Mary

“Mary, wake up!”

“It seems I just went to bed, what time is it?”

“Five o clock. It’s a special day; we have to get things ready.”

I grunted as I got up, washed my face, re-braided my hair and put on my uniform. It was Lady Emma’s eighteenth birthday. I had yet to put the finishing touches on her gown for the evenings’ festivities, alas, my help was needed for meal preparation and decorating. Lady Claire Masterson kept changing her mind about the waistline; I finally convinced her that empire was the way to go, a design more flattering to daughter Lady Emma’s voluptuous figure; it was what Emma wanted initially. The dress stood fastened on the mannequin next to my bed; I would get it done, somehow. Aunt Elizabeth was in charge of housekeeping at the Mastersons’ Manor for just over twenty years. She took me in after consumption claimed my mother, I was only seven. I began officially working for them at age twelve. Mother was an educated woman who was a seamstress by trade. Her dream of having a dress shop was passed on to me; however, with my lot in life, I seemed fated to be a servant girl. Still, I kept sewing. Lady Masterson discovered my skills; thus, I became her exclusive, uncompensated designer. She took pride in having original, elaborate gowns not found in any of the popular dress shops around town. I kept the remnants of the beautiful fabrics she purchased and managed to make two dresses for myself in what little spare time I had, hoping to wear them to a ball someday.

Lady Emma’s parents presented her with a gift after tea time.

“What’s this?” she sniffed.

“It’s a first-class boarding pass on the luxury ship Titanic. You can spend a few months with your cousin Virginia in New York,” replied Lord Masterson.

“But, it’s dreadful in America!” shrieked Lady Emma.

“Not where Ginny lives. They live in a nice house out in the country. They have stables, you’ll get plenty of exercise and they take the train into the city to watch the shows. You will love it there,” reassured Lady Masterson.

“Why are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Dearest, we thought a change of scenery might do you good,” answered Lord Masterson.

I quietly continued clearing the dishes. Upon reaching for Lord Masterson’s saucer, he grabbed my wrist and stroked the underside with his thumb, “Say, you wouldn’t happen to have any more of those petit fours, would you?” he inquired, with a leer.

“I-I’ll check, my Lord,” I answered, drawing my hand back, then nervously skittered towards the kitchen.

“The Lord wants more petit fours,” I said to Aunt Elizabeth, who was readying the Wellington for the evening meal.

“Here are the last four. It seems the Lord has taken a fancy to you. Make sure you’re never alone with him.”

“Yes ma’am.”

‘***

Lady Emma’s birthday ball was a success. She looked quite resplendent in her dainty yellow chiffon gown, which complimented her cascading chocolate brown curls. Her complexion seemed ruddier than usual, no matter how much powder we used to offset; we attributed it to nerves. I had hoped she’d develop more confidence after this. She wasn’t beautiful by conventional standards; at times, she could be overbearing, melodramatic and whiny. However, Lady Emma was truly a beautiful, compassionate soul. She enjoyed every minute of being in the limelight during her birthday ball: dancing, laughing, attracting suitors; one in particular struck her fancy.

The next day, Lady Emma was feverish and wouldn’t get out of bed. Aunt Elizabeth sent me to fetch the doctor who informed us that Emma was afflicted with the measles. Good thing I had already had it as a younger child. I went into to check on her.

“Good morning, how are you feeling?”

“Ugh, just ghastly. Can’t you see, you little twit? I’m all red!”

“Yeah, like a raspberry. I must say, you looked positively radiant at your party.”

“Didn’t I though? Did you see Jonathan Featherstone?”

“I did. He seemed quite smitten. You make a handsome pair.”

She giggled. Lady Emma was besotted. Even the measles couldn’t dampen her happiness.

“Come, Mary, sit.” She patted the space next to her. “Do you remember when you first came here?”

“Do I? Aunt Elizabeth introduced us and instructed me to curtsy to you; then you licked your tongue out at me.”

“And you smacked me across my face and called me insolent. I had to look it up in the dictionary!"

We laughed; Lady Emma’s laughter was punctuated by coughs. I poured her a glass of water from the pitcher on her nightstand and helped her drink.

“Aunt Elizabeth sent me to bed without supper for that,” I responded.

“And she made me extra lemon crumpets so I wouldn’t tell Mother what you’d done. She needn’t have worried; I knew we would be friends. Things were so much better when you came here. I wasn’t lonely anymore, we played games, you helped me with school--"

“You mean, I did your schoolwork for you.”

“Only when it was hard. I never fancied reading or math before. Thanks to you, I know enough math to get by and I enjoy reading. I may not know as much as you, but I’m no simpleton. Still, it doesn’t seem fair.”

“How do you mean?” I asked.

