Chapter 25
“Will you bless the food, Mr. Weiss?” Mrs. Bowers asked. The table was filled with the crew of the Maelstrom—sans Whisper and others who’d joined their families in the mission—plus Patrice, Mr. Ashby, and me.
The bishop stood and we all bowed our heads to give thanks.
The food was passed around the table as if it were a casual family dinner.
There truly was no formality here. I wondered what Mr. Weiss and his wife thought of it, having come from the church headquarters in North Carolina.
It must be vastly different from the society they were used to.
Then again, I knew very little of society in the United States.
They seemed to assimilate well enough. Perhaps the church was not much different there.
“Mrs. Bowers, you told me that finances have been tight recently. Now that we’ve arrived, I’d like to see to the ledgers and help find ways to improve the budget at the mission,” Mr. Weiss said to the mission’s patroness.
As guests of the house, Patrice, Mr. Ashby, and I sat near Mrs. Bowers, and I heard the conversation very clearly.
“Certainly, I’ll get those to you directly.
I’d be glad of the help. There have been shortages all over the world because of droughts.
But sugarcane hasn’t been highly profitable these past years due to policy changes in Britain and America.
My bookkeeping abilities are somewhat…amateur.
I do well when the income is plentiful, but it’s hard to make ends meet when I have to move things around too much.
” She laughed, showing her good nature even as she was self-deprecating.
“I know someone who is exceptional at making ends meet,” I suggested, looking pointedly at Mr. Ashby.
He wiped his mouth. “I have adequate experience in that area.” He nodded to Mrs. Bowers and Mr. Weiss.
“Oh, what fortune!” Mrs. Weiss exclaimed, placing a supportive hand on her husband’s arm. “Not only are they my life saviors, but they will save our budget too.”
Everyone who was part of the conversation laughed, gaining attention from the rest of the table.
“What’s this?” Captain Whitmore said from the other end of the table. “What is so funny down there, Mary?”
“Gareth, must you cut into a conversation so far away from you?” Mrs. Bowers said with a smile.
“Indeed I must, if I’m more interested in another conversation than my own. No offense to you, Eliza,” he told Elizabeth next to him. She didn’t seem offended in the least, but turned her attention to our end of the table with just as much interest as her captain.
“Mr. Ashby here can help us with bookkeeping,” Mrs. Bowers explained. “We were just commenting on how fortunate we are to have people who can save both lives and budgets.”
“I see. Well, that is not very humorous, but I congratulate you on finding someone who can add and subtract better than you. Mr. Ashby, might you find some room in the budget for a new hat? I saw Ol’ Jacque’s lavish hat and have a sudden desire to match him.
I know we are sworn enemies and all, but I do like his style.
” Captain Whitmore spoke first to Mrs. Bowers, then to Mr. Ashby, then the entire room with alacrity.
“I’ll do what I can, Captain,” Mr. Ashby said with a grin.
Chuckles echoed throughout the room. The captain’s humor and personality were starting to grow on me. He seemed to be cherished by everyone. “So we have a job for Mr. Ashby. What about our two new young ladies? Do you have a preference in occupation?” Captain Whitmore continued in his blunt way.
“It seems Lottie has taken to Patrice. She’s asked me if she can keep her,” Mrs. Bowers said with a laugh.
Patrice replied positively. “I would be glad to be adopted by Lottie, Mistress. To serve this house seems like a dream.”
“Well, that’s very kind of you, dear. I’ll welcome you as staff if that’s what you want.”
“It is, thank ye.” Patrice bowed her head slightly. So her future on the estate seemed set. How lengthy that future was, I had no idea. Would we be here for months, perhaps years, before Graham regained his memories and returned to Scotland? To leave without him was unconscionable.
“And we are down to one,” Captain Whitmore said.
I bit my lip. “I’m afraid I have no obvious talent that I can contribute, but I’m happy to help wherever I can.”
“I have to visit the mill tomorrow, Miss Findlay. You may join me if you wish,” Elizabeth said to me.
I met her eyes with surprise. Nodding, I told her I’d be glad to. I wondered why she’d spoken up, inviting me personally to aid her in something? Spending time with someone so extraordinary made nerves course through me. She intimidated me, and I strangely didn’t want to disappoint her.
