by Merry Farmer
Shoving the key into the door, Alana wrested with the lock, but it refused to budge. Checking the cabin number, she removed the key, inserting it again, wrenching it sideways. The key slipped, cutting her finger. Sucking on the side of her fingertip, she glared at the door. Why couldn’t she get into the cabin? What if they had moved her to the steerage, stealing Aidan’s money and subjecting her to the worst conditions possible for the whole of three weeks? A sob escaped her lips.
“There’s no need to cry,” a soft voice spoke from behind Alana.
She jumped with a scream, and spun around, hastily wiping away the dampness collecting on her cheeks. Hovering in the doorway of the cabin across from hers, a tall woman leaned against the frame, fanning herself with her hat.
“Is it your first trip?” She stepped across the tiny corridor, placing a kind hand on Alana’s shoulder.
“No.” Alana inhaled slowly, swiping at one more tear. “I’ve sailed many times; however, this is my first time crossing the Atlantic.” She gestured at the cabin. “I can’t unlock the door.”
“Allow me to help you.” Putting her hat atop her head, she leaned around Alana, pulling the key from the lock, then spun around, facing Alana, and winked. Kicking her foot out, she struck the door with the heel of her boot, then shoved the key into the lock, twisting sharply, and pushed the door open, inspecting Alana’s cabin. Turning back, her eyes narrowed. “One trunk… Is your lady’s maid traveling with you?”
“I have no need for such an extravagance; I am perfectly capable of dressing myself.”
Tilting her head, the woman offered her a peculiar smile. “Meeting your husband?”
“Widowed,” replied Alana, wrestling the key from the lock.
“That is a pity.” She clucked her tongue, pulling the hat from her head. Her hand automatically resumed fanning. “I apologize, my manners are quite lacking this evening. Allow me to introduce myself.” She offered Alana a radiant smile and curtsied. “Mrs. Louisa Parker. My husband, Hugh, and I are traveling to Boston.”
“Mrs. Alana Dubois.” Alana curtsied.
Another peculiar flash slid over Mrs. Parker’s face. “Dubois? You don’t appear to be French…”
“My husband was Mr. Sebastian Dubois.” A small knife slit through her heart as she spoke his name, a painful reminder of the life she lost. “He passed away two years ago.”
“I am sorry.” Mrs. Parker wrapped an arm around Alana, yanking her into a tight embrace. She released Alana just as exuberantly, clapping her hands together with shining eyes, smashing the beleaguered hat in her excitement. “Then you must dine with us.”
“I cannot impose…”
“Of course, you can.” Waving her hand airily, Mrs. Parker dismissed her concerns. “You are traveling alone, Mrs. Dubois. The least we can do is offer you some companionship.” She cupped her hand around her mouth, whispering loudly. “Besides, Hugh will be occupied most of the journey with business, and I’d much rather prefer to sit on deck and gossip with you than spend my days in the cabin, staring at my embroidery.”
Alana laughed. “I must admit, that is a task in which I am a miserable failure.”
“Surely, you must have some talent.” Mrs. Parker grinned, thumbing to herself. “All ladies with red hair are exceptional. At what do you excel?”
“Shooting.”
“That sounds delightful.” The door behind Mrs. Parker opened, and a man with graying black hair poked his head into the corridor, a smile tugging at his lips.
“My dear, you really must let the other passengers get situated prior to departure.” He glanced up at Alana, his deep brown eyes sliding over her, inspecting. “I apologize, Miss…”
“Mrs. Dubois.” Alana curtsied.
“Ah, Mrs. Dubois.” He bowed, hooking his hand under Mrs. Parker’s elbow. “I hope my wife has not been bothering you this evening.”
“Not at all, Mr. Parker. I find your wife to be a refreshing conversationalist.”
Mrs. Parker beamed. “I invited Mrs. Dubois to dine with us this evening.”
“I hardly think her husband would approve of her dining at a different table than he.”
“He’s dead,” hissed Mrs. Parker loudly, leaning toward her husband.
“Pardon?”
“Dead,” repeated Alana. Another stab through her chest. “My husband passed away.”
