Chapter Eleven
My dearest brother Samuel
I hope you have already heard the news by some other means, the Home Office perhaps, so my letter will not be a shock to you arriving out of the blue.
After two long years, I scarcely know what to write. Suffice it to say that Sophia and I are safe and well – rescued from Selim Omar’s harem by Captain Kit Hardacre and the crew of the Calliope. I cannot begin to express my gratitude for their efforts and your gratitude, too, would not be unwarranted.
Forgive my scattered thoughts. I didn’t believe this day would come, though I dreamed of it all the time. You will find me a more diligent correspondent as I become reacquainted with the world outside the prison I inhabited.
Sophia told me of your feelings following my abduction. I beg you to forgive yourself, darling brother. What is done cannot be undone. We must take one day at a time. I am sure Sophia, who has written to you also, will tell you the same thing.
Did you marry Lady Victoria? I dream of what your wedding must have been like. Have you been blessed yet with children?
I’ve written much but said little and it is only my cowardice that makes me delay even more.
I am myself with child as the result of my imprisonment.
My pen shakes writing those words. I have yet to become used to the notion or even fathom what it means – but they are not topics which would be of interest to you.
I shall close off now, for I do not wish to burden you too much. All I beg is that you write to me soon and make funds available to me through Uncle Jonas’ bank at Palermo.
Your devoted sister,
Laura
Laura quickly added Morwena’s address and reached for another piece of paper to use as an envelope. She worked swiftly to seal her letter against an afternoon breeze that had sprung up in the past half-hour.
There was a change coming, and it would be a blessed relief to them all. She had spent all morning under the protection of an awning on the roof of Kit’s villa. It offered pleasant shade and she had remained there as much to stay out of the way as it was to paint. Laura glanced at the blank board on the easel with a small amount of guilt. Everyone seemed to have chores to perform while she did nothing.
From her vantage point, she could see the frantic activity at the jetty as the Calliope prepared for her trip to Palermo on this afternoon’s tide.
After so long without choices of her own, she was unnerved at the idea she only had three hours to decide whether she should stay with Sophia on Catallus or leave to try to find a passage home to England.
Decisions, decisions…
The world was still a-kilter, a balancing act between the life before and the one after. How far could she go to reclaim her past? Last night she had broached the subject with Kit.
“Are you enjoying my little slice of paradise?” he had asked with typical showiness. Laura decided to answer in the same vein.
“Apart from a deplorable lack of fashionable news and on-dits from the bon ton, I think it’s a charming place.”
“There are some who would say the very lack of the beau monde is the reason why it is paradise.”
“Do you not miss England at all?”
Kit brought a goblet to his lips and swallowed a mouthful before answering. “Its appeal tends to disappear once I’ve finished banging the drum for my ship’s services.”
“What if…” Laura started again, her voice low. “What if they had never kidnapped you? Where might have you been then?”
“Most likely dead.”
He grinned at her astonished look. It was this combination of arrogance and bravado that made him look even more handsome than he had a right to be. No wonder Sophia had fallen under his spell – most women would. Laura was immune, however. Captain Kit Hardacre was not the first handsomely rakish man to turn his charm on her. What’s more, she’d been extremely displeased with him at their very first meeting when he’d struck Archibald Havers. She’d never mentioned she remembered that regrettable evening.
“Not everyone is born to a fortunate life,” he continued. “If I hadn’t been indentured as a cabin boy, I’d have been dead from black lung as a chimney sweep, or had a knife in the gut in some back alley, or my neck in a noose – all before my fifteenth birthday.”
“You can’t know—”
“I know me. I was a child with too smart a mouth. I’m only just learning to control it now.” He paused and looked out upon the crowd, searching for someone in particular. He found them and relaxed. Laura, too, scanned the crowd to see who he’d been looking for. Sophia was among the dancers. She was smiling and sharing a word with one of the other women.
Laura turned back to Hardacre and watched him.
“You love my cousin.”
“She’s the only reason I’m alive,” he said soberly.
Laura swallowed down unexpected emotion at the depth of his words.
