Without meaning to, she’d kept one hand flattened over her middle for the entirety of the meal, testing that new life that pushed against her gown, protecting it. Jack had watched her throughout with his slight, knowing smile.
Halfway through dessert, he’d put down his sherry, reached for her hand.
Their fingers met, skin to skin, all her rings and bracelets afire like the sunset in the low, flattering light.
CHAPTER 24
I didn’t know it would be our last kiss, the last time we ever spoke.
I didn’t know it would be the last time we ever touched.
Sunday, April 14th, 11:40 p.m.
Aboard Titanic
She awoke briefly from a dream about standing at the edge of a green copper roof—one of Jack’s hotels, perhaps—looking down at a busy street far below. In the dream, there came an earthquake, the mildest thing, but it alarmed her to be so close to the edge, and so Madeleine took a step back and opened her eyes. The last faint tremor of the earthquake still rattled her bed, but then it was gone, and she was able to fall back asleep.
*
“Madeleine. Wake up.”
“Father?”
The mattress shifted, dipped. “No, it’s me.”
She rolled over toward his voice, pushing her hair from her eyes. “Jack? What’s wrong?”
He was perched beside her on the bed just as he had been that morning, only now he was silhouetted with light instead of captured in shadow, and his clothing was different, and he smelled of brandy and cigars, and he wasn’t smiling.
He ran a hand up and down her arm, his palm bunching the silk of her gown.
“The ship has struck an iceberg.”
“What?” she said, bewildered.
“I’m sure it’s nothing. Just some scratches along the paint. But the captain has ordered everyone to collect our lifebelts and go abovedeck.”
“Our lifebelts?” She noticed now that the door behind him was open—the source of that bright shaft of light—with Rosalie beyond it, moving back and forth, carrying bundles in her arms. Madeleine wondered fuzzily if maybe this was all still part of her dream, but Jack’s hand was cold, very cold. It was that, more than anything else, that began to wake her.
“Purely a precaution,” he was saying in his soothing low voice. “I told you Smith was experienced, and with experience on a liner like this comes a solid dose of prudence. The insurance companies require all these little steps and measures. We’re utterly safe. This is Titanic, after all. We’ll go upstairs and wait in the lounge for a bit while they sort it all out, and then we’ll just come right back here. We were moving ahead at about half speed for a while, but I believe we’re now stopped. Maybe it’s not too late to catch a glimpse of the berg itself. It’ll be a fine story to tell our daughter one day.”
She sagged back against her pillows, feeling the heat of the mattress warmed by her body, the softness cushioning her head. The notion of even having to poke her bare feet out from beneath the covers seemed overwhelming.
Jack leaned over, brushed his lips against hers. She tasted the brandy, felt the small pleasant sting of his moustache, and lifted an arm to his shoulder to bring him closer.
“It’s only for a bit,” he said again, pulling away.
The electric lights overhead switched on, cut glass glinting. Rosalie, in her uniform but yawning widely, came to the bed.
“I will help you dress, madame.”
Madeleine yawned with her, sitting up. She ran a hand over her face, then crawled out of the bed.
“The mint woolen tailor-made, madame?”
“Yes, all right.”
She stood there swaying some, her body still half-surrendered to slumber, letting the nightgown come off, the combinations on, her corset （not tight）， stockings, all the rest. As she slipped her feet into her buckled shoes, Jack entered the chamber again, changed out of his formal evening wear for a lounge suit of blue serge and brown flannel. He carried three lifebelts, handed one of them to the maid.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yes.” She yawned again, unable to help it. “What about Kitty?”
The dog stood between them, her ears pinned back, her head low. Jack bent down to stroke her nose. From outside the suite, Madeleine heard fists pounding on doors, men’s voices talking about lifebelts and coats. Kitty didn’t even cock an ear to it.
“There’s no sense in dragging her out into all this,” Jack said. “She’ll be warmer and safer in here. We’ll be back soon.”
*
Just before they walked out the door, he pivoted to the wardrobe, pulling out her jewelry box. He grabbed a handful of things and returned to her with them: the platinum-and-diamond collar, a necklace of South Sea pearls. Five rings, a pin, and the strand of carnelian.