Pansy, too, declared her intention of retiring. She had some letters to write, she said.
They departed, together with Miss Epson, and were soon followed by Mrs Thirske.
Emilia, however, was not tired. It was not yet half past eleven, and intrigued by the thought of seeing an iceberg she went out on to deck. There was no wind, but the air was cold. However, she only intended to stay outside for a few minutes, and wrapped her arms around herself to keep herself warm.
The ship looked magical. Light streamed from every porthole and every deck. Lanterns were hung along its entire length. It was like a fairy ship, she thought fancifully, strung with glow worms illuminating the dark night sky.
The sea was as calm as a mill pond, and its dark depths reflected the lights. The ship was still going at a good pace, and she was reassured by this, for if the Captain had felt there was any danger he would have slowed down. She could not see any ice. She had hoped to see an iceberg glowing with a blue or silver light in the starlight, but there was nothing but sea and sky. She shivered, and decided she must go in.
She was just about to do so when she became aware that there was someone behind her. She felt her skin prickle, and without even having to look round she knew who it was. There was only one man who could light up the air with such a powerful electrical charge.
Carl.
‘It’s a beautiful night,’ he said softly.
She took a deep breath and turned round to face him. His face was shadowed, but one side of it was illuminated by the ship’s lights, and she was aware of his high cheekbones and smooth skin. She had an urge to reach out and trail her fingers down his strong face, letting them linger on his jaw before brushing his lips. But she could not give in to such an impulse. It would be madness. So, to help her fight it she folded her arms.
‘It is,’ she agreed. Deliberately turning her eyes skywards, her gaze traced the heavens. ‘It’s so peaceful out here, away from the hustle and bustle of normal life.’
He nodded. ‘It’s as though the rest of the world doesn’t exist.’
It was true. Sheltered by the darkness, cut off from the noise that existed inside the ship, they seemed like the only two people left in the world. It was a wonderful feeling.
It was also unnerving.
Carl exerted a strange power over her. If she were to forget where she was she would be in danger of succumbing to it. Her only hope lay in reminding herself that she was on a ship full of people and that at any moment one of them might come out on to the deck.
The wind blew, and she shivered. But before she could say she must go in, he had stripped off his jacket and he was by her side, wrapping it round her bare shoulders.
‘Here.’
She accepted it gratefully. It was warm with his body heat, and it contained the unmistakeable scent of him, a mixture of expensive cologne and masculinity. She nestled into it, then lifted her face to thank him … and the words died on her lips. His hands had stilled on her shoulders, and as she looked into his eyes, she was lost. They were so deep they drew her in. She saw his feelings as clearly as though they’d been written on his face in letters a mile high. He was going to kiss her.
She knew what she had to do. She had to pull away, step out of his grasp, thank him politely for his jacket, tell him it was not necessary, return it to him and go back inside. But she could not do it. The night was so magical and his presence was so overwhelming that she simply stood there, in the grip of a nameless spell, and raised her face to his.
He took her chin between his finger and thumb, and then bent his head, and brushed her lips with his own. She could feel the slight roughness of the stubble around his mouth, and she found it stimulating. She responded, and he took her into his arms and kissed her.
It was a deep, slow sensuous kiss, such as she had never experienced before. Her knees buckled, and if his arms had not been around her waist she would have fallen. He pulled her closer and her arms instinctively rose and slid around his neck. She ran her fingers through his hair, revelling in its sleekness, and returning his kiss with a passionate intensity she had never dreamed she possessed.
He pulled away briefly, whispering endearments as he nuzzled her ear, then kissed her again. She had never dreamt a kiss could be so all-consuming. He was swamping all her senses. Sight, scent, sound, taste and touch were full of him. He was her whole world.
Overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through her she lost all track of time, knowing nothing but the pressure of his body and the sweet insistence of his lips.
How long it would have gone on for she did not know, but slowly, gradually, the sound of voices called her back to reality. Other passengers, lured by the stars and the stillness, were coming out on to the deck, and although they were further down, they had reminded her of the real world and all its complications.
She must have been mad to let him kiss her, she thought, as she pulled away from him, her feelings a mass of confusion. She had meant to avoid him and instead she had surrendered herself, giving herself to him willingly and welcoming his kiss. For she could not hide from herself that she had welcomed it. It had seemed so right that she had wanted it, and enjoyed it, and even worse, longed to feel it again. After her experience with Silas Montmerency - after the day he had grabbed her and covered his mouth with her own - she had wondered if she would ever enjoy a man’s caresses. She had hated the feel of Silas’s mouth on hers, and the feel of his arms around her had driven her mad with panic and the desire to escape. But when Carl had taken her in his arms she had not wanted to escape. And when he had kissed her, she had kissed him back, matching his passion with a passion of her own. She had forgotten herself, lulled by the sea and the stars and the faint strains of music coming from the dining-room, but she must not forget herself again. Now, more than ever, she must be on her guard.
She was under no illusions about Carl’s feelings. She was, to him, a light indulgence, something with which to pass the time whilst he sailed across the Atlantic, but to her he was something more. He touched her in ways she had never been touched before. He intrigued her, interested her, compelled her. And he attracted her like no other man. But it was madness to give in to it.
