My Fallen Angel

by Pamela Britton

  Don’t yell, she thought.

  I don’t need to, his eyes snapped back.

  And he didn’t. “I’m only going to say this once, Lucinda,” he clipped in a perfectly awful voice, “so please listen.”

  Lucy bowed her head. Her nails curled into her palms. It was worse than she thought possible. Worse than she’d imagined during the whole horrible ride back to her aunt’s.

  “When we board the ship I want you to stay far away from me.”

  She flinched, almost as if his words had shot an actual dart into her heart.

  “Far away.”

  She tried to swallow, couldn’t, and settled for closing her eyes. It didn’t help.

  “Do you understand?”

  He was so close. She could practically feel the heat of his body. The urge to reach out and touch him wasnearly overwhelming. No, her heart cried out. No. I don’t understand. I love you. I will always love you.

  “And if you so much as stir from this house while I make the arrangements for our passage, I will send you back to the country.”

  She finally managed to swallow. Her eyes burned behind closed lids.

  “Do you hear me, Lucy?”

  Open your eyes, Lucy. Open them. It can’t be all that bad. Slowly, she lifted her gaze. A blurry blob that was Garrick shimmered. She blinked. Her vision cleared. A man stared back at her, a man she’d never seen before: cold, distant, uncaring.

  “Do you?” he snapped again.

  “Yes,” she mumbled through a jaw aching to control her tears.

  “Good.”

  He turned away. Don’t go, she thought. I’m sorry. So sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused you.

  When he turned and left, he stepped on her heart.

  Part 2

  Frailty, thy name is woman!

  —Shakespeare

  11

  “Coo, ain’t she a looker?” Tom breathed.

  Lucy leaned back and peered up at the ship they were to sail on, a ship that looked like any other ship with its raised back end, thick rails, tall masts, and furled sails. She nodded as nerves, excitement, and determination made her shake like Lady Atherton’s hands.

  “Lucinda,” her aunt called from behind her. “I want you to go to our cabin immediately. These Dover winds will chill you to the bone should you hang about.”

  Lucy nodded, watching mutely as her aunt directed the servants in the unloading of their trunks. A movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. Garrick. He stood near the rail of the ship talking to one of the crew.

  A burning lump of dejection lurched in her stomach as she watched him. There was a sparkle in his eyes, a sparkle that fizzled and died when he caught sight of her. She tilted her chin, determined not to let him see how the memory of his cool and uncaring gaze burned in her mind.

  “I’m goin’ on board,” Tom called.

  Cool air whipped past her face as she nodded. The smell of brine and the rattle of the rigging lifted her spirits despite Garrick’s coldness. She would have him alone for weeks. A captive audience. Surely he couldn’t hate her forever.

  “Land ho. Shiver me timbers! No prey, no pay. Move your arses, ya bloody curs. Raise the flag. Give ‘im ‘ell, mates.”

  Lucy turned, her brow furrowed. One of her aunt’s servants came forward, the expression on his face pained as he held a cage out in front of him as if a rotten smell emanated from it.

  “Good heavens, is that Prinny?”

  The servant nodded, wiping at a wisp of his chestnut-colored hair which blew into his eyes. “Lord knows it ain’t me. ‘E’s been like this since we pulled up behind ya. Saw the ship an’ started singin’ like a canary.”

  “Stow it,” the parrot called, bouncing from his swing, to the side of the cage, to the floor. He flapped his wings at the breeze and broke into a song. “A sailin’ we will go. A sailin’ we will go. Heigh-ho, shiver me toes, a sailin’ we will go.”

  Lucy felt laughter bubble up inside of her for the first time in days. “He must remember ships. His former master was a ship’s captain, you know.” She took Prinny’s cage from the servant.

  “Sounds as if he was a pirate,” Garrick said from behind her.

  Looking toward him, the smile still lingering on her face, she saw to her utter shock that he smiled back. Alittle bit of a smile, but a smile nonetheless. She clutched her cloak around her tighter, feeling almost giddy with delight. “I think you may be right.”

  “Lucinda!”

  She shot a glance at her aunt, missing Garrick’s pensive stare. The movement caused her cloak to whip about her violently, the green of her dress showing through underneath; the feather in her hat bobbed in the wind.

