You are reading my weekly serial When the Sea Was Still.
When the Sea Was Still is a historical novel inspired by Titanic survivor Helen Ostby. While the heroine of the story, Nora Osterly, is entirely fictional, her journey draws on the incredible life of Helen Ostby. After surviving the Titanic disaster and losing her father, Helen went on to help run the family jewelry business, Ostby & Barton, which required her to face the sea again for business in Europe. Remarkably, she found herself in Germany on the eve of the First World War.
The novel starts two years after the sinking of the Titanic, when Nora Osterly is forced to cross the Atlantic again—this time aboard Titanic’s nearly identical sister ship, the Olympic. To save her father’s legacy, Nora must do the one thing she swore she never would: return to the sea that nearly killed her.
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A Walk with Étienne
Nora
26 July 1914
Paris
The day after Étienne revealed what her father’s partnership had meant to Maison Moreau, Nora had received a letter from him that quite surprised her. She had left the atelier still absorbing his account of the flood, his father’s death, and, most troubling of all, what he had inadvertently disclosed to Mr. Cartwright. She had not expected anything more to occupy her thoughts so soon.
She had opened his letter anticipating news from the atelier or perhaps an update on the postponed commissions. Instead, she found a message of an altogether different nature.
Mademoiselle Osterly,
I was glad, as always, to see you yesterday, and I hope I did not burden you by speaking so freely.
I find myself wishing to ask you something that has nothing to do with sapphires or settings, though I confess I have hesitated to take such a liberty. Would you do me the honor of joining me for a stroll in the Luxembourg Gardens on Sunday afternoon? I seek only the pleasure of your company, which I have come to value more than I perhaps ought to say in a letter.
If Sunday does not suit you, I am entirely at your convenience.
Yours,
Étienne
Nora had read the letter twice before setting it down, unsure how to feel about his overture. Over the past few weeks, she had felt a closeness growing between them, but this was the first time he had spoken of a desire to see her for pleasure. Until now, their relationship had stayed safely inside the familiar boundaries of their partnership.
She had spent the better part of the day going back and forth over whether or not to accept. Accepting meant admitting to something she had not yet fully admitted to herself. Declining would have been the more sensible course. With so much uncertainty at the moment, it seemed almost imprudent. She had reminded herself of this at least three times before luncheon, and again while dressing for the promenade. Yet the reminders did not seem to help. Each time she pictured herself walking beside Étienne under the chestnut trees, she found herself smiling, and each time she caught herself at it, she felt faintly ridiculous. By late afternoon, she had written to say that Sunday suited her very well.
The sound of the sitting-room door pulled Nora from her thoughts. Astrid walked in with the morning paper in her hands, and by the look on her face, she hadn’t been reading the latest news of Madame Caillaux. Events across Europe seemed to worsen with each passing day. Nora wondered what had happened now.
Astrid approached the writing desk where Nora sat. “Good morning, dear.”
She laid the paper on the desk. “I’m afraid there is troubling news out of Belgrade. Austria-Hungary has broken off diplomatic relations with Serbia.”
Nora tried to recall what she had read last about the dispute between the two countries. “That does sound troubling. Austria had threatened war if Serbia did not agree to its demands, if I remember correctly.”
“Yes, that’s right. And Serbia has now ordered its army to mobilize.” Astrid frowned.
Nora picked up the paper and scanned the article.
“If Russia steps in to protect Serbia, Germany may take Austria-Hungary’s side,” Astrid continued. “Since France is allied with Russia, France could then be pulled into the war too.”
“That is a great deal of ifs,” Nora said.
“Perhaps, but I would rather not remain in Paris long enough to see how many of them prove true.”
Nora sighed. The paper spoke of armies mobilizing, but surely Astrid’s fear that Europe’s alliances would eventually draw France into the quarrel was not a true threat. Yet Astrid was convinced the danger was real. Nora set the paper back on the desk.
“Surely this confirms we must return home,” Astrid continued, gazing out the window. “I fear it is no longer safe here.”
