Charles and Julia were the kindest and most considerate of hosts, and at any other time, Emilia would have been enjoying herself immensely. New York was a splendid city, and there was plenty to see and do. Charles and Julia welcomed her into their lives and their home. They behaved with sympathy, taking her shopping so that she could replace the clothes she had lost when Titanic sank, and then endeavouring to lift her spirits by involving her in small gatherings of their friends.
In return, Emilia made an effort to be an ideal guest. She showed an interest in the sights of New York, although really she would much rather have stayed in the apartment, and exclaimed over the shops, although the idea of shopping had never been so unappetising. She talked politely to their friends, smiling at their jokes, but all the time she was aching inside. Her greatest wish was to be in Ireland. She was looking forward to retiring to the quiet village in which her godmother lived, where she would be able to unburden herself, sharing her ordeal and her pain at losing Carl, and in time, perhaps, finding balm for her spirit.
Her godmother’s letter was a great comfort. She was reading it for the third time as she sat on the window seat in Charles’s apartment, looking forward to the day when she would be able to speak to her godmother in person.
I was so relieved when I received your telegraph to say that you were all right, Emilia. We heard about the disaster, and were terribly worried but now we know you’re safe we can breathe again. It was lucky you met Charles in New York. It must make things much pleasanter for you to have a friend to stay with. We can’t wait to have you here. Do you know yet when you will be arriving? I do hope you’re not afraid to make the journey. Disasters like the one you endured happen very infrequently, and it is very unlikely that anything will happen on your next voyage. I know this is easy for me to say. I was not on board Titanic, and I am not facing a sea journey, but even so I hope it will not be too long before I see you again.
It would not be long, Emilia thought. She had already booked her passage. In less than a week she would be sailing to Ireland.
She folded the letter, then let her gaze wander out of the window. It was a fine day in early May, with a blue sky and a glimmer of sunshine. Everything was burgeoning into new life. Spring flowers filled the park, and pink and white blossoms covered the trees. Children were playing, running about under the watchful eyes of their nursemaids. But even that pleasant scene could not dispel the blackness that had clung to her since Carl had been lost.
Still, she was pleased for Charles and Julia. They were to attend a garden party that day and the fine weather would make it very pleasant for them. She, too, was to go, and although she was not looking forward to it, she had the consolation of knowing that it was the last engagement she would have to attend before she sailed for Ireland.
She folded up her letter. It was time for her to dress. Julia would soon be arriving, and then the three of them would go to the Malcasters. She went through into her bedroom and put on one of the dresses Charles had kindly bought for her. It was an understated Empire-line gown in shades of soft blue, and the colour suited her, but she scarcely noticed it.
She heard Julia arriving. Putting on her wide-brimmed hat and gloves, she went into the hall. There was Julia, dressed in a beautiful flame-coloured peg-top dress, and Charles, in a lounge suit.
‘I’m so looking forward to this,’ said Julia, as they went out to the car. ‘The Malcasters have the most beautiful home, and the gardens are superb. You will love them, Emilia. Won’t she, Charles?’
‘Of course she will,’ said Charles heartily, as they climbed into the car and set off. ‘What could be better on a summer’s day than going to a garden party? It’ll put a little colour in your cheeks, Emilia. You’re looking too pasty. We don’t want your godmother to think we’ve been mistreating you when you go to Ireland.’
Emilia smiled at his pleasantry, and said she could not have been better treated.
They were soon at the Malcasters. When they arrived, Emilia could see why Julia and Charles had been looking forward to the afternoon. The Malcasters’ house was a grand white edifice with sparkling windows and an immaculate sweeping drive, and the gardens surrounding it were magnificent. Even in her low state she could appreciate them. The lawns were emerald, and were so neat their edges appeared to have been cut with a knife. They led away from the house in all directions, being flanked with a lake at one side and a high hedge at the other. In front of the hedge were expansive flower beds, where plants had been arranged with an artist’s eye. Cool blues and whites were enlivened with touches of yellow, and textures contrasted attractively with each other. A path led through the hedge, and Emilia caught glimpses of hot coloured flowers, reds, oranges and pinks beyond. Her eye returned to the lawn, where tables covered with white cloths were laid out, and where waiters walked round with trays of champagne.
Emilia, Charles and Julia were greeted by the Malcasters, a young couple who had bought a houseful of antiques from Charles on their marriage. Mr Malcaster was a stocky man, with dark hair and brown eyes, whilst his wife was the an ethereal beauty with blonde hair and green eyes. They were both keenly interested in England, and were delighted to meet Emilia. Mr Malcaster’s grandfather had been English, and he and his wife were keen to learn as much as they could about the country. They talked to Emilia at length, asking her about Southampton, and eliciting from her details of everything down to the kind of weather England had been having when she had left. Tactfully, they avoided all mention of Titanic.
They finally turned their attention to their other guests, and Charles introduced Emilia to a number of other people, who were his friends. She joined in with the conversation, making an effort to seem as though she were enjoying herself, but in reality she found the afternoon something of a strain. After half an hour of doing her duty, however, she could take it no longer, and she slipped away, saying she was going to find another glass of champagne.
