Kit hadn’t left anyone behind. He was all alone, and being at sea, surrounded by people, kept him from being lonely. He dreaded going home to his silent, empty house; the house where Helena used to wait for him, flushed with happiness at having him back. The couple who took care of the house always welcomed him home, but retired as soon as they could, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He had grown up in that house, and could still remember his beautiful mother sewing by the fire or playing the lute, and his father coming back from months at sea and sweeping him up into a bear-like embrace; asking him about all the things he learned while his old dad was away. And there was always Caro, who loved him unconditionally. He’d been very sad when she married and went to live with her husband at Court. He missed her dreadfully.
Kit thought that all boys had such loving and gentle families, but he later came to realize that he had been very lucky. He’d been surrounded by love growing up, and later when he married Helena; and that was such a stark contrast to his life now. He had no financial need to go to sea. He could live comfortably in his London house, or Essex country estate, for the rest of his days, but he felt stifled at home with time weighing heavily on his hands.
It had been nearly seven years since his father died, and just over two since the Black Death took his wife and mother. He supposed he should think of marrying again, but the young ladies he met on his visits to Court seemed shallow and calculating; their only desire to snare a husband with a title and as much property as they could. Kit had both the title and the property, but his heart was at peace only at sea.
Kit was distracted from his thoughts by a slight movement on the deck. He couldn’t see the face, but he could tell from the walk that it was Mistress Jamison. Mrs. Collins was too portly and Miss Collins too timid to come up on deck by herself in the middle of the night.
“Mistress Jamison,” he called out softly. “Are you quite all right?” She looked up at him, her face bleached of all color by the moonlight and her eyes nearly black. “Would you like to come up?”
Mistress Jamison lifted her hem to avoid tripping and walked up the steps to the bridge. She looked anxious and tired.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said quietly. “It’s so lovely up here when no one is about.”
“Yes. I like to be here at this hour, just before the sun starts to come up and everyone rises and reports for duty. Were you worried about something?” He knew he had no business prying, but he wanted to know what was keeping her awake.
“I was worried about arriving in Virginia.”
“Do you have family there?” Kit saw her whole body tense and felt terrible for asking.
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Louisa looked out over the shimmering water toward the invisible line of the horizon. “I’m searching for my sister. I know she was in Virginia in 1610, but I’ve heard nothing since, and I’m terrified that she won’t be there anymore. What will I do? Where will I go?”
“Would you return to England if you did not find her or settle in the New World?” Kit thought, quite irrationally, that he would like her to return to England.
“I honestly don’t know. Everything depends on what happens when I get there.” She looked so scared that he wished he could take her in his arms and comfort her, but he pushed the thought away. It would be bad enough if someone saw her up here alone with him, without him making matters worse.
“If there is anything I can do to assist you; just ask. I will not return to England until I know that you are safe with your sister and have no wish to return.”
“Thank you, Mr. Sheridan. I appreciate your offer more than you know.” With that Louisa turned and left the bridge, bound for her cabin.
Kit looked up at the sky. The stars were beginning to fade, just a hint of light visible on the horizon. He loved the moment when the first fiery glimmer of the sun began to appear above the water, painting the sky pink and gold. Kit suddenly felt sorry that he couldn’t share the beauty of the sunrise with Mistress Jamison, and turned away.
Chapter 14
“Oh, he is a fine figure of a man, isn’t he? A fine figure, indeed.” Mrs. Collins was eyeing the reverend as he emerged onto the deck from below. Louisa supposed that if the man remained silent for more than ten minutes, he could be labeled as attractive. With his shoulder-length dark hair, peppered with gray, and storm-colored eyes, he could be appealing to some. The reverend obviously took care to stay in shape, his tall form lean and graceful as he made his way toward the ladies.
“He is, Mrs. Collins, and what a fine husband he would make for your daughter,” Louisa agreed, smiling blandly.
