Hearts That Survive Part 8

"Our pleasure," the two said together.

Soon, Lydia rushed out to meet Caroline. She and William stood at the railing. Slowing her steps, Lydia viewed the calm sea and thought how smooth the surface looked, reminding her of how things were working out for her and John-so much better than they could have imagined.

She became aware of William's resonant voice. "Perhaps we should renew our vows on this s.h.i.+p. Astor might throw in a substantial gift."

He laughed, as though it was a joke.

Caroline did not laugh. "We have more than we need, William."

"But you've never minded the extras, I daresay."

Lydia wondered if she should continue her approach. She sensed contention, not jesting, in his tone.

"Did you see how they looked at each other?" Caroline's words barely reached Lydia. "Have we ever had that kind of expression in our eyes, William?"

He turned to Caroline, but she turned her face away. Was she afraid of what she might see in his eyes? Surely they had been in love.

"Have I not been a good husband to you, Caroline?"

Caroline's focus fell on Lydia, who hoped it might appear she had just walked up.

Caroline's gaze moved to her husband, and she smiled. "Of course, William. You are the perfect husband. Oh, here's Lydia." She reached out her hand. "We were just talking about you. So impressed with young love." She glanced at William as she moved away from him. "Lydia and I are off to plan the most exciting event this s.h.i.+p could offer. And you might be thinking about a wedding gift, William."

As they walked away, Lydia insisted, "No gifts for us, Caroline."

"I was just ribbing William about something."

Lydia smiled. Yes, ribbing him about wanting to receive a gift instead of give. Caroline was a woman after her own heart.

"Brrrr." Caroline s.h.i.+vered. "It's much cooler tonight than last."

"Decidedly," Lydia agreed. "I'll turn on the heater in my sitting room."

Caroline paused at the door of her stateroom. "Let me get out of this corset so I can breathe." She shook her head. "Men want their women to look as trim as the day they married them. But do they give a thought to their own-" She made a curved motion at her stomach. They both laughed.

"Some men do wear corsets, Caroline."

"Yes, you're right. William doesn't." She opened her door. "I'll be right over."

"I'll get more comfortable too. A change of shoes wouldn't hurt, either."

"Exactly!" Caroline's finger gestured to her pointed-toe shoes.

Soon they were in comfortable dresses, and designing invitations. Along with them were a couple of notes formally inviting Phoebe and Henry to be attendants.

"I think Phoebe would like such a note as a memento," Lydia said.

"What about me? Don't you think I want a keepsake?"

"Of course," Lydia said playfully. "You took the words right out of my mouth."

"Mmmhmm," Caroline murmured as Lydia wrote the note. Soon Marcella had all the notes, which she would give to a steward, who would deliver them to the printing office.

"I'll also need thank-you notes for after the wedding."

Caroline thought a moment. "Let me do that. It could be to all who attended, just as the invitation is to everyone. After you arrive in New York, you could send notes to those who were a part of this in a special way, such as the Astors."

"Yes," Lydia said. "I would like to give a token of my appreciation. Not even free pa.s.sage on a Beaumont train would be impressive after having sailed on this s.h.i.+p."

Caroline lifted a dainty finger. "What about a toy train?"

"Perfect!"

They laughed together at the irony of how such a gift would be something most wouldn't have and that it might serve as an intriguing conversation piece. And it would represent John's expertise, not her father's money.

Marcella returned and poured tea for them.

"You do know," Caroline said, stirring sugar into her tea, "you and John are going to be the toast of New York." Her eyes widened. "All of America, in fact."

"Oh, you're being fanciful."

Caroline shook her head. "Not at all. This will be greater news than John Astor stepping off the s.h.i.+p in New York. Or even Ismay and Andrews."

Lydia couldn't hold back her giggle.

"A bride. What sparks the imagination like a wedding?" She answered her own question, "Nothing. The whole world loves romance."

Lydia heaved a sigh as her eyes roamed the sitting room, admiring its elegant furnis.h.i.+ngs, fireplace, and original paintings. "This is like a fairy tale."

"Better," Caroline said. "Better even than royalty."

"Oh, I think not. Your wedding must have been grand."

It was common knowledge the Chadwicks were royalty and their fortunes had been handed down over many generations. Lydia heard that King Edward had attended their wedding.

"Yes, the wedding was grand," Caroline said softly. She toyed with the huge diamond on her finger. "I never had to make a choice. We've always accepted that we are well-matched. And of course, I love him. He's my husband. William was simply the one for me."

Lydia nodded. "My father and family acquaintances, with the exception of a couple of young friends, feel Craven is the one for me." She described him, as if Caroline didn't know: "A great catch. The right background. Compatible with me in every way. And I like Craven's looks."

Caroline's nod and grin seemed to say she did too.

Lydia added, "His ability to run the company, the way he impresses my father, his impeccable manners, his gentlemanly attributes, his intelligence."

"Oh, my," Caroline said. "Perhaps we should cancel the wedding or change the groom."

"Not a chance."

"All right." Caroline set her cup and saucer on the side table, then folded her hands on her lap. "Now tell me, how does John compare?"

What was it about John? He wasn't as highly educated as Craven or other possible suitors, nor as up on politics or world events, and owned no stock at all, although he was being advised to consider such now that he was in negotiation with Beaumont.

"I'm not completely delusional," she said. "I don't want to live poorly. I can't imagine anyone would. But John isn't poor. Compared to my father and Craven and others here, yes." Caroline and William would be among that group.

"So," she said with a tilt of her chin, "can John compare with Craven?" She answered her own question, "Not at all."

Caroline touched her lips with her fingers as if to stifle a laugh.

"Oh, in looks he can. Of course, he doesn't have that mature look of Craven. But he's so handsome. Did you ever see such vivid blue eyes?"

