by Jocelyn Kirk
“Don’t be alarmed,” exhorted the cheerful mate. “The Lady Jane will froth about a bit, for the sea’s as rough as a sailor’s beard today. You ladies might be a bit under the weather, but ’twon’t be for long. If this wind holds, we’ll be in New Haven in three days.”
When the mate departed, Elena and Willa looked up in surprise, for in the open doorway stood a young woman in a dark dress obviously waiting to speak with them. Elena immediately staggered forward.
“You must be Miss Garrick.”
“Miss Bellwood?”
The young ladies shook hands. Miss Megan Garrick was a naturally pretty girl, but she did little to capitalize on her looks. She was plainly dressed, and her hair was pulled back into a knot that reminded Elena of newspaper drawings she had seen of women at political rallies screaming about strange things like voting in elections. Mrs. Bellwood had referred to them as harpies who did not understand their place in the world.
But Miss Garrick did not seem a harpy. She was soft-spoken with a warm smile. But though gentle and quiet, she did not give the impression of being weak.
Elena invited Miss Garrick into the tiny cabin. When she introduced Willa by means of a quick “My maid, Willa,” Miss Garrick walked up to Willa and grasped her hand, greeting her as warmly as she had greeted Elena.
One suspects she has been raised in poor society. But she is quiet and gentle and should be a pleasant traveling companion.
“I came to inquire about your well-being,” said Megan. “You, Miss McCrea, have a badly sprained ankle, so my brother says, and you, Miss Bellwood, had to climb that dreadful rope ladder in this frightful wind.”
Both girls thanked her and assured her they were well. Willa’s ankle was already beginning to subside, she insisted, and Elena was able to laugh at her humiliation of being dragged aboard ship in her pantalettes.
“Excellent,” replied the gentle Megan. “Then I will return to my cabin. The voyage will be rough until we reach the open sea, and then it should be a bit smoother.”
Shortly after Megan’s departure, the ship suddenly jerked and rolled to one side. Although Willa assured Elena that they were simply turning about and heading to sea, Elena felt a surge of fear. How different reality was from one’s silly daydreams. She recalled her past desire for travel and adventure. Here she was, leaving New York to visit strange and unknown lands, and she didn’t feel excited or confident or sophisticated or elegant, or any of those things she expected. She only felt sad…sad and frightened.
****
The voyage to New Haven, although unpleasant, was not as terrible as Elena had expected, and in three days’ time she and Willa were safely ashore and settled in the Red Marlin Inn near the piers. The weather had warmed a bit, and Elena, usually accompanied by Megan Garrick, was able to stroll about, visit tea shops, and even make a few small purchases of wool gloves and hats for herself and Willa, whose ankle was not yet healed.
Elena took the opportunity of becoming better acquainted with her new friend. She could be a close questioner when she was interested in her companion, and Miss Garrick did indeed interest her. Elena learned that as she suspected, Megan was a suffragette, but her devotion to the rights of women did not stop with voting. Her explanations were at first rather shocking to Elena, but the more she listened, the more her curious mind began to understand. According to Megan, the role of women in society had been restricted for centuries, and that must change. Not only must women gain suffrage, but also they must be allowed freedom of choice in all areas of their life. They must not be viewed as the property of first their father and then their husband. And women such as Willa, who labored for a bare subsistence, should not be treated as virtual slaves in a household.
“All women are our sisters,” declared Megan, warming to her subject, “and we must help and protect each other. However, I realize that your upbringing as a debutante has in no way prepared you for the understanding and acceptance of the ideals I espouse. I’ve been reared in a different manner and have been exposed to freethinkers and liberals from a young age.”
“You are correct in your assumption,” replied Elena. “My father died when I was a child, and my mother’s focus was always on arranging a brilliant marriage for me. As it turned out, it was not a good plan, for it brought about her financial ruin and, when she died suddenly, mine.”
“Indeed!” Megan exclaimed. “I had no idea!”