She pulled herself together.
‘I must go.’
She turned away from him but he caught her hand as she did so.
‘I’ve frightened you,’ he said, pulling her towards him. ‘I’m sorry. That was not my intention. Stay. Please.’
His voice was low and husky, and she was in danger of weakening all over again, but she made a determined effort to control her reaction to him.
‘No, you haven’t frightened me,’ she said. ‘But this was a mistake. It must never happen again.’
He raised his eyebrows.
‘May I ask why not?’
‘You know perfectly well why not,’ she said.
‘No. I don’t.’
‘Mr Latimer, this is neither the time or the place for such a discussion,’ she said, glancing along the deck to where several gentlemen were standing by the railings, smoking their cigars.
‘Then the sooner you tell me what is the matter, the sooner we can have done with it,’ he said. ‘Did I offend you in some way?’
‘No.’ She hesitated. ‘Yes.’
‘You’re not making this easy for me.’ There was a hint of exasperation in his voice. ‘I have no wish to distress you, but I want to understand you. If you will only tell me why it can never happen again, then I will make sure it doesn’t.’
With his hand clasping hers, and his eyes locked onto her own, it was difficult for her to concentrate. It would have been so easy to give herself up to the sensations that were coursing through her, but she knew she must not do it.
She straightened her spine.
‘Because you are about to become engaged,’ she said.
‘Engaged?’
He was so surprised he stood back, dropping his hand to his side. ‘Whatever gives you that idea?’
> ‘Mrs Gisborne told me,’ she said.
He let out a sigh.
‘Did she indeed?’
‘Yes. She did. And I saw the news of your impending engagement in a magazine.’
He ran his fingers through his hair.
‘Emilia, I’m a wealthy man. I am hunted by mothers who want wealthy husbands for their daughters. It’s been the same for the last three years. Mrs Gisborne’s sister is one of those who hunts me. She has a daughter, Isabelle, a beautiful girl. It’s true, I had considered marrying her, together with a number of other young women, all beautiful, elegant and well connected. I was of an age to marry, and having forgotten what was important in life I saw a marriage with one of them as the final rung of the ladder of my climb from poverty. But then I met you … ’
She stepped back.
‘Nevertheless, you are engaged, or as good as engaged, to her,’ she said.
‘I’m no such thing. Although I had seen Isabelle as a possible wife, I took great care to make sure I never misled her, or any of the other young women, by paying them undue attention. The idea that I am about to offer her marriage is in her mother’s imagination.’
‘But the magazine?’ asked Emilia.
‘Mrs Stott wanted to manipulate me into proposing to Isabelle. She has a relative who works for a society magazine, and persuaded her to include a photograph of Isabelle and myself, with a caption saying we were shortly to become engaged. But it isn’t so.’
She looked up into his eyes and saw that what he said was true.
‘You reminded me of what was important in life. With you, I remembered what it was like to talk to someone who interested me, to spend time with someone who made life seem vibrant and meaningful.’
He stroked her cheek.
‘With you I discovered what it was like to talk to a woman honestly, instead of having her flatter me and agree with everything I said.’ His voice became husky. ‘And with you I found out what it was like to have a woman tremble in my arms, not at the thought of my money, but at the thought of me, as a man.’
And then she was in his arms again, and returning his kiss with a fire she had never dreamed she possessed.
There came the sound of a bell ringing, but she barely heard it, so lost was she in Carl’s embrace. It came again. This time it began to penetrate her consciousness, and slowly she opened her eyes.
It came a third time.
Carl released her, and they both looked towards the crow’s nest, which was where the sound was coming from.
‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘It’s a warning,’ he said. ‘It means there’s something up ahead.’
Taking her hand, he led her over to the rail and they looked out to sea - and saw an iceberg directly in front of them. It towered over the deck, dwarfing the ship with its size.
Emilia gasped. She had wanted to see an iceberg, but not at such close quarters, and definitely not in the path of the ship.
She squeezed Carl’s hand.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘The ship will turn to avoid it.’
She heard a barking of orders coming from the bridge a little further down the deck, and slowly the bow of the gigantic vessel began to veer to port. She held her breath. The iceberg was coming ever closer, and yet the ship was turning so slowly. Its enormous length worked against it. For one heart stopping moment she feared it was not going to escape a collision. Unconsciously, she drew closer to Carl. He put his arm reassuringly around her shoulders.
And then they bow turned still more, and she let out a pent-up breath as she realized the ship was going to miss the iceberg. The bow turned, and Titanic slipped majestically past.
She relaxed. It had been an anxious moment, but now it was over.
Or so she had thought.
Because at that moment there came a scraping sound, and a curious shuddering sensation, as though the ship were rolling over a thousand marbles. Then there was a sudden silence as the engines stopped.
It was eerie. Titanic was suddenly like a ghost ship, adrift on the sea. In the darkness of the night, the silence was deafening.
‘Why have we stopped?’ she asked Carl. ‘I thought we missed the iceberg?’
Carl shrugged. ‘We’ve probably just thrown a propeller,’ he said.
