Chapter 4
I’d written off Henry months after my engagement, when I finally realized he would never come for me. Everyone had been pressing me to get married, so I finally gave in to my uncle in hopes that Henry would take action and do something. It was silly, really. But finally realized that this was it; there was no one to keep me company or rescue me...and it was terrifying. After he told me that he loved me and that he would never let anyone separate us, he did precisely that.
I rubbed my hands together over my arms and tried to bring some warmth back into my body. I’d been waiting in the promenade deck for the past five minutes, completely alone and frozen to the bone.
“It seems like you’re reminiscing.” Henry called out.
“I’m reminiscing on my rotten luck.” I deadpanned, looking straight ahead as he took a seat beside me on the wooden bench There was an awkward pause. I hoped he wasn’t expecting me to take initiative in his little plan.
“Look, can we just get this over with already?” Nothing sounded better than a warm spot by the fire in my cabin.
“So eager to kiss me?” He teased, completely ignorant to the annoyed groan that escaped my mouth. His self-confidence was truly infuriating.
“It’s because I’m freezing, obviously.” I explained, as if it made all the sense in the world. Having to come on deck on such short notice didn’t leave much time to grab a coat. Besides, mother would start asking questions if she saw me leave the cabin so late.
Henry finally realized that I wasn’t wearing a coat and . I tried not to sigh contentedly as the warmth seeped into my body, the lingering smell of cologne drifting through my nose.
“Under any other circumstances I would throw your coat on the floor and stomp on it, but I’m too cold for that right now.” I said stubbornly, trying to contain the chatter of my teeth.
“I appreciate it. That’s my favorite coat, you know.”
I looked at him doubtfully. “It is?” It was a relatively plain coat. Expensive in material and craftsmanship, but simply designed nonetheless.
“Well, it is now.” I didn’t know if to be flattered or annoyed at his constant advances, so I just shot him an awkward sidelong glance. I briefly wondered what it would be like to kiss him.
He sighed loudly, and the boyish cheekiness appeared to be sucked out of him. “Go to your cabin, Ophelia.”
“But you told me—”
“I know what I said. But I’ve had a change of heart. Now go.” His eyes were fixed on his shoes, but his voice was strong. I held back a cutting remark on his indecision, fearing that it would make him change his mind. Again.
“Are…are you going to tell Stanley?”
“No, I won’t tell him anything. I promise.” But his promise didn’t mean much to me anymore. Henry sensed my conflict and looked up with a reluctant smile.
“I suppose you’ll just have to trust me.”
I felt words trying to bubble out of my mouth, but I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to say. Henry looked lost in thought again, so I carefully placed his coat beside him and strolled back to my cabin. The room was quiet when I entered, a small fire warming up the room and lighting up the golden detailing on the rich mahogany walls. With a deep sigh, I toed off my shoes happily and stretched out my leg.
“Ophelia? Is that you?” Mother’s voice called out.
“Yes, it’s me.” The items on the vanity clattered around as I clumsily tried to wash up and remove all of the fastidious jewelry: two large diamond studs and several strings or pearls, as well as several jeweled combs.
“What took you so long?” She asked, emerging from her room in her favorite silk robe. Her hair had been combed down and braided to a long plait.
“I got lost.” I lied, avoiding her gaze in the mirror’s reflection. Luckily, Mother was feeling generous enough to help me remove my corset, and I was dressed and settled in no time at all. I couldn’t contain the happy sigh that escaped me when I snuggled into bed. The bed was incredibly soft, and I was sure it was the closest I would feel to sleeping on a cloud. The sheets were impeccably crisp and snowy white, serving to remind me precisely how new the ship itself was.
I suppose I should feel relieved that Henry changed his mind, I thought, turning over in bed. But I didn’t. It was a strange sensation: on one hand I felt the icy grip of heartache, but on the other I felt the warm feeling of giddiness.
Spending time with him tonight reminded me of our old times. We didn’t get along at first: I thought he was a snobby and selfish heir, and he thought I was a mousy American brat. I didn’t realize how much I cared until I was in love with him and having him was as necessary as breathing.
One year earlier,
Spring in Hastings Estate was a sight to behold. The scent of blooming flowers lingered in the breeze, and everything felt a alive. Henry and I had come to a tentative friendship, and in a time of boredom decided to race horses. The estate had its a small forest, lake, several fishing ponds, and a small chapel. Today we raced towards the lake. No one liked to visit the lake, especially when there were several well-stocked fish ponds near the Hastings house. So that afternoon, it was just two of us sitting in the forest.
“Why aren’t you coming in the water?” As a part of our ‘truce’, Henry helped me learn how to ride astride and I showed him how to skip rocks on the surface of the lake.
“I’m wearing a dress, Henry. Besides, I didn’t even bring a change of clothes.” I answered, reclining on the base of a large weeping willow and continuing to read my book. Henry dumped the flat rocks he picked out earlier and treaded to deeper water.
“I’ve never seen you swim. Are you sure you don’t want to join me? You can just take the dress of, you know.” He leered, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. I rolled my eyes and ignored him, engrossed in my book. A few minutes later there was a loud gurgle and splash.
