Chapter Thirteen #2
What? She thinks it, and then she says it out loud, “What?”
“You want to marry, don’t you? We’re a good fit. Admit it. We’re a good fit in every which way—as we have just discovered. And it would mean you’d no longer have to live in a state poorer than the least fortunate of my tenants.”
She pushes herself up on her elbow. The hammock swings dangerously. “That’s what this is about? You want to save me from being poor?” Her new life may lack many things, but a savior is not one of them. “I’m fine as I am.”
“I don’t want to save you. I’m telling you I want to marry you. Do you not wish to?”
She does. Everything in her screams it: I do, I do, I do.
But he doesn’t, not really. He only feels sorry for her, for her widowhood, her poverty, and now also for the fact that he has bedded her.
England Expects That Every Man Will Do His Duty.
Lord Nelson’s words, swimming in her mind.
Is that what this is? she thinks. Does Jack believe it’s his duty to wed her, since he bedded her?
And even if he did truly wish to marry her, would she want to marry again? As a widow, she has her freedom. She isn’t sure she could give it up, even for love. To buy time, she says, “We’ve met only, what, four weeks ago?”
Jack says, “We know each other better than many couples after years of courting. We’re well suited to each other. What more could one hope for in a marriage?” He sounds exasperated. “Did you think I hadn’t considered these things before I took you to bed?”
Seeing her expression, he says, “I see. You thought I bedded you on impulse, without any consideration for your future, your feelings, or your honor.”
So this lies at the heart of it. She’s glad of his consideration, but if this is how he feels, then what will he think when he hears of the rumors about her and James?
If she were to accept his proposal, she’d have to tell him.
And he’d believe her, wouldn’t he, if she told him she and James only ever shared the close rapport of friends; he wouldn’t hold that proximity against her the way people in Greenwich did.
She’s sure of it—almost. But what if she’s wrong?
When she doesn’t say anything, he says bitterly, “That is what you think of me.”
“Jack…” She takes a deep breath. “You break the law for a living. I thought…”
“This means I must therefore act the villain in all aspects of life, is that it?”
“I suppose I did. I’m sorry.”
He sighs. “I’m saying this all wrong. Let me try once more to rectify your prejudice against me.
I’d like to marry you, Isabel Henley, if you’ll have me.
I’ll go down on my knees to ask you if you want it done properly.
I realize both of us lying naked in a hammock is not the traditional way, but I mean every word.
I want to marry you, not to save you or because I feel I owe it to you after taking you to bed, but because I believe you’ll make a good wife for me and I would try my hardest to make a good husband. ”
She nearly begins to weep again. To hide her confusion, she buries her face in his chest. “I don’t know. It’s complicated. Since George…”
“If you need more time, you have it. My proposal stands for as long as you need to come to a decision. But it has been three years since he died, hasn’t it?”
“Yes, but…It’s because of George, but it’s also because…” She looks up at him again. “Jack, I don’t expect you to understand, but I’m living my own life for the first time. Independently, with no man ruling my fate, not my father, nor my husband. I don’t know that I could give it up.”
“I wouldn’t curb your freedom, if that’s what you fear.”
“I know, but once I marry again, it’s curbed, no matter what your views on it are. Society says it is. The law says it.”
She’s glad to see him smile again. “Have you not realized I hold the law in no great regard?”
She touches the line on his shoulder, the scar from the cutlass. “Would you let me sail with you if we were married?”
“Of course not. It’s far too dangerous.” A chuckle, then, “So that’s what you’re after, is it? A ship, not a husband?”
Both, she thinks, if I could have them. If I could still be free. But going to sea and being married are two opposing things. One rules out the other. George would never have allowed her to come on this voyage. And neither would Jack if she were his wife.
“Look,” Jack says. “I’m well aware what I’m asking of you.
As long as my identity remains concealed, you’d be marrying John Carlyon, owner of the Roskorwell estate.
The doors of society would be open to you, and you would not lack for anything.
But the moment my name becomes known as the captain of the Rapide, you’d be facing a different future.
Those doors would close to you at once. No one would admit you to their houses, their dinner tables—”
“Do you think I care about that? They were closed to me once before,” she says quietly.