“Oh, you’ve read my mind, my dear. How perceptive you are. My Anne would be most honored by a proposal from a man like the dear reverend. If only she would be more … what’s the word I am looking for … coy, encourage him a bit. Might you have a word with her, Mistress Jamison, and sing the praises of the reverend?”
“I will do everything in my power,” Louisa nodded. The reverend had become even more persistent, and she had to do something to discourage him without making an enemy of him. Anne Collins would actually be the perfect bride for him; shy and compliant. Louisa got a sudden image of the reverend performing his husbandly duties. The man probably wouldn’t even take off his nightshirt, just lift it enough to do the deed. Her eyes fell on Mr. Sheridan, standing on the bridge. She suddenly wondered if he was married, and how he performed his husbandly duties.
Louisa turned away in embarrassment. What was she thinking? This wasn’t the “Love Boat”, for God’s sake. She was on a mission to find her sister, not snag a seventeenth century husband. She was distracted from her thoughts by the appearance of Anne Collins. The girl came up on deck, her eyes firmly glued to the scrubbed planks under her feet. Anne would be a pretty girl if she wore something other than beige and gray, and didn’t scrape her hair into that severe bun. Reverend Blackley didn’t even turn his head as Anne came up; concentrating all his attention on Louisa instead.
“Mistress Jamison, might I interest you in a stroll?” the reverend asked, offering Louisa his arm.
“Thank you, Reverend. I’m a little tired tonight, but I think Miss Collins just came up for that very purpose, haven’t you, Miss Collins? Would you be so kind as to keep Reverend Blackley company?” The poor girl blushed crimson, but nodded politely.
“I would be delighted, Reverend,” she murmured, and took the reverend’s arm.
“Well done, Mistress Jamison,” a voice behind her said. “Well done, indeed.” Louisa turned around to find Mr. Sheridan standing behind her, studying her with his head cocked to the side. A smile played about his lips, lighting up those bottomless eyes. “Are you enjoying the books I lent you?”
“I am. Thank you so much. I’m almost done with the second book of poetry. You mentioned that you have “Macbeth.”
“Yes. I have several plays. Should I get them for you now?” He made no move to leave, but Louisa just shook her head.
“Tomorrow will be just fine. I wanted to stay up here a little bit longer. It’s such a beautiful evening. I’ve never seen so many stars.”
“You have an even more spectacular view from the bridge. Would you like to see it?” Louisa was surprised. No one was allowed on the bridge unless specifically invited by the captain, and their previous meeting on the bridge a few nights ago hadn’t been mentioned. It was their secret. “My next shift starts at 10 p.m. If you would join me on the bridge, I can show you how to steer the ship. Would you like that?”
“Yes. I would. See you then, Mr. Sheridan.” Louisa went down to the cabin. She felt suddenly flustered and she wondered why. She had flirted with plenty of men in her life, but this felt different somehow. These men were different. They weren’t like the men of her time who felt free to admire a woman, flirt with her, and even sleep with her; with no obligation. These men meant business, and to lead them on was dangerous. She had no idea what the first mate’s designs on her were, but she had to tread carefully.
It was easy enough to fob off the reverend on Miss Collins, or to be coy with the captain, but this man made her feel things she hadn’t felt in a long time, not since she met Doug. His warm gaze left her breathless, the sudden sight of him across the ship giving her butterflies in her stomach. Louisa leaned against the railing of the deck in an effort to push away her dangerous thoughts. She was simply scared and lonely, trapped in a world so vastly different from her own. She longed for affection, and she was drawn to the first attractive, charming man she saw.
She wondered what Valerie felt like when she found herself in the past. Did she fall in love with Finlay because she was scared and lonely? Why did she choose him over the other brother? What drew her to him? From what Mrs. Dobbs had said, Finlay sounded a bit wild, untamed. Did Valerie see him as a challenge, or did he take advantage of her fragile state and seduced her? She had so many questions for her sister. She only wished she would get the chance to ask them.
