“Let’s just clear one thing up before we go back inside,” Henry said, his face unreadable. Shelley nodded, swallowing anxiously as she wondered what he was about to say.
“If you have any more nightmares, you must come and wake me immediately,” he said, his smile returning. “If, however, I wake to find you in my bed, I can only assume you need your bottom warmed. That is certainly not the behaviour of a young lady. Do you understand me?” Henry’s tone was sterner now, as he raised his eyebrows and looked directly at her.
Shelley nodded and scowled, quickly turning her back on him to hide her blushes. She shrieked when, without warning, he reinforced his point with a sharp smack to her bottom as he guided her into their room. Shelley’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Now get to bed and get some sleep,” he gently scolded, as he led her into her bedroom.
* * *
Shelley chatted to Clara for a little while before she settled down in her bed. When she closed her eyes, she immediately thought about her parents. She knew that sometime in the not-too-distant future, she would be able to contact them. Hopefully they would be pleased that she had managed to shape her own future and find her own happiness. They might even be proud when she showed them that she had the ability to make her own way in the world.
Shelley also thought about Henry and his beautiful little daughter. She dreamed of what the future might hold for them all. She hoped Henry would not be too angry when the time came for her to confide in him about her family back in England, and the situation that led to her fleeing her home.
She then recalled Henry’s soft kiss during an innocent game of tag. She smiled and closed her eyes as she imagined his soft lips pressed against hers. She then wondered once more what it would feel like to be properly kissed by a man, especially one such as Henry who was very attractive. As she tried to imagine this, Shelley smiled and shuddered with pleasure.
“Clara, have you ever been kissed by a man… I mean, properly kissed?”
Clara gasped loudly. “No, of course not! Why? Have you?”
Shelley grinned. “No. Not yet!”
The two girls giggled, quietening down when Jessica stirred. “Goodnight,” whispered Clara.
“Mmm, goodnight,” responded Shelley, closing her eyes and pressing her lips against her pillow, opening her mouth and pretending she was kissing Henry.
Eventually Shelley drifted off into a peaceful sleep. For the first time since boarding the Carpathia, nightmares did not spoil her dreams. Instead she pictured herself walking hand in hand along a beach with Henry. She purred blissfully in her sleep as he stopped only to share a passionate kiss with her.
When Shelley woke the next morning, her dream fresh in her mind, she smiled brightly. One day, she thought.
Chapter Eight
Shelley felt a little numb when they finally arrived in New York on April 18, 1912. Although her fears about being at sea had lessened slightly, she was extremely relieved to be able to get off the ship and feel solid ground under her feet once more. Now she wanted nothing more than to walk away from her first ocean voyage, travel to Henry’s home, and start her new life.
As they disembarked the Carpathia, Shelley was immediately overcome by the sombre crowd waiting to greet them, in complete contrast to the cheering masses that had waved them off in Southampton just over a week ago. This time the assembled gathering anxiously waited for their loved ones, and many women howled in sorrow at the discovery that their family were on a list of missing, presumed dead.
Shelley gripped Clara’s hand as they followed closely behind Henry. He carried his young daughter in his arms as they made their way slowly, and with some difficulty, through the hordes. When they finally emerged into open space, where they could breathe easily once more, Henry lowered Jessica to the floor. The toddler instantly grabbed Clara’s hand.
Shelley spotted an older, very smartly dressed man with a peaked cap quickly approaching them. He greeted Henry warmly, shook his hand, and slapped him on the back. After staring in disbelief for a moment, he stepped forward and pulled Henry into a hug.
“We’re so pleased you made it,” the man said. He looked a little flustered as he quickly released Henry from his tight embrace, stepped back, and apologised. “Welcome home, sir.”
Henry smiled and nodded. “Jennings, this is our new maid, Shelley,” he announced, touching Shelley’s shoulder gently. The man’s round face broke into a huge grin and he hugged Shelley enthusiastically. “Very pleased to meet you,” he greeted her.