“I know you don’t think much of me, Captain Hardacre, and I realize it is only because of Sophia that I am free, but –”
“—I wouldn’t place a wager on that.”
Laura shut her mouth, her face colored at being interrupted so rudely. She was used to men being gentlemanly and courtly. Kit’s plain speaking rankled.
“Sophia tells me you know how Elias feels about you.” Laura did not mistake that his words carried a hint of dissatisfaction. “Do you intend to do anything about it?”
Laura straightened her back and pulled her shawl more closely about her shoulders. “I don’t think that’s any of your business, Captain.”
Kit shook his head slowly. “Oh, believe me when I tell you I would like nothing better than for this to be none of my business. But the welfare of my crew and friends means as much to me as my love for your cousin…”
He drew a deep breath, perhaps to give himself time to calm down. When he spoke next, his voice was measured. “I grant you, Elias could have handled this better, but I only ask you put the poor bastard out of his misery one way or the other – and do it soon. You’re not the only one who needs to move on.”
The current dance came to an end and Kit turned away to applaud with wild enthusiasm, even engaging in the common practice of whistling his approval. Laura turned her back to him in disgust.
That conversation should have ended the matter.
Hardacre didn’t like her. He made that plain. Laura really didn’t have an opinion of him one way or another. And yet, he came at great risk to save her as well as Sophia. Would it be too much to hope the mutual love they had for Sophia would be enough to keep a peace for the time she was here?
Laura picked at her dress, willing Hardacre to move away if her presence offended him so much. After a moment, he came around and stood, offering his hand.
“If I haven’t offended you completely with my uncouth manners and blunt speaking, will you do me the honor of this next dance?” he asked.
Laura looked doubtfully at the cane propped by his discarded stool. “Surely you jest.”
“Afraid I have two left feet, instead of just one bad one?”
“No, I…” Then Laura saw his grin and realized he was teasing her.
“My leg only hurts during the full moon,” he said. “Come on, it will also make Sophia happy to see you enjoy yourself.”
The memory of last night faded. Laura dripped the blood red wax onto the paper and waited for it to set. The cool shadows under the awning receded in the advancing afternoon sun. It was always hot in August, but as much as she had always complained about a late English summer, it was never as hot or as humid as it was here. But she was used to it now. It was surprising how quickly one could become used to things.
She cast a frustrated glance at her untouched easel. Perhaps she would paint tomorrow.
At the sound of someone ascending the stairs, Laura knew her welcome solitude would be cut short. If it was one of the villagers, she knew enough of the lingua franca spoken here to tell the stranger she was well and would be down shortly.
Laura turned to see who intruded. Elias leaned a shoulder on the wall, his hat in his hand.
“I was hoping to catch you before I left,” he said.
Laura looked down to the lagoon where the Calliope waited.
“You’re leaving?”
“I was reminded I have a home to go to that’s been long neglected.”
“A home?” she asked. Images unbidden came of a thatched English cottage in a sunny lea, a warm hearth, and, more importantly, someone to come home to. “Where’s your home?”
“I have a villa and a small farm just outside of Palermo. You sound surprised.”
“I suppose I just never thought about it.”
Elias offered a wan smile. Laura felt a tether loosen and a sense of Elias drifting away from her. Or perhaps it was she who drifted. A frisson of fear returned.
“I’ve also come to apologize for the conversation we had here a few days ago,” he said. “I was reminded that…” He shook his head.
Elias drifted even further distant.
Laura frowned. He was going to apologize? Was he sorry he had offered his friendship? Misunderstanding her silence, Elias turned away.
“Never mind, I should go,” he said and began to descend the steps.
Laura felt herself slip between the depths, conscious of drowning. She made one more push to the surface.
“Do you love me, Elias Nash?”
For a moment, there was no sound but for the wind rolling down the cliff behind them and the rhythmic boom of full waves crashing onto rocks outside of the protective arms that sheltered Catallus’ lagoon.
Perhaps the wind had snatched the question from her lips and he didn’t hear it. Should she go after him?
