Hearts That Survive (9 page)

L
ydia stretched and moaned deliciously upon awakening. This was her wedding day. Looking at the canopy, she thought this a breakfast-in-bed kind of day. However, she decided to feast in her dressing gown near the fireplace. Her lips kept spreading into a smile with the thought that before this day was over she'd be a married woman.

When Marcella brought breakfast, she also brought a note from John.

Let's attend church this morning and thank the Lord for his goodness.

Lydia was tempted to say she was too busy for church. She was supposed to look at Harriett's wedding gowns. But one of the things she respected about John was his faith. And she did want to see him. Be near him.

She wrote back,
Yes, we'll do that.

She and John met outside their rooms. He took her hands in his. "I've missed you."

"Me too." She welcomed the touch of his lips on hers.

The service was held in the dining room. She hardly heard Captain Smith's sermon, nor could she concentrate on the meaning of "O God, Our Help in Ages Past," although she joined in singing. She even peeked at her husband-to-be during the closing prayer.

As soon as the service ended, Caroline came to them, followed by Lady Lavinia and Phoebe.

Caroline took her arm. "I must steal her away. Important business not for your eyes."

John nodded and walked over to where S. J. stood holding a sleepy little boy, who rested his head on S. J.'s shoulder.

"The wedding party members are probably waiting," Lavinia said.

Indeed they were. Molly and Madeleine were already ooohing and aaahing over the models parading through Harriett's room and the adjoining one, likely belonging to the top model and the seamstress.

They gathered at one end of the room. This was their own private showing of more than wedding gowns. The beautiful models entered and exited the bathrooms and glided through the rooms as if in a fashion parade.

Harriett explained that she was breaking the tradition of the rigid Edwardian styles. "No corsets. These are for comfort and casual elegance."

They all gasped when a model appeared wearing silk trousers. Spontaneous applause sounded along with exclamations of delight.

"I could not begin a showing with wedding gowns," Harriett said. "Now for the finale."

The model appeared, dressed in a gown grander than one could imagine.

"I've never seen anything like that one," Lady Lavinia said. "Is that crochet?"

"Every inch." Harriett swelled with well-deserved pride.

They were all amazed. Long sleeves, puffed above the elbows, frills, high neck, tight bodice, layers of form-fitting crochet bordered by more crochet in a different direction, and flared below the knees to the feet.

"That is so dramatic." Lydia had attended fashion showings in more than one country, her favorite being Paris. "I've never seen anything like it."

"There is nothing like it." Harriett's expression held mild censure. "These are originals. Is that the one you want?"

"I adore it. It's fit for a queen. But John and I aren't quite so flamboyant."

"Difficult to please, are you? Fine. Less flamboyance, Celeste!"

The bathroom door opened at the far end of the stateroom. That gown was worthy of any princess.

As the graceful model floated toward them, Harriett explained, "White silk." She circled her finger, and the model slowly turned. "Formfitting with simple lines. Wide back sash that gathers at the center with a bow."

"This," Harriett said, "may be worn as a wedding gown, formal dress, or dinner dress. It is tea length in front and comes just to the top of the ankles, which is of course shameless."

They all laughed. This garment was modest compared with her popular line of lingerie that raised many eyebrows.

"And," Harriett pointed out, "it's a couple of inches longer in back. The front bodice has a hand-decorated section of lawn material. The three layers of material hang in tiers to the floor. For a wedding there will be the addition of a veil."

Lydia could not imagine a gown more beautiful. "It's perfect."

"Try it on for fit," Harriett encouraged. Afterward, she examined it for any needed alteration. "Only a slight tuck in the waist is needed," she said with a glance at the seamstress.

They all agreed this was the one.

"Oh, I'm delighted," Harriett said. "And you're right, Lydia. You're more genteel than flamboyant. Besides, I could not part with the crocheted one. That's my showstopper." She grinned. "But I couldn't resist getting your reactions."

Judging from the awe on the women's faces, there would be purchases made here before these new fashions ever arrived in New York.

"And this is a wedding present," Harriett said, handing Lydia something wrapped in soft tissue.

Lydia moved the panels of the tissue and held up the garment.

"Oh, naughty," chided Caroline playfully.

Lady Lavinia said, "Don't look, Phoebe," and the young girl put her hands on her face, then peeked through her fingers.

Others reacted with mock consternation but followed with demands of when and where they might purchase her latest fashions.

"Well, I could be persuaded to have a showing for the passengers," she said. "Why wait for New York?"

