He met my gaze with a tenderness I did not expect. “Tell me.”
I grinned at him, for I understood he was seeking my approval, that he wanted assurance that I could, potentially, be happy there. Perhaps it was over-confident and presumptuous of me, but I felt there was a connection between us that defied reason and experience. I felt as if we knew each other intimately, even though we’d only spent a few hours together. And I was convinced he felt the same way—that I had swept him off his feet just as powerfully as he had swept me off mine—and he was already considering the future.
“I love the vastness of it,” I said, looking up at the massive portico above us and the white Roman columns that supported it. “There is a perfect balance in the architecture. One side of the house is a mirror image of the other.” I looked out, beyond the railing. “And the wide green lawn and view of the sea… I love that with only the light of the moon, I can see all the way to where water meets sky. It’s like seeing to the very edges of the earth. And your staff seems so loyal and devoted to you. Footmen in Boston are not nearly so cheerful.” Captain Fraser chuckled softly at that.
“Your mother’s crystal is exquisite,” I added. “Where did she get it? I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
“My father brought it back from Singapore when they first married. He purchased it during an estate auction. It had belonged to an aristocratic Englishmen living with his concubine in the Far East.”
“Good heavens,” I said. “How positively scandalous. My mother would go mad for that story.”
He chuckled with amusement.
Inside the house, Mrs. Danforth continued to sing, and we listened for a moment.
“I wonder if she ever regretted leaving her glamorous career on the stage for married life here in Cape Elizabeth,” I said.
Captain Fraser shook his head. “She has everything a woman could ever desire,” he replied. “Her husband’s as rich as Croesus, and they only come here during the summer months. Otherwise, they’re in New York, and he doesn’t forbid her from performing. He encourages it, actually.”
“That sounds very modern and liberal. They do seem happy, despite the age difference.”
“I believe so,” he replied, “which is how it should be. As they say—the soul is ageless.”
“Is that what they say?”
He casually shrugged a shoulder. “I’ve heard it a time or two.”
While he regarded me intently in the glow of the moon, I took another sip of champagne and felt a pleasant warmth pour through my body. I was far too relaxed. My body felt like liquid.
I looked away. “Forgive me. I was nervous tonight. I drank too much wine and now I am a bit lightheaded.”
“Why were you nervous?” he asked, though I suspected he already knew the answer.
“Because I was looking forward to seeing you again. I didn’t know what to expect.”
He leaned casually upon the balustrade. “I was looking forward to seeing you again, too, Miss Hughes. You came into my life rather unexpectedly, standing at the side of the road as you were.”
“Like a drowned cat,” I replied, making fun of myself. “Shivering.”
“Thank havens for that, or you wouldn’t have accepted assistance from me, a complete stranger.”
“You mustn’t remind me. It was rather frightening for a moment or two. I had no idea what your intentions were.”
“I assure you, they were completely honorable.”
“Well, of course I know that now.”
He smiled again, and Mrs. Danforth stopped singing. The guests inside applauded and cheered.
“We should go back,” I said, finishing my champagne. “I feel guilty, keeping you from your party.”
“But this is where I want to be. Right here.”
“As do I. But we should go inside before my mother takes to worrying and causes a scene.”
“Very well.”
We turned away from the sparkling moonlit sea and crossed the wide veranda, moving slowly to the door.
The captain touched my arm. “I would like to call upon you, Miss Hughes—with your permission of course. Perhaps on Monday. It would give me great pleasure to escort you and your parents to the lighthouse for a tour. I am sure we could arrange it with Mr. Harvey this evening.”
“That sounds lovely,” I replied as we entered the house and returned to the drawing room just as Mrs. Danforth was curtsying before her captivated, adoring audience.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Portland Head Light, Monday
“As you can see,” Mr. Harvey said, leading us up the cast iron spiral staircase, “the tower is lined with brick, which was an improvement in ’55. And what you are about to see is a second-order Fresnel lens which was installed in ’64, after the wreck of the Bohemian, where forty immigrants perished. I wasn’t the keeper back then, but I’ve heard the tales.”
