by Jody Hedlund
Pioneer’s expression was taut, and he continued to roll the brim of his hat in his hands. “I promise I’ll be the best husband you could ever dream of having.”
Sophia again studied his face. Then she nodded. “Alright.”
In an instant, the wariness evaporated from Pioneer’s face, and hope moved in to replace it. “You’ll marry me?”
“Aye, I’ll marry you.”
A roaring cheer rose from the men. When Pioneer held out his hand, Sophia gave him a tentative smile and placed her hand into his. With a wide grin and whoop of his own, Pioneer swept Sophia off her feet, climbed back over the rope, and strode away with her in his arms as the crowd parted and men slapped him on the back.
“This is madness,” Joseph said. Mercy felt the brush of his fingers at the small of her back, as though he wanted to direct her away from the crowd. But they were both trapped here in the middle of hundreds of men. Even as the line of women ahead began moving again, there was no place for any of them to go except forward.
“Keep your face hidden, Mercy,” Joseph said with quiet urgency from behind. “And don’t make eye contact with anyone.”
Mercy wished for Joseph’s cloak again so she could throw it over her head and hide just as he’d instructed. But she’d already given it back to him after he’d insisted she keep it.
The men pressed in closer, emboldened after Pioneer’s daring proposal. Finally, some of the women, frightened by the forthrightness, began to run. Mercy lengthened her stride, sure that at any moment someone would jump into her path and propose marriage. She couldn’t let that happen.
When the blue-uniformed constables finally led them inside a large building still under construction, the women collapsed against one another in relief.
Mercy turned to thank Joseph and realized he was gone.
twenty-six
Outside the newly built legislative building, Joseph craned his neck for a glimpse of Mercy. The bluejackets had prevented him from entering earlier with the women. And now he was standing like a bumbling idiot with all the other men along the crowded fence that connected the building to several others, all of which were part of the government complex.
He’d already attempted to convince the constables to allow him inside by assuring them he was one of the party, the ship’s surgeon, that he’d spent the past months with the women, and that he belonged with them. But the bluejackets had been instructed by the Female Immigration Committee not to allow any single men into the women’s quarters, and no amount of cajoling or bribing on Joseph’s part had worked to change their minds, not even when he informed them that he was Lord Colville, Baron of Wiltshire.
Of course, they’d profusely apologized but had maintained their strict stance. Joseph asked to see Lieutenant Verney or one of the other gentlemen on the welcoming committee. He was told that no one was readily available.
Finally, Joseph had wandered away, only to discover the women had been ushered into a side yard of the legislative building, where tubs of water were set up for them to wash their clothes. While it was a kind gesture from the ladies of the committee, little did they realize most of the poor women were wearing all they owned.
“I got my eyes fixed on that pretty gal right there,” said one of the many men, pointing as he vied for a spot along the fence. Joseph followed the man’s finger to the young women surrounding the tub closest to the back door of the building. He recognized the girls from Mercy’s cabin and then spotted her standing with them as they dipped their arms into the water.
“The one with the fair hair?” said another man with a weathered face, who sat perched atop the fence. “That’s the one I’m aiming to marry.”
“Guess we’ll see who gets to her first,” remarked a fellow on the opposite side of Joseph.
He had no doubt they were speaking of Mercy. She was the fairest of the women present in the yard. And though some of the wealthy women might possess more elegant garments and hats, Mercy was still the prettiest. Not even her travel-worn clothing could detract from her beauty.
Every word the men spoke regarding Mercy sliced inside him like a scalpel blade. Still, he reassured himself by recalling his conversation with her, when she’d told him in no uncertain terms that she was opposed to getting married. These men could rave all they wanted about her, but she wouldn’t give them a single second of her attention in return.
“Heard the reverend announce we could arrange a time to meet her,” one of them went on. “Said her name was Mercy Wilkins. Got myself on the list straightaway.”
“List?” Joseph asked, his heart rate spiking.
“Too late for you,” laughed the man. “That list filled up faster than a tavern on payday.”
Joseph didn’t see the humor in the situation. The entire afternoon had been taxing. From the first moment he’d seen all the men on the shore, he should have realized he’d find the proceedings distasteful and barbaric.
The women shouldn’t have had to walk through the crowds of leering and lusting men. About halfway to the legislative building he’d been tempted to hoist Mercy up into his arms and shout at everyone to stop their ogling.
Yes, he understood the men were isolated here in the colonies, that many of the miners who’d come down from the mountains had quite possibly gone for months without seeing a female. But that was no excuse for the vulgarity.
“That Pioneer,” said another man down the fence. “Guess he’s lucky with the gold and the girl.”
“If I had two thousand pounds, I’d buy me a wife too—especially Mercy Wilkins. Instead I’ll just have to win her over with my charm and good looks.” The comment drew a slew of guffaws among the other men.
Joseph wanted to inform them that wealth wouldn’t buy Mercy. After all, if his title and the aristocratic life hadn’t attracted her, then two thousand pounds wouldn’t either. If she didn’t want to marry him, she certainly wouldn’t want to marry any of these men. Would she?
