An Unsinkable Love

chapter 1


Thursday, April 11, 1912. Queensland, Ireland Bree stared across choppy water at the mammoth ship.

Did she dare? She glanced over her shoulder, searching for signs of pursuit. It was only a matter of time before they realized she was gone. If she didn't make up her mind quickly she wouldn't have any say in the matter. She took a deep breath and stepped up to the ticket window.

"I'd like a third class ticket." Please, please let it not be too much.

A pimply-faced clerk looked down his long nose at her.

"That'll be seven pounds, miss, and you had better hurry.

They're loadin' the last tender right now."

Seven pounds! It would leave her with next to nothing.

How would she survive in America? "Excuse me. I'll be right back."

"Like I said, you better hurry—White Star don't wait on the likes of us."

Bree stepped away from the window and brushed away tears threatening to overflow. What should she do now? She couldn't go back, wouldn't go back, not ever. But to start out with no money? Bree knew the foolishness of that, but did she have a choice?

She slumped against the wall next to a hedge of large yew trees, her small battered trunk leaning drunkenly against her thigh. There had to be a way. She closed her eyes, laid the 11

An Unsinkable Love

by Terri Benson

tips of her fingers on the warm, gold cross at her neck and prayed, "Please, God. I beg of you, don't make me go back."

A sudden gust rustled the yews and between the branches she saw two men on the other side, arguing. The wind shifted toward her.

"Damnation, Jack. Why'd you let them off the boat?" The speaker, a burly, sunburned, middle-aged man, bent toward the other with a stern expression. He wore a black wool uniform with three rows of gold braid circling the cuffs, and a double row of brass buttons down the front of his hip-length jacket. A visor cap was cupped under his elbow, a word embroidered across the brim in gold thread.

The shorter man, dressed more casually in work pants and a dark Shetland sweater, snapped, "Well, if I'd known they had no intention of coming back, Reggie, I wouldn't have. But Thomas said he'd been told to help Martha carry some fabric, and I didn't see any reason to doubt them."

"Damn it, that leaves us in a tight spot. We can't make six days at sea without at least one competent tailor. Old Thorpe can't do the work anymore. I knew I should have replaced him before we left. These shakedown voyages are always trouble. And the hoity-toities we have on board are bound to make every sort of demand for alterations or last-minute fixes. I'd best start checking with the shops here. Perhaps someone with at least basic skills will be available on short notice. You get back to the tender and see to it no one else jumps ship, or you'll be doing their work and your own besides."

12

An Unsinkable Love

by Terri Benson

"Yes, sir, Mr. Purser, sir," Jack said with a grin, clearly not intimidated by the older man.

Reggie half turned and peered past Bree's hiding place, already searching the cobbled street. With another pat on her cross and the murmured hope she wasn't making a mistake taking the overheard conversation for an answered prayer, she did something she'd never have considered before today.

Bree stepped into the man's path, chin raised, stretching her five feet two inch frame as tall as possible. He nearly ran her down before stumbling to a halt. Bree stuck out her hand.

"Sir, I understand you're looking for a skilled tailor."

Confusion washed over his face then he frowned as it must have dawned on him she couldn't have been aware of his snap decision. "Might be. How did you know?"

Bree dropped her hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't intend to eavesdrop, but I was standing behind the shrubs resting for a moment and happened to hear you mention it."

"Well, and what difference is it to you, young lady?" he asked, eyes narrowed.

"I'd like the job, sir." She struggled to keep the quiver of desperation from her voice.

The man's lips squashed down at the corners and his head tilted. It was an expression she'd seen before. With wild auburn hair cascading in curls down her back and fair skin sprinkled with freckles, she knew she appeared all of about twelve years old.

He pursed his lips and shook his head. "I'm sorry. I need someone experienced. We're far too busy to allow anyone to learn on the job. And our clients are very demanding."

13

An Unsinkable Love

by Terri Benson

"But you see, I am very experienced." Bree quickly turned to her trunk, snapped the latches and pulled out several garments, laying them across the open lid before he could object. "This is my work. I've been seamstress for the Lady Rothberry here for nigh on four years. If you doubt my word, the millinery is up the way a piece and Mrs. O'Malley will most certainly vouch for me. And I'm nearly nineteen, even though I don't look it."

