ladydeathfaerie (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ladydeathfaerie) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
marysuevirus2011-01-18 12:37 am
ladydeathfaerie) wrote in marysuevirus2011-01-18 12:37 am
Maiden Voyage
Title: Maiden Voyage
Chapter One: All Aboard
Fandom: the Marvel Universe, specifically an AU version featuring the Mutant Sues
Rating: mature.
Warnings: there will be mild violence and sex. maybe some language. blatant abuse of history
Disclaimer: the Marvel men do not belong to me. they belong to Marvel and whoever the hell else owns them. i'm simply borrowing them for the fun of it. i like putting them through hell, don't you know? i'm not making money from this, either. so don't even consider what you can score off me. i'm broke. not a penny to my name. the Sues belong to the women who thought them up, namely Dazzledfirestar, Nan, SFC, Gin and myself. don't steal them. they'll kick your ass. the name and concept of the Mary Sue Virus belong to Daz, who graciously allowed me to use it for my own personal pleasure.
A/Ns: this is an idea that's been rattling around in my head for some time. and it all started when i happened to be watching a movie. yeah, you know the one. the thought came to me... "What would Dare look like in Edwardian clothes?" and it just kind of took off after that. while i don't claim to be an expert on history by any stretch of the imagination, i used a couple of reference sites for the factual information. not that i've given much of it because to do so would suggest that i know what the fuck i'm going on about. so take it all with a grain of salt. here's hoping that this won't be a hideous mess. and that it won't be an epic of goat fuck proportions.
Maiden Voyage - the Index
Rosemary ran her hand over the duvet covering the bed, absently taking note of the silken feel of the threads against her palm. The thick comforter was done in soft, soothing shades of blue. It was, of course, covered in silk. The gold edging that ran all the way round was silk, too. So were the shams on the pillows. The sheets covering the bed were linen, the finest that money could buy. In fact, everything in the cabin was the finest that money could buy.
Straightening, she allowed her gaze to wander across the expanse of the bedroom. Deep, shining woods and luxuriant cloth wall paper covered the walls. The wood in the furniture matched the wainscoting on the lower half of the walls. The carpeting beneath her feet was plush and thick. Beautiful paintings adorned the walls. It was the height of luxury and this was only the bedroom. The living area was even more extravagant. She'd never seen the like in her life.
She, along with the other girls that had been hired by the White Star line as stewardesses, had been bustling back and forth for the past week in order to ensure that everything was at the ready. She'd seen the inside of every state room, every second class cabin, every single living quarter to be found aboard the ship. She'd made dining rooms and toilets ready for the coming passengers. It was doubtful that there was a single inch of the ship that she hadn't cleaned, stocked or seen. And despite all that, she was still in awe at the sheer size of the thing.
No one had believed it when White Star had announced that they planned to build the largest and grandest passenger steam ship that the world had ever seen. But it had happened. It had taken more than two years, but it had happened. She'd been at the docks when the ship had first been put to sea. The propeller had been giant next to the men who'd helped build the ship. She'd been a beautiful sight to see.
RMS Titanic was the most amazing thing she'd ever seen.
She was Rosemary's big opportunity. There was nothing for her in Ireland any more. Her parents had died a few years ago and what little family she had left had made the crossing to America. She'd been trying to scrimp and save every single farthing and ha'penny she could to purchase passage, but she'd come to realize that she'd be old and grey before such an event could occur. That knowledge had left her feeling a little put out. And then had come the opportunity to apply for work upon Titanic, whose maiden voyage would see her docked in New York City. It was the opportunity of a lifetime. Rosemary had jumped at the chance.
She didn't plan on being a maid for the rest of her life, good only for fetching blankets and pillows and other inanities for the rich and lazy. She wanted to be one of those rich and lazy, with enough money to keep her from ever having to work again. Perhaps she could manage a position as a songstress on the stage. She had a fair passing voice and had been told more than once that she could charm the halo off Saint Peter. Or perhaps she'd meet some dark and mysterious stranger who would declare his undying love for her, then he'd marry her and sweep her off her feet and take her to his mansion to live out the rest of her days in unequaled decadence.
Her lips quirked a little at that one. That one was more a flight of fancy than her hopes of being a well known singer. But a girl could dream, couldn't she? And it wasn't as if she would marry the first man who asked. She had no plans on marrying a man she didn't love. Money didn't matter. Love did. A clock on the wall chimed the hour, bringing Rosemary out of her thoughts. Passengers would be arriving soon. She didn't have long to get to the main entrance. Ducking into the loo, she made sure to check that she was presentable. All of the staff had been lectured sternly on presenting the best image possible to their guests.
Assured that she was spotless, she hurried out into the hall. After checking to ensure that there was no one to catch her, she hiked her skirts up halfway to her knees and took off running.
~*~
She made it to her post just before the first passenger came through the portal. Rosemary watched them come, the men in suits of black while the women were like peacocks. They wore the finest traveling gowns in a rainbow of colors. Some wore furs while others wore long overcoats. Their hats ranged in shape and size, some so large that they surely blocked out the sun. And the feathers... There must have been birds all over Europe that were bald.
A young couple passed through the entrance, the woman of much the same age as herself. She might have ignored them as she had the others, merely making note of their garments, but her instincts told her that this was a couple she should watch. She gave her attention to them and frowned. Something wasn't right, though she couldn't put her finger on just what it was.
While the gentleman was clad in the finest suit, the coat and trousers expertly tailored to his large frame, it still seemed to be an ill fit for him. She wasn't sure why she thought such a thing, but the idea wouldn't leave her alone. It was almost as if he was playing at having money. He was a touch too smug and all too eager to ensure that people saw the wealth he wore. She watched as his eyes roved the line of women who stood waiting to help escort passengers to their cabins, making note of those who caught his fancy. He leered openly, obviously without care just who knew his lascivious intent.
In comparison, the young woman at his side was quiet and withdrawn. She didn't quite look down at her feet, but it was a close thing. She was pale, the wide brim of her modest hat keeping the sun from touching her porcelain cheeks. Rosemary could see that her hair was dark, done up no doubt in the latest style, and her eyes were large and grey in color. Her coat was buff colored wool with long sleeves and a hem that hung nearly to her knees. The gown under it was in pale blue, the bottom hem not reaching her feet. The under skirt was a darker shade of blue, as were the pieces of silk and lace that accented the piece.
The woman was carrying a small child, a girl with blonde curls peeking out from under her bonnet that obviously came from the man with them. Her eyes were all her mother's, soft and large and grey as they stared at the chaos around them. Twin spots of color painted her cherubic cheeks pink. She was wrapped in a pale pink coat with shiny black shoes covering her feet. Rosemary didn't think the child could be more than six months old. And from the looks of it, her mother was already expecting another baby. It wasn't obvious, but there was a tightness in the fabric across the woman's abdomen that suggested there would soon be a second child.
