The First and Last Voyage

The Now:

The excitement at the quayside was muted by the fact that for some there was also sadness. It was exciting to be embarking upon this new, wonderful vessel, but for some, it was one of mixed feelings. Who knew when they might see one another again? Tears mixed with laughter. Grandmothers hugged grandchildren that they may never hold again, whereas affluent families travelling en masse were affronted by the show of affection and sadness. Dowagers and matriarchs were not at all sympathetic to the emotional ‘exhibitions’ of those less ‘worthy’ around them. They would have preferred that the riff raff keep a tighter grip on their unseemly ‘theatricals’ – or not be there at all.

Once aboard, of course, it would be better. Those with enough financial clout had been assured that the facilities and the décor aboard were magnificent. There would be sufficient possibility to detach themselves from ‘below decks’ in the same way that they were able to detach themselves from ‘below stairs’ at home. The correct ‘order’ would once again be preserved, People would return to their more natural status and place in life.

Cornelia could not build any enthusiasm for the trip. She kept being told by her grandmother that this was ‘a wonderful adventure’ and ‘wasn’t she a lucky young lady to be embarking on the maiden voyage of this state-of-the-art floating palace – a majestic and awe-inspiring vessel’. Cornelia understood that her hard-as-nails, life-embittered grandmother was not impressed by her inability to rise above their current ‘difficulties’ and ‘hardships’. One absolutely never exhibited one’s emotions or true feelings in public. Even if they were as poor as church mice since her son, Cornelia’s father, Sidney, had lost all their family monies, and had fled to South Africa. He had left the rest of them to face the music – as best they could. Not a situation that this grandma’am took with equanimity, but there was no need to give the hoi polloi the satisfaction of seeing them reduced to a common display of emotion. She was as unimpressed by his cowardice as his financial stupidity and was keen to demonstrate to the world – a world of lesser mortals – how ‘the aristocracy’ dealt with ‘set-backs’ and downturns in fortune. She was embarking on a ‘salvage plan’. She had – by luck not fortitude – retained an asset until then ‘superfluous to requirements’. A property nest egg in the United States.

The Then:

Jocelyn had been born in the United States, the daughter of a father financially rich, but forever aching for something more. He wanted to be not only ‘rich’ but also he wanted something more. John Brownlee had been born in America to an English father and a Scottish mother. He had made a great deal of money originally from prospecting and then from investing in land and property, showing considerable flair for business and commerce. Money was never enough for John and having listened to his father and mother’s stories of life back in the United Kingdom – which had probably been viewed through rose-coloured spectacles - he had fixed it firmly in his head that one needed status. The truly ‘rich’ people were aristocrats. They had more than money. They had respect and kudos. That was what he wanted for his family. For his heirs.

On a business trip to London, John Brownlee had been introduced to a friend of a friend, Percival Lloyd-Browne, who would be the Duke of Bashford, when his father, Algernon, died. John had immediately seen the future! He would in one fell swoop, ensure the future prospects of his daughter, and ally himself with ‘the aristocracy’. He had meant well. He had for years considered his singular aim in life (since his family’s financial future was assured) was to gain for them an ‘entree’ into society. He would see his daughter’s future safe. Enhanced by the right marriage.

Jocelyn had not been actually ‘forced’ into this alliance – well not entirely. She had rather liked the idea of eventually being ‘Lady Carleton’, and she certainly thought that the kind of life that she had read about in books – in fashionable London, with English ‘Society’ - would suit her very well. She was not ‘romantic’ by nature but was fond of her comforts and the pleasures that money provided for her. To add a title, and a fashionable London address would be ‘exciting’, ‘the icing on the cake’. A poke in the eye for her New York contemporaries! Unfortunately, she had not factored in the disadvantages of marriage to a man, who spent much of his time ‘elsewhere’ boasting about his young, beautiful, American wife, but never actually spending much time with her. She remained alone in a house full of servants who were unimpressed by her ‘gaucheness’, her ‘lack of sophistication’, her ‘ignorance’ of the requirements of a London household. She was unused to the London snobbish ‘formality’ and ‘decorum’. It was a rude awakening for the young Jocelyn who discovered that a house in the centre of fashionable London – but without friends and without ‘Daddy’ to respond to her every whim – was nothing like she had imagined.

