by Claudy Conn
That sound—the rustle of a silk skirt.
The captain’s brow rose and he grinned at his sister’s expression. Louise Davenant stood, her cashmere shawl tightly wrapped around her well-shaped shoulders, and her expression of doubt quite evident as she said, “Maurice? Who is this woman and this boy?”
“As it happens, my dear,” he answered her in English, and Heather noted the surprise on the woman’s face. “I have not as yet discovered the answer to such a pertinent question. Come, let us all retire to my cabin and uncover the secrets of this affair.”
Heather turned to Bunky and smiled reassuringly, for she could see her companion was still looking about himself with some trepidation. “There now, Bunky, they won’t throw us to the sharks after all.”
The captain evidently heard this remark, stopped and roared with laughter. “Indeed, resty easy…er…Bunky, I have no intention of feeding you to the fish.”
~ Eleven ~
SO IT WAS THAT WHILE Heather Martin’s future took shape on the high seas, Godwin near lost his mind on land.
He took up residence with his friend, Captain John Pearson, in those first early days. Afraid of the hatred he felt for Sara. Even in her present condition, he thought it best to remain as far away from her as he could.
His friend cast a knowing eye and finally took Godwin in hand. They set sail on his yawl and made for St. Pol-de-Léon. The information they received allowed them an educated guess. This French port was known to house smugglers, and by this time, he was sure that a crew of smugglers was behind her abduction.
Together, they arrived in the little French town and set off to find more information about Heather. The town housed two bordellos, and sick at heart, they searched both.
Captain John held his friend steady when they left the second of the two brothels where they were told that a girl had been promised to them, but evidently had run off before she could be delivered.
“Thank the fates…she seems to have escaped, but where did she go, John? Where?”
They hoped beyond hope and Godwin dreaded the worst, then miraculously they found someone who had noticed Heather.
He was an elderly sailor versed in the English tongue, for he told them that he had learned the language in better times.
“Tiens,” he remarked. “A man could not help but remember that one. Oui, I saw the little flower running and ducking, and knew she was in trouble. She had some young lad with her, looking more frightened than she. Mon dieu…sad, she looked so sad. I thought to offer my help, but they vanished before I could do so.”
Godwin pressed a gold coin into his hand. “More…what more can you tell us?”
The old sailor smiled, displaying teeth that were worn and yellowed in his withered mouth. He shook his head. “I know nothing more.”
Godwin shook his friend’s shoulder. “She escaped them. My little treasure must have gotten one of the young seamen to help her, and she escaped them. Do you hear, John, it is certain now. She escaped them.”
John was a big man, and still had to look up to study Godwin’s face. “Aye, but I have to say it, my friend. She escaped them, but never returned to Cornwall. And Godwin, there is every chance that she won’t.”
“Why would you say that? Why?”
“She loves you. She is carrying your child, but Sara arranged for her to be abducted and sold. She won’t put her baby at risk.”
“I know Heather. She will not give up. She will try to find a way home to me. She knows I am nothing without her. She knows how much I want this child with her.”
John said nothing to this, and Godwin knew that his friend did not agree. They returned to Cornwall and to Captain John’s small estate.
Godwin’s nights were spent in dreaming and praying, “Let her be safe, let our child she now carries thrive. Let me one day see them both alive and well.”
Captain John, who watched over him, kept him occupied with other matters, helped him search for word that Heather Martin had managed to return to Cornwall, knowing this was something his friend would never get over.
Godwin visited the cottage daily, in the hopes that if she returned, she would go there.
More than a month went by, and they had discovered no further clues as to where Heather could be. Godwin sank into depression. “John, my life is over if her life is done.”
“I have been thinking, Godwin,” his friend said. “So hear me out. Heather and this young smuggler who helped her escape may have hidden themselves not on land, but on a docked vessel. It is possible that while they were being chased the two took refuge from her abductors on another boat.”
“Then why did she not get off that boat and find a way home to me?” Godwin shook his head. “Only death would keep her from me.”
“No, now and then, the fates do us unexpectedly. What if they were unable to get off this haven of a boat…what if it sailed and they were too frightened to immediately show themselves? Perhaps it is only time that keeps you apart. Perhaps she will still find a way?”
Space and fear for Heather had brought Godwin low. He believed his friend was merely trying to give him hope. “Thank you, John. I know what you are doing, but that is a farfetched notion. No. My heart is dead, my life is over,” Godwin said, and poured whiskey down his throat.
* * * * *
Summer’s warmth enveloped the Liberté as it sliced waves of dark blue. Heather stared at the white horses of the deep, turned away and leaned into the stern. Ahead, she could see the water’s shades become aquamarine.
She squealed to see dolphins swim near the boat as they played with one another. Oh, it would be all so glorious, would be so if only she were sailing back to Godwin. The comte had promised to help them and he was a good, kind man. She had no doubts on that score.
Their destination, she now knew, was Barbados, the isle of sugar cane and rum. Maurice had also told her it was the isle of song, of long sweet nights and gentle charms. He had told her it was a haven, and his sister had clapped her hands with excitement at the thought of such an isle after he had told his stories.
