Chapter Fifteen
Getting rid of Madame LeTournier was a daunting experience, but Hannah was equal to it, even as Captain Spark had suggested. It involved a lie, informing the redoubtable modiste that the captain’s favorite aunt had taken sick in Devon and required their presence at the family estate immediately. Hannah delivered it with such aplomb, and received such instant, solicitous response that she owned to considerable chagrin when Madame LeTournier curtseyed herself out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.
“See here, Hannah,”
she scolded herself.
“Thee is becoming altogether too adept at lies. What will thee do next?”
The stumbling block to immediate removal from London proved to be Lady Spark, who would not be budged until she had blackmailed an additional two hats and two more dresses for herself from Captain Spark, in exchange for her necessary services as chaperon.
“And we will leave in the morning, son,”
Lady Spark ordered.
“I have every intention of attending a loo party tonight ....”
“… and losing your shift and garters,”
he finished, snapping out the newspaper and retreating behind it.
“Mama, you are a dreadful gambler. And who pays your bills when you find yourself at point non plus? It certainly isn’t your older son, the esteemed head of our family. I confess to a definite uneasiness over your gaming habits, particularly since they always seem to involve me in your rescue.”
Hannah made herself small on the sofa beside Daniel, wondering what her own mother would make of this conversation. She would gather me up, grab her bonnet, and run, she thought as she watched the small muscle work in Daniel’s cheek as he forced himself to be polite to his mother.
“All the same, son, if you wish my presence in Dorset, and therefore Hannah’s, you will come up to snuff on this one.”
“Very well, Mama,”
Spark growled behind his newspaper.
“I haul down my colors.”
“Done, then!”
she exclaimed.
“We will leave in the morning, and not too early. I do not keep ship’s hours.”
Her mouth turned down for a brief moment, and Hannah was struck by the resemblance between mother and son.
“I do not know why you feel so strongly about that little estate, anyway, Daniel. It is nothing to our manor in Kent.”
Daniel folded the paper in his lap.
“It has the virtue of being entirely unencumbered with debts, madam. It is mine alone, and my dear wastrel brother cannot lay a finger on it.”
He nudged Hannah.
“It is also well timbered, shipshape and draft-free, with a wonderful view of the ocean. I could even mention my bailiff, who would never dream of cheating me, and his wife, who makes almond cake the way I like it.”
Any comments Lady Spark may have wished to express on the view or the hired help remained to herself as the butler showed in Mr. Futtrell, who nodded to the dowager, winked at Hannah, and drew himself up before the captain.
“You wished to see me, sir?” he asked.
“Oh relax, Futtrell.”
Daniel said, and indicated a chair opposite the sofa.
“It is merely a small matter. I wish you to keep in daily contact with the Admiralty House while we are in Dorst. I want to know the moment they decide on another ship for me.”
“Consider it done, sir,”
he said, grinning at his captain. He looked at the floor then, divided between embarrassment and pride.
“And thank you for naming me your number one.”
Hannah clapped her hands.
“Mr. Futtrell! Such good news!”
He grinned again, looking ten years younger, and then stared down at the floor one more time. ‘Trouble is, Hannah, the only other person I would want to share the news with is Mr. Lansing.”
Daniel nodded to his first lieutenant.
“I know how that feels, Mr. Futtrell.”
“Sir, does it ever hurt less?”
the lieutenant asked quietly.
“Well, I will put it to you this way,”
Daniel replied after a moment’s reflection.
“When it doesn’t hurt at all, then it is time to leave the sea for good.”
“I do not know why navy men have to be so morbid,”
Lady Spark said as she left the room.
It is something I understand perfectly, Hannah thought as she reached over to touch Futtrell’s arm. He looked up at her and nodded.
“Surely thee can think of something more pleasant,”
she urged.
“Is thee not on leave now? Does thee have a young lady?”
Futtrell leaned back in surprise, his eyes wide.
“No, ma’am! I couldn’t be so heartless as to actually expect a female to dangle after a seagoing man!/font>”
He glanced at Captain Spark’s glowering countenance and reddened.
“Beg pardon, sir, but I would not.”
“First my mother, and now you,”
Spark said.
“Futtrell, perhaps you have some urgent business elsewhere.”
The lieutenant grinned.
“Aye, sir!”
He stood up and winked at Hannah again.
“This might amuse you, Miss Whittier. I hear there is a lively betting pool at White’s as to whether the little Quaker will actually succumb to a certain sea captain’s proposal. Isn’t that famous?”