Two years after the nuptials, suddenly within the space of eleven months, both her father in law, Lord Algernon and her mother in law, Dorothea, had died. Dorothea, who was prone to poor health anyway, died apparently from a bee sting, which knocked her from her horse, whilst riding on Rotten Row with her Jocelyn. She was 49. Algernon did not long outlast her. He too died - apparently peacefully in his sleep - under a year later. He had led an over-indulged lifestyle - rich foods, alcohol. Nobody was surprised. After all, 68 was a pretty good innings. So within a short space of time, the stable household, which had been ruled with authority, but calmly, by Dorothea, was now left to the not-so-tender mercies of ‘the young upstart’, the colonial’. Percival had inherited the title - but also the responsibility. He rather liked the former, but was not much interested in the latter.

The household were additionally shocked when the customary period of mourning was drastically shortened, and the new Lady of the Manor cast off her ‘depressing’ clothing and decided that they should ‘live again’. Despite the fact that Percival was still well and truly alive, Jocelyn was frequently seen on the arm of many young bucks – all handsome, all fun, some penniless, all entirely unsuitable escorts for the still very much married Duchess of Bashford. Jocelyn’s philosophy was that what was good for the goose was perfectly fine for the gander, and if Percy was off spending all their money, ‘entertaining’ himself as he chose, was she supposed to just remain at home doing her embroidery! She had not been brought up to that kind of ‘obedience’ or ‘domesticity’. She was too young to be sitting at home tatting, or playing the piano endlessly! All of this thoroughly outraged her household – not to mention society in general – but she revelled in her fame - others would, of course, say, her infamy.

She gave luck a helping hand again and before her 23rd birthday, Percival was dead. The cause of his death was somewhat bizarre since he had ‘fallen’ from their bedroom balcony which overlooked the garden of their fashionable Mayfair home. By accident or design was never established. According to his wife “He was there one minute, gone the next!” Nobody in the household was brave enough to mention the word …. Suicide …. apart from Jocelyn, of course, who was very forthcoming in her explanation. He had been ‘crossed in love’ and as a ‘hopeless romantic’ he could not bear the rejection. The household, and Society in general, hearing this ‘explanation’ were somewhat silenced because within ‘nice households’ one does not speak about such things. Yes, it was very likely that Percy had a lover - several lovers probably - but (a) that he would kill himself because of rejection by one was ludicrous; and (b) even if that were the case, one does not advertise those things for public consumption. Not in front of the servants, let alone in front of the rest of society in London! What was she thinking of! Had the woman learned nothing from her now several years in civilised society!

Now a widow! Despite being the butt of gossip from all sides, since she was, after all, a Duchess, people were still more than civil to her face, and though she knew of the talk behind her back, she cared little for that, since she knew that none of them would openly shun her because she outranked most of them and that was what counted the most.

After a while, she decided that she had drunk her fill of frivolity, and it was time to look to the future. She would settle down. Perhaps even children? She remarried – another Duke – Henry, Lord Normanton, Duke of Southcott. They had only one son, Sidney. The marriage was fairly happy – they kept their distance for much of the time, but were amiable and civilised with each other when together, and respectful of appearances and sensibilities when apart. Henry died peacefully, and lamented (well, as lamented as his widow had the capacity to lament) when he was 62. Their son, Sidney, inherited the title and the control of the estate and with the encouragement of his mother, married well. Miranda was 21, a debutante and the daughter of Sir George Pickering. Not a beauty, but an appropriate match - lower ranked than themselves, but adequate. Also importantly, ironically from Jocelyn’s point of view given her own past, unlikely to cause a scandal. Jocelyn knew only too well that Sidney was well able to do that himself, without his wife adding to the family’s burden. Sidney was wild - a complete roue and spendthrift. A gambler, a womaniser and always in danger of riling the ‘wrong’ people - people within the gambling - even criminal world - who took no prisoners and who cared not a jot for his antecedents or his contacts. Their contacts were inevitably more deadly than his. He was a permanent trial to his otherwise formidable mother. Jocelyn was feared - had always been feared almost from her arrival in the country - by staff and those associated with the family - Indeed to some extent also by the family itself. This had been put down to the fact that she was young, brash, and American. She had not been brought up around the behaviour expected of a member of the English aristocracy. But even Jocelyn realised that her wrath and sabre rattling would be no match for those enemies that her son was only too easily cultivating. Jocelyn hoped, therefore, that marriage and a suitable and steadying wife would be a good influence. Miranda seemed a quiet, well-behaved and biddable girl, but her new mother in law did not expect a complete remedy. Which was just as well because this did not happen,

