As the Carpathia reached New York harbor the heavens themselves opened up. Thunder crashed, lightning streaked across the sky and we reduced steam even further as we slowly made our way into the harbor. Umbrellas were passed out by stewards, and many of us made our way out onto the deck to watch the city come into view. Will and the other officers had been asked to go to the bridge for our arrival, while us passengers were free to wait wherever we wanted. Mother decided to stay in the lounge while I chose to wait on deck. I was perfectly dry with the umbrella and found a place at a railing to watch. I could see the harbor pilot's boat coming towards us, practically leading a regatta.
A line of flashes from the water blinded me, and it seemed a hundred voices shouted out at once. I couldn't make out what they were saying, but they were crying out questions. I blinked the flash from my eyes, finally recognizing what the other boats were. They were hired boats, filled with reporters and photographers who all wanted to be the first to get a story from survivors. More flashes lit across the dark water, and the pilot's boat could barely make its way to the side of the Carpathia for all the others trying to get closer.
But it seemed all was well though, at least in terms of getting the pilot on board, and we started moving away from the other boats that crowded us. The rain pattered off my umbrella, and I watched the harbor slowly come into sight. It was familiar to me, piers and docks jutting out like wooden fingers and warehouses rising behind the ships that were docked. I knew some of them were ours, and it made me smile to see them again. The clear white paint reading 'Dalian Shipping' against a royal blue background, a short row of warehouses and docks that constituted our New York offices. I could see lights from the windows, ships tied up and their crews huddling on the railing, smoking and watching us steam by. I still felt a shiver of fear though, running down my spine like an icy finger. What was frightening was the amount of people crowding the docks, standing anywhere they could, stretching across hundreds of feet. Thousands, crushing together and many concentrated around the Cunard pier that we slowly moved past.
The ship slowed as we reached a dock, the offices by it proudly bearing the White Star flag. I heard orders and voices raised at the bow, and when I looked forward I saw them wrangling the lifeboats from the Titanic into the forward davits and them being lowered and rowed to the dock. A few boats had come from the dock and were helping move them over. That pier, which should have held a massive liner celebrating her first voyage, quickly became crowded with the empty, white lifeboats. I turned away from the ghostly image, the empty benches still haunting. Slowly we reversed, turning and returning to the Cunard pier.
I could see police holding back the crowd as the ship was docked, the lines were tied off and the gangplanks brought out. They were set up, and slowly I could see people begin to disembark. The crowd pushed the police line back, crying out before they fell silent again. The people coming off were not survivors, but Carpathia passengers. They slowly made their way through the crowd, and survivors began to follow them. It was slow going, the crowd almost unwilling to let anyone through in their desire to find relatives. It had been decided that the survivors should disembark in class order, third first and moving up. Those of us in first class were left to wait, or slowly join the line moving down the staircases.
I tried to ignore the weeping families that hurled themselves at survivors, to not hear them asking about loved ones and relatives. I collapsed my umbrella, heading back inside. The lounge was still warm and dry, and I saw Mother standing among some of the other women, including Mrs. Astor. It was decidedly less crowded though, a great number of people wanting nothing more than to feel solid ground under their feet. I caught Mother's eye and gave her a nod. She nodded back, and that was that. She'd find her way to the auto from the Fifth Avenue house. I'd collect the officers and make my way to our carriages. Slowly the lounge emptied out, and I made my way down to the gangways, but held back.
I watched as crew members began to leave, many of them wearing nothing but thin White Star shirts and trousers, all that they had left. I briefly wondered where they would go, and made my way to a window to watch them. What I assumed to be White Star company men were herding them out of the crowd, and I could see several large motor buses that they were being directed to. It seemed as if the company would provide for them then. I had to wait for quite awhile before I saw the officers come down, looking far more tired than they had this morning. All of them, from Lightoller down to Moody, who actually looked almost gray he was so pale, seemed exhausted and almost nervous. Especially Will, his face long and his stance rather hunched.
I walked up, taking his hand. "Come on, let's get going." He nodded, and we joined the end of the line of people disembarking. His grip was strong at least, and we made our way down to the pier, looking out. I stared at the line of press waiting for us, umbrellas thrown back as they sought a better look. Camera flashes cut through the night, brief flickers of light showing the faces behind them before they faded back into the dark. I turned to Will, "Let me take the lead, I can deal with them. Our carriages will be just across the way."
"There's an awful lot of them." He replied, staring down.
"They're vultures, vultures that I've handled before." I looked back to the other officers gathered around. "Do not say anything, do not stop. Get in the carriages. We will deal with everything once we get to the dock house." When it was clear we had space to move, I tipped my head down and pushed forward to pass the press crowding us, shouting a thousand questions.
"Who was at the wheel?"
"How many dead?"