“Sadly, it is so. Thanks to the foresight of my mother’s solicitor, a small amount of money was kept aside for my travel expenses in case my mother should die before I was wed.”
“I admit I was curious,” said Megan, “for—forgive my frank comment—you are so lovely it seems incredible that you finished your coming out year without being wed.”
“As it happened,” said Elena, “I expected to receive a proposal of marriage from a most unexceptionable suitor—the Duke of Simsbury—on the very day my mother died.”
“And…what happened? Why did you decide not to accept him?”
“My dear Miss Garrick, I would have accepted him in an instant. But he informed me that he had already engaged himself to a woman of fortune…although he did offer to make me his mistress.”
“Good lord! He is a blackguard! You are extremely fortunate to escape from matrimony with such a man!”
“I’m not sure I agree with you. The alternative is that now I must throw myself upon the mercy of an aunt whom I have never met and live in a place that is alien to everything I have known.”
The four travelers spent three days in New Haven before getting passage on a mail ship up the coast. As they were undergoing the bustle of leaving the inn, a welcome sight appeared—James Scott.
“Mr. Scott!” called Ben. “I was uncertain if you would accept my offer.”
“Heyo, Mr. Garrick, ladies!” called the cheerful seaman. “I talked to my ma, Mr. Garrick, and she said, ‘Don’t be daft, Jimmy. Go to Mystic, and captain the freight boat for the gentleman.’ ”
“What is all this about?” asked Elena. “Are you going with us, Seaman Scott?”
“Aye, miss. Mr. Garrick has two ships that run freight up the coast and out to the islands. One needs a captain! Quite a promotion for a poor sailor like me!”
“I congratulate you, Mr. Scott,” said Megan.
“Thank you, miss.”
“Ben,” continued Megan, “your ships are ketches, are they not?”
“What is a ketch?” asked Elena.
“Why, miss,” enthused James, “’tis the finest boat made. Small, tight, and a match for the cold North Atlantic. A ketch has two masts, and a good sailor can make her do anything he wants.”
As the others smiled at James’s outburst, Willa said, “But Mr. Garrick, I thought you were a farmer.”
“I own a farm,” he replied, “but it’s for my own use and not a commercial venture. The income from my freighting ships allows me to spend my time pursuing my main interest.”
“Which is?” asked Elena.
“Science,” he replied, “particularly astronomy.”
“Astronomy! I’m very surprised, but certainly intrigued.”
“Are you? I’m glad to hear it. Most women run away as soon as they hear the word ‘science.’ ”
Elena was not surprised at his assessment of women, for her own mother had despised science in any of its forms.
“I’m sure such women exist,” she replied, “but I have the misfortune to be very curious, so anything strange or obscure catches my interest immediately. What exactly are you trying to learn about astronomy, Mr. Garrick?”
“For one thing, I’m trying to replicate the findings of the last century’s most brilliant astronomer, David Rittenhouse, regarding the transit of Venus.”
Ben glanced at Elena and perceiving no hint of insincerity in her expression, added, “I want to expand on his findings and also calculate the movements of all the planets as they relate to this hemisphere. I recently procured the latest, most accurate tel
escope, one produced in the Netherlands.”
“That is fascinating indeed.”
Megan pulled her away. “You are in danger, Miss Bellwood. If you show too much interest, he will drag you to his farm and force you to sit all night staring at the sky with a notepad on your lap.”
Ben laughed. “I’m not such a fool, Megan. But Miss Bellwood might enjoy looking through the telescope for a few minutes some evening.”
“Yes, I would like that very much.”
With such friends to cheer her, Elena found that some of her anxiety about her new life was easing, and the voyage to Mystic passed quickly. She saw little of the Mystic River or the village that lined its banks when they sailed into port, for a thick snow was falling and the dark sky threatened a serious blizzard. Ben and James left the women on board until they had secured two cabriolets. The horses stamped and fretted as the travelers and their belongings were loaded, and the coachmen looked uneasily at the thickening snow on the road.
