by Jody Hedlund
Lewis stared back for a long moment before finally shaking his head. “There’s no talking any sense into you, Newton. You’re a stubborn man.”
“What? Now you’re my father?” Newton tipped up the rum and took a long swig that blessedly burned his throat down to his stomach.
“I’m just saying—”
“Well, stop. I already have one father. I don’t need another.” Newton guzzled the last drops and let the warmth seep into his blood.
December 1744
“I’ve had the settee reupholstered in an emerald green with a floral print,” Susanna said as she followed Polly through the entry at the back of the house.
“It sounds lovely.” Polly descended several steps into a hallway that led to the lower service rooms, including the kitchen, back kitchen, larder, and pantry. The steam emanating from the back kitchen told Polly that at midafternoon their servant was still washing laundry. The once-a-month task was an all-day affair, including collecting water from the rainwater butts and well, heating the water in a copper tank, and then scrubbing the linens on large corrugated boards inside tubs. The washing was followed by wringing water out of the larger and heavier items in a mangle. Then came the neck-aching task of hanging all of the damp items from the drying racks suspended from the ceilings.
Without the help of the servants who were dismissed when Father changed positions, Mother often assigned Polly to help with the task, but in recent months Mother had given Eliza the job. Mother wanted them both to learn all the work that was involved in running and managing a home. At least that’s how Polly had consoled herself whenever she soaked her lye-reddened hands in lady’s mantle at the end of a wash day. Such small tales held her guilt at bay.
“I’m having the tapestries made to match,” Susanna continued, clomping down the steps and following Polly to the kitchen door. “Since Daniel loves the color gold, I’ve decided to have the tassels and ruffles made in a gold damask.” Polly doubted that Susanna would ever have to help her servants do laundry. Daniel Eversfield was working for his father, a wealthy London banker, and apparently was able to give Susanna everything she wanted. After their wedding that summer, Susanna had moved into her very own home, a newly built four-storied terrace.
“I vow, I can’t wait until Mother allows me to ride to London and see your home,” Polly said, as she crossed to the large table at the center of the room and deposited the two heavy baskets she’d brought back from the market. Polly tried to douse another flicker of envy at the thought of Susanna’s life. Since Susanna’s arrival yesterday, it seemed she’d been fighting a losing battle. Even if she was still young, she couldn’t keep from wishing she could have marriage and a home of her own too.
“Perhaps I will have to sneak back to London in one of your trunks.” Polly tried to lighten the mood for both their sakes. “I’ll stay until you tire of me, and then you can ship me back.”
Susanna placed her basket next to Polly’s and began to lift out their purchases: tallow candles, butter, cheese, milk, treacle, and barley flour.
“Just maybe I won’t ship you back,” Susanna said. A strange note in the young woman’s voice caught at Polly.
Polly didn’t say anything for a moment and instead studied her aunt’s face. “Are you happy, Susanna?”
Susanna nodded and gave a short laugh. “Of course I’m happy. Daniel is spoiling me.” Susanna reached for another package from her basket, this one a leg of mutton, and her fingers trembled.
Polly wanted to probe deeper, but she’d already given Susanna a chance to share. Maybe Susanna was still adjusting to her new life. Perhaps marriage brought more worries and responsibilities than Susanna had realized. Perhaps Susanna missed her secret activities; after all, she’d bemoaned the fact that as a married woman she would need to settle down. Polly couldn’t help but think back to two years ago, to the winter day very much like this one when Susanna had tricked her into aiding an abolitionist rescue under the guise of wassailing. It was the day she met John for the first time, the day he came along to their rescue and saved them from certain trouble.
She hadn’t seen him in months, since the day she’d walked away from the gaol. In fact, she didn’t know if he was still alive. Her father had tried to shield her from news of the war, but she’d pried every piece of information she could out of Billy and had learned there had been several skirmishes with the French during the fall. Now that winter was settling in, most of the ships would find safe harbors where they could wait out the storms. The war would be put on hold until spring.
All she’d been able to do was pray John was safe. She’d prayed until she’d worn out the carpet next to her bed. And even though at times her prayers brought her comfort, she was often left strangely empty, as though somehow she still needed to try harder before God would hear her.
“There you are,” Jack called from the kitchen door. He’d grown taller over the fall away at school, looking more and more like their father. She was relieved that Jack had been able to continue with his education in spite of Father’s pay cut. What did it matter that her own dreams of school wouldn’t materialize? Her father was alive, and Jack was still able to better himself. At least that’s what she tried to tell herself every time she thought about all her friends who had left.
Jack’s grin filled his thin face, and his eyes were bright with unusual mischief. He and Susanna had arrived together yesterday in time for Christmas festivities.
Susanna had explained her appearance without her new husband by telling them that Daniel was too busy to travel. Polly had been too excited at the time to question Susanna’s excuse. But perhaps Daniel’s absence accounted for Susanna’s strange mood.
“You’re bored already without me around to keep things lively?” Susanna smiled at Jack.
