Open Water

The sensation of being out on the open water was thrilling. Carrie could stand on the balcony in her first class accommodations and stare out at the water all day. Unfortunately, she heard the sound of bugles blowing announcing it was almost time for dinner and had to pull herself away.
Jonathan knocked on the door that separated their two rooms. “Yes?” she called, turning and walking back into the living room.
“Are you about ready, my lady?” he asked with a cordial smile.
“I am,” she said, her arms spread slightly to show her new gown. “Do you think I can pass as a lady? Or will I stick out like a sore thumb?”
“Well,” Jonathan began, scratching his chin, “you’re not exactly my type.” That made her giggle. “But I think you look pretty… amazing.”
“Thank you.” Carrie felt her face heat, even though Jonathan’s admiration was strictly of the friendly variety. She did like the blue dress Ms. Meg had helped her pick out. With jeweled fringe, the gown hung down to the new strappy blue shoes she’d also purchased. With earrings she’d borrowed from Meg, in a silver that complimented the dark blue, she felt like she could truly pass for a lady, not someone’s servant.
“Shall we?” Jonathan stepped forward and offered his arm.
“Yes, let’s.” Carrie wrapped her arm through Jonathan’s, and the two of them headed out of her room. He looked debonair in a suit that could’ve just as easily come from Charlie’s closet. Though it was strange to see Jonathan without his signature bowler hat. Carrie assumed he wasn’t wearing it that evening because he thought it was inappropriate for dinner. His dark hair looked nice slicked back. “You know,” she began, keeping her voice low, “you could pass for a gentleman.”
Snickering, Jonathan replied, “Don’t let Edward hear you say such things. He’ll expect far too much of me.”
Again, Carrie found herself giggling gleefully. But she had to wonder–would Jonathan ever step out on his own? He’d most certainly obtained a bit of wealth over the years working for such a generous employer. She decided now wasn’t the time to ask since they were approaching the grand dining room.
Carrie sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. She had seen the First Class dining room on the Mauretania, but she hadn’t walked into it as her own person, unattached to anyone else. Now, she’d have to stand on her own two feet. Thank goodness Jonathan was there with her. He certainly knew how to convince everyone that he belonged there.
“Mr. Lane, Ms. Boxhall,” the well-dressed man at the door greeted them. “Right this way.”
Carrie turned and lifted her eyebrows to Jonathan, wondering how in the world he knew who they were, but when Jonathan flashed her that dazzling smile of his, she understood. He must’ve made sure they had satisfactory dinner accommodations while she’d been standing on the balcony staring out at the sea.
Jonathan pulled Carrie’s chair out for her, and she thanked him before sitting. He sat on her left, leaving a few empty chairs on her right for guests who hadn’t arrived yet. As they waited for dinner to begin, Carrie looked around the room. She didn’t see anyone she recognized, but the stunning outfits, the jewels and furs, and the demeanor with which everyone handled themselves assured her she was in the midst of high society.
Jonathan leaned over and whispered into her ear, “That gentleman there is Lindon Bates, the politician,” he whispered. “And over there, that woman in the red dress is Frances Stephens, the socialite.”
“Oh, my,” Carrie said, trying not to stare as Mrs. Stephens turned in their direction. Jonathan continued to point out several ladies and gentlemen of note until the people at their table introduced themselves.
The gentleman across from her offered his hand. “Frederick Pearson.”
“Delighted to meet you.” She shook his hand, noting the firm grip of a businessman, though she had no idea who he was. “Carrie Boxhall.”
“The pleasure is all mine. This is my wife, Mabel.”
The woman nodded with a smile but didn’t extend her hand. Carrie returned the smile, but then her eyes were drawn away to the two empty seats beside them as two people walked toward them. The attractive couple was clearly not a couple at all, though it seemed they knew one another. The woman, who appeared to be a couple of years younger than Carrie, was strikingly beautiful, and Carrie thought she recognized her from somewhere.
The gentleman wore one of the finest suits she’d ever seen. His dark eyes met her gaze, and a wry smile pulled up the corners of his mouth. Again, there was something familiar about him, but she wasn’t quite sure what it was that made her feel that way.
“Well, look here, Emily,” the newest arrival said to his companion as they reached their seats, “you’re not the only gorgeous woman at our table tonight.”
As if on cue, Mabel Pearson said, “Why, thank you, Victor.”
His eyes widened slightly, and everyone shared a chuckle. “Naturally, I meant you as well, Mrs. Pearson,” he said, his cheeks turning a bit pink. He pulled the seat out for the woman who would be sitting beside him, Emily, and the two of them joined their little group.
“I’m just teasing you, Victor.” Mrs. Pearson’s tone was a bit flirtatious, and Carrie could hardly blame her. The man was awfully attractive. “I’m certain you meant Ms. Boxhall.”
“Ms. Boxhall?” Once again, those dark eyes were on her. “Oh, yes. I most certainly did. It’s a delight to meet you.” He offered his hand, but it was clear from the way he was holding it out that he didn’t mean to shake hers. Rather, he intended to place a kiss on the back of her fingers.