"We're hearing rumors that passengers were shot, any truth to that?"
"Who gave the order to save women and children?"
It took time, and Will was practically crushed to my side as reporters pressed all around us. Money was thrust at him, with offers of interviews and requests for pictures, but he batted it away. The others behind us received similar offers, and they had to almost shove some of the reporters away in order for us to move. I was rather soaked by the time we reached the carriages and was immediately enveloped in a pair of arms. "Anastasia, oh thank God." I could barely hear Ezekiel as he crushed me to him. "I had heard you were alright but we were so worried." I stepped back, seeing Ezekiel's green eyes and flaming red hair that he could never quite tame, his rumpled shirt and coat. I was taking a breath to say something when he grabbed me again.
A large tanned hand settled on Ezekiel's shoulder, pulling him back. "Let her breathe son, she's had a rough go of it lately." Captain Abraham, gray bearded, with his sunburned and weather beaten face, looked across at me as his son stepped away. "I am so sorry my dear, we put on all steam to get here before you, I wanted to be sure you had something close to family waiting."
I sniffed, wiping at my face, ineffective against the rain. "Thank you, Abe. And you, Ezekiel."
"Your mother?" Abe had grabbed an umbrella and held it over me.
"She went to the Fifth Avenue house, I told her I would handle everything and she could hide away." I looked away from a crying family that had begun to walk past. "She is very unwell, grieving over what happened."
"I'll tell Morgan to head over, she'll need someone with her." He pulled me in for a hug, his voice dropping. "Your father?" I merely shook my head into his shoulder, unwilling and unable to say more. I heard him grumble. "Damn it Gareth, damn it all."
He released me and I moved back, feeling Will come up close behind me. I looked at him, "Will, this is Captain Abraham Fields and his son Ezekiel. Abraham is practically an uncle and Ezekiel is the closest thing I have to a brother." I turned back, "Abe, these are the officers from the Titanic and they are my friends. They will be staying with me in the dock house until they can leave."
I could see his brow furl. "Are you certain? I'm sure there's a hotel we can find for them."
"I'm sure Abe."
"I'll send Ezekiel over in the morning, and if you need anything you only have to send for me. The Star isn't set to head out for awhile, and I can push it back for a few weeks farther if need be." Abe said, moving back to gesture towards the coaches that were waiting for us. I couldn't help but smile at Abe, he was one of our most senior captains and was perfectly willing to abuse our family friendship to change his schedule to suit his needs. Within reason, of course. The carriages waiting for us were familiar, large and enclosed with four black horses each.
I nodded to the coachmen, too tired to see who they were. Will, Lightoller and Moody followed me into one carriage, the others entering the second. I settled onto the leather seat, Will by my side and the others across from us. It wasn't quite warm inside, but it was at least dry. The horses set off at a fast clip, and I felt Will sneak his hand around mine. I gave him a wan smile as I watched the city roll by. I could see newsboys on each and every corner, hawking papers and broadsides about the ship. I didn't look out after that.
Soon enough the dock house reared up before us. Considered modest, even pitiful, by most of our set, it was Father's favorite, a seven story brick house fitted with electricity, hot water, and huge windows overlooking the bay and the ocean beyond. It had little in terms of the grand entrances preferred by most of our set, only a set of wrought iron gates that opened on a stone drive that curved around the small yard. Once the carriages had stopped, I led our little group inside and was immediately assaulted by Peggy, our head housekeeper.
"Oh Miss Anastasia, it's so awful. Are these the men you said to expect? We've got beds turned down, and some of the girls will get their measurements and buy them clothing tomorrow. I sent them to go get some of the donated clothing for tomorrow though, since they've got nothing. We've already been receiving flowers, oh and this gentleman is here." She spoke in a rush after she had crushed me to her chest. The smell of lemon clung to her, sharp and clean. Her dark brown hair was pulled back and her green eyes were shining with tears as she stepped away. Her fine black dress was wrinkled, and I could see ash clinging to her skirts. She's been helping the maids then, as usual.
I looked away from her, taking in the foyer and the parlor just beyond. Absolutely massive flower arrangements were placed all around, vases and crystal bowl overflowing. I could see cards with each one, bright spots against the dark wood, condolences sent from friends, clients, from families that we hadn't seen in years. There were probably some even from various relatives back in the Midwest who I'd never even met.
I looked up as a well dressed man stepped forward, shaking ash from a cigar he had been smoking in the parlor, a packet held in his hands. "My condolences on your loss Miss, I actually have business with them." He said, holding out the packet to Will. "You all have been subpoenaed for the inquiry into the sinking, tomorrow at the Waldorf-Astoria, ten o'clock. You are not to leave the United States until you have been released." With hardly a nod of goodbye he picked up his hat from one of the maids and left the house. Will looked blankly at the packet in his hand, then slowly passed the letters out to the other officers. There was little discussion, and everyone just seemed to be exhausted. I could see a little of what was written, very official and legal documents for each of them.
