Dora could not believe that she managed to convince her dad and David to come with her to England. She was especially surprised that David agreed to come back to England, after just having come back to the states. He said it wasn't a big deal, but she felt bad for some reason. There was something different about him. In his mannerisms, the second that they arrived in England. She should not have convinced him to come with her, but after having the phone conversation with Tilly, she knew it was going to be fun to go to the gala for the Titanic Society.
The time on her phone read five-thirty PM. The gala was for seven-thirty. She reluctantly looked down at her outfit. She was grunge incarnate and even her hair smelled like airplane and the cheap rum that spilled all over the place when the plane got to a bit of turbulence.
And why, out of all the hire cars, did her father have to choose a subcompact? The trip up the congested, road work filled M40 was longer, and more uncomfortable than she expected it to be. David sat huddled next to her, trying to get himself comfortable with his long legs.
"I'm pretty sure we've made it to Oxford. We're almost -" Her father touched the GPS on the screen, which led him to a blown up map. "We're on a one-lane road. How do people even drive on these roads?"
"Dad, we live in New York. You should be used to tight roads by now. David, do you have any idea where we are right now?"
"I'm not sure, really. The last time I came to Ravensdale was a really long time ago. Like when my mom was still alive. Sorry, Dora. No help here."
"Dad, really. Just look at the GPS, it'll help you out. Can't you just zoom out of the map?"
"Yeah, but it's not gonna help. Not when you're in the middle of nowhere and you can't find where you're supposed to go. Wait, this stupid piece of junk brought us all the way out here? Where the hell are we? We're supposed to be somewhat parallel to the M40." Nick groaned as he ran a quick hand through his hair.
Dora stopped. "Don't tell me we're lost."
"We're not lost. I have the destination marked!"
You probably did something wrong. Probably touched the wrong location.
"This is so like you, Dad. You're always getting us lost."
Her father gave Dora the side-eye and tight lips.
"We're lost," David said. "Just admit it, Mr. Harding. We're completely lost. I can't even begin to describe what's around us. Holy -"
She looked ahead, and there, with jaws of death, was a gargantuan combine harvester coming at them, no sign of stopping. Its loud horn was like trumpets of doom as all of them stared at the behemoth with wide eyes.
"Dad." Dora froze in her seat.
"Ah!" Her father was screaming. "What do I do? What do I do?"
She grabbed the car door handle and couldn't say a single word. Her life flashed before her eyes, as if watching a slow motion movie. Seconds seemed to become minutes. Goodbye, dear sweet life.
She closed her eyes, the music on the radio slowly fading away. When she opened her eyes, everything had stilled. Where were they now? After everything processed, she realized that her father had made it into a grass bank on the side of the road.
"Dad," Dora said, her voice low and hushed. "You could have gotten us killed!"
He sat there in silence, looking straight ahead as he breathed deeply. It was worrisome to Dora that he would be so quiet. She turned, looking at David to see his reaction.
"David," she asked. "You okay?"
He was breathing heavily, still clutching with his dear life onto the oh shit handles.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Harding, but driving with you is a complete nightmare."
Her father stared at David for more than a few seconds.
Oh, David. You shouldn't have said that. And here it goes. . .
"You think driving with me is a complete nightmare? Then why don't you try driving if you're so good at it. And don't call me Mr. Harding. You know I hate that!"
"Sorry," David said. "Force of habit."
He then muttered something under his breath that sounded like, "I can call you Mr. Harding if I want to."
"I heard that!" Her father pointed a finger at David before turning to look at the road.
What did I get myself into? I'm sandwiched in between these two.
"Pay attention to the road, Dad!" Dora said.
He exhaled sharply. "Don't backseat drive. The offer still stands. If any of you think you can drive better than me, go ahead and do it. We're not going to make it to the gala at this rate. GPS is a pain in my ass. What happened to good, old fashioned maps? This thing shows us the worst routes."