The couple had only been married for just over a year when Miranda died giving birth to their only child, Cornelia. Despite his wild and brash nature, Sidney seemed to be genuinely distraught by his wife’s death and for a while he seemed to go into his shell and miraculously settled down. Jocelyn hoped this was her son turning over a new leaf, but never allowed herself to truly believe it. And she was right. After a while, he was wilder than ever. He became well and truly uncontrollable as though he now had no reason to be careful, sober or restrained. He had no rudder, and his natural tendency to gamble, drink and take risks came to the fore, once again with a vengeance. Jocelyn was both devastated and irate. Those around them - including those servants who had lasted the course of time - were amused that she should be so displeased. He was, after all, just her son. Had she been a man, she too would probably have blown the family fortune a long time before and had been in her way just as profligate and unconcerned for decorum or restraint as he was. None of that, of course, entered Joceylyn’s head. The past to her needed to be a closed door. She dared not look back. But she was afraid to look forward. She had taken risks in the past and done things that were rash - unwise - certainly wicked. As she moved inextricably towards death, the day of reckoning already caused her sleepless nights. She tried hard not to dwell on the past. Always to look forward. Never back. Back was where the nightmares turned into reality.

She hoped perhaps that the past had taken their revenge now. She was virtually penniless. She was having to return to a past life - a life that she had left so many years ago that was now and would probably remain quite alien to her. She did not know anybody now left in America. Some were, apparently, relatives. But strangers nonetheless. Maybe this was her come-uppence! If that were all, then she did not welcome it, but she would be relieved just the same.

The Now - Part 2

So here they were about to set sail. Jocelyn - a woman as far removed as could be imagined from the bright eyed and callow young American that had landed so many years ago - and her granddaughter who had never left her native city, let alone her native country. With so many others - their equals and their inferiors - they all prepared to join the magnificent floating hotel. A floating Savoy no less! A state of the art passenger liner; the wonder of the modern world. A marvel that consumed so many pages of the newspapers. Unsinkable, magnificent, fabulous. No adjective was too grand for this demonstration of what Man could do and how Man could arm himself to defy the elements and God’s plan. Its conception, and even more its construction, had been the subject of much pride - but even more controversy. But all that was now apparently forgiven and forgotten with the excitement of its maiden voyage. Now the uncomfortable banner ‘Down with Pope and Popery” which had emblazoned the ship on its delivery voyage from the unsettled British governed territory in the north of Ireland to the United Kingdom had been removed. No need to further advertise the great divide in Belfast, its place of construction, between the haves and the have nots. All traces of such an acrimonious and problematic build had been hidden … obliterated. . All was now pristine and only the joyous and congratulatory was on show. So unless the Almighty was preparing to take sides and punish the wrong-doer, the trials and tribulations surrounding the ship’s construction were in the past and it was hoped that the delivery from the shipbuilder’s yard to the Liverpool quay had drawn a line under the past and started the new chapter - a better chapter - for the ship, which had been named The Titanic. Appropriate because of its size, its invincibility, and its ability to sail majestically through all that nature could throw at it.

Standing amongst the excited people on the dock preparing to board the palatial and innovative ship was Jocelyn - but a very different Jocelyn from the one who had undertaken the voyage in reverse so many years before. Here she waited - impatiently and pompously - for ‘these men’ to stop idling and dawdling about with inessentials and allow her to escape from the ‘ill-mannered’ and ‘unhygienic’ riff raff and get her and her belongings onto the ship. She was not really sure how she felt about returning ‘home’. Was it still ‘home’? At home she had been plain Jocelyn Brownlee, the daughter of a nobody - yes, a rich nobody, but a nobody just the same. In London she was a Duchess. She was not sure how the republican psyche in the US now responded to such a title. Not well, she thought. Well probably not badly though. She remembered them as mannerly people. Just without due deference. Money was more important in one’s ranking - and currently she had precious little of that!

Well, for good or evil. Back she was going - with Cornelia in tow. Jocelyn was not a ‘people person’, but she understood and acknowledged her ‘duty’. She would do what was best for Cornelia because duty said she must. Affection was not a word that Jocelyn understood - and as for ‘love’? She had neither felt it, nor given it … ever. And it was presumably too late to be afflicted by the disease now!

It seemed to take an inordinately long time to get everybody on board. Of course the well to do - and therefore pushy by habit - travellers were by necessity loaded on first. The hordes of people who had struggled hard to reach this point and finance such a trip - which must by necessity be permanent - a one way ticket to better or worse - waited patiently in line because that was their lot in life. They knew their place in society and could only hope that what they had heard of the new world would be true. They had heard - they hoped - that in America you were what you made yourself. If you were born lowly, and worked hard, you could climb society’s ladder. It was a novel notion - but one that they very much longed to see in action.