I felt a bit of anger rise up. We had not even been on land for three hours and already this was happening. Not even a day of peace before a new problem arose. I wanted to say something, some kind of encouragement, but they all looked so tired. I was too, too tired to even think of what to say. I turned to Peggy instead, "Has some food been sent up to the guest rooms?"
"Yes, Miss. And the girls are ready to take them up." Peggy bustled forward, the house maids behind her. The maids were quite efficient, hustling not only the officers and myself upstairs, but somehow managing to take coats and caps from them at the same time. On the fourth floor they stopped, leading the officers off, but one maid appeared puzzled when Will did not start to follow.
I nodded to Will, "Let's head up."
"Miss, is he not staying down here?" The maid asked, and I knew why she was confused, the fourth floor had been given over entirely to guest rooms, family quarters were the next floor up. Father's office, a reception room, and our small library were on the sixth. I simply shook my head at the maid, starting up the stairs again. I heard Will's steps, slower and somewhat heavy behind me.
"Miss, I have a room ready for him down here." Peggy called out, coming back to the staircase.
"We will not need that one Peggy, Mr. Murdoch will be staying in the room across from mine." There was an unoccupied room on the floor, saved for a brother that had never come. It had been turned into a guest room when I was thirteen, in case any family came to visit. That way they wouldn't be offended by being outside of the family rooms.
"I haven't had it turned down Miss, let me send the girl up to start a fire and prepare the room." She bustled up the stairs past me, calling out for a maid to come back. I stared after her, then began my trudging again.
Will followed me, and I quickly pulled him though the well lit hallways, nautical themed paintings shining gaily against the dark wooden walls and the bright electric lights, and into my sitting room. He sat down hard on a chaise, looking around. I could smell something delicious, hiding under a cloche on a coffee table. The fireplace had been lit, and the mantel clock freshly wound. It chimed out nine o'clock before Will spoke. "This the modest house?"
"Yes, there's not even gilding on the walls." I said, standing so close to the fireplace I may as well have been in it. I watched him take it all in, the white furniture with light blue silk upholstery, the bright pine floorboards with Persian rugs, the windows and their silk curtains looking out on the blustery night. He could even see my room beyond the door, the four poster bed with its light blue hangings and the fluffy white blankets peeking out from beneath the patchwork quilt my grandmother had made for me.
"It's nice." Will finally said, coming over to stand by the fire. He gently took my hand. We stood there for awhile, listening to the maid across the hall. She was humming softly to herself, but quieted when she came to the door. She timidly poked her head in to say she was finished, and would Mr. Murdoch please come over to get his measurements taken? He went across the hall, and Peggy hustled in as soon as he had left. Her eyes had lost their tears, and she seemed totally focused now.
"Miss, let me get you ready." Her fingers were already flying across my coats, dress and the nightgown beneath, all of it stripped away and tossed in a corner. She held the life belt, I had carried it with me from the Carpathia, as if it would bite her. "I'll have this burned."
"No, put it in the chest there." I pointed to a battered old sea chest, inherited from my grandfather, that was severely out of place in my room, it was only because I called it my hope chest that it had escaped Peggy's industrious hands. Several times she had expressed an opinion that it was unseemly for a young lady to have such an old trunk, that surely a new gilded cedar chest would suit me better.
I had shot that down every time, for I loved the old chest. The lock no longer worked, the key having broken off in it long ago, and the leather handles on the side had long since cracked and fallen away. Peggy continually tried to disguise it, laying clothing over it or a blanket to keep it out of sight. Shaking my head, I stepped behind a Japanese screen to don a new night gown that had been left out for me. It was slightly thicker than what I had been wearing, and the silk dressing gown was quilted, the braiding along the hem quite intricate. The warmth they provided was much needed, and I cinched the velvet belt tightly around me. I had my eyes closed, yawning, when I came out and felt Peggy drawing me over to the dressing table to brush out my hair. I almost fell asleep as she slowly worked her way through it.
"Miss, what is going to happen? What will we do?" She spoke quietly as she brushed. Peggy had been pulling double duty as my lady's maid for awhile now, but I knew it weighed on her to have the additional duties. And to have this amount guests, the work must have tripled. "The servants are talking, it's all I can do to keep them from running off to some reporter. And now with all these men here. And what about the maids you engaged in France?"
I reached up and stilled her hand. "Peggy, we will deal with that tomorrow. The French maids want to go back, I told them to come see you about having their passage arranged on our accounts."
