Twenty-nine

Emma blotted her eyes with a much-abused handkerchief. She had heard the talk that she was beautiful, but no one would think so now. She was not someone who could cry without her face telling the tale. Her eyes swelled up and her nose turned red and ran, making her look like a victim of influenza.

Emma pushed herself off the bed and tried to calm herself. She needed to believe things would work out for the best, but the evidence at present was not in her favor. Her father had died, leaving her alone in the world. Her stepbrother wanted to send her to an asylum. And then, just when she had been ready to accept a proposal of marriage, Darington was taken away from her too. It all seemed so futile. Why open her heart up again if it was only to be broken?

A lump formed in her throat and she wiped her eyes again with her much-abused handkerchief. She feared she might dissolve into tears once more when Sally skulked into the room. With a glance, Emma realized she was not the only one feeling out of sorts.

“Sally? Are you well?”

Sally slumped down on a chair by the window and turned to her with sad eyes brimming with tears. “I don’t want to go to America. I don’t want to be on a ship.”

Emma was not terribly surprised by this confession. “You certainly do not have to do anything you do not wish. I understand if you do not wish to leave England.” She could not fault the girl for not wishing to be banished with her. “I can travel alone with my chaperone, I’m sure.”

“But what of me?” cried Sally. “I want to be a lady’s maid for a fancy, rich lady and live in a nice house. I thought you was a fancy lady, but it turns out I was wrong.”

This outburst was so outside the bounds of what would be considered an appropriate utterance for a lady’s maid, Emma was taken aback and found herself without words to reply.

“I need a good reference so I can get a position with some fancy lady,” continued Sally with a pout. “I want you to write one for me before you leave.”

Emma felt strongly that the position of lady’s maid was not quite in keeping with Sally’s natural skills and abilities, whatever those might be. “Perhaps you should think of employment outside of service,” she suggested.

Sally’s eyes flashed. “You ain’t going to write me a letter?”

“I do not think you are well suited to the position of a lady’s maid and I do not wish to sign my name to something that is untrue. However, I will provide you with your remaining wages plus some extra, with which you can return home and look for other positions.” Emma fished a generous sum out of her reticule. She had been saving her meager pin money for a long time, and though it left her with less than was entirely comfortable for her journey, she wished to be more than fair to Sally.

Now that she had caught up with her designated chaperone, she could survive on what little she had left until she met her future husband. Of course it meant she no longer had funds to return if she wished, but she would deal with that problem if it came. She certainly could not send Sally away empty-handed.

“Here you are.” Emma handed Sally the generous sum. “That should provide enough for you to return to your parents and start over with whatever you should wish to do.”

Sally took the money but stared at it with a glower. No thanks emerged from her lips. “It’s cold out there. I’ll freeze trying to get back home.” She spoke with a sob.

“I did not realize you had been uncommonly cold. Let me see what I have to make you more comfortable.” Emma turned to rummage through her traveling chest. Sally already had a wool cloak and heavy wool gloves with a cotton liner. Still, everyone was cold traveling in January and Sally seemed more sensitive than most. “Would an extra muffler do for you?” she asked, turning back around with a scarf in hand.

“No. No, I just want to go.” Sally edged to the door. “I just want to be done with the whole mad lot of you.”

“Well then! I do wish you the best.”

Sally said nothing more but dashed out the door, slamming it behind her. Emma sighed and sank back down to the bed, feeling heavy with the tremendous events of the past few days. She had lost her home, her maid, her chance to wed her true love.

Emma took a deep breath and then another. She had to remind herself that this was exactly her plan all along. Nothing had changed.

Except her arranged fiancé was not the sea captain she wished to marry.

Emma took another breath and forced herself to her feet. She had chosen her fate, made the arrangements. It was time to face whatever her life would be. She squared her shoulders and held her head high. She would at least meet her chaperone with dignity, even if her heart was breaking.

She walked down the wooden stairs of the old Portsmouth inn, worn smooth over the years. She gave the name of her chaperone to a harried maid and was informed that the good lady was in a private dining room and was expecting her company.

Emma followed the directions through the smoke-filled common room to a door on the other side. She paused a moment, her hand on the latch, trying to steel her nerves.

“Please give my apologies to Lord Langley,” came a familiar voice on the other side of the door. “But I fear Miss St. James is in no condition to marry anyone.”

Emma clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out. It was Eustace. He had found her.