He studied their eager, young faces. Most were of the laboring class, likely having emigrated from England, similar to the women they sought to wed. These were the kind of men Mercy was used to. Would she feel more comfortable with them than him? Would she eventually change her mind and marry one of them?
His body stiffened at the thought. Why was she arranging meetings anyway? After seeing the eligible men, had she already decided to put aside her reservations and get married?
“Why is there a list for Miss Wilkins?” Joseph asked again, trying for a measure of calmness he didn’t feel. “What if she doesn’t want to get married?”
“Oh, she does,” chimed in a different fellow. “The reverend, who was her chaperone on the ship, informed us she’ll pick a man and marry him by Sunday.”
“What the devil?” Joseph shook his head. Impossible. Mercy wouldn’t do such a thing. Could it be they had her mixed up with someone else? “The one with the fair hair, at the tub near the door?” he asked.
“That’s the one.”
Her back was facing the men. He willed her to turn and see him, so he could beckon her. Even now he was tempted to shout her name and call her over. If only he could do so where he might have a moment to speak to her alone without half the town’s male population watching them.
If Mercy had indeed changed her mind about getting married, if she really was picking a man and marrying by Sunday, then why had she turned down his proposal? She seemed to care for him. He assumed she’d enjoyed spending time with him as much as he had with her. Surely he hadn’t imagined her passionate response to him the time he’d kissed her.
But what if he’d misread her signals? After all, he hadn’t exactly courted or spent much time with women over the past few years. Perhaps his skills with the fairer sex were lacking. Maybe he’d only assumed she was attracted to him when instead she was relieved to be rid of him.
He shook his head. No. She’d been sincere earlier when she informed him that she’d miss him. And yet what if she would only miss him as a
friend? Doubts piled upon doubts until he didn’t know what to think.
“You fellows may as well go home and blubber,” chortled a stocky man sitting on the fence. “One look at me and she’ll take me right to her bed.”
“Watch your tongue,” Joseph rebuked sharply.
The man swiveled, glared at Joseph, then dropped to the ground. “You talking to me?”
“I’m talking to you and anyone else who decides to speak so obscenely about the women.”
The man was short but swarthy. He quickly shed his coat, revealing thickly muscled arms. “Who woke up and made you king today?”
Joseph wasn’t a man given to brawls, but he’d had to learn how to hold his own during his times at sea. After facing down mutineers, drunken sailors, and irate passengers, he wasn’t afraid of an insolent miner.
“I wouldn’t need to act like a king if you weren’t behaving like a donkey.” Joseph’s comment brought several snickers. Part of him warned he should turn and walk away, that he was in no frame of mind to deal with this particular man. But another part of him churned with the strange need to fight.
“I heard you talking to that bluejacket and tellin’ him you’re a lord or baron or something and trying to push your way around.” The man started rolling up his shirtsleeves. “If you think you can come here with all your highfalutin ways and start ordering us about, well, you got another thing comin’. We’re not bowing and yes-sir-ing and as-you-pleasing no more to no one. Not here in this new land. Here we’re free.”
Before the man could swing the first punch, Joseph lunged for him, grabbed the front of his shirt, and lifted him off the ground. He leaned his face into the man’s and glared. “If you treat the women with respect, I shan’t need to push you around.”
“Once I got me the woman, I can treat her any way I want,” the man rasped, struggling to free himself from Joseph’s grasp.
Joseph tightened his grip on the man’s shirt so that it began to choke him. “She’ll never be yours. Never.”
The anger inside him built up like steam in a ship’s boilers. The pressure hurt and needed release. But even as he brought his fist up, he shoved the miner, causing the man to stumble backward and fall to the ground, gasping for breath.
Without another word, Joseph spun and stalked away. Several of the others shouted after him, called him a coward for not finishing the fight. But Joseph kept on walking. He didn’t know where he was headed, only that he had to get away.
Minutes later, he found himself back on the wharf, the one they’d used when first coming ashore. Now that the women had left and were at the legislative building, the waterfront was deserted, the longboat gone. Even the HMS Forward had moved on.
The pressure in Joseph’s chest compelled him to keep going, to find someone to row him out to Esquimalt Lagoon near the naval base, where the Tynemouth was taking on fresh provisions and fuel in readiness for continuing the journey to the Hawaiian Islands. While the ship wasn’t scheduled to depart until midweek, Joseph wanted to board and weigh anchor as soon as possible.
He clasped his hands behind his back and stared across the straits. His breathing was ragged, his muscles tight, and his chest still burned.
What was wrong with him? Hadn’t he been looking forward to visiting Vancouver Island and exploring the area for the duration of the Tynemouth’s stay? And yet not once had he considered the landscape beyond a passing glance to the distant mountains. He hadn’t even been able to take in the glorious sunset the previous eve when they’d entered the Strait of Juan de Fuca.
“Where is a ship when you need one?” he muttered, looking around at the small boats moored nearby. Surely there was a fisherman or some other local who might be willing to ferry him to the Tynemouth.
As far as he could see, only empty boats bobbed in the mostly calm waters. Apparently every able-bodied man in Victoria was either attempting to get another glimpse of the bride-ship women or celebrating their arrival at one of the town’s many taverns.