Hannah’s jaw dropped. Captain Spark groaned and slapped his forehead with the newspaper.
“God damn your eyes. Mr. Futtrell,”
he roared, as though he stood on his quarterdeck.
“Another remark like that and I’ll break you right down to powder monkey!”
Futtrell was out the door before Spark got to his feet. The captain stood at the door a moment, as though gathering his forces, then turned back to Hannah, who had retreated to the window again, to stare out at the everlasting rain.
“My dear, I had heard something about that,”
the captain mumbled.
“I had hoped to spare you the knowledge.”
Hannah continued to stare out the window, seeing nothing of the rain that sheeted against the glass and spilled into the gutters. People are gambling with my name, she thought, and closed her eyes in shame.
Spark cleared his throat.
“Some would think it amusing,”
he ventured, but there was no assurance in his voice.
“I think it infamous,”
she said, leaning her forehead against the cool panf glass.
“Surely thee does not approve.”
He crossed the room quickly and pulled her into his arms, resting his chin on her head as he held her as close as he could.
“No, I do not,”
he whispered into her hair.
“My love, there is only one place on land where I do not feel out of place, and believe me, it is not in this damned city, with creatures who have nothing better to do than gamble and toy with a lady’s good name.”
She stood in his arms, her ear pressed against his heart, and listened to its steady beat until she felt calm enough to look him in the face.
“Please tell me that if I marry thee, I will not have to come back here ever again.”
she pleaded.
He looked down at her and grinned.
“I will only insist upon it if I am ever named a Lord of the Admiralty.”
He shuddered elaborately until she smiled.
“As I do not see the eventuality of that, you may safely shake the dust of London off your shoes. Lady Amber.”
While they did not leave London early enough to suit Hannah or Captain Spark, it was still too early for Lady Spark, who suffered the ill effects of last night’s overindulgence at the gaming tables.
“I think you are perfectly heartless!”
she railed at her son as he handed her into the family carriage and closed the door firmly on her protests.
He blew a kiss to Hannah through the glass and mounted his horse as the carriage sprang forward and Lady Spark moaned.
Luckily she was snoring by the time they reached London’s suburbs, and Hannah had ample time for reflection.
Such an odd family, she thought as she regarded the older woman, and recalled, with a pang, her own family, Mama so gentle and dignified, and Papa firm and deliberate.
I wonder if they ever had any doubts about marriage to each other, she thought as she observed Captain Spark riding beside the carriage.
Did they ever wonder if they were doing the right thing? Did the idea of sharing a bed with Papa ever frighten Mama? She longed more than ever for the safety of her mother’s arms, and for some word of advice.
I wonder if I would have the good sense to take her counsel, Hannah thought as the miles turned London into just a memory.
I never did before; would I now? Have I learned anything?
These were not questions she could ask Daniel’s mother, who woke up finally, straightened her hat, and complained about the damp, her head, the shabbiness of the carriage (“For all that Daniel is not head of this house, I do not know why he cannot buy another carriage and spare his poor brother, who is always under the hatches.”) They stopped for luncheon not a moment too soon for Hannah.
After their meal, Captain Spark must have noticed her reluctance to continue the journey in the coach with his mother.
“My dear, you could use some roses in your cheeks,”
he said as he pulled her up into the saddle in front of him.
“Mama, I’ll keep Hannah a while.”
With a look of extreme ill usage on her face, Lady Spark allowed the postilion to help her into the carriage.
“If she takes ill with a putrid sore throat and dies a wasting death, then you must explain that to the American ambassador!”
“Mama, Hannah is healthier than a horse,”
Spark said, doing his best to keep the amusement from his voice.
“See you at the estate!”
He dug his heels into his horse and they shot ahead.
As the horse established its rhythm, Hannah sighed and settled back against the captain.
“Healthier than a horse, am I?”
she murmured.
“So I have observed,”
he replied, tightening his arms around her.
“Think how handy that will be in years to come.”
He was silent a moment, rubbing his free hand over her arm.
“I am sorry to have to subject you to my mother, but, damn, we do need a chaperon.”
She sighed and he kissed her neck.
“I think we Sparks do not measure up well against the Whittiers of Nantucket,”
he ventured.
“No, you do not,”
she said simply, “and I am sorry, truly I am. I fear you do not love your relatives.”
“Would you love them, in my place?”
he questioned in turn.
“And you have not even met my brother yet. I do not know a more worthless slug on the face of the earth than Edmund Spark, the current earl. Between Mama’s recriminations and Edmund’s petitions for relief from his debtors, do you have any doubts why I prefer the sea?”