Nora rose from her chair and joined her at the window. “I assure you, Astrid, I do not take the matter lightly. But it is not so simple.”
Astrid said nothing, keeping her eyes fixed on the gardens outside.
“No war has been declared. It is a lot of speculation at this point,” Nora continued. “I am not yet prepared to make a decision.”
Astrid finally took her eyes off the gardens and looked at Nora.
“You came here to settle your father’s business. I know how much it means to you to finish what he began.”
“And it is not yet finished,” Nora said. “Matters at Maison Moreau remain unsettled, and I still do not know what Mr. Cartwright intends.”
“I understand that, dear,” Astrid said. “I also understand that you do not want to fail your father. But he would want you to be safe first and foremost. You always meant far more to him than Osterly & Co. ever did.”
Nora’s throat tightened at the mention of her father. She hadn’t considered that her hesitation to leave was rooted in her fear of disappointing him. “I’m afraid I couldn’t bear to let him down again,” she said quietly.
Astrid stared at her. “My dear, you have never let him down.”
“But I have.”
Nora took a deep breath, unsure if she could say what she needed to say next.
“I should have stopped him from going below that night. I should have waited for him before I entered the boat,” she continued then quickly wiped away the tear that escaped. “Instead, I left without him.”
“You did as he asked. You could not have known that he would not return.” Astrid took both of Nora’s hands in her own. “You did not fail him that night, and you have not failed him since. I trust you will make the right decision now.”
Nora gave her a small, grateful smile. She wished she could accept Astrid’s reassurance as easily as it had been offered.
Later that morning, Nora and Astrid attended their regular Sunday service at Holy Trinity, taking their places among the impeccably dressed expatriates. The organ filled the nave with luminous music, and Nora sang along with the familiar English hymns. Twice she lost her place when her thoughts strayed to her afternoon walk with Étienne. Beside her, Astrid did not seem to notice, and Nora was grateful.
After an elegant luncheon at the Crillon, Nora and Astrid returned to their suite. At last it was time for Nora to dress for her walk in Luxembourg Gardens. She changed out of the navy tailored dress she had worn to church and found herself choosing her favorite pale blue silk trimmed in lace, then attached her mother’s diamond bar pin at the collar with extra care. She gave herself an appraising look in the mirror, satisfied with the way the shade of her dress set off her auburn hair and brought out the blue in her eyes.
Once dressed, Nora found Astrid in the sitting room seated at one end of the settee absorbed in a book. She looked up as Nora entered, her eyes flitting over the pale blue dress.
“You look especially lovely this afternoon. I see you’ve taken extra care for your walk with Monsieur Moreau,” she said.
“I have taken no more care than I would for any afternoon in the Luxembourg Gardens.”
Astrid’s gaze settled on the diamond pin. “Of course. And your favorite silk was merely the first dress at hand.”
Nora reached for her gloves, unable to suppress a smile. “You are enjoying this far too much.”
Astrid simply returned Nora’s smile, but her look said everything.
“It is only a walk,” Nora said, feeling suddenly defensive.
“I said nothing to the contrary.”
“No, but your expression did.”
Astrid set down her book and joined Nora by the door. “My expression said nothing, dear. Now go and enjoy your walk.”
Nora relaxed and gave Astrid a quick hug before leaving.
Once outside the hotel, a footman escorted her to a waiting carriage and helped her inside. As they passed the fountains of the Place de la Concorde, Nora’s anticipation began to grow. She looked out the window, hoping the familiar sights of Paris would ease her anxiety, and watched the columned façade of the Palais Bourbon give way to the Haussmann buildings that lined Boulevard Saint-Germain. They were getting close.
Soon, the Luxembourg Palace came into view at the end of the street, and a rush of nervous excitement surged through her. When the carriage stopped outside the garden gates, she took a deep breath and adjusted her diamond bar pin before accepting the driver’s hand. As she entered the gardens, she saw Étienne waiting just inside.