“Have you heard anything from Whisper yet?” Mrs. Bowers asked Captain Whitmore.
“No, I don’t expect to until tomorrow. He’ll keep his ear to the sea for anything about Ol’ Jacque, though. I told him to tell us right away if there are rumors of revenge.”
Mrs. Bowers nodded, sighing. “L’Audacieux has always wanted revenge on the Maelstrom, but this might be the first time they’ve connected it with the mission. You said he certainly heard you specifically tell your crew to save Mr. Weiss?”
Captain Whitmore sighed. “Yes, I'm afraid so.”
“Do you think saving us put the estate in danger, too?” Mr. Weiss wondered. If the mission was suspected of being allied with the Maelstrom, it would not be a stretch to implicate Mrs. Bowers as well.
“The Maelstrom has long been a thorn in Captain Corsaire’s side. It would not surprise me if he decided to target me and the estate. He’d only need to use the other planters on the island and their hatred for my unorthodox methods to bring us down,” Mrs. Bowers replied.
“It would be a mutually beneficial alliance,” Mr. Ward said from down the table. “I heard the blacksmith on the Grant estate say his master has long wished for your demise. It is not a well-kept secret that some planters are still smuggling people to enslave. Perhaps he is one of them.”
Mrs. Bowers clicked her tongue. “That Peter Grant nincompoop wouldn’t be able to kick me out if he had a hundred pirates at his disposal.” Laughter rippled through the room. But it couldn’t completely hide the tension that came from Mr. Ward’s report.
“I think we should still be prepared for a fight, Mary,” Elizabeth suggested.
“I can gather the villagers tomorrow and warn them to arm themselves in case something happens,” Graham added.
Mrs. Bowers nodded. “It never hurts to prepare. Go ahead and tell them, Slate.” She cleared her throat when she saw me. “I mean, Graham.” She smiled at me. “That must be hard to hear, your betrothed being called by another name.”
I held up my hands as the table became quiet, waiting for my reply. “No, I have gotten used to it,” I lied.
“I like it. Slate. It fits him. He’s always been a bit dim-witted,” Mr. Ashby offered with a grin.
Graham smiled sardonically. “Well, we cannae all be bookkeeping prodigies,” he said. His eyes widened slightly and his smile slipped. “Wait, have I said that before?”
Mr. Ashby nodded excitedly. “Yes, you used to tease me like that all the time. You have always thought my love of numbers quite comical.”
He nodded. “I…remember that vaguely.” He met Mr. Ashby’s gaze with something like familiarity.
Envy knotted in my gut. So he was beginning to remember Mr. Ashby…but not the woman he loved. It took effort to keep a smile on my face. “That is excellent, Graham. You’re beginning to remember.”
“How does it feel?” Elizabeth asked as she placed a hand on his arm. That small touch sent a burst of panic through me. He turned to her with bright eyes, as if he wished to share his joy with her. She responded in a similar way, her smile brilliant.
“On that happy note, why don’t we all retire to the drawing room and our forgetful friend can favor us all with a song?” Mrs. Bowers suggested.
My attention flew back to Graham, who was nodding.
So he still sang. The fretful feeling that had started inside my chest eased.
It was small things like that which made me believe in our future.
He was still Graham, deep down. If Graham was to sing, I would be fully invested.
If there was one thing I’d missed about him, it was his singing.
He had a uniquely rich baritone voice; I loved to know that those who had been taking care of him had discovered his talent, and that he took pride in performing as he used to.
Patrice stood and helped when Lottie came out to start cleaning the table. I almost stopped her, but I could tell she wanted to. Instead, I followed the party to the drawing room and sat next to Mr. Ashby.
When everyone was settled, Elizabeth took out a stringed musical instrument I was unfamiliar with and played the beginning of what sounded like “Amazing Grace.” When Graham began, it was confirmed.
His voice was as rich and clear as ever, but I had never heard him sing this song.
He normally only sang Scottish ballads or folk songs, not hymns.
It was obvious now that hymns suited his talent even more than folk songs.
