An Enchanted Beginning

by Alyssa Dean Copeland

  Bethany shook her head. “No. If the choice be mine, I fear there is no one whom I would wish to wed.”

  “Come now, what of the wool trader?”

  “No, he is too presumptuous for my taste.”

  “What of Lord Severs?”

  She shook her head, not wanting to reveal her true thoughts of wedding such an old man. “It appears my sister’s efforts are in vain.”

  “Has no one asked for your hand?”

  “Some have indicated they would. Though, I cannot say for certain. If they had, neither Father nor my sister has mentioned it.”

  “It could be that they wish to protect you and have declined the offers.”

  “My father wishes for me to enter a convent and the efforts of my sister’s fiancé have come to naught.”

  “You do not like James, do you?”

  “No. He is pompous, arrogant…” She stopped short. “My apologies, I should not speak in such a manner.”

  He whispered. “Worry not, I shall not tattle on you. James is all those things, but he does what he thinks is right, in a way that does not make sense to others. He has done some things he is not proud of.”

  “Of course.” Johnathan’s words did not change her mind, but to disagree in public would not be lady-like. She held her tongue.

  “Tell me, Bethany, have you decided what is it you want?”

  “You very well know what is in store for me. Nothing has changed.”

  Jonathan shook his head. “No, Bethany. What is it you desire for your life? Surely it is not to simply be a bride—to Christ or to a man.”

  A servant stood in the doorway and announced that the meal was ready to be served. She was thankful to be away from this conversation. There was nothing more to say and she did not want to make a scene.

  Jonathan offered her his arm. “May I escort you?”

  She placed her hand in the crook of his arm and allowed him to escort her to the dining table. Another flutter filled her stomach and she felt light-headed again. Maybe her appetite had returned, after all; she hadn’t eaten much these past few days.

  Jonathan kept a wary eye on Bethany through supper. He noticed that spark in her eye had only returned for a brief moment when he offered to steal her away to the docks. She did her best not to show her distress, but to him, it was evident, and difficult for him to witness. Had he the choice, he would have taken his place next to her, but propriety wouldn’t allow it. She sat down the table near her sister and Severs.

  Jonathan didn’t know if he was shocked or had expected it, but James Bryant was placed as if he possessed no title, at the end of the table, next to Gil, in his own home. It was obvious word hadn’t been received whether the Queen had approved his father’s petition of legitimacy. Jonathan was certain there would be no cause for issue, but wondered if there was another reason for James to keep this news a secret, at least for the moment. He wondered if it had anything to do with his sister, Viola.

  Jonathan glanced down at his plate of salmon and eel smothered in a rich quail sauce. Across from him sat his father, who appeared to be completely taken with Gil Arden’s proposal. His father should know not to trust a man’s slick words, but to verify his intentions by his actions, Jonathan thought.

  He was not about to disagree with his father in public—he preferred to do so in private—and at least no one had outwardly agreed to take Gil up on his proposal, but now a meeting was set for next week, and by then, everyone would have made a decision.

  His attention turned back to Bethany. She appeared to be distracted, moving food about her plate. At least Severs’s attention was on the wool trader and not on the girl next to him. Jonathan had yet to determine who would be a good suitor for Bethany. Every eligible bachelor he thought of had a list of unfavorable qualities. But there was still time.

  After supper, the women departed to the parlor. Jonathan patiently waited until Severs had engaged Arden in conversation, then approached James. “Any news?”

  “I spoke with Nic just prior to everyone’s arrival. His men did, in fact, find an encampment just off the coast in northern Cornwall. The men apparently were not of a mind to stay secret, for they left much of the encampment, including a long piece of red cloth. The men whom Seanna and I came upon during Bethany’s rescue wore the same.”

  “But they captured no men?”

  “I fear not. Nic believes they broke camp. He has men scouting ports and trails into the woods. He does not believe they retraced their steps to Plimmouth.”