He needed to leave and forget about Mercy. Then maybe the churning inside him would go away. Perhaps he’d find his sense of peace and adventure again.
But even as he attempted to rationalize his feelings, the gentle waves that rolled in and lightly rocked the wharf seemed to mock him. Had he sabotaged his proposal to Mercy yesterday so that she felt obligated to reject him? He certainly hadn’t spoken eloquently or tenderly. Instead, he’d brought up their class difference and had likely made her feel inferior.
Even if Captain Hellyer believed him to be a man who didn’t allow social status to influence him, clearly he still had much to learn about humility and treating others in a non-condescending manner.
With a groan, Joseph covered his face with both hands. He was a coward of the worst kind. Rather than staying and fighting for Mercy, for her reputation, for her safety, he’d started to run away again.
He turned back toward the fledgling town of Victoria. He’d find a way to meet with her again to discover the truth behind her plan to find a husband by Sunday. If she wanted marriage after all, then he’d have to convince her to choose him, this time asking for her hand with humility, as her equal. And if she still persisted with what she’d originally told him—that in fact she didn’t want to get married—then he’d help her gain the freedom she longed for.
Either way, he wouldn’t leave Victoria until he faced Mercy again and learned how she really felt.
twenty-seven
As Mercy hugged the girls from her cabin, an ache pressed against her chest, an ache she didn’t want to dwell upon.
“I’ll see you again, that I will,” she said. “We’ll be right close enough that we’ll be neighbors.”
They sniffled and brushed away tears even through their excited smiles.
“Come now, girls,” said one of the matrons from Victoria’s Female Immigration Committee who’d arrived at the legislative building a short while ago. “The representatives of your new homes are here. Please form a single line so that we may pair you with your new employers.”
Mercy stepped away from the orphans and expelled a breath to ease the pain in her lungs and throat. Joseph’s whispered words after Sarah’s death rolled through her mind, a thick fog of an emotion she didn’t care to name. “If you push aside your pain, you can go on. But it’s still there, buried deep.”
She’d never allowed herself to feel the heartache of the many children she’d lost over the years—not her baby siblings, not the neighbor children, not Sarah, and now not these precious girls. How could she endure it if she dwelled upon such things?
She’d survived this far by letting go of the pain and moving on with her life. And she’d have to do so again. Wasn’t that what she was doing with Joseph? As hard as it was, she must push aside all thoughts of him. She had to do the same with the girls.
Mercy crossed to the other side of the large room, where some of the other poor women had congregated. After they’d finished washing up outside, the matrons from the committee ushered them back into the building and proceeded to divide them into three groups.
The first group consisted of the youngest girls. Mercy was relieved to discover that her sweet lambs were being placed directly into homes where they would live and work as domestics. The Female Immigration Committee had decided the orphans were too young for immediate marriage and should work until they were a bit older.
The girls hadn’t protested. When they’d learned their wages were to be no less than twenty-five pounds a year, their delight had warmed Mercy’s heart.
The committee then formed a second group, including a few widows and the wealthy middle-class women, who would be offered employment as teachers and governesses. From what Mercy could gather, some had positions already waiting for them. However, there weren’t enough teacher or governess jobs available to match the demand, so some of these women were remaining behind to join the third group, the one Mercy had been put into.
“The rest of you shall be offered up a
s brides without delay,” the committee woman had said. After walking through the horde a short while ago, as well as doing their washing with the men looking on, the committee member’s remark had been met with a decided lack of enthusiasm.
If the other women felt anything like Mercy, then they were terrified by the overwhelming number of men and their wild exuberance about getting married. But as Mr. Scott had pointed out to her on the ship the previous day, the Columbia Mission Society had sponsored their trip, paid their fares, and made the arrangements for their care specifically to provide brides for the men in this new land. He’d made it quite clear that she was obligated to follow through with her part of the bargain, even if she hadn’t known the purpose of the voyage at first. Either that or she’d have to return home to England or else pay the Society back for the cost of her trip.
Although she hadn’t yet figured a way out of her predicament, she hadn’t stopped thinking about her options. Perhaps her best course of action was to continue her pretense. She’d act like all the others and attempt some enthusiasm at the prospect of marriage.
And she’d pray hard Mr. Scott would give up his threat to make sure she was one of the first women matched to a man. Thankfully, he hadn’t mentioned it again. Perhaps after Sophia Shaw’s proposal, he’d put it out of his mind. Or perhaps now that he’d had the chance to see for himself exactly how many men were waiting for a wife, he’d stop worrying about her and Joseph. If she could avoid Mr. Scott until the Tynemouth left, he’d soon be gone and out of her life.
A giant of a woman with wide shoulders, thick arms, and a heavy girth entered the building through a back door. Mercy recognized her as one of the women of the Female Immigration Committee, particularly because of her hat with its colorful feathers, as though a flock of jungle birds had made a nest there. In addition to her outlandish hat, she was attired in a gown that was bright and flashy, certainly not as genteel or delicate-looking as the other committee members.