The man regarded her with disbelief, then shook his head and picked up a soft, forest-green woolen cape. He rubbed his fingers over the beaded border, turning a seam out. Bending close, he scrutinized the tiny, neat stitches. He laid the cape down and picked up a crisp white shirtwaist. The buttonholes were exactly matched, heavy lace graced throat and cuffs, and the topstitching ran perfectly straight. Bree knew he wouldn't find any flaws in her work. She'd spent too many nights under her mother's tutelage to make mistakes, and Lady Rothberry hadn't tolerated anything less than perfection.

"The lace is mine as well, but I'm much to slow to make it for anyone but myself."

He peered down at her, taking in the lightweight wool suit she wore, his expression thoughtful. Bree was glad she'd worn her best outfit. It was quite fashionable, pieced from remnants of Lady Rothberry's latest traveling suit. She'd planned to wear something old to avoid soiling her good clothes, but had changed her mind at the last minute.

"What is your name, young lady?"

"Bridget Barry, sir. But everyone calls me Bree."

14

An Unsinkable Love

by Terri Benson

"I'm not a man to make hasty decisions normally, but today I don't have the luxury of mulling it over. I'll give you a chance, Miss Barry. Do not disappoint me."

Bree nodded solemnly, but inside her stomach flip-flopped with excitement.

"I'm Reginald Barton, purser for the White Star Line. I'll take you on as seamstress. You'll be provided with a berth, uniforms, your meals and very little else."

She eyed him sharply and he smiled at his attempt at a jest.

"For the outrageous wage of three pounds, you'll work long hours providing our clients with exemplary service. The cruise lasts six more days. You'll be expected to stay in New York as our employee and make the return trip." He looked at his watch. "We sail in an hour." He pointed at her trunk as she finished repacking and flicked the latches. "It appears you're packed and ready to go?"

Bree couldn't believe her luck. Not only would she sail away from this place, she wouldn't have to spend any of her hard-earned funds to do it. She nodded. "Yes, sir. I have everything I need right here." Not just everything she needed, but everything she owned. She wouldn't tell him that, though. Her thoughts whirled. This was it—a once-in-a-lifetime chance to get away from the near-slavery she'd experienced most of her life. America here I come, praise be to God!

After he glanced at his watch again, Mr. Barton muttered to himself and flagged down an open carriage for hire. He hoisted her trunk into the boot and handed her in. As soon as 15

An Unsinkable Love

by Terri Benson

he settled across from her, he urged the driver to make all speed down the quay toward the White Star dock. As the horse clip-clopped at a good pace over the jarring cobblestones, Mr. Barton inquired, "Are you from Queensland? You don't have much of a brogue."

"Yes, sir, I am. But my mother and I worked up at the manor, and Lady Rothberry didn't like Irish accents. She said it made us sound coarse and stupid. We needed the work."

Bree shrugged. "There was a tutor at the manor until we learned to speak 'proper' English."

"What brought you to the wharf today?"

"Well, you see, I intended to purchase a ticket for the ship when I overheard you."

"I suppose I've done White Star out of a few pounds then."

He smiled and Bree allowed her shoulders to relax. He wasn't going to change his mind.

They arrived barely in time to catch the paddle-wheeled tender America on its last run. Mr. Barton set her trunk down on deck and moved off to the tender's bridge to speak with the same man she'd seen him talking to on shore.

Alone on deck, Bree looked around nervously, unable to shake the fear her brothers or the Rothberrys would catch her at the last minute and drag her off. The tender gave a shrill whistle and pulled away from the dock at a snail's pace.

"Hurry, oh please, hurry," she whispered as she grasped the railing in a white-knuckled grip. No angry shouts rang out. No boots ran thudding down the dock. In a few moments she would be free. She would be on the most magnificent ship on the ocean, and it would be too late to stop her.

16

An Unsinkable Love

by Terri Benson

Once on board, she'd be beyond her family's reach. Now that mother was gone, she was absolved of any allegiance to the rest. Bree felt a sense of sadness, knowing her father and brothers wouldn't miss her nearly as much as her hard-earned wages they quickly spent at the pub. She inhaled the salty air and brightened a bit at the thought of never having to duck another backhand blow from her father, or clean up after her slovenly brothers, or beg the grocer to give her a piece of nearly turned meat at a discount so none would go hungry.

The demanding Lady Rothberry and her husband, who had recently started making unseemly demands of his own, would be easily forgotten. She'd never again have to beg Mrs.

O'Malley to take back fabric her ladyship decided wasn't to her liking. She wouldn't be shut up in the drafty sewing room at the castle for days at a time either. The Rothberrys would search high and low for a new seamstress willing to put up with their calculated cruelty.