  On the one hand, Jonathan was thankful Nic’s men had found a clue, but on the other, he feared for Bethany’s safety. What if the men had entered Bristol? What if they were to try to capture her again? His mind reeled with potential outcomes.

  Across the room, his father called out, “Jonathan, would you care to join us in the parlor?”

  He took a deep breath and a step forward. The closer he was to her, the more likely she would stay safe.

  * * *

  During the evening’s festivities, Bethany’s father was summoned from the room. Severs hadn’t noticed. He continued telling a story about King Henry VII’s rise to the throne and didn’t stutter over a word.

  Bethany half listened. She knew she would be expected to perform, but others offered first. She sat in the back, near the window. Jonathan had taken the seat next to her.

  A short time later, her father returned with his brow creased and lips pursed. Instantly, Bethany knew he had received news. She wondered if Nic had sent word regarding the bandits who attacked Seanna. She couldn’t fathom what would make him upset, unless they had escaped. He sat next to James and whispered in his ear, then showed him a piece of parchment. James read the contents, then glanced over his shoulder at Bethany. She was right. Word had reached his ears.

  Bethany jumped when the room erupted in laughter. She placed her hand upon her heart. It was nothing. She wished she weren’t so sensitive to sudden noises. Warmth touched her hand, then a friendly, gentle squeeze.

  Jonathan smiled and leaned toward her. “All is well, my lady.” Quickly, he removed his hand before anyone would notice. It was a bold move for a man to touch her; had it been anyone else, surely, she would have made a scene.

  At long last, everyone began to depart. She stood at the doorway with her father and sister, letting Severs and Arden kiss her hand before they departed. The desire to wash it immediately crossed her mind. The last man to leave was Jonathan.

  “With your permission, I will call upon you soon.”

  “As you wish.” She tried to keep her stomach from turning when he pressed his lips on her fingers. She watched him walk out the door, then turned to her father.

  “Good-den, Father. I shall see you in the morn.”

  “A word before you retire to your chambers.”

  It was late and she was tired. She took a seat next to her sister.

  “I just received word. There is an opening on a ship leaving for France the morning after next. I have confirmed passage.”

  “But Father,” Seanna jumped up. “You were to leave in just over a week.”

  “With all that has transpired, I believe it best we leave sooner than later. I fear for Bethany’s safety.”

  “I cannot leave; I am to be married.” Seanna cast James a look.

  “I will notify Mistress Thayer and request that you be under her care until you take your nuptials.”

  “But what of Bethany? Surely, one of her many suitors will request her hand.”

  Father raised his hand. “My decision has been made. Bethany and I will leave. Her safety is of the utmost importance.”

  Bethany watched the exchange, as if she were not in their presence. If she were more like her sister, she would sneak out in the middle of the night, most likely with a man she hardly knew, and run off into the wilderness. The thought brought a smile to her lips. But she was not her sister.

  Bethany stood up and straightened out her skirt. “I bid you sleep well.” She found
her way to her chambers.

  * * *

  These past few weeks in Bristol had shown Bethany her fate. Her father was right; it would be best if they departed to France and she enter a convent. Even though Seanna had tried to find her a new suitor, it didn’t appear there was anyone interested, let alone suitable.

  Bethany knelt on the floor in front of a trunk a servant had retrieved earlier. Though her sister’s handmaiden could have packed her belongings, somehow the task soothed her. Delicately, she folded the sleeves of the crimson dress she had worn at the Butler ball. The only person she had met whom she would miss was Jonathan. In the short time they had spent together, she felt he had her best interests at heart. With luck, she would see him one last time. She hoped he would be willing to write her on occasion.

  She looked around; she would miss the small room at James’s cottage. Had they stayed longer, she wondered if Seanna could have convinced James to add decoration. Bethany giggled. It was doubtful Seanna could decorate even this small room without assistance.

