Page 114 of Haunting the Deep

They all watch me, waiting for the story of my engagement.

“But I thought you had the grippe.” The word sticks in my mouth with its foreignness. I look over my shoulder.

“Well, I…I am quite well.” His eyebrows furrow.

“Do you remember when you got married?” I ask my aunt. “After you bought your first home near Gramercy Park? How you had that painting commissioned of the two of you?”

Aunt Myra puts her sherry down. “Yes, of course.”

“Do you remember talking to me about it in theattic? My attic in Salem?”Please, Myra. Remember.

“The attic, dear?” Her confusion deepens.

“It was just a couple of days ago,” I say quickly. “You were looking for Uncle Harry.”

“Well, that does seem a little familiar.” She hesitates. “No, it could not have been a couple of days ago. We were in Europe. I am not sure I know what you are trying to ask me. Does this have to do with your proposal?”

“I’m not engaged!” I say too forcefully. They all stare at me uncomfortably.

“She was just waiting for me to tell the story,” Matt says behind me.

My legs tense.

He stops next to me and smiles, big and bright. Alexander Jessup I is with him. I take a small step backward.

“Alexander, you’re limping,” Mr. Stead says to Matt, and they all rattle off their concerns.

He holds up his hands. “I am quite well.” Matt turns his smile to me. There is something else in his eyes, anger smoldering right under the surface. “It is an incredible story, actually. You would notbelievehow sweet Samantha is. When I got down on my knee and asked her, she said yes and fainted straight off. She fell right onto me with her glass of sherry. I sustained a small cut, but nothing to be concerned over.”

They gasp.

“Of course, I caught her before she hit the floor. And she was not hurt, which is all that matters.”

There are approving murmurs from the group.

“She wept when she came to, seeing me bleeding like that.”

What is he doing?“I didnothinglike that.” My voice is barely controlled.

“Do not be embarrassed by romance, Samantha. It is one of the best things about human nature,” Mrs. Brown says with kindness in her voice.

My hands clench into fists. How dare he manipulate me.

“And I willnottell you what happened after that,” Matt says with twinkling eyes. “Because if Samantha feels shy about the fainting, she will absolutely feel shy about this.”

Everyone makes agreeing sounds like it’s all just so perfect.

“But I’m afraid the whole evening gave her quite a shock. She has not been herself since. I think she is in much need of rest,” Matt says with fake concern. “You lovely people don’t mind if I steal her once more?”

They look at me like I’m some poor frail girl and Matt’s so wonderful. Even Mollie examines me more closely, like what Matt said might be true.

My heart beats a mile a minute.You filled my world with theTitanic,Matt. Now watch me use it against you.

I focus on Mrs. Brown. “You wondered how I knew so much about you the other night; you called me your fan. I am. The world is. At least, they are now, in the twenty-first century.” She opens her mouth to say something, but I keep talking before she can get a word out. “You were born in a cottage near the Mississippi River. You didn’t want to marry your husband, J.J., at first because he wasn’t rich, and you wanted to be able to give your father a better life. But you changed your mind and decided to follow your heart. And it all worked out. J.J. was smart and ambitious. And when youdidhave money, you did the most amazing things for women and children. You made your life count by always giving to and doing for others. And when theTitanicstarted sinking, you helped passengers into lifeboats. You helped row your own lifeboat, and you were one of the ones who fought to go back and save the drowning passengers who were screaming for help. Much later, the newspapers nicknamed you the Unsinkable Molly Brown. But they were wrong. No one ever called youMolly; your nicknamewasandisMaggie.”

Matt’s hand wraps around my arm. I try to pull it back, but I can’t without making a scene. And I need to look rational right now. Alexander I takes a step toward me.

Mrs. Brown’s eyebrows rise, and the color drains from her face. “How could you possibly know those personal things about me?”