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  She stood and set her teacup on the wicker table.

  “Carrington, where are you going?” her mother asked.

  “Just for a stroll on deck, Mother.”

  “By yourself?”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  She pulled on the coat she had placed over the back of her chair and buttoned it, she wasn’t wearing a hat but instead had her hair pulled back with a velvet bow.

  She walked out onto the deck and realized that the temperature was noticeably colder than it had been before. She didn’t question where to walk to. She began walking, as if drawn there, to the front of the ship.

  ******

  Wilson St. Clair took a seat opposite Jackson Mackenzie.

  “Did you speak to Beckett?”

  “I did, Wilson. But I’m not sure how much good it did.”

  “What was his response?”

  Jackson said, “He claims he is love with Carrington. I am not excusing his actions, mind you.”

  “I’ve given this whole situation some thought since this morning. Perhaps I over reacted. Certainly her mother did.”

  “I’ve made it clear to Beckett that some things aren’t to be tolerated. Certainly not in this kind of setting.”

  “Unlike Rose, I hardly think anyone aboard the Titanic is talking about our children, or even how and where they spent the night.”

  “I agree, but I still find that kind of circumstance unacceptable.”

  “Agreed, they need to be more discreet. That girl has given us some trying moments. She’s far too smart to be a woman and has a stubborn streak as well. She does at least seem fond of Beckett.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “That perhaps this is a union that should be encouraged. Except that if we told Carrington we were in favor of it, it would send her running the other way.”

  “Beckett needs some reason to give up this notion about writing and settle down. Having a wife to support might be just what he needs.”

  “At the risk of sounding crude, is he well set for money?”

  “He has a substantial trust fund from Alice’s father that he has rights to now, and more that he will come into in time. As well as a position waiting for him at the bank. And he is of course, the sole heir to the rest.”

  “How to go about this is the question.”

  “I say we leave it until we get back to New York, see how the relationship seems to be going. I haven’t noticed them together today.”

  “I heard from Warren that they argued.”

  Wilson nodded. “Fueled, no doubt by our own objections. Well, let’s hope things work out.”

  “Normally I wouldn’t be in favor of making this kind of arrangement,” Jackson said. “But Beckett needs to settle down.”

  “I think we could make this work to all of our advantage.”

  Wilson stood and left, leaving Jackson sitting at the table. He knew that Wilson was suggesting that a marriage between their children would also include joint business ventures between the two of them.

  Wilson seemed sure that it was going to happen. But Jackson knew Beckett better than his son realized. This might be a business deal that was hard to pin down.

  ******

  Beckett watched Carrington walk to the bow of the ship from the other side of the deck. She looked beautiful, sad, determined. He knew that as soon as he showed up, as soon as he stood beside her that she would know he had written the meeting in the book. He took the opportunity to watch her as she leaned on the rail, her hair blowing gently over her shoulder.

  He sighed and walked toward her.

  “Hello, Carri.”

  “I distinctly remember telling you that I don’t wish to be called that.”

  So this was the way the conversation was going to go. That was all right, at least they were talking and it hadn’t been previously scripted.

  “I’m sorry. Old habits are hard to break.”

  “What did you want Beckett? Did you write this scene too? Have I said all the things I’m supposed to up to this point?”

  “I wrote that we would meet here. But I swear to you

  I didn’t write our conversation.”

  “Give me one reason why I should believe that.”

  “I just didn’t. That’s all I can tell you.”

  “So what did you expect us to talk about?”

  He leaned on the railing, facing her. “Maybe about what happened this morning.”

  “We argued. But maybe they’re right.”

  “Who?”

  “Our parents.”

  “What do they know about you and me?”

  Her heart softened a little at the way he said that, dropping his voice and adding a little tenderness.

  “My mother has forbidden me to see you.”

  He laughed softly. “And yet here you are.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He reached up and ran a fingertip gently down her face. “Only that I don’t think you always do what your mother wants.”

  “Well, I try not to.”

  She smiled at him for the first time since early morning.

  “So what do we do now, Carrington?”

  “I have no idea. I still think I resent everything that’s happened between us happening because you wrote it.”

  “What if the reason I wrote it was because deep down, I really felt all that? That I wanted it to happen that way?”

  “It still isn’t fair, Beckett, that it was only what you wanted.”

  He moved closer. “Are you sure it was all just what I wanted?”

