Page 62 of The Missing Pages
She smiled. “We will have nearly a week on the ship. I’m sure there will be plenty of time to share a meal.”
“Maybe once you’re settled in, we can meet in the library,” I suggested. “I’m curious to see what theTitanichas on its bookshelves.”
“Me too. What a job that must be, to have to satisfy so many varied tastes on board. Maybe I should apply to be the boat’s personal librarian!”
“Now that’s an idea!” I slapped my knee.
She laughed, both of us bemused about what a wonderful job that would be.
“Miss Lippoldt, I have a porter waiting to escort you to the deck,” our driver informed her as he pulled open her door. Morning sunshine poured in and the briny air filled the car.
“See you in an hour in the library?” She clasped theRubaiyatto her chest and made her way to leave.
“Yes,” I told her. As she headed toward the gangplank, I could hear her laughter still in my ears, as bright as bells.
I wished I had been able to record those first moments of stepping on board theTitanicwith Ada. The beautiful carved staircase. The glass domed ceiling. The marble floors. Even for someone like myself who had already experienced some of the most luxurious settings in the world, it was intoxicating.
A group of musicians played lively tunes as flutes of champagne were offered from silver trays. Women with feathered hats and fans glided like swans through the reception rooms. I recognized some of my parents’ friends immediately, John and Marian Thayer traveling with their seventeen-year-old son, Jack. Mrs. Thayer greeted me warmly and asked where my parents were.
“They’ll board in Cherbourg and be here by dinnertime.”
“We can’t wait to see them.” Marian leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. Her perfume contributed an extra note of gardenia in the air.
“Your father will be having a cigar with me tonight.” Mr. Thayer came over to me and slapped me on the back. “The finest humidor awaits him. At least that’s what I hear.”
“He will look forward to that,” I told him. All I could do was wait to extricate myself from these well-meaning people and freshen up so I could find Ada in the library.
Walking down the long, white corridor toward my stateroom, I inhaled the heady scent of varnish and fresh paint. Everything on theTitanicsmelled new.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Widener,” a young man in a White Star uniform greeted me. “Your trunk has just been unpacked for you.” He opened the door to my cabin with a flourish. I steppedinside and discovered a room as beautiful as the brochure had promised. Satinwood paneled walls, Italianate-style furniture, and a meticulously crafted coffered ceiling. Straight ahead, just beneath one of the windows, stood a mahogany desk with a matching chair upholstered in rich sapphire-blue silk.
“I hope it’s to your liking,” the steward said. “Please let me know if there’s anything else you might need. Your dinner jacket is being pressed as we speak.”
Room C-82 was indeed to my liking. It had everything I could possibly want on the high seas. In the corner of the room was a majestically appointed twin bed with a carved head and footboard. The mattress and pillows were fitted with Egyptian cotton sheets as white as fresh snow.
“It’s perfect,” I said. Shafts of golden light poured into the room from the one window. All of the brass and crystal fittings sparkled untouched. There was something novel knowing I would be the first passenger to ever sleep in this room.
What I didn’t tell the steward was that there was one thing missing from the room: Ada.
My parents’ suite was directly adjacent to mine, so perhaps it was a good thing Ada’s room was on the D deck. Sangorski had purchased a more modest first-class cabin for her.
These past three-and-a-half weeks in London had made me certain of one thing. It pained me not to have Ada by my side. I wanted to travel the world with her, comb every library and bookshop on the globe as partners. I wanted to see her smile in the morning when I awakened and hear her laughter like music every single day. I had come to a decision. I wanted Miss Ada Lippoldt to be my wife.
The official lending library of theTitanicwas conveniently located on the same level as my room, but on the other, less desirable end of the ship that overlooked the stern deck. It was an ideal place for me and Ada to meet, not only because it had the largest selection of books for the ship’s passengers, but also because it technically served as the social lounge for all of the second-class passengers. I doubted anyone in my parents’ social set would be there, opting instead for the more intimate and sumptuously appointed first-class lounge on the A deck just off the beautiful grand staircase.
It was still a lovely place to meet. With its neoclassical accents and walls made from contrasting mahogany and sycamore panels, the space was warm and inviting. Ada was already nestled into one of the comfortable chairs at the far end of the room when I arrived.
“You got here early,” I said as I took her in. She had changed into a new dress, a delicate mauve silk dress with pearl buttons. “I hope you haven’t been waiting for me too long.”
Her eyes flickered. “I wanted to beat you to the chase. I had to see what they had on their shelves first.”
I laughed. “I appreciate your competitive spirit. And what did you discover?”
“Edith Wharton, James Fenimore Cooper, the usual fare. But there’s also one very special book I was surprised to see.”
I leaned in closer. “Now you’ve piqued my interest, Miss Lippoldt.” I spotted a book beneath her folded hands. “Do show me.”
She lifted her hands.
