Prologue

11:00 am, April 10th 1912,
Southampton,
England

h, isn't it a perfectly wonderful ship?" Emma Woodhouse asked looking at the magnificent shape of the Titanic, as it lay harboured in the port at Southampton. It had been described in a newspaper as a "Floating Palace" or the "Ship of Dreams" and indeed, gazing upon the ship, she heartily agreed with the reporters who had described it as such.

"It is an impressive sight, I grant you, but there is little difference between it and the Mauritania ," someone spoke from behind her. She turned and was about to disagree with the speaker, when she saw Mr. Knightley's teasing smile.

"I should have guessed that only you could find fault with the grandest ship in the world, Mr. Knightley."

"You misinterpret me, Emma, I do not find fault with it, I merely think that the fuss and hype about Titanic is ridiculous."

"Wait until you are inside Mr. Knightley and then you will see why there is so much fuss about it," Mrs. Weston said as she stepped out of the automobile, "Emma dear, take your warm shawl. I promised your father that I would take excellent care of you on this trip, and he would never forgive me if you returned to England with pneumonia."

Emma, Mrs. Weston and Mr. Knightley were traveling to New York to visit Emma's sister Isabella and Mr. Knightley's brother John who had gotten married two years ago. Due to her fathers illness, he was unable to accompany them and had entrusted her to Mrs. Weston, who was also traveling to America. Her own husband was going to meet them in New York, because he had traveled over earlier to attend to some of his business.

"I can't wait to see Isabella," Emma was saying eagerly, "It seems like an age since we last spoke to each other and though she writes frequently, it's not the same as having her in person, which I suppose is a selfish thought."

"It is only natural you should feel that way, Emma, and we shouldn't like you half so much if you didn't," said Mr. Knightley who always had had a soft spot in his heart for his brother's sister in law. Perhaps it was because she was one of the brightest and most intelligent of her sex, perhaps it was because they were best friends, perhaps even because she was the only woman, omitting Mrs. Weston and Isabella Knightley, who he could talk to openly and criticise when necessary yet be ensured that Emma wouldn't take it the wrong way. Between them there was the closeness of brother and sister, the respect of mutual beings, the intimacy of best friends and the playfulness of young lovers.

Mrs. Weston was meeting her step-son Frank Churchill at the harbour and began scanning the crowds anxiously, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. Finally she spotted his handsome curly head and called his name.

Emma nor Mr. Knightley had never met this young man before, but had heard many great things about him were eager to meet him, so while Mrs. Weston took care of the luggage, they introduced themselves properly.

He took an instant fancy to Miss Woodhouse, (much to the secret delight of Mrs. Weston) and offered her his arm. She accepted it, blushing, and looked at Mr. Knightley confusedly. He smiled broadly, and nodded, offering in turn his arm to Mrs. Weston.

"This ship is quite amazing, don't you think?" Mr. Churchill asked as they boarded the ship, "I feel quite privileged to be on her maiden voyage."

"Yes, one can't help getting the impression that it is a privilege to be on this boat. Oh Mr. Churchill look!" she gasped looking at the grand staircase, "Is that not exquisite?"

He looked at it and agreed enthusiastically. Emma waited for Mr. Knightley, who was coming up behind them and asked him, "Now do you see what all the fuss is for?"

"I do," replied he while taking in every detail of the beautiful room, from the ornate glass ceiling to the beautiful furniture.

"Come Emma," Mrs. Weston said, "We'll go and inspect the first class staterooms. Shall we meet you gentlemen here in say, an hour perhaps?"

Mr. Churchill and Mr. Knightley agreed and then wandered off in their own directions, Frank scanning the passenger list to make sure that Miss J. Fairfax's name was upon it and, Mr. Knightley, recognising a few of his friends, wandered over to join them.

While on their way to the staterooms, Mrs. Weston met an old acquaintance of hers, Mrs. Augusta Elton. Emma wondered vaguely whether she was related to Mr. Phillip Elton, an unfortunate vicar who had proposed to her last Summer, but then shook her head at the thought of it, realising that it would be utterly impossible. You can imagine her surprise when Mrs. Elton's dear "Caro spouse" appeared and was revealed to be none other than the same man. Fortunately, the awkwardness of the situation was soon put at rest by Emma's light and easy manner in talking to the couple and avoidance of any subjects at all that would bring to mind that terrible proposal of July 1911.

However both Emma's and Mrs. Weston's patience soon wore thin after Mrs. Elton's constant stream of babble and chatter in which she only made one point clear; that she herself was a boring woman who dug for compliments and grew peevish when received none. They made their polite excuses, and when Mrs. Elton was safely out of hearing distance, Emma remarked, "Lord, how that woman talks!" Alas, for Emma, Mrs. Elton did hear the comment and decided that these independent young English ladies had no breeding or gentility instilled at them at all. She then proceeded to make some remarks in bad taste to her husband about the "rudeness of girls nowadays. It is quite shocking."

Mr. Elton who had been secretly thinking of what his life might have been like, had he married Miss Woodhouse (a comparison of such, by the way, in which Mrs. Elton did not shine,) wisely said nothing for fear of saying too much.

Mrs. Weston and Emma met the gentlemen out on the deck at twelve o'clock, Emma having combed her hair and pinned on her hat at such an awkward angle, that although it looked elegant and tasteful, also managed to look as though it would fly of her head at the slightest gust of wind. Mr. Knightley promptly said so, removed the hat and placed in a more practical position. Had it been anyone but him, she would have been greatly enraged, but as it was him she smiled sweetly and thanked him. Mr. Churchill looked shocked at Mr. Knightley's bluntness and attempting to soothe the situation while gaining Emma's favour, said, "It does not matter in the least where the hat is put, because it is such a beautiful face that even if it was backwards, the wearer would still manage to look completely beautiful." Emma blushed, Mrs. Weston looked delighted and Mr. Knightley felt slightly ill.