A second woman joined their party, one dressed in less fashionable clothing. She was likely a maid to the young mother. But the way she watched the woman and the man suggested she was there more for his pleasure than hers.
Something inside of Rosemary wanted to reach out to the young mother, wanted to befriend her so that she wouldn't look quite so lost and afraid. But that would be improper and no doubt, the other woman wouldn't accept such an offer anyway. Still... She didn't like the feeling that she got staring at the small group.
The girl at her side, another Belfast lass, was called forward to help escort the young family to their suite. Rosemary watched her go, watched the way the man leered at the girl right in front of his wife. Watched the way the pregnant young mother looked both relieved and embarrassed all at once. The girl needed a friend in the worst way. Rosemary thought maybe she'd thumb her nose at convention just this once. What could it hurt?
The next group was a foursome, made up of an older and younger couple. Again, they were dressed
in their finest traveling clothes, both men sporting dark suits. The older man carried a cane and Rosemary couldn't be sure if it was simply a symbol of his position or if he needed it for other reasons. The woman at his side was clad in a buttery yellow gown that had tiny flowers embroidered into the skirt and on the belt that circled her waist. The plunge of the neckline was made modest by a white lace blouse worn beneath. She wore a coat of wool over the gown, the color a rich burnt orange. The hat matched, the brim so wide that it was a wonder she didn't knock it against her companions' heads. Ostrich plumes of white and the same shade of butter yellow as her gown flowed in a riotous waterfall of feathers across the right hand side of the hat. She carried herself upright, obviously proud and unabashed.
The young lady at her side bore a striking resemblance to her, from the porcelain of her skin to the sparkling green of her eyes. Only the hair was different, though the younger of the two had hers as perfectly coifed as her mother. Her hat was smaller, just wide enough to keep the sun out of her eyes. It was white, with a small green spray of silk roses on it instead of feathers. She wore a mint green color that darkened her eyes. There was an overcoat that was belted at the waist over a white, frilly blouse. A winking green gem stone, surrounded by gold filigree, made up the brooch that rested at the woman's neck. The hem of her coat was covered by small, soft, feminine ruffles, as was the hem of the skirt. She wore a pair of white gloves and talked animatedly with the man standing beside her.
Like the older gentleman, he wore a black traveling suit that only served to make his blonde hair seem lighter. His face was tanned, the darkened hue of his skin making his blue eyes stand out. He was a handsome one and smiled without hesitation when the redhead said something to him. Rosemary suspected it was risque, given the way she leaned toward him to say it. If the blush staining her cheeks was any indication, whatever he said to her in return was likely even less suited for proper company than her own words.
"Rosemary will escort you to your state rooms. You have adjoining suites, of course," the man who took their tickets told them.
"Thank you, my good man," the elder gentleman replied. They were American. The crewman turned and crooked a finger at her. Rosemary dipped into a quick curtsey, then hurried forward to show them the way to their cabins. He rattled off the room numbers, then tipped his hat at the quartet.
"If you'll follow me," Rosemary said and turned to begin the trek up the hall.
"You have the loveliest lilt in your voice," the young lady said. "Doesn't she have the loveliest lilt in her voice, Warren?"
"That she does, Haley." He obviously leaned closer to her because Rosemary heard him whispering something to her. She tittered in laughter almost immediately. A soft sound suggested that the girl, Haley, had slapped her companion on the arm. "Don't give me that look."
"Sometimes I wonder why we remain friends." She was laughing as she said it.
"Because no one else will put up with you, my dear." His voice was deep and filled with some emotion that Rosemary couldn't immediately place. There was a brief pause. She was tempted to look at the pair over her shoulder, but to do so would be considered rude and prying. When next he spoke, his voice was pitched lower and softer. "We're making it official, Haley. There's no longer any reason to remain so aloof when we discuss such matters. I plan on giving you the ring at dinner this evening so that your parents will know that we're serious about this."
"They already know we're serious. My mother has been trying to get me to marry you since I was all of five years old. This is a lifelong dream of hers."
"Our parents were always close, Haley. I believe my mother would have been pleased by our engagement."
"Are we doing the right thing, Warren? Maybe I shouldn't expect you to fix my problems for me." There was worry in Haley's voice, worry and something else. It made Rosemary wonder what those problems were. Before Warren could say anything more, they were standing before one of the doors to the adjoining state rooms that the two couples would be inhabiting. She turned to face them after ensuring that her face didn't show anything that she might be thinking. Offering them a pleasant smile, she motioned to the door with one hand.
"This door, and the one further down, are the doors to your state rooms. They're connected by a communal saloon, but each one has a sitting area of their own. You also each have a private loo in your state rooms. A porter will be bringing your luggage shortly and a late lunch will be served in the Grand Dining Hall once we get under way. Feel free to explore the ship and enjoy the amenities she offers."
"Thank you, miss." The young woman called Haley flashed a broad, carefree grin at her. It belied the seriousness of the conversation she'd just overheard. Rosemary dipped into a quick curtsey and found a pound note waiting for her when she rose. She took the tip with a faint blush on her cheeks.
"If you require anything else, all you need do is put in a request with any of the stewards or stewardesses." The blonde gentleman, the one she'd called Warren, touched his fingers to his forehead in a motion that tipped an imaginary hat her way. She offered the small group a smile and, assured that they needed nothing else, slipped around them to make her way back up the hall. No doubt the head of the serving staff would have more tasks that needed finishing before the ship left port.
A cock sure masculine voice came around the corner, American and filled with a certain amount of arrogance. "I promise you, old man, that my family will be set for the rest of their lives."
"You have no family. You're the last leaf on the family tree."
"I plan on having one. Eventually. Who knows? Maybe I'll find the woman to tame my wild ways on board this very ship." A moment after the words hit her, the two men came round the corner. A steward was ahead of them, obviously escorting them toward a state room or two. They were nearly the same height, but that was about the only thing similar about the two. One was light, with golden blonde hair and gentle blue eyes. The other had dark hair on his head, as well as dark hair over his upper lip and covering his chin. His eyes were blue, too, but there was a look in them that Rosemary had seen before. In other men's eyes. There was a hunger there, the desire for that next great conquest.
The blonde offered her a smile and tipped his head in her direction. The other man, however, let his gaze latch onto her. It slid along the length of her body, from the top of her head to the very tips of her toes, peeking out from under the hem of her skirt. Then they rose again until they found her face. For just a moment, barely the space of time from one beat of her heart to the next, their eyes met and held. And she could see, just looking at him for that fraction of a second, that he'd decided she was the next great conquest.
She had to admit, he was a handsome man. The suit he wore had obviously been tailored to fit him specifically and had likely cost him more money than Rosemary had ever seen in her life. He looked comfortable in his attire, at home and almost negligent. As if he knew his station but cared nothing for it, didn't allow it to affect what he did or chose to do. Based on the way the fine wool coat hugged his frame, he was a man who took pride in his body and knew how to showcase it with the clothing he put on it. And something told her that the body under that fine suit would be well sculpted and very easy on the eye.
