Noir Fan Fiction ❯ Titanic: An Assignment to Remember ❯ Erin's Lament ( Chapter 4 )

Title: Titanic: An Assignment to Remember

Rating: PG13

Disclaimer: I do not own nor was I in any way involved with the creation of Noir. If I were you wouldn't be READING this.

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Chapter 4

"As dusk fell, the coast rounded away from us to the northwest, and the last we saw of Europe was the Irish mountains dim and faint in the dropping darkness. Many things would happen to us all, many experiences sudden, vivid, and impressive to be encountered before we saw land again."

Lawrence Beesley, 2nd Class Passenger

The place where most of the business was conducted was on the first class promenade deck. Some of the merchants had their products displayed on prepared tables while others simply carried them around and displayed their wares to passersby or passengers seated in deck chairs. Some were perfectly at ease; all paid for the brief stay onboard. Yet, some walked about with a tenseness. Some had snuck onboard and did their business while always being prepared to leap overboard if a member of the crew were to catch them.
Mireille had decided to go the extra mile and purchase Kirika several dresses rather than the agreed upon one. She'd taken Kirika about the deck several times making small purchases here and there. With a substantial enough wardrobe to satisfy the needs of the next few days all that was left to do was find Kirika an evening dress. That meant seeking out the lace merchants for a proper outfit. They were situated on the starboard side facing the Irish coast. There were five in the group in total: three men and two women. Each carried several bundles that, no doubt, contained the lace garments.
So, Kirika was directed to lie back on a deck chair while the merchants displayed their fine array of evening attire. The plan had been to quickly go through the number of outfits they had and filter out the ones that would fit Kirika with ease, then simply adjourn to their stateroom and make the final decision there through trying them on. However, it turned out to be more difficult than anticipated. It wasn't so much a problem of style, for all were works of art in their own right. The problem was finding one that would fit the girl's small frame, and without the ability to have one made on the spot they would have to make due with what was there.
It was going on one in the afternoon. Lunch would be starting soon and they were nowhere near being ready. Mireille's eyes had started to wander at this point. The deck was filled with all sorts of people; there were no shortage of distractions to be found. On one end there was a priest who strode about the deck, snapping photos occasionally. At another area there was a little boy playing with a top while his father cheered him on. One person in particular caught Mireille's attention.
He was standing at the rail looking out towards the long Irish coast they were docked along. He was wearing the same attire he'd worn earlier that morning and he still had his pad and pencil at hand. The pencil had shrunk considerably since then and the pad looked full of notations, most no doubt along the same lines as his coat hook problem earlier.
"You keep looking for something to wear, I'll be just over there," Mireille told Kirika while pointing towards the gentleman at the rail.
Kirika didn't seem to understand her reasoning for leaving, but made no objection as Mireille headed over.
"I thought that the designer's job was done when the ship was afloat, am I right?"
The middle-aged Irishman turned to her and, upon recognizing her, began "Not entirely, I'm just tightening a few bolts here and there, making sure everything's perfect. That way, if anything does go wrong, the only person I'll have to blame is myself. How are you Miss, I hope I didn't disturb you too much this morning."
"Oh, its quite alright, I was planning to get up anyway. My name is Mireille Bouquet, and you are....?"
"Oh I'm terribly sorry, I didn't introduce myself earlier. I'm Andrews, Thomas Andrews and it is a pleasure to meet you Miss Bouquet," he proclaimed with a smile.
Mirielle held herself back, "Its very nice to meet you Mr. Andrews, and congratulations. It seems that your work has paid off."
"Thank you very much Miss Bouquet, I appreciate it," and with that he returned to his observation of the Irish coast.
"Are you homesick already Mr. Andrews," Mireille asked.
"A little I suppose. Though, I don't live in this part of Ireland," he said while gesturing towards Queenstown. "I was born in Comber, County Down, but now I live in Belfast. Both are in Northern Ireland so this view is the closest I'll have to saying farewell to my home. My little daughter, Elizabeth, she cried when we said goodbye. So yes....I suppose I'm a little homesick."
Mireille could tell with ease that Mr. Andrews was a good, easily likable gentleman. However, she couldn't let that get in the way of her work. She'd still have to finalize a plan on how best to accomplish this, one of two goals for Titanic's maiden voyage.
Mireille was about to ask Mr. Andrews about his notations when she was suddenly interrupted by the loud blast of a trumpet nearby. Turning towards the entrance to the grand staircase she saw a young gentleman, clearly a member of the crew, blowing a merry tune on a trumpet. She could only cover her ears against the noise, at which Mr. Andrews became quite amused.
"I see you've never traveled on a British ship before Miss. Bouquet. Its customary to have a musician play 'The Roast beef of Old England' to announce all meals onboard ship.
"So, you're telling me that the British announce their meals as though they are signaling a cavalry charge?"
"Well if you want to look at it that way, then I suppose you're right," Mr. Andrews admitted with a chuckle.