Some years previously, Jocelyn had been bequeathed a property by her younger brother. At the time she was merely amused to learn of the bequest. How she had laughed and had dismissed it as a kind of silly sycophantic gesture from a brother who was anxious to stay connected to his ‘Duchess’ sister. She had liked her brother George, but he had only been about six when she was ‘shipped off’ to London. He had written childish letters and drawn her pictures in the early days. Receiving the notification of his death and the bequest, she had found it almost impossible to believe that he had in the meantime grown, married (twice), had two children, and died. Apparently the house was currently ‘tenanted’ by his first wife’s two spinster sisters, but since they had a family home locally - lived in only by their brother and his son - if she chose to live there, or even sell, given due and reasonable notice, they would vacate. Jocelyn had shared with others how amusing she found it that George should think she would wish to return. Turf out his sisters-in-law indeed! She had remembered her manners sufficiently to graciously thank George ’s widow for her kind letter and for the notification of the property. She did not reject it. One could never have too many assets! She had no idea then how important that legacy would be to her.

Jocelyn had not been left anything on the death of her father, who had married for a second time - her mother dying some nine years after her own marriage and move to England. That second marriage resulted in three more children. During the early years, her father had been glad to receive detailed accounts of her servants, her lifestyle, her splendid parties (many exaggerated and merely boastful in truth). He had felt comfortable that he was no longer responsible for her well being on his death.

Now the legacy from George was of the utmost importance. It was the only thing she had in the world - almost apart from the clothes she stood up in. Though - since she had long been one to ‘do what was best for Jocelyn’ - her trunks were obviously not really devoid of jewellery, finery and furs. Indeed quite considerable amounts of each! But those - and the house that she had never seen and which may, for all she knew, still have two decaying spinster ladies creaking about in it - was her entire fortune. Not much, it had to be said, for all her devilry and other people’s sacrifices that had gone before. The saying was that ‘the devil looks after his own’ … well, frankly, Nicholas, thought Jocelyn, I am very disappointed with your protection!

Jocelyn watched with annoyance as Cordelia excitedly made friends with other passengers and despaired at the fact that her attempts to make her a ‘lady’ had failed miserably. The girl, now older than Jocelyn had been when she had married, was still almost child-like in her naivete and zest for life. Everyone was of interest to Cordelia and her grandmother was convinced that she would turn out just like her father. Perhaps not a gambler, but she would certainly be taken in by any sob story or handsome face. Not a cautious brain in her head nor a suspicious bone in her body!

The seas were rough and everybody was thanking their lucky stars that this was the ship that could not sink. It was impervious to the waves, to the weather, to adversity. Jocelyn never ventured on deck, and only sporadically looked out of a porthole window. Cordelia was a bit afraid, but excited, to see the icebergs amid the crashing seas as the ship picked its way across the vast Atlantic Ocean. They had seen the last of the landmasses and were well out of sight of any civilisation. Suddenly standing beside her, Cordelia became aware of an elderly lady who had not been there before. She said nothing at first, but then started a conversation. General at first, but becoming more pointed after a while.

“You are Cordelia, I think?”

She was confused. She was a friendly girl and had never felt the need to be guarded or fearful.

“Yes. I’m sorry … Do I know you? I am hopeless with faces, I fear!”

“No, I am just aware of the family …. Your grandmother would know me though.”

“Oh, do come and see her. She is such a recluse hiding away in there … I keep trying to make her come out and get some air … see the ocean … not lock herself away. …. I fail miserably. Always! Do, do come and see her!”

“No, I don’t think that would be appropriate, Cordelia. You can tell her, however, that you have spoken to Dotty and that she has not forgotten or forgiven the past. Tell her that the time has come. We may all be meeting again very soon.”

Cordelia was intrigued. She could not imagine her grandmother having a ‘past’ that needed ‘forgiving’, but she was quite fierce. She talked very little about the old times though Cordelia knew that she had been married before - that is before her own grandfather. Cordelia did remember her grandfather, Henry. She had been eight when he died, He seemed nice. He and her grandmother sometimes argued, but … Mrs. Caldecot, the cook, had said that ‘he had tamed her’.. Perhaps Grandma was horrible before Grandpa?!

Eventually Cordelia returned to her grandmother’s cabin, and during the course of their (to Jocelyn ‘only just passable’) meal (‘given that this is a state of the art liner!’) Cordelia mentioned the conversation with the elderly lady. Jocelyn choked on her food and the colour drained from her already pale face, well powdered and rouged. The rouge on the pallid skin made it look like a clown’s face.

Jocelyn pulled herself together with difficulty. “Are you sure you got the name right, Cordelia? That seems an odd name for an … you say an elderly? …. Lady.”

