Chapter IX
IX
Night after night, she prayed for James’s return.
But her prayers were not answered. Time passed, and eventually, the dreaded day came: cool but sunny, the church festooned with garlands of autumn roses.
Bess was dressed in a gown of antique lace with a low neck and (fortunately) high waistline.
Her hair was thick and lustrous and her skin glowed; she looked every inch the beautiful bride.
Perfect on the outside, but dying inside.
Robert was tall and prim in a dark tailcoat and well-pressed cravat. Handsome – she had to admit it. But so dour, so lacking in humour and laughter. Nothing like his cousin – nothing at all.
If things had been different, she might have embarked on this union with resolve and hope – antidotes to the natural trepidation of any young bride.
But things were not different, and reality was too awful to contemplate.
Momentarily dizzy, she placed a hand on her belly and felt the babe kick.
A strong spark of life – and her last desperate hope.
The ceremony began; her lips moved by rote. Finally, the words of her damnation were spoken…
‘I now pronounce you man and wife.’
Tears rolled down her cheeks as his cold lips touched hers.
* * *
Whatever phantoms had invaded her nightmares prior to her marriage, they in no way compared to the grimness of reality.
Her husband was cruel and demanding. In the darkest part of the night, he came to her, forcing himself upon her without preamble or even a word of endearment.
She lay there, enduring the pain and shame, her face wet with tears, praying that it would be over quickly and that he would not discover her secret.
How had it come to this? How could she live another day, let alone a lifetime?
She was fortunate only in that her husband’s business affairs kept him often away in Truro or Bodmin, and she had hours to weep and fear and ride the cob across the moors.
Her one solace was visiting Maggie, whose warm, hearty laugh and nettle tea with strong medicinal spirits dispelled the numbness in her bones.
In her room at Polgothley, she placed the ship in a bottle on her windowsill, but every day, she held it in her hands, praying for the return of its maker.
She had discovered a hidden compartment in the stand which contained a rolled-up love note.
That note was a lifeline – she read it so many times that the paper began almost to disintegrate.
But the sweet words of the man she loved burned in her mind like a brand.
He would come for her; he was hers forever.
Night after night, she waited, sitting at the window with her candle, staring out to sea.
But all she ever saw was her own reflection in the glass.
When she’d spoken to Maggie about her marital woes, she’d been shocked to learn that Maggie was wed to the notorious rogue Old John Dog.
Bess had heard gossip amongst the servants about the man’s black heart and ruthless deeds, and though she had never laid eyes on him, she feared even the mention of his name.
‘We got hitched when I was younger than you,’ Maggie said with a long sigh.
‘Back then, he was tolerable – and handsome, if you can believe it. He gave me two fine sons – they live up in the north county, and have sons of their own.’ Her face clouded.
‘But over time, the drink – it gets to a man. ’Tis ten years ago I threw out the lout.
Got sick of him wrecking ships in my cove and hiding contraband in my caves. ’
‘Oh!’ Bess said.
‘Aye. I wanted to be respectable, and he don’t know the meaning of the word. There’s mine shafts and tunnels in these cliffs that lead all the way to Lord Robert’s place. When Old John started to attract his notice, I’d had enough. I don’t need enemies, let alone powerful ones.’
‘And what of John now?’ Bess said. Despite her friend’s account, the man still made her fearful.
‘He’s mostly up in Falmouth now. Beds down in a crib by the docks doing odd jobs.
Gets word of the comings and goings of all the ships, and makes a little on the side helping his mates who are trying to avoid the notice of the customs men.
Stores their goods for them and whatnot. But not below my inn – not any more.’
‘It sounds very… enterprising.’
Maggie laughed. ‘You could say that, maid. And keep in mind that round here, folks are poor and decent jobs are hard to come by. We all get by as best we can.’
‘I see,’ Bess said, ‘though I’m sorry to hear it.’
‘Oh, don’t be,’ Maggie said. ‘Old John and I are still on good terms – absence makes the heart grow fonder, and all that.’
‘I suppose it does,’ Bess said. ‘Especially when there is little hope of a reunion in this lifetime.’
‘Now don’t you be losing hope,’ Maggie said. ‘If James said he’ll come, then he’ll come.’
Bess put a hand to her rounded stomach. ‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘But I fear that even if he does, it will be too late.’
‘It won’t be,’ Maggie said. She poured more brandy into the cup, this time without the tea.
‘Here’s what we’re going to do. When it’s your time, you come here to me.
I’ll see you right, and the babe too. I’ve helped dozens of babes into the world when no doctor could be found.
Play your cards right, and your husband need not be the wiser.
And when Captain James returns… well… that part will be up to you. ’
‘Bless you!’ Bess said. Knowing that she had a friend and ally in Maggie made her spirits soar. ‘From the bottom of my heart, I am grateful for your kindness.’
Maggie shook her head. ‘Good luck, Bess dear. You’re going to need it.’