Free Titanic: The Long Night by Diane Hoh Page B

the mirrored vanity. As if Elizabeth hadn’t spoken, she mused aloud, “I wonder if I could hire one of those third-class girls to act as our maid for the rest of the trip.” Removing her diamond-and-pearl earrings, she added, “You would think one of them would be delighted with such an opportunity, wouldn’t you?”
    Though Elizabeth was tired from the guided tour and her legs ached from climbing various staircases in high heels, she jumped to her feet. “Oh, yes, Mother! How generous to allow one of those girls to fetch and carry for us.”
    Without turning around, her mother said, “Elizabeth, I will not have you speaking to me this way. Please leave. Go to your own cabin. Once there, you might reflect for just a bit on how fortunate you are to be traveling first class.” A brittle quality Elizabeth knew well crept into her mother’s voice. “You might also reflect on just who is responsible for your good fortune. Please don’t come back here until your attitude has improved.”
    Glad to be dismissed, Elizabeth left, careful not to slam the door.
    But she didn’t stay in her own cabin. Instead, she decided to seek out the gymnasium. If unescorted women were permitted to use the equipment, perhaps she could work off some of her anger on one of the exercise machines she’d heard about.

Chapter 8
    Thursday, April 11, 1912
    The gymnasium was uncrowded. In the middle of the afternoon on such a nice day, most passengers seeking fitness preferred to stride briskly around the decks and breathe in the ocean air.
    A middle-aged woman in a long, dark skirt and striped blouse was sitting a bit awkwardly on a machine unfamiliar to Elizabeth. It resembled a camel. An older, balding gentleman was using a rowing machine, and a woman with a broad face was pedaling a stationary bicycle, her cheeks red with effort. Elizabeth saw no sign of the instructor she’d been told would be available. The red-faced woman informed her that he had “stepped out” briefly.
    Unwilling to sit around doing nothing while she waited, Elizabeth decided to tackle one of the machines on her own. She often rode her own bicycle through Central Park at home. How different could a stationary bicycle be?
    Not so different, she decided as she climbed on, and she would have been fine had it not been for the length and fullness of her skirt. Had she been wearing the latest fashion, a hobble skirt that forced a woman to walk as if her ankles were chained together, Elizabeth would have been unable to even think about approaching one of the machines. She believed that her own fuller skirt had enough room for negotiation. It did. But as she swung herself up onto the seat, the hem of her skirt caught on a pedal and stuck there, jerking Elizabeth suddenly sideways and causing her to topple off the seat.
    She cried out in surprise as she fell, landing on her left side on the floor, her left leg and ankle still suspended in midair by the imprisoned skirt hem. The ankle twisted viciously as she hit the floor, and she cried out again, this time in pain.
    The two women and the man hurried to her side. Before Elizabeth could answer their queries as to her condition, Max and Lily suddenly appeared in the doorway. They, too, rushed over to Elizabeth. Lily swiftly freed the skirt, carefully holding onto Elizabeth’s ankle so as not to jolt it unduly, and gently brought it to rest on the floor.
    The pain was fierce. Elizabeth had to bite her lower lip to keep from crying out again, something she did not want to do in Max’s presence. Lily’s, either. She would show both of them that she had some backbone. She wouldn’t mouth a word of complaint until she was safely back in her cabin. Then she’d bawl her eyes out if she still felt the need.
    Lily and Max knelt by her side. “I do not think it is broken,” Lily announced, her fingers gently, carefully probing the injured ankle.
    Max said, “I think she’ll be just fine. But just in case, I’m going to take her