  She placed the sleeves on top of her belongings and glanced around the room, wondering what she’d missed. Then she remembered, her sewing supplies were still in the parlor. She stood up and made her way down the stairs.

  The house was quiet. Her father had gone to town and James had taken Seanna to see Rachel. She hoped when it was time, Rachel would have an easy delivery. A single tear fell down her cheek. She realized she would never see Seanna’s babe nor would she have one of her own. She shook the thought from her mind and peeked around the chair near the window to see if the servants had left her basket.

  Sure enough, they had. On top lay her father’s sleeve. She hadn’t finished the cuff. Bethany sighed and sat down. They were to leave in the morn; could she finish it in time? She picked it up and found her place, then began knotting the thread.

  Movement outside the window caught her attention. She looked up and noticed Timothy walking past at a distance. A small smile crept to her lips. It was comforting to see him outside. She knew Timothy would let nothing bad happen to her. She sent up a silent prayer in hopes that the bandits would not discover her location once she and her father departed.

  After she’d placed a few knots, she heard a knock at the door. She peeked out the window and noticed a lone horse standing near the entrance. Before she could look toward the doorway, Gilbert Arden barged into the parlor.

  “Lady Bethany. How good it is to see you this morning.”

  She gave a curt nod. “Master Arden. I fear my father has gone to town. He should be back shortly.”

  He gave an appealing smile. “No matter. I only wished to deliver a few documents for him to review.” He patted a satchel that hung to his hip. “May I leave them with you?”

  “Of course. I will see he receives them when he arrives.”

  Gil opened the satchel and pulled out a handful of papers. A few of the pages fell to the floor. He bent over, retrieved them, and set them on the small table. He tipped his head again.

  “Good day to you, Lady Bethany. I will return later to discuss the papers with him.” He turned and left the room.

  Bethany let out a deep sigh, thankful he hadn’t arrived to seek out her company. She stepped over to the small table and glanced at the page on top. It appeared to be an agreement for the wool purchase they had been discussing these past few weeks. She stepped back and noticed a folded page had slipped under the chair. She bent down to retrieve it. Curiosity got the best of her. She opened it and scanned the contents. A breath caught in her throat. She read it again.

  All is well. No one is the wiser. I shall return anon with a small fortune or with a dowry.

  Bethany jumped at the sound of the front door slamming shut. She heard footsteps and quickly folded the note.

  “Lady Bethany!” Gil tore the note from her hand. “Did you read it? Did you read it!”

  “I… I did not. I simply retrieved it from the floor.”

  The creases on his face softened into a smile. He reached up and brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. “I fear my worry got the best of me. Tell your father I shall return.”

  He turned and left the room. The front door closed, this time gently.

  A knot formed in her stomach. Something was amiss. If the letter were a simple correspondence, he would not have had such an adverse reaction. She rubbed her hands together, not knowing what to do. With a dowry. Her worry turned to anger. If he thought he were to get rich by marrying her, he was mistaken.

  She thought to tell her sister or her father, but neither was home and she had no idea when they would return. Her next thought was of Jonathan. He would know what to do. She stepped toward the table and scribed a message, then blew on the ink.

  “Ruth. Ruth!”

  Her sister’s handmaiden rushed into the room and gave a quick curtsy. “Yes, my lady?”

  She held out the letter. “I wish you to find me a courier to take this letter to Jonathan Butler.”

  Ruth curtsied again. “Of course, my lady. I will see to it right away.”

  Bethany rubbed her arms and looked around the room. She couldn’t fathom Gil’s intent. She replayed the moment in her mind. His reaction was most improper. Deep down, she knew he had ill intent.

  It would be quite some time before Jonathan would arrive. At least she would have her father’s cuff as a distraction. She sat down and pulled it onto her lap and stared at the thread. Her hands shaking, she secured the needle back into the fabric.

  * * *

  Jonathan sat across from his father in the carriage heading toward King Street.

