Stopping in the streaming moonlight, Bella looked to see where the path had brought her. On the edge of the wood, adjacent to a clearing, she could just see the harbor and the Seventh Sea ships docked there, on the horizon. Several important guests from London were housed on one of Lord Holsworthy’s merchantman, including the Prince of Wales and Princess Amelia and their retinues, Lord and Lady Pinnester, and several of Lord Holsworthy’s other investors. The royals had traveled to the wedding on the Amelia’s maiden voyage, but would return to London on the fleet ship, for the new flagship would leave with the bride and groom on the morrow, directly after the wedding breakfast. In less than a day, Bella would leave England, probably for good.
As she took up her skirt to begin her walk again, Jasper stepped out from behind a tree. She stopped short and stepped back.
“I was hopin’ I might come across you, lassie, before you take to the high seas with your new lord and master.”
She flinched when Jeremy stepped out from the other direction.
She turned as though she would run, and John was behind her. Her hands rose to guard her face, and she tried to turn away from all of them.
“Please let me be. Uncle Howard said you wouldn’t be—”
“Skip me own daughter’s wedding? Not on your life, Miss.”
She tried to sound like Charlotte when she said, “Lord Holsworthy will be sorely displeased if you harm me.”
“Still belong to me until the vows are said, and I would have you remember to put your family’s interests first in years to come.” His hand shot out, snake-like, to slam into her chest, throwing her backward into Jeremy, who grabbed her arms.
She would have sobbed, but the wind was knocked from her lungs.
“Will come a time,” her father continued, “Holsworthy will get a letter from me, and whatever it says, I’ll expect you to support my claim. Are we clear on that, Lady-Bloody-Holsworthy?” His blows to her chest and shoulders were timed with the rhythm of his tirade.
She nodded and squeaked, “Yes, Papa.”
Jeremy leaned in close to her ear and said, “You can sail ten times the world over to get away, but don’t forget you are leaving the people you love back here in England. Do not think I will not stoop to do harm to our lovely cousin should you not comply, for the Firthleys and I still have a score to settle.”
Jasper motioned to John. “Do you not wish to give your sister something to remember you by?”
John shrugged, but didn’t come closer.
“Such a molly you are, boy!” Jasper took a sharp jab directly atop the first bruise, between her breasts, knocking her wind away again.
John stepped between her and Jasper, and said, “I will give her something to remember me by.” He turned and gave her a kiss on the cheek and a rough hug, murmuring in her ear, “I wish you happy, Sissy. You can’t know how much.” He turned back around, his arm draped over her shoulder.
“Leave off, you two. Holsworthy’s bought her on paper, so it is his merchandise you are damaging. Do you think a sharp cit is going to pay as much for broken stock, when he hasn’t already delivered the coin? Go to the taproom and drink yourselves stupid, and I’ll take Sissy back to her room.”
Inexplicably, the other men complied, with only one last shove from her father and a last threat from Jeremy: “You’d better hope Holsworthy’s solicitor pays promptly.”
Both men were well on their way back to the inn before John took one step from the clearing, the two youngest Smithsons silently staring after their elders. When they were finally out of sight, John stuck out his arm in a courtly gesture. Bella’s hand inched up to curl around his elbow.
As was his way, John tried to keep the conversation light and soothing, though Bella knew the lilt in his voice was hard-won. “This will be my last chance to offer you advice, as your elder, wiser brother, and so you must take heed of all I say.”
Bella smiled and glanced up at him. “And why should I wish to leave you with a false idea of your influence?” She poked him in the side to give the tease to her words, and he smirked back at her, but his eyes were not at all humorous.
“You will do well to listen, sweeting. You are boarding a ship filled with sailors, Sissy, and while I can’t stop it, I can’t think it wise. Just recall, if you will, what I taught you in the barn in Evercreech, the night before your first trip to London. Any man makes improper advances, you plant your knee in his cods without delay.”
“John!”
“Promise me.”
