My Story: R.M.S Titanic [Completed]

9: A Conversation

About thirty minutes after my father was dragged away, I sat with Scott on the couch as I patted the few places that my father was able to get a few contact points on. I knew my eyes were watery and puffy from crying but I had to help my fiancé since he was knocked around a little.

"You know you can cry in front of me, Mae. I won't judge you for it," he said as I dipped the rag into a bowl of water.

"What is there to cry for? My father disapproves of my advancement so all I need is you, who will support me," I said. He touched my face and I looked at him.

"You held yourself well," he said.

"And you stayed out of the way," I commented as I dabbed his cheek to make sure that it didn't swell up.

"I didn't want to insult you by stepping into what you were doing," he said as he stared straight ahead. I put my hand down and stared at him. He looked at me and we studied each other's faces.

"Thank you. That meant a lot," I said as I brought my hand back up as I cleaned the rest of the blood off of his face.

"Mr. Ismay told me that the dresses and suits and everything else will be here at noon along with a maid and manservant that are willing to keep a secret," he said. I looked at my lap.

"This is our new life, Scott. We don't have to work another day in our lives," I said. He took my hand and squeezed.

"We've earned it more than the first class people that are going to be around us," he said. I looked at him and he cocked his head at me.

"That's besides the point. It means so many more things than the fact that we don't have to work," I said. He moved a strand of hair that had fallen from the up do I did after my father was taken away.

"Like what?" he asked.

"As brave as I acted about growing up in the slums, and believe me when I say that I proud of being raised in the slums, but it was scary place to be raised in," I said.

"Like what?" he asked. He seemed really interested about my life and why I would want to be out of the hell that was life for fifteen years until I moved to Paris.

"Have you ever heard of the w***e house districts?" I asked as I put the bowl on the table and looked at him.

"Once or twice. Prostitution centres is what seamen say," he said as I drew my legs up onto the couch.

"I was certain I would end up there in order to make ends meet. London slums is where dreams die and I think that's why my father is so against a marriage between us where we advance so quickly," I whispered as I watched his expression.

"I will make sure that you are okay and never have to work in the red light district as long as we are married," he said. I hugged him and he hugged me back. "Let's get some breakfast and take another walk around the ship then hopefully the clothes and maid and manservant will be here by then."

"That sounds pleasant," I said as I stood. He offered his arm that I took gently.

***

After breakfast, we ended up not going for the walk that we had planned to take on Deck Boat, where many of the lifeboats were stored, we ended up on the Promenade Deck's reading and writing room. I sat reading a book by William Shakespeare. I believe it was Hamlet. Scott was standing in the window as he sipped his whiskey. I noticed he liked his whiskey but I hadn't seen him over due it.

"How old are you?" I suddenly asked, breaking the easy silence between the two of us.

"Twenty one," he said, turning around. I nodded and continued reading the words of Shakespeare. We continued our silence.

Life seemed so calm. All the officers were catering to us and not looking at us like we were below them. I was constantly asked if I would like something and I would blush when they called me Miss or ma'am. Scott was treated like the most important person and he seemed on edge that he didn't have to anything.

In addition, we seemed to work well with each other regardless of just meeting one another. Silence wasn't lonely with him, it was reassuring that he would take care of everything. The night before, even though we just slept face to face with our hands tucked under our heads as we watched each other be consumed by sleep, was something that I had watched my parents have until my mother died. I always wanted something like that. Like this.

"Miss Morgan? Mr. Sire?" a woman's voice said as the door opened. We both looked towards the door and there stood a maid.

"Yes? How may we help you?" Scott asked. A man stepped in behind the woman and they both bowed their heads.

"I am Emma and this is Robert. We are at your service," the woman said. I looked at Scott.

"I am assuming our clothes came as well?" I asked while keeping my eyes on Scott.

"I would assume that as well," Scott said.

"Your clothes did arrive as well and I'm pleased to announce that we have placed all your belongings in your respective closets for you," Robert said. I stood as I bookmarked my page and Scott took the book from me.

"Thank you for that information," I said.

"You are dismissed until an hour before dinner. Mr. Ismay wants to have dinner with us and we cannot be dressed in day wear," Scott said.

"Yes, sir." Emma and Robert both left and I looked at Scott.

"You are a natural," I said.

"Well, I have to make sure I can support your life and that includes dealing with people the first class has deemed less worthy," he said. I laughed and he smiled at me.