The Light in the Darkness 2 Read online

  The Light In The Darkness

  A Titanic Novel

  Book Two

  Part IV & V

  Other Novels By Carla Robinson

  You Know You Want It

  The Light In The Darkness: A Titanic Novel (Book One)

  Dedication

  for the victims and their families

  PART IV

  “The sounds of people drowning are something that I can not describe to you, and neither can anyone else. It’s the most dreadful sound and there is a terrible silence that follows it.”

  - Eva Hart

  Chapter One

  LIVERPOOL, April 15th, 1912

  Sir Walter J. Howell, K.C.B

  Marine Department, Board of Trade,

  7, Whitehall Gardens,

  London. S.W.

  Dear Sir,

  Further to our communication of yesterday we were extremely sorry to have to send you the following wire this morning:-

  “Referring telegram yesterday ‘Titanic’ deeply grieved say that during night we received word steamer foundered about 675 souls mostly women and children saved”.

  Which we now beg to confirm.

  Yours faithfully,

  For ISMAY, IMRIE & CO

  Chapter Two

  Wednesday, April 24th, 1912

  Howard

  The days were becoming long; the fog was now so dense and thick that they’d had to stop before midday to collect the remaining bodies. The Captain had rendered the mission unsafe. “We cannot be risking live men for dead,” he’d told his crew sombrely. “If we can, we will pick up later this noon, but for now, we must accept that the ocean wants to keep its fill.” He hadn’t mentioned God, but Howard knew that sea-fearing and God-fearing were one and the same.

  Reverend Hind, who had buried more men, women and children in the past few days then he’d said goodbye to in his entire life, was now reading the Lord’s prayer, followed by the splash, splash, splash.

  “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done …” splash, splash, splash.

  “On Earth as it is in Heaven …” splash, splash, splash.

  The sound sickened Howard. So many condemned to the bottom of the ocean, the legs lined with weights to ensure they sank good and proper.

  “Forgive us our trespasses …” splash, splash, splash.

  Howard’s head ached. By the end of it, he counted seventy splashes, seventy more dead, confined to a watery tomb, whose families would never see them again. Some were unnamed, and even with their valuables collected and listed, would likely never find someone they belonged to. Howard couldn’t help but think of any stowaways that would never be accounted for. In a way, some people who had died during their voyage would be as if they never existed; no one to know their names, to mourn their loss, to remember them. It wasn’t just the poor that were being sent to a watery grave any longer; the Embalmer had long run out of crates and ice.

  Almost everyone brought aboard was now receiving a sea-burial, and no one was trying to race and take photos of growlers and bergs anymore. The men had all quietened; the enormity of the sea burials alone had risen quickly into the hundreds, and they had at least that on board. Some of the bodies were broken and disfigured; they’d likely hit or been hit by parts of the ship during the sinking. One man’s face had been all but sliced in two; he’d likely met his fate via the ship’s propeller. Howard had never seen a person’s face cut in half, and it made him fill ill. More than a few bodies had severe crush injuries, likely as the result of the funnels falling. Howard hoped they had not suffered, the way the others would have. In some ways, he preferred to see the bodies of those who had been claimed by something other than the sea; there was something sinister in the corpses that looked like they were sleeping. Howard could not help but wonder for how many minutes they screamed for help that would not come before succumbing to fatigue and eventual death.

  The young boy, who could scarcely be two, had taken a hold of every man’s hearts. They’d each declared that the finder’s fee they would earn from Jack Astor’s son, Vincent, would go to pay for the young boy’s funeral. They could not bear to let the sea claim him; and the idea that no one was left to mourn the boy created a heavy cloak of despair and dismay.

  The Mackay-Bennett would not be able to stay much longer, collecting bodies and debris. God no longer wanted them here; His patience waned with every giant Atlantic swell. Howard spent most of his days wet and freezing, grasping frantically at the ship’s railing, cold and wet itself, to prevent himself being tossed in the sea. Some men had started losing their breakfasts, and had been attended to by the doctor, before being told to drink more ale and harden up.