  “The last thing I need is for you to take a chill,” her aunt said, pointing at the ship.

  Lucy pulled her cloak closed with her free hand. “I’m going, Aunt. I’m going.” She darted another glance at Garrick, but he’d turned and walked away.

  If possible, her spirits sank even lower than before.

  “’Ave a safe trip, me loidy.”

  She smiled and nodded. “I shall try, Ben. Thank you.”

  Turning, she headed toward the gangplank, anxious to get out of the breeze. The ramp was pitching and swaying violently, and the ropes holding the ship to the dock creaked with strain. She eyed the vessel askance, then slowly made her way up the narrow plank.

  “Trim the sails. Drop the anchor,” Prinny called as he was knocked from his perch. His wings flapped angrily, his red tail shook, talons screeching on the metal floor as he tried to gain a toehold.

  “I know, Prinny. I know.” She breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the deck, then gasped when she was nearly run down by a ship’s mate. Stepping back to the rail, she glanced at the coach. As usual, her eyesalighted on Garrick’s tall form as he directed the servants to unload their trunks. She set Prinny’s cage down with a thunk, then leaned against the railing, resting her chin in her elbow. She would be content to admire his rugged form for the rest of the afternoon. When she scooted closer to the railing, her toe crashed into Prinny’s cage.

  “Watch yer arse, bloody clodfoot,” Prinny called, flapping his wings some more.

  “Quiet, Prinny. I’m busy.” Her eyes grew soft as she watched Garrick’s every move. Wouldn’t it be lovely if they could spend some time alone together on this ship? The familiar sting of humiliation filled her throat. She might as well wish for the moon. Garrick barely tolerated her. There was no sense in praying he might fall in love with her. No sense at all.

  But she did.

  Every day.

  She sighed, her eyes catching on a carriage that pulled up alongside theirs. More passengers, she thought, then straightened in amazement.

  “Beth?” she called to the blue velvet and ermine-cloaked figure who emerged.

  Beth glanced around, then turned toward the ship. When she spied Lucy at the railing, she waved, said a few hurried words to the driver, and headed up the plank.

  “Beth, ‘tis you,” Lucy exclaimed a moment later, opening her arms wide and pulling her friend into a fierce hug, both of them laughing, their bonnets colliding midair. When she leaned back, she couldn’t concealher amazement. “Goodness, whatever are you doing here?”

  “I’ve come to say goodbye,” Beth answered, grinning widely. “I know it sounds silly, but I couldn’t go away without wishing you goodbye … and good luck, but then, of course you would understand. I dare say you get such urges all the time.”

  Lucy gave her another hug. “Well, I’m glad you did.”

  Beth glanced at Garrick, who was in the process of climbing up the ramp. “I haven’t heard from you in two days, Lucy. What happened after the Tavern Incident?”

  Lucy winced. Beth had a habit of labeling her catastrophes. The Chamber Pot Incident. The Barn Incident. The Byron Incident. It was no wonder a man such as Garrick couldn’t love her.

  “Lucy?” Beth asked softly.

  She took a deep breath. “He
was kind enough to keep what happened from my aunt, but he’s quite upset with me.” That was an understatement. She grimaced, staring at a knot in the rail. He was very upset with her. “There is good news, however. He actually smiled today.”

  Beth tilted her head. Lucy looked up in time to see an understanding expression in her blue eyes. “So he hasn’t forgiven you?”

  Lucy shook her head, clenching her jaw in order not to cry.

  “You love him, don’t you?”

  She nodded miserably. Her hand squeezed the rail. Hard.

  Beth was silent.

  A white gull floated on the sea. Lucy watched it dance with the waves for a long moment before saying, “Does that surprise you?”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Beth shake her head. “No, Luce. I always knew it would be like this for you. Boom—you’d fall in love.”

  Lucy nodded, swiping a renegade tear. “I know. Isn’t it wonderful?”

  Beth shook her head. “If you say so. Though I must say, I always thought you’d fall in love with a stable hand or … or a chimney sweep, or the lamplighter.”

  Lucy swallowed. She refused to cry. Garrick might see her if she did.