Our lighthouse tour proved to be a fascinating escapade, but equally fascinating was Captain Fraser’s continued ability to make a brilliant impression on my parents—my mother especially—who seemed to think she was the instigator and constant navigator of my budding romance.
“Mark my words,” she whispered in my ear when we first arrived at the lighthouse and stepped out of Captain Fraser’s luxurious carriage. “I’ll do whatever it takes to see you at the altar before the snow falls, because he is the catch of the century.”
“But it’s not up to you to make it happen,” I replied, knowing it was my pride talking, for I couldn’t abide the idea of my mother taking credit for Captain Fraser’s affection for me. She wasn’t the one who had inspired him to bring his carriage to a halt, throw open the door, and step out into the rain. If it weren’t for me, she would never even have made his acquaintance.
Later, after our journey up and down the tower stairs, followed by a leisurely walk along the cliff, Mr. Harvey invited us back to his single-story keeper’s cottage—a modest stone dwelling at the base of the tower. He offered us tea and biscuits, and while the water boiled on the iron stove, he entertained us with more thrilling tales of his life as a fisherman.
Then, suddenly, in the middle of one of his exciting anecdotes, the door swung open, and a young man, who appeared to be about my age, stepped into the light. He carried a load of kindling and wore a gray woolen cap. His windblown, honey-blond hair was in desperate need of a trim, for it nearly reached his shoulders.
Abruptly, he halted his stocky frame in the open doorway. “Good morning,” he said, appearing surprised by our presence in the front room.
Mr. Harvey beckoned for him to step inside. “Come in, come in. Close the door behind you and say hello to Mr. and Mrs. Hughes, who are new to the area, and their charming daughter, Evangeline. You already know Captain Fraser. Everyone, this is my nephew, Laurence Williams.”
Mr. Williams moved across the room to the woodstove, where he set the firewood down with a clatter in a wooden box. Straightening, he wiped his hands on the front of his tattered wool jacket, stepped toward my father with his hand outstretched, and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
Father stood to shake the young man’s hand, while Mr. Harvey continued to explain: “Mr. Williams is assistant lighthouse keeper. He’s been with me for the better part of a year, and if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have the luxury of accepting generous invitations to fancy dinner parties and musical performances.”
Captain Fraser, seated at the table with one long leg crossed over the other, said, “Williams, one of these days I will invite you instead, and Mr. Harvey can be the one to hold down the fort.”
Mr. Williams smiled. “That would be very good, sir. And I wouldn’t feel guilty about it. Not one bit.”
The men laughed and Mr. Harvey slapped his nephew on the back. “Poor lad hasn’t had a day off in six months. Join us for a cup of tea, son. You’ve earned it.”
Mr. Williams pulled a chair away from the wall, spun it around and sat astride it. “So you’re
new to the area?” he asked me directly.
“Yes, we’re from Boston,” I replied. “My father just retired.”
“Ah. Well, you picked a good place for the next chapter of your life, sir,” Mr. Williams said to my father. “There are plenty of decent people in this town who would give you the shirt off their backs. And it’s just about the prettiest place on earth in the summer months when the flowers are blooming, the breeze is blowing, and the water is warm enough for a swim.”
“It’s never quite that warm,” Mr. Harvey disagreed as he removed the kettle from the stove and filled the teapot. “Once you’ve bathed in the turquoise waters of the Caribbean, it spoils you for the North Atlantic, even in August. Sometimes I wish I’d never taken that plunge.”
My mother perked up excitedly. “Oh, do tell us about that, Mr. Harvey. What was it like, swimming so close to the equator? I cannot even imagine.”
He described the climate in St. Thomas and Mexico, and the extreme heat that could make a robust man faint dead away on his feet. The conversation was lively and relaxed as we sipped our tea and enjoyed biscuits with strawberry jam.