  Howard looked around the crew; they each wore dreary faces, weather-beaten from the swells that had ravaged their small ship. No one wanted to leave the dead, but no one wanted to stay – though no man would dare open their mouth. The Captain was a man of honour; he had been pained when he’d seen how many bodies that would never find a home.

  By and by, thought Howard, no one on God’s green earth had seen this many bodies.

  It was a sight, he was sure, that would haunt him to the end of his days.

  Chapter Three

  Sunday, April 14th, 1912

  Georgiana

  Georgiana readied herself in her most elegant and ornate outfit; it was a beautiful black velvet and lace dress, embroidered with hundreds of the most delicate beads, embroidered black see-through sleeves hung down upon her shoulders, and she wore a tight black pearl necklace, tightly fastened around her throat, and long, above-the-elbow silk black gloves. Her raven hair was pinned in beautiful curls, and Jessop had secured Georgiana’s sparkling tiara expertly. She looked fit to be presented at court, and she would easily capture the attention of many passengers this evening.

  She sighed; she had not seen Cecilia all day. Her parents hadn’t, either, though they had not seemed perplexed by it. They assumed that Cecilia was sulking in her room and was refusing to meet with them; Georgiana felt them fools. She knew her sister well, and Cecilia had confessed she believed the man she had met aboard the Boat Deck was the man she was meant to wed, and she said she did not care what it meant for her future. Celia would be pleased to be without so many beautiful things, she’d declared, if it meant her freedom.

  Out of love for her sister, Georgiana had not uttered a word of Cecilia’s declaration, not even to her beloved. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust William; he had more honour in one finger than she did in her entire body; it was that she did not trust herself. If she found herself confiding in William, she might find herself confiding in Jessop. While Jessop would defy the very Gods themselves to keep her mistress’s secrets, she knew that it pained her to do so. She respected Jessop too much to allow her desires to burden the young woman – especially if her parents ever learnt of her confession. Servants always fell on their blades for their mistresses and masters.

  Georgiana was wretched at Cecilia’s reckless decisions; she feared the wroth that would be laid upon her. She had no idea what the Vanderbilts would do; they might seek to ruin her, though she wasn’t sure if the American tabloids would make the British papers.

  She turned to William as she placed black pearl earrings, hoping he would provide sanity and levity for the night’s dinner. They’d declined the Widener’s invitation to dine with them – they were hosting a celebration for Captain Smith, and even Mr Bruce Ismay was said to be joining, despite his naturally reclusive behaviour – so that they could celebrate Eliana’s news that she was with child. It was not a dinner Georgiana was looking forward to; she did not feel like celebrating Eliana’s joy, not when she had caused so much wanton pain.

  “Are
you alright?” William asked, turning from his Valet to his wife. “I know this has been but taxing for you. I am certain we could provide a valid excuse if you would rather not join your family dinner.”

  “Pray, and then what? Papa will storm and shout, until he gets his way, and Mama and Celia will bear the brunt of his wroth. We won’t dock until Wednesday, no matter what the others have said. The rumours we’ll arrive Tuesday night? Poppycock, according to Papa. Mr Ismay showed Papa the iceberg warnings at lunch when he was talking with Mrs Thayer; he’d been handed them from the very captain himself, Papa said. Mama said that it appeared Mr Ismay was taken with Mrs Thayer, which was why he could not stop babbling. We may stop for the night, father said, if the Captain deemed it necessary, though Mr Ismay made sure and certain no one was to worry, for this is the Titanic. I cannot bear to think what the rest of the journey might be like, Will. I already want to reboard the ship when it’s due to leave the Thursday. I do not think I can bear to be around them anymore. It’s not the way I remember; Eliana was always a bully, but she was never so cruel as she is now. Her moods fly in the face of everything I remember of her. I fear my sweet memories are all but tarnished.”