"Damn it, Stark! Are you listening to me?" She heard the blonde, but only in a vague way. The dark headed man lifted his hand and waved it.
"Go on to your cabin, man. I'll catch up once I know this lovely creature's name." Rosemary felt a blush creep into her cheeks at his comment. The blonde's voice was soft as he grumbled something about roots and rotting under his breath. Then he was gone and she found herself alone with the dark headed man. "How about it, gorgeous? Will you give me your name?"
She was going to tell him, but something inside kept the name right on the tip of her tongue. There were rules that one was expected to follow. While they'd never been voiced aloud, they were there all the same. The staff had no business mingling with the passengers beyond their appointed duties. Oh, a minor friendship wouldn't be frowned upon. But the kind of mingling that was in the man's voice was frowned on. If word was to get back to her employer, she had no doubt she'd lose her job. "I'm sorry, sir. I really shouldn't."
"An Irish lass? How exciting." He offered her a smooth smile that filled her belly with a queer feeling. His voice was so persuasive. "Come now, my sweet. Surely there's no harm in telling me your name."
"I... I don't know," she replied. She wanted to tell him. She really did. But she wasn't sure it was a good idea. Despite her dreams of marrying a man who could support her so that she'd never have to work again, she was smart enough to know that they were exactly that. Dreams. The reality was he likely only saw her as a diversion during the course of the cruise. Once they docked, she had no doubt that he'd seek out some high society woman to pass his time with. "I have work to do. I should be going."
"Just your name. That's all I ask. A single name."
He was staring at her so intently. That queer feeling filled her belly again. She shrugged it off and tried to tell herself that she had no reason to tell him anything. As if he knew what she was thinking, he offered her a bright smile that melted her resolve. She found herself smiling back at him and the name rolled off her tongue without her meaning it to. "Rosemary."
"Rosemary? A lovely name for a lovely flower." Before she knew his intent, he stepped closer and caught up her hand in his own. The touch of his lips against her skin thrilled her in ways she didn't dare acknowledge. "My lovely Irish Rose. How late must you work?"
"I... Ah..." she stammered a moment or two. He was going to proposition her. She didn't want to become some distant name in his dulled memory. She had to put him off. "I'm afraid I'm not off duty until very late this evening."
"Perfect. Come see me when you've finished your duties." He motioned with one hand up the corridor. "I'm in cabin B12. I'll wait up for you." Before she could tell him that he'd be waiting in vain, he turned and sauntered away. She stared after him a moment, then shook her head. Strange, strange man.
Shrugging, Rosemary continued on her way. Surely there was something she was supposed to be doing.
~*~
Where the hallways in the First Class area were only sparsely populated with people, the halls of the Second Class section were much more crowded. Porters and stewards escorted people back and forth, talking over one another in an attempt to give all the proper instructions before they reached their destinations. People wove in and out of one another, doing their best to keep up with the liveried men and women showing them around. Rosemary kept herself almost completely flattened against the wall, only moving when there was room to do so.
People chattered noisily, their tones filled with excitement and amazement. Like herself and her fellow staff members, most of them were in awe at the sheer size of the vessel. There were men traveling by themselves and families traveling together. Children of all ages were eager to see the open expanse of the ocean.
Here, though the clothing was still of quality, it was plain to see that it wasn't of the same high quality material that went into making the garments of the First Class passengers. Women wore dresses that were of the same style, though most were of inexpensive cottons and much plainer pieces of lace instead of finely woven linens and handmade lenghts of lace. The men's coats weren't tailored. Instead, they were bought off the display in a mercantile and any alterations that needed to be made were done at home. She'd spent some time working for a seamstress, so she knew well enough to recognize the differences in clothing.
"I simply can't believe we'll be returning home on such an amazing ship!" The voice caught Rosemary's attention. It wasn't that it was louder than any other. Nor was it more strident. But it was filled with such awe and amazement, the accent so very obviously American, that she couldn't help herself. A trio of people were coming up the hall behind her, obviously a married couple with their daughter.
The man was taller than his wife, his hair a golden brown that bore signs of age in the form of twin patches of grey hair on either side of his temples that gave him a distinguished air. His eyes were watching everyone and everything, as if he didn't quite trust the people around him. Both women seemed oblivious to his actions, the two of them staring at one another as much as they looked at those around them while they conversed excitedly about the ship. Both women were blonde, though the older woman's hair was lightening with age. Their daughter's tresses were a lovely golden color that set off the deep green of her eyes.
"Its the finest ship of its kind, Jehnna," the mother told her child in much the same awe and amazement Rosemary had just heard from the younger woman. "It cost your father a pretty penny, but it'll no doubt be well worth the expenditure. How often does one get to sail on a vessel such as this one?"
"Never again," the man grumbled, though there was little real disgust in his words. The women smiled, as if this was something they'd come to expect of him. "If you've sailed on one ship, you've sailed on them all."
"But Papa, Titanic isn't like the others. This ship is like... none that have come before her. I can't thank you enough for buying our passage home on her."
"Get married to a respectable man and that'll be thanks enough." He was only half kidding in his statement. The girl smiled at him before reaching out to wrap her arms around him and hug him close.
"As soon as I find one that lives up to yours and Mama's expectations," she promised. When she planted a kiss on his cheek, the man smiled and turned a fond look her way.
"All your mother and I want for you, child, is your happiness. If the man you find can't make you happy, then he isn't the man for you."
"Well, I don't think I'll find him here," she replied. Rosemary watched the girl's eyes scan the ever growing crowd in the hallway. "Perhaps when we get home."
"As soon as you find him and know that he's the one who'll put a smile on your face every morning when you wake, don't let go," her mother told her. It was the older woman's turn to be hugged tightly.
"Of course not, Mama. When I find the right man, I plan on holding on until I grow old. Like you've done with Papa."
Whatever reply the man made was lost to the sound of a boisterous child. But it prompted laughter from the older woman. And Rosemary thought she saw a hint of red staining the man's cheeks. Smiling to herself, she set herself to her task once again.
~*~
The lower decks, where the Third Class passengers were being directed, were so terribly chaotic and almost as noisy as she'd heard the engine rooms were supposed to be. There were so many people to be found in the corridors down here. She'd heard from one of the stewards that there were nearly as many Third Class passengers making the crossing as there were men and women of the crew. She didn't know if those numbers were correct but she was willing to believe it.
Children ran back and forth, yelling and screaming. Parents attempted to reign them in and take control, but the atmosphere was wild and untamed. She watched, mildly amused, as a pair of boys ran past her, chasing a girl who was laughing. The three of them wove in and out of the crowd as they made their way to the far end of the hall.
Voices called out all around her. She recognized the cockneyed tones of some working class England. There were lilting Irish burrs and the harsher sounds of a Scottish brogue. Others spoke French. She thought she heard Spanish and Italian and there were other languages that she couldn't be sure about. In all, she thought she heard seven or eight different languages being spoken around her. Possibly more. There was so much noise that her head was starting to pound from it all. She needed to get to her task so that she could return to the upper decks where the noise was almost non-existent.