Soon it was time for us to go, and we rose from our wooden chairs to thank Mr. Harvey and his nephew. They walked us outside toward Captain Fraser’s coach, but halfway there, I realized I had forgotten my gloves on the table.
“I’ll fetch them for you.” Mr. Williams jogged back to the little stone house. I waited a moment or two in the yard while Mother and Father climbed into the vehicle, causing it to bounce slightly under their weight. At last, Mr. Williams reappeared in the doorway.
“I can’t find them, Miss Hughes!” he called out to me. “Are you certain you don’t have them?”
I quickly checked my reticule, and sure enough, I had stuffed them into the bottom. “I do beg your pardon, Mr. Williams! Here they are!” I quickly pulled them out, waved them at him, and tugged them on.
He ran back to meet me. “It’s just as well, because I found this on the floor. Is it yours?”
He opened his rough, callused hand to reveal a pearl earring in a drop setting.
“Yes, it’s mine. Gracious, that’s never happened before.” I reached up to check my other earlobe, to make sure that earring was still in place. “These were a gift from my late grandmother. I would have been heartbroken to lose them.” I plucked the earring from his palm and dropped it into my reticule. “I will have this checked before I wear it again.”
All the while, Captain Fraser was conversing with Mr. Harvey outside the coach, waiting for me to join them.
“Have you made many new friends since you arrived, Miss Hughes?” Mr. Williams asked me. “Sometimes it’s difficult in a new place, to meet people your own age. If you like, you could come to a corn boil on Saturday at the Smiths’, around 7:00. They live at Smuggler’s Cove.”
“Smuggler’s Cove… That sounds a bit dodgy.”
He laughed. “Nothing to worry about. The Smiths are decent folk. Their son’s a fiddle player and it’s always a rip-roaring good time. I hope you’ll come. You can bring your parents, of course. Mr. Smith would be happy to meet them. He’s friendly and hospitable.”
Mr. Williams stopped and faced me, not far from the open door of the coach, and waited for an answer. My eyes roamed over his sun-bronzed face, golden hair and bright blue eyes. There was something youthful, energetic and lighthearted about him, yet something that suggested experience and wisdom as well.
“I will think about it,” I replied. “Thank you for the invitation. I enjoyed meeting you.”
I turned and laid my gloved hand upon Captain Fraser’s. With a handsome, charming smile, he assisted me into the vehicle, then entered and sat beside me. The nearness of his strong, muscular body caused a shock of awareness in me, and I swallowed hard, hoping my cheeks were not suddenly flushed with color.
A moment later, as we rolled away on carriage wheels that bumped over the rutted lighthouse road, I realized I felt very at home in this place and excited about the future. That clarity helped me to realize how foolish we can be at times—to fear the unknown, when occasionally the unknown can be far better than anything we ever imagined. I decided from that moment on never to resist change or steer away from new horizons.
I glanced at my mother just then, seated across from me. She frowned with disapproval.
Chapter Twenty-eight
“What were you thinking, accepting an invitation from that crude young man when you were in the presence of the captain? What must he be thinking?”
“I didn’t accept Mr. William’s invitation,” I said, as I fumbled around the top of my straw hat for my hatpin, found it and yanked it out. “I told him I would think about it. And he wasn’t crude. He was very polite. He found my earring for me. I am grateful for that. You should be, too. It was Grandmother’s earring.” I tossed the hat onto my bed.
“His clothing was dirty and threadbare,” she argued, “and did you see the way he plunked himself down on that chair, astride, without even removing his cap?”
I turned to the dressing table and removed my bracelet and necklace. “We’re not in Boston anymore, Mother, and I don’t see why we cannot overlook a few breaches in rules of etiquette. It’s not as if we were in the presence of royalty. And Mr. Harvey was perfectly hospitable. You mustn’t complain. It was a wonderful day. I enjoyed myself tremendously, and I believe the captain did as well.”