Laura made it as far as the top of the stairs before a cold tingling spread down her body. Starting from the top of her head, a wave of dizziness caused her stomach to flip-flop and her ears buzzed. Elias seemed to reappear from nowhere. She took a mouthful of air to fight the fainting spell and felt a moment’s panic as Elias picked her up and carried her down the steps, into the shade. Perspiration that beaded at her forehead turned cold.
“Laura!”
Laura closed her eyes at Sophia’s exclamation. The last thing she wanted was a fuss to make her feel worse than it already was. “I’m fine!” She wanted to yell the words, scream them; instead, they came out in a pathetic whisper.
“It was my fault,” Elias’ response rumbled from his chest. She saw Sophia’s querying look at him, as if to say “How so?”. “It was too hot on the roof,” he explained, “and I kept Miss Laura talking. She was overcome by the sun.”
Laura awoke to thunder overhead that rumbled from one side of the sky to the other. The day, which had been so unbearably hot, was now chilled, and the achingly bright sun had been completely swallowed by clouds.
Stay. She had chosen to stay, but now the prospect was frightening. She was alone once more like when she had been delivered to Selim Omar’s palace. She breathed in deep and rose. The hint of fresh rain beckoned her outdoors. The villa was in darkness and silent.
“Sophia?”
Laura laced up a pair of Sophia’s shoes and entered the back courtyard via the kitchen.
“Sophia?” Still no answer.
The name echoed around the walls, competing with the next roll of thunder.
“Lyda!”
Kit’s housekeeper was nowhere to be seen.
Leaves and other debris tumbled around the courtyard as another gust of wind buffeted the walls of the old structure. Did they all leave on the Calliope without her? Ridiculous! Childish! An island of people doesn’t just disappear.
“Signorina!”
Laura recognized Alfonso’s voice and her heart started beating again.
“Capitano Hardacre,” she said. “Ou est-il?” She winced at her half-Italian, half-French question, but it was enough for Alfonso to understand.
“È sul promontorio.”
Promontorio, promontory – the headland. Kit was on the headland.
The day darkened even more.
“La tempesta sta arrivando.” The storm is on its way. Yes, yes, that she could understand. Laura nodded enthusiastically as she followed Alfonso to his cottage. He lit a candle and put it in a glass lantern.
“You no go,” he said in heavily-accented English. “Pericoloso. Dangerous. I go. You wait for Lyda.”
Laura shook her head. Alfonso sighed, apparently in no mood to argue. But her stubbornness was less bravado and more fear. This was her first storm on Catallus; she did not intend to weather it by herself.
She kept her head down and trudged up the path behind the old man. By the time they had reached the top, her calves ached and she huffed in the wind.
The headland was illuminated by a sliver of yellow-green light; the ancient Roman columns turned a vivid shade of white against a charcoal grey sky leavened with lighter hues.
Never had she seen a sky so thick and heavy. Lightning jagged its way down from the heavens, drawing her eye to a bright white spot on the roiling sea.
It was a ship under full sail, moving toward the monstrous storm. The Calliope. Laura closed her eyes to say a quick prayer for the crew.
The ground rumbled under her feet in harmony with the thunder. The afternoon became darker still but, silhouetted against the sky, right on the edge of the headland, were two figures standing so close they could be one.
“What are they doing? They’ll be soaked if they stay there too long.”
Laura stepped forward, but Alfonso took her hand. “Wait. Don’t disturb.” He opened the shutter on the lamp and held it aloft, a little yellow beam of light, but it was enough to attract the couple’s attention.
The impending storm had extinguished the remaining sun, stripping color from the world. Nature seemed to hold her breath, waiting.
Then lightning flashed overhead, so close it seemed to sizzle, and so bright Laura was momentarily blinded by it.
One-one thousand, two-one thousand – the game from her childhood came back in an instant.
Crack!
Thunder burst overhead. Laura reflexively squealed and threw her hands over her eyes, then protectively around her stomach.
The distant figures approached but Laura’s attention remained out to sea where rain fell as an endless curtain and she watched the Calliope disappear behind it.
Was it a mistake to stay?