“Yes, grandma. I am sure. I was surprised too. It did seem wrong … she did not seem like a Dotty at all!”

“Maybe a lady’s maid or somebody that we employed in the past, eh? I’d keep my distance my dear I think … she is probably after a handout of something …. After money, more than likely.”

“Well don’t you think she’s in the wrong part of the ship to be begging? Surely everybody here must have money, don’t they?”

The irony of that statement did not elude Jocelyn, but neither did it amuse her.

“Who knows! These people get in somehow. She’s probably not old at all …. Just disguised. I forbid you to talk to her again! Do you hear? I forbid it. You have no idea who she is or what she wants.”

Suddenly there were a lot of scrunching noises and the ship seemed to be making heavy weather of moving along a steady line. There seemed at first like an eerie silence, but then loud voices were heard with the crew receiving and giving orders in voices most inappropriate for the sensibilities of the fee paying passengers in their cabins and suites.

“What on earth is going on! Tell those men to keep the noise down….. Cordelia …. Go and tell them to go elsewhere with their gutter language!”

Cordelia went to look out and could only see crew men rushing hither and thither and trying to keep their balance as the ship seemed to be grating along beside an enormous iceberg - only the top of which would be visible above the surface, so it must be a very big structure indeed.

When Cordelia returned - now very alarmed - to her grandmother, she found that she had a visitor. Dotty had somehow entered the cabin, despite the fact that Cordelia had been standing half in and half out of the door, thus blocking anybody’s way.

Her grandmother was trying to be her brusque and dictatorial self, but it was obvious from her pallor and the fear in her voice that she was failing miserably.

“Your time has come, Jo-Jo. It’s time you faced up to the decisions you have made. There are several people very anxious to meet you - not necessarily to thank you, but certainly to welcome you to your future. Your fate, if you like.”

“Get out! I insist! Get out! Or I will have you thrown out …..!

“Oh my dear! Have you not realised? This ship is doomed. All on board will be doomed. I came especially to bring you. There is much that people want - need - to say to you!”

Cordelia was mesmerised. Who was this old lady that her formidable grandmother seemed so scared of?

With that, the ship seemed to be tilting and it was almost impossible to stay upright. There were cries from all around that people should try to get to lifeboats - women and children first! Women and Children First! …. A man - middle aged - appeared from nowhere, and casting a look at Jocelyn which turned her face to horror, he grabbed Cordelia and dragged her towards the edge of the boat. Later she had no recollection of anything that happened within the next several minutes, but found herself seated in a lifeboat surrounded by frightened and crying women and children, and watching men fighting one another to try to get on board with others fighting them off lest they overturn the boats. Others were jumping into the waves whilst others climbed up as high as they could go in the hope that it would be high enough to save them. After all this ship was unsinkable, so it may be listing, it may be floundering, it may be fighting with the worst that Mother Nature can throw at it, but it cannot sink. Everybody knew it could not sink. It was The Titanic. It was unsinkable.

She never saw her grandmother again. Some several years later, her father, having been sobered by his own trials and tribulations, and with a fair amount of good luck that had come from somewhere, had made a fortune from diamonds in South Africa. He had sailed to America to be reunited with his daughter, who was living alone with a single maid, in the house that her mother had inherited - now without the spinster sisters who had both died, but who had looked after her very well, a child on her own in a strange land.

He had brought with him the family photograph albums that had somehow miraculously been saved for him through the good offices of kind friends when the family assets were seized by creditors. Looking through these together, Cordelia was astonished to see a picture of a younger, but clearly identifiable ‘Dotty’ smiling in the centre of a photograph with her grandmother, a middle aged man, and another elderly man. Underneath it said ‘With Dotty, Algae and Percy on the beach’.

She had seen the middle aged man before too. He had dragged her out of the cabin and somehow engineered her presence in the middle of the lifeboat which saved her.

Who are those people, Pa?

“Oh they are your grandmother’s first in-laws, and your grandma’s first husband. They all died very tragically soon after your grandma got married. That is her mother-in-law Dorothy, she fell from her horse; that is her father-in-law, Algernon, and that is her first husband Percival …. He tragically took a tumble from a balcony.”

Cordelia thought about all that for a while, then said “Pa, how did my grandfather die? Your father?”

Sidney took a deep breath, looked earnestly at his daughter and said ….” Fret not, Cordelia, your grandfather died peacefully in his bed …. When his time had come.”

“And my mother?”

“Just nature, Cora, just nature …”

Cordelia nodded and said “Well that’s a relief anyway!”

THE END