She turned around to look into his arresting eyes, marveling again how fascinating they were up close.
“Would your reluctance for the land keep you from me?”
she asked.
He kissed her in answer, dropping the reins as the little kiss turned into a searching rediscovery of her mouth, neck, and eyes that left them both restless and the horse chewing grass by the side of the road.
“I am not the horseman for lovemaking in the saddle,”
the captain said as he gathered the reins again and coaxed the horse back onto the road.
“I merely had to assure you that was a silly question.”
“Was it?”
she murmured, half to herself, as the agony of unsettled love was replaced by a distinct chill that went heart before she could wish it away. I wonder what will happen when Mr. Futtrell brings you news of another ship.
They arrived at Spark’s estate too late for a good look at it in the fading autumn light.
“It’s always better by morning light, my love,”
he whispered in her ear as he reined to a stop in front of the well-lighted house.
“Early morning light, need I add?”
“Oh, please, not before eight bells,”
she said, trying to keep her eyes open.
He laughed, handed her down, and dismounted with a groan.
“I know this man’s natural state is a quarterdeck, and not the back of a quadruped,”
he said, then picked her up and started toward the steps.
“Here, Hannah, you knock on the door. My hands are full,” he said.
“Not until you put me down,”
she said, then touched his cheek, closing her eyes when he kissed her palm and her wrist, where the pulse beat faster.
“If I marry you, you can carry me over the threshold, but not now.”
“Spoilsport,”
he said, and lowered her to her feet. He knocked and the door was opened by a handsome woman in cap and apron who held out her hands to them both.
“Captain,”
she said, taking his hand and Hannah’s.
“You’ve been too long away. This is Hannah Whittier?”
she asked, her eyes on Hannah, her smile of welcome genuine.
“The very same. Hannah, may I introduce my housekeeper, Mrs. Paige? She raised me and I purloined her from the family estate, when I bought this place. Edmund is still smarting from that piece of impertinence, by the way, as the bailiff came with her.”
In a few minutes they were in the kitchen, eating almond cake with icing so gooey that Hannah could only roll her eyes and follow one bite with another one.
“My love, I think you can see why only a few of these bring me right back up to my precruise tonnage,”
Spark said as he scooped up more icing with his finger, dodged Mrs. Paige’s slap, and stuck his finger in his mouth. He leaned back finally and patted his flat stomach.
“Now I am home! Mrs. Paige, how do you do?”
“Excellently well, sir,”
said the housekeeper, who sat next to Hannah with her hands folded in her lap.
“Your mother is already in bed with a hot water bottle. She was sure you had been delayed by pirates or smugglers, so I gave her a sleeping draught.”
“Bless you, Mrs. Paige,”
Daniel said fervently. He glanced at Hannah, who was hard put to keep her eyes open.
“Lady Amber here doesn’t need a sleeping draught. Did you put her in the corner room?”
“As you wished, Captain,”
said Mrs. Paige as she rose to her feet and picked up a candle by the kitchen door.
“I believe Mr. Paige has already put her trunk in there. Come, little one, let me show you upstairs.”
“I can do that,”
said the captain, his eyes lively.
“No, sir! You can eat another piece of cake,”
said Mrs. Paige firmly as she took hold of Hannah’s arm and helped her up.
“Plenty of time for that later. Right my dear?”
Hannah nodded and smiled at Spark.
“No, remember, not too early.”
She was asleep almost as soon as Mrs. Paige helped her into her nightgown and pulled back the bedcovers. She sank into the feather bed with a sigh, burped from the effects of almond cake at ten o’clock, murmured “Excuse me,”
and closed her eyes. She thought she recalled someone coming into her room later to stand by the bed, and then brush her cheek with his own, but she couldn’t be sure. It may have been a dream. Heaven knew she was dreaming about Captain Spark more than she should, anyway. The impression that he needed a shave led her to believe it was not a nighttime fantasy, but she was too drugged with sleep to explore the matter beyond patting his face, murmuring something nonsensical that made him chuckle, and surrendering unconditionally to the mattress.
She woke to a world of sunlight and lay with her eyes closed, waiting for the sound of birds. But it was September now, and they had flown to South America, or at least New Orleans. But no, this was England, not Nantucket. The songbirds of an English summer would be in Spain, or over the Pillars of Hercules to North Africa. She opened her eyes then, wondering why she felt like she was home.