“I am sorry, Mrs. Dubois. You are welcome to join us this evening, and every other, until our company bores you or you follow us to Boston.” He winked, lifting his wife’s hand and dropping a light kiss on her wrist. She glowed. “My dear wife has an aptitude for adopting stray people. I daresay, she brings home a stranger at least once per week.” Bells tolled throughout the ship, and Mr. Parker’s eyes flicked along the corridor. “We will be departing soon. Would you care to watch with us? We can eat directly afterward.”
“Hugh.” Mrs. Parker tugged at her husband’s sleeve. “We must dress first.”
Mr. Parker’s gaze slid over his wife, understanding flashed in his eyes. “Of course.” Turning to Alana, he bowed again. “I propose we meet in this very hallway in one hour. Will that be sufficient for you to change your attire?”
“More than adequate,” replied Alana with a curtsey. “Thank you for including me.”
“Nonsense, my wife wouldn’t permit any other option.” Grinning, he pulled her into their room, closing the door.
Alana stepped into her cabin, her eyes searching the small room—which consisted mostly of her bed—for her trunk. She discovered it hiding at the foot of the bed. Kneeling, she removed the key from around her neck, sliding it into the lock, and unlatched the trunk. Sorting through a handful of dresses, her eyes skirted over Patrick’s bag of garments. Life would be so much easier if she could dress as a man, all those extra layers of restrictive clothing removed. It was freeing but not at all proper, and only a proper lady would catch a husband. One hand reluctantly brushed over the bag. Aidan needed a wife… as did Patrick. How hard could it be to find one suitable man in America? Selecting the top dress, she rose, shaking out the material.
The ship lurched, and she stumbled, losing her balance and crashing into the wall as the ship pulled away from the dock. Dropping her dress on the bed, she staggered across the cabin, braced herself against the wall, and peered out a small window, watching the lights dotting the docks fade into the night. Three weeks aboard this ship. Like the Parkers, she was disembarking in Boston; Mrs. Parker would be delighted when she heard the news. A small smile flitted across Alana’s face. Mrs. Parker seemed a charming woman. Secretly, she was pleased to have met a companion so quickly. Although she had portrayed a brave façade for Aidan, in truth, she was terrified.
Spinning around, Alana stumbled across the cabin, collapsing on her bed. She crawled to her knees, balancing on the bed as she removed her bodice and skirt. Wrestling with her corset, she cursed, finally yanking it over her head with a huff. Blowing out an exasperated breath, she combed her fingers through the pieces of hair loosened during her fight with the corset, repining them.
A light tapping came at the door. Rising, Alana stumbled toward the door, grabbing onto the wall to steady herself. She called through the door. “May I help you?”
“I have come to offer my services.” Mrs. Parker’s boisterous voice bounded under the door. “It was quite an adventure to dress while the ship was rocking, and I suspect you may be having a bit of trouble on your own.”
With a grin, Alana, opened the door, peering around the edge. Her eyes darted up and down the corridor. “Mrs. Parker, your intuition is astonishing.”
Following Alana into the cabin, Mrs. Parker closed the door, locking it behind her. “Hugh will meet us on deck. He’s decided to stop in the salon for a bit and chat with some potential investors.”
“Investors?” Alana passed the dress to Mrs. Parker, who instructed Alana to turn around with a small circular gesture.
Pulling the corset over Alana’s head, Mrs. Parker fit it a
round her waist. “Yes, Hugh is quite an astute businessman. His latest venture paid for our trip to England.” She leaned in. “It was a birthday present. Deep breath.”
“Happy birthday,” replied Alana as Mrs. Parker yanked the corset strings, tying them deftly.
“Thank you.” She held up the dress, gently tugging it down Alana’s body, so as not to ruin her hair. “Hugh loves traveling. It gives him the opportunity to meet people, who never would have granted him an audience.” She tapped the side of her head. “We have that in common.”
Fastening Alana’s dress, Mrs. Parker hummed to herself. “Do you live in Boston?” asked Alana.
“We have recently relocated to Boston. Hugh has some interests out there.” Mrs. Parker smiled, but the light did not reach her eyes. “I am looking forward to a new adventure. Although I won’t know anyone there, I’m certain I will meet new friends. I’ve heard American society is much more welcoming.”
Alana reached out, placing her hand on Mrs. Parker’s arm and squeezing. “You will know someone; I am moving to Boston as well.”
