What was she saying? This was not at all what she had planned. Why did she suddenly feel defensive about a land she had no desire to see?
“Well, as far as Captain Brentwood is concerned, Mother says he has a reputation with women. She says that having you on his ship is as good as …”
“Captain Brentwood has been a perfect gentleman in my presence,” Emily snapped. Her cheeks flushed as she recalled his silken voice in the garden and the feel of his strong, firm arm around her shoulders. Michael misread her blush for anger, which was partly true.
“Do not be angry, Emily. I just do not want to see your reputation sullied.”
“It is good of you to be so concerned,” she retorted.
What was wrong with her? She was ruining her opportunity to stay in England. Yet, as she studied Michael, doubt slowly spread through her. She imagined passing the years as his wife. It would be safe and comfortable, but certainly not exciting. They would live in London and have children. And Mother Dennings would visit on Sundays and expound on her pet theories. Or worse, perhaps she would live with them and subject them to daily sermons. And the years would run together, much as Michael’s appearance.
Michael had been speaking again, and his last sentence brought Emily back with a start.
“Emily, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” He was on one knee in front of her.
“Am I interrupting anything?” Jonathon’s clear baritone rang through the room causing Michael to jump to his feet, and startling Emily as much as Michael’s proposal had.
“Captain Brentwood,” Emily breathed feeling strangely relieved, “do come in.”
Michael shot Emily a bemused look. Jonathon strode in and seated himself on the settee beside her. His eyes sparkled when he looked at her, and he took her hand in his own and patted it in a fatherly gesture. She slipped it away.
“Captain Brentwood, may I present Michael Dennings. Michael, this is Captain Jonathon Brentwood.” Emily glanced at Michael noting his sour expression. Jonathon extended his hand, which Michael reluctantly shook. The two men sized each other up.
“Well, Captain Brentwood, when do you plan to set sail for Virginia?” Michael finally asked.
“I have some legal matters to which I must attend, and some supplies to order and load. I imagine we shall set sail in a fortnight,” he stressed the word “we” while looking at Emily. Unable to meet the gaze of either man, she looked down at her hands folded in her lap.
Michael shifted uncomfortably wondering why Emily had invited Captain Brentwood in at such an inopportune moment.
“I imagine you are anxious to get home to see your family and … uh … dear ones.” Michael emphasized the latter cynically.
Jonathon leaned back casually stretching long, lean legs out in front of him.
“Yes, I am anxious to see my sister and her husband. As for the rest of my family, they will be with me on the ship.”
Michael glowered at him.
“I think not, Captain Brentwood. I have just asked Emily for her hand in marriage. She will remain in England, where she belongs.” He breathed the last decisively.
“No, Michael,” Emily whispered. If she had shouted it, the impact could not have been greater. Michael’s head whipped sharply back to her; his mouth gaped open. Jonathon searched her eyes. “You are a dear friend, Michael,” she continued, “but it would be wrong for both of us if we were to marry.”
Michael rose in bewilderment. He looked from one to the other.
“You are responsible for this,” he shouted at Jonathon’s composed face. He turned to her, “Emily, please reconsider.”
“No, Michael. I am sorry,” she spoke gently.
Michael shot a baleful glare at Jonathon, then turned on his heel and left. Jonathon looked down at Emily, but she could not meet his gaze. Her head was whirling with the events of the last few minutes. Michael had offered her exactly what she wanted, a chance to remain in England, but she knew it was not right for her. The idea of sailing into an unknown life with the man seated next to her was, somehow, appealing.
“It is just as well,” Jonathon teased. “I would not have approved the engagement in any event.”
“You arrogant cad,” Emily seethed. “How dare you assume what you can and cannot do concerning any matters in my personal life?”
“But you forget, Emily, I am your guardian. Your safety, your health, your happiness are all a precious burden that I will happily carry.”
“Who do you think you are that you can presume so much? My happiness will never be dependent on you! I think it is best that you leave at once!”
