Chapters (53)
- Praise
- Also by
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- Donegal, Ireland - 1911
- Delia
- Nora
- Delia
- Nora
- The Titanic - 1912
- Delia
- Nora
- Delia
- Nora
- Delia
- Nora
- Delia
- Nora
- Delia
- New York - 1912
- Delia
- Nora
- Delia
- Nora
- Delia
- Nora
- Dallas, Texas - 1913
- Delia
- Donegal - 1913
- Nora
- Shotgun City - 1913
- Delia
- New York - 1913
- Nora
- Humboldt Ranch - 1913
- Delia
- Shotgun City - 1913
- Nora
- Delia
- Nora
- Delia
- Nora
- Delia
- Nora
- Delia
- Nora
- Delia
- Nora
- Delia
- Delia
- Acknowledgments
- Suggested Questions for Discussion
I hadn’t gone very far when a car drew up beside me. “Selkie? I mean, Nora. Come on, get in or you’ll freeze to death.”
We drove in silence. Ben wrapped me in a blanket, and I slid down in the seat, trying to blot out the world.
Mrs. Shaw ran out of the door as soon as Ben stopped the car in front of the house. It was as if she knew something was wrong.
“Ben? What’s happening? Where is Sinclair?” Then she turned to me. “Are you all right, child?”
I hadn’t the strength to answer.
“Let’s get her inside, Mrs. Shaw,” said Ben. “I’ll explain shortly.”
I sank down in bed with Silver curled next to me and drifted off into an exhausted, thankfully dreamless, sleep.
* * *
The next morning I sat up in bed sipping a cup of tea while Mrs. Shaw sat in a chair beside me. Her expression was a mixture of sadness and anger.
“I’m so sorry about what happened.”
“’Twasn’t your fault, Mrs. Shaw. You tried to warn me.”
She shook her head. “Not about that sort of behavior. I never thought he was capable of that.”
I shrugged. “I didn’t either.”
A wave of self-pity came over me then, and I began to cry. I thought about how over the moon I’d been about the party; how much I’d loved showing off my new dress; how I secretly hoped Sinclair might be the man I’d been waiting for. But then he’d gone and ruined everything. I felt dirty, my body aching and bruised from the force of his fingers trying to invade me, full of shame at his accusations. I’d made a fool of myself and maybe I deserved what I got.
As if reading my mind, Mrs. Shaw left her chair and lay down on the bed beside me. She took me into her arms.
“It’s not your fault, dear child; you did nothing to bring this on. It is Sinclair who should be ashamed.” She paused and stroked my hair. “Ben told me what happened. He said Sinclair lost a great deal of money in that card game. Then he got very drunk and took his anger out on you.”
“’Twas Ben who saved me,” I whispered. “Who knows what might have happened if he hadn’t interfered?”
Mrs. Shaw nodded. “Ben is a fine young man. His loyalty to my nephew has always puzzled me. But after last night, he has finally seen Sinclair for the monster he really is.”