Chapter 19
Sophia finally left her room the following day.
Despite everything, she could not stay in her room for the rest of the voyage.
The next few days slipped past far too fast for her liking.
The other ladies played the harpsichord, hemmed handkerchiefs, wrote in their journals, and otherwise wiled away the time.
By tacit consent, no one suggested playing cards.
They made plans for Lisbon. Caroline wanted to see the Belem Tower and the Jerónimos Monastery, for she’d heard them much admired by ladies who had traveled to Portugal.
Captain Wentworth, who alone of them had been to Lisbon, agreed and also added that if there was time, they should visit the Feira da Ladra or Thieves’ Market.
“Is it quite safe?” Anne asked.
“I wouldn’t send you alone—or even with a maid—but for the most part, yes. It is not all thieves, although I am sure there are some. It is merely an open-air market with all sorts of curiosities, art, and historical treasures. My sister acquired several beautiful tiles there, among other things.”
All of this Sophia pretended to be interested in, while really her mind was centered on only two things: the thrice-cursed mail and Mr. Belvedere, still locked in his cabin.
The shore of the European continent became visible as a dark line on the fourth day of the week, and on the fifth day the shape of the Portuguese coast began to delineate itself.
And still the closed door to Mr. Belvedere’s cabin preyed on her mind. She found herself staring at it in spare moments. The silence from within was deafening, even in the midst of other noise. Was he angry? Was he despondent? Was he afraid or was he scheming?
Most importantly, why didn’t he turn on her? Was it possible that he was abiding by the promise he’d made her? Sophia’s poor heart writhed in uncertainty and guilt.
She could’ve drawn the dreadful door from memory by then. She knew the oak panels intimately and each knot and swirl. She knew the off-color corner, and the squeaking upper hinge. She knew the two dents that must have been made on a previous journey, and every splinter and scuff.
Every morning and evening she sat there for her meals, plus teatime, while the guilt gnawed at her. His door was situated near the head of the dining table and there was no escaping it. Sometimes the others would catch her staring. They tactfully pretended not to notice.
And if the bleak door hiding its silent, dreaded prisoner was not bad enough, she also had her task to complete.
It had seemed so simple once upon a time.
One letter to destroy in three or four weeks of sailing.
‘Twas a small price to pay to accompany Lady Marston on this journey. They would collect Sir Mark’s inheritance, Sophia would receive a small competence, and she would leave her former life far behind.
But it was impossible. There always seemed to be sailors about, or the surgeon sitting up late in the dining room with a lamp and a lexicon, or Captain Smythe leaving his cabin to walk the upper deck in the late reaches of the night.
That morning she encountered Captain Wentworth in the dark early hours, for he “always rose early when he was at sea. Could he perform any service for Mrs. Scott?”
She had run into each of them in turn and had given excuses. To fetch a maid, to get water, to stretch her legs… She did not so much as turn her eyes in the direction of the deeper cargo hold, but she knew she had only to twitch in that direction, and they would clap her up in her own cabin.
She finally managed a word with Lady Marston and told her so. “I cannot do it. I can’t. Perhaps with both of you helping me, it might be possible. But alone? No. And it is no use threatening me that we are almost there, for I have been threatening myself for days, and it is still impossible.”
Lady Marston, although cold and severe, was not an idiot. She saw the sincerity in Sophia’s desperation. “So you’ve failed. So be it, I will take a hand, but I hope you don’t expect the same amount of the inheritance.”
Sophia raised her chin, trying to sound firm. “You will hardly leave me with nothing when I might inform against you.”
Lady Marston’s fingers clenched. “Are you threatening me?”
“No… but I am reminding you of your promises.”
Lady Marston forced her claw-like hand to relax. “I think we understand one another. We have at least one day left and two nights. The captain says we will reach Lisbon tomorrow night if this wind holds, and then we can disembark the following morning.”
“So soon! I had an idea—if you were to request something from one of your trunks, perhaps we might go together to retrieve it. No one would dare let me in the cargo hold alone, but if you went with me, or even by yourself alone—”
“Do not be stupid, child. If I did want something from a trunk, I would send the steward to fetch it, or to fetch the trunk to me. And if I insisted upon going there, you can be sure he would accompany me.”
“Oh, that’s true, he probably would.”
“If only you’d had that idea before all this nonsense, it would’ve been to some purpose.”
“Yes. Ugh, I almost wish I had accepted Mr. Belvedere’s offer of help.”
“You told that bounder—”
“No, of course not! I told him nothing. But he knew he had not tampered with the mail or stolen the necklace, so he deduced it was me.”
Lady Marston gasped. “The necklace. That is the answer.”
“What?
“You shall have to act even more reprehensible than ever.” She looked down at Sophia. “But you had some idea of becoming an actress, did you not? It should be right up your alley.”
Sophia did not rise to the provocation. “What would I have to do?”
“You will confess that you had a double purpose in tampering with the mail on Mr. Belvedere’s behalf. You were to find the letter which condemned him, and you were to fetch the necklace, which he had hidden there in emergency.”
“No—I really cannot implicate him in anything further. And besides, that would have been so stupid. If he was there—why not take the incriminating letter at once—if it exists?”