“Not quite,” Jack replied mysteriously. “But I have been waiting for your return. Come up and join me for a game of whist.”
“Card playing in the middle of the afternoon?” Polly asked. “Surely Mother has more work for us—”
“Mother said we’ve done enough for the day and now must enjoy ourselves.”
That was all the invitation Susanna needed to put aside any thought of work. She tossed her coat and scarf onto the table for the servant to hang up and rushed after Jack. Polly couldn’t begrudge either one a bit of merriment, but she finished unpacking the baskets and putting away the goods in the pantry and larder.
With Susanna’s coat in hand, she peered in the back kitchen and noted that Eliza was no longer helping the servant with the laundering. Apparently Mother had dismissed her from work as well. Polly offered her assistance, but the servant waved her along.
Polly started up the steps that would lead to the main floor but stopped halfway up at the loud laughter and voices coming from the morning room.
“The poor sailor didn’t know what had happened to him,” came a voice filled with humor.
Polly sucked in a breath, and the world came to a crashing halt. Was it John?
“All he knew was that he was hanging head down from the main topsail yard, swinging in the wind like a flag.” More laughter followed.
It was John. Polly’s heartbeat pulsed forward at a dangerous speed trying to keep up with her feet as she raced up the stairs and down the hallway.
John was alive. He was here. She was suddenly frantic to see him, to know that he was safe and unharmed.
She skidded to a stop just outside the morning-room door and forced herself to take a deep breath, count to three, and then calmly make her appearance. Her gaze found him at once, at the table, flanked by Jack reclining in a chair on one side and Susanna on the other. Eliza and the younger children hovered near Mother, who was sitting in a chair by the hearth, mending in hand, but smiling at John’s story.
All heads turned her direction, all except John, who continued to look at the cards he was holding in his hand. The sight of him made her heart careen like an out-of-control coach on a bumpy road. His hair was tied
back in a queue, which was longer than the last time she’d seen him. His features were browned from the sun and leaner, somehow stronger and more defined, as if he’d shed the last vestiges of his boyhood form and had finally become a full-grown man. The power of his presence was unmistakable, almost daunting. But it was also magnetic, not just for her but clearly for everyone else in the room.
She waited for him to look up, for his eyes to spark to life at the sight of her. She readied a smile, and when he glanced up, for the briefest second, his eyes filled with unmistakable thrill. But as he and Jack rose from their chairs, his enthusiasm disappeared and was replaced with nonchalance. “It’s nice to see you again, Cousin.”
Nice? For a moment she was taken aback by his greeting. But she supposed he couldn’t very well admit much more than that with her mother sitting nearby. “I’m glad to see you too.”
After she took a spot near the table, he and Jack sat back down and returned their attention to their cards. He launched into another one of his shipboard stories and soon had everyone laughing again.
Polly was tempted to walk over to him, shake him by the shoulders, and demand that he speak with her. In fact, she wanted to drag him away from the others and have him all to herself. But even as she watched the card game, she could feel her mother’s eyes upon her, surveying her reaction to John warily.
Part of her was surprised her mother had allowed John to come into their home after the tense parting they’d had last time. Clearly Mother was too polite to refuse him hospitality. But Polly had the feeling that if John showed any romantic interest in her, Mother would insist that he be on his way before the day’s end. She might send him away anyway. But the least Polly could do was attempt to maintain an appropriate distance. Then they could be together. Something—even simple friendship—was better than nothing.
As the afternoon turned into evening, Polly did her best to temper her eagerness, tried not to stare at him, and kept her distance knowing her mother was carefully monitoring her and John. She had no doubt her father would also expel John if he hinted at impropriety, and she didn’t want to chance it. Still she couldn’t keep her heart from racing faster every time he spoke or whenever she glanced at him.
Even though she longed for a moment alone with him, she contented herself with the brief friendly interactions he offered her. When her father saw John after coming home from work, his expression turned stern, almost grave, and she worried that he might ask John to leave. But as the evening wore on, her father seemed to relax, especially when he learned that John was on leave for only a few days.
It wasn’t until the following morning, as they walked home from the service at St. Margaret’s Church, that she finally had a moment of privacy with John. Her father and mother and little George had gone ahead in the gig. Eliza walked at the forefront of their party with her younger sisters. She and Susanna followed with Jack and John not far behind.
“Jack, come here a moment,” Susanna said over her shoulder. “I need to speak with you about a matter of the utmost importance.” She slowed her stride, and as she did so, she winked at Polly.
Jack hesitated. Polly had no doubt Father had instructed Jack not to leave John’s side, not even for an instant. She suspected Mother had given Susanna the same command, that she was to chaperone Polly at all times and never allow her to be alone with John. But Susanna looped her arm through Jack’s and dragged him forward, giving him little choice but to allow Polly a moment with John.
“Thank the stars for Susanna,” John muttered, his lips quirking into a crooked grin. “I didn’t know how I was going to live another moment without speaking with you.”