"Lovely idea," Madeleine said, and they all agreed.

"You invite the men and you'll make a mint selling things like that." She pointed to the lingerie. "But let's get this wedding done first."

The wedding party, as Lydia had begun to think of them, ate lunch on Lydia's deck. They had to ensure everything would be as perfect as that wedding dress. Trunks would have to be brought up for the entire first class because as Molly said in a joking way that held truth, "The ladies can't wear their dinner attire to a wedding like this."

Lady Lavinia reminded them, "Every lady on the ship will have to get her hair done before dinner."

That afternoon Lydia's hair would not behave. She'd never seen Marcella so nervous. She burst into tears and could not tame Lydia's curls.

There was only one thing to do. "Get Caroline."

Caroline and Bess came in. Among the three of them, they accomplished a miracle. "Your curls shouldn't be tamed," Caroline said. "Let them fall across your forehead and these longer ones along your face."

She did like the effect, and Marcella stopped crying.

They would put the jeweled combs in later, making sure to leave room for fastening the veil.

Caroline felt she had plenty of time. Her hair was wavy. Bess never had any trouble sweeping it back into a roll above her ears or piled high on her head.

"The usual style, Bess. I'll just wear more jewels for the wedding."

"Yes, ma'am. Everything you will need is right in the top of your jewelry box. Rubies and diamonds for the dress. Emeralds for your eyes."

"My eyes are brownish."

"With a touch of green when you're happy."

Caroline glanced at her quickly through the mirror, but Bess kept looking at her hair, wearing her characteristic impassive expression. She recalled that in her young years she'd been told she had green eyes. They'd changed to hazel. She never really gave them much thought.

At the moment, she gave Bess some thought. Bess was a twenty-nine-year-old spinster. She'd been a governess in early days and that's the reason Caroline chose her among the household staff after her marriage to William. She wanted someone who would become familiar with her and the household. And Caroline would decide if she thought Bess would be good with children.

She did think so. But the children never came.

And Bess became more like a mother to Caroline. Gently patting the roll, Bess said, "There." She looked into the mirror. "You're a very beautiful woman, Mrs. Chadwick."

"Thank you." Caroline thought she looked like a proper, matronly woman.

She'd never asked if Bess had wanted to marry and have children. Maybe someday they could simply talk like one woman to another. But for now, there wasn't time.

That's what Lydia said when Caroline went to her room and told her it was time for dinner.

"I don't have time for dinner," Lydia wailed even as they headed for the dining saloon.

"But you must make an appearance," Caroline said needlessly. "The guests consider this your pre-wedding dinner."

"Oh, I'm glad I have you to think for me," Lydia said. "This is the most splendid wedding any girl could have."

"You'll be a prime target for the photographers the moment you step out onto the deck, and next week you'll be famous throughout the world."

Lydia raised her hand to her brow. "Was it only yesterday all I wanted was to marry John?"

Caroline shrugged. "This is the price you pay for being rich, beautiful, and on the most magnificent ship in the world."

Lydia grimaced. "Oh, the burdens we bear."

"Yes," Caroline agreed playfully. "Now we enter through those doors for your last dinner as a single woman."

At the table for the wedding party only, Caroline looked over the menu.

R.M.S. TITANIC

*

APRIL 14, 1912

First Course

HORS D'OEUVRE VARIES

OYSTERS

Second Course

CONSOMMÉ OLGA

CREAM OF BARLEY

Third Course

POACHED SALMON with MOUSSELINE SAUCE

CUCUMBERS

Fourth Course

FILET MIGNONS LILI

SAUTÉ OF CHICKEN LYONNAISE

VEGETABLE MARROW FARCIS

Fifth Course

LAMB, MINT SAUCE

ROAST DUCKLING, APPLE SAUCE

SIRLOIN OF BEEF, CHATEAU POTATOES

GREEN PEAS

CREAMED CARROTS

BOILED RICE

PARMENTIER & BOILED NEW POTATOES

Sixth Course

PUNCH ROMAINE

Seventh Course

ROAST SQUAB & CRESS

Eighth Course

COLD ASPARAGUS VINAIGRETTE

Ninth Course

PATÉ DE FOIE GRAS

CELERY

Tenth Course

WALDORF PUDDING

PEACHES IN CHARTREUSE JELLY

CHOCOLATE & VANILLA ÉCLAIRS

FRENCH ICE CREAM

She slipped a copy of the menu into her purse. Lydia might like that as a keepsake but seemed too excited now to think of anything.

