‘Out of all the people to survive, why did one of them have to be Emilia Cavendish?’ said Mrs Gisborne in disgust. ‘This could be the end of all our plans for Isabelle. If Carl survives, and he and Emilia find each other here, the ordeal they’ve been through will bring them together and they’ll be engaged by the time they reach New York.’ She thought. ‘There’s nothing for it, Dolly. You’ll have to take her in.’
‘Me?’ asked Mrs Frampton in surprise.
‘Yes, you. It’s the only way we can keep the two of them apart. As long as you take her in, you can keep her in your stateroom so that she can not go looking for him.’
‘But won’t he look for her?’ asked Dolly. ‘Even if I can keep her below deck until we get back to New York, he will see her name on the survivors’ list - the officers are drawing one up now. As soon as he does so he’ll know she’s on board, and sooner or later he will find her.’
‘If he recovers sufficiently to look. Remember, he has been through a terrible ordeal, and he was unconscious when he was brought on board.’
‘He has only to ask his mother to look for her, even if he is too weak to look himself, and he will find her,’ Mrs Frampton pointed out.
Mrs Gisborne thought.
‘Then we must make sure we keep her name off the survivors’ list. Let’s just hope she hasn’t already given it to one of the crew - though, judging by the condition she’s in, it doesn’t seem likely. Once she’s in your stateroom we can give it for her, saying she’s called Miss … Miss Elsie Carter.’
‘It won’t work,’ said Mrs Frampton regretfully. ‘She will look for him.’
‘She evidently doesn’t know he’s aboard, or she would not be standing by the railing. If we can get her below quickly enough we can prevent her hearing anything of him, and as for the survivors’ list, well, we will just have to find a way of keeping her away from it. But that is a problem for later. Now, we have to get her off the deck.’ She thought. ‘She had better not see me. I have already tried to warn her away from Carl and she might suspect something.’
‘Very well. Leave it to me. In fact, if you would send my maid to me, I have an idea as to how I can get Miss Cavendish to abandon her vigil.’
Mrs Gisborne looked at her enquiringly.
‘I will induce her to leave the deck by telling her that my maid will watch for her loved one in her place. I rely on you to tell Mary what’s expected of her before you let her come on to the deck. Make sure she understands that under no circumstances is she to “find” him.’
‘A good idea,’ said Margaret approvingly. ‘I can’t thank you enough Dolly.’
Dolly smiled. ‘My dear Margaret, what are friends for? I am only too happy to help. I am as annoyed as you are at the idea of Isabelle losing Carl to a nobody. Just make sure you invite me to the wedding.’
‘If we manage to arrange it, you will have pride of place.’
Emilia was weak and shivering. She had been given brandy on first boarding Carpathia, but had resisted the efforts of the crew to persuade her to go below and have a hot breakfast. She was sick with worry. She had failed to find Carl on deck, and she had gone over to the rail to watch further boats arriving. With each new boat that reached Carpathia her hopes rose, only to be dashed again when he was not on board, and she was close to exhaustion.
Everywhere around her were the cries of distressed people, which lowered her spirits still more. So many people had lost loved ones, and with each new boat that arrived, bringing no sign of Carl, she feared she could be among them.
She had seen many people she knew brought on board: stewards and stewardesses; Mr and Mrs Thirske; and the waiter who had served her in the first-class dining-room on her first night aboard Titanic. She had also seen Mr Ismay. The sight of him had shocked her. She had caught a glimpse of him as one of the lifeboats had drawn up alongside Carpathia. His face had been blue, and he had been staring ahead of him, like a statue.
‘I should have gone down with the ship,’ she had heard him saying as he had come aboard. ‘Women went down. I should have.’
One of the men in her boat had seen Mr Ismay leave the ship. He had not left until all the wooden boats had been launched on the starboard side of the ship, at which side he had been helping. Only the collapsible boats had remained. He himself had left in one of the collapsible boats, and he had only done so after the crew had ensured there were no more women and children in the vicinity. But still, he had survived.