At his declaration, Polly’s stomach flipped. She focused her attention on her boots and kicked at the damp leaves that covered the road. Although the first day of winter was upon them and the sky was overcast, the temperature wasn’t unbearable. In fact, the air wasn’t even cold enough to nip her nose.
“We’ve spoken some already,” she said.
“And I’ve been on my best behavior. I’ve been treating you like a sister, the way your father expects me to.”
“You’ve done a fine job of it.”
His voice dropped. “Aye, and it’s nigh killed me.”
She didn’t want to admit the relief his words brought her. She’d been afraid his distance meant he didn’t have the same affection for her anymore. Although her heart warred with her and told her it shouldn’t matter, the thought had crossed her mind that perhaps he fancied another woman now.
“But I figured the only way your parents would let me visit is if I’m on my very best behavior.” His footsteps lagged, and she had to slow hers to stay by his side.
“Heaven help me, Polly,” his voice turned hoarse to almost a whisper. “I’ve gone crazy missing you.”
Something in his tone made her body feel as though she were sitting too close to the coal fire. “I worried about you. I didn’t know if you were dead or alive.”
“Then you’re happy to see me?”
“Can’t you tell?”
“Say it, Polly.”
She peeked ahead to make sure Susanna still had Jack’s attention before she looked at John. The warm passion in his eyes was so different from the casual friendliness he’d shown her since he’d arrived. “I missed you,” she whispered.
His shoulder brushed hers lightly. “Say it again.”
“I missed you, John. And I wish you didn’t have to leave.”
His gaze caressed her face with such intimacy that her breath snagged in her chest. “Mayhap I won’t go.”
She smiled. “And risk getting in trouble for deserting?”
“It would be worth it.” The low intimacy of his voice was making her insides curl. She could understand why her father was concerned about her relationship with John. There was something about him that was difficult to resist, an attraction, a deep pull that swept her along like an unstoppable current. “Although I honestly don’t know how much longer I can go on with this charade.”
“What charade?”
“Pretending to be your brother when you mean so much more to me than a sister.”
Once again she couldn’t look him in the eyes. His insinuation was so intimate that she had the feeling that if they’d been alone he would have kissed her. It had been months since their kiss in the drawing room, months of dreaming about the feel and taste of his lips.
Ahead on the path, Jack glanced at them, his eyes full of suspicion.
She ducked her head. “We have to be careful. I want my father to approve of you.”
“Aye, good that. I want him to approve of me too.”
“Then we agree to keep things as they’ve been so that he has no reason to think ill of you?”
“I suppose that means I can’t ask you to sneak out of your room tonight and meet me in the stable?”
His scandalous request nearly made her stumble. “John,” she softly chastised.
He chuckled. “I’m jesting.”
She smiled in return, but the spark in his eyes told her that he wasn’t entirely joking, and that thought made her insides burn again. “Please, John,” she pleaded. “You must behave or Father will ask you to go.”
She didn’t have the heart to tell him all that her father had already said regarding his concerns over John’s character.
“Don’t worry,” he said rather too cheerfully. “I may be a bad boy sometimes. But I know how to be good when I need to be.”
Over the next few days, John kept his word. His behavior toward her was above reproach. On a couple of occasions that she’d noticed a slow smolder of desire in his eyes when he looked at her, he’d excused himself to take a walk. On both occasions when he’d returned a few hours later, he’d smelled of tobacco and rum. But he’d been considerably lighter in mood and able to renew his friendly stance with her.
“When does your leave end?” she heard her father ask John as the two sat in his study a week after his arrival. She hovered
in the hallway outside the door. Eavesdropping was wrong and she needed to move away, but she was unable to force herself. Her mother and Susanna were in the drawing room talking and the younger children had already gone up to their rooms to ready themselves for bed. She should as well, but she was anxious to know John’s plans, to know how much longer she had with him before another impossibly long separation.
John didn’t answer, and the silence stretched uncomfortably.
“Am I to assume that you overextended your leave?” her father asked, and Polly was surprised by the sadness in his tone.
“I’m sure the captain won’t mind,” John finally replied. “He’s probably off visiting family and friends himself.”
“Exactly how long were you given?”
Polly’s muscles tightened as she waited for John’s reply. She suspected more was at stake here than just John’s shipboard position.
“It’s nothing to worry about—” John started.
“I’ve been honest with you,” Father interrupted, “and I expect the same in turn.”
Again John was silent, and in the interim Polly’s heartbeat seemed to echo too loudly in the hallway.
“I had one day,” John’s voice was laced with defeat.
One day? And how long had he been there? At least seven? If not eight? Polly closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the wall.
“John,” her father said. The one word was filled with both sorrow and finality.
“They took me without asking.” John’s tone turned defiant. “They don’t deserve my loyalty.”
“If you end up swinging from the end of a rope, you know what will happen, don’t you?” Her father’s whisper was harsher than she’d ever heard. “She’ll blame herself. Is that what you want for her?”
“Nay.”
“Then go back and do your duty whether you want to or not.”