They had incredibly smooth sailing the whole two months. Not a storm had arisen, which was strange for this time of year and the wind had been, for the most part, in their favor. Nature was conspiring to get Catherine out of his life as quickly as possible. At the beginning of their voyage Brant might have been glad, but so much had changed in a short time and he wasn’t ready for it to end. Catherine, on the other hand, seemed to think nothing of it. She remained cheerful and happy, helping Matthew with various activities to help him regain his strength while Brant was busy and spending every moment with him that he wasn’t.
Brant tried to hide how he was feeling and enjoy each moment with her. But he knew she could tell something was bothering him. When he would become silent and distant in the middle of a conversation she would hug him tightly and kiss him on the cheek, whisper for him not to worry and to come back to her. She needed him as much as he needed her. She had a way of making Brant forget about passing time and to just enjoy the moment, but the thought of her leaving always returned.
“Brant, you have to stop worrying. You don’t know what the future holds,” she said one day as he fell into one of his silent moments.
“I’m afraid to find out. I’m not ready for things to change. This is all so new.”
She nodded and stroked his face where rough stubble had cropped up in the last couple days. “Just have faith. People do not come together just to be torn apart.”
And Brant desperately hoped she was right. They deserved to be happy together, didn’t they? Catherine was the woman he had always wanted. She was intelligent, brave, strong and beautiful. She was nothing like the women other men of his profession chose to associate with, she was high class, yet humble and kind. He had always hoped to find someone like her but thought it impossible. Yet, here fate had thrown her at him and he had to cherish every remaining second with her. To let her go, when he had her in his grasp was too much to ask of a man who had resigned himself to being alone the rest of his life. He couldn’t let her go. Not now, not in a week, not ever.
But even though she reassured him there was a reason for this, that they wouldn’t be torn apart, he didn’t know how he was going to keep her from leaving.
Chapter Thirteen
As the BlackFox sailed into London’s port, Brant carefully navigated the ship to a dock. He hadn't seen Catherine all day and presumed she was packing and getting ready to make an acceptable appearance back into society. As men tied the ship tightly against the dock and lowered the ramp Catherine finally exited her cabin. She had on a much finer dress than any she had worn since Brant had rescued her. He remembered it though, taken from the clothes he had in the hold, but she hadn't worn it until now. It was a beautiful dark grey, rich with embroidery and a lace collar that went up her neck. She looked elegant, no, regal and Brant felt incredibly uncomfortable in her presence. She had once again adopted the mask and had successfully hidden who she had grown to be in her time on the BlackFox.
Approaching her, Brant reached out for an embrace but she recoiled, holding her head up high.
“Not now, Brant.”
“Why not?”
“It isn't appropriate. Think how it will look.”
Brant frowned but respected her wishes and took a step back. “Is there anything you need out of the cabin?”
She laughed. “I came aboard with nothing. All I have is this,” she held up the package of fabric Brant had bought her in Casablanca. She hadn't made use of it yet. “I'm afraid I'm an awful seamstress. I thought I would save it and have a dressmaker put it to good use.”
“And the clothes I gave you?”
“It is all still good. You can make a profit off of it so I left it all. I just took this dress.”
“Then I'll have James fetch a carriage for you.”
“Thank you. Will you come with me? I'll have my father pay you.”
“Payment really isn't necessary, Catherine.”
“I promised you payment. I don't want to bring our relationship into this. Please, accompany me home and I'll have my father give you your due.”
Brant nodded. “Very well.”
It hurt, how cold Catherine was being. She had reassured him time and again that two people didn’t get brought together only to be ripped apart, and yet here she was distancing herself from him in any and every way possible.
He walked off to find James and, once the instructions were given, he went about the many duties that had to be attended to when in a new port. He paid the dock fee, registered his boat and made arrangements to have his goods looked at by a local merchant. By the time that was all taken care of a carriage was ready and waiting for them.
He offered Catherine his arm and escorted her down the docks and into the carriage, climbing in and sitting across from her. Brant didn’t really know what to say so he remained quiet for the drive, which proved to be quite short.
The Marshalls lived in a beautiful, ornate townhouse in a rich area near the port. As the carriage pulled to a stop outside their house, Brant hopped out and helped Catherine down, offering his arm to her. She ignored his offered arm, walking past him and up the stairs without so much as a pause at the front door.
Brant watched her in confusion, picked up the package of fabric she had left sitting on the carriage bench, and paid the driver before following her into the house. He looked around. It was a beautiful house. A black maid, likely a slave, ran down the stairs and stopped in shock. “Miss Catherine!” She turned around and ran back up the stairs shouting out “Lord Marshall! Lady Marshall!” as she went.
“What is it? What is all this hollering for?” Catherine’s father appeared at the top of the stairs looking angry.
She stopped and pointed down the stairs at Catherine. Nothing more had to be said, his anger was obviously forgotten as Lord Marshall’s face melted into an expression of shock and joy and, Brant thought, maybe a little disbelief. He slowly walked down the stairs, clutching the handrail as if to hold himself upright in his excitement.