She went across the lawns. Beyond the hedge, she hoped she might be able to find some quiet. She took the path that led through it, and discovered that on the other side of the hedge it veered to the left before leading through a shrubbery. It looked secluded in the shrubbery, and she followed the path as it snaked through the large bushes so that before long, when she turned round, she could not see the rest of the gardens. She was completely cut off, and she gave a sigh of relief to know that she would not be introduced to any new people, or have to make polite conversation, or laugh at anyone’s jokes.
At length the path emerged in a circular clearing. Round the edges were three stone seats, where she would be able to rest for a little while before returning to the party. She was about to take a seat when she felt a presence behind her. The hairs stood up on her arms, and the air seemed to be filled with an electric charge. She stopped breathing. There was only one person who could make her feel like that. Carl.
But Carl was dead.
‘Hello, Emilia.’
The voice was so husky it made her mouth grow dry, and so familiar it made her heart turn over in her chest.
Was it possible?
Could it be him?
But no. He had drowned.
What then? A ghost?
Were there ghosts? Did they exist? Could they return to speak to the living, if they had something still to say?
She was longing to turn round, but did not dare. If she turned round and saw nothing she would have to face up to the fact that the voice had been a product of her imagination, a hallucination, a memory carried on the breeze. If she stayed where she was she could pretend, just for a minute, that it belonged to Carl.
‘Won’t you speak to me?’
It came again.
Was she mad? Was she hearing things? Was she longing to find him so badly that her mind was giving him to her? Or had he, by some miracle, survived?
‘Carl?’
Her voice came out as a whisper. She hardly dare say his name; hardly dare turn; hardly dare hope it was him. But at last s
he had to know.
Summoning all her courage she slowly turned, wanting to know the truth and yet fearing it at the same time. She saw the edge of his jacket; the side of his face; and then she saw the whole of him. He was altered. His lounge suit hung from him. There were dark rings under his eyes. His cheekbones were more pronounced. But he was still Carl. And he was alive.
She didn’t quite dare believe it.
‘Carl?’ she breathed.
He smiled, and it lit his eyes. They were the same eyes that had roved over her on the ship; that had drunk her in; the eyes that had looked into her own so deeply when he had put her into the lifeboat.
She took a step towards him, hesitantly at first, then he opened his arms and she ran into them. He caught her fast and held her close.
‘You’re alive!’ she said wonderingly, pulling away a little when at last he let her go.
‘Yes, my love. And so are you.’
He took her hands and looked her up and down as if he still could not believe she were real.
‘But what are you doing here? How did you survive?’ she gasped.
He put his arm round her and led her to one of the seats. He sat down, and she sat next to him, leaning against him, still not able to believe it. She put her hand on his arm and stroked her thumb across it. She felt the hardness of his muscle beneath the fabric of his coat, but even then she was not convinced.
She felt him drop kisses on the top of the head and gave a deep sigh. It was so wonderful, it couldn’t be true.
‘I was about to get into the boat with you when I was washed off the deck,’ he began.
‘I remember,’ she said, her voice hollow. It had been a terrible moment.
He held her closer.
‘There was no way I could get back into the boat,’ he explained. ‘I knew my only chance of survival was to swim away from the ship in order to avoid the suction and then hope I could find some wreckage to cling to, or a half empty lifeboat to climb into. I kicked away from the ship with all my might. Once away from the ship I saw an upturned lifeboat. It was one of the collapsible boats the crew didn’t mange to launch in time. I swam towards it, but there were already so many men standing on it that if I had climbed aboard, it would have been swamped. I swam on. The cold was intense, and it wasn’t long before I was numb. I drifted in and out of consciousness. At last, I saw a lifeboat nearby. I struck out for it and was pulled on board. I lay in the bottom of the boat, scarcely knowing whether I were alive or dead. I remember very little after that, until I found myself on board Carpathia in the Donaldsons’ stateroom. My mother was there, tending me. I asked for you, but she told me she didn’t know where you were. I begged her to find you. She wouldn’t leave me, but she sent Pansy to look for you.’
‘Pansy and your mother were saved as well?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’
She laid her head on his shoulder, and as she did so the sun came out from behind a cloud. It seemed like years since she had felt it. After the cold and dark of the last few weeks, it was a joyous feeling.
‘It’s a dream,’ she sighed. ‘I know it is. But it’s such a good dream I don’t want to wake up. Go on.’
‘They could not find you,’ he said, kissing her hair again. ‘I comforted myself with the thought that more than one ship had been hailed when Titanic was sinking, and I was adamant that one of them must have taken you on board. My mother knew it wasn’t the case, but she didn’t want me to know the truth until I was well enough to face it. As soon as we returned to New York I found out you had not been rescued. I had lost you.’
He pulled her even closer, wrapping his arms more tightly around her as though he would never let her go.