The computerized female voice said, "Turn left at Ashdown Lane. In one mile, turn left at Ashdown Lane."
Her father grumbled. "Turn left at Ashdown Lane. Turn left at Ashdown Lane. I heard you the first time. I'm not an idiot."
"Dad, calm down. It's just a precaution."
He slouched his shoulders. "Sorry if I'm embarrassing you in front of your friend. I just hate these things."
"Well, we would be lost without it."
He chuckled, half-smiling. "We're lost already. Poor, poor David, you have to put up with our antics. You sure you're okay with travelling with a couple of silly gooses?"
David laughed heartily, and Dora noticed the way his eyes lit up as he smiled. "Better than sucking up to dull stuffed shirts in Ohio. This is definitely an adventure."
Yeah, I guess it is an adventure of sorts, nearly getting killed like that.
It didn't take the long to get onto the route that led to Ravensdale. The sun was beginning to set, a deep orange at the sky's edge. The bit of open field and cattle began to lose it's novelty after several miles, but there was something about the quaint solitude that made Dora feel more at ease.
"And this is Ravensdale, I assume." Her father nodded. "At least the sign says it's not for another couple of miles, but we're just outside of it."
They drove through the outskirts of the village. She saw people walking on the side of the road. A man leading a bunch of sheep with a stick along the road stopped as her father began to slow down, putting his foot on the brakes.
The shepherd gestured for them to go. Her father once and began to put his foot back on the gas.
After a while, the scenery began to change as spots of homes turned into rows of them. Kids playing in the fields, people walking on the side of the road, dressed warmly to fight the roaring wind that threatened to blow them away.
"This village is nice," her father said, pointing from the window. "Ravensdale is cute. I think we have time to stop and get ready for the gala. Dora, would you be a dear and check the lodging brochure for me?"
"Sure, but we have to meet up with Tilly Ravensdale. Yeah, I know, Dad. She's always afraid of you for some reason, but look. Just don't bite her okay? I know how you get."
He sighed, shaking his head. "I don't know why she's so afraid of me. I don't bite."
"You yell at computers. Hell, you even yell at flowers that don't grow right. She thinks yelling at flowers is bad for their health. Sorry, Dad."
He slumped his shoulders and shook his head. "Fine. I won't yell at flowers. You've got my word on that, okay?"
Dora opened the glove compartment and picked out the lodging brochure that she had put in as soon as they left the hire car store at Heathrow. She flipped through the pages until she found a place that looked like something her father would like.
"Uh, what about Franny's Cottage? It's a bed and breakfast. Picture's nice. Want to have a look?"
"Let me come to a stop somewhere and I'll check it out."
He pulled into an area that was far enough away from the road, and let another car pass. Dora handed him the brochure and he read over it.
He nodded once, smiling. "Looks lovely. Sure, why not?"
#
The mansion, Stanton Park, was massive as they drove up the path. The closer they got to it, the more intimidating it looked. Its Gothic spires pierced the sky that was beginning to darken with the fading sun. They were too late to go to the cottage, so they had to change their route to Stanton Park where the Titanic Gala was being held.
"David, this place is huge," she said.
"It is huge. Wow! I wonder what it looks like," he said, smiling. "Maybe it's the opposite of the Tardis and it's teeny tiny on the inside."
She rolled her eyes. "Only you would say something like that, David. You're such a Whovian."
"Hey, it's a big deal to me. I loved forcing you to watch it. I wish you were more into it, though."
"Not a fan. Sorry, Dave." Dora looked at herself in the mirror of the hire car, making sure that she looked presentable enough. She hated the fact that she was severely underdressed in a white-shirt and a pair of stonewashed jeans.
She knew her father, herself, and David were severely underdressed as she stepped out of the car, looking at all the people walking up the gravel walkway leading to the front door, which was massive and wide open.
"What have we gotten ourselves into?" she whispered to David. "Look at all these people. They look so elegant."