Mother paced about the room. “So is that your plan? To play them against each other? To try them both on for size and see which one you prefer? It would be a pointless exercise, Evangeline, because there is no comparison.”
“That is not my plan at all,” I calmly replied, aiming to pacify her. “Mr. Williams was merely acting as a good neighbor should. He was very welcoming. And you needn’t worry. Just now, when Captain Fraser said good-bye to me on the front porch, he asked if he could call again on Saturday. He wishes to take us all out for a sunset sail. I told him yes. I hope that was all right.”
Mother’s face lit up like the impressive Fresnel lens we had just seen at the lighthouse. “Saturday! Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
“I’m saying it now.”
She gave me a sneaky, satisfied grin—as if this were an elaborate game of chess and we’d just captured the king. Striding toward me, taking my shoulders in her hands, she said, “So you have made your choice. You won’t be free to attend Mr. William’s corn boil, for you will be sailing the high seas with a handsome gentleman who might as well be royalty in this part of the world.”
“Yes, I have made my choice. Although…he is older than me, Mother. Do you think that is an issue?”
“Certainly not,” Mother replied. “I doubt he’s a day over thirty-five, and that is young by my standards. You did the right thing to accept his invitation.”
How could I not have accepted? I was feverish with constant dreams of him, and I could barely contain my desire to see him again.
Back at the lighthouse, when he had taken hold of my hand and assisted me into the coach, all my senses had leapt to life, and I felt like a breathless girl of fifteen.
What would it be like to be held in his arms? I wondered languorously as my mother picked up her skirts and hurried downstairs to tell Father the good news—that on Saturday, we would not be attending the corn boil at Mr. Smith’s at Smuggler’s Cove. We would be sailing around Casco Bay on Captain Fraser’s luxurious yacht.
I flopped onto my bed and smiled.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Two months later, when the leaves turned red, yellow and gold, and the air grew crisp in the mornings, the summer residents left town and everything felt quieter and more serene in Cape Elizabeth. Except for my heart, which caused a continuous commotion in me.
Captain Fraser had been courting me formally since the night he took us sailing, and since then, my feelings for him had grown stronger and more passionate with each passing day. He paid regular calls to our seaside cottage, and invited us to hi
s mansion for dinner with prominent members of local society. Occasionally, he and I arranged to meet secretly when I took afternoon strolls to collect seashells on the beach. We would walk together and talk, until it was time for me to return home.
Mother never questioned the propriety of my solitary afternoons. Perhaps she believed Cape Elizabeth was a safe place for a young woman alone, or perhaps she knew I was meeting the captain and did not wish to interrupt the speed and progress of our courtship. Some might have considered her lack of interference to be negligent and irresponsible, but I was not one of those critics, for nothing mattered more to me than being in the presence of the handsome, beloved captain of my soul.
Looking back on it, I probably shouldn’t have felt so romantic about the whole affair, as if I were living in a fairy tale. Perhaps it would have been wiser to maintain a more judicious attitude and be prepared for future hard times and disappointments, which would undoubtedly come.
Eventually.
o0o
“I was about to give up on you,” I said to Captain Fraser late one October afternoon, when I met him on top of the sand dune on my way off the beach. The sky had turned overcast and the wind gusted, whipping my skirts around my ankles. I gathered my shawl more tightly about my shoulders. “I’ve been walking up and down the beach for almost an hour, but you never came, and now I have to go.”
“I’m sorry to be late,” he replied, striding forward onto the dune with purpose and determination.
Though I was angry with him for keeping me waiting—for he had promised to arrive well over an hour ago—I couldn’t help but marvel at how handsome he looked in his dark, tailored jacket and blue silk neckcloth. Just the sight of him in the gray light of the afternoon filled me with rapture and melted away all my fears and frustrations—for he had not stood me up after all.
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