She sighed, but agreed, “Yes, John. I promise. I’m sure Lord Holsworthy would wish it.’
After a few moments of tense silence between them, she added, ‘I beg you give that same lesson to Angel Bairstowe, before she finds herself alone in a room with Jeremy.’
John gave her a half-grin and waved off her concern. ‘He loves her, Sissy. He’ll not lay a finger on her. If Miss Bairstowe marries him, she will be the most pampered wife in Christendom.”
“If she marries him, her life will be as miserable as Mama’s and mine, and I am afraid of what he might do to secure her hand.”
“He’s different with her, Sissy.”
She bit her lip for the space of four steps, but finally said, “I pray you never learn to be as hard and cold as Jeremy.” A few steps later, they reached the end of the upstairs hallway. “You have to leave me here, John. Charlotte is in my room, and if she’s awake… well… it will be difficult enough to explain why I am not there.”
He nodded. “Sissy, I really do—”
She held her hand up over his mouth. “Stay out of card games and brothels and taverns and Papa’s tin mine. You are a better man than that, John. And for heaven’s sake, don’t be drawn into Jeremy’s obsession with vengeance against Charlotte, for Firthley will kill the next Smithson who poses a danger to his family, not just blood him and give him the cut direct. Father threatens you with Newgate, yet the path he asks you to walk will lead right there.”
He shrugged. “Only if we’re caught.”
“You will be caught, John, if it is the last thing Charlotte’s father and husband do. Have you any notion what lengths they will travel to protect Charlotte, and how many thief-takers their combined fortunes can buy? It cannot be long now.”
He grasped her arm firmly, but not painfully, his face blanching. “Do you know something, Sissy? Have they found something?” Suddenly, he hand convulsed, drawing a yelp from her as her own hand flew to try to claw his now-bruising fingertips away. “It was you! You told Effingale whatever you learned from listening at keyholes. Probably have Holsworthy’s money behind it, too, so he can save himself the coin he promised! It’s only waiting until you leave to ruin the rest of us.”
She didn’t confirm or deny it, only said, “Pray, confess yourself to Uncle this night and beg his counsel. He will help you, if you ask it. He knows you never asked to be Father’s accomplice.”
He looked away, refusing to look into her eyes, until, squaring his shoulders, his usually facile face stone-cold, he turned back. “I confess nothing,” he spat through gritted teeth, glaring. With a snarl, he shoved her away and growled, “I never thought you would betray me when I let you go free that night. You might have ended a drunken bawd, but for me, not been raised to the peerage and married into a fortune.” He raised the back of his hand to her, but slowly lowered it again at her flinch. “I always expected Father might send me to the gallows, if only to save his own neck, but I never thought it would be you. You’d better hope I don’t know something that will see you hanged with the rest of us.”
He strode down the hall without saying goodbye, and after he turned the corner, she took the few steps to her door and slipped inside the room.
***
The lamp on the bedside table slowly illuminated. “I’d like to think you were having a tryst with Lord Holsworthy because you have fallen in love, but I think it too much to ask. Where were you the night before your wedding?”
“I’m finally t
ired, Charlotte. Can I not just lie back down?” Bella removed and hung her cloak and the gown she had thrown on over her nightrail before she left the inn. “Should you not be in your husband’s bedchamber, not mine?”
“As though I would allow you to spend this night alone. Where did you go?”
Bella pulled back the covers on the bed and prepared to slide in next to Charlotte, but when she twisted wrong and winced, Charlotte asked, “What is it?”
Bella’s eyes slid to the side, and Charlotte sat up straighter. Her sharp eyes traveled from Bella’s messy hair to her shaking hands, to the spots of high color surely blazoning her cheeks. “They are here, aren’t they? I knew Uncle Jasper wouldn’t just leave you alone. And one of them hit you.”
Charlotte threw back the bedclothes, ready to storm the door, but Bella said, “Stop, Charlotte. You knew my father would appear with his hand out for the bride price. You all agreed to let things rest until after we sail.” Bella lowered herself to the mattress and tucked her feet underneath the quilt. “Get back in bed. Beginning tomorrow, I will be subject to no one’s will but my husband, his God, and his investors. I will be out of my father’s reach forevermore.”
