“Night, Mrs. Herceforth, Miss Wilson.” He stepped aside and no one else bothered them as they approached Mrs. Herceforth’s carriage.
“Hop in, dear. I’m delighted to see you home, unless you have other arrangements?”
“Thank you,” Casey murmured, confused at the exchange, but stepping into the carriage. “It’s not far,” she told her as Mrs. Herceforth sat across from her. “I was going to walk.”
“Walk? Alone?” Mrs. Herceforth shook her head and tapped Casey on the knee with her parasol. “Lady Pirrie said you were a bit wild, but honestly, dear. Even in America, I don’t believe they allow their young ladies to wander the streets at night without escort.”
“No ma’am. I guess I just got used to wandering around as a boy. I keep forgetting. I’ll make sure my guardian picks me up from now on.”
“I take it you know our Mr. Sloan from the shipyard?”
Casey’s lips tightened in annoyance. “Yes ma’am. I’m afraid so.”
Mrs. Herceforth’s laugh filled the carriage. “Such a delicate way to put it! He does mean well, you know.”
Casey just raised her eyebrows, and Mrs. Herceforth sighed, folding her hands in her lap. “I suppose I should say that his heart is in the right place, although he is difficult to get along with, sometimes.”
“Do you think we should not include Catholic areas in the planned gardens?” Casey asked her.
The older woman looked troubled. “I think it would be best if they had their own chapter and did the work themselves. It’s so difficult for us to work with them.”
“But surely, they need to associate in some way with the main group? Would they need assistance to get started?”
“I imagine they would. But I think it’s best if Sir Plunkett handles that.” Her fingers tapped along her arms as she answered Casey. “It’s far too dangerous for the general membership to get involved. Ah. Here we are.”
Casey disembarked and turn to curtsey. “Thank you for the ride, ma’am. I look forward to seeing you at our next meeting.”
“I too, child. Ta!” She waved, as the driver clicked to horses, and the carriage moved smoothly down the street.
Chapter 15
February 1907
“Manager’s meeting scheduled for 9:00 a.m.,” Ham informed Tom first thing on a bright day in early February. “Lord Pirrie wants to see you at 8:45 sharp. I’ve already moved the schedule around to free up the time.”
Tom nodded, but glanced quizzically at the calendar. “I thought he wasn’t due in from London until Wednesday. Any idea what’s up?”
Ham’s raised eyebrows answered, Now why the heck would I know? as he handed Tom the morning’s reports, and went back to his letters. Tom sighed. These meetings could go on and on, and he had so much to do…
Still, 8:44 found him climbing the stairs in the “corridor of power” to his uncle’s panel-lined office. Lord Pirrie was positively jovial as he waved Tom into the leather visitor’s chair, finished signing a few papers for Saxon to mail, and then turned to look his nephew up and down appraisingly. Tom returned the look, one corner of his mouth turned up in a quizzical smile. No doubt about it, the old man was up to something.
“Well, Tom,” Pirrie began, “you’re wrapping up the work on Adriatic. She’s the last of the Big Four, and I have to tell you, I’m very pleased. Very pleased, indeed! We’re still on line for the maiden voyage on the eighth of May, yes?”
Tom nodded. “All set. We’re on the last bit of work for it. Painting is starting next week, cabinets and furnishings are due in after that. She’s in good shape.”
Pirrie leaned back in his padded chair, still with that appraising look, only now he looked like he’d swallowed the proverbial canary. What was he up to?
“Tom, we’re due for some changes around here. I’m setting up a board of Managing Directors to run the day-to-day operations. I’ll explain more about it in the meeting, but I want you to take one of those positions, in addition to your duties as Chief Designer.”
“You’ll be Managing Director, someday.” Tom swallowed against the voice in his head, trying desperately not to think about that now. How could Casey know about a position that had never existed before? Had she mentioned something to Aunt Marge during that tea, who then gave the idea to Uncle Will? Who was sitting across from him and waiting for a response. Tom hurried to answer.
“Wonderful! You know I’m honored and delighted to take it. There is so much we can do.”
“Ah, and we’ll do it all, Tommy. We had a rough year in 1906, but the economy’s improving, and I think we have a good chance of getting the place on solid footing. This will be a busy year, but I will also continue to need your help in many delicate matters as time goes by. Be prepared for me to call on you from time to time, as I have in the past, but keep in mind these tasks may need discretion. Can you do that?”
“Certainly, sir.” Tom had no problem with this. Lord Pirrie’s requests had sometimes required a bit of traveling, but this gave him the opportunity to develop contacts around the world, and he enjoyed the trips. He looked forward to this work.
Lord Pirrie had called in everyone he wanted to assign as a managing director. As Tom followed his uncle into the chairman’s conference room, he took the time to look them over. Nine men sat around the polished wood table, a few with cigars already lit. Most of them were old timers, like his cousin and boss, Alexander Carlisle. Mr. Kempster was there, of course, an outsider, but placed in a board position by Lord Pirrie to consolidate certain business deals. That still stung. Tom had felt he had a chance for that position, but his uncle had been extremely displeased over Tom’s stand on the Home Rule issue, feeling he didn’t quite have Tom’s full support for his run at parliament. The promotion had been the price. Still, Kempster had proven to be an astute accountant and businessman, and if the firm had not flourished greatly under his tenure, neither had it suffered.
Tom felt good about most of the other men and was especially pleased that his good friend, George Cummings, had been selected. He acknowledged George’s raised eyebrow with a small smile as he took his seat. They’d been friends since boyhood, and apprentices together as young men, and he liked to think they had what the company needed to carry on in the future.
It’s a good group. They’re all devoted to the firm. Even Kempster has a stake in our success. Cousin Alex is the only one who ever gives Uncle Will a hard time and I have to admit, he always knows what he’s talking about.
Tom had heard enough gossip to know the workers thought his uncle surrounded himself with men beholden to him, and that only Alexander Carlisle, who had come up in the firm from the beginning, alongside Lord Pirrie, had the freedom and gumption to choose his own way.
The light from the chandelier glittered off the brass handle of the cigar box making its way around the table, as Lord Pirrie laid out his new plan. They spent a few hours organizing the new structure and familiarizing themselves with new duties and reporting deadlines. Lord Pirrie, as usual, wanted to keep a tight rein on each department, and demanded frequent and detailed reports.
They had their usual work to do, as well, and Tom had little time to spare for the nagging worry that had tickled his mind in his uncle’s office that morning. So it was that he finished a long and exciting day, and as he settled his office preparatory to leaving for home, Casey’s voice suddenly came back to him. It was faint, just a whisper in his ear, but he pulled up short and stared at the papers in his hand. Managing Director… a ship called Titanic… he walked to the wall shelves and pulled out the drawing exercises his team had prepared after Casey left. He stood there holding the rolls for a while, then put them back without opening them. He didn’t need to see them. He remembered every detail; indeed, he’d drawn a lot of them himself.