"Morgan! Faye! Enough. You two aren't four any more. This behavior is unacceptable." The voice belonged to a young man who was obviously as Irish as Rosemary was. She turned and spied him standing near a door to one of the cabins, staring at a pair of heads that were making their way toward the nearest stairwell. "D'ya hear me?"
"Yes, Jordan!" As one, twin women turned to look at him. They were petite and nearly identical in looks. Both had auburn hair and green eyes but the face of one was a little more angular than the other. Rosemary could see mischief shining on their faces. They wore home spun garments, not exactly rough but not of the same quality that the people she'd seen in the Second Class were wearing.
"Behave yourselves up there. And don't be getting lost." The man ordered.
"Now, Jordan. Don't be taking all our fun away." While only one girl spoke, both pouted prettily at him. He was obviously immune to the act because he didn't even crack a smile. Instead, his eyes remained hard hazel gems that glittered at them meaningfully. His hair was a darker shade than his sisters', more brown than auburn. He was obviously older than the two of them and something in his face suggested that he carried the burdens of the world on his shoulders.
"Behave! Don't make me tell you twice. Don't be a nuisance and stay out of the way of the other passengers."
"Of course, Jordan." They said it in unison. They turned to head for the stairs once again.
"Be back before the sun sets! I don't want you to be up there on your own after dark."
"We're not little girls, Jordan!" One of them turned so that she could say it to his face. "We just want to see everything!" Before he could say anymore, they were gone.
Smirking at the whole scene, Rosemary hurried on her way.
~*~
The whole day saw her running back and forth, fetching linens and other items for the cabins she'd been assigned to. She was lucky enough to have been given cabins in the First Class section, which meant fewer cabins to serve and the likelihood of better tips. She'd been surprised to find that she'd been given the cabins of the two American women she'd seen arriving earlier. After the ship had left port and gotten underway, she'd taken the opportunity to go back to her cabins and introduce herself to the women she would be helping over the course of the trip.
The redhead named Haley had been all smiles when she'd returned and introduced herself. And she made Rosemary feel welcome by talking to her as if she weren't a simple maid. The two of them chatted amiably for quite some time, even as Rosemary did her job and helped Haley change from her traveling gown into something more suited to an afternoon spent strolling about the deck of a cruise ship.
After leaving Haley's cabin, she found herself in the cabin of the young couple with the small girl. She introduced herself to man and his wife, learning that she could call the man Victor and his wife was Mrs. Creed. Their maid seemingly hovered close by, as if she wanted to hear every word spoken. Their child, a girl called Deirdre, was barely six months old and even though she could barely feel the ship moving through the water, the young mother claimed softly that she was seasick. It confirmed to Rosemary that there was a second child on the way.
There was an odd feeling coming off of the trio of adults. Though the man's eyes seemed to eat Rosemary alive, he made sure to come across as a doting husband. His big, beefy hands were always touching his young wife in what was meant to appear a gentle manner. But the love he was trying to convey seemed forced and fake. And his wife did nothing to convince her that her belief was wrong.
Mrs. Creed remained silent and almost withdrawn, though she smiled when it was required of her. She seemed to be more interested in her daughter than anything going on around her. Perhaps the child was her whole world. It didn't feel as if there was any real love between the two of them. When he touched his wife, she flinched and tried not to pull away from him. And the maid acted as if it was the young mother who was the third party. Somehow, Rosemary wouldn't at all be surprised to find out that the husband was sleeping with the maid. And anyone else he could get to climb into bed with him, no doubt.
The baby fussed, squirming in her mother's arms. Much to Rosemary's dismay, the husband tossed a foul look toward them. With a quiet "Excuse me," the young mother climbed from the chair she'd been sitting in and headed for the privacy of the suite's sleeping chamber. There was something about the way the young woman moved that immediately set Rosemary on edge. She hurried up and let the man know that she was there to help his wife with anything that the woman might need, then she excused herself and escaped out into the hallway.
The rest of the day was spent hurrying to and fro. She visited with both American women a couple of more times, helping them change into something more appropriate for dinner early in the evening. Neither woman wanted her help in getting ready for bed. Once she made her final rounds and saw to it that everyone had everything they needed, she was free to seek out her own bunk and rest for the night.
As she made her way toward the stairs that would take her to the lower decks, her mind recalled the events from earlier in the day. Stopping in her tracks, she turned to look toward the doors behind her.
She didn't even know his name. He hadn't told her what it was, even though he knew hers. She shouldn't be intrigued by the man. She had no business at all imagining what would happen between them if she was to turn back the way she'd come and knock upon his door. She had no business even considering his proposition. It was scandalous and she was a good girl.
But she couldn't deny that she was attracted to him.
Sighing, Rosemary allowed herself to ponder the queer feeling she'd had earlier. It wasn't something she'd ever felt before. At least, not like that. She'd had queer feelings in the pit of her stomach before, once upon a time when she'd been a young girl and had kissed her first boy. It had been equal parts fear, enjoyment and exhilaration. She'd felt it again when she'd been older, when she'd thought she'd fallen in love with a young man she'd met in the city. She'd come to find out that her emotions weren't what she'd thought them to be, that her reactions had been exaggerated by many different external influences. Earlier today, she'd had that same queer feeling that she'd felt years ago. None of them, though, had been as intense as what she'd felt today. She didn't dare attempt deciphering just what it all meant.
What she was contemplating was considered wrong in the eyes of the church. And Rosemary had always done her best to follow the holy word. Was it worth it, though? Her parents were dead and only an aunt and uncle were left for her. They lived in America, a pair of impetuous young lovers who had eloped when their parents had denied them the right to marry. Surely they'd understand if she slipped and gave herself to a night of passion with a stranger. Wouldn't they?
She really didn't know what she was supposed to do. She couldn't deny that she was attracted to the man. He was brash and beautiful to look upon. And he'd seemed very interested in her. Would it be wrong? Would it be a mistake?
Rosemary cursed at herself silently, then hastily asked God's forgiveness for her sin. She wanted to go knock on his door. She wanted to forget, just for once, that she was the product of a good Catholic upbringing. Her mother had always told her about her dreams for Rosemary, about the beautiful wedding dress she saw her daughter wearing at her wedding and the glorious cathedral that would host the ceremony.
"Faith, Ma. What would you do?" She asked the question softly, head tipped back so that she could look up at the ceiling. There was no answer, not that she'd expected one. And she was no where nearer to making a decision.
A door opened farther up the hall. She saw the blonde that had been with the man earlier. He emerged from the cabin that she knew was near the man's cabin. That decided her. There was no way she was walking up to the man's door and knocking when his friend was watching her. Rosemary dipped into a quick curtsey, then put her feet on the path to her own cabin.
