Hearts That Survive Part 6

Sat.u.r.day afternoon tea, April 13, 1912 Each time Lydia thought of becoming John's wife in this romantic setting, s.h.i.+vers of excitement washed through her like an ocean wave about to overwhelm. The wedding bells seemed to be ringing, and she'd had little time to freshen up since lunch and be ready for tea with heaven only knew who.

The girl in the mirror looked at her with s.h.i.+ning eyes, glowing skin and a smile on her lips. "Sorry, Lady Grace Frazier," who would have looked forward to planning her wedding, "I'm off to plan my own wedding."

She hardly had time to even miss John. But he was off on important errands after lunch. Caroline reminded him he'd need to respond to the captain's invitation. And John said he would show the invitation to Craven, since he was included.

A few minutes before two o'clock, Lydia left her suite and almost floated up the grand staircase to the boulevard leading to Cafe Parisien. She entered the sunlit veranda decorated with ivy and other plants scaling the trellises. Yes, this really was a boulevard and as Phoebe had said, even more like Paris than Paris itself. The other ladies were already seated.

Caroline saw her first and lifted her hand in greeting. Three tables had been moved together. Around them were seated Caroline, Lady Lavinia, and Phoebe. Three others she'd seen but had not met formally were Molly Brown, Madeleine Astor, and Harriett Sylverson.

Introductions were made, congratulations extended, questions and answers exchanged between Harriett and the French waiter, and tea and scones ordered by everyone, except Phoebe, who preferred hot lemonade.

The discussion turned immediately to the wedding.

"But," Lydia cautioned. "shouldn't we wait until the captain tells us for sure?"

"Oh, he knows already," Lady Lavinia said with a dainty sweep of her thin, lace-gloved hand. Madeleine smiled sweetly as if agreeing with her statement.

"Of course he knows," Molly said, "but before telling us women-" the roll of her eyes brought chuckles and nods, understanding exactly what she meant by that sarcastic tone of voice, "he will make certain the right men are present. They will make their plans about how the publicity is to be handled. Just you watch who's at the dinner table tonight and be prepared for all the photos being snapped."

Conversation quieted while the waiter served the delicacies.

Lady Lavinia took a sip of tea, lowered her cup, and addressed Molly, "You'll be with us at the captain's table tonight, I a.s.sume."

Molly's china cup clinked against the saucer as she set it down. "Been there every night so far." She laughed. "The men will make the decisions, but they need some outspoken women to tell them which ones to make."

Lydia had loved her before she formally met her. Some who were considered among the "new money" cla.s.s weren't really accepted by some who had name, background, and wealth reaching as far back as Methuselah. But Molly accepted herself, and from the expressions of the women around the tables, including Lydia, they admired her s.p.u.n.k and forwardness, a quality that proper ladies were expected to keep in strict abeyance.

"You see," Lady Lavinia explained further, "this is an event to be publicized. The t.i.tanic has already received wide acclaim. Simply sailing into New York harbor is anticlimactic. But a new bride, being the first to be married on this floating pal-"

"City!" Molly broke in. "This is no palace. It's a world. There's nothing like this in all Europe. And I've seen it all."

"Quite true," Lady Lavinia agreed. Others nodded. "Grander even than Windsor."

"Well, let's get on with the plans," Molly said. "We'll have ourselves a wedding, and if Edward can't perform the ceremony, I'll do it myself."

"Then it's settled," Caroline said in her calm way. "We'll tell that to Captain Smith, and he won't dare back down. He doesn't allow chaos on his s.h.i.+ps."

With the what-ifs and maybe-nots out of the way, the real plans began.

"You'll need something borrowed, something blue, and a sixpence for your shoe," Caroline said.

Lydia laughed. "You don't suppose a coin in my shoe would cause me to trip and fall? That would be the ultimate disgrace."

"Oh, but you'll have someone to escort you, won't you?" Madeleine asked. "Like walking someone down the aisle of the church?"

"My father isn't here, and I don't have anyone to do that."

"What about that nice Mr. Dowd?" Lavinia said. "He seems to hover over you and John like a chaperone."

Lydia began shaking her head and glanced at Caroline, who smiled knowingly. "Um . . . nooo."

"Enough said," Molly put in, getting the point that Craven's role had not been to chaperone. "You don't need an escort. The attention should be on you only."