  William kissed his wife’s forehead, softly and gently, cupping her face. Georgiana had a habit of rambling when she was anxious. “My love, I know it’s difficult now, but please do not act out of anger or fear. You love your family, their flaws and all. You wrote to me, remember? You loathed the idea that you would be but separated from them. Don’t say bitter things about Eliana, that you will later come to regret.”

  Georgiana sighed, taking a seat on the gold chaise in her suite. “Perhaps it was the idea of family, rather than family itself. I used to think I was blessed; now I think I was blind. You may often be right, dear William, but not always.”

  “You don’t mean that, Georgie.” He bent, kissing her gloved hands. “I know you don’t. Now, let us make our way to the restaurant.”

  Georgiana accepted his hand, and she touched her stomach once more. Her monthlies had not yet come, and despite the knowledge that she was unlikely to be with child, she hoped she was mistaken. Her sister’s pregnancy made her womb ache more, and while William lay with her every night, she was not aware of any symptoms that would suggest significance.

  Either way, it was irrelevant. She had a dinner party to attend to, and her father’s temperament would not abide lateness.

  Chapter Four

  Sunday, April 15th, 1912

  Cecilia

  Cecilia turned to Aiobheen, who was still fixing her hair and fastening a beautiful pearl comb tucked high into her curly hair – an heirloom that had lasted for six centuries, or so her Mama boasted, and was Cecilia’s most lavish headpiece; being unwed, she could not don a tiara like her sisters would – and said, without a tremor in her voice, “I must visit Henry tonight.”

  “M’lady –”

  Cecilia’s blue-grey eyes welled. “Please, Aiobheen,” she whispered. “I cannot bear it. He does not know what’s happened; I have not been able to reach word of him the entire day. You know I’ve been imprisoned. You’ve watched guard over me for half of the day.”

  Aiobheen clucked her tongue. “I know it’s not my place, M’lady, but maybe it’s for the best.”

  “Whatever do you mean, ‘for the best’?” Cecilia gaped.

  “Well, your Lord Father seems mighty upset, he does. It’s hard not overhearing him, even in the halls. Perhaps it would not do to irritate him further so; he may discover you’ve left your suite, and then what?” the maid wrung her hands.

  “Oh, Aiobheen, please don’t worry,” Cecilia soothed. “He will be late at dinner, and later even still in the Smoking Room. It is Sunday, and there’s more than one party being hosted tonight. Why, I’ve heard the Wideners are hosting a party for the Captain. We were invited, but Papa had to decline as he wanted to host his own, in celebration of Eliana and George’s good fortune. He’s very hopeful they produce a spare.”

  “Why is that, m’lady?” Aiobheen asked, as she helped buckle Cecilia’s shoes.

  “Well, as you well know, estates only pass to men in families like ours.”

  “Miss, I’m begging your pardon, but I think it’s all families. I’ve yet to hear of a woman that has her own money, separate from a man.” Aiobheen frowned. “Though there’s more women making their own way. Why, Dorothy Gibson’s been able to earn her own passage in first, and that’s not an easy feat for anyone, especially a woman.”

  Cecilia ignored Aiobheen’s reference to Dorothy; she wasn’t interested in chatting for gossip. She needed to see Henry. “Well, if something were to happen to Master Albert – God forbid – then it would pass to the next closest heir. Lady Primrose can’t inherit, so it would move in succession to Georgiana and William’s baby, should they have a son. I think Papa has fits over the very notion that after everything Georgiana’s caused, her and William should inherit Gresham Manor. Hence, my father’s enthusiasm about Eliana’s blessing. Papa does not wish the Gresham Manor to fall into ‘wayward’ hands.”

  “Your sister must be pleased, but I don’t see how this is relevant for you visiting Henry.” Cecilia shrugged. She had not yet spoken to her sister and had only heard the news of her sister’s pregnancy through hushed whispers, or her father’s angry command that she be dressed and ready for dinner at seven-thirty. He had been curt, and had finished by saying, “For God’s sake, wear something presentable, so one can bear to look at you.”