“Perhaps not. I expect your recent experiences have hardened you to this possibility. And there would still be money for a while, but without any more coming in, you’d eventually find yourself poor again.
” He pauses. “Which is another circumstance you have grown somewhat used to these past weeks. It’s not what I would wish, but I know if it were to happen, it wouldn’t break you.
So you see why I believe you’re the perfect match for me. ”
“But Jack—”
“Shh. Let me finish, if you please. There’s one more thing.
If I were to be arrested, I’d stand a good chance of being acquitted.
Most juries are on our side. But if I were killed in action or that bastard Sowerby got hold of me, you’d lose a husband a second time.
And if in time you would grow to care for me as you did for George or even love me as you did him, if I could hope for that, the loss would be all the harder.
I understand it’s a lot to ask that you would expose yourself to the danger of such heartache once more.
I want you to know I’m not asking lightly. ”
“But I already do,” she says. “Care for you like that, I mean.” And love you, she thinks, but she cannot say this, not yet. It’s too soon, too raw. “It’s only…I need time. I need to think.”
“Of course. And you shall have it, but if you won’t give me your answer now, then what do you want to do for the time being?”
Quietly she says, “I’d like to carry on as before.”
“Would that be before I took you to bed or after?”
“After,” she says, reddening. “If you don’t object to the arrangement.”
She feels his laughter in her chest, like a flock of birds. He says, “I knew you held singular ideas, but I didn’t expect they’d be quite this unorthodox. Of course I don’t object to the arrangement. What man would? But you will consider my proposal, won’t you?”
“Naturally. I will, Jack. And thank you, for—”
“Attempting to rescue you from poverty?”
Now she laughs, too. “For being kind to me.”
“Kind is not the word I’d use. Impassioned, rather. Tell me this. May I hope for a favorable response, in time?”
Yes! All of her screams it, but she hears herself say, “I believe so. I just have to think for a while.”
“Take as long as you need. In the meantime, we’ll carry on as before.” His hand slips down as he kisses her again. “Like this. And like this.”
She sighs into him. Against her lips, he says, “Are you in need of sleep?”
His fingers make the stars come out in her skin. In kisses, in sighs, she says, “Not yet.”
—
On the morning of the last day of the voyage, over another breakfast of beans and bread from France, which has by now grown hard as rock, Jack says, “We’ll have sight of land soon.”
“Yes,” she says, wishing it wasn’t so. She can’t stop smiling—at him, at the ship, at Tom, who brought the breakfast from the galley and who chuckled so knowingly her face grew as hot as the beans on her plate.
“We’ll have to stand out until nightfall. Once we’re anchored, I’ll have one of the crew accompany you home.”
“Couldn’t I help with the unloading?”
“It’ll take most of the night.”
“I’ll stay,” she says.
He laughs, saying, “You mad thing,” with such affection it makes her heart billow.
“This has been our most successful run yet. Thank you, Tom,” as the steward refills their glasses.
Turning back to Isabel, Jack says, “I’ll pay you as one of the crew.
God knows you look it, dressed as you are, and you’ve pulled your weight in terms of the work.
Come to think of it, as we’re to avoid Coverack and Lizard after what Sowerby told you, we may have need of your shed.
In that case we’ll all see you home. We’ll have to see what the situation is like tonight. ”
“You may use the shed anytime.” Her eyes water as she burns her tongue on the coffee.
“That’d be another two percent on top of your fee as a member of the crew,” he says. “You’ll make a pretty penny.”
“It was never about that.”
“I know. But you’re not going to be stubborn and refuse payment, are you? You could use the money.”
“Yes,” she says. “And no, I won’t refuse payment.” She watches the steam rise from her coffee. After a moment, she says, “I wish the journey wasn’t coming to an end.”
Jack taps his glass. “About that. I may as well tell you now.”
“Tell me what?”
“The crew has petitioned me to keep you on for the next few runs. They reckon you bring the ship good fortune, which is funny, as you know what they say about women on board. Ill luck and all that. But not you, they say. Between that first night, when you worked with them on deck while it blew a gale, and the general success of the run, not to mention this mightily favorable wind, they’re convinced. ”
She stares at him over the edge of her glass. Is he saying what she thinks he’s saying? She quickly gulps down some more coffee, scalding her tongue and throat this time. “Convinced of what?”