Henry turned to Clara. “This is Clara. She’s Jessica’s nanny. She’ll be sharing a room with Shelley.”
As Jennings hugged Clara in greeting, Shelley laughed at Jessica, who grasped the man’s trouser leg and tugged it sharply. “And me,” squealed the toddler, holding her arms out to the big man as he released her nanny. He smiled brightly and leaned down to pick Jessica up. He hugged her affectionately, and Shelley saw tears glistening in his eyes as he kissed her cheeks. Jessica giggled and kissed his cheeks too, before wrapping her arms around him and squeezing tightly. Shelley felt she was intruding on the family’s reunion, but couldn’t tear her eyes away. Jennings blinked back tears and smiled, before finally sighing deeply as he turned to Shelley and Clara. Jessica clung tightly to him, refusing to let go.
“I’m Henry’s driver,” he told them, beckoning them to follow him. The small group headed away from the dock, Jessica carried in Jennings’ arms while Henry walked beside him. Jessica took his driver’s cap off and put it on her own head. It was way too big for her and she had to tip her head right back and grip onto the sides of the hat to be able to see Shelley and Clara, who walked behind them.
Despite the melancholy mood, Shelley couldn’t hold back a smile when they approached a green and black four-seat car. Her father had insisted on having a practical car, and therefore Shelley had been frustrated when she was unable to persuade him to get an open-topped model.
She recalled how Lord Frederick had looked at her like she was mad as he completed the purchase of his much beloved Austin a few months earlier.
“I like your car,” Shelley grinned.
Henry patted the paintwork of the car affectionately. “She’s my Aero Speedster,” he told Shelley proudly. “She’s very temperamental, a bit like a woman,” he laughed, “but I love my old Bessie.”
Henry opened the car door and helped Shelley and Clara into the back seat. Jennings passed Jessica over to Clara, and the little girl giggled when she sat on her nanny’s knee and snuggled up to her. “I love Daddy’s car,” she grinned. “Come on, Mr Toad, poop, poop,” Jessica squealed with delight, leaning forward and putting Jennings’ cap back onto his head.
Henry laughed and turned around to face the girls in the back seat. “Jessica’s favourite book at the moment is The Wind in the Willows,” he explained. “But I’ve told her Mr Toad isn’t a very nice name to call poor Jennings.” Henry looked at Jessica with mock sternness.
Jessica grinned at Clara before she yelled once more, “Poop poop, Mr Toad.” They all laughed as Jennings blasted the horn twice before starting the car.
Jennings drove the short distance to Henry’s home, chatting to his boss throughout the trip. Shelley closed her eyes and tipped her head back. She thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of the wind in her hair, and felt she didn’t have a single care in the world; a bit like Mr Toad, she thought, when Jessica once more shouted “poop poop” and Jennings indulged her by blasting the horn twice.
Shelley relaxed and smiled happily. She could barely wait to start her new life and put her past behind her. She had absolutely no doubt that she was going to be happy in New York.
* * *
Twenty minutes after leaving the dockyard, the car pulled up outside large metal gates. Behind them was a huge house set in its own grounds. Shelley gazed wistfully at what was to be her new home.
Henry got out of the car and opened the gates, waiting as Jennings drove through before closing them again. Jennin
gs stopped the car on a gravelled driveway in front of the house, and Shelley smiled as she got a closer look and noticed that it was not dissimilar to her parents’ home. She felt immediately comfortable in her new surroundings, but noticed that Clara was staring in complete awe.
Henry helped them out of the car and led them into his home, where he introduced them to his butler and cook. Both were very friendly and warmly welcomed Shelley and Clara. They too hugged their employer affectionately, clearly relieved to see him home safe. Shelley was touched to see Henry console his weeping cook, as he brushed away her tears and reassured her that he was unscathed. She could never imagine her father offering comfort to one of his staff, or indeed allowing them to hug him.