‘But you are here,’ he said. ‘And I still don’t know how it is possible. Pansy looked all over the ship for you. She checked the list of survivors and your name was not there. Once we returned to New York, I checked the list myself. ‘
‘I don’t know how you came to overlook it,’ said Emilia, ‘but it was there. I, too, was taken into a stateroom. I was standing by the rail of the Carpathia watching every boat that came. Despite my exhaustion, I refused all attempts of the crew to make me go below and have a hot meal. I was sure you were alive, and I had to find you. And then one of Carpathia’s passengers, a very kind and generous lady, saw me, and coaxed me to leave my place. Her maid would watch in my stead, she said. I was so exhausted by that time I could barely stand. She took me to her stateroom and looked after me. I was ill with cold and fear, and suffering the effects of exposure. Once I had recovered a little, I wanted to search for you, but I was too weak to get out of bed. She sent her maid to check the list of survivors. You were not on it.’
‘But I was on it,’ he said, puzzled.
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘Neither you, nor your mother, nor Pansy nor Robert, were on the list of survivors. Mrs Frampton checked the list herself.’
‘Frampton?’ he asked. He put her gently away from him so that he could look at her. ‘This Mrs Frampton,’ he asked. ‘Was she a tall, graceful woman with red hair?’
Emilia was surprised at his question. ‘Yes. Do you know her?’
His mouth set in a straight line. ‘She is a friend of Mrs Gisborne’s.’
‘I don’t see … ’ Realization began to dawn. ‘You don’t mean that she took me in deliberately, so that she could lead me to believe you were dead?’ she asked in horror.
He nodded. ‘And so that she could give a false name to the officers when they asked about you for the list of survivors. That way, I would not know you were alive. And by telling you that my name was not on the list, she was able to prevent you finding out that I had been saved.’
‘The wickedness of it,’ whispered Emilia in horror. ‘And all so that you would marry Isabelle?’
‘When I think of the harm that woman nearly caused … ’ he said, his eyes turbulent and his lips white.
‘But she didn’t,’ said Emilia, lifting her hand to caress his cheek.
He turned to look at her and his eyes warmed. ‘No. You’re right.’ He caught her hand and kissed it, then turned it over and kissed the palm. ‘She didn’t. I’ve found you again. And to think I almost didn’t come to the garden party. I’ve had no interest in anything since I’ve lost you. I only came to make my mother happy. I never thought I’d see you here.’
‘And I only came to make Charles and Julia happy,’ she said.
‘Julia?’ he asked.
‘Charles’s fiancée,’ she said.
He laughed.
‘What is it? she asked.
‘When I knew you were to stay with Charles in New York, I was jealous.’
‘You were?’ she asked, looking up at him.
‘Terribly jealous. If I’d known he had a fiancée it would have saved me a lot of heartache. But that is over now. Emilia, I love you. Against all hope I’ve found you. Will you do me the very great honour of becoming my wife?’
She turned up her face to his.
‘Yes, I will,’ she said.
He kissed her softly on the lips.
As he let her go, she sighed with happiness. She had found Carl, and she was to be his wife. They stayed there, wrapped up in each other, until the sun began to sink lower in the sky.
‘We must return to the other guests,’ said Carl at last. ‘My mother is here, and Pansy and Robert too. They will be overjoyed to know you have survived.’
He stood up, drawing her with him, and together they walked back through the gardens.
Pansy saw them first. She looked stunned, and then a smile broke out all over her face.
‘Emilia!’ she cried, flinging herself across the lawn and hugging Emilia, holding her tight.
Her cry drew the attention of Robert and Carl’s mother, and they followed Pansy across the lawn as fast as they could run, exclaiming happily and hugging Emilia, each in turn.
The joyful reunion soon drew the attention of the other guests, and Charles and Julia were drawn into t
he group. They were astonished when they learnt what had really happened on board Titanic, but very glad to make Carl’s acquaintance, and to be introduced to his mother, Robert and Pansy.
‘So that is why you were so downcast,’ said Julia.
‘Yes,’ Emilia admitted.
‘You could have told me. I would have understood,’ said Julia.
‘I could not bring myself to speak of it,’ said Emilia.
‘Go to him,’ said Julia. ‘This is your time now.’
Emilia went over to Carl and together they slipped away from their friends. There would be time enough for further celebrations later, but for now, all they wanted was each other.
‘You did not think of moving on with your life when you thought I was dead?’ asked Emilia, as they strolled through a secluded area of the grounds.
‘No. And you?’
‘No. Even when all hope had gone, I still could not forget you.’
‘Nor I you,’ said Carl. ‘When everything else has gone, love survives.’
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Praise for Amanda Grange
“Absolutely fascinating” – Historical Novel Society
“Lots of fun” – Woman
“Rich atmospheric details” – Publishers’ Weekly
“Affectionate” – Washington Post
“Sure to delight Austen fans” – Cheshire Life
Jane Austen retellings
Darcy’s Diary
(Pride and Prejudice)
Mr Knightley’s Diary
(Emma)
Edmund Bertram’s Diary
(Mansfield Park)
Colonel Brandon’s Diary
(Sense and Sensibility)