“According to Mother and Father, I only have to be pretty enough to attract and marry a rich aristocrat and keep all the money and titles in our families; I don’t have to be smart. You on the other hand—”

“Now wait a minute--”

“Remember when we were girls? You asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up and I said I wanted to be a princess. You made me a gown out of a gunny sack; it was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever done for me. I am going to give you the chance to realize your dreams.” She handed me an envelope; I opened it to see the First-Class Boarding Pass on RMS Titanic, with Lady Emma Masterson’s name written across the top. My mouth fell open with surprise.

“I can’t.”

“You can and you will. The ship leaves tomorrow.”

“But what about your cousin?”

“That spoiled prig? I can't stand her!”

“Takes one to know one,” I muttered under my breath. Emma punched my shoulder.

“The ticket will go to waste otherwise. If you stay here, you will be doomed to a life of servanthood. And, I see how Father looks at you. Leave while you can or you’ll end up like those other misfortunate souls whose lives he ruined.”

“It’s also dishonest.”

“I think the proper response is ‘You’re welcome, Lady Emma, patron of good taste and high fashion.’”

“And don’t forget humility.”

She took my hands, “And when you do open your shop, I will be your first customer. You have to design my wedding gown.”

“For a price.”

"I will gladly pay."

'***

Southampton wasn’t quite as big as London, but it was definitely bustling with activity, especially since RMS Titanic was docked, awaiting the bulk of her passengers on her maiden voyage. I would have to assume Lady Emma's identity, since her name was on the ticket. We look nothing alike, my hair is frizzy and red; my complexion freckled. The weather was cool that day, I wore an old fur trimmed coat that was once Emma’s; even had her name sewn in the neck of it. It was a little big on me. James, the coachman, dropped me off a quarter mile away from the docks, the walk wasn’t so bad, even with the two bags I toted. Finally, the ship came into view. It was gargantuan, with four smoke stacks. Supplies and people were loading simultaneously, it was quite noisy and hectic. I showed the boarding pass and gained entry without incident. The cabin was fully furnished and spacious: it had a full-sized bed, a reading area, a restroom. I unpacked my carpetbag and hung my four outfits in the spacious closet, then unpacked my books. My sewing supplies remained in the closet. Finally, I would have enough leisure time to read. I overheard someone in the crew say the ship was headed to France, then Ireland, and onto her final destination, New York.

The bookmark fell out of Sense and Sensibility. It was actually a slip of paper containing the name and address of a friend of Aunt Elizabeth’s who resided in Manhattan: Catherine Smith. Aunt Elizabeth assured me that if I looked up her friend, she would take me in. This ruse of being Lady Emma wasn’t exactly sitting too well with me; I figured it best to keep to myself and stay in seclusion. However, cabin fever set in after three days of self-imposed exile; I longed to explore. The Titanic was grand, beautiful and magical, like a floating grand palace with all the amenities; it seemed as if nothing terrible could happen here. Everyone seemed happy and in good spirits. The food was stupendous: baked apples and oatmeal for breakfast, consommé, lobster for lunch, prime rib and jacketed potatoes for dinner and ice cream. I had ice cream before, but the Titanic's ice cream seemed creamier, sweeter. Later that night, I donned one of my ball gowns, then ventured out to the grand ballroom; drawn in by the euphonious sound of the orchestra, mesmerized by the couples’ dancing; glittering, beautiful people having a lovely time. As I turned to leave, I accidentally bumped into a most handsome young gentleman with dark hair and pale blue eyes.

“Oh, forgive me sir, I’m so sorry.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. I came over to ask if you would dance with me.”

“I’m not a good dancer.”

“I’m not so great either, but I promise not to step on your feet,” he replied, holding his hand up as if he were taking an oath.

“I wished I could say the same.”

He laughed as he took my hand. We danced the night away, waltz, foxtrot and even a lively Irish jig. I could not remember when I had so much fun. Afterwards, we walked out on the upper deck to get some air. It was a clear night, the stars seemed within reach.

“Oh, the stars look so beautiful! I can see the North Star and Ursa Major. Say, where are my manners? I haven’t even introduced myself. Hello, I am Lady Emma Masterson.”

“Pleased to meet your acquaintance; my name is Malcolm McClintock.”

“Pleased to meet you, Malcolm. Where are you from?”

“I was living in London, but originally from Scotland, Glasgow to be exact. I worked with Lloyd’s. I heard New York offers more opportunities for young ambitious men; women, too, I suppose.”

“Not like in England where all the advantages seem to go to the aristocrats.”

“Precisely. Say, are you cold?”

“A little.”

He promptly took off his jacket and placed it on my shoulders. Immediately, I felt warmer.

“Now you’ll be cold,” I responded.

“I feel better knowing you’re warm.”

“You’re sweet, thank you. I guess I’d better call it a night.”

“You mean morning, don’t you?”

“Wow, it’s that late?”

“I suppose time flies when you’re having fun.”

“I suppose.”

“May I walk you to your cabin?”

“You may.”

‘***

I felt brave enough to have breakfast in the dining hall the next morning. The meal of buckwheat pancakes and sausages was most satisfying. I hoped to see Malcolm again. I picked up my book and began reading.

