Rumors
Dinner was just as much a whispering, staring match as breakfast had been, but by now, Charlie no longer cared at all what the other First Class passengers had to say, and a few times when he caught gloved hands covering faces, obviously speaking about him, he waved across the room, causing the mumbling ninnies to blush in embarrassment.
“Heard you had a bit of excitement on the Third Class promenade this morning, Charlie,” Molly mentioned with a knowing smile halfway through the event.
“We did,” Charlie affirmed. “Lots of excitement indeed, Ms. Molly.”
“What happened?” one of the older gentlemen at the table asked.
Charlie realized all eyes were suddenly on him. They were probably wondering what he was doing on the Third Class promenade in the first place. Well, if they wanted to know, they had better muster the courage to ask. Otherwise, he would answer the question with as little detail as possible. “A child almost fell off the railing, and when her father and I went to retrieve her, we collided and he broke his arm.”
“Oh, my,” the gentlemen’s wife exclaimed. “Was the child all right?”
“She was fine, as was her father, after a nice long visit to the hospital,” he assured them.
“You know, these Steerage passengers just don’t have a handle on their children,” a shrewd looking woman at the far end of the table offered to those sitting closest to her. “You’d never see that sort of behavior out of a First Class passenger’s child.” There were several nods of agreement.
Charlie couldn’t help but take offense. After all, this woman was talking about his Ruth. “I don’t think it’s fair to make such generalizations,” he said calmly.
“Oh, please,” she continued, “all one has to do is peer below deck, and you’ll see those children running around like wild animals. Our children, on the other hand know how to play properly.”
“Mrs. Appleton, is it?” Charlie asked, waiting for her to nod an acknowledgement before continuing. “Saying that all Third Class children are wild animals while all First Class children are well behaved is rather like saying all Third Class women are respectful and courteous while all First Class women are gossip mongers who can’t keep their long noses out of other people’s business. Just because I can name several dozen examples of the latter doesn’t make my generalization truth, does it?”
The woman looked very offended. “Are you saying that members of your own class don’t know how to keep to themselves better than the fodder on the decks below us, Mr. Ashton?” she asked.
“No, of course not, Mrs. Appleton,” he replied. “That’s my point exactly. Such statements only make one sound foolish, wouldn’t you agree? Therefore, I shall be sure not to lump you and yours into any preconceived groups if you think you can do the same. What do you say, Mrs. Appleton? Seems like a fair bargain, doesn’t it?”
“Of course, I can,” she agreed. “But I will say, you seem a bit bitter in regards to woman of stature all of a sudden, Mr. Ashton,” she said haughtily, a knowing smile playing at her lips.
“And the fact that you would say it proves my summation without me having to make any sort of statement at all,” he replied.
Molly burst out laughing, clapping loudly as well, which drew the attention of many of the surrounding tables. “That was a good one, Charlie!” she exclaimed. “I really like you, young man,” she continued.
Charlie could feel the color rising in his cheeks, not from the exchange with Mrs. Appleton, who was of little consequence to him socially or professionally, but because of the attention Molly’s boisterousness always seemed to draw. “Thank you, Mrs. Brown,” he said quietly.
“From all the accounts I heard, and there were a lot of them—after all, I am a First Class female passenger—you were a hero today. You saved that little girl’s life, and you helped her daddy to the hospital. Now, that’s the kind of young men our society needs to raise, regardless of stature or social class.”
Someone at the other end of the table proposed a toast, which even Mrs. Appleton was inclined to participate in, and Charlie did his best not to show how extremely uncomfortable he was. Luckily, as soon as the toast was over, someone changed the subject, and he was able to sink back into oblivion without anyone noticing.
When dinner was over, he was obliged to walk Mrs. Brown to the staircase before making his way to the Smoking Lounge. Mr. Astor had caught him earlier and reminded him of his commitment, as if he could have forgotten. “Don’t you worry about ol’ Mrs. Appleton,” Molly assured him. “A lot of nerve she’s got talkin’ about kids. She don’t even have any.”
“I shouldn’t have gotten so offended,” Charlie admitted. “It’s just, she doesn’t know the parents, and she doesn’t know the child.”
“And you do?” Molly asked. Charlie nodded. “Good. Took my advice then, did you?”
“Not exactly,” he replied. “Something like that.”
Molly was grinning from ear to ear. “That’s my boy!” she said. “Ooh, when do I get to meet her?”
“I didn’t even say there was a her, Molly,” he replied, trying to back his way out of her game of Twenty Questions.
“Course you did,” she replied. “Invite her to dinner tomorrow night.”
“There’s no way she’ll come,” he replied sharply.
“Course she will. Who could resist you and your boyish charm?”
He was afraid she might reach up and pinch his cheek at any moment. “She wouldn’t have anything suitable to wear,” he reminded her.
“That’s all right. I’ll find her a nice dress. Nothin’ I have’ll probably fit her, but I got friends. Can you imagine the looks on the faces of those busybodies when you walk in here with some beautiful girl they don’t even know? That’ll set their heads a spinnin’. Come on now, Charlie. Let’s not miss this opportunity to mess with their minds.”
Charlie looked down at her, a questioning expression on his face. “I thought you wanted to invite her for her own sake, not the opportunity to screw around with other people’s sense of entitlement.”
“Oh, that, too,” she replied. “Don’t make me follow you around all day tomorrow until we bump into her now, you hear?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he promised as they reached the grand staircase.
“That’s my boy!” she said again, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before heading upstairs, leaving him shaking his head, wondering what he’d gotten himself—and Meg—into. He was quite certain there was nothing he could say to convince her to join him, but he would try, not only for her own sake (after all, how many opportunities did a Steerage passenger have to attend dinner in the First Class Banquet Hall?) but he had to admit he would also like to see the confused expressions of the gossip mongers’ faces as he escorted a beautiful—unknown—woman to dinner.
It had been easier than he expected to find his way out of the Smoking Lounge. In fact, J.J. left before he did, explaining to everyone that Madeline was not feeling well and that he needed to return to their chambers to attend to his wife. He was able to slip out just before 10:00, and despite his timing, Jonathan was waiting for him upon his arrival back at his room, his clothing laid out, ready to go.
Once he was dressed more appropriately, though still in a dress shirt and slacks, he looked at himself one more time in the mirror. “You sure about this?” he asked Jonathan, who was dressed in a similar outfit.
“Absolutely,” he replied. “Let’s go to a real party.”
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