Carrie’s breath caught in her throat as she obliged. His lips, warm and soft, lingered a bit too long, making her uncomfortable for reasons she couldn’t quite understand. This attractive, obviously wealthy, man was paying more attention to her than any man had in a number of years, and yet, she heard alarm bells going off in the back of her head the same way she would if there was a structure fire downtown in New York City.
“Oh, Victor, stop.” Emily swatted at him until he released Carrie’s hand, but Victor’s eyebrows danced with mirth. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“What? She’s a gorgeous woman, and you’ve already turned down my every advance, Miss Harris.”
“I may be Miss Harris to the masses, but you and I both know I’m Mrs. Stein now, Victor, and I’d prefer it if you kept that in mind.” She gave him another look that could only be described as annoyed before turning to Carrie. “It’s lovely to meet you, Ms. Boxhall.”
“Carrie, please,” she found herself correcting. With their exchange, she’d finally realized who she was looking at. “I just loved your last picture show. You were absolutely mesmerizing in it.”
Emily’s cheeks pinked. “Oh, thank you, dear. That’s very kind of you to say.”
“It’s true.” Carrie found herself suddenly in a situation where she might lose her composure over the woman sitting across from her. She took a deep breath and tried to rein it in, but it was difficult. She’d been around plenty of socialites, but Emily Harris was a movie star.
“What about me?”
The man to her right, the one who’d escorted Emily in, Victor something-or-other, suddenly needed her attention. “Pardon?”
“Oh, come on, sweetheart. Don’t pretend you didn’t recognize me.”
Carrie turned to look at Victor with discernment. She had to admit he did look familiar, though she couldn’t remember seeing him in any picture shows. She shook her head slightly, her mouth hanging open.
Just then, the wait staff came over to their table, pouring wine and offering selections. It was distraction enough that Jonathan was able to whisper in her ear. “Victor Anderson, Carrie. The millionaire.”
Carrie gaped at him, almost as shocked now as she had been before when she couldn’t place the man. “Are you serious?”
Jonathan nodded. “Certain.”
Carrie swallowed down the lump that had begun to form in her throat. Victor Anderson came from one of the wealthiest families in all of New York—all of America, for that matter. His reputation as a playboy preceded him. She’d seen him at plenty of gatherings but hadn’t had the chance to look at him this closely. Most of the time, she’d been relegated to some other room amongst the servants pretty quickly after that.
Her thoughts immediately went to her last encounter with Mr. Anderson, rather, with his liegeman, and her stomach twisted into a tight knot. That had been several years ago. Surely, he wasn’t here….
“Is something the matter, Carrie?” Victor asked, that smirk on his face that showed he knew he was the richest man on the ship. “You look unwell.”
“I’m fine, Mr. Anderson,” she said with as much confidence as she could muster. “Delighted to be in your company.”
“So you do recognize me?” Somehow, his tone increased in arrogance, something she wouldn’t have thought possible. “What is a lovely little thing like you doing on a big boat like this?”
Next to her, she felt Jonathan’s leg muscles tighten, despite the fact that there were a few inches between them. She could simply sense his discomfort, most likely because she felt the same way.
“I’m going to Liverpool, of course,” she said smartly. That got a chuckle out of everyone else at the table.
It did not deter Victor one bit. Leaning in so close that she could feel his warm breath on her cheek, he asked, “Business… or pleasure?”
The innuendo wrapped around that last word left Carrie with a sinking feeling as if the boat beneath her had suddenly plummeted to the bottom of the Atlantic. She had seen that look in men’s eyes before, that one that told her he was on the prowl, and Victor Anderson had set his eyes on her as his next prey.
“Business,” she managed to get out.
The scent of mint tangled with cigar smoke on his exhale had her leaning away. “There’s always room for a bit of pleasure, isn’t there, darling?”
Carrie stared, dumbfounded. She’d never had a man of his stature be quite so forward with her, and she wasn’t sure what to say.
Thankfully, Jonathan didn’t hesitate. “I do believe Ms. Boxhall will be too busy with her work to spend much time with anyone on this trip, Mr. Anderson.”
Victor’s gaze continued to linger on her face until Carrie pulled her eyes away. Then, he cleared his throat and turned to Jonathan. “Mr. Lane, isn’t it?” he asked. Jonathan nodded. “Aren’t you Charlie Ashton’s man?” Before Jonathan could reply, Victor looked around the large, opulent dining room. “I don’t see Ashton anywhere.”
“Mr. Ashton is at home. His wife is about to give birth. I am also his business partner,” Jonathan said in a tone that made Carrie believe it as well. Was he?
Victor nodded, not questioning Jonathan’s stature at the moment, though the implication was there. Why was he in the First Class dining hall when he was nothing more than a servant? A commoner?
But then, if Anderson knew the truth about her, wouldn’t he say the same thing?
Or would he assume that she was easy, the kind of girl he could manipulate because she was in want of… everything?
It was Emily who broke the awkward silence. “Mr. Pearson, you must tell us of your innovations in electrical streetcar designs. Such findings fascinate me.”
“I’d be happy to tell you what I’m working on,” Mr. Pearson said with a soft smile. He began to discuss the changes he was making as a consultant on several projects across the continent.
Carrie listened in, tried to enjoy her meal, and did her best to ignore the near constant stare of Victor Anderson. As a millionaire, Mr. Anderson was used to getting what he wanted.
He was about to be sorely disappointed.