  She knew he was going to try and kiss her. And somehow, she wasn’t ready for that. Not yet, anyway.

  “I’m not sure about anything just now, Beckett.” And she turned and walked away. He watched her until she was out of sight, and then turned and leaned against the railing, watching the ocean slap against the ship and wondering what to do next.

  ******

  Jack Phillips was swamped with messages that passengers wanted to send. So swamped that he almost resented having to receive messages. Another ice warning came across. Captain Smith hadn’t seemed terribly concerned with the others. He pondered what to do and after a moment’s deliberation, set it aside to pass on to the bridge later and got back to the task at hand.

  *******

  Wilson St. Clair spoke to his wife. “I’m not at all sure that we want to forbid this friendship, or whatever it is, between Carrington and Beckett MacKenzie.”

  “You can’t be serious! The boy took advantage of your daughter.”

  “Did he? By Carrington’s admission, she went to his room, not the other way around.”

  Rose sank down into a chair. “What are you suggesting, Wilson?”

  “That Beckett MacKenzie may be the only young man we could ever marry her off to.”

  “And how would you propose to do that?”

  “Jackson and I are, as you know, old friends. I discussed the possibility of a merger with him. I think he is open to it. It couldn’t hurt us to have a bank at our disposal, nor could it hurt Carrington to have Beckett’s inheritance.”

  “Does he have an inheritance? Or is that all show?”

  “According to his father he is a wealthy young man in his own right, aside from whatever he stands to inherit one day.”

  Rose considered that. “I still can’t allow her to be with him. I can’t have people talking.”

  “Who would talk, my dear? Mr. Guggenheim is sitting at the table every night with a woman who isn’t his wife. Mr. Astor has been the subject of enough gossip himself recently that I doubt he would. That Brown woman? Are you honestly worried about new money?”

  “And if something…happens…because of their actions last night?”

  “Highly unlikely, but we would have to deal with that if it happened.”

  “She’s so headstrong.”

  “You cannot let her think you are in favor of a union.”

  “Are you sure this is a
good idea?”

  “I’m sure that all other attempts to curb her spirit, to find her a husband have failed.”

  Rose nodded. “I won’t get a decent night’s sleep until she is properly married.”

  “Just consider it, Rose.”

  He left her in their cabin. She sat on the chair and thought about what he had said. It would be a big society wedding. They could invite the Astors and the Guggenheims. Even Molly Brown. She could tell everyone, I knew, even when they were children, that one day they would marry. No one would need to know about their daughter’s indiscretions on the ship. If only Carrington didn’t find a way to ruin everything.

  ******

  Beckett grew tired of leaning on the rail. The mummy kept coming to mind. Why? He hadn’t written anything else about it. He couldn’t dismiss his thoughts about it, as if it was calling him. He found his way down to the cargo hold. He wasn’t even very surprised to find Carrington there inspecting it.

  “Aren’t you afraid of incurring the wrath of whoever that is?”

  She jumped. “Don’t sneak up on me!”

  “What are you doing down here?”

  “What are you?”

  “I don’t know. I almost felt like the mummy was calling me down here.”

  “So did I and I have no reason why.”

  “Do you think there is any truth to Mr. Stead’s story?”

  “I don’t know. If so, then we may find ourselves in terrible trouble.”

  “We haven’t disturbed it.”

  She turned to face him. “But I really want to open the crate, Beckett.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “I am. I won’t open the coffin, if that’s what’s inside. But I have to know.”

  Did he really believe in curses? Even Egyptian ones? Four days ago he would have said no, resoundingly. But then four days ago he wouldn’t have believed in books with magical powers either.

  She was looking at him, actually pleading with him with her eyes to help her out, to grant this one wish. One thing he was certain of, he hadn’t written this scene or anticipated it.

  “Okay. But we just open the box, not anything that’s inside.”

  “And we need to be careful not to disturb anything, not to be too rough. I don’t want to do anything that the spirits might think was disturbing the person inside the box.”

  “Is it nailed shut?”

  “That’s the amazing thing. I checked. It isn’t. All we have to do it open these latches. I was about to do it myself when you walked up.”

  He stepped closer. He took a deep breath and flipped the first latch. And then another, and then another. When they were all open he said, “Ready or not.”

  She very gently opened the lid, while he held the box still.

  They looked inside. An elaborate sarcophagus rested inside, painted and enameled with jeweled tones. “Oh,” Carrington gasped. “It’s her. The Princess of Amen-Ra. I saw the coffin board in the museum.”