  Cecilia had felt her father’s statement as if he had slapped her; though it was better, she realised. She needed to become accustomed to the life she would be inheriting, by committing herself to Henry. If her father felt that she was inferior because she chose to marry for love, and he wished to disown her, disavowing all knowledge and interest in his own daughter, then that was on him. He could not claim to love what he deemed fit to possess, especially if that possession wasn’t just a human being, but his daughter.

  No matter what, Cecilia felt she deserved better than being her father’s property.

  “It’s hard to tell,” Cecilia finally replied, realising she hadn’t answered Aiobheen’s question. After all, how was she expected to earn Aiobheen’s trust if she didn’t share it? If Aiobheen was willing to risk a little for her, she should damn well be brave enough to do the same. “It’s been a perilous journey for her, you see. She has two living ones, but some have never properly reached gestation, and others have been born silent.”

  “That must be terribly hard on her,” Aiobheen replied.

  “It has been,” Cecilia agreed. “But it does not excuse her cruelty.”

  “Yet it explains it,” Aiobheen murmured, though Cecilia wasn’t sure if she had meant to say it aloud. It annoyed her that Aiobheen was right, and she would have bristled if she did not require the maid’s help.

  “I mean to slip to Henry’s room tonight; I must speak to him privately. Unfortunately, I cannot find another time in which I can safely meet him to explain.”

  “To – to his room, m’lady?” Aiobheen asked, looking horrified.

  “Yes, to his room,” replied Cecilia simply. “It is a matter of frank discussion, nothing unruly. If he wishes it, I will depart with him, and not my family, come Wednesday. Yet, if I wish to defy them in the way I plan to, I need to be certain he is a true, decorous man, that wishes the same.”

  Aiobheen wrung her hands again. “If it pleases your lady, I will cover for you for a brief window of time. But I will not have much in the way of an excuse, if you stay late. If you are past the turndown service, the others may take notice, and I cannot lie for you.”

  Cecilia nodded. “I can be back well before turndown,” she said, and Aiobheen nodded her assent.

  Chapter Five

  Sunday, April 14th, 1912

  Eliana

  “How are you feeling?” George was fretting, tapping his Oxford shoe against the dresser. It annoyed her more than she wanted to admit.

  �
��Fine,” she replied.

  “You only say fine when you are not,” he retorted.

  Eliana looked up in surprise. Did she? It could be a bluff, she thought.

  Or maybe her husband had noticed her, and perhaps she really did say ‘fine’ when she was anything but.

  “This whole thing is ridiculous,” Eliana snapped. “Papa has Cecilia under house arrest, on a ship. Why can’t he have her demoted to steerage, something more suitable for her station?” Why am I saying this? I don’t even mean it. Yet, Eliana felt she could not restrain herself. Why did she always want others to share her pain? Why couldn’t she be happy, with the knowledge that a babe was growing in her womb? At four months, the baby had grown more than most she’d carried. It was likely she’d bring the baby to term. So why was she so angry?

  “Ellie,” George warned, his tone firm. “That was unnecessarily cruel. Cecilia has not done anything wrong. Mostly.”

  “See? Even you can’t properly defend her!”

  “That’s only because I think it’s ill-befitting of a woman showing such open affection to a man that is not her betrothed or husband. If she wishes to marry Mr Hamilton, then I absolutely support such a decision.”

  Eliana turned angrily at her husband, raising her small, white fist. “How can you, when we were forced into marriage?”

  George turned to her; his face steely. “I am tired of this discussion, Eliana,” his eyes meeting hers. “You talk as if you’re trapped in some ungodly, unhappy marriage. I know our beginning was challenging, but I have loved you several years since. I have loved you with every child we have lost, even though I do not think you see it. I think you take my grief as unfeeling, when I am anything but. I have loved you for five years now, and yet you cannot stop screaming about the choices your sisters have when you did not have any. You talk of a deep unhappiness, and that unhappiness is the source of me.”