“Lord Langley will be greatly disappointed,” responded a female voice Emma could only assume was her chaperone. “I cannot fathom why anyone would attempt to arrange a marriage to the grandson of the earl to a girl who is, as you say, quite mad.”

“Yes, I quite agree, it was ill-fated from the start. I only just found out about the plot and set out immediately. I felt it my duty to set things right.”

“Yes, yes, of course. I do appreciate your scruples.”

Emma’s heart beat so loud in her chest she feared it would be overheard. She backed away quietly, fearful the door would open at any second and Eustace would find her. She turned and strode back through the common room, smoke swirling around her.

She retreated to her room and bolted the door. She put a hand to her chest, forcing herself to think logically. She needed to talk to her chaperone and somehow convince her that Eustace was the one who was mentally unstable.

The ship did not leave for another day. She had to find a way to speak to her chaperone alone and enlist her help to sail away without alerting Eustace. It would be a difficult thing to manage, but the alternative was the asylum.

Emma would not surrender easily.

* * *

“The Kestrel—where is it heading?” asked Dare in a tone that was more a demand than a question.

“The Kestrel, ye say, my lord?” asked the harbormaster, removing his cap and scratching his gray head. “Sailed out not long ago. Not sure where she was heading. Can see her there bearing for the Isle of Wight. She’ll be turning into the Channel soon.” He pointed to the black outline of a ship.

“Thank you!” Dare kept the ship in sight as he strode down the sea wall. He could not lose Harcourt now. He passed the Venture, the ship Emma would be taking to America. Despite his great hurry, he slowed his step to give the ship a good look. It was a sturdy brig and would see Emma safely to the New World.

To his surprise, the sails unfurled and the ship began to move slowly from the harbor. The captain must have decided to leave early. It was a good thing he had brought Emma to her chaperone in time. Wasn’t it?

Dare’s gut clenched as he watched the ship slowly sail out of the harbor. He scanned the rail, looking for her. Would she stand and watch the shore drift away? Would she see him and wave? A fresh wave of agony washed over him as he watched the ship leave, taking away the light of his life. He could not even see her one last time.

He wished to chase her and beg her not to leave, but to be with him was to put her at risk. The thought of her being hurt made his blood a molten fire even as he shivered from the cold. No, Emma could not be anywhere near him.

He must let her go.

He turned his collar up against the bitter wind and continued down the sea wall, keeping the outline of the Kestrel in sight.

He was not sure how many of his crew would be available. He had requested they not leave town, though he had no way to ensure they did not go home. Even if he could not find them all, he would make do with what he had.

“Cap’n Dare!” said a cheery voice, a jarring dissonance from Dare’s dark thoughts.

Dare turned to face his first mate. “Everett, you are well met.”

“I am much surprised to see you.” The young man pushed back his dark hair.

“Why should you be surprised?” Dare frowned.

“Because you gave us all extended shore leave.” Everett tilted his head to the side. “Your orders were to leave the ship and see our families. ’Course, I have no family so—”

“I gave no such command,” said Dare, his apprehension rising.

“But…” Everett stared at him wide-eyed. “Got your letter two days ago, commanding us all to go home to our families. Said not to return within two months or you’d never sail with us again. It had your seal.”

“Damnation!” Dare swore a string of curses. He did not typically give vent to emotion, but considering the day he was having, he allowed the indulgence. After keeping himself in check around polite company for months, it was a relief to express his feelings to one who would not take offense. “My signet ring was stolen. I never sent that letter.”

“I am sorry, Cap’n. I was fooled. I knew it was not your hand, but it had your seal, so I thought it was dictated.”

Dare shook his head. “Not your fault. Everett, we need to sail. Today.”

The man smiled as if Dare had said a joke, but the smile faded when he realized Dare was serious. “But we got no provisions, no crew.”

“There must be some sailors left in Portsmouth.”

Everett shook his head. “A few, maybe, but no good ones. The Royal Navy just sailed out, and they pressed every able sailor from eight to eighty into service. It’s mighty thin ’round these parts.”

“Round up the bad ones then, and get ammunition over food.”

“Oh, our ammunition’s full and loaded. The Lady Kate is never caught unawares.” The man gave him a sly smile.

“Good. I’ll round up the men. You get the provisions. We leave as soon as may be. See that ship?” Dare pointed to the shrinking form of the Kestrel. “That’s our quarry. Take a reading on it and mark its course.”

“What?” Everett stared at him aghast.

“Everett, we are going after Captain Harcourt.”

“Harcourt the traitor? But is he not dead?”

“No. But he will be.”