They went through the usual number of courses, which seemed to go more quickly than usual. No one bothered their table, and after the men left, no one lingered.

Lydia worried, "It's so late and getting colder on the outside deck. I wonder if some will simply go to their rooms and turn on their heaters or get beneath the covers."

"Not a chance," Caroline rebutted. "Anybody who is anybody wouldn't miss this for the world."

Lydia laughed. "I've been a bridesmaid a couple of times. This hardly compares. I hope I won't fall down the staircase."

"Don't worry. There's not a chance of that."

Seeing the astonishment on Lydia's face, she laughed. "We have everything under control. We'll tell you every move to make, and all you need do is obey. After all, tonight you'll promise to love and cherish for the rest of your life and," she emphasized, "obey."

Lydia laughed with her and said, "I could manage a couple of those."

S
hortly before 10:00 p.m. Lydia, in the white wedding dress and veil, wondered if she would ever breathe normally again as she rode up in the elevator with Caroline.

"Stay close," Caroline instructed as they stepped onto the upper deck. The band played a tune Lydia didn't recognize.

"Stand behind me," Caroline said, "and you can peek around."

The sight was unbelievable. Below the staircase, more than three hundred people—it seemed the entire first-class—were adorned more elaborately than at the formal dinners. Jewels glistened more brightly than the chandeliers. Men stood in formal wear, gloves, white shirts, vests, and white bow ties.

Across the way, beyond the staircase, several people stood in a doorway facing her, and she knew John was there. Collette, a beautiful, widely acclaimed singer who had been pointed out to Lydia, walked to the edge of the railing near the clock.

The band played "Let Me Call You Sweetheart." Collette's beautiful voice seemed to rise up to the glass dome, over the guests on the deck, and out across the sea.

Even from a distance Lydia's gaze at John in the doorway said,
I'm in love with you.
He answered the words,
Say you love me too,
with an ever-so-slight dip of his head, and a smile curved his beautiful lips.

When Collette finished the song, Harriett appeared and quietly described the singer's gown to Lydia. Then she did the same for the captain, who walked from the opposite room to stand on the landing in front of the clock. He wore a white Edwardian tuxedo with miniature medals on his jacket and rank braid on the cuffs.

The band played "Be My Love," and Craven strolled across the deck and stood to the left of the captain. Craven looked perfect in his formal wear, but Lydia allowed him only a glance. John was the object of her attention.

Lydia's eyes did not veer from John as he took his place on the landing, in front of the space between the captain and Craven. He stood with his side to the staircase, waiting for her.

The onlookers seemed to fade away as if the only reality were she and John. She thought her heart might burst.

But reality made an appearance in the form of young Henry, when he caused a slight commotion. Lady Lavinia tapped his shoulder, and he moved forward. He looked adorable in his formal suit, tails, and white bow tie, and holding a white satin cushion with tassels at each corner.

Lavinia coughed lightly. Henry stopped, looked back, then walked backwards and took his place beside Craven.

A few amused murmurs sounded. Caroline whispered, "That's what an audience looks for. That moment when a child delights them with a light moment amid the seriousness. Reminds us we're human."

Lydia needed that. She was feeling like a princess.

"Now it's my turn," Caroline said. The band played, and she leisurely moved across the deck in her elegant pink and rose gown and gleaming jewels. She took her place near the right side of the captain. Lydia saw the look of delight on her face.

Lydia knew this wasn't the usual order of wedding procession. But, as many said, nothing on the
Titanic
was like anything in that other world out there.

"Now you, beautiful girl," Harriett prompted, and Phoebe began her slow steps along the deck, holding a white basket and dropping an occasional pink rose petal, the color of her satin and lace dress. The blush of youth adorned her cheeks. Her every gesture was perfect, and not a single shiny black curl moved.

A moment of silence followed. Glancing down, past the elaborate railing of iron scrollwork, Lydia glimpsed the happy, smiling faces of those who wanted to celebrate with her and John. Farther back were staff members and ship officers.

She ordered her tears not to fall.

Harriett handed her a bouquet of pink, red, and white roses tied with a satin bow and said, "Breathe, dear." The band began to play "The Bridal Chorus."

She hardly saw anyone, but kept her eyes on John, facing her. She reached him and took his outstretched hand. They stood for a moment looking at each other with their sides to the audience.

"The bouquet," Caroline whispered, and she handed it to her. She and John faced the captain.