Without raising her head from the pillow, she stretched luxuriously and looked around the room, her eyes opening wider with delight. The curtains were simplest muslin and fluttered slightly in the breeze that came through the barely open window. The walls were pale blue, with no ornamentation beyond a sampler with a Bible verse. Intrigued, she raised up on her elbow to admire the severe bureau, and smiled to herself. There was no mirror on the bureau, and the room smelled suspiciously of new paint.
“Daniel, what has thee been up to?”
she murmured out loud, and threw back the bedcovers. Her bare feet trod plain boards to the window and she curled up in the window seat for her first view of the ocean. Tears sprung to her eyes. The view was a powerful reminder of Nantucket, with the sea, such a deep blue that her heart flopped, peeping like an afterthought through the trees in the distance. She glanced around the sparse room again, and her heart was full to bursting. I could almost be home, she thought. Oh, I do love you, Daniel Spark.
She closed the window and climbed back in bed, amazed that it was possible to feel so good with her stomach rumbling for breakfast and her eyes still foggyfrom sleep. She folded her hands gently across her stomach and stared at the ceiling.
“Hannah Whittier, thee is loved, truly thee is,”
she whispered.
Someone knocked at the door. She knew it was too firm a knock for Mrs. Paige, and she gloried in that knowledge.
“Oh, please come in. Captain Spark,”
she said, sitting up and tucking the bedclothes demurely around her, even as she wondered if her hair was as unruly as she suspected.
He carried a tray with a teapot and two cups, and his eyes seemed even lighter against that pale blue background. He stood in the doorway, just looking at her until she put her hands to her hair.
“I know I am a fright, but thee needn’t stare so,”
she said at last when he closed the door with his foot, his eyes still on her.
“Idiot,”
he said, his voice unsteady as he put the tray on the table by the bed, sat down beside her, and took her in his arms without another word. In a moment he was lying next to her, his hands in her hair, smoothing it back even as he kissed her over and over, each kiss more insistent than the one before.
She could scarcely form thoughts in her mind as she kissed him back, beyond wanting to pull back the covers and invite him under them with her. She heard his shoes hit the floor and knew he had the same idea, but the sudden sound on the bare boards brought her around. She pushed herself away from him, even as her whole body cried out for him to come closer.
“Please stop,” she said.
“I don’t want to.”
“Stop anyway.”
she insisted.
“Damn,”
he said, and his voice was wistful as he caressed that curse into a loving epithet “Time is so short, Hannah, I hate to waste it.”
He didn’t move from her side, but flopped onto his stomach and turned his head to watch her.
“Well, do you like your room?”
She nodded, her eyes delighted as she touched his back lightly at first, and then with a firmer gesture. He closed his eyes as she rubbed his back. ‘Thank thee for this room. I felt I was home,”
she said finally when she stopped.
“That was my intention. I am an unscrupulous lover, Lady Amber, and don’t you forget it. I’ll do anything to keep you here.”
“You even took out the mirror,”
she marveled.
“How did you know?”
“Oh, it was something you said during those damnable midnight watches when you were telling me everything you knew, to keep me awake. I couldn’t find a rag rug for the floor, however.”
“How will I ever know what I look like?”
she teased as he sat up and put on his shoes again.
He turned to her suddenly, his face more serious than she had ever seen him.
“You can see yourself in my eyes, beloved,”
he said, his voice soft.
“I will be your mirror.”
“Then I will marry thee,” she said.
“Done, madam!”
he shouted and grabbed her up from the bed, whirling her around.
“You won’t go back on that?”
“I couldn’t,”ont> she said and stood on tiptoe for another kiss.
He hugged her so tightly that her ribs hurt.
“No, I do not suppose you could,”
he said.
“Hannah. I love you, but God knows, this is not going to be an easy thing.”
He took her by the hands and held her away from him, gazing at her with a light in his eyes that set her whole body tingling.
He led her to the windowseat, sat down, and patted the space beside him.
“I suppose we always come back to your list, Miss Whittier.”
She smiled and touched his lips with her finger.
“I do consider thy welfare above my own, or I never would have said yes.”
“Then I suppose there is nothing to do but write my solicitor and plot the next course, Lady Amber, which will involve some legal thrust and parry,”
he said, leaning back against the window frame, never taking his eyes from her face.
She blushed.
“Do not stare so, my love!”
she protested.
“I cannot help myself,”
be confessed.
“I never thought that in the middle of war and national emergency, I would find my wife.”
He broke his gaze finally and took her left hand in his, turning it over.