Her t-shirt and comfy jeans were hideous compared to the vast amount of ballgowns that sparkled like the light of a million suns. She walked slowly towards the front door. It was only then that she wished that her father hadn't got lost the second time around.
The man standing at the door look at all three of them with a hint of irritation in his eyes. "This is a very important private gala. It is invite only. No tourists today."
Inside of her was a raging fire. The way this person was looking at all of them made her want to scream. She brought out all three of the tickets from her handbag.
"I'm a friend of Tilly's," she said, as the man took the tickets from her hand.
"Tilly?" he furrowed a brow, frowning. "Who is that?"
"Tilly Ravensdale?"
"Oh, Matilda, you mean? Yes, she's in the ballroom, tending to some guests. Are you Dora? She said that an American girl and her friends would be coming tonight."
"Yes, that's us."
"All right, then. Enjoy the party."
All three of them walked away from the person taking the tickets and David smiled at Dora, winking at her. "If I didn't know any better, I would have thought that you were the star of the gala."
She looked up at him, and smiled. "Really? Uh, thanks I guess. But I have rum in my hair. I'm a mess. I don't even have a hint of makeup on."
"You'd still look stunning in a potato sack. You're the most stunning person here." He stroked her cheek with a finger.
Dora looked up at him, trying to find the right comeback, but she couldn't. A moment of silence passed between them and she turned around, noticing her father behind her.
"Hey kiddos!" Her father put his arm around Dora. "Ready to go in?"
David cleared his throat. "I suppose."
They followed the crowds of people walking into the large ballroom. It was brilliantly lit, with beautiful chandeliers. It was even more beautiful than walking into the Met and seeing the great displays of artwork. There was a vintage charm about the place that enchanted her. With each step she took, the world around her felt more and more disconnected. The smell of the place began to shift in a peculiar way. The sounds of boisterous conversation and glasses clinking together faded away until it seemed like there was nothing but her. If she closed her eyes and felt it hard enough, she could have sworn that she heard the clop, clop of horses' hooves on the gravel driveway outside the mansion and the accompanying sound of a whinnying neigh.
She opened her eyes when a loud voice came over the microphone. She felt a warm hand on her shoulder.
"Want a drink?" David asked.
"Yeah, sure. White wine."
"I'll be right back." He smiled.
He walked into the crowd, but with his leather denim jacket and faded jeans, he stuck out above the rest of them.
There was the screech of a microphone and Dora noticed someone at the stand. He was young and his tuxedo had no wrinkles.
"Evening, everyone. Welcome to the official annual gala of the Titanic Preservation Society. I'm Seth Ravensdale. A huge thanks to my great-uncle Edmund Ravensdale for his unrelenting efforts into making this happen. Wonderful that the gala should be held this year in Stanton Hall. It was 100 years ago that we lost the last Lord Stanton to the icy waters of the Atlantic along with Patrick Ravensdale, my other great-uncle. We will keep their memory alive in our hearts tonight as we continue on with this gala. Now some business." He rambled, drawling on about events and things that had no relevance to Dora.
"Boring speaker," David whispered in Dora's ear.
He handed her the glass of wine.
"Thanks," she took a sip of it, feeling the dry tannins dance on her tongue. "I think he's pretty handsome."
David nodded. "Yeah, uh, okay?"
"He is! Nothing wrong with appreciating someone's looks."
He smiled. "Well, am I handsome, then?"
Dora laughed, waving him off as she took another sip of wine. "You're just David."
"Well, I see." He nodded, then looked away
The speaker stopped, "My great-uncle will speak when he arrives. Good evening, all."
"I'm going to walk around. My legs need it," Dora said.
"Sure, go ahead." He smiled. "Enjoy this fancy party. I'm going to go sit down somewhere. I'm bored already. Where's all the Titanic stuff?"
"Why don't you take a look around then? Maybe it's in another room."
Dora walked around the ballroom, ignoring the eyes of those who looked at her and pointed. She could hear their whispers, their snickers, but she didn't care. She found somewhere to sit, an open table.
