Sunday, April 14, 1912
Elizabeth fell asleep Saturday night waiting for her parents to return to their stateroom. She was terribly disappointed when she awoke sometime during the night to find herself lying on her bed fully clothed, icy air streaming in through her open porthole, and realized that she had never talked to her parents as she’d planned. The evening had accomplished nothing.
She buried her face in her hands, willing herself not to cry. Buoyed by Max’s loving kiss, she had been so prepared for the confrontation with her mother and father. But they were out when she entered their stateroom, and she’d tired of waiting on the chaise lounge. She’d gone into her room thinking only to change into a robe before returning to wait for them, for hours if necessary. But she had made the mistake of sitting down on her bed to slip her aching ankle out of its shoe. Fatigue had overtaken her and she’d sunk back into the comforting pillows, telling herself she would rest just for a few minutes.
And now it was the middle of the night. Her parents would be sound asleep by now.
When she awoke Sunday morning, the air entering through the porthole seemed much colder than on other mornings. Elizabeth remembered yesterday’s comments about icebergs in the area. Was it possible? It seemed cold enough. But Captain Smith was an experienced seaman. He would be an expert at steering around any large objects in the sea.
Closing the porthole, Elizabeth dressed hurriedly in a navy blue skirt and jacket, suitable for Sunday services. The service was held at ten-thirty in the first-class dining room. Elizabeth was surprised to see the red-haired girl from third-class there, the girl named Katie, along with a tall, blond girl. Both were gazing around in wide-eyed awe at the furnishings and decor in the salon.
Nola Farr said, “I suppose with Captain Smith conducting the service they felt it was only right to let third- and second-class passengers attend. Makes it rather crowded, doesn’t it?” Her tone of voice hinted that she found it more than just crowded, she found it distasteful.
Elizabeth glanced around for Max, found him standing off to her left. He smiled at her and waved, then faced front as the captain began to read from the shipping line’s company prayer book.
Her stomach felt queasy. She had no idea what she was going to say to her parents after breakfast. Perhaps they could compromise. She might be willing to endure the debut, if her mother would let her out of the marriage. That seemed fair. But then there was college, too. She wanted that as much as she wanted her engagement broken.
If only Max would face them with her. He could keep her calm, help her count to ten.
But this was her problem, not his. He had his own parents to deal with when he returned to New York. She would have to handle this one alone. And this time, they would have to listen.
If she could ever get her family together in one room to listen. Throughout the day, Elizabeth was repeatedly thwarted in her efforts to accomplish this.
Max found her in the writing room shortly before dinner. “Where have you been all day? I’ve been looking all over the ship for you. Lily said she hadn’t seen you. There’s ice about,” he said as he took a seat opposite her. “I was sending my grandmother a Marconigram and saw a few messages warning about ice fields ahead. That probably means icebergs, as well. One of the crewmen said bergs in this area are often as big as houses.”
“Big as houses? Who were the messages from?”
“From other ships in the area.” Max frowned. “Have you been out on deck? The temperature is diving considerably. So the idea of ice ahead makes a lot of sense.”
Elizabeth thought about that for a minute or two. If there really was ice ahead, wouldn’t the captain have to slow the ship? Perhaps even stop for a while until morning? It couldn’t be sensible to travel through ice at night, could it? If the Titanic stopped for the night, she would have more time.
“Have dinner with me,” he urged as they got up and prepared to leave the writing room.
Elizabeth shook her head. “I need to eat with my parents. I haven’t seen them alone at all. I’ve already made sure they have no dinner plans with other people. And I can spirit them straight back to the stateroom afterward. I won’t let them go into the lounge, and I won’t let them out of my sight.”
“So you’re going to kidnap your own parents?” Max was smiling. “I’d like to see that.”
Elizabeth smiled. “I have no choice.”
Dinner was a quiet, tense affair, and Elizabeth knew it was her fault. Her parents were both in good spirits, but she was so anxious about confronting them, she barely ate a morsel of food. Which her mother commented upon, which made Elizabeth even more tense. Count to ten, she kept repeating silently, count to ten. One…two…three…four…
Max was right. It did help.
She almost did have to kidnap her parents to get them back to the stateroom. On the way out of the dining salon, her mother stopped to chat briefly with Madeleine Astor, who was expecting a child, and then her father had to say hello to Mrs. Brown, who clapped him on the back and shouted an invitation to a card game. Elizabeth held her breath until he expressed his regrets and moved on. In the reception room, her parents stopped repeatedly to speak to friends. To Elizabeth, the trip from the table in the dining salon to their stateroom on C deck seemed to take hours.