Phoebe spoke up. "I could be the flower girl."

"Indeed! Yes!" came from several of the women, and they all looked pleased.

Phoebe looked ready to pop with pleasure. "I get pink roses in my room every morning. And I have a really pretty pink gown that Grandmother got for me."

"Oh, it's gorgeous," Lavinia said. "I hope it won't outs.h.i.+ne the bride."

Phoebe shook her head and spoke wistfully, "She's so pretty."

"Well, that settles that," Molly said. "The prettiest bride and the prettiest flower girl on the s.h.i.+p."

Phoebe looked so grandly happy, Lydia supposed she didn't realize they would be the only bride and flower girl on the s.h.i.+p.

"Henry could be a ring bearer. He'll be good if we tell him he won't get a train for Christmas if he misbehaves."

"Holy Mackerel!" Molly came unglued. "I was lucky to get a whistle for Christmas. Not the whole train."

Finally, the group settled down from the kind of boisterous laughter Lydia had only experienced with her young friends. When she could get her breath, she explained John's toy trains to Molly.

"But," Lydia announced, "this was not preplanned. I don't have a wedding band."

"Let's see if you could use mine." Caroline removed her wedding band, and Lydia easily slid it onto her finger with only a slight tug over her knuckle. She returned it to Caroline, who said, "John wouldn't really need one. Many men don't wear them, you know."

"I have the perfect cus.h.i.+on in my suite for the ring," Madeleine offered. "And now that you have a flower girl and ring bearer, what about a maid or matron of honor and best man?"

Lydia slipped her hand over Caroline's and lightly tapped it. Her friend smiled, turned her hand over, and gave Lydia's a little squeeze.

"Since Lydia and Caroline are holding hands under the table, maybe matron of honor has been decided." At Molly's words, they returned their hands to their laps and leaned away from each other, again bringing frivolity to the group.

Oh, planning was fun, even if something happened to prevent the wedding from materializing.

"I'd be delighted," Caroline said. "If that's what the handholding meant."

"It is." Lydia looked around at the happy faces of the women. "John will have to decide on best man." She looked at Molly. "Won't he?"

Molly lifted her shoulders. "Yeah. Then we'll see if it's the right one."

They could hardly drink their tea or keep a straight face when the waiter came to attend any further refreshment inclinations.

Lydia recalled that Craven had already refused to be best man, only an objecting better man. John's new friend S. J. would be perfect. Especially since his children would be taking part.

"I could wear my pink and rose gown," Caroline said. "If those colors suit you."

"That sounds grand. And something old should be no problem. A corset. A comb," Lydia mused.

"The engagement ring is new," Caroline said, "and the wedding band is borrowed."

"I have a blue garter," Madeleine offered.

"I'll give the gold coin," Molly said. "Heaven knows I have more than I know what to do with."

"Might I say something?"

The talking ceased, and they became as tranquil as the ocean. Although Harriett had joined in the frivolity, she hadn't said much. Judging by the intense look on her face, Lydia had a feeling Harriett might throw a splash of reality on their sea of plans. A few cups made a tinkling sound, returning to their saucers as if teatime had ended.

"Ma chere," Harriett said, "do you have a wedding gown?"

"No, I-"

She stood. "Never mind. If we're to dress for dinner, we'd best adjourn this little tete-a-tete and continue the discussion later."

Not even Molly made a comment, but studied Harriett with curiosity. Others looked as uncertain as Lydia felt about Harriett's abrupt dismissal when she had not really been much of a partic.i.p.ant.

Nevertheless, they deferred to her and adjourned the . . . tete-a-tete.

13.

Sat.u.r.day dinner in the a la Carte Restaurant, April 13, 1912 The air on the exposed promenade deck felt decidedly colder, and Lydia s.h.i.+vered beneath her fur. However, her heart was warmed by excitement, antic.i.p.ation, and the women being so eager to make this the grandest event ever. It had clearly sparked the romantic imagination of the women.

She finally had a moment to let John know about the plans made during teatime. He nodded. "I believe I've been congratulated by half the people on the s.h.i.+p. And I suppose this means I need to find a best man."

"At least we know that man isn't Craven," she said as they descended the staircase.

"Don't be so hard on him, Lydia. I can't blame him for wanting you."

She looked into his beloved face. "John, he cares for me. He thinks the world of me. He finds me lovely. He enjoys my company. He-"

"I get the point."

