it with his business enjoying a boom lately and Julia availed herself of the perks that enabled.

It was a moire silk with a gathered overlay of tulle net on the bodice which formed small sleeves which sat almost off the shoulder. Little fans of the tulle flowed from the back of the sleeve, almost like small wings, and the skirt skimmed the hips flowing outwards to the floor ending in a small train which could be hooked up for walking or dancing. Black glass bugle beads adorned various places over the skirt and bodice in small clusters that resembled stars, catching the light as she moved. She admitted that Julia had been right, although right now Ada wouldn't give her cousin the satisfaction of admitting it to her. She was already smug enough at having guessed correctly the day before about the fact that William would ask Ada to spend more time with him.

Ada wore simple accessories; her usual necklace, evening length white kid gloves and a black filigree comb that echoed the delicate trim of the gown. She didn't often dress up, but tonight she felt like she wanted to. Was it against everything she had always believed, to want to look pretty for a man? Some of the women in suffragette circles thought so, but Ada had always wondered, why couldn't she aspire to be more than 'just' what society expected of her, but a feminine woman too, if that is what she wanted? Why did it have to be smart or pretty? Why not both?

As she buttoned up her gloves, she pondered the thought. She wasn't dressing for just any man – she wanted to look nice for a man who cared about her feelings, who liked that she struck out on her own path and didn't necessarily do what others wanted or expected. Surely, that wasn't silly or frivolous? Her thoughts were interrupted by Julia knocking at her cabin door.

"Come on Ada, don't want to be late and keep your officer waiting, do you?"

Ada scooped up her evening bag and slung it over her wrist, glancing once more at the mirror. Not bad, she thought, although her heart skipped a beat as she wondered what William's favourite colour was. She hoped he liked red.

William's footsteps were even as he made his way down the portside of the promenade deck. The night was cooler than the last few days, but not unseasonably so. He'd spent his watch as he usually did – noting down position fixes in the log, receiving and recording messages from the wireless operator, and sweeping the dark horizon with his eyes, back and forth, keeping a lookout for any hazard which might pose a problem to their progress.

Now, his duty period for the night was over and he took out his watch, stopping beside a covered light on the deckhouse near the bridge to check the time. Half-past eight. Only thirty minutes until the time he'd asked Miss Banks to meet him, but it felt like an eternity. He returned the watch to his vest and fumbled in his pocket for his cigar case. No one was about at this time of night, as most passengers were dining or at cards. He knew a spot he could smoke and not be seen from the public areas, so he slowly made his way there. Plenty of time to enjoy his cigar and make it back to the reading room by nine.