When the door finally closed behind the three of them, she gave them just time enough to sit before announcing, “I would like to talk to both of you, please.”
Her father frowned, and her mother sighed, but they made no move to leave.
Elizabeth, still standing just inside the door because she was too anxious to sit, began talking. She had said all of these things before, but never so seriously. The time spent in the writing room had proved useful, as her thoughts were now so organized in her head she was able to present them calmly and logically. She explained that she did not wish to enter into a loveless marriage, and she did not love Alan Reed and never would. She added that she would be willing to go through the entire season of debut parties if her parents would at least consider sending her to college the following autumn. She kept her voice level and spoke quietly.
It seemed to work. Her parents listened without interruption, though her mother was tapping one foot impatiently against the wood trim on the chaise lounge. Neither got up and moved about, neither got up and left the room. Grateful for that much, she finished her carefully reasoned argument. And waited for their reaction.
Her mother’s came first, as she had known it would. “I had no idea you felt so strongly about marrying Alan,” she said, smoothing the folds of her pale yellow gown as she spoke. “You might have told us sooner.”
Elizabeth held her breath, feeling a kernel of hope spring alive within her. “I’m sorry. I thought I had. I realize it will be embarrassing for both of you when the engagement is canceled, but I’m sure Alan will understand.”
“Canceled?” Elizabeth’s mother looked up from her position on the chaise. “Oh, my dear, the engagement won’t be canceled.”
The kernel of hope died a swift but painful death. “But you said—”
“I merely said that you might have told us of your feelings sooner, so that we could have attended to them. We are not heartless, Elizabeth, though you apparently think otherwise. But we won’t be canceling anything. Not the engagement, not the debut season. This is why you have parents, darling, to lead you in the proper direction. To stop you from making foolish decisions. We love you very much, and we want the best for you. Seeing that you get it is our job.” Glancing at her husband, Nola Farr said, “Wouldn’t you say so, darling?”
Elizabeth had one last faint hope left. That her father might take her side, as he occasionally had in the past. If he did, the two of them might be able to sway her mother, just enough to at least cancel the engagement.
That hope lasted while her father seemed to ponder the question for a moment, but it, too, died as he nodded and answered, “Yes, I would say that is our job.” To Elizabeth, he said calmly, “Of course, we don’t expect you to understand that just now. Children never do. I myself didn’t when, at seventeen, I wanted to sign on a ship and travel the world. My father forbade it. I was angry, just as you are now. But he knew what he was doing, and I must say I’ve been grateful for some time now. My plan was ridiculously foolish. But I was too young to see that.”
Elizabeth tried to count. One…two… three…four…But it was too much. They were allied against her and together they made one formidable foe. “How do you know that?” she cried. “How do you know it would have been a foolish thing to do, if you didn’t do it? Maybe it would have been wonderful. Maybe you were just a coward!”
Elizabeth was sorry immediately. Her father flinched as if she had struck him, and her mother cried out, “Elizabeth, how could you!”
But wasn’t it true, just a little? He had wanted to go to sea, and he hadn’t gone.
She wasn’t going to follow his example. She wasn’t. One…two…three…four…it was no use. This was much too important to her to back down, and speaking logically and calmly hadn’t worked. They weren’t giving an inch. “You won’t even think about a compromise? I said I would go through the entire debut season. But I won’t, I will not marry Alan. And you can’t make me.”
Nola raised an eyebrow at that. She turned her head to look at her husband. “It’s that Whittaker boy,” she said, her voice perfectly calm. “I knew it. I should have forbidden her to see him, but I was afraid of offending Enid and Jules.” Turning back to Elizabeth, she said, “This is nothing more than a shipboard flirtation. I realize the young man is better-looking than Alan, and closer to your age. But Elizabeth, that boy has no future. He wants to be an artist, for heaven’s sake! You simply cannot be serious about him.”
“Oh, but I am. And he feels the same way. And I don’t care if he’s poor, I really don’t.”
“Well, now I am forbidding you to see him again,” Mrs. Farr said. “There will be no more talk of college, and during the remainder of this trip, you will not see or speak to Maxwell Whittaker, do you understand me?”
Tears filled Elizabeth’s eyes. But her voice was soft when she spoke. “No, Mother. That’s the problem. I don’t understand you. And I never will.” She wanted to keep fighting, not to give up until they had agreed to give her at least something of what she wanted. But it seemed so futile. It was futile. They had all the power. She had none.
“I’m not marrying Alan Reed,” Elizabeth said, still softly, and then she walked to the door to her room, opened it, went inside, closed the door behind her…and locked it.