“Oh, I cannot leave, Em. I am staying for supper.”
“You are what? How — ?”
“Andrew invited me. He, at least, has some manners.” He hid a smile.
“And I do not, I suppose?” Emily rose from the settee placing a hand on each hip. Her blue eyes had darkened to violet with her anger, and a blush heightened in her cheeks. Her jaw was set, and her full soft lips clamped into a firm line.
Jonathon replied easily, “Well, he did have the courtesy to ask a new member of the family to supper. After all, if we are to spend weeks together in the close quarters of a ship, I would deem it necessary to become better acquainted. I am sure that by the end of the voyage we shall know each other very well,” he smiled wickedly. “But things will go much more smoothly en route if we develop a closer relationship now.”
“I have no intention of developing anything with you, Captain Brentwood. And as for the family, I consider all of this to be a totally unnecessary, legalistic mix-up and nothing more. If I never get to know you better, it will be fine with me. Mrs. Dennings was right; you are a rake. Why, you probably have a woman in every harbor. I should have accepted Michael’s proposal. He knows how to treat a lady with decency and respect.”
“And now you are without the benefit of Mother Dennings’ exhortations, too. You’ve told me of her strong opinions and disdain for anything not of England. Oh, I can picture all of you gathered ‘round the cozy hearth listening to her prattle on about the immorality of the savage colonies and their provincialism,” he laughed. “No, Em. No such life for you. You have too much spirit, too much drive for what Michael Dennings and his mother could offer.”
Emily was startled at how his remarks mirrored her thoughts of just minutes earlier. Could he read her mind?
“And I suppose you could offer so much more? Tell me, sir, would traipsing off to some backward land with you be so much better? Will you then find me a suitable mate who will offer me all I deserve? Hah! You will probably deny me any suitable young gentleman who is courteous and kind. You will keep me a spinster. To what end, sir? What game do you play?” She had paced across the room during her tirade, unaware of admiring eyes that followed her graceful gait.
“Aye, Em, I could offer you more than your Mr. Dennings. I could show you places of such beauty and wonder as to take your breath away. Mountains that soar up and kiss the floor of heaven. Lush forests that stretch as far as the eye can see, full of trees so big that two men with arms outstretched would be hard pressed to span the diameter and touch their fingertips end to end. Our ‘backward’ land, as you call it, has cities with shops to rival London’s. What is more, we judge a man, not by what his ancestors were, but by what he can wrest out of life and shape into his own. A man can build his worth from nothing; he can become wealthy, influential, anything he wants, on his own merit, not someone else’s. It is a rich land, Em, full of promise for people with spirit. People like you and Andrew who draw strength from an inner reserve. Come with me because you want to, Em. See for yourself what Virginia is like. I believe one day you will love it as I do.” Jonathon’s eyes were shining as he spoke passionately of his land. Emily felt sudden warmth for him. But he was asking so much.
“
I cannot say that I want to go, Captain Brentwood, but I have no choice in any event,” Emily sighed.
Jonathon saw the confusion in her eyes. She seemed to look deeply into the realm of possibilities before her, and complicating it all was the still-fresh grief for her father. He began to realize his own growing hope that she would indeed want to go with him. He understood her pain and the enormity of her decision, for he knew it must be her decision. He tried to lighten her mood.
“Emily, must you be so formal? Please call me Jonathon.”
Andrew burst into the room. “I have been down to the wharves, Jonathon. Everything is progressing smoothly. What a beautiful ship the Destiny is! Mr. Gates sends word that the mizzenmast is repaired and we should sail on schedule,” his eyes danced with excitement.
Jonathon grimaced. They had run into a pirate ship far north of the Barbary Coast, and the Destiny had sustained considerable damage. But the pirate ship had suffered her wrath and limped off the worse for wear. Jonathon would have pursued her had he not been on his way to England at the behest of George Wentworth’s will. He hoped their crossing to Virginia would be without incident.
“That is good news, Andrew,” he replied.