It took her a long, long time to fall asleep. Her mind kept running in circles. When she did finally fall asleep, it was with his face behind her eyes. There was a knowing look on his face and she could plainly hear him calling to her, telling her to come to him.
Chapter One: All Aboard
Fandom: the Marvel Universe, specifically an AU version featuring the Mutant Sues
Rating: mature.
Warnings: there will be mild violence and sex. maybe some language. blatant abuse of history
Disclaimer: the Marvel men do not belong to me. they belong to Marvel and whoever the hell else owns them. i'm simply borrowing them for the fun of it. i like putting them through hell, don't you know? i'm not making money from this, either. so don't even consider what you can score off me. i'm broke. not a penny to my name. the Sues belong to the women who thought them up, namely Dazzledfirestar, Nan, SFC, Gin and myself. don't steal them. they'll kick your ass. the name and concept of the Mary Sue Virus belong to Daz, who graciously allowed me to use it for my own personal pleasure.
A/Ns: this is an idea that's been rattling around in my head for some time. and it all started when i happened to be watching a movie. yeah, you know the one. the thought came to me... "What would Dare look like in Edwardian clothes?" and it just kind of took off after that. while i don't claim to be an expert on history by any stretch of the imagination, i used a couple of reference sites for the factual information. not that i've given much of it because to do so would suggest that i know what the fuck i'm going on about. so take it all with a grain of salt. here's hoping that this won't be a hideous mess. and that it won't be an epic of goat fuck proportions.
Maiden Voyage - the Index
Rosemary ran her hand over the duvet covering the bed, absently taking note of the silken feel of the threads against her palm. The thick comforter was done in soft, soothing shades of blue. It was, of course, covered in silk. The gold edging that ran all the way round was silk, too. So were the shams on the pillows. The sheets covering the bed were linen, the finest that money could buy. In fact, everything in the cabin was the finest that money could buy.
Straightening, she allowed her gaze to wander across the expanse of the bedroom. Deep, shining woods and luxuriant cloth wall paper covered the walls. The wood in the furniture matched the wainscoting on the lower half of the walls. The carpeting beneath her feet was plush and thick. Beautiful paintings adorned the walls. It was the height of luxury and this was only the bedroom. The living area was even more extravagant. She'd never seen the like in her life.
She, along with the other girls that had been hired by the White Star line as stewardesses, had been bustling back and forth for the past week in order to ensure that everything was at the ready. She'd seen the inside of every state room, every second class cabin, every single living quarter to be found aboard the ship. She'd made dining rooms and toilets ready for the coming passengers. It was doubtful that there was a single inch of the ship that she hadn't cleaned, stocked or seen. And despite all that, she was still in awe at the sheer size of the thing.
No one had believed it when White Star had announced that they planned to build the largest and grandest passenger steam ship that the world had ever seen. But it had happened. It had taken more than two years, but it had happened. She'd been at the docks when the ship had first been put to sea. The propeller had been giant next to the men who'd helped build the ship. She'd been a beautiful sight to see.
RMS Titanic was the most amazing thing she'd ever seen.
She was Rosemary's big opportunity. There was nothing for her in Ireland any more. Her parents had died a few years ago and what little family she had left had made the crossing to America. She'd been trying to scrimp and save every single farthing and ha'penny she could to purchase passage, but she'd come to realize that she'd be old and grey before such an event could occur. That knowledge had left her feeling a little put out. And then had come the opportunity to apply for work upon Titanic, whose maiden voyage would see her docked in New York City. It was the opportunity of a lifetime. Rosemary had jumped at the chance.
She didn't plan on being a maid for the rest of her life, good only for fetching blankets and pillows and other inanities for the rich and lazy. She wanted to be one of those rich and lazy, with enough money to keep her from ever having to work again. Perhaps she could manage a position as a songstress on the stage. She had a fair passing voice and had been told more than once that she could charm the halo off Saint Peter. Or perhaps she'd meet some dark and mysterious stranger who would declare his undying love for her, then he'd marry her and sweep her off her feet and take her to his mansion to live out the rest of her days in unequaled decadence.
Her lips quirked a little at that one. That one was more a flight of fancy than her hopes of being a well known singer. But a girl could dream, couldn't she? And it wasn't as if she would marry the first man who asked. She had no plans on marrying a man she didn't love. Money didn't matter. Love did. A clock on the wall chimed the hour, bringing Rosemary out of her thoughts. Passengers would be arriving soon. She didn't have long to get to the main entrance. Ducking into the loo, she made sure to check that she was presentable. All of the staff had been lectured sternly on presenting the best image possible to their guests.
Assured that she was spotless, she hurried out into the hall. After checking to ensure that there was no one to catch her, she hiked her skirts up halfway to her knees and took off running.
~*~
She made it to her post just before the first passenger came through the portal. Rosemary watched them come, the men in suits of black while the women were like peacocks. They wore the finest traveling gowns in a rainbow of colors. Some wore furs while others wore long overcoats. Their hats ranged in shape and size, some so large that they surely blocked out the sun. And the feathers... There must have been birds all over Europe that were bald.
A young couple passed through the entrance, the woman of much the same age as herself. She might have ignored them as she had the others, merely making note of their garments, but her instincts told her that this was a couple she should watch. She gave her attention to them and frowned. Something wasn't right, though she couldn't put her finger on just what it was.
While the gentleman was clad in the finest suit, the coat and trousers expertly tailored to his large frame, it still seemed to be an ill fit for him. She wasn't sure why she thought such a thing, but the idea wouldn't leave her alone. It was almost as if he was playing at having money. He was a touch too smug and all too eager to ensure that people saw the wealth he wore. She watched as his eyes roved the line of women who stood waiting to help escort passengers to their cabins, making note of those who caught his fancy. He leered openly, obviously without care just who knew his lascivious intent.
In comparison, the young woman at his side was quiet and withdrawn. She didn't quite look down at her feet, but it was a close thing. She was pale, the wide brim of her modest hat keeping the sun from touching her porcelain cheeks. Rosemary could see that her hair was dark, done up no doubt in the latest style, and her eyes were large and grey in color. Her coat was buff colored wool with long sleeves and a hem that hung nearly to her knees. The gown under it was in pale blue, the bottom hem not reaching her feet. The under skirt was a darker shade of blue, as were the pieces of silk and lace that accented the piece.
The woman was carrying a small child, a girl with blonde curls peeking out from under her bonnet that obviously came from the man with them. Her eyes were all her mother's, soft and large and grey as they stared at the chaos around them. Twin spots of color painted her cherubic cheeks pink. She was wrapped in a pale pink coat with shiny black shoes covering her feet. Rosemary didn't think the child could be more than six months old. And from the looks of it, her mother was already expecting another baby. It wasn't obvious, but there was a tightness in the fabric across the woman's abdomen that suggested there would soon be a second child.
A second woman joined their party, one dressed in less fashionable clothing. She was likely a maid to the young mother. But the way she watched the woman and the man suggested she was there more for his pleasure than hers.
