I was dumbfounded. Who did she think she was, Queen Victoria? Surely, I thought, they can’t all be like her. There were a couple of young ones who looked as if they were holding back tears. I knew if it was my husband being left to fend for himself on a sinking ship, I’d have been beyond comfort. As it was, I wanted to cry for Robert. I supposed he’d be expected to go down with the ship. Such a lovely lad he was, and if it wasn’t for him, I might be drowning down in steerage at that minute.

I wasn’t one for prayers, but I bowed my head and said one for Delia, one for Robert and one for myself.

After a while, the stream of women being eased down into the boat stopped. It was only half full. I thought the crewmen would go and look for more women who might have been too frightened to come out to the deck, or maybe even maids who thought it wasn’t their place to step into the boat with their mistresses. But I hadn’t counted on the selfishness of the women around me.

“What are we waiting for?” called one. “There are no more women in line. We need to lower the boat now!”

I could hardly believe my ears. Without thinking, I turned toward them. “But we’re only half full!” I shouted. “We have room for two dozen more women.”

My words were met with silence and more than a few dirty looks. It was obvious to them, and to me, that I didn’t belong to their class. One woman spread out her gown, taking up two seats, and sighed.

“I would so hate to have this crushed. It’s brand new from Harrods.”

I bit my lip. If I said any more, they might insist that I leave the boat because I clearly didn’t belong with them. But inside I was seething. How could I ever have admired these stuck-up bitches? I thought, remembering how impressed I had been with them in the first-class dining room. God, was that only this morning?