“Catherine? Is that you?” He reached out his hand and touched her face as if to ingrain in his mind that she was in fact real and not a figment of his imagination. “You’re really here? We heard that your ship was attacked and that there was no sign of you. We thought you were dead.”
Catherine embraced her father. “I’m alive, father. Captain Foxton here rescued me.”
Lord Marshall reached out his hand to shake Brant’s but didn’t let go of Catherine with his other.
A gasp emitted from the top of the stairs and Catherine’s mother ran down, quite unladylike, crying, and embraced her daughter. “You’re alive! You’re alive!” she sobbed.
Lord Marshall let his daughter go so that his wife could have her moment and walked over to Brant. “We are forever in your debt, Captain Foxton. If there is anything we can do for you—”
“No, nothing. I was just doing my duty.”
“Father, I promised him that we would pay him for my passage.”
“It’s really quite alright. I didn’t do it for the money, sir.”
“Nonsense, come with me. You must be paid if that is what you were promised.”
Lord Marshall led Brant down a hall and into his study where he opened up a safe and counted out some money. “Does ninety pounds sound fair?”
Brant nodded. “Yes sir. Thank you.”
“I really don’t know how we can ever repay you. We were told she was gone and had given up hope. You have returned what is most precious to us.”
Brant nodded, touched by the obvious love Lord and Lady Marshall had for their daughter, and for a moment even a little jealous he had never had that for himself. “Please, don’t trouble yourself. It was a pleasure to aid a lady such as your daughter and it was nothing beyond my duty as the King’s servant.”
“And how long will you be in London?”
“Not long. I hope to set sail within the week if we hope to make it back to Jamaica before the summer storms become bad.”
“I would be honoured,” replied Brant, eager for any excuse to be near Catherine.
* * *
Brant didn’t just spend dinner with the Marshalls. He ended up spending the rest of the afternoon with them. He got to meet her younger brother, John (or Johnny as he preferred to be known), who was between boarding schools at the time. He was the same age as James but a boatload of mischief and trouble; he reminded Brant a lot of himself when he had been that age.
Catherine ignored Brant for the most part. He brushed it off as her not wanting anyone to know about their affair in the last few weeks at sea but it troubled him slightly. Had it been too much to hope that things wouldn’t change between them? She loved him, he was sure, as much as he loved her, but it needed to be said. He would profess his love before he left and leave it to her to make a decision. She wouldn’t leave him, not after everything they had shared and after everything she had said.
So, he was charming with her mother and talked business and politics with her father. No one asked what the purpose of his ship was and Brant didn’t offer an explanation. They all just assumed he was a merchant of some sort and they left it at that.
As dinner approached Catherine excused herself to get cleaned up, requesting time to take a much needed hot bath after months at sea. Brant and Lord Marshall made their way into the study where they were served whisky and had a drink before dinner was served. An hour later they made their way to the dining room where they joined the women and Johnny.
They were served an incredible meal of turkey, potatoes, fresh vegetables, wine, and fruit… everything anyone could want in a meal. Brant ate until he was full and then he ate some more. It was all just so good he couldn’t bear to let any of it go to waste. Catherine too ate with a vigour that Brant had never seen in her.
Brant felt at home with Catherine’s family. They were kind and gracious to him and never seemed to look down on him or treat him with contempt. After dinner Lord Marshall excused himself to his study while Johnny went off on his own. Brant was left alone with Catherine and her mother so he took that as his cue to leave, though he was hesitant to go without having a word in private with Catherine.
“I’m afraid I must take my leave. It is late and I still have much to attend to.”
Lady Marshall once again expressed her thanks and asked Catherine to see him to the door.
“Of course, mother.”
Brant stopped in the front entrance and faced Catherine. “I can’t leave without speaking with you. Is there somewhere we can talk… alone?”
Catherine frowned. “Outside.” She stepped out to the front steps with Brant. “What is it, Brant?”
“I want to be with you, Catherine,” he spoke in earnest. “These last few weeks with you have been incredible and I need you in my life. I have a plantation in Jamaica that you could live comfortably on. I’m not a poor man, Catherine.”
She shook her head slowly and her eyes welled up with tears. “I can’t, Brant.”
“What do you mean you can’t?”
“I can’t be with you. These last few weeks have been wonderful, yes but they have also been a dream. We can’t live like that. You and I are from two different worlds.”
“We are not so different. I come from the same world.”
“But you chose to leave it. I told you that I could never leave this life, I could never make the same decision you did. Don’t ask this of me, Brant.”
His brow furrowed and anger coursed through him. What had been all the talk of two people being brought together meaning something? “You made me believe you loved me, you made me fall in love with you. What did you expect, Catherine? That I would just sail away out of your life forever? It doesn’t work that way.”
“I thought for a moment that I could believe in a fairy tale, Brant,” she cried. “But you and I both know fairy tales aren’t real and reality has to set in sooner or later. Today is reality.”