Slowly, Charlotte returned to the bed, tucking her legs underneath her and leaning against the headboard. “Do you have wounds that need tending?”
Bella stretched her stiff shoulders. “No. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“You should tell Papa and Lord Holsworthy.”
“Everyone will discover the Smithsons are here in the morning, if they turn up for breakfast, and I daresay Lord Holsworthy will uncover my bruises before the ship reaches open sea. By then, it will be too late for him to return me as defective.”
“Defec—? You. Are. Not. Defective.” Charlotte hugged Bella tightly, inadvertently pressing against the new bruises until Bella hissed a breath through her teeth. Charlotte jerked back. “I’m so sorry, dearest. I wasn’t thinking.”
“You will say nothing to anyone, for I will not have my only chance to escape them cry off at the last minute. Especially when it will make my father want to take his lost funds from my hide.”
Charlotte smoothed Bella’s nightrail. “Are you not… well… you do not seem nervous. I was anxious as a cat, and so is every bride I have ever seen.”
Bella let her head fall onto her cousin’s shoulder. “I am resigned, Charlotte, and not unhappy. Lord Holsworthy is kind and thoughtful and will be a good husband. He believes I have some unfulfilled promise, which is an appealing notion, though I don’t really credit it. And he removes me entirely from my father’s sphere.” She grasped Charlotte’s hand. “You, on the other hand, will still be very much nearby. Be careful, Charlotte, and make sure Lord Firthley knows how low the Smithsons might sink. Jeremy does not drop a grudge.”
“Do not be ridiculous. I will be perfectly fine. My husband has drawn your brother’s blood once; he will tear Jeremy’s throat out should he take one step toward me, and my father and Bow Street are no longer looking the other way where the Smithsons are concerned. Soon enough, all of your male relatives will be in Newgate or hung.”
Bella dropped her face into her hands. “They cannot have believed their schemes would prosper forevermore. I have been blessed to be raised more Amberly than Smithson, but it is by God’s grace I will be married and away from here, not dragged to prison by association. Is it wrong I should feel my marriage a reprieve?”
“Not wrong! Exactly right. Lord Holsworthy is a relative unknown, to be sure, but you cannot do worse than remain under your father’s control. He is a good man, by all accounts, and he has done well by you in the settlements,” Charlotte reassured her, though Bella needed no reassurance about her course. “The worst anyone can say is he is too puritanical, but I will not feel sorry for wishing you, of all people, a husband free of vice. I have never been happier about anything than Lord Holsworthy needing a bride.”
Bella nodded. “I am… more contented than I would have expected, given the circumstance. And grateful. And while I want children with all my heart, I do not relish a return home for my confinement. I hope to never see England or any Smithson male again.”
Charlotte let out a tiny, ladylike giggle. “Do you know, we did manage the impossible. Or so my mother would say.” Bella raised a brow. “We both snared husbands before your wretched father and brothers found a way to destroy the entire family.”
Chapter Eleven
May 27, 1805
On Board the Amelia
Watching the pier grow smaller by the league, the Effingales, Firthleys, and Amberlys almost too small to see, waving, Bella stared over the side of the Amelia, the ship that was now her home, fingers curved tightly around the railing, grasping at any last semblance of balance. Beside her, Lord Holsworthy—no, Myron—placed his hand over hers, squeezing the fingers gently. Neither said a word, but when a tear rolled down her cheek, he brushed it away with his thumb, and curled a comforting arm around her shoulders. They had never stood so close together, but she hid her face in his shoulder, sobbing, “I’ll never see them again. They are my only family.”
And truly, they must be, as no Smithson had made an appearance at the wedding. Bella could blame her sudden dizziness on the rocking of the ship, but it might as easily be her sense of giddy relief. She had escaped her father, her brothers, and the mess they were about to make of things. Bella thought she had caught a glimpse of John at the docks, from the height of the bo’sun’s chair being brought up the side of the ship, but by the time she could steady herself for a good look, the man was gone.