Something inside of Rosemary wanted to reach out to the young mother, wanted to befriend her so that she wouldn't look quite so lost and afraid. But that would be improper and no doubt, the other woman wouldn't accept such an offer anyway. Still... She didn't like the feeling that she got staring at the small group.
The girl at her side, another Belfast lass, was called forward to help escort the young family to their suite. Rosemary watched her go, watched the way the man leered at the girl right in front of his wife. Watched the way the pregnant young mother looked both relieved and embarrassed all at once. The girl needed a friend in the worst way. Rosemary thought maybe she'd thumb her nose at convention just this once. What could it hurt?
The next group was a foursome, made up of an older and younger couple. Again, they were dressed
in their finest traveling clothes, both men sporting dark suits. The older man carried a cane and Rosemary couldn't be sure if it was simply a symbol of his position or if he needed it for other reasons. The woman at his side was clad in a buttery yellow gown that had tiny flowers embroidered into the skirt and on the belt that circled her waist. The plunge of the neckline was made modest by a white lace blouse worn beneath. She wore a coat of wool over the gown, the color a rich burnt orange. The hat matched, the brim so wide that it was a wonder she didn't knock it against her companions' heads. Ostrich plumes of white and the same shade of butter yellow as her gown flowed in a riotous waterfall of feathers across the right hand side of the hat. She carried herself upright, obviously proud and unabashed.
The young lady at her side bore a striking resemblance to her, from the porcelain of her skin to the sparkling green of her eyes. Only the hair was different, though the younger of the two had hers as perfectly coifed as her mother. Her hat was smaller, just wide enough to keep the sun out of her eyes. It was white, with a small green spray of silk roses on it instead of feathers. She wore a mint green color that darkened her eyes. There was an overcoat that was belted at the waist over a white, frilly blouse. A winking green gem stone, surrounded by gold filigree, made up the brooch that rested at the woman's neck. The hem of her coat was covered by small, soft, feminine ruffles, as was the hem of the skirt. She wore a pair of white gloves and talked animatedly with the man standing beside her.
Like the older gentleman, he wore a black traveling suit that only served to make his blonde hair seem lighter. His face was tanned, the darkened hue of his skin making his blue eyes stand out. He was a handsome one and smiled without hesitation when the redhead said something to him. Rosemary suspected it was risque, given the way she leaned toward him to say it. If the blush staining her cheeks was any indication, whatever he said to her in return was likely even less suited for proper company than her own words.
"Rosemary will escort you to your state rooms. You have adjoining suites, of course," the man who took their tickets told them.
"Thank you, my good man," the elder gentleman replied. They were American. The crewman turned and crooked a finger at her. Rosemary dipped into a quick curtsey, then hurried forward to show them the way to their cabins. He rattled off the room numbers, then tipped his hat at the quartet.
"If you'll follow me," Rosemary said and turned to begin the trek up the hall.
"You have the loveliest lilt in your voice," the young lady said. "Doesn't she have the loveliest lilt in her voice, Warren?"
"That she does, Haley." He obviously leaned closer to her because Rosemary heard him whispering something to her. She tittered in laughter almost immediately. A soft sound suggested that the girl, Haley, had slapped her companion on the arm. "Don't give me that look."
"Sometimes I wonder why we remain friends." She was laughing as she said it.
"Because no one else will put up with you, my dear." His voice was deep and filled with some emotion that Rosemary couldn't immediately place. There was a brief pause. She was tempted to look at the pair over her shoulder, but to do so would be considered rude and prying. When next he spoke, his voice was pitched lower and softer. "We're making it official, Haley. There's no longer any reason to remain so aloof when we discuss such matters. I plan on giving you the ring at dinner this evening so that your parents will know that we're serious about this."
"They already know we're serious. My mother has been trying to get me to marry you since I was all of five years old. This is a lifelong dream of hers."
"Our parents were always close, Haley. I believe my mother would have been pleased by our engagement."
"Are we doing the right thing, Warren? Maybe I shouldn't expect you to fix my problems for me." There was worry in Haley's voice, worry and something else. It made Rosemary wonder what those problems were. Before Warren could say anything more, they were standing before one of the doors to the adjoining state rooms that the two couples would be inhabiting. She turned to face them after ensuring that her face didn't show anything that she might be thinking. Offering them a pleasant smile, she motioned to the door with one hand.
"This door, and the one further down, are the doors to your state rooms. They're connected by a communal saloon, but each one has a sitting area of their own. You also each have a private loo in your state rooms. A porter will be bringing your luggage shortly and a late lunch will be served in the Grand Dining Hall once we get under way. Feel free to explore the ship and enjoy the amenities she offers."
"Thank you, miss." The young woman called Haley flashed a broad, carefree grin at her. It belied the seriousness of the conversation she'd just overheard. Rosemary dipped into a quick curtsey and found a pound note waiting for her when she rose. She took the tip with a faint blush on her cheeks.
"If you require anything else, all you need do is put in a request with any of the stewards or stewardesses." The blonde gentleman, the one she'd called Warren, touched his fingers to his forehead in a motion that tipped an imaginary hat her way. She offered the small group a smile and, assured that they needed nothing else, slipped around them to make her way back up the hall. No doubt the head of the serving staff would have more tasks that needed finishing before the ship left port.
A cock sure masculine voice came around the corner, American and filled with a certain amount of arrogance. "I promise you, old man, that my family will be set for the rest of their lives."
"You have no family. You're the last leaf on the family tree."
"I plan on having one. Eventually. Who knows? Maybe I'll find the woman to tame my wild ways on board this very ship." A moment after the words hit her, the two men came round the corner. A steward was ahead of them, obviously escorting them toward a state room or two. They were nearly the same height, but that was about the only thing similar about the two. One was light, with golden blonde hair and gentle blue eyes. The other had dark hair on his head, as well as dark hair over his upper lip and covering his chin. His eyes were blue, too, but there was a look in them that Rosemary had seen before. In other men's eyes. There was a hunger there, the desire for that next great conquest.
The blonde offered her a smile and tipped his head in her direction. The other man, however, let his gaze latch onto her. It slid along the length of her body, from the top of her head to the very tips of her toes, peeking out from under the hem of her skirt. Then they rose again until they found her face. For just a moment, barely the space of time from one beat of her heart to the next, their eyes met and held. And she could see, just looking at him for that fraction of a second, that he'd decided she was the next great conquest.
She had to admit, he was a handsome man. The suit he wore had obviously been tailored to fit him specifically and had likely cost him more money than Rosemary had ever seen in her life. He looked comfortable in his attire, at home and almost negligent. As if he knew his station but cared nothing for it, didn't allow it to affect what he did or chose to do. Based on the way the fine wool coat hugged his frame, he was a man who took pride in his body and knew how to showcase it with the clothing he put on it. And something told her that the body under that fine suit would be well sculpted and very easy on the eye.
"Damn it, Stark! Are you listening to me?" She heard the blonde, but only in a vague way. The dark headed man lifted his hand and waved it.
