Page 57 of The Missing Pages
Love.
I never knew romantic love before I met Ada. I knew my mother’s love, strong and unconditional. I knew my grandfather’s love, so earnest and evident by the many precious books he purchased on my behalf. My father’s love was quieter, one shown with restraint. My siblings’ felt more like a whisper—a love that I had taken for granted, but was always there.
In the past, whenever I read about characters falling in love, it struck me as something abstract. An exaggeration of emotions that was wholly foreign to me, something that I didn’t yet have the ability to understand.
But like any good surprise, it hit me when I was least expecting it. If paper can be born from wood and pulp, if books can be created from words printed then bound, then love can emerge out of its own mysterious ingredients at any time.
So it was Ada who cleaved my heart open. The fibers that connected us through those first letters grew to be a connection so strong, I could think of nothing except getting her on the gloriousTitanicsailing home with me.
My mother was the first to make note of the change within me. She eyed it, commenting on the flush in my complexion. The distant look I gave her when we were alone together in her room at the Ritz; I was present but clearly so far away.
“You seem distracted, darling,” she said as she searched my expression for more clues.
I don’t even think I answered her. Amalie arranged the caddy of tea that the waitstaff had brought to Mother’s suite. She gave me a wry smile when she handed me my cup.
“Young love,” Amalie whispered. “You wear it well, Mr. Widener,” and then she winked.
When I look back on those last days in London, I can honestly say they were the happiest of my life. A freedom exists when you’re abroad, allowing you to roam the streets anonymously, to absorb your surroundings with fresh eyes. Even one’s morning coffee tastes different when one crosses the sea. The senses awaken. What was once dull, brightens. The ordinary is replaced by the extraordinary. I loved each day for what it brought anew.
Back home, my routine always ran like clockwork. From having my morning coffee with my family in the peach and sage green breakfast room at Lynnewood, to accompanying my father to the family’s office in the city every few days. I had never been a risk taker. I was a man who found adventure solely in the chapters of a book or in my hunt to acquire a new one. But now my lifebegan to mimic what I’d only previously experienced on the page. My heart ached. My reasoning was affected by distraction. Anything and everything seemed to loop back to Ada. And it was both exhilarating and maddening, all at the same time.
Less than two weeks remained before we were to depart for New York, and I was both relieved and overjoyed that Ada would now be on the boat with me. And although I’d like to say that I wasn’t taken in by all of the hoopla surrounding theTitanic’s maiden voyage, the excitement surrounding it felt contagious. The papers were abuzz with headlines about the world’s largest liner, displaying countless photographs of the ship in Southampton. Its elegant and graceful exterior. Its gleaming portholes.
The ship was said to be nearly 900 feet long and, according to some reports, it took more than 3 million rivets and several tons of iron and steel to create its 26,000-pound hull. The brochures extolled its sumptuous luxury, with every amenity available to its first-class guests: a heated swimming pool, Turkish baths, electric therapeutic baths, and steam room. Squash courts and a fully equipped gymnasium that included rowing machines, stationary exercise bikes, and an electric horse and two electric camels. Aside from the opulent dining room for all first-class passengers, the ship also had an a la carte restaurant that offered even more extravagant menu items, and a smoking lounge for the male passengers.
I was no stranger to luxury and was familiar with all the comforts of sea travel. Our journey over to England was aboard theMauretania, which had been considered the crown jewel of the White Star line until theTitanicwas unveiled, thoughit remained the fastest of the company’s fleet. But the energy leading up to theTitanic’s departure now felt like something wholly different.
We couldn’t help but feel like we were part of a new dawn in history, a time when engineering and the dreams of man could make anything possible. A floating world at your fingertips. You would have available everything you ever needed or desired, from the elegance of a Parisian café to a game of bowling. It saddened me to think of Ada being put in a second-class cabin, so I began to imagine all sorts of scenarios in which I would send a cable to my grandfather back home asking him for additional funds from my trust so that I could ensure that Ada might travel in comfort.
But in the end, it proved unnecessary, for a few days after I spoke to Quaritch, I received a new message at the Ritz from him. It was short and revealed good news.
Sangorksi’s insurance stipulates the book must travel with Miss Lippoldt first class, so she will have access to placing the book in the first-class safe. Her ticket was purchased this morning.
B.A.Q.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Much to Violet’s disappointment, only a few personal items of Harry’s had been donated to Harvard apart from his books. Aside from his desk lamp, a monogrammed tray, and the photograph of his mother, the most affecting object was his crystal inkwell. With its unique lid that had a silver pocket watch custom fitted into its top, this solitary heirloom had remained a favorite of the librarians in Widener and those who knew the room well because it was so very personal.
Many on the staff believed it most embodied the young gentleman’s spirit. One could easily imagine him sitting down at his desk and checking the time, before pulling out his fountain pen to write a letter. But one Monday, just days away from the school break for Thanksgiving, the watch stopped working. Violet had just delivered a book to Houghton when she ran into Madeline and heard the news.
“It’s so strange,” Madeline mused. “It had once stopped running a few years back, so I had everything cleaned. The gears, the springs… every one of the mechanisms. The watchmaker said it should be good for a long time.”
“Maybe the battery just needs to be replaced?”
Madeline made a face. “Violet, it’s from 1905. It doesn’t run on a battery. You just need to use the winding key. I tried several times, but I couldn’t get it to start running again.”
“Oh.” Violet reddened. “I didn’t realize…”
“Never mind,” Madeline cut her off. “Can you do me a favor and ask Pete over at Lamont to come over and take a look? He knows how to wind it, so maybe I’m just not doing it right. But we have to get it working again. As Harry’s caretakers, we’re responsible for that room and everything in it.
Violet made a call to Pete at Lamont Library. Within a few minutes, he arrived wearing a flannel shirt and corduroys.
“It’s crazy so few people know how to wind a watch,” he said. “And this is Harvard.”
Violet didn’t dare admit she had thought it ran on a quartz battery like her Swatch.
Pete sat down and opened the bottom drawer of Harry’s desk.