I could see her start to make some reply when a knock sounded at my sitting room door and Will slowly opened it. The silk pajamas he wore were too large, as was the smoking jacket he had belted around him. I should have felt something, seeing him swimming in Father's clothes, amusement, sadness, but nothing came. Just the same tiredness and exhaustion since the sinking. I looked to Peggy, "Thank you Peggy, please have the staff wake us in time to make the hearing tomorrow."
"But Miss, he should return to his room, it's not-"
"Thank you Peggy." I cut her off. She fumed for a minute, but bobbed a curtsy and left, slamming the door quite loudly on her way out. She'd find some way to punish me for this, more than likely a cold breakfast. Peggy could be quite firm on some matters, and found ways to inconvenience me until I acquiesced.
Will walked forward, a pair of oversize slippers flapping against the floor. "You never meant for me to sleep in that room."
"Will, I don't think I can sleep without you by my side." I said, walking up to him and giving him a kiss on the cheek. I sat down in a tufted velvet chair, removing the cloche and revealing a warm tureen of chicken soup on a tray. "But first, I'm starving." China bowls and spoons that had been provided were quickly put to use, and between the two of us we had the tureen clean in record time. I had missed our cook, she always managed to create something warm, well spiced, and filling. When we hosted parties we brought in an outside cook to oversee everything, but Mother had kept her basic Midwestern tastes. Food here might not be the fanciest or the most elegant, but there would always be plenty and no one went to bed hungry. I stood up, for if I stayed sitting I would fall asleep in that chair, in front of the fire. It didn't sound half bad to be honest.
Will picked up the tray and placed it outside, before closing the door. He flicked the lights off, leaving only the glow of the fire. My eyes were heavy, and I turned to Will. He opened his arms, and I practically collapsed into them. I kissed him, then waved weakly at the door. "Bed's in there."
We moved slowly, the tiredness almost seeping from our bones. My bedroom was a welcome haven, and I pointed out the bathroom and dressing room to Will, and I moved to the sea trunk. Peggy had merely set the life belt on top of it, I set it aside and opened it. I could see various sewing projects from over the years, embroidered chemises and petticoats, tablecloths and household linen, all waiting until I married. I heard Will settle onto the bed as I made my over to the coats, drawing my mementos from it. I wrapped them in a napkin, tucking them into the chest. Before I put the life belt in though, I grabbed a pen. It was difficult to write across the canvas, and I had to retrace my letters a few times before it was finally legible.
Titanic, April 15, 1912.
I placed it on top of everything, then shut the lid and latched it. I would examine everything more closely when, if, I could ever deal with what had happened. I turned to look at Will. He had discarded the smoking jacket, and had puled the blankets up high over him as he lay on his side. I turned out the light, easily finding my way to the other side of the bed. Sliding underneath the covers, I turned to him, drawing his arm around me. He opened an eye, "Ana, tomorrow-"
I placed a finger on his lips, "I'll be there."
"I don't even know what it will be like." He spoke quietly, "I don't want you to hear what happened."
"You told me, we struck ice." I stretched out, relishing the feel of my own bed.
"But you'll hear everything, about how I failed to spot it. Failed to turn the ship in time." He pulled away, laying flat on his back as he stared up at the bed hangings. "It was all my fault." I could feel the shame in his voice, and I watched him press his fingers to his temples, rubbing at them.
I followed him, laying my head down next to his and placing an arm across his chest., tangling my fingers in his and slowly pulling his hands from his face. "Did you put the ice in the way?"
"No." He mumbled, voice faint.
"Did you try to avoid it?"
"Yes."
"Then it sounds to me like it wasn't your fault." I kissed his cheek, "You did everything you could, we all did. But that's tomorrow Will, tonight, tonight we're here." I let my lips wander down to his ear, licking at his earlobe. He shivered slightly, but he placed an arm around me.
"Is this your plan for every time I think about the sinking?" Will's voice was more solid, and I reached up to gently draw my fingers down through his hair. He gave a soft little groan, his hand finding my waist.
I broke off for a moment, my voice a mere whisper against his ear. "It distracts you, doesn't it?" I heard him snort softly, and his hand moved up from my waist to my hair, gently stroking it. I leaned against it, enjoying the feel of his touch. I could feel my eyes growing heavy, and my head settled onto the pillow. I looked to Will, barely able to discern him in the dark. It was only the soft fire light from the sitting room that reached us, only a slight shine showing his eyes.
His voice was soft. "You can't do that every time, you know." I couldn't even speak, too tired to even think. Will dropped his hand from my hair, letting it fall to the mattress. For a moment I thought he would say something, but instead he stayed quiet. The only sounds I could hear was our breathing, the ticking of the pedestal clock, and the soft crackling of the fire. It felt good, it felt right to be here, in my home, with him. I let my eyes close, and I don't remember falling asleep, but it was deep and dreamless.