Dinner
Charlie’s dining room table was large and opulent, like most of the other furnishings in his house. However, Meg had come to learn that his mother had chosen most of the décor, and when Charlie said he’d just as soon be surrounded by simpler things, Meg believed him. Nevertheless, seated next to him at the baroque revival dining table made her feel small and insignificant. Luckily, whenever he smiled at her, she felt like the most important person in the world.
“How was your day?” he asked as they sipped bowls of freshly made soup. Meg had learned that there would be at least four courses, sometimes as many as seven depending upon who was present, so she paced herself. “Did you do any shopping?”
“Not today,” Meg replied, setting her spoon aside to take a sip of water. She’d declined the wine she’d been offered. Drinking anything stronger than tea made her head ache. She was happy to have Charlie to herself for once. Every other night this past week, at least a few members of his family had been present, if not work associates and friends as well. Charlie had been modest about his valor and quiet about all that he had endured, and Meg had been less than forthcoming about who she was and how she’d come to be living in Charlie’s guest house, but most people didn’t pry, though everyone wanted to know exactly what it was like to be aboard Titanic, and neither of them could ever answer that question to their satisfaction.
The servants brought in the next course, and when Meg recognized lamb and potatoes on her plate, she knew this would be a less elaborate meal than some of the others or else this main course would’ve been served later.
Charlie looked a bit paler than he had the last few days when he had seemed almost himself again, though not quite. There was always the lingering jumpiness they were both experiencing, the timidity at new or unfamiliar noises or sudden outbursts. Tonight, he seemed a few shades whiter than he had recently, and she knew his interview must have taken its toll. “Do you want to talk about it, or would you rather put it out of your mind?” she asked before she took a small nibble of the well-done meat on her plate.
He exhaled and took a sip of his wine before setting his glass down and offering his hand to her, which she took. She knew Jonathan was nearby, though she couldn’t see him, and if there was even the suggestion that something inappropriate might be about to happen, he would suddenly be in the room, but Meg had learned from experience that hand holding was not an alarm to the liegeman.
“It was not pleasant,” Charlie admitted, looking off in the distance as if he was trying to remember, or trying to forget. “I’m glad I got to speak with them today because I hear they are moving the interviews to Washington in a few days, and I’d rather not travel again any time soon if it can be avoided.”
Meg nodded. “Did they ask you all sorts of questions you didn’t want to answer?”
“They asked me all sorts of questions I couldn’t answer,” he confessed with a shrug. “I haven’t the foggiest idea how the ship came to hit the iceberg. Nor do I know how the crewmen determined how many people to put aboard each lifeboat. I just know it wasn’t nearly enough.’
His voice trailed off at the end, and Meg squeezed his hand reassuringly. “Did they ask you how you came to be on the collapsible?”
“They did. I told them the truth. I honestly don’t remember.”
She nodded. He hadn’t been able to tell her either, though she’d asked while they were still aboard Carpathia and then again a few days after they arrived in New York. He said he remembered kissing her goodbye, spending time below the main deck unlocking gates and trying to help some of the Third Class passengers find the lifeboats, but those who spoke little English had no idea what he was saying, and once the boat became so submerged she was noticeably listing, he’d given it up and went back to where the boats had been launching. He remembered seeing the collapsible fall into the water, and then he couldn’t remember anything else. He said there was a loud cracking noise, and he remembered being cold. After that, he was aboard Carpathia, and everything was sketchy. It came and went. Sometimes, he could remember talking to Meg, asking her to marry him all over again. Other times, she’d had to remind him of that conversation. Thankfully, he hadn’t forgotten who she was since that day in hospital when they’d just arrived.
“At least it’s over with now,” Charlie said with a sigh. “You know, I went to several such hearings after the fire in the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory, and those things are never pleasant. They ask such demanding questions with little or no concern for what the person they’re speaking to has been through. I wish all of those people had to go through a similar situation before they could be placed on those boards so that they could be a bit more… understanding.”
“Was it mostly people from the government and the shipping industry?” Meg asked as he released her hand so they could return to their dinner.
“I’m not sure. There were reporters, too, I think. I recognized a few other businessmen in the galley and wondered if they were selling tickets.” He scoffed and took another drink, almost draining his glass. Even though he’d been drinking quite a bit the last few days, Meg had yet to see him intoxicated, and she hoped tonight would not be the first time. Thoughts of drinking too much immediately led her mind to her uncle, and she pushed him back inside his box.
“I hear they’ve raised quite a sum for the passengers who need it, particularly the Third Class widows,” Meg commented, taking a sip of her water. The lamb was delicious but she hadn’t had much of an appetite lately, and she set her fork to the side of her plate hoping whatever the next course was it wouldn’t be too heavy.
“Yes, they’ve collected quite a bit. I should like to contribute as well. I just haven’t gotten to it yet.”
“It seems odd that you would, in a way. That is, being a victim yourself.”
“While I see your point, I feel as if I owe those families. It could just as easily have been one of their husbands or fathers clinging to the collapsible instead of me.”
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