“You are?” Mrs. Parker squealed with delight, clapping her hand over Alana’s. “We shall have a grand time, balls, and parties, and luncheons…”
Groaning inwardly, Alana forced a smile. “Will you not want to spend a little time with your family?”
“My family?” Blinking her eyes, confusion flashed across her face.
“Surely, your husband has family in Boston.”
Mrs. Parker licked her lips. “Hugh has no family; he is the sole surviving heir.”
“Children? Does he not want children?”
Stepping away, Mrs. Parker stared out the small window, her haunted face reflected in the glass. “I cannot have children.”
“I am sorry.” Alana stepped forward, but Mrs. Parker held up her hand.
“Do not feel pity for me, Mrs. Dubois, I have accepted my lot.” She paused, tilting her head. “If I may be bold, why do you not have children? You were married for two years.”
Alana glanced down, digging her toes into the floor. “I lost one.” She hiccupped. She hadn’t told Aidan, or her father, only Sebastian knew. They buried the baby, just to two of them, wracked with grief. Sebastian fell ill shortly after.
“Well, now that we have both revealed our deepest secrets, perhaps it is time for dinner?” Mrs. Parker curtsied, crossing the room. “I am famished.”
A half-smile crossed Alana’s face. Kneeling beside the trunk, she flipped the lid shut, latching it. Her eyes flicked up. “You remind me of someone.”
“Who?” Pausing at the door, Mrs. Parker turned, her face thoughtful.
“An old friend,” replied Alana, rising and brushing non-existent dirt from her bodice. Thomas Reid was much more than an “old friend” as she had described him, but one secret was painful enough this evening, and she had no intention of discussing him or any other man during this journey. “He’s always hungry.”
“I believe he and I would be well-suited.” With a grin, Mrs. Parker opened the door, holding her arm out to Alana. Looping her arm through the older woman’s, Alana followed her into the hallway, closing the door.
Older was also an incorrect description as Mrs. Parker could not be more than a year or two older than Alana. Mr. Parker must be her senior by ten years. Alana chewed her lip as they walked, Mrs. Parker prattling on about Boston society. It had to be an arranged marriage. She peeked sideways at Mrs. Parker. An attractive woman such as her would certainly have no trouble finding a suitor. Mr. Parker’s wealth must have been the deciding factor for her family.
“Where does your family reside?” asked Alana, the question interrupting Mrs. Parker’s description of the last meal she ate before they set sail.
“Outside of Wiltshire,” replied Mrs. Parker. “It’s a lovely little—”
“I know the area,” interrupted Alana.
“You do?” Mrs. Parker raised her eyebrows in surprise.
“Yes, my father lives to the south of town.”
“What is your father’s name?”
“Aengus Flannery.”
Mrs. Parker’s jaw dropped. “I know your family. My father is Joshua Varner.”
“Are you related to Miss Sarah Varner?” Alana stopped walking, staring at Mrs. Parker.
“Do you know my sister?”
“Only by name.” They resumed strolling, their arms linked together. “Sarah’s companions and mine do not share similar interests.”
Mrs. Parker pursed her lips, staring ahead as they navigated the narrow corridor. After a minute of silence, she spoke. “I will not speak ill of anyone; however, I do not approve of Sarah’s companions either. I have not spent much time in Wiltshire, and it is not my place to direct Sarah, it is my mother’s.” Sighing, Mrs. Parker glanced at Alana. “I have been married to Hugh for nearly ten years. While I do not regret one moment of that life, I wish I could have spent more time with my family, given my sisters some direction. Sarah has become the silliest of them all, emulating that vile Miss Shirely.”
Alana snickered. Even Mrs. Parker knew of Miss Shirely’s reputation. “How many sisters do you have?”
“Three. I am the oldest. The next two, Elizabeth and Frances, are also married. However, Mother seems reluctant to find Sarah a husband and has been denying suitors, according to Frances.” Mrs. Parker leaned closer, dropping her voice to a scandalous whisper. “Her husband’s brother expressed his desire to court Sarah, and his offer was refused.”
“My dear!” Mr. Parker appeared in front of them, a jovial smile lit his face. “I was coming to search for you. I thought you may have become lost.” His eyes skipped over Alana, twinkling merrily. “I do hope you were delayed due to conversation.”