"Go on to your cabin, man. I'll catch up once I know this lovely creature's name." Rosemary felt a blush creep into her cheeks at his comment. The blonde's voice was soft as he grumbled something about roots and rotting under his breath. Then he was gone and she found herself alone with the dark headed man. "How about it, gorgeous? Will you give me your name?"
She was going to tell him, but something inside kept the name right on the tip of her tongue. There were rules that one was expected to follow. While they'd never been voiced aloud, they were there all the same. The staff had no business mingling with the passengers beyond their appointed duties. Oh, a minor friendship wouldn't be frowned upon. But the kind of mingling that was in the man's voice was frowned on. If word was to get back to her employer, she had no doubt she'd lose her job. "I'm sorry, sir. I really shouldn't."
"An Irish lass? How exciting." He offered her a smooth smile that filled her belly with a queer feeling. His voice was so persuasive. "Come now, my sweet. Surely there's no harm in telling me your name."
"I... I don't know," she replied. She wanted to tell him. She really did. But she wasn't sure it was a good idea. Despite her dreams of marrying a man who could support her so that she'd never have to work again, she was smart enough to know that they were exactly that. Dreams. The reality was he likely only saw her as a diversion during the course of the cruise. Once they docked, she had no doubt that he'd seek out some high society woman to pass his time with. "I have work to do. I should be going."
"Just your name. That's all I ask. A single name."
He was staring at her so intently. That queer feeling filled her belly again. She shrugged it off and tried to tell herself that she had no reason to tell him anything. As if he knew what she was thinking, he offered her a bright smile that melted her resolve. She found herself smiling back at him and the name rolled off her tongue without her meaning it to. "Rosemary."
"Rosemary? A lovely name for a lovely flower." Before she knew his intent, he stepped closer and caught up her hand in his own. The touch of his lips against her skin thrilled her in ways she didn't dare acknowledge. "My lovely Irish Rose. How late must you work?"
"I... Ah..." she stammered a moment or two. He was going to proposition her. She didn't want to become some distant name in his dulled memory. She had to put him off. "I'm afraid I'm not off duty until very late this evening."
"Perfect. Come see me when you've finished your duties." He motioned with one hand up the corridor. "I'm in cabin B12. I'll wait up for you." Before she could tell him that he'd be waiting in vain, he turned and sauntered away. She stared after him a moment, then shook her head. Strange, strange man.
Shrugging, Rosemary continued on her way. Surely there was something she was supposed to be doing.
~*~
Where the hallways in the First Class area were only sparsely populated with people, the halls of the Second Class section were much more crowded. Porters and stewards escorted people back and forth, talking over one another in an attempt to give all the proper instructions before they reached their destinations. People wove in and out of one another, doing their best to keep up with the liveried men and women showing them around. Rosemary kept herself almost completely flattened against the wall, only moving when there was room to do so.
People chattered noisily, their tones filled with excitement and amazement. Like herself and her fellow staff members, most of them were in awe at the sheer size of the vessel. There were men traveling by themselves and families traveling together. Children of all ages were eager to see the open expanse of the ocean.
Here, though the clothing was still of quality, it was plain to see that it wasn't of the same high quality material that went into making the garments of the First Class passengers. Women wore dresses that were of the same style, though most were of inexpensive cottons and much plainer pieces of lace instead of finely woven linens and handmade lenghts of lace. The men's coats weren't tailored. Instead, they were bought off the display in a mercantile and any alterations that needed to be made were done at home. She'd spent some time working for a seamstress, so she knew well enough to recognize the differences in clothing.
"I simply can't believe we'll be returning home on such an amazing ship!" The voice caught Rosemary's attention. It wasn't that it was louder than any other. Nor was it more strident. But it was filled with such awe and amazement, the accent so very obviously American, that she couldn't help herself. A trio of people were coming up the hall behind her, obviously a married couple with their daughter.
The man was taller than his wife, his hair a golden brown that bore signs of age in the form of twin patches of grey hair on either side of his temples that gave him a distinguished air. His eyes were watching everyone and everything, as if he didn't quite trust the people around him. Both women seemed oblivious to his actions, the two of them staring at one another as much as they looked at those around them while they conversed excitedly about the ship. Both women were blonde, though the older woman's hair was lightening with age. Their daughter's tresses were a lovely golden color that set off the deep green of her eyes.
"Its the finest ship of its kind, Jehnna," the mother told her child in much the same awe and amazement Rosemary had just heard from the younger woman. "It cost your father a pretty penny, but it'll no doubt be well worth the expenditure. How often does one get to sail on a vessel such as this one?"
"Never again," the man grumbled, though there was little real disgust in his words. The women smiled, as if this was something they'd come to expect of him. "If you've sailed on one ship, you've sailed on them all."
"But Papa, Titanic isn't like the others. This ship is like... none that have come before her. I can't thank you enough for buying our passage home on her."
"Get married to a respectable man and that'll be thanks enough." He was only half kidding in his statement. The girl smiled at him before reaching out to wrap her arms around him and hug him close.
"As soon as I find one that lives up to yours and Mama's expectations," she promised. When she planted a kiss on his cheek, the man smiled and turned a fond look her way.
"All your mother and I want for you, child, is your happiness. If the man you find can't make you happy, then he isn't the man for you."
"Well, I don't think I'll find him here," she replied. Rosemary watched the girl's eyes scan the ever growing crowd in the hallway. "Perhaps when we get home."
"As soon as you find him and know that he's the one who'll put a smile on your face every morning when you wake, don't let go," her mother told her. It was the older woman's turn to be hugged tightly.
"Of course not, Mama. When I find the right man, I plan on holding on until I grow old. Like you've done with Papa."
Whatever reply the man made was lost to the sound of a boisterous child. But it prompted laughter from the older woman. And Rosemary thought she saw a hint of red staining the man's cheeks. Smiling to herself, she set herself to her task once again.
~*~
The lower decks, where the Third Class passengers were being directed, were so terribly chaotic and almost as noisy as she'd heard the engine rooms were supposed to be. There were so many people to be found in the corridors down here. She'd heard from one of the stewards that there were nearly as many Third Class passengers making the crossing as there were men and women of the crew. She didn't know if those numbers were correct but she was willing to believe it.
Children ran back and forth, yelling and screaming. Parents attempted to reign them in and take control, but the atmosphere was wild and untamed. She watched, mildly amused, as a pair of boys ran past her, chasing a girl who was laughing. The three of them wove in and out of the crowd as they made their way to the far end of the hall.
Voices called out all around her. She recognized the cockneyed tones of some working class England. There were lilting Irish burrs and the harsher sounds of a Scottish brogue. Others spoke French. She thought she heard Spanish and Italian and there were other languages that she couldn't be sure about. In all, she thought she heard seven or eight different languages being spoken around her. Possibly more. There was so much noise that her head was starting to pound from it all. She needed to get to her task so that she could return to the upper decks where the noise was almost non-existent.