Heather’s sadness would have engulfed her had she not believed she would soon be traveling back home.
She had no interest in going to this tropical island, though she admitted some curiosity about such an exotic sounding place. Heather worried and wondered about Godwin and what he would think of her disappearance. Would he believe the words Sara had made her write?
Maurice and his sister had heard her tale in its entirety. Louise had exclaimed ‘mon dieu’ many times, and Maurice had once run a hand through his fine auburn hair and said, “Barbaric…”
Indeed, she had held nothing back. She had told them how she and Godwin had met, how unhappy Godwin had been, how Sara had cunningly tricked him into marriage. They knew it all and while she had believed they would hold her actions in contempt, call her a jade, they did not. They were completely sympathetic. Louise had, in fact, taken her into a passionate embrace and cried for her.
“Love…we French hold true love as all important,” Louise said. “We must right this wrong.”
Maurice had said nothing to this as he watched the two women put their heads together in sorrow.
His sister turned to him. “Is that not right, dear brother?”
“Of course,” he said at last. “We shall make arrangements for Miss Martin…our dear Heather, and her manservant, her Bunky,” he smiled sadly, “to return to England on the first passenger vessel available.” He inclined his head and said with a small smile, “This time as first class passengers, not stowaways.”
Heather smiled warmly as she squeezed Louise’s hand and gave him a thankful look. “Thank you. I will repay you as soon as I may.”
He waved this off impatiently. “Not necessary, my dear,” he said softly. “It is a simple thing, and I can well afford it.”
“I have discovered there is nothing simple about this life,” Heather said in a voice touched with bitterness.
“Indeed
, I quite agree, with all the multitudinous complexities, I am certain that is quite true. However, in this case, getting you home safely is a priority if that is what you wish. Money…my dear, is of no consequence,” he answered gently.
Heather could not stop worrying about Godwin and what Sara might have done during all the time that had fled by. She could not prove what Sara had done to her, which would leave Sara free to harm her again when she returned. Sara might even be wicked enough to harm her child when it was born on English soil? Oh, but it was all so complicated. Could Godwin keep her, their child, and himself safe from such a ruthless woman?
Then there was Bunky to consider. Sara was just the sort to do him harm for helping Heather escape. Her mind was full of thoughts and concerns that gave her no rest. At last, she silently decided she would have to put such notions aside or go mad.
However, the question remained…and what of Roderick? They should have put more thought into Roderick, thoughts that grew stronger as her belly began to swell. The boy believed he was Godwin’s son. She wanted him to go on believing that…she wanted Roderick to be unaffected by the love Godwin and she had for one another. Was that even possible?
If she accused Roderick’s mother of such a crime…what of him?
She had to face the facts. She was a woman plucked from all nearer ties, and wounded by the force of another woman’s cunning wickedness. She was confused by her own needs. In the past, she had never seen herself as a fighter. A fighter had never been in her nature, so how could she call on such a trait now? How could she return and stand up to Sara?
She confessed all these doubts to Maurice and discovered, for she was a woman and knew the signs, for he had fallen in love with her.
What had she done? She saw it in his eyes. No. Oh no. Hurting Maurice was the last thing she wanted to do, and she could see that was what she was about to do.
He was good and kind and she was doomed to hurt him! She was a devil, she suddenly thought. She hurt everyone she touched.
* * * * *
Maurice watched Heather from the far end of his vessel and he longed to tell her how he felt. She was so young. He was eight and thirty. He was too old for her, and surely, he could fight what he felt?
He had squandered his youth in his studies, in his love for sailing, and in his shyness. Ah, he had been useless in the art of romance. He remembered his first affaire du Coeur. His brother had dragged him to the French court and a young beauty had captured his eyes and held him riveted. She had teased and flirted with him, wrenching his heart from his chest and easily making it her own.
He was a second son. Only a second son. His brother held the title, the estates, and the bulk of the money. His brother was married and all these things would pass to his brother’s first born son. This was common knowledge. The beauty knew this.
No one at the time reckoned with the Reign of Terror.
His beloved gave her hand to another. He did not blame her. He had nothing but love to offer her. His income would never be enough to keep her in the style to which she was accustomed. It was the way of his world.
Still, he pined for her a very long time. And now, much against his will, he was in love again. This time, the woman of his dreams carried another man’s child and thought of no one but that particular man. Why had the fates treated him thusly?
She was exquisite. She leaned against the bulwarks, her long flame colored hair blowing in the wind, as was the blue silks borrowed from his sister.
She shaded her eyes from the sun as he approached, then she turned to give him a welcoming smile.
“I know you have been giving a great deal of thought to your situation. What have you decided?” he asked.
“Oh, don’t ask me that, dear sir.” Heather hung her head.
“Why, don’t you know? Could it be your feelings…have changed?” he asked, and she heard the hope in his tone.