He looked handsome as ever in a light grey linen suit and straw boater hat. He smiled when he saw her. Seeing him in this serene setting disarmed her more than usual, his dark eyes somehow more intense, his smile somehow more charming. He greeted her with his customary kiss on each cheek and she blushed right on cue.
“Bonjour, Nora. You look lovely,” he said, his gaze lingering on her briefly with admiration. “I am very glad you came.”
“Thank you. I was pleased to be asked.” Her cheeks still felt warm.
He smiled again and offered his arm. “Shall we walk?”
“I should like that very much,” she replied, accepting his outstretched arm.
They began walking along a broad gravel path beneath the shade of the chestnut trees. Around them, other couples strolled leisurely through the gardens while children chased one another across the lawns. Nora became conscious of how different this felt from their time together at Maison Moreau. With her arm looped through his and no gemstone waiting to be studied or sketch lying between them, she felt a current run through her.
As they continued to stroll along the wide path, their conversation came easily. They started in familiar territory, but soon wandered past topics of gemstones and commissions to books they had read and places they hoped to visit. Gradually, Nora’s self-consciousness faded and she felt more at ease in Étienne’s company than she had felt with anyone in quite some time.
Before long, they reached the Medici Fountain, its long basin of water reflecting the trees above in a ribbon of green glass. At its head, the bronze giant Polyphemus stood ready to strike down two lovers cast in white marble, a myth of doomed love Nora found a heartless choice to preside over a garden meant for courting couples.
“I’ve always thought it strange how beautiful the grotto is from a distance,” she said. “Then, as you come closer, you realize the scene itself is rather grim.”
Étienne followed her gaze to the great bronze statue looming over the lovers. “I quite agree. I doubt Marie de Médicis had such a scene in mind when she commissioned it.”
“No,” Nora said. “That particular cruelty came later, when Haussmann’s work forced the grotto to be moved.”
“Perhaps there is some comfort in knowing that the grotto survived at all,” Étienne said.
“And in the process, Paris has gained another story to tell.”
They came upon a bench in the shade between two sycamore trees, facing the long basin of the fountain. Nora tilted her head upward to take in the full height of the large trees.
“May we sit for a moment?” she asked him. “I have something I would like to tell you.”
Étienne looked somewhat surprised. “Of course.”
He motioned toward the bench and waited while she smoothed her skirts before taking his place beside her.
“Nothing has been decided,” Nora began. “It is something I have been weighing.”
The concern in his expression made the words more difficult than she had expected.
“I have received an invitation to sail home aboard the Philadelphia with Mr. and Mrs. Harroway. They have cut their holiday short because of the growing unrest. Astrid is urging me to return with them. I thought you ought to know.”
Étienne reached for her hand.
“I confess I should be very sorry to see you go,” he said. “But I understand. It is a difficult time to be in Europe.”
“Yes, increasingly so,” she said. “Though leaving so soon was not part of my plans.”
“Then my hope is that you will decide to stay.”
Nora simply smiled at him while her heart fluttered at his words. He held her hand a moment longer before releasing it.
“Let us speak of happier things.” Étienne stood and offered his arm. “The afternoon is too fine, and your company too agreeable, not to enjoy it.”
His charm was undeniable. In that moment, she couldn’t imagine leaving Paris at all, let alone leaving as soon as the eighth of August. They walked arm in arm, seemingly no different from the handful of other couples they passed. They fell back into easy conversation, and for the rest of the afternoon, her troubles were forgotten.
Once back at the gates, Étienne gently raised her gloved fingers to his lips.
“I do hope to see you again soon, Nora,” he said, his dark eyes locked on hers. He still held her hand in his.
“As do I, Étienne.”
And she meant it more than she would have believed possible only days earlier. Through her glove, she remained conscious of where his lips had touched her. She made no move to withdraw her hand.
They lingered at the gates a little longer, neither in a hurry to bring the afternoon to an end. Finally, Étienne helped Nora into a waiting carriage. He stepped back and lifted his hat in farewell as the carriage pulled away. On the way back to the Crillon, Nora replayed the afternoon in her mind and smiled to herself.