"Get this one too," she said. "I admire and respect him. And find him attractive. But," she said, dispelling the mock grimace on his face. "I love you."

"You know I love you."

She nodded, feeling a tightness in her throat and a warmth in her heart. "I know."

"We should go in," John said. They entered the reception room, where Caroline and William greeted them.

"Did you find out about printing invitations?" Caroline asked.

"It turns out," John said, "there's a printing room here on the s.h.i.+p with a printer and an a.s.sistant. As soon as we get official approval, the presses can print invitations as easily as they print daily embossed menus for the restaurants."

The bugle sounded, and they were escorted into the a la Carte. While they were being seated at their a.s.signed places, Lydia realized anew that this room was even more elegant than the dining saloon. The crystal chandeliers reflected the sparkle of the ladies' jewels making them s.h.i.+ne and seem to dance. The French fawn panels on the walls were a perfect companion to the rose-colored carpet. Little pink silk shades covered softly glowing lights on the tables. Silk curtains graced the large bay windows.

Lydia was seated beside John, and next to him at the end of the table was Craven, looking stiffly distinguished. On her left were Caroline, William, Henry, and Conrad Daley, the American owner of several newspapers. Mr. Ismay was across from Craven. Captain Smith sat directly across from John. Lydia thought that might be a good sign. On the captain's right were Molly, Harriett, S. J., Lady Lavinia, Madeleine Astor, and John Astor.

Everyone at the table seemed to be holding their breath as they waited for the words of the captain, who wore a smug expression. He gave a brief blessing, "Thank you, Lord, for the bounty, for it is in Thy name we pray, amen."

Following the "amen's" around the table, they placed their orders from the a la Carte menu.

"Now," the captain said, "I believe there has been some mention of a wedding aboard s.h.i.+p."

Molly poked him with her elbow. "What everybody wants to know, Ed, is are you going to do this or do I have Ismay fire you, and take over this operation myself?"

"Why, Mrs. Brown," he turned his head toward her with a dignified look on his face but a playfulness in his tone, "surely you know my pa.s.sengers' wishes are my command."

Ismay lifted his gla.s.s. "I believe we'll go with Captain Smith on this one."

"This is an occasion," Daley said from down the table. "A front-page article, to be sure. With pictures."

His glance started the photographers snapping and flas.h.i.+ng.

Men chorused, "Hear, Hear." Women made sounds of agreement. They all toasted with their gla.s.ses of wine. Pa.s.sengers at other tables turned to observe the joviality.

Lydia thought of her father's photos of him sitting at the captain's table. Daley had said a picture would be delivered the following day, along with a copy of the menu and a note of thanks from the captain.

That was possible because on the t.i.tanic there were several photographers.

"There will be chapel in the morning," Captain Smith reminded them. "But I will be able to perform the ceremony following dinner tomorrow evening. Just inform me of your plans."

Lydia felt overwhelmed. "Oh, this is too wonderful. You're all invited, of course. The whole room. The whole s.h.i.+p." She looked at John.

He laughed. "Whatever you want."

She wanted him as her husband. That would have been enough. But this would be wonderful for the pa.s.sengers, and the kind of publicity that would be good for all the businesspeople involved. Perhaps her father would be pleased with news that would be worldwide. She dared not look past John at Craven. She could imagine the tolerant expression on his face. She knew about his lingering gazes, reminding her of his saying she and John were impulsive, young, and foolish.

She wished he could read her thought: And just what in the world is wrong with that?

Lydia saw Madeleine discreetly put her hand to her mouth, turn to her husband, and whisper. Mr. Astor nodded, picked up his gla.s.s, and announced, "The reception will be my and Madeleine's gift to the bride and groom, one befitting the first couple to be married aboard the s.h.i.+p of dreams." He lifted his gla.s.s higher. "Invite the entire first cla.s.s, if you wish."

The "hear, hears" sounded again, the toast made, and the wine sipped.

The captain raised his hand for attention. "We must give time for diners to finish a leisurely dinner, and allow the staff time for setting up the reception."

He knew a reception given by the Astors would be no small affair.

Gla.s.ses were lifted again in agreement. "Settled," the captain said. "A wedding at 10:00 p.m."

"I have something to say," Harriett began and everyone quieted. She looked directly at Lydia. "You didn't bring your wedding dress, is that correct?"