  “I never thought it’d be a man such as Garrick,” Beth continued. “Someone who actually makes sense.”

  Lucy nodded, having to take deep breath to stop herself from crying. It was the kindest thing Beth had ever said to her. “Thank you,” she affirmed, “for approving of my choice.”

  Silence again. Lucy became aware of the sounds around her. The gentle slosh of waves against the pier. The patter of sailors’ feet as they went about their business. The soft clink-clink of the rigging as it waved in the wind.

  Beth kept her silence, and her distance. She seemed to realize that if she touched her, Lucy would shatter.

  “I love you, Luce, and I wish you luck,” her friend said after a long silence. “You deserve him. I only hope he has the sense to realize that.”

  Lucy’s lips quivered. A tear leaked past her lids to becaught instantly by a cold breeze. It dribbled off the side of her face.

  “Shaaaaark!”

  Lucy stiffened.

  “Shaaaark!” Prinny howled. “Shaaaaaark. Shark, shark, shark, shark, shark, shark …”

  Lucy glanced at Prinny’s cage, just in time to see a black cat pounce upon it.

  “Oh my goodness,” she cried.

  The cage tipped over. The door swung open. The whole thing rolled against the rail and came to a stop. Prinny began to squawk furiously. The sound of the cat’s cries interlaced with Prinny’s terrified shrieks. Lucy intercepted the feline just as it was about to capture Prinny in its mouth. She pulled on the animal’s tail, gasping in pain when the beast turned around and swiped at her with long claws.

  “Ouch,” she yelled, losing her grip in a flash. The cat turned back to Prinny. Lucy tugged on its tail again. It turned back and bit her this time. “Ouch!”

  “Oh, Lucy. Get it,” Beth cried.

  “I’m trying,” Lucy cried. She searched for a weapon, her heart fluttering as loudly as Prinny’s wings. A row of fishing poles were secured to the rail. Visions of beating the cat with one of them rose in her mind, only to be instantly discarded. She stiffened when she spied a sharp-looking object right next to the poles. “Hand me that,” she cried to a nearby sailor.

  He followed her gaze and nodded, handing her a wooden staff with a hooked knife attached to the end. Lord knew what it was, but it would do well to kill a cat.

  She turned, murder in her eyes.

  The cat didn’t stand a chance. It howled as she poked its backside, then started back out of the cage. Sparkling green feline eyes glared at her before attempting to do battle with the spear. A mistake. The blade turned out to be razor sharp.

  “Eeeeyow,” it screamed, shaking its paw in pain. Prinny squawked in his cage. Lucy could have sworn that cat shot her a look of promised retribution before it turned back to the cage, scooped Prinny up in its mouth, then shot toward the mainmast. It climbed the rope ladder that stretched the length of the mast.

  “Oh no,” Lucy wailed, giving chase.

  With a flick of its long, black tail, the feline jumped halfway up the thick timber, Prinny squawking, “Man overboard, man overboard,” the whole way.

  Lucy followed after it. Bloody cat. She would kill it, kill it, kill it!

  And as she chased after that cat, it became all the bad things that had happened in her life: the loss of her mother and father. Her brother joining the military. Garrick’s refusal to love her. She swiped, swiped, swiped, following the cat up the rope ladder, her blade cutting into the lines like coral through a sponge.

  “’Ey,” a man called out and if Lucy had listened closely, she would have heard the panic in his voice. “Don’t be doin’ that!” Hell-bent on freeing Prinny, she didn’t hear the warning in his voice.

  She swiped again. The blade lodged into the hemp. She jerked it out and swung again, frustrated when the cat jumped to yet another rope. Grimly determined, shehacked at the next one. Victory swam through her when it broke in two.

  Pandemonium erupted. Someone grabbed her arm, and Lucy turned to stare down into Garrick’s furious eyes.

  Twang!

  Every person on deck looked up.

  Twang! Twang! Twang!

  People started to shout. Garrick pulled Lucy down just as another of the ropes she’d hacked at broke in two, and another, then another. They, in turn, caused other ropes to break. The frayed ends swung above their heads like the ribbons on a maypole.

  Twang!

