Chapter Fifteen #2
“No, I’m fine. I’m enjoying this,” she assured him. She didn’t really feel sick—just a little peculiar with the movement of the boat on the waves.
“Then why don’t you go to your cabin and take a nap? It will take us the rest of the day, at least, to get to Ostend. I’ll come down and join you later.”
She nodded and made her way unsteadily to her cabin.
Betsy met her there. “Feeling a mite queasy, m’lady?”
Tessa was about to deny it—she was determined not to be a bad sailor—but Betsy said, “Don’t worry m’lady, I got just the thing for you.
” She produced a flask and poured out a cupful.
“Cold tea with ginger and a few ‘erbs me mam swears by—just the thing to settle your stomach. Now, drink it all down.”
Tessa wasn’t sure about that, but she drank it obediently. The ginger taste was quite strong.
“Now, just you lie down and try to get some sleep, and when you wake up, you’ll be fresh as a daisy. And if you do need to be sick, use this.” She pointed to a small bucket on a little hook beside the bed, then helped Tessa to remove some of her clothes and tucked her into the bunk.
#
TESSA WOKE TO A SENSE of warmth and well-being. Marcus lay in the bunk with her, sound asleep, his arm circling her, holding her against him. Water lapped gently against the side of the yacht, but otherwise there was very little movement. Had they arrived?
She carefully disengaged herself from Marcus’s embrace, sat up and looked out of the little porthole.
It was fairly dark, but she couldn’t tell if it was night or very early morning.
Through faint drifts of mist she could see several lights glimmering ashore and there were several other boats floating gently at anchor on the harbor.
They’d arrived, but where, she wondered — Ostend or Calais?
She lay down again, snuggled up to Marcus who murmured something unintelligible, tightened his arm around her but otherwise didn’t stir. She closed her eyes again and, rocked by the rhythmic gentle rocking of the boat, drifted back to sleep.
She woke some time later. Marcus had gone and it was much lighter outside.
She stretched, sat up and looked out of the porthole.
The mist was gone and the harbor was dotted with boats of every size.
The water was blue and gleaming and the sky was clear and very blue, with just a few fluffy little clouds.
“You slept well, I think.” Marcus said from the doorway, startling her.
He was fully dressed and even shaved. He bent and kissed her, and she could taste his tooth powder.
“I’ll leave you to make your ablutions. There is a jug of hot water there,” he said, indicating it.
“We’ll disembark as soon as you’re ready and break our fast ashore. ”
Tessa washed hurriedly but thoroughly, and was dressing just as Betsy arrived to assist her with the last few buttons and her hair.
“Don’t worry about your things, miss. I’ll pack ‘em up and the men will bring ‘em later. The master is anxious to get ashore.” She winked. “Lookin’ for his breakfast, I reckon.”
Tessa made her way upstairs and found Marcus waiting at the rail. “Do you think you can climb down?” he said.
She looked down and saw a small rowboat bobbing gently at the bottom of a narrow ladder. Two men waited in it.
“I can get you lowered if you prefer,” he added.
“No, I, I’m sure I can manage,” she said, sounding more confident that she felt.
“I’ll go first then.” He disappeared over the side and stood in the small boat, legs braced and arms up, ready to receive her. She took a deep breath, did her best to wrap her skirts around her and climbed over the rail.
“I did it!” she exclaimed as she landed, and then grabbed onto Marcus as the little boat bobbed and wobbled.
He laughed, sat her down and gave the order to move off.
She gazed around her, enjoying the sights and sounds of the harbor, men calling out in accents she didn’t recognize, sea birds screeching and shrilling raucously as they dived for fish and fought over scraps.
And the smell, not just salty and seaweedy, but . . . ew. She wrinkled her nose.
In no time at all she was being handed ashore. She stood there, shaking out her skirts and looking around her. “Breakfast first,” Marcus said, “And then we’ll see about transport. Are you in a hurry to get to Waterloo or would you prefer to spend a day or so exploring the town?”
“Look around the town, please,” she said, pleased that again he had consulted her wishes first before making a decision. “I’ve never been outside England, remember?”
“Very well. There is an inn—quite respectable I’m told—and I wrote ahead to bespeak a suite there in case you preferred to stay a while. I also plan to hire a local fellow to organize our arrangements. We’ll take breakfast and then explore the town.”
