Hidden Agenda

Hidden Agenda

Suzanne Marsh

Mary Higgins slipped quietly into the room of Peter Brady, the richest man in Queenstown, Ireland. She was tired of being his scullery maid; she wanted so much more from life. She pictured herself as an aristocratic woman, dressed in fine silk dresses, the most expensive patent leather shoes, her hair done in the latest fashion. Peter would provide her with the funds; once she had the jewels, she planned to buy a first-class ticket on the Titanic. The cost of the first-class suite was $4350 in American dollars. It had occurred to her that she was going first class in a suite since she had over a million dollars worth of jewelry. She quietly slipped back out of the room, her pockets full of jewels. She strode the ticket offices of the White Star Line, purchased a ticket, and asked her name. She informed the ticket agent her name was Margaret Bradley, she was an American-born socialite. She went to see a friend of hers, a dressmaker by trade. Handing the friend a large pearl for hurrying the order. The following morning, PS America took over several passengers, Margaret Bradley among them.

Her blue eyes widened as she took in all the luxury in first class, and she was politely escorted to her cabin suite off of B deck. For the first time in her life, she felt special, the socialite, the attractive young woman in B49. Titanic left Roches Point anchorage at 1:30pm on 11 April; she anchored there long enough to take on passengers. Margaret could feel the ship moving off into the horizon; the was azure blue, it was beautiful. Her first night, she sat at the Captain’s table, an honor by most standards. She knew that this voyage was one to remember. She strode toward the Parisian Cafe. Oh, how lovely it was. She sat down, ordered her meal, and a very handsome man approached her table:

“Hello, may I sit with you?” Margaret nodded her assent as he continued to speak:

“You look so lost and alone, I thought perhaps I could help. My name is George Brown, Father

George Brown. What is your name?”

Margaret stuttered: “M-maragret B-bradley, I, I am from Queenstown, Ireland, pleased to meet you.”

She was genuinely pleased. He was young like her, she could never ask him to break his vows, but they could have fun on board. They ordered their meals, they laughed, and George was drawn to this beautiful socialite. Her red hair tied with a white ribbon, her green eyes sparkled as she laughed. She needed a better class of friends who were better than a priest, who respected his vows. Margaret was so pleased with the changes she was making in her life; thanks to Peter Brady, she would have to continue the charade while on board this ship. She hoped to meet other young people her age; she wanted prominence in this world, and she was now a lady instead of a cheap scullery maid. She kept gloves on most of the time to hide her profession from others on the ship.

Peter Brady awoke with a hangover. He groaned and rolled over in bed; he was alone. He remembered Mary Higgins sleeping beside him, where was that damn scullery maid? He wanted breakfast in bed, as was his custom. He rang and rang for her, but there was no response. He was now fully awake, and he began to look around the room. Something was different. He realized his crystal-cut clock was missing, as was his sapphire ring, his diamond stick pin, and his diamond signet ring. He rose out of bed and ran toward the small chest where he kept other jewels and some gold pieces; everything was gone, worth over a million dollars, and his heart sank. He knew Mary Higgins was a cunning individual; he called the police, filed charges, but no one knew where Mary had gone. He had to find her; she had taken all that mattered to him.

Margaret Bradley stood silently at the rail, the weather was getting cold by the moment; she felt refreshed somehow. She had been on the ship for two days and was still in awe of the size and the luxury. Her days as a scullery maid were over; she was now a socialite, and money oozed like fine wine. Margaret felt a presence next to her, there was George:

“Margaret, why aren’t you in your cabin? It is so cold out here. I have an idea, let's go to

the Cafe Parisian and have some Hot Chocolate. It will warm us both up.” Margaret smiled

at George; she wondered how a priest could understand so many things without asking; most men had to ask. George was “black Irish,” his hair was black with the most beautiful blue eyes, if he were a priest, she would have pursued him to great lengths, but he was a priest.

The following morning, after several cups of Hot Chocolate, she awoke to George in her bed. How did that happen? She did not remember that there was some extra in the Hot Chocolate. George began to stir. He looked up at her in surprise:

“Margaret, you don’t have any clothes on; then he realized neither did he.” He spoke quietly:

“Margaret, I am not a priest yet, I want to marry you; make you an honest woman of you.” This was what she had been waiting for; the reason she stole Peter Brady’s fortune: She smiled.

“Yes, George, I will marry you when we dock in New York City.” George smiled as he held her hand. Early in the evening of April 14 George and Margaret went to the main dining room in first class to celebrate their engagement. They retired to Margaret’s suite early, made love then dozed off. At eleven forty that evening, the Titanic struck an iceberg, and Margaret woke George:

“I just heard a very odd noise, like fingernails scraping on a chalkboard.” George climbed out of bed, noting that the engines had stopped:

“Come here, Margaret, let’s see what has happened: we will dress and go down to C deck, someone will know something of that, I am sure.” Margaret did as she was told; she put warm clothes on, as did George. They strode hand in hand around the deck. A steward was approaching, George called out to him:

“What has happened? Why are we stopping?” The steward, not wishing to alarm them, simply told them that there was a small engine problem and they would be underway shortly again. George was worried when he saw lifeboats being swung over the sides:

“Margaret, look, they are putting the lifeboats over the side, that does not happen unless it

Is it something serious?” He held her as she shivered and cried; her fairy tale was ending. She turned to face George:

“George, I have something I must confess to you, my real name is Mary Higgins, and I stole over

a million dollars worth of jewels and gold from my employer. Perhaps this is God’s way

of punishing me.” Suddenly, George let out a sigh of relief:

“Margaret, my name is not George Brown, I am no more a priest than the man in the moon.

I did not steal anything, but I am a wanted man. I was part of Sean Finn. We planted

several bombs, blowing up a general. If we both make it off the Titanic, we have a great deal

to look forward to.” Stewards were now informing first-class passengers that the lifeboats

were being loaded and to please remain calm. “Women and children first,” the steward stated politely. George stepped back, and then he saw a black shawl sitting on a bench. he grabbed it, jumped into the lifeboat with Margaret. The water was so cold, George held her hands in his, then he began to help row away from the “unsinkable” Titanic, which was sinking by the bow.

The morning of April 15, 1912 Titanic disappeared below the surface of the Atlantic Ocean. Fifteen hundred lives were lost.