  Beckett could only stare. The coffin was the one in Stead’s story. “I didn’t write that. Not that it was the one in his story.”

  “Do you think he’s the one who brought it on?”

  “I have no idea and I’m not going to ask. Neither are you. Let’s close this up and get out of here. I think we’re probably tempting fate as much as we dare.”

  Ever so gently they closed the lid and locked it back up. “What now?”

  Carrington said, “I have no idea. I never even dreamed I ever see a mummy up close. I think she knows we didn’t intend to disturb her.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “In the story everyone who looked at it saw horrible faces. All we saw was the coffin.”

  Beckett felt a shiver run over him. “I hope you’re right.”

  He followed her up the stairs that led them back to the deck. “Does this change anything?”

  She wanted so badly to have him take her in his arms and kiss her. But something inside her just wouldn’t give in that easily. “I don’t know.”

  “When will you?” He was so close that he could have easily kissed her. He wanted to, but held back.

  “I’ll let you know.” She swept past him, leaving him confused. He pulled the book out of his pocket and looked at it again. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. He considered writing the words he wanted to write, taking matters into his own hands again. That’s what got you into this mess, he thought. He had to work hard to resist the urge to write down what he wanted, knowing that he had to let Carrington have some say in what happened between them. He tucked the book and pen back in his pocket and took another stroll around the deck.

  Chapter Nine

  Carrington checked her appearance in the full length mirror. “It’s a lovely dress, ma’am,” the maid said.

  “Thank you. I think we’re done.” The maid dropped a slight curtsy and exited as Rose swept into the room.

  “Are you sure that you want to wear that?”

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  “It’s so…somber.”

  The black dress was overlaid in black lace and embroidered all over in heavy beading. It was a grown up dress in Carrington’s mind. A dress that made a statement. “It’s elegant.”

  “You need some jewelry, at least.” Her mother went to the safe and worked the combination, pulled out a wooden jewel box. “Here, try these.” She handed Carrington a smaller velvet box. Carrington opened it to find a pearl, diamond and ruby necklace, earrings and a bracelet.

  “They’re beautiful! I’ve never seen these before.” She temporarily forgot to be angry with her mother as she put on the jewels.

  “Your grandmother’s. I had intended them as an engagement gift.”

  Not that again, Carrington thought, but she didn’t say anything. She admired the necklace when she had fastened it around her neck. Her mother couldn’t be faulted in her taste in jewelry that much was true. The rubies added just the right amount of color to what she was wearing, added a little touch of glamour and softened the severity of the dress.

  “Are you ready for dinner, then?”

  Carrington nodded.

  “Then let’s go. I do hate arriving late and your father is on time for once.”

  ******

  Second Officer Lightoller waited for instructions from Captain Smith.

  “Ice warnings, Mr. Lightoller, but we’re a bit south.”

  “Yes, sir, but we’ll still keep a lookout.”

  “Temperature is 39 degrees.”

  “Right, sir.”

  Smith straightened the tie of his dress uniform. “Well, I’m off to dinner, then. You’ve got a good crew this evening, Mr. Lightoller.”

  “Yes, Captain. Enjoy your dinner.”

  Smith left the bridge and headed for the first class dining room. Second Officer Lightoller read the posted ice warnings. They had received a number, he knew. Indeed, the captain seemed nonchalant about the warnings. He posted the warnings where they could easily be seen.

  ******

  Beckett stood at the bottom of the grand staircase as Carrington descended. Had anyone ever looked as beautiful as she did, in that black dress adorned with pearls and rubies? She’d worn that gown on purpose. He knew it, just to torment him. She swept past him without so much as a glance, but he was expecting that too. She would have to speak to him at dinner and then somehow he would find a way to get her alone and make her settle this argument once and for all. He had no intention of letting her end it and he didn’t want to spend the rest of the voyage playing games. He’d forced himself not to write what he wanted into the book. He had spent the time since Carrington has left him on deck wondering what he was going to do about the book. He was torn as to whether to try and finish it, to keep it as it was, or even to toss it overboard.

  They settled into their places. She sat, as she had each night before, between him and Molly. Molly was in rare form that night, starting the dinner conversation by warning Mr. Stead that if
he told any more stories he would be banished. Even Stead laughed good- naturedly. Captain Smith joined their table and kept the conversation going by sharing some of his more memorable voyages.