Shelley smiled as the butler and cook made a real fuss of Jessica, and the cook once more broke down in tears as she held the little girl in her arms and swayed slightly. Jessica patted her arm gently. “Don’t cry,” she told her, squeezing her little arms around the ample woman’s neck.
Leaving Jessica with his cook, Henry took Shelley and Clara upstairs. He led them into their room, telling them to get some rest.
“I’ll call you when dinner is ready. And I’ll send a telegram to your mother,” he told Clara, handing her a notepad and pen. She scribbled down a quick message and passed the pad back to him.
“Is there anyone at all I can contact for you, Shelley?” he asked. “Surely someone must be worried about you?” Shelley shook her head sadly. When Henry left the room, she slumped back on her bed and sighed. Replaying the events of the past week and a half, she could not believe how different things would have been had she gone ahead with her planned marriage.
Clara sat on the bed beside her and squeezed her hand. “Are you OK?” she asked with concern. Shelley sat up and smiled. “I am doing the best thing. I know I am. I will contact my parents eventually, just not yet.”
Clara smiled and nodded.
Shelley sat up on her bed as Clara crossed the room to a writing desk in the corner. She opened the small drawer, reached inside and took out some paper, picked up a quill pen and dipped it into a pot of ink, and began to write.
“I’m going to write to my mother,” Clara told Shelley. “I’ve just told her in the telegram that I’m safe and I owe my life to Henry’s bravery, but I need to tell her all about you, Henry, and Jessica.” Shelley smiled, warmed by her friend’s enthusiasm.
“I’m disappointed that my diary went down with the Titanic, but I’m going to try to remember everything about our night at the captain’s table. I need to tell my mother all about it.”
Shelley got up and moved to sit beside her friend, and she once more helped her to remember every minute detail of their unforgettable evening.
* * *
An hour or so after leaving the girls in their new room, Henry knocked on the door and waited several seconds before entering. Placing a pile of clothes on Shelley’s bed, he told the girls, “These are just a few things my cook has sorted out for you both. I’ll take you shopping in a day or two to get you some more,” he told them.
“Thank you,” they chorused, smiling up at him. Clara still sat at the writing desk, where she had just finished her letter to her mother, and Shelley lounged on Clara’s bed, her bare feet tucked up under her.
Clara picked up her letter, placed it into an envelope that she had addressed very neatly, and asked Henry, “Could you please post this to my mother?” Getting up from her chair, she moved towards him and expectantly held her letter out. “We’ve told her all about dinner at the captain’s table. We managed to remember every single little detail between us,” she grinned.
Shelley smiled and was pleased she had been able to help Clara and bring her some comfort. The task had also made Shelley happier, being able to pull good memories out of what had turned into such a tragic event.
Henry nodded and took the letter from her. “Of course I’ll post that for you, though your mother has been informed you’ve arrived here safely. A telegram was also sent from the Carpathia to let her know you were one of the fortunate souls who had survived,” he added. Draping his arms around Shelley and Clara’s shoulders, Henry led them down to dinner.
* * *
After a pleasant meal, Shelley felt utterly exhausted. After bidding everyone goodnight, she headed up to her room with Clara. Relieved to no longer be at sea, Shelley looked forward to a good night’s sleep on steady ground. She climbed into her new bed and rested her head on the soft pillow, but despite being more tired than she could ever recall, she was dismayed when she lay awake for a long time, tossing and turning.
“Are you still awake?” she whispered across the room to Clara, but the only response was Clara’s soft breathing. Shelley envied that she could drop off so easily.
When Shelley finally managed to get to sleep, she woke soon afterwards, sweating and shaking. A very vivid nightmare had been the cause of her distress, where she had once again watched the Titanic plummet beneath the ocean.
In her dream, Shelley had swum down and followed the ship as it continued its journey to the bottom of the sea. It took many passengers with it and Shelley had gazed into their lifeless faces, their vacant expressions sending a chill through her. Shelley opened her eyes and sat upright. She was in a cold sweat and trembled as she tried to blink away the images of the dead and dying that seemed to have etched themselves into her memory.