“…Henry?” He had vanished from the surface of the water. I threw the book aside and ran into the chilled water. A sense of dread filled me. This could not be happening again. Not him. Not like my father.
“Henry! Where are you?!” The water was murky shade of brown, making impossible to see through it. I kept treading through the dark water mindlessly, trying to think about anything except my father. But it was useless. Soon I was transported back to the horrible day when I found my father floating upside down, lifeless.
There was a loud gasp as Henry emerged from the surface of the water. “Aha! I got you to get in the water!” But I wasn’t listening to him anymore.
“Ophelia? Are you cross with me? Come on, it was just a game—” His face froze when he looked at me. He placed his hands on my shoulders and shook me firmly.
“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” The horrible memory cleared away, and I looked up to find Henry absolutely soaked. His white undershirt was dirty from the water and clung to him like a second skin. He reached up and brushed my face gently, wiping the wetness on my face. I had been crying.
“I’m so sorry.” He apologized in a rush of breath. “I didn’t to upset you, I just did it for fun—”
“You call that fun?” I realized it had been a simple game for him, to scare me into rushing at the water. “You idiot!” My arms reached up and pushed with angrily. Henry, surprised, lost his balance and plunged into the water.
“Why are you so angry?” I would’ve laughed at his bewildered sputtering if I wasn’t so angry at him. His voice faded away as I untied my mare and climbed on the saddle and cantered back towards the manor.
The rest of the afternoon was spend locked away in my room. Henry had come to my door several times, begging me to speak to him. But I couldn’t. Because every time I looked at his face I was reminded of my father, floating lifelessly on the river.
I was fourteen when he died. He had been determined to help me master stone skipping, so the first moment he could spare he brought me to the river. The river was beautiful, but dangerous. At some parts, the current of the riv
er is strong enough to drag someone away. And that was what happened to father. He said the best stones were flattened by the current of the water, so he tried reaching into the river for them. Somehow he lost his footing and was dragged by the current and dragged over the waterfall. It all happened so quick. When I finally scrambled to the bottom of the waterfall, he was dead.
I had a hard time doing anything but reminisce, and sleep was no exception. Every time the fire crackled I remember the sound of the waterfall, and the inky night was suffocating. Between turning and tossing, I managed to fall into a fitful rest. The nightmare was unsurprising when it started. After my father died they repeated time after time. I always tried running down to the waterfall in that sprint that seems slow no matter how hard you run. There was a body floating upside down, like always. But when I turned the body over, I wasn’t staring at my father.
I was looking at Henry.
The nightmare ended in a chaotic burst. Someone was screeching loudly, my throat burned, and I felt like a million hands were grabbing at me.
“Ophelia! There’s no need to yell, it’s stopped now. Shush, I’ve got you.” The screaming finally toned down to a whimper.
“There, there. It’s over now.” One arm was wrapped around me tightly and the other hand combed through my hair in soothing strokes. I only knew one person with such a soothing voice.
“H-h-Henry?” Was that my voice?
“Yes, it’s me. I’m here.” I ended up wrapped up in his arms, sheltering my face on the warm spot where his shoulder met his neck.
“Who let you in my room?” I asked dazedly.
“I heard you screaming, so jumped in through the balcony. I thought someone broke into your room.” Our rooms were on the ground floor, so it wasn’t very difficult.
“I had a nightmare.”
“So I gathered. Do you want to talk about it?” I was always told your nightmares would improve if you talked about them. But some nightmares are too frightening to say out loud. So I said as much as I could force out.
“My father…he drowned three years ago.”
“Oh, Ophelia. This is all my fault. I’m so sorry for frightening you at the lake. Really I had no idea it was like that. God, I am such an idiot…” He continued to berate himself.
“I feel better now.”
“…Do you want to go back to sleep?” He asked softly.
“I don’t want to be alone. Will you stay?” I felt silly, but the thought of being alone and having another nightmare terrified me. Perhaps in another few hours the nightmare wouldn’t seem so horrifying.
I expected Henry to put up a fuss and complain about his own lack of rest, but he didn’t. “I’ll stay right here.” He promised, running a soothing hand through my hair. “Shall I whisper sweet nothings into your ear?”
I gave him a reproachful look, but couldn’t help the easy giggle that slipped from my mouth. “Will you read to me?”
He looked utterly repulsed. “Me? Reading a bedtime story? That’s ridiculous. Women and their reading…” He scoffed. I narrowed my eyes and looked up at him.
“What do you mean ‘women and our reading’? It’s much better than the things you men do.” I countered.
“Really.” Henry said dryly.
“Yes, really. At least I don’t go shooting at squawking pigeons to make myself feel manlier—”
“Alright, alright.” He relented, grumbling. “Choose a book.” I turned on the small reading lamp on my bed stand and handed him a book. He criticized my choice (”really, who reads Jane Austen these days…”) but settled in and started reading nonetheless. After a while the drowsiness returned, but with Henry’s arm slung lazily over my waist, I didn’t feel afraid. He never once stopped reading, and the last thing I heard before falling asleep was his rumbling voice.