Emily noticed his concern. “Did you encounter trouble, Captain?”
“Nothing we could not handle,” he grinned.
Supper was announced, and Jonathon offered his arm to Emily. She could think of no reason to refuse without appearing rude, so she tucked her hand through the crook of his arm. She felt the firm muscles of his forearm through the fabric of his sleeve. She glanced sideways at his strong profile with its aquiline nose and square jaw. He caught her glance and winked at her. She quickly looked away. Why did he disturb her so?
Discussion at the table was lively with Andrew firing a myriad of questions at Jonathon about Virginia. His excitement was apparent, and he was anxious to set sail. Jonathon answered his questions patiently, laughing at his enthusiasm.
“I wish your sister was as eager about this voyage as you are,” he laughed gently, glancing at Emily. She had enjoyed listening to his tales of the colonies, but had remained silent for the most part. Now she raised her eyebrows at Jonathon.
“Captain Brentwood, I am leaving everything I know and love. Allow me my reluctance, sir.”
“But, Emily, have you not been listening to Jonathon? It sounds like paradise over in Virginia. Can we set sail earlier?” Andrew’s eyes shone.
“No, Andrew,” Jonathon laughed, “I need time to ready my ship. And to convince your sister that she really does want to come.”
“You have a difficult task ahead of you, Captain Brentwood,” she replied. Andrew chuckled at her proper form of address.
• • •
Emily watched in the mirror as Mary brushed out her hair. She had to admit that the evening had passed pleasantly enough in Captain Brentwood’s company. He had piqued her curiosity with the tales of his homeland. And he was even more handsome, if possible, when he was caught up in stories about Virginia as his eyes sparkled and his smile showed straight, white teeth against skin bronzed by the sun and the sea.
Emily climbed between the lavender-scented sheets and closed her eyes. It had been a trying day. Michael’s proposal had been her goal on rising this morning, but the day had not gone at all as she had planned. None of her plans were working out lately. It was as if someone were interfering with her destiny … Destiny. She slipped off to sleep.
• • •
Jonathon had stopped off at the Golden Pheasant Inn and sat in the corner table of the common room drinking his ale. He needed time to think before returning to his ship. It had been an enjoyable evening. Andrew was an enthusiastic as well as knowledgeable boy. George Wentworth had hoped Andrew would follow in his footsteps when his education was completed. He was already well versed in the ways of sailing, and seemed to have the natural talent of his father.
Emily was an enigma. She vocalized clearly her reluctance to sail to America, yet her eyes had glowed as she listened to his stories, leaning forward, chin resting in her hand, concentrating on every word, then catching herself, sitting up primly, feigning indifference. He caught her lost in thought once and wondered if she were reconsidering Michael Denning’s proposal. He thought not. Searching her eyes today he had seen only firm resolution. No, Michael Dennings was not the man for Emily Wentworth.
“’Scuse me, Captain Brentwood, can I git ya another ale?” A plump, pretty girl was smiling down at him. Millie leaned forward to take his empty tankard revealing much of her ample bosom. “Can I git ya anything else, Love?” she asked invitingly. Jonathon had been at sea a long time, and normally this invitation might not have been unwelcome. But his mind was preoccupied with his new station in life — that of a guardian.
“Not tonight, Millie,” he replied. He watched the girl turn and sway her hips provocatively, no doubt in the hopes he would change his mind.
Jonathon rose and went out into the night. Settling George’s estate and readying the ship for departure were enough to busy a man. But the problem of what to do with Emily taxed his mind the most.
Chapter 2
Emily pressed back into the deep, blue velvet cushioned seat of the coach. Her throat ached with tightness as she fought off another spell of sobbing and recalled the events of the morning.
Saying good-bye to the loyal household servants she had known all of her life had been difficult enough, but as she turned to Etta, she had broken down uncontrollably. Etta had been like a second mother to her. Ever since her mother’s death, Emily had turned to her beloved housekeeper for advice, consolation and care. So many people were being snatched from her life, but Etta was the dearest next to her brother and father, now gone. She had clung to Etta while the older woman stroked her hair.