"Excuse me," a female voice said from behind her. "Are you a girl named Dora Harding?"
She turned to look around and saw Tilly standing there, greeting her with a smile. She drew her in for a quick hug.
"Lord, you look ravishing," she said. "In your t-shirt and jeans. You're the trendsetter of the evening. People have been talking about your adventurous sense of fashion."
Dora felt the heat rise up to her face and she scratched her neck. "We got lost twice and I didn't get a chance to change. We were going to go to Franny's Cottage to book a room."
"You can just get changed upstairs. You have your luggage still? Go get your dress and I'll make sure the man up front knows you're coming back in."
#
Dora took her last step up the grand staircase of Stanton Park and followed Tilly through the long corridor. She passed by rows of portraits.
"Is this your ex-husband's family?" she asked. "All of these people in the paintings?"
"Oh, Lord no. . This mansion does not belong to his family, actually. It belongs to no one. It belonged to Lord Stanton, you know Lord Stanton."
Dora shook her head. "I'm not really sure who you're talking about."
"The Duke of Stanton," she said, stopping dead in her tracks. "You know, right? Oh, bless. You didn't pay attention in history class? Lord Stanton, the man who saved all of those people on the Titanic before drowning."
"I'm afraid I don't know much about the Titanic. The only thing I know is that it sunk on April 15, 1912. I wish I knew more than that. I've only ever seen the movie with David."
She stifled a smile. "I'm assuming that David gave you lecture after lecture about the antiques on the ship."
"Something like that," Dora replied.
"And here we are," she said. "Get changed in here. I'll be downstairs."
Dora stepped inside the room and closed the door as Tilly's footsteps faded into a decrescendo. She took off her t-shirt and jeans, and looked at herself in the mirror only for a moment. She was already wearing a dress and her hair was pulled up into an updo, with a few strands of her hair falling down at her temples. What on earth was she seeing? She shook her head quickly and then she was back to normal, only in a bra and jeans.
With trembling hands, she took off her jeans, tossing them onto the bed. She grabbed her ruby-red dress and draped it over her body, grateful that her dress that she chose did not have any zippers. She threw her boots off and replaced them with her high-heels.
She caught David waiting at the end of the staircase, but there was something different about the way he looked as he seemed upset about something or other. Was he upset about her choice of dress? She caught him frowning, but then he quickly changed it to a smile.
“You look,” he said, pausing.
“I look what, David?”
“You look beautiful, Dora. I didn't expect you to get changed.” He closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath.
She placed a concerned hand over his arm. “You okay?”
He nodded; scratching the top of his head. “Doing okay, I’m just a little tired. I wasn’t planning on another trip to England, is all. Jet lag is wild. I don’t know why I’m so tired now, it’s like a little past noon in the states. Let’s go back to the party.”
He put his arm around her shoulder as they began to walk toward the ballroom. While she walked, she felt like she belonged there for the first time since her arrival. She blended in among the partygoers and felt as if she was floating on a cloud.
"Ah, there you are!" Tilly said walking up to her. "Oh, you look lovely. You clean up nicely. Your friend David is talking to my great-grandfather in law. He's almost 115 years old, you know. Still alive.
Dora watched the old man as she slowly came closer to him. His skin was almost translucent, his the vitality in his eyes faded. His white hair was just a few little wisps around his head.
"Mr. Edmund," Tilly said, putting a hand over his shoulder. "This is the girl I told you about. The one who works for me in New York."
"Wait," he said. "Stay still. Let me get a better look of her." His voice was hoarse and barely above a whisper.
Mr. Ravensdale laughed. "Funny, you look very much like someone I once knew a very long time ago."
"And who was that, sir?" she asked.
"Her name was Dora Harding."
She blinked several times, trying to process what she had just heard. Did he just say her name as ?
"B-but sir, I am Dora Harding."
ns 15.158.61.6da2