She had seen nothing of Carl. Nor had she seen Pansy, or Robert, or Mrs Latimer. But she could not think about them now. All she could think about was Carl.
So absorbed was she that she did not at first hear the kind words spoken softly next to her.
‘My dear. You look frozen. Come with me. My name is Mrs Frampton, and I have a stateroom on board ship. You are welcome to stay there. My maid will draw you a bath, and then you can have something hot to eat before getting in to bed. You must be exhausted after your ordeal.’
With difficulty, Emilia gave her attention to Mrs Frampton.
‘No, thank you. That’s very kind of you, but I can’t leave the rail,’ she said. ‘I’m watching for someone.’
‘A loved one?’ asked Dolly with false concern.
‘Yes.’
‘Your husband?’ queried Dolly.
‘No, he’s not my husband,’ said Emilia.
‘Your fiancé, then?’
Emilia was too tired to argue.
‘I understand your feelings, but if you stay here you will do yourself harm. It’s cold, and you are shivering. Will you not let my maid watch for your loved one in your stead? What is his name?’
‘Latimer. Mr Carl Latimer.’
‘Mary, you are to stand here and check the names of every gentleman who boards the ship. In addition, you must ask each and every survivor if they know what happened to Mr Carl Latimer,’ she said to her maid, who had joined them on deck.
‘Yes, madam,’ said Mary respectfully.
‘Come, my dear. You won’t be any use to your fiancé if you are exhausted when he arrives. He might need looking after when he gets on board, you know, and you must be rested in order to manage it.’
Worn out by a lack of sleep, by the cold, and by the terrible ordeal she had been through, Emilia agreed. She leant against Dolly as she led her to her stateroom.
‘Your clothes are soaking,’ Dolly said. ‘You must have a warm bath, and then we will see about getting you something to eat before putting you to bed.’
‘Well, that’s settled,’ said Mrs Gisborne to her husband, as she returned to the Braithwaites’ stateroom. Mr Gisborne, like his wife, was virtually unmarked by his ordeal. He did not suffer from his wife’s complete insensitivity, but he was not a man to worry about things he could do nothing about, and although he had felt for the souls who had gone down with Titanic, he had not been overcome. ‘At least Miss Cavendish will be no more threat.’
‘You mean she’s drowned?’ asked Mr Gisborne, looking up from his paper.
‘No. Unfortunately not,’ said Mrs Gisborne, putting her hat down on an elegant table. ‘She survived.’
‘That’s a bit harsh, even for you,’ he said uncomfortably.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she sighed, patting her hair and then sitting down opposite him. ‘If she had drowned, it would have saved us a great many problems. Carl would have returned to America, grieved for a few weeks, put it behind him and got on with his life. In other words, he would have married Isabelle. But now that Miss Cavendish is alive, the future is by no means so certain, which is why I asked Dolly to take her to her stateroom. Carl will not be able to find her, and he will not know she is alive. Nor, if we are careful, will she be able to find him. They will both assume the other one drowned and Isabelle might marry Carl yet.’
‘The poor girl,’ commented Mr Gisborne.
She raised her eyebrows. ‘I sometimes wonder about you, Thomas. Why should Emilia Cavendish be a poor girl, any more than anyo
ne else? We’ve all been through a disaster.’
‘But we’re not all being kept from our loved ones,’ he said gruffly. ‘Nor are we being fooled into thinking they’re dead.’
She gave an exclamation of impatience. ‘It had to be done. Unless you would like to have Susan and Isabelle living with us? Because that’s what it will come to if Isabelle doesn’t manage to catch Carl Latimer. My sister can’t keep up appearances for much longer. Paul left her heavily in debt when he died, and it has taken all her ingenuity to pretend otherwise. If anyone guesses what dire straits she is in, it will be impossible for Isabelle to make a suitable match, let alone a good one. And Isabelle must make a good match. It’s the only thing that can prevent both her and Susan from becoming destitute, and if they become destitute they will be looking for relatives to take them in. And you know how you have always disliked Susan.’
His face fell. ‘She’s a terrible woman,’ he said.