No one had appeared to take her to Newgate, nor had her own family’s downfall played out before her eyes. The reprieve inherent in watching the coastline be swallowed up in the horizon, when crossed with the despair of leaving so many people she loved in so much danger, left her in tears.
“Ah, ah, my dear. Now, that is not true.” He chucked her under the chin, looking into her watery eyes. “As you now have me to call family, and soon a babe, should the Lord be willing.” He kissed her forehead when she nodded, quickly hiding against his sleeve once more, letting him stroke her hair the same way John had when they were both younger, before their father had pitted his children against one other as best he could.
Just as she wiped the tears away, determined to meet her future head-on, a throat was cleared behind them.
“Sir, if you would…” Captain Rafe Johnson trailed off, foot turned to run the other direction rather than interrupt feminine distress. Placing himself between the captain of the vessel and his new bride, Myron answered, “Yes, Captain?”
“Sir, I… I only meant… I mean, I wondered…”
Bella sniffled, but stepped out from behind her husband, taking up Captain Johnson’s hand, shaking it like a man might. “You must be Captain Johnson. I am so sorry we haven’t had the chance to meet until now. Lord Holsworthy has spoken most highly of you.”
Blushing beet-red in a way Bella would never have expected from a sailor, the captain bowed awkwardly over her hand, as though he were entirely unaccustomed to a lady being anywhere nearby. “My lady, I am pleased to welcome you to the Amelia. I was hoping I might show you the arrangements we’ve made for your quarters…” He looked at Myron. “But if this is an inconvenient time…”
“No, no, of course, I am delighted to see where I will be living.” Belatedly, she looked up at her husband. “I mean, if it is acceptable to you, my lord.”
He smiled down at her. “Entirely acceptable, my dear. Lead on, Captain.”
Only a few steps from their position, the half-boots she had worn, among the most practical footwear she owned, proved her first mistake. On the first step up to the quarter-deck, her heel caught and she pitched forward. Had Myron not been holding her elbow, she might have broken the fall with her face.
“You may find, my lady,” the captain said gently, after she was set aright on her feet again, “a pair of slippers will serve you better aboard ship.”
; She nodded silently, humiliation locked in her throat, vowing to dig a pair of walking shoes out of her trunk and drop the boots overboard at the earliest opportunity. Until then, she merely held on, like a barnacle, to her new husband’s arm.
In a series of brief glances, he assessed the rest of her attire, the brand-new coffee-colored velveteen traveling gown Aunt Minerva had insisted she wear, already soiled with sea spray and tar. The skirt had already been rent by proximity to whatever sharp things had existed between the carriage block and the railing of the upper deck, and a length of torn lace trailed from the sleeve. "You might find all the…" he flicked his fingers at her, "ruffles and bows a nuisance…" He trailed off. "But Your Ladyship must wear whatever suits you…"
“I assure you, I have always found ruffles and bows a nuisance, and my attire shall be rectified as soon as I find my trunks. Clearly, I must learn the way of things, and I will be grateful if you gentlemen will make it your business to correct me, should I err.” Myron smiled and squeezed the hand she had wrapped around his elbow. “I may wish to shorten my skirts a few inches to ensure I do not fall to my doom.” Sudden nerves overtook her. “I mean… I would not wish to cause you any…”
“You must do as you will to avoid your doom, my dear,” Myron assured her, kissing her hand and making her blush. “Though I will ask you keep the sensibilities of sailors in mind.”
She nodded and stifled a giggle at the sudden redness of Captain Johnson’s ears.
“On the subject of sailors, might be we should teach your wife to use a cutlass, Holsworthy.”
“Oh!” Bella exclaimed. “I could never…” Turning to Myron, she whispered, “He wouldn’t really…? I mean, he doesn’t expect…?”
Shipmate: A Royal Regard Prequel Novella Page 7