Sobbing as she swung her legs out of bed, she stumbled across to Clara. Not wanting to disturb her friend, who still slept soundly, Shelley slipped quietly out of their room and padded soundlessly along the landing and down the stairs.
Feeling her way carefully around in the unfamiliar surroundings, Shelley found her way to the kitchen and helped herself to a glass of water. She swallowed huge gulps of it in an attempt to calm her nerves. She then sat down at the table and slumped forward. Her head dropped into her hands as she trembled.
Shelley was startled when Henry sat down beside her and draped his arm comfortingly around her shoulders.
“Did you have a nightmare?” he asked calmly. Shelley turned to face him and nodded slowly. She reached for his hand and gripped it tightly as she sobbingly described the awful things she had seen in her dream. Henry listened attentively and when she had finished, he pulled her up from the chair and guided her through to the lounge. He sat down in a rocking chair and patted his lap. Shelley smiled and gratefully accepted the seat. Holding her close, he rocked her gently in his chair, whispering words of comfort to her. Shelley clung to him, not daring to go back to sleep for fear of returning to her dream.
Eventually, despite her best efforts to prevent it, sleep finally overcame her once more.
* * *
Shelley woke the next morning, feeling refreshed and ready for her new challenge. She briefly wondered how she had got back to bed, immediately recalling getting up and going downstairs following a bad dream. She vaguely remembered sitting on Henry’s lap. She guessed she must have fallen asleep, which meant he must have carried her upstairs. The thought of being cradled in his arms and put to bed made her smile.
Shelley hoped that nightmares would not continue to disturb her sleep. Sighing deeply, she approached Clara’s bed and shook her still soundly sleeping friend gently until she opened her eyes.
“Come on, sleepyhead. Time to get up,” she urged, as Clara rolled onto her stomach and pulled the pillow over her head.
Once Clara was fully awake, the pair rushed to the bathroom where they washed and dressed, eager to go downstairs and explore their new home.
Again Shelley tried to push thoughts of her family in England out of her head, and she smiled brightly as she headed down for breakfast, ready to take the first few tentative steps into her new life.
* * *
Meanwhile, in England, Michelle Ellis picked up the newspaper, desperate to read the latest about the Titanic. She was still in shock that she could very easily have been on the ship when it went down.
One good thing had co
me out of the tragedy, she noted. When they heard the news, James’ parents had suddenly thrown their prejudices about the couple’s relationship aside, hugging and kissing their son and daughter-in-law-to-be and thanking God that she had stayed in England with him.
“Is there anything?” James asked her, sitting beside her as she flicked through the pages.
“Yes,” Michelle gasped, “there’s a list of the survivors. Oh, I hope she got onto a lifeboat,” she said, holding her breath as she moved her finger down the page, scanning for the name Shelley Robertson-Bell.
“Oh, she’s made it,” she announced with delight, “but she’s used my name. That’s odd!”
“I guess she’s decided to ditch her identity to prevent her parents tracing her,” James suggested.
Michelle nodded. “I guess so. Do you think I should tell them?” she asked her fiancé, dropping the paper onto the table and wringing her hands.
“You made a promise, darling. You swore you wouldn’t let her parents know where she was.”
Michelle sighed. “Yes, I did, and you didn’t see the bruises on that poor girl’s bum. I can’t believe her mother did that to her, with a hairbrush. Thank goodness her father didn’t take his strap to her too. How could anyone consider such barbaric means to force someone down the aisle?”
James smiled and squeezed her hand. “Spanking isn’t barbaric. It’s a totally acceptable tool to help a disobedient young lady see the error of her ways, and one that I wholeheartedly approve of.”
Michelle’s eyes widened and she stared at him in horror.
“But I agree with you,” he continued. “Their discipline seemed a little excessive under the circumstances. They could surely have talked to her if she was having doubts about the wedding. It didn’t need to come to this. Whether she decides to contact them now is her business.”
The Delinquent Bride Page 9