“There, there, darlin’. It will all work out for the best.” Tears streamed down Etta’s face, too. She had no say in this matter, and she had to trust that George Wentworth had only the best in mind for his precious children. She instinctively liked Captain Brentwood and was not blind to the effect he had on Emily. In any event, she was powerless to prevent Emily and Andrew from being taken to the colonies. She loved them like her own, and her heart was breaking just as Emily’s was. But she had been instructed to stay in England and care for the Wentworths’ house and staff. She hugged Emily to herself for the last time.
“This is not good-bye forever, missy. We will be together again,” Etta whispered as she pressed her lips against Emily’s hair and then let her go.
“Good-bye, Etta,” the girl choked out before she ran to the waiting coach. Andrew followed her out, also visibly moved by the farewells. He climbed in across from her. Neither spoke as the driver climbed into his high seat rocking the carriage as his weight shifted. Andrew glanced at Emily and, as one, their heads turned for a last look at the only home they had ever known. The driver slapped the reins and the coach crawled down the road.
A misty drizzle shrouded the silent carriage, and leaden clouds hung low in the gray sky. Puddles parted before the lumbering wheels, and then flowed back together after the coach passed, unmindful of the disturbance. The streets were empty on this early morning, the scene matching the somber mood of the lovely girl who stared, unseeing, at the dismal town.
A contrasting energy pervaded the atmosphere at the waterfront. Men scurried about loading cargo, yelling orders, climbing up and down the gangplank, the rigging and the decks as they readied the ship and made last–minute preparations for the journey.
Emily gazed out at the ship that would take her away from everything she knew, her secure, familiar world. The Destiny, a three-masted merchant ship, carried twelve guns. Windows lined the raised quarterdeck and the bowsprit sloped gracefully up from the forecastle. Fully loaded with cargo and provisions, she sat low in the water. Emily was impressed with the ship’s beauty and the efficienc
y of her crew, but she felt detached from it all, like an observer who would be totally unaffected by what was happening.
She noticed a familiar coach waiting by the gangplank, Michael Dennings’ coach. She leaned back and closed her eyes, drained, unable to face him. Her coach halted a few steps away and rocked as the driver descended. He opened the door and pulled down the steps to allow them to alight from the carriage. Michael was there at once offering his hand up to Emily, a look of grim determination on his face. Emily sighed, took his hand, and descended. He looked down at her.
“Emily, I must protest. You cannot board that ship.”
“Can I not, Michael?” she asked, feeling defeated and very tired.
“No! I insist that you come back with me right now. I repeat my offer of marriage. This is terribly wrong, and you know it.”
Emily caught a movement above Michael’s shoulder and, looking up, saw Jonathon leaning on the ship’s rail. Dressed in a deep green coat, crisp white cravat and tan breeches, he looked the part of a sea captain — at ease on the ship, yet obviously in command. His thick hair was tousled in the wind that swept across the water. She saw white teeth flash in a smile at her, and she could not deny the fluttering sensation in her stomach or the sudden weakness in her knees. Nonetheless, she raised her chin and affected an air of indifference. A strange excitement tickled within her as she sensed her resistance to this voyage waning.
She looked at Michael. “Perhaps this is not as wrong for me as you might think, Michael. I would not be a wife content to live under the domineering rule of your mother. We would both suffer were we to wed, for you would find me rebellious and strong-willed,” she paused glancing up at the still-smiling Jonathon, “much as the colonies to which I sail. Perhaps I am better suited to them than to London. You will always be my dear friend. Good-bye, Michael.” Rising on her toes, she placed a kiss on his cheek. Head held high, she turned and climbed the gangplank.
“Emily, please — ” Michael called after her, but she did not turn back. She heard the coach door slam and the wheels start down the cobbled street. She continued up to the ship. She had burned her bridges and was on her way to a new world.
Time After Time Page 47