“Take us only to the Book & Candle,” Ben instructed, “and then you’d best get yourselves and your horses under shelter.”
“Aye, sir, that we will.” The carriages set off, slipping every few feet, with the horses plodding to keep their balance. They passed across the river on a wooden bridge and traveled slowly along the main road of the town. Elena could see nothing through the snow, and when they stopped, she had no leisure for looking about, for she and James had to assist Willa out of the cab and into the doorway of the shop, while Megan helped Ben with the luggage.
She had been surprised to find the Garricks were planning to accompany her into the shop and even more surprised when Ben had explained that they would ask Miss Murdoch to accommodate all of them for the night, as it was impossible to travel to the farm. James offered to walk to the small inn they had passed on the other side of the river, but Ben assured him it would not be necessary.
They all crowded into the dark interior of the shop. One candle only illuminated the space, and the winter darkness was descending rapidly. Elena could barely see where she was, and she and Megan, who had never been in the shop either, bumped into each other as they made their way from the door into the interior.
Footsteps sounded, and a woman emerged from the rear of the shop.
“Good heavens!” she cried, “Is it you, Ben? I did not expect you in this storm!”
In the dim light, Elena saw a very pretty woman hurrying toward them. She looked to be in her late thirties with blonde hair and a fair complexion. With a start, Elena realized that she and her aunt looked considerably alike.
Ben stepped forward. “Rosalie, you are a treat for sore eyes. And behold, I bring you your niece, who I assure you has proven her mettle on this journey!”
“What! Elena is with you?” The woman dropped her lantern onto a table and approached.
Elena had just begun to say, “My dear aunt, I am very grateful—” when she was clasped in the woman’s arms.
“Elena, Elena,” whispered Rosalie, and her niece realized that she was crying.
Elena attempted to extricate herself without being discourteous. She took her aunt’s hand and told her how very happy she was to make her acquaintance. Rosalie stared at her and then began to weep in earnest.
“Come, come, Rosalie,” said Ben, taking hold of her arm. “This won’t do.”
“I am so very sorry,” replied Rosalie. “The shock of seeing her after all these years…I…”
Ben handed her his handkerchief. She wiped her eyes and attempted a smile. “I received Mr. Coakley’s letter about my sister’s sudden death only a week ago. I was shocked and grieved by the news but delighted to find that dear Elena would be coming to me.”
Ben introduced Megan, Willa, and James Scott and mentioned their need for shelter.
“Of course,” answered Rosalie. “I have room enough for twenty in this rambling old house.”
They all followed Rosalie upstairs to her parlor, with James and Ben assisting Willa. Elena was pleased when she looked around the room. It was large and commodious, with simple, comfortable furnishings. A feather-stuffed sofa dominated one side of the room, and on this Willa gingerly settled with her injured leg raised onto a hassock. Several wing chairs accommodated the others. A pianoforte claimed one corner, with sheet music lying on its bench. In another corner was a desk with neat piles of paper, quills, and jars of ink. A few simple country scenes, plainly framed, adorned the walls. A warmly hued carpet covered the center of the wooden floor, with the colors reflected in cushions about the room.
How different this room was from her mother’s parlor in New York. But she liked it. It spoke of comfort and…contentment.
Rosalie announced she would put water on the stove for tea. “While you are waiting for tea,” she said, “you must warm yourselves with sherry. Ben, you know where my wines are located. Will you pour?”
“Most assuredly,” he replied, “but, Rosalie, where is Bramble?”
“He’s in my bedchamber. I closed him in there when I went downstairs, for I was afraid he might frighten whoever it was that had entered the shop.”
Elena turned to Ben. “Who or what is Bramble?”
Ben smiled. “I’ll tell you if you promise not to swoon.”
Elena reached out and tapped his arm. “I am hardly going to swoon because my aunt keeps a pet.”
“Good,” he said, grinning, “because Bramble is a wolf.”
“A wolf!” cried all the others.