  Rope whipped over their heads; the bottom half fell to the deck. Lucy sat up abruptly, pushing back her bonnet to see if Prinny was free. Her eyes widened at what she saw instead.

  The mainsail was unfurling.

  So was the main royal, the top gallant, and the main topsail.

  The cat looked like a bell toller who’d forgotten to let go of his rope. Higher and higher it was lifted until suddenly, it let go of Prinny, then sprang toward one of the rope ladders paralleling the mast. It scurried down, jumped onto the deck, then ran down the gangplank as Prinny flew madly toward an open doorway.

  Slowly, ominously, resolutely the sails continued to unfurl; immediately, the mainsail filled with a great gust of air. The ropes holding the ship dockside creaked, then groaned like rusty gates.

  “Man your posts!” Garrick bellowed. The men jumped into action.

  It was only then that Lucy realized what she’d done. Slowly, she pushed herself to her feet, thoroughly horrified as the sails began to fill with air. It was only a matter of seconds before all four were straining in the wind, as if the breath of God somehow blew into them. She turned. Beth had her hands to her face. On the dock, Aunt Cornelia stood by the carriage, mouth agape. Something creaked, the sound more like a loud moan, punctuated by a loud snap. Lucy looked down in time to see one of the lines tethering the ship disappear into the sea.

  She glanced at Garrick. And blanched.

  “Luuuucy,” he growled.

  I know, I know,she thought.I’ve done it again.

  The stern swung around. He looked away. “Cut the other line before the mast breaks,” he yelled.

  A sailor raced forward to do as he was told, the plank which stretched down to the dock falling into the sea with a loud, water-displacing splash.

  “Dear God,” Beth croaked from alongside of her.

  “I know,” Lucy groaned.

  “Get below,” Garrick ordered.

  Lucy swallowed and nodded, but as she turned away, a thought suddenly gurgled to the surface of her mind.

  No aunt, no chaperone.

  She smiled, a great grin of a smile that must have looked odd considering the trouble she’d just caused. But she didn’t care. She’d have Garrick to herself, at least for a few hours.

  There was a God.

  • • •

  “What am I going to do?” Beth cried four hours later. Her blue-black hair sw
ished from side to side as she paced in front of Lucy. “My father doesn’t even know I’m gone.”

  “Does now,” Tom announced.

  Beth glared at the boy.

  Lucy stared at them both from her position atop one of the cabin’s two beds. “It’s all right, Beth,” she said brightly. “I’ll speak to the captain about turning around just as soon as I see him.”

  “Can’t do it, me loidy,” Tom answered cheerfully, swinging his legs back and forth and rocking the hammock he was perched upon from side to side. The boy had his own cabin in the bow of the ship, but he’d been keeping them company for the last half-hour. “A man told me we couldn’ turn back, what with the wind an’ the tide’s bein’ against us. Strangest weather ‘e’d ever seen, he said.”

  “But they have to. Dear God, we could be ruined,” Beth announced.

  “Ruined?” Lucy echoed in disbelief.

  “Yes, ruined, Lucy. We have no chaperone, no maid, not a single proper garment for attire—”

  “But—”

  “We’re unmarried ladies on board a ship full of men,” Beth continued frantically. “Once word reaches town, we’re doomed.” She turned back to Tom. “Are you sure they are unable to turn the ship around?”

  “Positive, me loidy. The gent told me the wind is carryin’ us out ta sea as surely as the tide lowers the Thames. Said every time they trim the sails, the wind changes directions on ‘em. They’ve given up tryin’ ta fight it.” And the child fairly smacked his lips in delight.

  “Oh, how awful,” Lucy said in mock dismay. She almost squirmed in delight. She’d have Garrick to herself for a while longer. She bit back a smile, staring at Beth’s hands as they alternately crushed, then released her yellow silk dress.

  A wave pitched the ship violently, causing Tom to giggle. Beth dove for a small table anchored to the wall, clutching it in terror, blue eyes round with fear.

  “Beth”—Lucy made her voice as encouraging as possible—“my aunt will tell no one what happened. I’m sure she’ll see to it our reputations won’t suffer. And sailing to Spain with us won’t be so bad. You could use the color in your cheeks.”