“Have you been here before?”
“No, I never did the Grand Tour when I was of an age to do it, as Europe was too unsettled to be regarded as safe for foreign travelers. If I had, I probably would have gone straight to Paris first and skipped Belgium completely. However, the question never arose, as my father was failing and I could not leave. Now, shall we?”
She took his arm and they walked into the town.
Breakfast was delicious, with fresh, warm, crusty rolls and butter with ham or soft white cheese, or plum or cherry jam and boiled eggs. Marcus ate several rolls with ham and cheese, while Tessa spread her rolls with delicious cherry jam, washed down with hot creamy chocolate. Marcus drank coffee.
Tessa was intrigued to see that, though Marcus spoke to the innkeeper and servants in French, the servants conversed with each other in a language that sounded quite different. Not that she understood any of it: she’d never been taught French or any other language.
“Many people here speak Flemish in preference to French,” he explained. “Flemish is related to Dutch, I believe.” In a lowered voice he added wryly, “And whether they’re Flemish or French, few of them love the English.”
Then they explored the town.
#
THE FOLLOWING DAY THEY set off, heading eventually for Brussels and then Waterloo. Marcus had hired a local man, Tomas, to arrange things, and, since a light drizzle was forming, they set off in a hired carriage.
“We could also hire horses if you wished to ride,” Marcus said. “I can’t. promise you a side-saddle, though, as choices in such small towns will be limited.”
Tessa laughed. “I often used to ride astride as a girl, though Phillips used to scold me for it. And I would love to ride”—she glanced outside—“when the weather improves.”
The journey passed quickly with so much to see, villages of pristine white cottages with bright red roofs, little fields like patchwork, acres of what looked like cabbages and potatoes, apple and pear orchards and lush green fields with beautiful black and white cows grazing.
The weather cleared up in the afternoon, and when they came to a small clear river, Tessa said, “What about a picnic lunch here?” She was enjoying traveling and looking out at the passing scenery, but the carriage did jolt and bounce along the road and her bones could use a break.
Marcus shrugged. “Why not? We’re in no hurry, after all, and we should enjoy the good weather while we can.”
So they picnicked beside the river on bread, cheese and sausage, washed down with a local wine.
Afterwards Tessa paddled in the shallows.
How long since she had been able to do this?
Not since she was a child, at Ferndale. It gave her an idea.
With a mischievous glance at Marcus, she pulled off her loose traveling gown, waded in and plunged in dressed only in her chemise.
“What the—” Marcus began, and then, when she laughed up at him, and sent a splash in his direction, he stripped down to his drawers and dived in after her.
Laughing and splashing they frolicked like children.
Afterward, seated on the bank, she watched him dry his chest, and let out a big sigh of contentment. “I’m so glad I married you.”
He gave her a sharp glance. “Because?”
She spread her arms out wide. “All this.”
He frowned, not clear on what she meant.
She lay back on the grass—indifferent to possible stains—and stretched out, still in her damp chemise. “The water was chilly, but so fresh and glorious. Thank you.”
Marcus said nothing. She was unlike any woman he’d ever known. He hadn’t given her anything, but she acted as though an impromptu swim in a river was a precious gift.
Her hair clustered around her face, forming tiny curls as it dried in the sun.
The damp fabric of her chemise clung to her every curve.
He could see the dark circles of her nipples, still hard from the cold water, the shadowed vee at the base of her stomach, but she didn’t seem the slightest bit self-conscious.
He sat down beside her on the grass.
She gave another contented sigh and added, “I haven’t been swimming since I was a girl, at Ferndale. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed it.” She stretched, and added with a smile of dazzling sweetness. “I didn’t really know what people did on a honeymoon, but I can see now why they enjoy them.”
“Swimming isn’t the only reason,” Marcus murmured and bent over her. She laughed softly and pulled his head down.
They made love in the open air, on his spread-out coat. Marcus had never done anything so frivolous or improper in his life.
He didn’t regret a moment of it.
Though he was very glad their driver and guide were back with the carriage beside the road.
#
THEY SPENT A NIGHT in Ghent, and then on to Brussels. After a couple of days exploring the beautiful old city, where Tessa came away with several lengths of the exquisite, hand-made lace for which the city was famous, they made plans to go to Waterloo the following day.