Dorothy Eden by American Heiress Read Free Book Online

him?”
    Hetty shook her head.
    “Ah, he’s a good man. He wants all American nationals looked after, and that includes yourself. Now I doubt you’ll be able to walk as far as the school. But here’s what we’ll do. I’ll get Rose to put you in a chair and push you. She’s a strong young girl. That way you can get the shock over as soon as possible. Rose. Rose! Can Sister spare you for half an hour? And get a warm wrap to put round Miss Jervis.”
    Rose came hurrying up.
    “Father, isn’t it a bit soon for the poor young lady?”
    “Yes, it is soon, but it’s a terrible tragedy and we have to deal with it as we can. There are a great many identifications to be made and the authorities have to act as fast as they can. There’ll be funeral instructions, and a coroner’s inquest.”
    The simple barren little schoolhouse stood a short way up a gentle hillside, near to the grey weathered church. Why hadn’t Mrs Jervis been laid in the church?
    Because it was full, Father Neely said briefly.
    Hetty shivered.
    “Are there so many dead?”
    “This is only a small town. Its name is Kinsale. I hear that a lot of bodies are being taken to Queenstown. They say several hundreds altogether. Ah, a big shipwreck is a terrible thing.”
    It was a terrible thing, too, to look down on poor Mrs Jervis’s drowned face, the unmistakable choker, its diamonds sparkling brilliantly from their immersion in sea water, cutting into her swollen throat. She looked grey and quite lifeless. But someone had mercifully closed her eyes and folded her pudgy hands on her breast. She would never again shout “Brown!” in her commanding voice.
    It was hard to believe. So dreadful that Hetty couldn’t speak. She only nodded in response to Father Neely’s unspoken enquiry. Then she clutched her throat, feeling she couldn’t breathe, and Father Neely, misunderstanding, said, “She won’t be buried with her jewellery unless you specifically request it.”
    “I wasn’t thinking of that. Anyway, it must go back to New York.”
    “Surely. That’s what we’ll talk about. Let us get out of here. We can do nothing for any of these poor souls,” he indicated the rows of sheeted bodies, “except pray for them.”
    Hetty had collapsed by the time they got her back to the hospital. So they left her alone for the rest of the day, except to bring her a plate of bread and milk in the evening. Then she was afraid to sleep because sleep would bring back the nightmares, dominated by Mrs Jervis’s face, so still and yet somehow so full of reproach. “How dare you be alive, Brown, when Clemency and I are dead!”
    But where was Clemency? Hetty had asked to be told if a dark-haired young girl were found.
    “Ah, the maid,” said Father Neely. “Yes, we’ll look for her. You may find she’s still alive. But don’t be building up your hopes.”
    “If she was alive she’d be asking for—” Hetty had been going to say “her mother”—“for us.”
    But so far no one answering to the description had been found. They had telephoned to Queenstown to make enquiries.
    Hetty did eventually sleep and dreamed that she was holding Clemency’s head under the water. It was an appalling dream, and she woke sobbing in horror. The night sister came to her bedside, the gentle shadowed face looking down at her. “Hush, child. You’re disturbing the others. I’ll bring you some hot milk. Then you’ll sleep more soundly.”
    Surprisingly enough, after drinking the milk, she did sleep, and in the morning found herself starving. She could eat everything they brought her. She wanted to live. She was so hungry to live now that she had laid the way to becoming an impostor and seizing Clemency’s golden opportunities. She was Clemency Jervis, an insistent voice within her repeated over and over.
    She was ready to leave the hospital, she told the tired sister on duty.
    “That’s grand, dear. But don’t go until Father Neely comes. He wants to ask you some