Chapter 15
Louisa waited a little past ten o’clock and slipped out of the cabin. Agnes was already asleep, and she hoped that the reverend was asleep in his cabin as well. She had no desire to see his eyes narrowed in speculation as he watched her go up on the bridge to join Mr. Sheridan. She suddenly wondered what his name was. Sometimes she was amazed by the formality that ship life demanded. Everyone called each other by their surnames. Even the twelve-year-old cabin boy was called Mr. Willis. She hadn’t heard her own name since she spoke to Mr. Taylor in the shop two weeks ago. Everyone referred to her as Mistress Jamison, not Louisa, and the only person she called by her name was Agnes.
The night sky was a velvety black as Louisa came up on deck. She liked the ship at night. There was much less activity since most of the crew was already down below, sleeping in their hammocks; resting up for another day of hard work. A lamp swayed gently from one of the beams, the candle inside throwing flickering shadows on a coil of rope and a barrel of tar. Several shadowy figures moved about the deck, but they were just sailors going about their evening tasks. She looked up at the bridge. The first mate was there alone, one hand on the wheel, eyes staring off into the distance. She walked up the steps and joined him at the wheel.
“Good evening, Mistress Jamison. I hoped you would come.” Louisa could see the moon reflected in those dark eyes, taking in her appearance. She hadn’t bothered to put her hair up, and it tumbled around her shoulders, gently blowing in the breeze off the sea. In her modern life, she used a flat iron to make it straight, but here, she had no choice but to let it dry naturally whenever she was lucky enough to actually wash it. The honey-blond waves framed her face, making her look younger than her twenty-nine years. Most of the time she wore a ruffled cap, that served the dual purpose of making her look modest and keeping her hair clean and vermin-free.
“Would you like to steer?” the first mate asked, his eyes never leaving her face.
Mr. Sheridan moved away from the wheel, making room for Louisa. She stepped in front of him and put her hands on the spokes, enjoying the smoothness of the polished wood beneath her fingers. The wheel felt surprisingly heavy. She couldn’t have turned it on her own even if she wanted to. The first mate came up behind her, putting his hands over hers, his body almost touching her, but not quite. She could sense his warmth in the coolness of the night, suddenly longing to lean against him, to feel his arms around her, holding her tight.
“What’s your name?” she whispered. She wasn’t sure if he heard her above the rustling of the wind, but he did. He waited a moment before he answered, no doubt startled by the question.
“Christopher, but the people who matter call me Kit. What is yours?”
“Louisa, but the people who matter call me Lou,” replied Louisa playfully, despite the hammering of her heart.
“That’s a beautiful name for a beautiful woman, but I prefer Louisa to Lou. It’s more feminine.” Louisa could feel his breath in her hair. He was much taller than her, so his mouth was just above her head. Had he moved closer or was it her imagination? Louisa gripped the wheel tighter to avoid her thoughts. Her body was leaning back on its own accord, looking for the comfort of his. Christopher’s fingers began to caress her hands under his own, and she heard him suck in his breath.
“Thank you, Mr. Sheridan. I’d better go back to my cabin now.” She withdrew her hands from under his and turned around, finding his face only inches away from her own.
“Yes. You’d better. Good night … Louisa.”
Chapter 16
Louisa woke up sometime in the middle of the night. The air in the cabin was close and warm; the darkness almost impenetrable. She threw off the covers, lying there in her linen shift. Agnes was sound asleep, obviously feeling better. Louisa wondered if the girl had reached puberty yet. Most girls did by the age of fifteen, but Agnes was small for her age and might have been underfed her whole life. Lack of proper nutrition would forestall the onset of puberty.
The reason Louisa was wondering was because she needed some practical advice. Her period began a few days ago, and she had already gone through her stash of tampons. She had only two left, and needed something to use in their place. She supposed women used some kind of rags, but she didn’t have any, and had no idea what would hold them in place if she did.