Emilia was comforted.
There came a coughing, spluttering sound, as though the engines were trying to start again, and then silence once more prevailed.
‘How long will it take … ?’ began Emilia.
But suddenly there came a mighty roar, like the sound of a hundred trains rushing through a tunnel, and the rest of her words were drowned out in the deafening noise. Instinctively she put her hands over her ears.
‘It’s just the steam from the exhausts,’ Carl shouted, to make himself heard over the din. He covered his own ears. ‘If they had to stop the engines when the ship was going at twenty knots, they’d have needed to let the steam escape.’
‘It sounds terrible,’ she said, shouting, too. ‘I wonder if we’ll be able to see what’s happened if we go over to the starboard side?’
It was on the starboard side of the ship that the iceberg had passed by.
‘We might as well have a look.’
Taking her by the hand he led her across the deck. They passed close by the bridge, where there was a flurry of activity. Captain Smith was just arriving from the chart room to take command.
‘Close the emergency doors,’ she heard him say.
‘They’re already closed, sir,’ said Mr Murdoch.
‘Send to the carpenter and tell him to sound the ship,’ said the Captain.
Emilia remembered Mrs Thirske’s words about Captain Smith not having any responsibility, but the weight of his position was now brought home to her. On his shoulders lay the decisions that must be taken in the aftermath of the incident. Judging by his voice, though, it must have been trivial. He was collected and calm.
They carried on making their way round to the starboard side of the ship. They could see the huge cliff of ice they had so narrowly avoided. It looked beautiful. In the starlight it was phosphorescent, a ghostly mountain floating away from the ship and disappearing off the stern.
Then her attention was caught by something on the deck.
Ice.
‘We must have hit the iceberg after all,’ she said, glancing at the huge chunks which lay gleaming on the deck. She leaned over the railing and looked down at the side of the ship. ‘I don’t see any damage.’
‘The iceberg must have grazed the ship below the water line,’ said Carl.
‘That explains the shuddering,’ agreed Emilia. ‘Will it have made a hole, do you think?’
‘It’s impossible to say. Titanic’s well built. It might just have scratched the hull. But Captain Smith will need to assess the damage before we move on.’
‘That must be why we have stopped.’
She bent down and picked up a piece of the ice. To her surprise, it was not just frozen water, but had bits of rock and soil embedded in it. It was intensely cold; so much so that she gasped and dropped it again.
A few people were now appearing from below, disturbed from their sleep by the juddering sensation that had spread throughout the ship. They wore coats thrown hastily over their nightclothes, and on their feet they wore slippers.
One of the men strolled over to Carl.
‘Do you know what happened?’ he asked. ‘We felt a judder downstairs. It woke us up. Were you on deck at the time?’
‘Yes. I thought at first we’d thrown a propeller, but now I’m not so sure. From the ice on the deck, it looks as though we must have hit the iceberg. ’
‘I think so, too. I went into the smoking room to see what the opinion was there, but the men were still playing cards and seemed to have no interest in what had taken place.’
‘It was only a glancing blow. We’ve only stopped to see if there’s any serious damage been done,’ said another gentleman. ‘It might delay us
a bit, but we’ve been making good speed on the crossing and even if we have to stay here an hour or two whilst repairs get under way we should still arrive on time.’
‘I’ll say. We’ve been making terrific speed so far,’ said a third. ‘It’s the fastest crossing I’ve ever made. 490 miles, wasn’t it, from noon on the 11th to noon on the 12th?’
‘494,’ his wife corrected him. ‘Then 519 miles between noon on the 12th and noon on the 13th, and 546 miles between noon on the 13th and noon on the 14th.’
‘Marvellous woman, my wife,’ he said proudly, putting his arm round her. ‘She’s been talking to the Captain. She takes it all in.’
His wife looked pleased.
Some of the other passengers who had come out on deck were now playing with the ice, using it as a football, or, like Emilia, picking it up, before discovering how cold it was and tossing it from hand to hand.
‘I think I’ll take it home as a souvenir!’ joked a young man. ‘The wife would like it.’
‘Put it in your whisky!’ laughed his friend.
There was an air of high spirits as the seasoned travellers on the ship took the accident in their stride.
‘This is a bit of excitement, what?’ said a fourth gentleman, puffing on his cigar. Unlike some of the other passengers, he was not dressed in his night clothes, but was still dressed in evening clothes. He was evidently enjoying himself. ‘I’ve crossed the Atlantic nigh on fifty times and nothing interesting has ever happened before. It will be something for the newspapers to write about when we get back home.’
‘It won’t make half a column,’ returned another gentleman, laughing, as he kicked a piece of ice across the deck. ‘There’s nothing to it. By this time tomorrow everyone will have forgotten all about it. Still, the sooner they fix the problem the better, whatever it is. There’s an infernal racket from the steam.’ He looked at the sky. ‘It’s a good thing it’s a lovely night. There’s not a breath of wind. It’ll make it easier to carry out repairs. I think I’ll stay on deck and see what happens.’
‘How long do you think we’ll be stopped for?’ asked his wife.