‘Which is why we must do everything in our power to make sure Isabelle catches Carl,’ said Mrs Gisborne with a satisfied air.
‘I suppose so,’ he said.
She turned her thoughts back to the problem in hand.
‘Now, if we can only keep them apart when we land in New York we will have managed the business very well. It shouldn’t be too difficult. If we can find out when the Donaldsons mean to disembark, and arrange to be well away from them when they do so, we should be able to arrange it. Dolly is going to lend Emilia some clothes in an effort to disguise her appearance. Once she is dressed in a long coat, with a large hat to hide that golden hair, we should be able to make sure Carl won’t recognise her, even if he spots her from a distance.’
‘And if they meet face to face?’ he asked.
‘Really, Thomas, why must you be so tiresome? There are over six hundred survivors on board. It’s very unlikely that the two of them will meet face to face. We will just have to hope it doesn’t happen.’
‘You’ve still got to get him to propose to Isabelle, once he returns to New York,’ said Mr Gisborne judiciously.
She agreed. ‘That shouldn’t prove too difficult either. As long as Isabelle is waiting for him by the pier, which of course she will be, because I telegraphed Susan from the Titanic to make sure that that would be the case, she will soon manage to fix him. There’s nothing like a few words of kindness after a shock. All she has to do is hold his hand and murmur sympathetic nothings in his ear, and I shouldn’t be surprised if they’re engaged before the end of the month. A quick wedding would be best, I think - June’s a lovely month - and the thing will be done.’
‘I just hope it works out the way you’ve planned it,’ said Mr Gisborne, returning to his newspaper.
‘Oh, it will,’ she said determinedly. ‘I’ll make sure of it.’
Chapter Twelve
Emilia scarcely noticed the bath she took or the food she ate before falling into a feverish sleep. She had been soaked through whilst still on Titanic, and when she had finally escaped on one of the boats the icy water in the bottom had numbed her feet and legs. The soaking, the exposure, the exertion and the fear had taken their toll, and she had collapsed as soon as she was helped into bed.
At last she began to emerge from her slumber. She woke slowly. As she did so, she found herself aching in every bone and muscle. For a moment she could not remember where she was, nor why she should be aching. Her shoulders were painful, and her arms felt as though they were made out of lead. Her hands were sore, and her legs were no better.
Even worse, the stateroom was strange to her. The drapes around the bed were blue, when she remembered very well that they should be gold. She turned her head. She could see the dressing table, but none of her familiar possessions were in view. And then it started to come back to her.
She shut her eyes, trying to shut out the memories of Titanic’s sinking. She would rather not wake, if waking meant reliving the nightmare. But then she thought of Carl, and her spirit stirred. She must get up. Find him.
‘Madam,’ she heard a voice calling just outside the room as she sat up. ‘Madam, she’s awake.’
Mrs Frampton hurried into the bedroom, just as Emilia threw back the covers and tried to get out of bed. As she swung her legs over the side she was overtaken by a wave of dizziness.
‘Lie back,’ said Mrs Frampton, gently lifting her legs and putting them back on the mattress. ‘You have been ill, my dear. You must give yourself time to recover.’
Emilia railed at her own weakness, but she had no choice but to do as Mrs Frampton said. Even so, she could not be still. She had to know about Carl.
‘Carl,’ she said. ‘Did you find him? Has he been brought on board?’
She could tell by Mrs Frampton’s face that the news was not good.
‘I’m sorry, my dear,’ said Mrs Frampton, sitting down beside the bed. ‘My maid waited by the rail until the last boat was taken on board, but there was no sign of him. I’m very sorry to have to tell you this, but he is not on Carpathia.’
‘The last boat has been brought on board?’ said Emilia in surprise. ‘I thought I just dozed off. How long have I slept?’
‘It is ten o’clock, my dear —’
‘Ten o’clock! Then I’ve been asleep for almost two hours!’
Mrs Frampton hesitated. Emilia was about to ask her what was the matter, when she noticed that the stateroom curtains were drawn.
‘It is ten o’clock in the morning, isn’t it?’ she asked. ‘Or is it ten o’clock in the evening?’