Rosalie returned from the kitchen. “I assure you, he is as gentle a creature as ever was seen. You need not fear him.”
“Oh dear,” whispered Elena, “a wolf…”
Megan turned to Elena. “New York debutantes and wolves—of the animal kind,” she added with a smile, “do not often meet.”
“With the human kind,” Ben could not help saying, “no doubt many meetings occur.”
“I’ll bring Bramble out to meet all of you,” Rosalie said, “if it won’t distress you too much, my dear.”
“No, I’ll be fine,” said Elena. “I think…”
“Miss Bellwood,” said Ben. “When you meet Bramble, you’ll realize he’s a pussycat in wolf’s clothing.”
“Simply sit quietly and allow him to acquaint himself with you. He is not the least bit dangerous, I assure you,” said Rosalie as she left the room.
She returned in a few moments with a dark shadow following her.
Elena was shaking as the animal approached. He appeared huge, and his deep yellow eyes seemed to see into her soul. She shivered, but some instinct she did not know she possessed made her hold out her hand to him. He stretched his neck toward the offered hand and sniffed.
“May I touch him?” she whispered, her voice quaking.
“Yes, certainly.”
Elena tentatively touched the great beast’s head, and Willa stroked his back. He waved his tail and strolled onward to meet James and Megan. Elena could see Megan’s hand quiver as she touched him. James sat very still and waited for the wolf to finish examining him.
When Bramble had acquainted himself with the new humans, he turned to Ben, demanding the attention of the person he loved second to Rosalie. Ben scratched his neck and talked to him, and to Elena’s shock, the creature lay at Ben’s feet and flipped himself over.
“What is he doing?” she whispered.
“He wants his belly scratched,” Ben replied. “Have you never been around dogs, Miss Bellwood? Dogs and wolves are quite alike.”
“Are they indeed? I had no idea.”
Rosalie left the room and returned with hot, fragrant tea and a platter heaped with cookies and sandwiches. To her surprise, Elena realized she was hungry. Well, she might as well eat what she liked, for she didn’t have a ball or party to attend requiring an iron corset and fitted gown. She helped her aunt pass the tea and then filled her own plate. Bramble settled at Rosalie’s feet and closed his eyes.
Rosalie raised her teacup. “To new friends,” she said with a s
mile. Everyone joined her in a toast.
Willa turned to Rosalie. “When I was little, my pa used to toast the family after we said grace. He’d say, ‘May God bless us all for life and especially my dear good wife.’ ”
“Lovely,” said Rosalie. “Don’t you all agree?”
The others agreed. Elena nodded, surprised that Willa, who never said anything personal to her, would have the courage to tell such a thing to her aunt.
After all had eaten, Rosalie assigned bedchambers. The men would be downstairs in a small room behind the shop. Elena and Megan would share a bedchamber near Rosalie’s room, and Willa would have a small room off the kitchen.
“The bed in this room is much lower than the others, Miss McCrea,” said her kind hostess. “You will find it easier to manage. And if you need assistance, there’s a call bell in the room.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“We will have a simple supper at eight,” Rosalie announced as they all dispersed.
“Aunt Rosalie,” questioned Elena, “do you have no staff to assist you?”
“I was going to ask the same,” said Megan. “Elena and I are perfectly able to help with cooking chores. Or I am, for I’m not in the least fatigued from the journey.”
“How kind!” said Rosalie. “But do rest and refresh yourselves for a time before we begin. We will have only a simple meal, for this storm has made it impossible to purchase foodstuffs. But I have fish and potatoes, and of course bread and butter. I put a roasting hen in the oven before you arrived.”
“Your kindness in welcoming us into your home so unexpectedly is greatly appreciated,” said Megan, “but it’s not surprising. My brother’s letters have been full of your praises for years.”
“Ben is one of the best men I’ve ever known,” replied Rosalie. “I can compare him to only one other.”
“Who?” asked Elena.
Rosalie turned away and busied herself with pulling potatoes from a bin. “Someone I knew…a long time ago.”