“I may even have a diamond or an emerald suitable for an engagement ring.”
She drew her hand away.
“No, none of that,”
she said, her eyes wide with dismay.
“We Friends do not hold with such fashion, Daniel. Nothing more than a plain gold band, if that, once we are wed.”
“It’s not enough for you,”
he protested.
“It is more than enough,”an> she insisted, her voice firm, “just as this plain room suits me.”
He smiled finally, and touched her under the chin.
“I never anticipated that a wife would be so economical!”
He got to his feet and stretched.
“Well, at least allow me one indulgence.”
“What?”
she asked, her eyes merry.
“Let me have an engagement party within the week to introduce you to your neighbors.”
“Well ....”
“You need to know them, considering that you will be falling back on their society when I am gone.”
He watched her face.
“What, my love?”
he asked, his voice gentle.
“Nothing,”
she murmured, wondering at the chill that settled around her heart with his words so casually spoken, even as the window glass warned her back and promised a sunny day.
“I suppose I am just hungry.”
He nodded.
“Mrs. Paige has breakfast waiting for you. Get dressed and I will join you. Then it’s off to the bookroom to compose a letter to my solicitor.”
He paused in the open door.
“Mama will come into her own here, my love. No one plans a party better. Lively now.”
If Lady Spark was disappointed with her son’s news of his engagement and impending marriage, the carrot of a party dangled before her eyes took away any misgivings.
“It will take two heads to have everything ready by Thursday.”
She shook a warning finger at her son, who was finishing his coffee by the window and grinning at her.
“That means Hannah is my property until this party is over! Now, go on to the bookroom and write your letters.”
Hannah was composing invitations in the bookroom as soon as luncheon was over and Daniel returned from the village. He scooped her out of the chair pulled up to the desk, sat down, and pulled her onto his lap as she shrieked and made a grab to hold the inkwell as it teetered over a completed invitation.
“Thee is a sore distraction,”
she exclaimed as he moved the inkwell out of her reach and took the quill from her hand.
“Then pay some attention to me for a few minutes, Hannah!”
he insisted, nuzzling her neck at that junction by her jaw where his lips seemed to fit so naturally.
“Much better,”
he said after a moment. He rested his chin on her shoulder.
“I mailed that letter and also spoke to my solicitor here. He said that once we have that writ of chancery, we can even be married by special license, and waive the banns.”
She nodded, her eyes closed, and rested against him, wondering how it was that someone as hard and unyielding as Captain Spark on his quarterdeck could be so soft to lean upon.
“Do you suppose we can find a Quaker preacher to marry us?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Thee does not perfectly understand, Daniel. When I said I would marry thee, that also means that I am severing ties with my church. They will read me out of Meeting at home when my parents learn of this.”
Her quiet words hung in the silent room. Daniel got up and set her back in the chair, sitting on the edge of the desk so he could look at her, his face serious.
“I had no idea, my love. You’re giving up everything you hold dear for me, aren’t you?”
She nodded, unable to speak for a moment. She composed herself, but could not look at him.
“Now, if thee was to become a Friend someday, then we could be welcomed into Meeting again.”
He shook his head.
“I do not think the Friends would have much patience with a man who deals in death.”
He took her hand and kissed it.
“I hope I am worth all this.”
“So do I,”
she said and picked up the quill again.
The invitations were mailed the following morning. Spark braved his mother’s threats to take Hannah with him in the gig to the village to post the letters.
“I promise to return her promptly,”
he said as he dumped the invitations in Hannah’s lap and gathered up the reins.
“You had better,”
Lady Spark insisted.
“If we are to sit thirty at dinner tomorrow night, I need Hannah more than you do!”
“Thirty? Do I have that many friends in Dorset?”
he teased.
“Very well, Mama. If I had known what a lot of trouble this was going to be, we would have eloped to Scotland and married over the anvil!”
Lady Spark delivered such a stem look at her son that he shuddered elaborately when she was out of sight.
“You’ll need to take a look in my bedroom and tell me what you want changed,”
he said as they rode along.
“I have an even better view of the sea, and the bed is wider.”
She blushed.
“Does this mean I cannot keep my little room?”
“I was thinking it would make an excellent nursery.”
Eyes on the narrow lane, he lifted her hand to his lips.
“I do not plan to come home from sea and find you down the hall from my bed. God knows, as it is, I’ll be away from you too much to suit me without having to knock on your door when the mood strikes. There would be a regular trough the wood to your door.”