"Morgan! Faye! Enough. You two aren't four any more. This behavior is unacceptable." The voice belonged to a young man who was obviously as Irish as Rosemary was. She turned and spied him standing near a door to one of the cabins, staring at a pair of heads that were making their way toward the nearest stairwell. "D'ya hear me?"
"Yes, Jordan!" As one, twin women turned to look at him. They were petite and nearly identical in looks. Both had auburn hair and green eyes but the face of one was a little more angular than the other. Rosemary could see mischief shining on their faces. They wore home spun garments, not exactly rough but not of the same quality that the people she'd seen in the Second Class were wearing.
"Behave yourselves up there. And don't be getting lost." The man ordered.
"Now, Jordan. Don't be taking all our fun away." While only one girl spoke, both pouted prettily at him. He was obviously immune to the act because he didn't even crack a smile. Instead, his eyes remained hard hazel gems that glittered at them meaningfully. His hair was a darker shade than his sisters', more brown than auburn. He was obviously older than the two of them and something in his face suggested that he carried the burdens of the world on his shoulders.
"Behave! Don't make me tell you twice. Don't be a nuisance and stay out of the way of the other passengers."
"Of course, Jordan." They said it in unison. They turned to head for the stairs once again.
"Be back before the sun sets! I don't want you to be up there on your own after dark."
"We're not little girls, Jordan!" One of them turned so that she could say it to his face. "We just want to see everything!" Before he could say anymore, they were gone.
Smirking at the whole scene, Rosemary hurried on her way.
~*~
The whole day saw her running back and forth, fetching linens and other items for the cabins she'd been assigned to. She was lucky enough to have been given cabins in the First Class section, which meant fewer cabins to serve and the likelihood of better tips. She'd been surprised to find that she'd been given the cabins of the two American women she'd seen arriving earlier. After the ship had left port and gotten underway, she'd taken the opportunity to go back to her cabins and introduce herself to the women she would be helping over the course of the trip.
The redhead named Haley had been all smiles when she'd returned and introduced herself. And she made Rosemary feel welcome by talking to her as if she weren't a simple maid. The two of them chatted amiably for quite some time, even as Rosemary did her job and helped Haley change from her traveling gown into something more suited to an afternoon spent strolling about the deck of a cruise ship.
After leaving Haley's cabin, she found herself in the cabin of the young couple with the small girl. She introduced herself to man and his wife, learning that she could call the man Victor and his wife was Mrs. Creed. Their maid seemingly hovered close by, as if she wanted to hear every word spoken. Their child, a girl called Deirdre, was barely six months old and even though she could barely feel the ship moving through the water, the young mother claimed softly that she was seasick. It confirmed to Rosemary that there was a second child on the way.
There was an odd feeling coming off of the trio of adults. Though the man's eyes seemed to eat Rosemary alive, he made sure to come across as a doting husband. His big, beefy hands were always touching his young wife in what was meant to appear a gentle manner. But the love he was trying to convey seemed forced and fake. And his wife did nothing to convince her that her belief was wrong.
Mrs. Creed remained silent and almost withdrawn, though she smiled when it was required of her. She seemed to be more interested in her daughter than anything going on around her. Perhaps the child was her whole world. It didn't feel as if there was any real love between the two of them. When he touched his wife, she flinched and tried not to pull away from him. And the maid acted as if it was the young mother who was the third party. Somehow, Rosemary wouldn't at all be surprised to find out that the husband was sleeping with the maid. And anyone else he could get to climb into bed with him, no doubt.
The baby fussed, squirming in her mother's arms. Much to Rosemary's dismay, the husband tossed a foul look toward them. With a quiet "Excuse me," the young mother climbed from the chair she'd been sitting in and headed for the privacy of the suite's sleeping chamber. There was something about the way the young woman moved that immediately set Rosemary on edge. She hurried up and let the man know that she was there to help his wife with anything that the woman might need, then she excused herself and escaped out into the hallway.
The rest of the day was spent hurrying to and fro. She visited with both American women a couple of more times, helping them change into something more appropriate for dinner early in the evening. Neither woman wanted her help in getting ready for bed. Once she made her final rounds and saw to it that everyone had everything they needed, she was free to seek out her own bunk and rest for the night.
As she made her way toward the stairs that would take her to the lower decks, her mind recalled the events from earlier in the day. Stopping in her tracks, she turned to look toward the doors behind her.
She didn't even know his name. He hadn't told her what it was, even though he knew hers. She shouldn't be intrigued by the man. She had no business at all imagining what would happen between them if she was to turn back the way she'd come and knock upon his door. She had no business even considering his proposition. It was scandalous and she was a good girl.
But she couldn't deny that she was attracted to him.
Sighing, Rosemary allowed herself to ponder the queer feeling she'd had earlier. It wasn't something she'd ever felt before. At least, not like that. She'd had queer feelings in the pit of her stomach before, once upon a time when she'd been a young girl and had kissed her first boy. It had been equal parts fear, enjoyment and exhilaration. She'd felt it again when she'd been older, when she'd thought she'd fallen in love with a young man she'd met in the city. She'd come to find out that her emotions weren't what she'd thought them to be, that her reactions had been exaggerated by many different external influences. Earlier today, she'd had that same queer feeling that she'd felt years ago. None of them, though, had been as intense as what she'd felt today. She didn't dare attempt deciphering just what it all meant.
What she was contemplating was considered wrong in the eyes of the church. And Rosemary had always done her best to follow the holy word. Was it worth it, though? Her parents were dead and only an aunt and uncle were left for her. They lived in America, a pair of impetuous young lovers who had eloped when their parents had denied them the right to marry. Surely they'd understand if she slipped and gave herself to a night of passion with a stranger. Wouldn't they?
She really didn't know what she was supposed to do. She couldn't deny that she was attracted to the man. He was brash and beautiful to look upon. And he'd seemed very interested in her. Would it be wrong? Would it be a mistake?
Rosemary cursed at herself silently, then hastily asked God's forgiveness for her sin. She wanted to go knock on his door. She wanted to forget, just for once, that she was the product of a good Catholic upbringing. Her mother had always told her about her dreams for Rosemary, about the beautiful wedding dress she saw her daughter wearing at her wedding and the glorious cathedral that would host the ceremony.
"Faith, Ma. What would you do?" She asked the question softly, head tipped back so that she could look up at the ceiling. There was no answer, not that she'd expected one. And she was no where nearer to making a decision.
A door opened farther up the hall. She saw the blonde that had been with the man earlier. He emerged from the cabin that she knew was near the man's cabin. That decided her. There was no way she was walking up to the man's door and knocking when his friend was watching her. Rosemary dipped into a quick curtsey, then put her feet on the path to her own cabin.
It took her a long, long time to fall asleep. Her mind kept running in circles. When she did finally fall asleep, it was with his face behind her eyes. There was a knowing look on his face and she could plainly hear him calling to her, telling her to come to him.