Louisa had been forced to part with her bra and panties once Agnes moved in. The girl went through all her things and washed her undergarments as needed. It wouldn’t do for her to see these items. Louisa didn’t mind going braless, as much as she minded the lack of underwear. She felt strangely exposed despite the petticoat and long skirt, and kept pressing her legs together, conscious of her nakedness. She supposed she would have to get used to that, among other things; like not washing on a regular basis. The sailors provided some seawater upon request to wash with, but it made Louisa’s hair feel coarse and brittle. What she wouldn’t give for a hot shower and some good conditioner. A cappuccino wouldn’t hurt either. She hadn’t had a cup of coffee since her last morning in 2012, and she longed for caffeine.
The fare on the ship was horrible. Cook usually gave them biscuits and ale for breakfast, some kind of salt meat and bread for lunch, and a stew of some sort for dinner. The captain occasionally got a chop or a roasted chicken, which he frequently offered to share with Louisa, to the chagrin of the other passengers. She didn’t want to encourage the captain’s attentions, but at this point, she would do almost anything for a piece of chicken and a vegetable. She would probably have kissed him for a piece of fruit.
Agnes moaned in her sleep and turned over, facing the wall. The light outside the porthole was beginning to change from inky blue to a misty gray, signaling the arrival of a new day. So far, the weather had been lovely, with a brisk wind that carried them at a good speed. The captain was pleased with their progress, hoping to make it to the West Indies within a few weeks. They would resupply the ship, and take on fresh water, before continuing on to Virginia.
Louisa waited until the milky light reached all the corners of the cabin, and pulled out Christopher Sheridan’s book. It was a collection of sonnets, some of which she recognized. She was almost finished with it, but after last night, she was a little embarrassed to go ask him for another book. Louisa flipped through the leather-bound volume looking for her place, when a folded sheet of paper fell out onto her lap. Louisa picked it up and turned it over in her hand. It was bad manners to read other people’s private correspondence, but she was curious about this man, and if it was that private he most likely would have removed it from the book. He probably just forgot about it, in which case, she would read it and put it right back. Louisa unfolded the letter. It was written in an elegant hand, the ink slightly faded.
London
October 2, 1617
My dearest Kit,
No mere words can convey how much I miss you and long for your return. Your mother has been very kind to me, introducing me to London society, and securing an invitation to Court for the Christmas festivities. I am
a little intimidated by the prospect of meeting King James, but I know you would want me to go, so I will put on a brave face and make you proud. Sometimes I sorely miss the peace and quiet of the country, but London is full of diversions, and I am doing my best to enjoy them all.
There seems to be a rumor going around that Thomas Edmondes is being recalled to England from his post as the Ambassador to France. Does this mean you will be coming home soon, my love? I hope and pray to see your face again before the end of the year.
Your loving wife,
Helena Sheridan
Louisa refolded the letter and slipped it between the pages of the book. She felt a crushing disappointment at finding out that Christopher Sheridan had a wife. Technically, he hadn’t done anything wrong, but she felt angry with him. Why was he being nice to her if he had a loving woman waiting for him back home? Of course, he was probably lonely being away from home for months on end, but still.
She had been a gullible fool to think that he was interested in her. He probably was interested, but not in the way she thought. That comment he made about her visiting his cabin, was probably designed to feel her out and see if she would be willing to visit it while he was there; ready and willing. Louisa threw the book onto the crumpled bedding and stood up, needing to go somewhere. She quickly realized that, in fact, there was absolutely nowhere to go. The cabin felt like a cage, and she sat back down, frustrated and angry.
Louisa was just beginning to calm down when Agnes sat bolt upright on her berth. The girl looked around in a panic, grabbing for the bucket just in time to retch into it. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, a guilty look on her face.
“Are you all right, Agnes? Do you want some water?” The girl accepted a cup of water and drank it down in one gulp.
A Leap of Faith (The Hands of Time: Book 2) Page 6