"Who gives this woman to be wed?"

"We do," sounded a few feminine and a couple of masculine voices in unison. Lydia suppressed a nervous giggle. They'd rehearsed a few things without her knowledge.

"Dearly beloved," Captain Smith said solemnly. Lydia felt the light squeeze of John's fingers.

The only other time she held her breath was during the part about objections being stated or one should forever hold his peace.

He . . . did.

At the appropriate time, little Henry held out the cushion on which gleamed two golden wedding bands. One was Caroline's. John must have gotten the other one from the jeweler.

She could hardly believe the words, "I now pronounce you husband and wife."

There was a pause.

No applause?

The captain couldn't keep the humor from his face. "You may now kiss the bride."

John leaned toward her.

That's when the applause sounded. And the cheers.

For a moment she detected restraint in them both, but then she felt the touch of his hand behind her neck. She raised her face to his and closed her eyes and felt his warm, soft lips touch hers. They did not demand but rested gently, and she felt the overwhelming feeling of passion rising within her, so strong, so beautiful, so knowing they belonged together.

Their lips did not seem to move, and it was as if the life flowed from each and they truly became one. Like a first kiss. Like a first time.

The other time was forgiven and—

Well . . . forgiven.

John drew away and looked into her face with moist eyes, reflecting what she felt. Well-brought up men didn't cry in public, perhaps not at all. Ah, let them not. Her man did, because he loved her. And those were the first words he said to her as her husband.

"I love you."

"I love you right back."

As the applause receded, Caroline told her to stay there for a moment. "The photographers must have their day."

While she and John held hands and faced the guests, Lady Lavinia took Henry's hand. They descended the staircase amid applause.

Phoebe descended like a princess. Lydia knew that girl would never forget this night. She wouldn't be content to have an ordinary wedding after being a part of this.

With what Lydia called his practiced smile, Craven stepped up and offered his arm to Caroline. She handed the bouquet to Lydia and placed her hand on his arm, and they descended together.

The captain stepped up and put a hand on their shoulders. "Before I formally present the bride and groom, I believe they have a chore to perform. All the single ladies gather to my right and the single gentlemen to my left, please."

Several gathered, even some divorcees and widows. Phoebe was the youngest. When Lydia leaned over the railing and threw her bouquet, the older ones didn't attempt to catch it. It was caught by a young lady who looked to be about seventeen.

The captain smiled. "One more little chore." He gestured to a chair someone had set against the wall.

"Do the honors," said a voice that sounded like Molly's.

Lydia looked at John, and he shrugged. She walked over and sat in the chair, turning away from the crowd. John knelt in front of her.

Her ankles had been exposed for all to see, but the location of the garter was for John's eyes only. She'd placed it right above her knee. John discreetly removed it, stood, and held it up amid applause and a couple "Hear, hear's."

They walked to the railing.

"Come on, men," John said. "Chance of a lifetime."

Lydia was not surprised that only a few males gathered near where Craven had stopped at the landing, along with Caroline, now accompanied by William. They moved back, and S. J. walked up to stand beside Craven.

A couple of mature gentlemen and a couple of teens joined the group with sly glances toward the girl holding the bouquet.

Just as Craven stepped back to abandon the gathering, John tossed the blue garter. It sailed right to Craven's chest, and his automatic instinct was to raise his hand and catch it. Although he shook his head as if this was totally unexpected and unwanted, he nevertheless had the garter and was applauded.

"Now if the bride and groom will step this way, please."

Finally, she could descend that staircase. The photographers had been primed and snapping from the outset. She felt as though she was in a perpetual pose, and she was loving every minute.

"Right here, please," the captain said. She and John walked over and stood in front of him at the top of the staircase. He spoke firmly, "May I present the first couple to exchange vows on the greatest ship ever built. Mr. and Mrs. John Mark Ancell."

Oh, my, she'd never heard such a rowdy-sounding crowd of refined ladies and gentlemen. But as many had said, this was a once-in-a-lifetime event, worthy of celebration.

John offered his arm. While the band played, they slowly made their way down the grand staircase, while the guests clapped hands in time with the rhythm of the band. She looked up once at the great glass dome and remembered someone had called this the stairway to heaven.

She had ascended and descended the staircase as a single girl. But this was different. Another first. She and John descended as husband and wife, and with a blessing only he and she were privileged to know.

She was happier than at any moment in her life. She, on a ship of dreams, walked down the grand staircase with the man she loved, and they would spend the rest of their lives together.