"How long will they all wonder what became of me?" she murmured. Her shoulders slumped as she realized they might not even care.

Bree stared up at the ship, its massive dark side filling her vision. Sunlight winked off hundreds of round windows dotting the ship's flank. Which would she be looking out? Her hand crept back to the cross at her neck. Dear God. The Titanic!

This grand ship would be her home for the next several days.

All the city of Queensland, and probably all of Ireland, was chattering about how lucky they were to be one of only two 17

An Unsinkable Love

by Terri Benson

stops between Southampton and New York—and now she, herself, would be part of the maiden voyage.

She craned her neck as she surveyed the highest decks.

Four immense smokestacks angled back, giving an impression the ship moved at high speed, even though it sat at anchor.

Two tall masts bracketed each end of the long, dark hull—the upper superstructure bright white. The bow appeared knife-sharp from a distance and the delicately curved stern, which the newspapers called a "champagne glass" shape, almost seemed out of place.

She jumped as a crate dropped heavily to the deck behind her. Whirling around, she gaped in awe at the huge mountains of trunks and bags piled on almost every square foot of the tender. The deckhand sidled up, greedily eyeing her body. Bree drew back and said, "Excuse me, what are all those bags for?" in an attempt to distract him.

"Oi, thems mailbags, ducky. Hun'erds of 'em."

Bree stepped back as his pungent scent—unwashed body mingled with old fish and cabbage—wafted toward her. He followed, gap-toothed mouth leering, a dribble of black juice trailing down his stubbled chin. She peered uneasily around his tightly stretched wool jersey to see what had become of Mr. Barton, but he was nowhere in sight.

"I'll let you get back to work. I wouldn't want you to get into trouble, since the purser is on board. I'm sure Mr. Barton would want to see everyone working hard." Bree inched away a few more steps.

The deckhand glanced cautiously over his shoulder and grunted. He sent a stream of tobacco juice squirting through 18

An Unsinkable Love

by Terri Benson

the air toward the railing, wiped his chin on a grungy sleeve and sauntered off.

Bree sighed in relief and turned her gaze beyond the trail of foaming water. She surveyed Queensland from a different perspective than ever before. Her father was afraid of the sea, and refused to allow his family to set foot on a boat, let alone sail out into the cobh. Of course, he'd rarely let Bree or her mother outside the cottage except to go to work at the Rothberrys, unless he was along.

The town really was very pretty, stair-stepping up the hillside in terraces, golden stone kissed by the soft glow of sun through a faint foggy haze. The ancient buildings showed their age, but in a dignified way, like an old dowager who still carried herself well.

She tried to fix the sight in her mind, not knowing if she'd ever see it again, not willing to admit she might miss it someday. So much more of the world remained to been seen, starting with the fabled city of New York, then on to the whole grand continent of America. Bree couldn't help the smile that fair split her face. She turned and looped her arm around a support post, watching as they drew in under the shadow of the big liner. How tall it was! And how on earth would she get on it? Her question was answered only a few moments later when the tender tied up next to a nearly identical one and a gangplank ran out from one boat to the next. Several more gangplanks led from there into the liner, including covered ones angling steeply to upper decks. High above, ship's officers scrutinized paperwork and doctors briefly inspected the eyes of each passenger as they queued on small landings.

19

An Unsinkable Love

by Terri Benson

Closer by, another ramp led to a low, wide opening in the side of the Titanic, a scant dozen feet above water level. Mr.

Barton appeared at her side and gathered her trunk, steering her across the gangplanks toward the lower opening.

There was a commotion before they stepped inside. Bree gasped as she observed three men awkwardly climbing a rope dangling off the ship. Below, sailors in a dinghy tried to shake them off. A group of drunken Irishmen hung over the railing and shouted encouragement in Gaelic. Without warning, the man highest on the rope slipped, hit the others and knocked them off as he fell. It happened so fast she didn't have time to scream.

Mr. Barton tapped her shoulder. "They'll be all right." Even as he spoke, sailors fished the soggy men out of the water and pulled them into the dinghy. The purser urged her on gently, giving her a steady arm as they crossed into the bowels of the ship.

It was noisy inside the corridor. Workers scurried every which direction like ants, trunks and bags slung over their shoulders. Dollies loaded with cartons and cases trundled across the polished wooden floor. Thuds, crashes, curses and shouts echoed the hallways. Corridors led off at regular intervals as they walked farther into the ship. Several times, they were forced to flatten against the cold metal wall and allow a dolly loaded with more supplies or trunks to pass.

