Six Feet Under: a wlw Titanic lovestory

A delightful meeting under unexpected circumstances

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Journal Entry :// Lillian-Marie Buford
:// April 10th, 1912
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America. The land of promises, hopes, dreams and hopefully, my future.
I am writing this as we just boarded the ship.
It is truly magnificent; large in size and wonder.
Bernie is in his suite with his dearly beloved. He told me it's most befounding;
but father paid extra for mine.
I do not think he did it for me. I think he did it to spite him.
He is not the biggest fan of Bernie's marriage. Although I'm quite certain he would have married my mother under any circumstances.
They were both very eager to get me on this boat.
I am almost 18, and they want me safe and settled.
If I do not find a husband in America, I don't know what I'll do.
I can't live by my father's means forever.
In a way, this trip is my last taste of freedom.

South Hampton, 10th of April, 1912.
—> Lillian's P.O.V.
I went outside on deck to see the marvelous view again. The surrounding streets are crowding with people eager to watch the ship make its first voyage. They all look so small and insignificant from up here. It makes me feel like a great king. I walk down from C-deck to see the line-ups up close. We are early, I realize. The ship leaves in about an hour. A sudden voice stands out from the crowd;
"Don't you dare let go of my bagage, Dorothy! You're wobbling like a duck and it's making me nervous!" An elder voice yells demanding.
The girl, apparently named Dorothy, looks small and pale, but not at all distressed or off guard. "She's probably used to this." I let out a muted disapproval.
The girl looks up and notices me stare. Before the nosy woman can follow her gaze, she quickly looks down. Before I can give them another look, they're out of sight.

First-Class state room [06]
—> Dorothy's P.O.V.
"You almost dropped them in the water. Don't you dare think I will excuse this manner!" The duchess says disapprovingly.
"I apologize, Miss. I have tender arms." I say, not trying to sound bitter.
There is a knock on the door.
"Open the door for me, will you?" the duchess commands.
I open the door and find a maid standing on the other side.
"What is your business?" I ask directly but polite.
"I've come to check in with Miss. Griffiths. She called in for a maid. Although now I see that may be false." She looks me up and down discreetly. I will never understand how someone would have the nerve to look at another human being like that.
The duchess overhears and steps in;
"Oh, she isn't a maid. God, I don't really know what she's really doing here." She lets out an artificial laugh.
"Dorothy, your services aren't required any more for the rest of daylight."
"Are you firing me?" I say slightly shocked.
"Oh no! Dear no! I couldn't even if I wanted to. Go let out the dogs or something."
"But you don't have any—
"I no longer require your services Dorothy. I expect your return around dinner time." The duchess says warningly.
I do not dare speak any more and manage a small curtesy. I move outside to set my sights on the grand ship one last time before she leaves South Hampton. I haven't had much time to look at it until now. I was too busy being yelled at.

D-Deck
Isn't it delightful here? I almost think out loud. I soak in what little there is of the resilient sunlight and take a deep breath. Most people have boarded. I make my way towards C-Deck when I hear a squabble;
"They lost one of my suitcases! I asked for it to be brought to my brother's state-room for safe-keeping but it is not there. You have not a slight comprehension of how important that suitcase is to my family!'' A young lady shouts to a Bellboy.
''I'm incredibly sorry Miss, they thought it ought to be mailed to the upcoming address. Your acquaintances Mrs. and Mr. Buford both signed the post.''
I watch the lady turn redder with each word coming out of the boy's mouth.
She tries to calm herself by taking a deep breath: ''And where may my suitcase find itself at the moment?''
"It should be down there with the others.'' The boy replies.
I follow the Lady's gaze. Her eyes open wider and it becomes clear she has spotted the package.
"Miss. You unfortunately cannot go down there, the ship will leave any moment now, no passengers are allowed back on board.''
The lady doesn't seem to hear him and takes off.
" Now I don't want to miss this.'' I say full of excitement.

Out of breath by following the surprisingly fast lady, I watch her trying to get past one of the crewmen.
"Madam, the drawbridge has been lifted, the ship will soon take off.'' He tries to explain. I watch with eagerness as the lady does something unthinkable.
She's going to try to jump, I realize.
Before she gets the opportunity to, I rush forwards and grasp her waist. She almost lands in the water but I manage to pull her back. We both fall relentlessly on the carpet. I, to my dismay, on top of her. We are both too shocked to move.
"Please-'' she barely manages a whisper. ''—Get off of me'''.
I nod with wide eyes as the crewman helps me get up. I straighten my skirt.
He holds out his arm for her too, but she does not take it. She gets up, straightens her narrow shoulders and says: ''I apologize for my behaviour. Thank you for preventing me from making a humiliating mistake.'' I do not dare do more than nod.
She turns to the crewman. ''Now if you will excuse me and my maid.''
She carefully takes my arm and walks me down the hallway. She doesn't say a word until all movement is out of sight.

"I trust you not to speak a word of this to anyone.''
I look into her promising deep-blue eyes, not saying a word.
"Now that that's settled—-" she continues,
"I actually am sorry for all that fuss. My name is Lillian, Lillian-Marie Buford. Happy to make your acquaintance.''
"Dorothy.'' I manage to say. "Dorothy Smith-Williams."
There falls a durable silence.
"And what brings you here?'' I ask, trying to shake off all that just happened.
"I am on my way to America with my brother and sister-in-law. My father managed me a high-end second-class ticket as an early birthday gift.'' she replied.
Traveling to America, for her birthday? I try to shake of my pretences.
"And when may that be?'' I ask, not at all interested in this woman's personal life. ''April 15th. I will be turning eighteen.''
"You wouldn't strike me as eighteen.'' I say getting a little more comfortable around this upper-class lady.
"How so?'' She asks, a bit insulted.
I suddenly turn a little red. Remember who you're talking to, I remind myself.
"You know—you just seem a bit—formal. That's all. Just a little uptight. Which is not necessarily a bad th-''
"Uptight?" She interrupts, "I believe I am the opposite.''
"How so?'' I repeat after her. She doesn't waste her time to respond, but smiles.
"Goodbye, Dorothy Smith-Williams.''

Just as she was about to take off, I say to her back:
"What was so important about that suitcase?''
I now realize what an intruding question that was and almost start to apologize, but the lady turns around and answers;
"A list.''
"A list?'' I ask.
"A list.'' She repeats with a subtle grin.