Thee needn’t be away from me at all, she thought as she settled against his shoulder. She looked at him to speak, but he shook his head.
“I know what you’re going to say,”
he said.
“It doesn’t bear thinking on, because I will not leave the sea.”
The day passed quickly enough, following Lady Spark’s orders as she polished silver with Mrs. Paige, arranged autumn bouquets in vases, and accepted the replies that poured back from the invitations. Who are these people, she thought as she fingered the notes with their unfamiliar names. Will they like me? Will I be too quaint for them? If, as Daniel suspects, our countries will soon be at war, will they turn their backs on me? She gazed at the notes, a frown on her face, until Lady Spark dragged her away to another task.
It wasn’t until the house was quiet and the dowager was in bed with a headache that she found solace in Daniel’s arms. How is it, she thought as he held her close, that thee can kiss away my fears and leave me so shaky with love? She clung to him, knowing that the smallest gesture from him would send her over the top and into his bed without a single regard for everything she had been taught since childhood.
She spent a restless night more agitated than the one before and woke long before dawn, bleary-eyed and discontent. She sighed and tried to return to sleep, burrowing deep into the mattress and knowing that it was hopeless. She would only toss and turn, filled with desire and worry, until Daniel came into her room with tea and confidence enough for them both. She firmly resolved to be sitting in the window seat when he came in. The pleasure in his eyes on seeing her in the morning had been replaced by something much more intense now. There was a hunger in his gaze that made her gulp and hope the chancery writ would not be long in coming.
She heard a carriage on the gravel drive and got up, hurrying to the window to look out. It was the Spark carriage, and not the gig used for everyday trips into the village. As she watched out of curiosity, Mr. Paige carried out the new sea chest Daniel had bought the day before, and on which she had stenciled SPARK in large letters only last night.
“No,”
she said out loud. Hardly darg to breathe, she threw on her clothes, ran a comb through her curly hair tousled from a night’s agitation, then hurried down the stairs without her shoes or stockings. “No,”
she said again, louder this time, as she ran to the open door.
Daniel, dressed in his uniform, stood by the carriage, speaking to Mr. Futtrell. He looked at her with real delight and grasped her by the shoulders, nearly lifting her off the ground.
“My love, this is too famous! Mr. Futtrell brought such news last night after you went to bed.”
Futtrell, fully uniformed, tipped his tall hat to her.
“We have a ship, Miss Whittier! A ship!”
She could think of nothing to say, but it did not matter. Spark was not listening or even looking at her. He spoke over her shoulder to Mrs. Paige.
“When my other uniforms come from their alterations in the village, have them posted to the H.M.S. Clarion in Portsmouth harbor.”
He picked Hannah up off the ground.
“My darling, it is a commerce raider of the new Falmouth class!”
“There is a party tonight,”
she reminded him, her voice subdued.
He set her down and grinned at her.
“My orders say to report at once to oversee refitting, Hannah.”
He turned away, his voice impatient with command.
“Mr. Futtrell, do you have any idea how she handles under all sail?”
“Surely tomorrow would be soon enough,”
she said, her back straight, her hands twisted tightly in front of her. He was not listening, and she repeated herse
“I couldn’t possibly wait that long, my dear,”
he said and nodded to the coachman, who climbed into the box.
She stood in silence for a long moment, taking in the coach ready to travel, and the sun only just now coming over the horizon.
“Daniel, you were going to leave without saying goodbye, weren’t you?”
“I left a note in the front hallway,”
he replied as he opened the carriage door.
“I’ll be back in a couple of weeks, when things are in order. We’ll have a few days before we sail for the blockade to get married.”
“You’re leaving me to face a houseful of guests tonight that I do not even know?”
“You’ll do fine,”
he said carelessly.
“Come, Mr. Futtrell. There’s not a moment to lose.”
She began to cry, the tears sliding down her cheeks.
“I did not think thee was so heartless,”
she gasped through her tears.
He took her arm then and pulled her close until they were chest to chest.
“It’s war, my dear.”
He kissed her hair.
“Forgive me if I sound sentimental, but England sorely needs what I do best. The sooner I am back on the blockade, the sooner some other poor captain can put into port before he goes crazy with the strain.”
He ruffled her hair.
“But I’m only going now to get the revictualing started. I’ll be back before you know it.”
He kissed her one more time and climbed into the carriage, closing the door behind him. The coachman snapped his whip and they were off down the lane.
She was still standing barefoot on the gravel drive when the sun rose and Mrs. Paige, her eyes filled with tears of her own, came out to help her inside.