Part 8 (2/2)

”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.”

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