“We can surmount that. He hid it there because he knew it was the only place on the ship that was sacrosanct. Perhaps he hoped to make a double job of it, but he was rushed and did not find the letter.”
“But then he will be blamed for the necklace also! They may lack evidence for the fraud—I can only hope they do!—but this will have witnesses. I can’t.”
“Fine, I will.”
“What?”
But Lady Marston was done waiting. She exited her cabin where they’d had their tête-à-tête.
“Where is Captain Smythe?” she demanded in stentorian tones of the second mate. “Where is he? I must speak to him at once.”
Captain Wentworth and Colonel Fitzwilliam were still up, playing dice at the importunity of Sir Mark, who had been ousted from his room while the ladies spoke. They looked at her inquiringly.
The young second mate trailed Lady Marston as she walked past them all into the short passageway which led to the frontmost two cabins.
“Er—er, the Captain retired just after dinner, ma’am. If it is urgent—”
“It is.” She knocked firmly.
“No,” said Sophia, catching up to her. “It isn’t. Let us talk before—”
“There you are!” Lady Marston said as Smythe opened his door. He was still dressed although his boots were off. “I’m afraid my naughty young companion has confessed the whole. I must request your assistance.”
“Of course, Lady Marston.” He looked none too approvingly at Sophia. He had taken her in even greater dislike after Captain Wentworth and the colonel convinced him not to press charges against her.
Sophia clutched Lady Marston’s wrist. “I must insist that you keep your tongue, ma’am.”
Her mother looked at her coldly. “Remove your hand, or I shall turn you over to the law myself.”
Sophia looked in her eyes and knew she spoke the truth. Her mother would watch Sophia imprisoned in a foreign country where she had no friends and no recourse and she would walk away. She would probably be glad to be rid of her.
Sophia released her hand.
“That’s better. I know you are embarrassed, but once the captain understands, we can put this whole terrible imbroglio behind us.”
She proceeded to the dining table, which was where all the serious discussions were held. Sophia had begun to hate this table and this room.
“The matter is thus,” Lady Marston said to the gentlemen, including the captain.
“It seems that Mr. Belvedere told Mrs. Scott that not only did he need to destroy the communication from the East India Company, he also hid my priceless amethysts in one of the three mail bags. It was his second attempt, I assume, but due to haste, he was unable to find the bulletin. He therefore stowed the necklace and slipped away, knowing it to be the safest place on the ship for stolen goods until he could return for it. I suppose he trusted to luck—or this na?ve young lady—to recover both.”
Only Sophia noted the flare of Lady Marston’s eyes as she looked at Sir Mark. She was warning him, no doubt, to be ready to produce the amethysts during this last, final “search.”
Despite what Lady Marston sometimes said, Sir Mark wasn’t a stupid man. He had been surprisingly kind to Sohpia. He looked a little sly as he caught her look, but he refrained from a broad wink or anything that would truly give the game away.
“I propose this,” said Lady Marston. “Send the steward to fetch the bags, and let us, on this very table, with the lamps lit, search them once and for all. I will have my necklace, and we can pretend that, at least, never happened.”
The captain frowned. “I understand your eagerness, ma’am, but it is highly irregular.
The bags are not to be opened. A counteroffer, ma’am: I will accompany the bags to the British consulate the moment we are anchored in the port, and I will not leave the consulate until I have seen with my own eyes if your stolen property is there. ”
“Oh, but the delay!” she protested. “We wish to wait on Sir Mark’s solicitor at once. Heaven knows how long they will deliberate—are we to kick our heels on the Lady Mary for another whole day?”
“If you are eager to be on land, tell me which hotel will be your temporary lodging. I will pledge to wait on you there as soon as possible.”
“Our plans are not settled—”
“What if you and Sir Mark were to accompany me to the consulate? You would be at hand for the return of your property, and it is just near the heart of the city. You would have ample accommodation near at hand.”
Lady Marston looked temporarily non-plussed. She needed the search to happen now, when she, Sophia, or Sir Mark could apprehend the letter that must not reach Lisbon.
“Captain Smythe, I understand your position,” said Sir Mark, unexpectedly entering the lists, “but I am fed up with this nonsense! All you will say is that the bags ‘are not to be opened.’ Well, they have been opened, my good man! Humbug, that’s what it is.
I insist we finish this! Send for the bags! ”
Captain Smythe looked plaintively at Captain Wentworth and Colonel Fitzwilliam. Caroline and Anne had joined them during the argument.
Caroline raised her hand. “Surely I am not the only one agog with curiosity! Is that wrong to say? We are all desperate to know, so may we compromise, Captain Smythe? Please?”
Richard supported her. “You have ample witnesses here, Captain. I do not think that your duties involve keeping stolen property from a baronet who has entrusted himself and his party to your care.”
Captain Wentworth nodded. “You would be within your rights to refuse, Captain Smythe, but I don’t feel you are incumbent to do so. I will back you if needed.”
The captain sighed, defeated. “As you say, sir.”
He was the only one so affected. On everyone else, including Sophia herself, the news was like a jolt of static electricity from a Leyden jar. She looked once more at Mr. Belvedere’s door and wrung her hands.