“Anything can happen if you want it bad enough. Marry me, Catherine. Let me give you a life with me.”
“No.”
“You will still have all the money and luxury that you enjoy now. Why is this such a terrible thing?”
“Because I can’t love a man who will always put the ocean, his ship, before me.”
“I love you, Catherine.”
“You love the sea more. I’ll marry you, Brant if you give up sailing. Sell the BlackFox and give it all up to become a plantation owner. If you do that then I’ll marry you.”
Brant looked at her. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He would give her the world, but she’d just asked of him the one thing he couldn’t give up. “I can’t do that.”
“Then I can’t marry you. I refuse to be second in your life.”
“You’d rather marry someone who doesn’t love you?”
“I’ll marry someone who could give me a real marriage, not someone who would rather be wed to the sea than me. Goodbye, Brant.”
Catherine turned on her heel and opened the door, pausing for just a moment to let him see the tears streaming down her face in the soft lantern light, then slammed the door in his face.
He shivered and walked down the steps into the street. He hadn’t bothered to fetch a carriage, there were plenty sitting along the side of the road waiting to get a fare, but Brant chose to walk, the cool evening wind helping him forget the pain that Catherine had just inflicted on him. He hadn’t expected her to say no. He had thought that perhaps she would take time to think about it, but he had never imagined she would flat out say no and tell him to get out of her life. He thought he had meant more than that to her. He had seen love in her eyes and she had turned her back on it as easily as choosing one dress over another. Society had once again turned its back on Brant and he wasn’t sure if it was laughing at him for being such a fool or if it pitied him for thinking he stood a chance with a woman like Catherine.
Walking back on the BlackFox Brant locked himself in his cabin, not bothering to respond to any of the crew that said hello as he walked past. Looking around his cabin he could see remnants of her all around. The book she had been reading was left on his desk. The clothes she had been wearing for the last two months were folded neatly in a corner and a hand written letter sat on the bed. He picked it up and turned it over in his hand. It likely said everything she had said to him on the steps but he sat down to read it anyway.
“Dearest Brant,
I hope you understand that I never would want to hurt you but we cannot be. I have loved these past few months we have spent together and never has a man treated me with such respect, but our journey has reached its end and I must leave you.
I made a mistake, falling in love with you and I am deeply sorry for making you return that love. I assure you that this is no easy decision for me but I must continue my life here in London as Catherine Marshall, daughter of Lord and Lady Marshall and a member of the royal court. If I were to stay with you I would need you to give up your life for me. I could not marry a man that would be away from me ten months of the year and I love you too much to ask you to give up your first love; the ocean. I beg of you to find it in your heart to forgive me. Perhaps our lives will cross paths again.
Always yours,
Catherine Marshall.”
Brant read the letter over and over in an attempt to understand, to allow it to sink in that she had left him and she was not coming back. He had heard it from her own mouth and now he had it in writing yet he couldn’t quite believe that she would be so willing to give up.
* * *
Brant buried himself in work for the next couple of days. He sold his cargo and bought more supplies and now it was time to cast off and head home for the summer. Matthew approached him as he was charting a course with Casper.
“Sir, I would like to stay aboard if that’s okay.”
Brant looked up at the fifteen year old boy and smiled. �
��Of course. You will work under Casper.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Welcome to the crew, Matthew.”
Brant climbed up to the crow’s nest to bid London goodbye as they sailed away. He could imagine that Catherine was standing somewhere along the docks waving her last goodbyes to him but he doubted it. She had already said her goodbyes and now it was his turn to say his.
Watching London disappear slowly he turned to face the open ocean. It was a beautiful thing to see nothing but waves and blue sky ahead and not really knowing what lay beyond the distant horizon. The ocean was a mystery to Brant but it captured his imagination and held him enthralled for eight years of his life.
Brant pulled Catherine’s letter out of his pocket and read it over one last time then let it go, flying in the wind until it landed somewhere among the white tipped waves.
When London was out of sight Brant climbed down and went to join the crew for dinner. But the usual joy was missing from his demeanour and he couldn’t find it in him to joke. Instead he ate in silence and watched as men all around him laughed. They were happy with their life and for the first time in seven years Brant was not. He watched James and Matthew talk together like brothers and he smiled slightly but still could find very little joy in the sight of his brother finding a friend.
Brant left dinner, his food only half eaten, and made his way into the hold where he pulled out a dusty bottle of rum. Walking on deck he uncorked it and took a long drink. The rum burned down his throat and sat warmly in his core. It helped him forget the sight, sound, smell and even taste of her, of his love. Taking another long swig he sat down against the rail and cried. He cried for his mother, his lost childhood, his father, his brother, for Catherine and for himself. He cried for the lives that he had taken and he cried for the families that would miss them. He cried because there was nothing left to do but to let years of pent up sorrow free. He heard footsteps and he quickly wiped the tears away and looked up to see who would dare disturb his private moment of despair. Karl sat down beside him and reached out his hand for the bottle.
Owned by the Ocean Page 15