The melody paired with his voice sent shivers up and down my arms. It was achingly beautiful.
When he finished, his eyes went to Elizabeth.
They grinned at each other and everyone clapped.
I suddenly wanted to disappear. That was precisely the expression he had reserved for me in the past, that tenderness and adoration.
If I was worried about their relationship before, I was completely convinced they had mutual feelings now.
I would have to have a frank conversation with Elizabeth tomorrow, and preparing for it would keep me awake all night.
“It’s good to see he still sings, isn’t it?” Mr. Ashby asked me. His tone sounded forcefully light. Perhaps he had been watching Graham and Elizabeth like me.
I couldn’t control my sigh. “Yes, it is a comfort to know that hasn’t changed.”
He looked at me then. “Will you be all right tomorrow? I can come with you if you prefer.”
“Why? Do you think I’ll do something rash?”
Smirking, he leaned into my shoulder and spoke low. “While I wouldn’t put it past you, I think you’re more tactful than that.”
“It depends on her behavior. The situation may call for less decorum than I am wont to display.” We exchanged a look, his eyes dancing with humor and a barely contained smile on my lips.
I stood and went to Graham, knowing I should say something to him.
I never knew when I could spark a memory in him.
“You sang beautifully, Graham. I remember many evenings spent at the castle singing together. My brother’s wife, Melody, even played the harp alongside you once. You used to sing Robert Burns’s poems so well,” I said with feeling.
“Did I?” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Would you be able to sing one for me? Perhaps that would bring something back.”
My heart lit with hope, but only for a second before I frowned. “I’m afraid my musical abilities leave much to be desired. Even if I tried singing it for you, you wouldn’t have one clue as to the actual tune.”
That elicited a smile from him. “Are ye that bad?”
I nodded, reciprocating his smile. “Truly, it’s awful.”
“Perhaps you could recite the poem instead,” Elizabeth offered at Graham’s right. Her suggestion was perfectly cordial and helpful. Yet my hackles raised slightly. It was ungracious of me, but in light of my confirmed suspicions, I felt threatened by Elizabeth. No matter how considerate she was.
“I suppose I could,” I responded despite my irritation at her reasonable suggestion. It was only half an hour ago that I’d admired the beautiful, confident woman.
Elizabeth nodded and smiled congenially. I couldn’t be sure whether she noticed my change toward her, but she seemed unaware. “Everyone, Miss Findlay will recite a poem for us.” She motioned to me to stand before the room.
“This is called ‘A Red, Red Rose’ by Robert Burns.” It was my favorite song Graham used to sing. I recited it directly to Graham, in hopes that even one word would break through the barrier he’d constructed between us.
O my Luve is like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve is like the melody
That’s sweetly played in tune.
So fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.
Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;
I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.
And fare thee weel…
I stumbled for a moment. The words hit my heart too painfully.
When had this song begun to mirror my life?
I had to swallow down tears as I looked at Graham.
I hoped the conflict I thought I saw in his eyes was real; I hoped he was struggling as I was struggling.
The memories of lovely moments we’d shared, the ones that had sustained me over the years, were not trivial.
I would show him the depth of our history.
Somehow, I was able to continue with a strong voice.
…my only luve!
And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my luve,
Though it were ten thousand mile.
Everyone applauded, but I didn’t smile. I was still staring at Graham, begging him to understand, to remember, to feel something toward me.
But there was no sign of recognition. His eyes were tight and his frown deepened before he looked down in apparent regret.
At least he had enough care for me that he regretted not being able to return my feelings.
I let out a breath and then tried to smile at everyone.
The clapping died down and I took my seat next to Mr. Ashby again.
I felt him watching me, but I couldn’t look at him.
I didn’t want to see the pity that was no doubt written on his face.
“Thank you for that, Miss Findlay,” Mrs. Bowers said at the front of the room.
“Does anyone else have something to perform? If not, let’s all get some sleep.
We have a busy day tomorrow, like always.
” General agreement went through the party, and everyone stood to make their way to bed.
I took my leave first, eager to be alone and formulate a plan to help Graham regain his memories and prevent any further feelings from developing between him and the goddess of a woman who had been by his side for months.