Small electric lights spaced along the ceiling gave off a feeble glow after the bright sunshine and it took a while for Bree's eyes to adjust.

20

An Unsinkable Love

by Terri Benson

Her guide turned left and right seemingly at random and they went up unmarked flights of stairs. A sudden flicker of fear nibbled at her confidence. What if she got lost and no one found her? It was silly, of course, but her life had taken such an incredible turn and she felt off balance. After she'd completely lost track of direction, Mr. Barton stopped in front of a narrow, blank wooden door, flanked by others equally nondescript.

The purser nodded at the doorway. "This is your cabin.

You'll share it with a stewardess from second-class. The tailoring department is on F Deck. That's one deck below. Ask any steward you see and they can direct you. You'll need to report to your station as soon as we depart, so get your things put away." He set the trunk down and put out his hand. She shook it, embarrassed, knowing her palm was sweaty.

"Thank you, Mr. Barton."

He inclined his head slightly then headed down the hall before she could say more.

The shiny metal knob turned with a faint squeak. She stepped over a low sill and hoped she wouldn't trip over it every time she went through. Bree inspected her new lodgings. The room was even smaller than her bedroom at the castle, and didn't contain even one of the round windows.

A set of bunk beds nearly filled the wall across from the door.

A built-in wardrobe occupied the space on her right and to the left, a small sink and a table with two wooden chairs. A single light gave off the same wan glow as those in the corridors.

The metal frame shielding the bulb cast a web of shadows.

21

An Unsinkable Love

by Terri Benson

She stepped to the wardrobe, her heels echoing against the bare paneled walls, and opened the double doors. One side of the upper hanging section was packed with a jumble of dresses, the lower shelves stuffed with other pieces of clothing. Bree carefully placed her few belongings on the remaining wooden hangers and shelves.

As she slid her empty trunk under the lower bunk next to another battered case, the door squeaked open. She turned as a plump young woman in dark dress and white apron stepped in.

The newcomer was gazing down as she entered and pulled up with a start just before she ran into Bree. "Who're you?"

Her bright blue eyes widened.

Bree bit her lip, uncomfortably shy, realizing she would be living with a total stranger. Having spent her entire life near the cottage or the castle, she'd rarely had the chance to meet a person she didn't know. "My name is Bridget Barry—my family calls me Bree. Mr. Barton hired me as a seamstress. I live in Queensland, or, well, I did. I might not ever go back."

She realized she was babbling.

The girl flashed a wide smile. "I'm Annette Mallory. Anne.

You just get on the ship?"

"Yes, a few moments ago, as a matter of fact. I hope it's all right I put my clothes in the wardrobe?"

"Sure. I'm in the lower bunk, so you'll have to take the upper. The bedding is folded on top. I'm glad to have a roomie. It can get kind of lonely even with all the people around. Come with me, I'll show you the facilities. We're lucky they're down around the corner. Close enough to be 22

An Unsinkable Love

by Terri Benson

convenient, but not right next door. I roomed next to them one trip, and I'll tell you, it was the worst. Noisy, and it didn't smell very good either. Of course, that was a different ship.

Maxwell—he's a friend of mine from engineering—he says there'll likely be a lot of little problems to fix since this is the ship's first trip out. I hope it's nothing to do with the toilets."

Anne paused for breath, removed her apron and hung it on one of a row of hooks next to the door.

Bree followed the young woman out into the hall and around a long bulkhead. There were people everywhere. Most were busy and focused on a task, but she saw a few couples or small groups talking and laughing, and assumed they'd finished their shifts for the day. The bathing facilities, one of three on their deck according to Anne, included several private water closets in a long line, with a pair of sinks in the corner. A large mirror occupying most of the wall space reflected tired green eyes, her face even paler than usual. A hallway alongside led to private bathing chambers, each with a large enameled tub.

"You'll have to see how your schedule works out. This place can be a mess at times when there are too many girls trying to get ready at the same time," Anne said, as they headed back to their cabin.

"I can imagine." Bree nodded, trying to envision bathing and dressing with so many strangers nearby.

As they returned to their tiny room, the floor vibrated and Bree heard a dull rumble. They were leaving—no turning back now. Mr. Barton's instructions came back to her. "Anne, can you tell me how to find F Deck?"

23

An Unsinkable Love

by Terri Benson

"Sure. Go right as you leave then two more rights. You'll see stairs ahead. Go down one level. I don't know where the tailor shop is exactly, but you can ask the deck stewards.

They'll know."

