𝒔𝒂𝒖𝒅𝒂𝒅𝒆 ☽ titanic {tommy ryan}

V

As Lucy got to her cabin, she closed the door quietly, and found Elizabeth standing by her bed who had already laid out a gown of her mother's choosing.

"Evening, miss," her servant said. 

Lucinda smiled, studying the ugly dress. "My mother expects me to wear this?"

"I do," her mother's voice rung in her ears. "Leave us, Elizabeth."

Curtsying, the girl vacated the room, leaving the mother and daughter.

"Now, are you going to tell me where you have been all day?" Ruth demanded. "I know you weren't in the baths, Madeleine knew nothing of it."

Shrugging, Lucy went over to her wardrobe to pick out an alternative gown. "I was just speaking with people around the ship."

"People?" Ruth slammed the wardrobe door, almost on her daughter's fingers. "Or one person? A person whom you should not be associating with?"

"I--"

"And what, you have been getting defiled as a slut would? Do you have any idea what that would do to our--"

Astonished, Lucy snapped in anger. "Shut your mouth. That's not what happened, at all!"

Ruth slapped her clean across the face. "How dare you speak to me in that manner? Who do you think you are?"

"I'm a person, Mother, not a vanity project," Lucy hissed, feeling the urge to even slap her back. "How many times must I remind you? I am of age to make my own decisions now, I am not your toy. Neither is Rose."

"I have just had the same conversation with the latter," Ruth retorted. "You girls are out of control. You know nothing of the etiquette, respect needed from a girl of your upbringing. I suggest you snap out of it at once."

"Snap out of what? Wanting something more than riches and that same, circus-routine you have raised us on?"

"Ah, now you sound like your father," Ruth pointed a slim finger at her. "I can see where you get it from. He is not around anymore to defend your absurd choices, Lucinda, it is me who will tell you what's best for you."

"What's best for me isn't you, and let me remind you that I am only still here because of Rose," Lucy clasped her wrist. "Once we get away from your poisonous grasp, that's it. You will have lost."

Ruth's eyes widened in slight fear, and she wondered where her daughter had gotten the guts from. "Who have you been with all day, Lucinda?"

"Tommy Ryan," Lucy answered confidently, making room on the bed for the dress she wanted to wear. Black lace with a sea green underskirt. "An Irishman from third class."

She fed off of Ruth's facial expression, almost evilly. "He's lovely, won't you meet him?"

"No, I will not," Ruth responded spitefully. "Not that I have any need to. Besides, once we arrive in New York, he will be nothing but part of the crowd, polishing your shoes and serving your caviar."

Lucy's stomach dropped as she heard her mother speak of him that way, and she moved uncomfortably close to her. "Try and stop me from doing the same, Mother. For he is charming, pleasant, and he listens to me."

"He wants your money."

"No, that's what you wanted out of father," she spat. "Tommy is kind, pure of heart and steadfast, he knows what he wants to be. Those are the kind of people I want to surround myself with, not your venomous recital, I have had enough."

"So, what?" Ruth started laughing at what she was about to say. "You want to leave with him, get pregnant and live in the gutter?"

"I can't imagine that it wouldn't be better than living with a mother who traffics her daughters to keep the little reputation she has," Lucy said, and she felt herself losing control over the words she spoke. "At least I would be with someone who I can stand, who I love..."