How could she hurt him? “It is so very hard to know the answer. You see, I am aware that our love, mine and Godwin’s, was in some ways quite wicked.” She stalled him from objecting. “I make no excuses for us. I tell myself that his wife is evil and hurt him from the start. But it is more than that. I think if I returned to him…it would put Godwin’s life in danger. You cannot know the look in her eyes when she cast me on the smugglers. You cannot know the determination she is capable of wielding.”
“Indeed, but she committed a crime, you can bear witness against this Sara person,” he answered. He took her arms and held her in place. “Heather, my sweet Heather. I don’t want you to have regrets.”
“How can I make the right decision? If I bore witness against her, it would ruin Roderick…he is but a boy.”
“Mon dieu, mais oui, but that is on her, not you,” he offered, and shook his head. “You are too good.”
“That doesn’t matter, does it? The boy would still suffer the consequences of her actions…perhaps forever. His name would be blighted by her actions.”
“But what of your child? Should not l’enfant you carry…bear a name?” he persisted.
They had hashed this same conversation out many times. She was weary. Her conclusion was always the same. She could not keep her child from Godwin and yet…how could she return? She didn’t have an answer. She turned her back to Maurice and stared at the lovely waters.
The voyage had taken over a month. They had hit some bad weather, which had stalled them a few days, but now she was about to embark on another chapter of her life. She had two choices. Maurice had given her two choices. What was the right one?
How she loved her baby already. The right thing for her child and for her was to be with Godwin. Should she write him…tell him what happened? How could she be sure he would get her letter with Sara in the house?
While she silently argued with herself, and kept her eye away from Maurice, he turned her to face him and whispered desperately, “Heather, don’t go back, ma chérie…you know in your heart, oui, you know life now for you has changed. Stay with me, be my wife. You must know how I feel?”
She looked directly at him. His grey eyes were full with love and that drove a knife into her heart. Whatever she decided, it would hurt him. She did not love Maurice. She loved Godwin, thus, if she stayed with him, he would never know true love. If she left, it would hurt him…she knew for a very long time. “Maurice, listen to me,” she said softly. “I carry another man’s child. I carry the dreams of another man’s arms…I…”
“Non, I tell you, I will make you love me,” he begged.
“You deserve better than I,” she pleaded. How could she ever give herself to anyone other than Godwin? She would go back and live in secret, on the outskirts as Godwin’s mistress. No one need ever know, she told herself. That way, he could watch his babe grow up.
“Mignonne…” he pleaded. “Have you no notion how ravissant and wondrous you are to me? I would be husband to you, father to your child, live to make you happy. Believe me,” he begged.
Heather’s heart cracked for him. She cared for him because he was dear and good, and did not want him to throw himself at her feet as he was doing. “How could I do such a thing to you? I do not love you that way, Maurice. You know that.”
“Give me the opportunity, the time to make you love me that way.”
She knew this was the ‘call’ of all unrequited lovers. “No, my dear Maurice. You are not presently thinking clearly. I could not take such advantage of your kindness. How could I be so cruel to you? No.”
“Cruel? My dear, to call you wife would be a joy. Take advantage? My sweet life, I am years older than you. It is I that would be taking advantage of you.”
“And what of Godwin?” she answered after a long pause. “Should I leave him to think I abandoned our love…stole his child from him?”
“He believes you are lost to him by now. He will forget. Time has a way of dulling the senses, and he has his family.”
“No, he will never stop loving me. I know that as a fact. My brain and
my heart tell me that. No, Maurice, no.”
Heather could see him grapple with his emotions. He took her shoulders in a desperate attempt to change her mind, and shook her ever so slightly. “Heather, what of the enfant? Have you the right to bring a fatherless child into the world when an alternative is offered?”
She did not speak.
“Answer me, Heather!”
It was as though his words had formed an open hand and slapped her. She was surprised by his vehemence and taken aback. A tear formed and spilled over. She saw her dream of getting back to Godwin singed with all the impossible truths. An inner voice told her that Godwin was a beloved memory that she had to put away for the realities of life.
The horror of this idea flashed through her and she yelled, “No…no…” She was about to run from him.
Ashamed, he reached for her arm and stayed her. “Forgive me, Heather. All I want is to protect you and instead, I am causing you pain.” He had to allow her to make this decision on her own. He took her into his arms and whispered, “Ma belle, non, my petite. I will see you through this…and it shall be as you direct.”
She allowed him to hold her tight, admitted to herself that there was comfort in the safety of his strong protective arms. She was, she knew, in the grip of treacherous waters, and he was the only life raft in sight. “You understand, Maurice, you understand why I cannot marry you?”
“I understand, my love,” was his sad answer.
~ Twelve ~
BARBADOS! HEATHER STOOD ON BOARD the Liberté as it was safely docked in Bridgetown Harbor. The market was full with color. Women carried baskets on their heads filled with produce, hawking their wares as they made their way down the busy avenues.
Sailors laughed and jested with one another. Wagonloads of products were being loaded onto ships that would travel back to Europe. The warm air enveloped her, and Heather found herself mesmerized by this new and vibrant land.