Bree surveyed her suit, which was a tad rumpled. Her own design, it sported an ankle-length slim skirt topped by a long, belted tunic with deep V neckline. A high-necked white silk blouse with cravat and mock pearl buttons filled the gap.

She'd have to wear the suit and her dainty lace-up kid boots until she received her uniform.

Bree followed Anne's directions and nodded shyly at other workers as they passed in the halls. She stepped off the last tread as a man dressed in casual flannels and twirling a straw boater on his finger barreled around the corner. Bree cringed, expecting to be knocked flat. With split-second reflexes, he threw his arm out, raised his shoulder and spun gracefully on his heel. He cleared the top of her head by a fraction of an inch before he fetched up against the bulkhead with a hard thump.

"Are you hurt?" Bree asked as she looked up. He towered a good foot taller, filling her vision with broad shoulders and a tantalizing V of bronzed skin framed by the open neck of his striped collarless shirt. She tipped her head back. Beyond his corded neck, she noted a firm chin. His well-formed lips stretched in a broad smile beneath a patrician nose and cobalt eyes gleaming with a combination of amusement and interest. A thatch of damp chestnut hair with pale highlights the color of ripe wheat complemented his deeply tanned skin.

24

An Unsinkable Love

by Terri Benson

Realizing she was gawking quite rudely, Bree snapped her mouth shut and felt the heat rise to her face.

He rubbed his shoulder. "I think I'll live." His cocky grin changed to chagrin after he noticed his straw hat. "Can't say the same for my boater, though." The brim hung loose from the crown, which had a jagged hole punched through it.

Bree knew her pale skin flushed deeper as his gaze traveled down to her toes and back up again, the cocky grin returning wider than ever. No one had ever studied her like that before. He was quite cheeky, but she couldn't help the shiver of excitement that flared through her body. It was far different from the fright that had plagued her when Lord Rothberry caught her in the gallery and made all those disgusting demands as his eyes fair stripped the clothes from her body.

Actually, it felt rather delightful to have a dapper young man admire her. With a start, Bree realized she'd allowed him to stare for far too long and tried to dampen her own excessive interest. She drew herself up to her full height, which put her nose one button below the fascinating bit of tanned skin. She affected her haughtiest Lady Rothberry tone and said, "Excuse me, sir," then whirled to continue on her way.

"Wait. I'm sorry. You took me by surprise. I hadn't expected to nearly run over a lovely young woman down here below decks. Please, let me introduce myself. My name is Malcolm DuMont. And you are?"

Bree halted and groaned quietly in frustration as she considered what she should do. She chewed her lip a 25

An Unsinkable Love

by Terri Benson

moment, then turned to find him uncomfortably close and drew back a step. He really didn't seem the least bit contrite as he stood there, hand held out and eyebrow cocked.

Mr. DuMont obviously wasn't an employee. Bree wished she had been given instruction on how she should behave when speaking to a paying passenger. Mr. Barton would probably fire her on the spot if the man complained then she'd have no choice but to pay out her few coins for passage. He continued to watch her, head tipped to the side, as she hesitated.

With a resigned sigh she said, "Bridget Barry," and briefly shook his hand. "I don't mean to be rude, sir, but I do need to be about my business." Bree turned and scurried down the corridor, so flustered by the lingering warmth of his touch she could only hope she headed in the right direction.



* * * *

Malcolm watched the trim figure hurry down the hall. He smiled again, enjoying the view. Her long, wavy, auburn hair bounced with each step and the fabric of the slim skirt twitched over her hips in a most beguiling way. She dressed with style; the outfit could have come straight out of a Parisian design house, and he would certainly know. Of course, she was far too short for a couturier model, but he liked her small, shapely figure sheathed in the clinging outfit.

He'd felt no stirring, no interest, in the tall, gangly women strutting through the French salons these past several weeks.

His fingers itched to burrow into Miss Barry's long coppery 26

An Unsinkable Love

by Terri Benson

hair, a welcome relief to the boyish bobs sported by the haute couture.

He reached back and scrubbed the short damp hair on the back of his neck. He would definitely need to find out more about Miss Bridget Barry. The Titanic might be huge, but there weren't all that many people in first class—and she definitely qualified as first class. He wondered vaguely what brought her below decks. As far as he knew, the only facilities here were squash and racquet courts, the pool and Turkish bath, and third class quarters.

Already devising his seduction, he whistled as he sauntered to the elevator to meet his mother for tea.

[Back to Table of Contents]

27

An Unsinkable Love

by Terri Benson