“We were,” replied Mrs. Parker, matching his grin and accepting his offered elbow. “Mrs. Dubois is from Wiltshire!”
The smile froze on his face. “That is intriguing…”
“And she is moving to Boston!”
His eyes flicked to Alana. “I hope my dear wife has not convinced you to alter your plans.”
“Not at all.” Alana grinned, winking at Mrs. Parker. “It is a delightful coincidence.”
“I am pleased the two of you will have so much to discuss in my absence.” He patted his wife’s hand. A man crashed into him from behind, knocking him into Mrs. Parker. She stumbled. Grabbing her elbow, he steadied her, his face purpling. “Sir!”
The man spun, his skin translucent. Pointing a trembling finger at them, his quivering voice barely reached them. “P-P-Pirates.”
The ship lurched, picking up speed. With a squeak, the man turned and fled, vanishing into the corridor. Mrs. Parker turned her wide eyes to her husband.
“What do we do?”
“Hopefully, we can outrun them.” He squeezed her arm. “This is a fast ship.”
“What if the pirates’ ship is faster?” Mrs. Parker’s eyes widened, her hands locked around his wrists. “Hugh, they will kill...”
His hands clamped onto her shoulders, shaking her slightly. “Louisa. Go back to the cabin; you and Mrs. Dubois are to hide together. Barricade yourself in the room and stay there until I come for you. Do you understand?”
“Where are you going?”
“To see if I can be of any assistance.”
“What if something happens to you?” Her lip trembled.
Hugh embraced her, whispering in her ear. “Then, you fight.” Placing a rough kiss to her mouth, he released her, turning and running toward the deck.
“Which room would you prefer?” asked Alana as they ran down the corridor, the deafening echo of cannon fire exploding behind them. Mrs. Parker glanced back, the color draining from her face.
“Yours,” she whispered.
Nodding, Alana extracted the key to her cabin. Spinning quickly, she kicked the door, then turned again, thrusting the key into the lock in one fluid movement. Wrenching the key, Alana slammed her shoulder into the door, pushing it open.
; “If we weren’t under attack right now, I would be extremely proud of you, Mrs. Dubois,” said Mrs. Parker as she followed her into the room.
Shouts echoed overhead, and another cannon blast reverberated through the ship. Alana dashed to her window, staring out. She gasped. Besides their ship, another one sailed, matching their speed. Atop the mast, flew the terrifying colors of a pirate ship.
Mrs. Parker joined her at the window, squishing her face beside Alana. She swore, turning her pale face to Alana. “We need to do more than hide.”
“Why?” Alana’s stomach flipped.
“That’s the flag of Captain Cedric Shaw.”
Alana swallowed. Captain Cedric Shaw, one of the few pirates still patrolling the waters of the English Channel. The Navy had failed to capture him on numerous accounts. His cruel reputation was often highlighted in the newspapers, descriptions of his attacks bringing terror to even the bravest man.
“I can’t swim,” she admitted. Captain Shaw never took women from the ships he attacked. They were all given the same choice—swim or burn. The men, however, were given a different choice.
Mrs. Parker grabbed Alana’s shoulders. “Why can’t you swim?”
“I never learned.” Alana trembled, turning her eyes back to the window. “There is a river that runs past my father’s estate, but I only walked through the shallow parts. I never thought I’d need to learn.”
“You only have one other option.” Mrs. Parker unpinned a section of Alana’s red hair. The heavy tress fell to the center of Alana’s back. “We need to make you look like a man.”
Chapter 3
“Do you have a knife?”
“There’s one in my trunk. My brother, Patrick, gave it to me, along with some of his clothing, I saw it when I looked inside.” Ripping the chain from her neck, Alana dove at the trunk. Unlatching the top, she flung the lid open, grabbing the sack, and dumping the contents out on the bed. Rooting through the clothes, she extracted a penny knife. It glinted in the moonlight streaming through the portside window. “Will this work?”
“That is perfect.” Taking the knife, Mrs. Parker unfolded the blade. Grabbing hold of Alana’s hair, she placed the blade against the bundle, just above her fist. “Are you ready?”