"Only on you, when you speak of him or look at him," Caroline said.

Seeing Caroline's enjoyment, she took it further. "So why do I want John?"

She felt the joy, the s.h.i.+ver of warmth, the feeling that swept over her. John, without any worldly possessions to speak of, touched her heart. "John thrills me. Excites me, makes me feel more loved than ever in my life." She added tentatively, "He quotes poetry to me."

Caroline's eyebrows moved up, and the smile remained on her lips.

"All I know is, it's a feeling, a knowing, that you want to be part of that person, share a life with them, raise a family." Realizing she should have asked this sooner, Lydia said, "Do you have children?"

"Not of my own." Caroline looked at her tea cup. Then she focused on Lydia again. "I've had three miscarriages. William decided not to put me through that again."

Caroline took a sip of tea, then smiled with her lips, if not her eyes. But as she talked, her hazel eyes softened, as did her voice, "I have children in orphanages where I've volunteered. I dearly love children. But-"

She seemed to change her mind about what she might say and nodded to Marcella, who brought over the teapot. "We can talk after you're an old married woman. For now, let's concentrate on your wedding."

Her being childless seemed a difficult subject for Caroline to discuss. Lydia had considered mentioning her condition to Caroline, thinking she'd understand and even be happy for her. Now she knew that might only make Caroline sad.

"Are you just visiting America, or will you and John make your home there?"

"That's not been decided yet."

"Oh, Lydia," Caroline said. "I'm so glad we met. Let's make a point to remain friends."

"I'd love that," Lydia said sincerely.

"Now, let's make sure we have everything planned." She lifted her tea cup. "To love."

With a delighted laugh, Lydia touched Caroline's cup with her own.

16.

Caroline wondered at her strange thought when William stepped into the bedroom where Bess was brus.h.i.+ng her hair. He looked into the reflection of her eyes. "Bess may leave for the night unless you have further need of her."

"No, that will be all. Good night, Bess."

"Good night, ma'am, sir." She laid the ivory brush on the dressing table, and William picked it up.

Caroline pondered her thought.

They all smell the same. Like smoke and brandy.

Not that she minded. That was among the least of the facts of life she'd accepted. But here on this s.h.i.+p, her senses seemed keener. Everything was so new.

No other woman, besides servants and workers, would have looked into that mirror. And they, not to groom themselves. Now she and William were there, like a moving photograph. His fingers played gently with her hair as he smoothed it with strokes of the brush. He enjoyed doing that, so she kept it shoulder length.

"I especially wanted to bring you on this trip," he said. "This is living, Caroline. We're in a new age. Lights and autos. My autos will be known throughout the world."

Yours?

Yes, of course they were his, and had proved to be profitable. Her main goal had been to have a family. But not being able to, she'd sought to be useful.

But she must stop thinking about what she couldn't have. Right here, right now, she had all the opulence the world had to offer. There could be nothing grander. And she said so.

William smiled and laid the brush down. His hand moved to her shoulders, which he gently ma.s.saged. She thought he was in an amorous mood.

"Even the stars of heaven fade when we're under the light of those great chandeliers," he said appreciatively. She smiled, though a little s.h.i.+ver ran through her. But she understood. He wasn't criticizing the spectacular beauty of the sky, but praising what man had made.

Yes, she would not fret about whether or not she was a productive person. There was still time. The doctors all gave encouragement. She had conceived, and they found no reason that she couldn't go full term at some point. But too much hope only made the disappointment greater.

But tonight, with Lydia having asked about children, a renewed hope rose. They were on a miracle s.h.i.+p. Lydia's and John's falling so deeply in love and being willing to defy convention was somewhat miraculous. Her gaze moved to the reflection of the bed where no one other than she and William had slept. They had been exhausted from the excitement of these past nights. And William had access to more people of his liking than ever before in his life and came in late, often rather inebriated, whether with brandy or the sheer awe of his surroundings.

Now she looked away from the bed and into his eyes as he stood behind her, his hand warm and gentle on her shoulders.

Caroline looked at the silk gown she wore, which William had included among his favorites. Touching her midsection, she thought of his many compliments on her girlish figure, as he called it. She'd much rather have the figure that many women complained about after bearing children.

In an occasional moment she allowed herself regrets. But just a look around the room renewed her grat.i.tude for the blessings she had. She was accustomed to the finest.

"Oh, William. This s.h.i.+p is grander than anything I've ever seen. I dearly love it. But should we be so proud of it? There are so many who-"

He interrupted with a raised palm, "My dear." His smile was tender. "We each have our place in this world. And without those who build and progress, we'd have no electric lights. We'd still be astride horses. And," he said with warm regard, "without wealth, how would you have the purpose of helping the needy?"

"You're right, of course." She wanted to end the discussion immediately. He would never intentionally insult her. But she felt the sting, brought about surely by her own sense of insecurity, of having no real purpose but reaching out indirectly to children.

She shook that thought away as deliberately as she shook his hand from her shoulder when she rose and moved away from the mirror. She would not wallow in pity. No one else pitied her. They expressed admiration for her. The wife of Sir William Chadwick. A few even went so far as to envy her for having the free time to give to others.

William took off his jacket, hung it in the wardrobe, and turned toward the bathroom.

"William," she said, and he stopped, resting his hand on the door casing. "Tomorrow we women will be planning a wedding. You will need to occupy yourself without me."

"That will not be a problem. A few of us want to check out every nook and cranny of this s.h.i.+p. Do you know there are no handrails in the walkways because the s.h.i.+p won't even feel the push of a wave?" He added in light jest, "The sea is silent in deference to this floating city."

"And to think I had wondered if I'd have seasickness."