‘It is ten o’clock in the evening,’ said Dolly. She paused. ‘Wednesday evening.’
‘Wednesday?’ asked Emilia in shock.
The sudden realization that she had slept almost three days away caused her head to throb, and she put her hand to it in an effort to soothe it. If she had slept so long, she must have been ill. And she was still ill, she was forced to admit, as her head throbbed relentlessly. Her attempt to get up had exhausted her, and she had not even managed to swing her legs out of bed. But she could not give up.
‘I must find Carl,’ she said. ‘He might have been brought on board before I arrived. Then Mary would not have seen him.’
Mrs Frampton spoke sympathetically. ‘I’m sorry my dear, but I thought of that, and sent Mary to check the list of survivors. When she could not find the name of Carl Latimer, I went to check it myself. It is not that she is not careful, but I wanted to be sure. His name was not on the list.’
‘No.’ Emilia could not believe it. Carl had gone. She felt a flood of hopelessness wash over her.
‘It must be a terrible blow, especially in your weak state, but you will feel better when we reach New York. You will be among friends there. They will help you recover from your loss. You don’t think so now, but time is a great healer, and in time your pain will pass,’ Mrs Frampton said. ‘You will find another young man and get married and raise your children, and all this will be like nothing more than a dream.’
Emilia did not reply. She knew she would never forget Carl, but she did not have the energy to speak.
‘Rest now. We will reach New York tomorrow. Your friends will be meeting you on the pier when we dock?’ she asked.
Emilia nodded. ‘Yes. They are going to meet me … or they were, but with the ship now arriving on a different day, I’m not sure.’
‘Never mind. I will see you safely off the ship and wait with you until I know you are in safe hands. If by any chance your friends do not come to meet you, you will be my guest until such time as you can contact them. Don’t worry, my dear. Everything will work out in the end, you’ll see.’
Emilia was too exhausted to do or say more. She closed her eyes and drifted into welcome oblivion.
In the Donaldsons’ stateroom, Mrs Latimer was sitting by Carl’s bed, encouraging him to take a drink of tea. She was grieved by the change in him. The vigorous man of a few days before was gone, to be replaced by a thin man with a drawn face. His skin had lost its healthy tone, and was palli
d. His eyes had lost their animation, and there were dark rings underneath them. His lips looked bloodless. But he was alive, and for that she was grateful.
She had been so worried in the lifeboat, when she had realized that Titanic was going to sink. She had had no idea where Carl was. She had not known if he had managed to get into one of the other boats, or if he was still on the ship.
Pansy had been wonderful. She had worked hard to keep her spirits up, saying she was sure that both Carl and Emilia would be in one of the other boats, but even so it had been an anxious time.
She could still remember the moment she had been brought aboard Carpathia on a bosun’s chair, and the first thing she had seen had been Carl, stretched out on the deck. He had just been lifted out of another lifeboat, where he had lain on the bottom in the freezing cold and soaking wet for several hours after being pulled out of the water. His skin had been blue. She had thought at first he was dead, but the ship’s physician had pronounced him to be alive and she had felt a huge wave of relief. Then Mr Donaldson had come on deck. He had kindly insisted on her having his stateroom, and she had gratefully accepted, following Carl as the stewards had carried him below so that she could put him to bed.
And there he had lain, more dead than alive, whilst she had tended him, with Pansy helping her. Pansy had been wonderful. She had stayed by Carl’s bedside each night so that Mrs Latimer could sleep, and had been a great source of comfort and consolation.
Gradually, Carl had started to show signs of life, and she was now trying to get him to take as much sustenance as she could.
‘You’ve got to have something,’ she told him. ‘The ship’s physician said you had to drink as much as possible. Try, please?’
‘I can’t,’ said Carl weakly. ‘Not until I know what’s happened to Emilia. Are you sure she’s not on board? She should be. I saw her get into a lifeboat myself.’
His voice was a shadow of its former rich baritone. But he was as well as could be expected after spending so much time in the freezing waters of the Atlantic.