“Hello, may I join you?” An older lady stood before me. I could tell that she was American by her speech. Her clothes looked expensive, well-tailored; a wide brimmed flowered hat sat atop her head.

“Of course,” I motioned to the empty chair across from me.

“I noticed you’re traveling alone, as am I. My name is Margaret.”

“Pleased to meet your acquaintance, I’m Emma.”

“Did you board from Cobh?”

“No, from Southampton.”

“I got on from Cherbourg.”

“What’s it like in France?”

“It has a lot of churches, castles, charming cafes and salons; I recommend everyone visit at least once.”

“I hope to go there, someday. Are you American?”

“Born and raised. I live in Denver, Colorado.”

“Is it close to New York?”

“No. It's farther west."

Just then, Malcolm spied us, then came over.

“Good morning, Malcolm. I’d like you to meet Margaret.”

“Pleased to meet your acquaintance, Miss Margaret.”

“Oh, heavens no, it’s just Margaret. Better yet, you can both call me Molly. No need to be so formal.”

We enjoyed spending time with Molly. She seemed to know most of the first-class passengers and shared gossip about them over tea. She told great stories as we played card games in her room which was much grander than mine.

Malcolm and I made plans for dinner; we invited our new friend, but she opted to turn in early for the night. After dinner we went dancing and onto the open deck to look up at the stars once more. The skies were foggy tonight. My conscience began to weigh heavy on me.

“Malcolm, I have a confession to make. My name is Mary, not Lady Emma. I’m only a servant girl.”

“I, too, must confess. I worked at Lloyds, but not handling accounts. More like a servant, too.”

“Your hands gave you away.”

“As did yours.”

We laughed. He held my hands in his; his hands were calloused, not soft like Lord Mastersons'.

“May I kiss you, Mary?”

I nodded and closed my eyes as his face moved closer to mine. His lips were warm, soft. Suddenly, it felt as if the earth moved, a jolt of sorts; then there was a groaning, grinding sound muffled by water.

“What was that?” I whispered.

“You felt it, too?” he answered in a whisper.

“Aye, the ship has hit an iceberg!” one of the crew yelled.

“But, this ship is unsinkable!” another passenger exclaimed.

“It should hold. No need to worry. Everyone, go back inside; enjoy yourselves.”

The enjoyment was short lived. Within the hour, we were instructed to wear our life preservers. Molly and Malcolm helped the crew load women and children onto life boats, then Malcolm put us on the last boat.

“Help’s going to arrive. Don’t worry, I’ll see you soon,” assured Malcolm as he squeezed my hands.

“Goodbye, Malcolm. Be safe," I implored, as we embraced.

Tears filled my eyes as he waved from the sinking deck, the thought of never seeing him again was more than I could bear. Molly furiously tried to convince the crewman to steer our lifeboat back to get other survivors since our boat was less than halfway full, he commanded her to be quiet. We watched in horror as the ship slowly began its descent into the icy abyss, hearing screams and the musicians playing, "Nearer My God to Thee," then, eerie silence. Molly held me as I sobbed uncontrollably.

RMS Carpathia rescued us and the other lifeboat refugees within hours after the Titanic sank. I couldn’t really remember much being on there, I was in a state of shock. I do remember Molly taking charge making sure survivors had all they needed and trying to keep everyone’s spirits up. Never mind that she was also concerned about her sick grandchild; which was the main reason she boarded the Titanic in the first place, to go to see about him. It was surreal, a ship nicknamed “Unsinkable” sank, Malcolm and so many others were lost at sea; it was not making sense. There were rumors of other survivors who floated on pieces of furniture who were picked up by another ship. On the evening of April eighteenth, The Carpathia docked at New York City, the weather cold and drizzly. Thankfully, Catherine Smith was there waiting. She greeted me with a hug.

“You poor thing! Your aunt has been worried sick about you, as have I. I will send a wire letting her know you’re safe and sound.”

I looked for Molly, wanting to say goodbye, but she was nowhere to be found.

‘***

“It's such an odd name for a dress shop. You won’t get any customers!” exclaimed Aunt Elizabeth.

“Well, I happen to think Gunny Sacks is a good name, in an ironic sort of way. Say, maybe you should change up the spelling a bit so that it attracts the hoity-toity,” suggested Lady Emma, not standing quite still, wearing her unfinished wedding gown.

“Stop wiggling or I’ll stick you again,” I threatened, trying to adjust the lace of the bodice with pins.

“You already treat me like a human pincushion,” she retorted. “Who’s going to sew your wedding gown?”

“I am, of course. I’ve already sketched it. Mine will be much grander than yours,” I teased.

“You’re not fooling me, Mary; I know you prefer simpler dresses. Say, will Molly have time to join us for dinner before her show?"

“Yes, Malcolm’s picking her up from the station at three.”

Note:

I took some dramatic license in creating this story. My apologies to the families of Jessica McClintock and Margaret “Molly” Brown.