  “This is such a grand opportunity, Jonathan. I could not be prouder. This will surely increase our fortune.”

  Jonathan shrugged. He knew deep down he needed to make a good impression this day. A meeting with the Merchant Venturers was a unique opportunity, one not to scoff at. He had Nic to thank.

  The carriage came to a halt in front of a small pennant stone building.

  “Are you certain you do not wish to join me?”

  His father shook his head. “This is your day. I have a few errands and will return shortly.”

  Jonathan smiled. He was relieved his father did not want to join him, but felt he needed to make the offer. He got out of the carriage in front of a short, stone wall surrounding the building. He took a deep breath, and walked to the entrance.

  Jonathan wiped the palm of his hand on his breeches, then opened the door.

  A young man quickly stood up from behind a small desk. “How may I assist you?”

  He removed his hat. “I have an appointment with Master William Vawer.”

  He looked down at a piece of parchment. “Of course, Lord Butler. If you would have a seat, I will return momentarily.”

  He disappeared down a small hallway. Jonathan sat down on a hard bench and took in the elaborately decorated room. Expensive, long, floral draperies covered the windows, barely touching the highly polished oak floor. White molding accented the high ceiling. On the wall in front of the doorway hung a sculpted coat of arms portraying a shield supporting a ship’s mast with a mermaid on the left, holding an anchor, a winged satyr with a scythe on the right. Goosebumps prickled his skin. He took a deep breath and turned his attention to the several paintings of ships sailing on the blue ocean.

  Jonathan gripped his hat tighter. He wondered what would become of his hat if he had to wait much longer. After a couple of uncomfortable minutes, the young man returned. “If you would follow me, Lord Butler.”

  Master Vawer stood in a spacious office decorated in the same manner as the entryway.

  He bowed then reached out his hand. “Lord Butler. It is good of you to call this day.” He waved his hand to an oak arm chair with a tall back, with intricately carved vines. “If you would, please.”

  Jonathan recognized the elderly man. He’d attended several balls, though Jonathan had never spoken with him, having always tried to disappear as early as possible. Master Vawer ha
d graying hair that reminded him of a mixture of salt and pepper from Mistress Mable’s kitchen. He had bright blue eyes and a big smile, almost fatherly.

  Jonathan sat down and Master Vawer took the seat next to him. “As you well know, we are an elite society. Our members are highly regarded. And, you, Lord Butler, are well endorsed.”

  Jonathan was caught off guard. He wondered who gave them the recommendation. Then he remembered, it had to be Nic.

  Master Vawer continued. “We seek to ensure Bristolians benefit from the trade market rather than outsiders. Our main task is to issue export licenses to merchants who intend to transport goods, and for this service, we will retain a share of those goods.”

  Jonathan nodded.

  “In addition, there is a great need to prevent illicit traders, those who wish to circumvent licensing. Some believe working around our organization may benefit them. It may be in the short term. However, we have put measures in place to insure that unapproved and prohibited goods are not exported. When such goods are discovered, the merchandise is seized on behalf of the crown and a hefty fine is to be paid. On occasion, if unable to pay the fine imposed, these unlawful merchants are sent to debtor’s prison.”

  He’d heard about these unlawful merchants, though he never thought to pay attention to their punishment.

  “By controlling exports, our members gain monopolies in overseas trades and markets. Now we should discuss what you would need to do in order to become a member….”

  * * *

  Bethany paced in the small parlor. Every couple minutes she peeked out the window. On occasion, she’d see Timothy or another one of Nic’s men walking the grounds. No one had returned home. She rolled her hands again and glanced down at her father’s cuff lying on the chair. In her current state, she was unsure if she could complete a proper stitch. She thought to go upstairs and continue packing for her journey, but fear of missing her father or Seanna kept her from doing so.

  “My lady, I have brought your refreshment.”

  Bethany turned. Ruth stood at the doorway holding a tray. She turned back and looked out the window. “Has there been a response?”